First half of book:
https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003829962
Previous Chapters:
https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003833123
https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003838588
Tags:
@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972 @Interested.me
Chapter Twenty-One: The Deathly Hallows
Harry fell, panting, onto grass and scrambled up at once. They seemed to have landed in the corner of a field at dusk; Theodore was already running in a circle around them, waving his wand, while Tracey kneeled behind Allison whose femur was bent at an unnatural way.
‘Cave Inimicum…Protego Totalum…’ Theodore chanted.
‘Brackium Emendo!’ Tracey cried in distress, and despite Harry looking away in time he could still hear the horrible crack of Allison’s bone whipping back to normal. Allison screamed, but the fresh pain seemed to have brought her back to her senses. Tracey whispered soothing words as she reached into her purse and pulled out the bottle of Restorative Draught. ‘It’s okay, you’re going to be ok, drink some of this.’
‘…Salvio Hexia…Muffliato!’
‘That lying bloody traitor,’ Allison managed as she finished shallow a swig of the draught. ‘Also thank you Theodore for getting us out of there and thank you Trace for healing me up.’
‘You’re thanking me? Without you pushing me out of the way I probably would have ripped apart by Erumpent shrapnel,’ said Tracey with tears in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you, I’m glad you’re back with us.’
And then they hugged. Theodore just stared at them while Harry couldn’t believe it took all four of them nearly dying for the girls to finally make up.
‘Um,’ Theodore awkwardly, ‘I’d hate to break this apology up, but can we focus on what just happened?’
Right, sorry,’ said Allison as she and Tracey broke apart and she sat up.
‘So…Mr Lovegood’s house exploded…’ said Harry, as that was the only thing he could think at the moment.
‘Well, I did warn him about that horn, and maybe he got what he deserved,’ huffed Tracey, but then her expression softened. ‘What do you think will happen to him?’
‘It’s hard to say,’ said Theodore, ‘probably nothing good, but I don’t think they’ll kill him. At least I hope not.’
‘So why not just Apparate us out of there immediately, why erase his memory and collapse the floor?’ asked Allison as she rubbed her freshly healed leg.
‘Because I wanted to give him the best chance at fewest consequences as possible,’ answered Theodore. ‘The Death Eaters should have been able to see Harry before we Disapparated, so they’ll know he wasn’t lying.’
‘Alright, so we probably saved Mr Lovegood, but what about Luna?’ asked Harry.
‘Well, I don’t think the Death Eaters will keep their word about returning her, especially since they didn’t actually get to capture Harry,’ said Theodore, ‘but assuming they haven’t already killed her—‘
‘Theo don’t you dare even imply that,’ said Allison in a tone that almost sounded like she was about to spit acid. ‘Luna is alive, she has to be.’
‘—then she’s probably locked up in Azkaban,’ Theodore finished carefully.
‘Oh Luna, will she even be ok in there?’ said Tracey in a near sob.
‘She will,’ said Harry. He could not bear to contemplate the
alternative. ‘She’s tough, Luna, much tougher than you’d think. She’s probably teaching all the inmates about Wrackspurts and Nargles.’
‘Yeah-yeah, you’re probably right,’ said Allison, trying to sound relieved.
‘And poor Mr Lovegood, all that he’s been through and about to go through,’ said Tracey.
‘I’d feel more sorry for him if he hadn’t sold us out to Death Eaters,’ mumbled Allison.
They put up the tent and retreated inside it, where Tracey made them tea. After their narrow escape, the chilly, musty old place felt like home: safe, familiar, and friendly.
‘I’m so sorry everyone,’ groaned Theodore after a few minutes of silence. ‘We should have never went there. Harry was right, it was Godric’s Hollow all over again, a waste of time and we almost got killed again! All for what, “The Deathly Hallows”…they probably were made up by Xenophilius on the spot just to keep us from leaving…’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ said Harry. ‘It is much harder to make up a complete lie while under pressure, it’s easier to make up a lie based on truth.’
‘That’s true,’ said Allison. ‘Like last year when I was lying to Borgin to learn information about Malfoy, I could have made up a whole fake identity but I thought in the moment that still saying I was Albert Runcorn’s daughter would give me an advantage. It didn’t work then but it did when I was caught by Snatchers. So yeah, Mr Lovegood probably meant what he said.’
