The Elder Wand
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all the characters in it belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is a work of imagination and is directed solely at readers of this website. No infringement of any rights is intended and no criticism of J.K. Rowling or her work should be considered to be stated or implied.
Author's note: thanks to all of you who have posted reviews and for those who are just reading along, let me know what you think. All comments are useful.
Part 6. Xenophilius Lovegood
The next morning, Harry and Hermione made their way, more in hope than expectation, down to the Great Hall. They were delighted to find that the Hogwart's kitchen elves were obviously not to be deterred by any amount of fighting and disruption and that the tables in the Great Hall were filled, as usual, with all of the paraphernalia associated with a good, hearty breakfast. There were only a few other students dotted around, generally sitting in small, huddled groups, looking tired and apprehensive. The teacher's table, at the top of the hall, was deserted at present, much to Harry and Hermione's relief. They were keen to get to the Burrow as quickly as possible and didn't wish to be delayed by bumping into Professor McGonagall or Hagrid, or perhaps even Professor Slughorn, who might want to pry into their plans. They therefore just grabbed their normal breakfast fare - two sausages, three rashers of bacon and a fried egg sandwiched between two thick slices of crusty white bread for Harry; a low-fat yoghurt, a pain au chocolat and some fruit for Hermione - and headed back up to the Gryffindor common room to consume the food. Once they had finished, Hermione threw a few essential items - mostly books - into her travelling bag and they took a leisurely stroll into Hogsmeade. There, holding hands in front of the Three Broomsticks, they disapparated to the Burrow.
They appeared in the front garden of the Burrow just as Ron was closing the front door behind him. A surprised look momentarily transformed Ron's expression before he quickly replaced it with a scowl directed in their general direction.
"I didn't expect you to arrive so early. I'm just on my way out."
This information was conveyed grudgingly and Harry formed the distinct impression that Ron had been intending to be away from the Burrow long before they arrived.
"Well, it's lucky that we caught you then," Harry said in a falsely cheerful voice. Hermione surveyed the upstairs windows, deliberately keeping her gaze away from Ron.
"Mum, Percy and George have already gone out to see about arranging Fred's funeral, Dad's at work and Ginny isn't feeling well - she's upstairs in bed," Ron volunteered, appearing to try to end the conversation so that he could continue on his way.
"Oh… and where are you going?" Harry asked, unwilling to let Ron off of the hook so easily.
Ron looked down at the ground and remained silent for a few moments before reluctantly mumbling, "I told Luna that I might look in to see how Xenophilius is doing. I bumped into her just before we left Hogwarts."
Harry knew that he should really check on Ginny but this seemed like too good an opportunity to miss.
"Hermione and I were only talking about Xenophilius last night. We never did find out what happened to him. Do you mind if we join you?"
"If you like," Ron's frown deepened and he finally looked directly at Hermione. "Are you sure that you want to come along?"
"Yes Ron," Hermione replied despairingly, "let's not fall out at a time like this, please."
Harry looked quizzically at Ron, raising his eyebrows. "How about it, mate?" he asked.
Ron made a point of shaking his head in apparent frustration before conceding with a shrug, "I suppose so, but I still think that you're both wrong about the Elder Wand."
Ron disapparated without another word, leaving Harry and Hermione staring at the blank space where he had just been. They could only hope that he was going to the hill overlooking the Lovegood's property that they had stood on just a short time before. Harry shrugged his shoulders, glancing at Hermione with a resigned expression on his face. Hermione looked upset by Ron's reaction but gave Harry a weak smile. She reached out and clasped his hand and they disapparated together.
When they arrived, Ron was already striding down the hill and, after taking a quick look around to assess the situation, the pair headed off after him. The Lovegood's house sat at the bottom of a deep valley surrounded by hills. A small stream ran along the bottom of the valley floor, skirting behind the house at a slightly lower level and partially hidden from view by clumps of trees that were dotted along its bank. The house that they had previously visited had been a tall black cylinder, with a ghostly moon hanging behind it, which Ron had described as looking like a chess rook. Now, they could see that only the ground floor of the building was still intact, as a result of the explosion caused when Xenophilius' own stunning spell had hit the Erumpent Horn that had been mounted on an upstairs wall. The spiral staircase could still be seen protruding upwards, amidst the remnants of the ruined upper walls, surrounded by a haphazard framework of metal scaffolding that had apparently been hastily assembled to support the crumbling structure. A plume of grey smoke was rising into the air somewhere to the back of the ruin.
