Author Note: I changed the rating to PG-13 for this chapter, for violence.
The Second Day - Part 4
Crouched behind a hedge, Harry looked at the hulking dark house half hidden by a light mist. The sun had set an hour earlier, but not a single candle burned in the leaded glass windows. Harry shook his head. Here he was, at the last place he ever expected to see again. And all he could do was wait--wait for Draco to return.
It was supposed to be easy. Go to Shell Cottage, open Dobby's grave, find the knife, and return to Hogwarts. Slughorn insisted that none of them was in a fit condition to apparate, so they had to use the Floo network. They brought their broomsticks with them-just in case-shrunk to fit in the corner of their packs. Slughorn gave Harry a rectangular leaden box-"Wrap the knife up well and put it in the box, Harry. Don't touch any part of it with your hands."
What a strange trio, Harry thought, as he took the box of Floo powder down from the mantle of Slughorn's fireplace. Viktor was wearing the same clothes as before, though some of the mud had caked and dried. He had tied his hair back, but the haunted look had not left him. Draco was dressed all in black; he had taken the precaution of covering his silvery blonde hair with a stocking cap. Harry had found some old Quidditch practice clothes in the wardrobe, loose fitting and dark red.
"I'll go first," Harry said. "If anyone is still at the Cottage they might hex you. Give me two minutes, then follow." Viktor and Draco nodded their agreement.
Harry threw a handful of powder into the flames, which quickly turned a familiar emerald green. "Shell Cottage," he said clearly and distinctly, and immediately he felt a sharp tug at his navel. He tumbled through dozens and dozens of hearths, from grand mansions and Ministry offices to humble cottages and village shops. He was stunned at the ruin and devastation. He and Ron and Hermione had had no idea of the destruction that Voldemort's rule of terror had brought to their world. Images of ransacked shops, broken furniture, windows shattered and boarded up and broken again, helpless pets-cats, dogs, owls-headless, sliced and gutted-flashed before Harry's eyes like a newsreel of some hideous Muggle war. Surely Shell Cottage had been spared, Harry thought anxiously.
But the sight that met Harry's eyes when he finally came to a stop was more shocking that anything he could have imagined. The pretty room he had seen only days before had been ransacked. The upholstery on the chairs had been slashed, the china lamps hurled to the floor and broken into hundreds of tiny pieces. The drawers of Bill's desk had all been pulled out and emptied. But this was not the worst. In the farthest corner from the fire, sitting sideways slumped against the wall and staring vacantly ahead, was Bill.
Harry crossed the room quickly and knelt in front of him. "All you all right, Bill? What happened here? Tell me," Harry said urgently. Bill didn't reply. His eyes remained unfocused-he didn't seem to realize that Harry was there. He appeared uninjured-his face bore the familiar terrible scars but Harry couldn't see any fresh wounds.
"He's probably been Crucioed," Draco said, as he stepped out of the fireplace. "I've seen that look dozens-hundreds-of times this past year."
"But who? Who could have done this? And why?"
"Who? Not all the Death Eaters were at Hogwarts at the end. And even some of those that were probably escaped. And why? I think we have to assume they were after the knife. If it was Morfin's knife…."
Harry heard a gasp behind them as Viktor stepped into the room.
"What has happened? Is that Bill? Where are the others?" he asked.
Harry stood up and turned. "We don't know. But I think I may be able to reach Bill. He can't have been in this state for long. I want you to check the other rooms-see if anyone else is here. Get your wands out, just in case. I'm going to talk to Bill."
Draco and Viktor followed Harry's instructions without hesitation. As they moved through the hall into the kitchen, Harry crouched in front of Bill. He grabbed him by the shoulders and moved him so he was sitting straight. Then he lifted Bill's chin so he was looking directly at Harry's eyes.
"Bill," Harry said quietly. "It's me, Harry. I need you to tell me what happened here. If you can hear me, just nod--or blink your eyes."
Bill remained motionless, his eyes in a glassy stare. Harry grasped both of Bill's wrists, encircling them with his fingers, squeezing hard. "Bill," he said again. "Listen to me. You are safe now. I'm here. It's me, Harry."
Harry waited a moment, but there was no response.
On a sudden impulse Harry lifted his hands and gently shut Bill's eyes, resting his fingers for a moment on the closed eyelids. An almost imperceptible shudder passed through Bill's body and as Harry drew back, Bill opened his eyes.
"Harry, what…" Bill's voice was hoarse, raspy.
"Never mind that now," Harry said. "What happened to you? Here, let me get you closer to the fire. Viktor," he shouted into the kitchen, "Bill needs a glass of water."
"Harry, what are you doing here?" Bill asked again.
"I have to get the knife I buried with Dobby," Harry explained. "Here, drink this," Harry said, taking the glass from Viktor. "We need to find you somewhere to sit down." He looked quickly over the wrecked pieces of furniture scattered around the room.
"There's a chair upstairs that's still in one piece," said Draco, reentering the room.