‘Just because someone means what they say doesn’t make it true however,’ said Theodore. ‘I have read many history books, including from the time period in question and I have never heard of the Deathly Hallows until today.’
‘I’d hate to sound like Mr Lovegood, but that technically isn’t proof they don’t exist,’ said Tracey, a little sheepishly. ‘The Chamber of Secrets was believed to be fiction, but in the end it turned out to be real.’
‘But there were bread crumbs that suggested the Chamber was real Tracey, but the Deathly Hallows appear to be nothing more than a children’s story,’ Theodore countered.
‘There are bread crumbs here to Theo,’ said Allison defensively. ‘I am not sure if they’re real either, but we already know Harry has a pretty unique Cloak of Invisibility, and then there’s the w—‘
‘The Tale of the Three Brothers is a children’s story about the age old question can man beat death,’ said Theodore firmly. ‘There is nothing more to it.’
‘I don’t know. We could do with an unbeatable wand,’ said Harry, turning the sycamore wand he so disliked over in his fingers.
‘I’m sorry Harry, but it doesn’t exist.’
‘You said yourself that there have been loads of wands—the Deathstick and whatever they were called—‘
‘I also said there owners were just egotistical braggers, and that wands don’t amplify power,’ said Theodore, he then crossed his arms. ‘Listen, even if the Cloak of Invisibility and Elder Wand are real, what about the Resurrection stone? There are no old stories about it throughout history, and that’s because no magic can bring back the dead.’
‘When my wand connected with You-Know-Who’s, it made my mum and dad appear...and Cedric...they even talked to me.’
‘Harry, you told us that Dumbledore explained to you that those were more like echos. The essence, thoughts, and feelings the deceased had leading up to the moment of their death, but it wasn’t truest them,’ said Theodore while trying his best to be sensitive. ‘Not like flesh and blood, they aren’t even there to the extent ghosts are. It’s just not the same as bringing them back to life.’
‘But she, the woman in the tale, didn’t really come back, did she? The story says that once people are dead, they belong with the dead. But the second brother still got to see her and talk to her, didn’t he? He even lived with her for a while…’
He saw concern and something less easily definable in Theodore’s expression. Then, as he glanced at Allison and Tracey, Harry realized that it was fear: He had scared him with his talk of living with dead people.
‘So that Peverell bloke who’s buried in Godric’s Hollow,’ he said hastily, trying to sound robustly sane, ‘you don’t know anything about him, then?’
‘Not Ignotus Peverell specifically, but growing up my father would tell me stories about our family lineage and other Pure-blood families we’re connected to, and he would also tell me about other Pure-blood families that died out as a way to try and make sure I’d eventually get married to a Pure-blood and have kids,’ explained Theodore. ‘The Peverell’s are one of the Pure-blood families he mentioned that died out a long time ago in the male line.’
‘In the male line?’ repeated Harry.
‘Right, sorry, it’s more stupid blood supremest ideology,’ explained Theodore. ‘You’re expected to try and pass down your Pure-blood status and your surname to your children, that’s why Pure-bloods are so obsessed with having sons. It’s just as crazy as their other ideals though, daughters can still pass down their Blood-status, even their name if they want to. Just because the Peverell surname isn’t used any more doesn’t mean there are no descendants of the family.’
And then it came to Harry in one shining piece, the memory that had stirred at the sound of the name ‘Peverell’: a filthy old man brandishing an ugly ring in the face of a Ministry official, and he cried aloud, ‘Marvolo Gaunt!’
‘Sorry,’ said his three friends together.
‘Marvolo Gaunt! You-Know-Who’s grandfather! In the Pensieve! With Dumbledore! Marvolo Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!’
All three still looked bewildered.
‘The ring, the ring that became the Horcrux, Marvolo Gaunt said it had the Peverell coat of arms on it! I saw him waving it in the bloke from the Ministry’s face, he nearly shoved it up his nose!’
‘What did the Peverall coat of arms look like?’ asked Allison.
‘Not sure,’ said Harry, trying to remember. ‘There was nothing fancy on there, as far as I could see; maybe a few scratches. I only ever saw it really close up after it had been cracked open.’