It had rained heavily in the area the previous day and the ground underfoot became progressively boggier as they descended the hill, until their shoes were sinking well into the mud, with a disconcerting squelch, at each step. The broken down wooden gate that marked the entrance to the property was still standing and its rusting hinges squealed loudly as they opened it and walked up the overgrown zigzagging path that lead to the iron studded, heavy, black front door. The two ancient bent crab-apple trees still framed the doorway, although their tips had been singed by the explosion and fresh shoots were just starting to appear at their crowns. Ron reached the door first, with Harry close behind, and rapped heavily on it three times with the eagle shaped knocker. Hermione, picking her way carefully over the jagged edges of the stones that formed the path, joined them just as the last echoes of the sound were fading away somewhere inside. They waited expectantly for a few minutes before Ron knocked again, harder this time, and they were finally rewarded with a muffled angry response from inside.
"All right, I heard you! Show a bit of patience, can't you?"
They recognised the voice as that of Xenophilius Lovegood, but it was accompanied by a strange squeaking sound that grew louder as something approached the entrance from the other side. The door slowly creaked open a fraction and the three of them found that they were staring at empty space where they expected Xenophilius' face to be.
"Oh! Wh…what do y…you want?" stammered Xenophilius' voice, its pitch noticeably higher and sounding slightly frightened. "I'm sorry for what happened. They had Luna. I couldn't do anything else."
The three of them directed their gaze downward towards the sound and found themselves looking at the familiar fluffy, long white hair and slightly cross-eyed glare of Xenophilius Lovegood. As he pulled the door further open, they could see that he was sitting uncomfortably in a wheelchair, one arm and one leg, swathed in stained, cream-coloured bandages, sticking out at odd angles. The arm, bent at the elbow, was held at the level of his shoulder on a raised arm rest, while the leg was supported in a metal brace and was positioned horizontally straight in front of him. His chair was turned so that his good arm and leg faced the door, causing him to swivel awkwardly at the waist in order to look at his visitors.
"It's OK Mr. Lovegood," Harry quickly reassured the older man. "We haven't come seeking revenge. We understand why you did it."
Ron's scowl, however, wasn't so reassuring.
"Where's Luna?" he asked gruffly.
"Eh, she's down at the stream, fishing for Freshwater Plimpies," Xenophilius answered hesitantly, only too well aware of the irony of the situation. "It's a favourite pastime of hers, honestly," he added hurriedly.
"Well, if you don't mind, I think that I'll just check this time," Ron pointedly remarked and he turned and stumped off towards the rear of the house.
"Could we come in to wait, Mr. Lovegood?" Hermione asked sweetly.
With evident reluctance, Xenophilius manoeuvred his wheelchair away from the front door so that Harry and Hermione could enter the peculiar circular kitchen, which had not changed much since their previous visit. If anything, it was a little more untidy and a few battered armchairs had been dragged in and scattered around - presumably as a result of the destruction of the upstairs combination living room and workplace - making the room extremely cramped. Harry closed the door behind them and Xenophilius gestured towards the armchairs, silently suggesting that they be seated. The three sat awkwardly without speaking for a long time until Harry couldn't stand it any longer.
"It doesn't look as if you came out of things too well," he offered, gesturing towards Xenophilius' injuries.
"This? It's just an inconvenience that will soon heal. Things could have been much worse," Xenophilius answered with a shrug. "I suppose that I should thank you for saving my Luna," he added, after a prolonged pause, conveying little of the warmth that would be expected from such a declaration.
"Oh, think nothing of it," Harry replied, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "After all, your information on the Deathly Hallows was a great help to us. They turned out to be very important in the battle against Voldemort."
"Is that so? Did you by any chance find any of the Hallows?" Xenophilius asked with a hungry, ingratiating smile.
"Well, let's just say that we have a very good idea where they are," Harry replied evasively. "In fact, we're trying to find out how they were made; what sort of magic was used."