"Draco is helping me," Harry said hastily, as a look of loathing darkened Bill's face. "The knife that killed Dobby belonged to his aunt, Bellatrix. Can you stand?"
"I don't know. I'll try." Viktor came forward and in one smooth motion crouched down, slung Bill's arm across his shoulders, and raised him to his feet. Bill walked unsteadily, as Viktor half pushed half carried him up through the hall and up the narrow staircase.
Bill and Fleur's bedroom had been ransacked and the pretty blue counterpane had been slashed into ribbons. Only the simple wooden armchair that Harry remembered having seen at the Burrow was undamaged.
Bill sat down carefully and looked up at his unexpected visitors. He answering their unspoken question: "I was Crucio'd. Greyback and Yaxley somehow escaped from the battle at Hogwarts and came here."
"But how did they find Shell Cottage? You put a Fidelius Charm on it, you told me," Harry said.
"Yes, but I lifted it when I came back yesterday. I thought we had nothing more to fear. Foolish, I know. I can't tell you how grateful I am that Fleur went directly to the Burrow with my parents. She and my mother are very close now, Harry. You'd be surprised."
"Why did you come back then?" Viktor asked.
Bill glanced quickly at Draco before answering. "It was a full moon last night, Harry. The potion works well but it's not perfect, especially when….I didn't want to risk something happening to me. I was walking on the beach below the cottage, just watching the waves pound the rocks, thinking about everything that had happened, thinking about Fred--when they appeared out of nowhere. I have no idea how they knew to come here."
"I think I do," Draco said, drumming his fingers nervously against the doorframe. "After Dobby paid Harry a visit in Second Year, my father put a Trace on all his House Elves, so he could keep track of them. When Dobby was freed, the Trace was extinguished--but when he returned to Malfoy Manor on his rescue mission, the Trace was reactivated. So when he Apparated here with Harry and the others, my father was able to trace him to this vicinity, even though the cottage was invisible."
"But instead of trying to break the Fidelius Charm and capture me here, Voldemort went on to Hogwarts." Harry said.
"Exactly," said Draco. "No one bothered to follow the Trace. But everyone at Malfoy Manor saw Bellatrix attack Dobby. They all knew the power of the knife. I'm not surprised Greyback and Yaxley came after it. They may have thought no one would be here-that you would all be at the Burrow for the funeral."
"You don't have to say it," Bill said bitterly. "I should never have lifted the Charm. I should never have left the Cottage and gone to the beach, where I could be so easily seen."
"You have paid heavily for your mistake," Viktor said quietly, resting his hand on Bill's shoulder. "They tortured you to tell them where the knife was, yes?"
"I told them nothing. I don't know where the knife was. I never saw it." Bill glanced at Harry, who was standing at the window looking at the garden below.
"I wrapped it in a red rag and buried it alongside Dobby," Harry said. "I didn't want anyone to be able to use it again--ever."
"Harry, Bill needs a Healer," Viktor said. "He's not fit to travel. Bill-the Healer in the village who took care of me last winter-can I send for her?"
"Yes, all right," Bill said quietly. "You can send a message with your Patronus. She's still in the same cottage as before."
Viktor walked to the open window and drew his wand. "Expecto Patronum," he said. Harry tensed as a thin shimmer of mist expanded and began to take a definite shape. Four legs started to extend from the body-could it be a horse, a lion….a unicorn? But the limbs were too short and quickly flared into webbed paws. Harry sighed in relief as the creature rolled over once and gamboled across the garden, past the trees that stood watch over Dobby's grave.
"That's-isn't that?--you have an otter Patronus," Harry said in amazement. "Like Hermione."
"Yes, I know. She told me." Viktor smiled and motioned for Harry to lead them down the stairs.
"Wait here. We'll be right back," Harry said to Bill, who sat motionless in the chair.
"That's fine. I don't think I could move even if I wanted to."
Harry had braced himself for what he knew he would see, but the sight of the desecrated grave, and Dobby's body, his head twisted at an extreme angle, his neck obviously broken-shocked him to the marrow.
Viktor and Draco hung back, letting Harry go forward to the grave alone. Harry found his old jacket thrown against the roots of a tree and he wrapped Dobby up tightly and laid him on the grass. Then he clambered down into the shallow grave and searched for the red rag. He found it quickly and his heart gave a leap-perhaps Greyback and Yaxley hadn't found the knife. But when he lifted the rag it unraveled in his hands, empty of its malignant contents.
"The knife isn't here. They must have taken it," Harry said, as Viktor and Draco came forward. "I'm going to bury Dobby again, properly. You can help me if you like. Bill keeps shovels in the shed over there."
Draco paused for a moment, but he said nothing and went to help Viktor. The three former Seekers-rivals no longer-worked quickly to close the grave, pitching small clumps of red earth over Dobby's body until the mound was restored. Harry replaced the headstone and stood for a moment thinking what he could say.
"Thank you, Dobby, for everything. Everyone must know now what House Elves are worth-that they must be free. Hermione and I will make sure of that. I promise."
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