Harry saw Theodore’s comprehension in the sudden widening of his eyes. Allison and Tracey were looking from one to the other, astonished.
‘Do…do you think it was the sign again?’ asked Tracey. ‘The sign Mr Lovegood says is for the Deathly Hallows?’
‘Why not,’ said Harry excitedly, ‘Marvolo Gaunt was an ignorant old git who lived like a pig, all he cared about was his ancestry. If that ring had been passed down through the centuries, he might not have known what it really was. There were no books in that house, and trust me, he wasn’t the type to read fairy tales to his kids. He’d have loved to think the scratches on the stone were a coat of arms, because as far as he was concerned, having pure blood made you practically royal.’
‘Alright, it is probably likely he was a descendant of the Peveralls, and I will admit it is possible that the ring had the symbol on it,’ said Theodore very cautiously, we wasn’t taking his eyes off Harry, ‘but you better not be implying what I think you’re implying…’
‘Well, why not? Why not?’ said Harry, abandoning caution. ‘It was a stone, wasn’t it?’ He looked at Allison for support. ‘What
if it was the Resurrection Stone?’
Tracey’s mouth fell open, but Allison maintained her stoic demeanour.
‘I don’t know Harry, that’s a big leap to make,’ she said slowly, ‘and even if it was, do you think it would even still work after being broken by Dumbledore?’
‘Allison, what do you mean “would even still work”?’ said Theodore angrily. ‘It never existed in the first place. There has never in our history something known as the Resurrection Stone!’
Theodore leapt to his feet, looking exasperated and that his anger was boiling to the surface.
‘Harry, you are desperate to make progress in our mission so you are making connections where there aren’t any!’
‘No connections?’ he repeated. ‘Theodore, it all connects on its own accord! I know the sign of the Deathly Hallows was on that stone!
Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!’
‘What are you even saying? A second ago you admitted you never got a good look at the stone or what was engraved in it!’
‘Slight change in topic,’ said Tracey, trying to interject. ‘Harry where do you believe the ring is now? Do you know what Dumbledore did with it after destroying the Horcrux inside it?’
But Harry’s imagination was racing ahead, far beyond those of his three friends…
Three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death...Master...Conqueror...Vanquisher...The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death...
And he saw himself, possessor of the Hallows, facing Voldemort, whose Horcruxes were no match…Neither can live while the other survives…Was this the answer? Hallows versus Horcruxes? Was there a way after all, to ensure that he was the one who triumphed? If he were the master of the Deathly Hallows, would he be safe?
‘Harry?’
But he scarcely heard Tracey: He had pulled out his Invisibility Cloak from her purse and was running it through his fingers, the cloth supple as water, light as air. He had never seen anything to equal it in all his seventeen years. The Cloak was exactly what Xenophilius had described: A cloak that really and truly renders the wearer completely invisible, and endures eternally, giving constant and impenetrable concealment, no matter what spells are cast at it...
And then, with a gasp, he remembered—
‘Dumbledore had my Cloak the night my parents died!’
His voice shook and he could feel the colour in his face, but he did not care.
‘My mum told Sirius that Dumbledore borrowed the Cloak! This is why! He wanted to examine it, because he thought it was the third Hallow! Ignotus Peverell is buried in Godric’s Hollow…’ Harry was walking blindly around the tent, feeling as though great new vistas of truth were opening all around him. ‘He’s my ancestor. I’m descended from the third brother! It all makes sense!’
He felt armed in certainty, in his belief in the Hallows, as if the mere idea of possessing them was giving him protection, and he felt joyous as he turned back to the other three.
‘Harry,’ said Allison this time, but he was busy undoing the pouch around his neck, his fingers shaking hard. ‘Read it,’ he told Theodore, pushing his mother’s letter into his hand. ‘Read it! Dumbledore had the Cloak, Theodore! Why else would he want it? He didn’t need a Cloak, he could perform a Disillusionment Charm so powerful that he made himself completely invisible without one!’
Something fell to the floor and rolled, glittering, under a chair: He had dislodged the Snitch when he pulled out the letter. He stooped to pick it up, and then the newly tapped spring of fabulous discoveries threw him another gift, and shock and wonder erupted inside him so that he shouted out.