"Made? Made, did you say? Didn't you listen to my tale? They were given to the three brothers as a forfeit by 'Death'," Xenophilius shouted incredulously.
"Now, that doesn't seem very likely, does it?" Hermione interjected. "I mean, surely you don't think that 'Death' is a person or an entity of some type?"
"I remember that Luna warned me about you, young lady," Xenophilius responded patronisingly. "You don't believe in anything that you haven't experienced for yourself. No imagination."
"We were told that the Peverell brothers were very talented wizards and made the Hallows," Hermione continued, ignoring the criticism.
"Humph!" Xenophilius dismissed the notion with a frustrated wave of his hand. "Do you really think that three brothers, even if they had the talent, all decided to make three entirely separate and very different magical objects at the same time and that these objects lead indirectly to the premature death of two of them? How likely is that? No, the Hallows had a single creator and that creator was 'Death'. That is why they are so mysterious and deadly. History teaches us that they have brought nothing but bad luck to their owners."
Xenophilius had a covetous glint in his eye as he talked in such negative terms about the Deathly Hallows and it was clear that he was also under their spell and would love to possess them.
"Now, tell me more about how they were involved with Voldemort," he asked breathlessly.
"Oh, I think that I can hear Luna coming," Hermione said suddenly, jumping up. "Let's go and meet her Harry."
She bundled a startled Harry out through the door, throwing a hurried, "Goodbye and thank you Mr. Lovegood", behind her as she went.
"I didn't hear anything," Harry said in puzzlement as he stumbled into the garden, while Hermione closed the front door behind her.
"Well, I thought that we should get out of there. Didn't you see the look in his eyes? I wouldn't want him to have any idea that you possess some of the Hallows. Who knows who he might tell?" Hermione said sounding agitated.
"I told you that it was a waste of time," she added crossly. "I knew that we wouldn't get anything useful out of him. I should never have left Hogwarts. We need to get back right away and do some proper research."
"We can't. We have to go back to the Burrow. We don't know when Fred's funeral will be and I need to see Ginny," Harry responded. "Anyway, Xenophilius might have a point. It is strange that the Hallows had three entirely separate makers, don't you think?"
"Oh Harry, he's just rambling as usual. 'Death' isn't someone who comes to get you. It's just something that happens for a perfectly logical reason. Look, you can do what you like." Hermione sounded exasperated. "Fred's funeral won't be for days and I can't stand to stay here for that long. You've seen what Ron is like and I'm sure that Ginny won't be overwhelmed to see me. I'm going back. Send me an owl when you have a date for Fred's funeral."
Harry started to protest but with a final deep sigh, Hermione disapparated and Harry was left with his mouth still open staring at the Lovegood's front door. It was now his turn to sigh in frustration and he was tempted to follow Hermione but at that moment Ron and Luna came around the corner of the house, deep in conversation. Luna was carrying a large glass jar filled with water and containing a number of fluorescent green, oval-shaped objects, which moved slowly in circles. Harry assumed that these must be the notorious Freshwater Plimpies. Harry and Luna exchanged a few pleasantries before Harry announced that he should be getting back to the Burrow. He asked Ron to come with him and, after some hesitation, Ron reluctantly agreed.
"You to seem to be getting along well," Harry commented as the pair trudged back up the hill. "I didn't think that you liked her."
"Oh, she's all right. Mad…but nice; and you know where you stand with her, unlike some people that I could mention," Ron replied with a sneer.
Harry picked up on his inference.
"So, what's going on between you and Hermione? Why the glum face when she's around?"
"Hmm…that's all over now," Ron answered ruefully. "I've given it my best shot but I'm not wasting any more time on her. We just don't agree about anything."
Ron was silent for a moment and the only sound was that of their laboured breathing and the squelching of their footsteps as they battled upwards.
"You know that stuff about opposites attract?" he eventually continued. "Well, it's all nonsense, isn't it? They might attract for a while, but they'll never stick together, will they?"
Harry didn't answer but he was aware of an increase in his heart rate that had nothing to do with the physical exertion of the climb and his face had become warm and flushed as he realised that Ron might not be an obstacle to the development of his relationship with Hermione any longer.