‘IT’S IN HERE! He left me the ring—it’s in the Snitch!’
‘Are-are you sure?’ said Allison, seemingly less certain on where she stood on this manner.
He could not understand why she and the others looked taken aback. It was so obvious, so clear to Harry. Everything fit, everything…His Cloak was the third Hallow, and when he discovered how to open the Snitch he would have the second, and then all he needed to do was find the first Hallow, the Elder Wand, and then—
But it was as though a curtain fell on a lit stage: All his excitement, all his hope and happiness were extinguished at a stroke, and he stood alone in the darkness, and the glorious spell was broken.
‘That’s what he’s after.’
The change in his voice made Theodore, Allison, and Tracey look even more scared.
‘You-Know-Who’s after the Elder Wand.’
He turned his back on their strained, incredulous faces. He knew it was the truth. It all made sense, Voldemort was not seeking a new wand; he was seeking an old wand, a very old wand indeed. Harry walked to the entrance of the tent, forgetting about his friends as he looked out into the night, thinking…
Voldemort had been raised in a Muggle orphanage. Nobody could have told him The Tales of Beedle the Bard when he was a child. Hardly any wizards believed in the Deathly Hallows. Was it likely that Voldemort knew about them? Harry gazed into the darkness...If Voldemort had known about the Deathly Hallows, surely he would have sought them, done anything to possess them: three objects that made the possessor master of Death? If he had known about the Deathly Hallows, he might not have needed Horcruxes in the first place. Didn’t the simple fact that he had taken a Hallow, and turned it into a Horcrux, demonstrate that he did not know this last great Wizarding secret?
Which meant that Voldemort sought the Elder Wand without realizing its full power, without understanding that it was one of three...for the wand was the Hallow that could not be hidden, whose existence was best known...The bloody trail of the Elder Wand is splattered across the pages of Wizarding history…
Harry watched the cloudy sky, curves of smoke-gray and silver sliding over the face of the white moon. He felt lightheaded with amazement at his discoveries.
He turned back into the tent. It was a shock to see all three of them standing exactly where he had left them, Theodore still holding Lily’s letter, Allison and Tracey at his side looking slightly anxious. Didn’t they realize how far they had traveled in the last few minutes?
‘This is it?’ Harry said, trying to bring them inside the glow of his own astonished certainty, ‘This explains everything. The Deathly Hallows are real and I’ve got one—maybe two—‘
He held up the Snitch.
‘—and You-Know-Who’s chasing the third, but he doesn’t realize...he just thinks it’s a powerful wand—‘
‘Harry,’ said Theodore in a softer tone, moving across to him and handing him back Lily’s letter, ‘I know this means a lot to you, but I think you are wrong.’
‘But don’t you see? It all fits—‘
‘I’m sorry Harry, but it doesn’t,’ he said. ‘You’re excited and that’s ok, but it’s leading you to wrong conclusions.’
He took a breath before speaking again.
‘Think of it this way,’ said Theodore, ‘if the Deathly Hallows are real, and Dumbledore has known about them for at least sixteen years, and subsequently knew that the person who had all three of them at the same time was considered master of Death, why wouldn’t he tell you?’
Harry had his answer ready.
‘Because of what the three of us discussed before going to Godric’s Hollow. He wants us to discover these things for ourselves. It’s a Quest!’
‘Harry, we only said those things to try and convince ourselves going to Godric’s was worth it, but it almost got us killed. We had to convince ourselves again to go to Mr Lovegood’s home and we all almost died a second time,’ said Tracey, this was some of the most serious he had ever seen her. ‘We don’t actually know what Dumbledore wanted beyond what he actually said to us and you.’
Harry took no notice.
‘Dumbledore usually let me find out stuff for myself. He let me try my strength, take risks. This feels like the kind of thing he’d do.’
‘Harry!’ snapped Allison suddenly, ‘this isn’t a puzzle, this is war, we don’t have time to figure out if the Hallows are worth finding or not! What we do need to find is the last three Horcruxes, that is what Dumbledore actually wanted us to find! More people die the longer it takes us to destroy them!’
Harry was barely listening to her. He was turning the Snitch over and over in his hands, half expecting it to break open, to reveal the Resurrection Stone, to prove to them all that he was right, that the Deathly Hallows were real.
Theodore and Allison turned to Tracey for support. And she nodded.
‘Look Harry, if the Deathly Hallows mean so much to you then when we’ve found and destroyed all the Horcruxes and the war is finished I will happily help you look for them,’ expressed Tracey. ‘For now though, Theodore and Allison are right, the Horcruxes must be our priority. You need to forget about the hallows for now so we can focus on the task at hand.’
‘Thanks,’ Theodore whispered.
‘You’re welcome, I’ll take first watch.’
And she strode past Harry and sat down in the tent entrance bringing the action to a fierce full stop. But Harry hardly slept that night. The idea of the Deathly Hallows had taken possession of him, and he could not rest while agitating thoughts whirled through his mind: the wand, the stone, and the Cloak, if he could just possess them all…I open at the close...But what was the close? Why couldn’t he have the stone now? If only he had the stone, he could ask Dumbledore these questions in person…and Harry murmured words to the Snitch in the darkness, trying everything, even Parseltongue, but the golden ball would not open…
And the wand, the Elder Wand, where was that hidden? Where was Voldemort searching now? Harry wished his scar would burn and show him Voldemort’s thoughts, because for the first time ever, he and Voldemort were united in wanting the very same thing...the others would not like that idea, of course...But then, they did not believe...Xenophilius had been right, about Tracey, Theodore, and even Allison…Limited, Narrow, Close-minded. The truth was that they was scared of the idea of the Deathly Hallows, especially of the Resurrection Stone…and Harry pressed his mouth again to the Snitch, kissing it, nearly swallowing it, but the cold medal did not yield...
It was nearly dawn when he remembered Luna, alone in a cell in Azkaban, surrounded by dementors, and he suddenly felt ashamed of himself. He had forgotten all about her in his feverish contemplation of the Hallows. If only they could rescue her, but dementors in those numbers would be virtually unassailable. Now he came to think about it, he had not tried casting a Patronus with the sycamore wand…He must try that in the morning…
If only there was a way of getting a better wand…And desire for the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, unbeatable, invincible, swallowed him once more…
They packed up the tent next morning and moved on through a dreary shower of rain. The downpour pursued them to the coast, where they pitched the tent that night, and persisted through the whole week, through sodden landscapes that Harry found bleak and depressing. He could think only of the Deathly Hallows. It was as though a flame had been lit inside him that nothing, not Theodore’s flat disbelief nor Tracey and Allison’s persistent doubts, could extinguish. And yet the fiercer the longing for the Hallows burned inside him, the less joyful it made him. He blamed the others: Their determined indifference was as bad as the relentless rain for dampening his spirits, but neither could erode his certainty, which remained absolute. Harry’s belief in and longing for the Hallows consumed him so much that he felt isolated from the other three and their obsession with the Horcruxes.
‘Obsession?’ said Tracey in a low fierce voice, when Harry was careless enough to use the word one evening, after she had told him off for his lack of interest in locating more Horcruxes.
‘Harry, it is our job to find the Horcruxes, it’s not a choice,’ she protested. ‘The rest of us aren’t the ones obsessed with something.’
But he was impervious to the veiled criticism. Dumbledore had left the sign of the Hallows for Theodore to decipher, and he had also, Harry remained convinced of it, left the Resurrection Stone hidden in the golden Snitch. Neither can live while the other survives…master of Death…Why didn’t the other three understand?
‘“The last enemy shall be destroyed is death,”’ Harry quoted calmly.
‘Maybe, but for now it is You-Know-Who that we have to put all our efforts into defeating,’ Tracey retorted, and Harry gave up on her.
Even the mystery of the silver doe, which the other three insisted on discussing, seemed less important to Harry now, a vaguely interesting sideshow. The only other thing that mattered to him was that his scar had begun to prickle again, although he did all he could to hide this fact from the other two. He sought solitude whenever it happened, but was disappointed by what he saw. The visions he and Voldemort were sharing had changed in quality; they had become blurred, shifting as though they were moving in and out of focus. Harry was just able to make out the indistinct features of an object that looked like a skull, and something like a mountain that was more shadow than substance. Used to images sharp as reality, Harry was disconcerted by the change.