When the pair of them finally made it back to the Burrow, they found that Molly, Percy and George had already returned. Wizarding funerals are normally arranged quickly because they generally take place at a person's home or a place that had special meaning for them. Fred's funeral was therefore to take place at the Burrow but Molly was determined that it would be a grand affair and, given the large numbers of their acquaintances, including Remus and Tonks, who had died in the battle at Hogwarts, scheduling had proved difficult. It had been agreed that Fred's funeral would not take place until the middle of the following week, with the funerals of Remus and Tonks also being held at the Burrow on the day afterwards. Harry was undecided about what he should do and so he nervously made his way up the creaking stairs to Ginny's bedroom to find out how things still stood between them.
Ginny's bedroom presented a stark contrast to most of the rooms in the Burrow. It had a large window that looked out over the rear garden and it was bright and airy, decorated in pale floral patterns that were complemented by a matching floral aroma. Harry found Ginny propped up on her pillows, wearing a flimsy nightdress that displayed her breasts admirably and, in the past, would have provoked an immediate reaction in Harry. As he entered, Ginny quickly fussed with her hair, which was as beautiful and lustrous as ever, and pushed herself up further, leaning forward and displaying even more cleavage in the process.
"Harry…" she gasped in surprise.
"How are you feeling?" Harry asked, finding that he had more pressing matters on his mind than the display of feminine attributes that he had just witnessed.
"Oh, not too bad," Ginny replied rather sheepishly in a quiet voice. "I feel like a bit of a fraud now, actually."
"So, what happened?"
"Well, afterwards…after the battle…you know, while we were still at Hogwarts…I just felt really sleepy, but then, as soon as we got back here, I started to feel most peculiar. I had a splitting headache and I was dizzy and then, Mum says, I just passed out. When I woke up, they had put me to bed. Now, I just feel woozy and everything seems hazy. There are big chunks of time that I can't seem to remember. It sounds stupid doesn't it?"
Harry, who didn't think that it sounded in the least bit stupid, was intrigued and sat down on the edge of the bed, involuntarily taking hold of Ginny's hand, which was resting on top of the covers.
"Are they recent things that you can't remember or things in the past?"
Ginny frowned as she thought about Harry's question.
"Well, I can remember quite clearly up until we went to the Department of Mysteries at the end of my fourth year, then I start to have blank spaces and some of what I do remember seems vague and strange, as if it happened to someone else."
"What sort of things?"
"Well, I remember using a Bat Bogey Hex on someone, just because they annoyed me slightly, and I remember being very rude to Hermione, which isn't like me…and I can remember making potions in secret, although I can't remember what they were or why I was making them. I think that it had something to do with a cake…but that doesn't really make sense, does it?"
"Ginny, please try to remember. Did you ever think about giving me a potion?" Harry asked, attempting to keep the sense of anxiety that he was now feeling out of his voice.
"Oh no, I wouldn't…I'm sure I didn't…I'm positive," Ginny hurriedly stammered but Harry could see the look of doubt in her eyes.
"Have you ever felt like this before, Ginny?"
"It's funny that you should ask," Ginny replied quickly, glad to move away from the subject of potions. "It feels a bit like it did in my first year…you know…when I had that diary. But that's silly, because Voldemort is dead and all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, aren't they?"
Harry was deep in thought and didn't answer.
"You know, I wish that I had a Pensieve or some sort of portrait, like those of the Headmasters at Hogwarts, that I had carried around and that could fill in the blanks for me," Ginny continued wistfully.
As she spoke, an idea flashed into Harry's mind, just like the unexpected inspiration about Slughorn that he had experienced the day before.
"That's it!" he suddenly cried, causing Ginny to lurch back in surprise. "Look Ginny, I've got to go, there's something very important that I've got to do. You take good care of yourself, get plenty of rest and we'll talk again later. I'll be back for Fred's funeral."
Harry grabbed Ginny's face with both hands and leaned forward to kiss the startled girl full on the lips. Although Ginny quickly responded, the former magic was no longer present and Harry knew without a shadow of a doubt that what they had shared had been false and that, at least for him, none of the old desire remained.