He was worried that the connection between himself and Voldemort had been damaged, a connection that he both feared and, whatever he had told Tracey, prized. Somehow Harry connected these unsatisfying, vague images with the destruction of his wand, as if it was the sycamore wand’s fault that he could no longer see into Voldemort’s mind as well as before.
As the months crept on, Harry could not help but notice, even through his new self-absorption, that Allison seemed to be taking charge. Perhaps because she was determined to make up for having walked out on them, perhaps because Harry’s descent into listlessness galvanized her leadership qualities, Allison was the one now encouraging and exhorting the other three into action.
‘We’ve got three Horcruxes left,’ she kept saying. ‘We have to come up with a plan on what we’re going to do. With Potterwatch upping their security on how to listen in we’re going to need to use the info we already have. What are places with significance to him that we haven’t thoroughly checked already? The orphanage…’
Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, the Riddle House, Borgin and Burkes, Albania, every place that they knew Tom Riddle had ever lived or worked, visited or murdered, Allison, Tracey, and Theodore raked over them again, Harry joining in only to stop Theodore pestering him. He would have been happy to sit alone in silence, trying to read Voldemort’s thoughts, to find out more about the Elder Wand, but Allison insisted on journeying to ever more unlikely places simply, Harry was aware, to keep them moving.
‘We might have to try everywhere,’ said Allison in a way that somehow made it sound like a good idea. ‘Tutshill has a large magical community, it’s possible there might be information we need there. We should travel there next and look around.’
These frequent forays into Wizarding territory brought them within occasional sight of Snatchers.
‘Supposedly some of their higher ranks are just as bad as Death Eaters,’ said Allison. ‘Of course the group I ran into when I left weren’t the brightest. Still, if Fenrir Greyback is one of their leaders I don’t think we should relax when they’re around.’
Just hearing that name made Harry’s blood boil. All the pain and suffering he had caused Remus, Canini, and hundreds of other children and their parents.
‘How do you know he’s a Snatcher?’ Harry asked in a grumble.
‘It was reported on the last Potterwatch I managed to tune into,’ she explained. ‘It’s so frustrating that I haven’t been able to listen to any in months. After Kingsley just barely escaping capture and what happened to the also Potter friendly Quibbler they must be changing broadcast locations and frequencies as well as their normal changing passwords and air time.’
Allison spent evening after evening using her wand to beat out various rhythms on top of the wireless while the dials whirled. Occasionally they would catch snatches of advice on how to treat dragonpox, and once a few bars of ‘A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love.’ While he taped, Allison continued to try to hit on the correct password, muttering strings of random words and names under her breath.
‘I’m worried they stopped using Order names as passwords,’ she told them. ‘Because if they have then the password could be anything…’
But not until halfway through the second week in April did luck favour Allison at last. Harry was sitting in the tent entrance, on guard duty, staring idly at a clump of grape hyacinths that had forced their way through the chilly ground, when Allison shouted excitedly from inside the tent.
‘I’ve got it! I found the password! It was “Albus”! Everyone get over here!’
Roused for the first time in days from his contemplation of the Deathly Hallows, Harry hurried back inside the tent to find Allison, Theodore, and Tracey kneeling on the floor beside the little radio. It was so nice to hear familiar friendly voices.
‘…apologize for our temporary absence from the airwaves, which was due to a number of house calls in our area by those charming Death Eaters,’ said Lee Jordan. ‘We also had to find a spot with as little magic as possible to protect Rangefinder from the trace.’
‘Trace or no trace, you can trust that I’ll always be here to share the truth,’ said Colin proudly.
‘Correct, that’s why we’ve found ourselves another secure location,’ continued Lee, ‘and I’m pleased to tell you listeners that two more of our regular contributors have joined me here this evening. Evening, boys!’
‘Hi.’
‘Evening, River.’
‘But before we hear from Royal and Romulus,’ Lee went on, ‘let’s take a moment to report those deaths that the Wizarding Wireless Network News and Daily Prophet don’t think important enough to mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell.’
Harry felt a sick, swooping in his belly. Theodore gasped. Harry’s heart felt as though it would stop. His uncle Ted…dead? Tracey gazed at the two brothers with great sadness, Allison took Harry’s hand into hers.
‘A goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed. It is believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both believed to have been traveling with Tonks, Cresswell, and Gornuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news.’
Colin then took over, ‘We have also sadly learned that a Muggle family of five in Gaddley have all been found dead in their home. Local Muggle law enforcement are attributing their deaths to a gas leak, but a member of the Order of the Phoenix has informed us that their deaths were actually caused by the Killing Curse. This is just more sickening evidence that those currently in power view Muggle lives as worthless, and killing them as sport.’
‘Finally,’ continued Lee, ‘we regret to inform our listeners that the remains of Bathilda Bagshot have been discovered in Godric’s Hollow. The evidence is that she died several months ago. The Order of the Phoenix informs us that her body showed unmistakable signs of injuries inflicted by Dark Magic. Listeners, I’d like to invite you now to join us in a minute’s silence in memory of Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell, Bathilda Bagshot, Gornuk, and the unnamed, but no less regretted, Muggles murdered by the Death Eaters.’
Silence fell, and Harry, Theodore, Allison, and Tracey did not speak. Half of Harry yearned to hear more, half of him was afraid of what might come next. He still was in shock that his uncle who he had known most of his life, his aunt Andromeda’s beloved husband, and Tonks’ dad, was dead. Allison continued to squeeze his hand for support, and while he didn’t say anything, he greatly appreciated it. This broadcast was filled with mixed emotions, as while it had told him such terrible news, it was still the first time he had felt fully connected to the outside world for a long time.
‘Thank you,’ said Lee’s voice. ‘And now we can return to regular contributor Royal, for an update on how the new Wizarding order is affecting the Muggle world.’
‘Thanks, River,’ said the deep, measured, reassuring voice of Kingsley.
‘Muggles remain ignorant of the source of their suffering as they continue to sustain heavy casualties,’ said Kingsley. ‘However, we continue to hear truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbours, often without the Muggles’ knowledge. I’d like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken.’
‘And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be “Wizards first”?’ asked Lee.
‘I’d say that it’s one short step from “Wizards first” to “Pure-bloods first,” and then to “Death Eaters,”’ replied Kingsley. ‘We’re all human, aren’t we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.’
‘Excellently put, Royal, and you’ve got my vote for Minister of Magic if we ever get out of this mess,’ said Lee. ‘And now, over to Romulus for our new popular feature “Pals of Potter.”’
‘Thanks, River,’ said Remus in a solemn but calm voice.
‘Romulus, do you maintain, as you have every time you’ve appeared on our program, that Harry Potter is still alive?’
‘I do,’ said Remus firmly. ‘There is no doubt at all in my mind that his death would be proclaimed as widely as possible by the Death Eaters if it had happened, because it would strike a deadly blow at the morale of those resisting the new regime. “The Boy Who Lived” remains a symbol of everything for which we are fighting: the triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting.’
Harry’s heavy heart was lifted somewhat. It was good to hear his father’s voice. And him sharing his confidence in Harry really made him believe he had changed since they all had seen him last at Grimmauld Place.
‘And what would you say to Harry if you knew he was listening, Romulus?’
‘I’d tell him, and all who are with him helping, that we’re all with them in spirit,’ said Remus, then hesitated slightly, ‘and I’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.’
Harry looked at Theodore, whose eyes were full of tears, causing Harry’s eyes to leak a bit as well. They may have been fighting, but right now they were two brothers who both just lost their uncle and both were hearing reassuring words from their distant father.
‘All who are with him…’ Theodore muttered.
‘…and our usual update on those friends of Harry Potter’s who are suffering for their allegiance?’ Lee was saying.
‘Well, as regular listeners will know, several of the more out-spoken supporters of Harry Potter have now been imprisoned, including Xenophilius Lovegood, erstwhile editor of The Quibbler,’ said Remus.
‘Well at least we now know he’s alive,’ whispered Tracey.
‘We have also heard within the last few hours that Rubeus Hagrid’—all four of them gasped, and so nearly missed the rest of the sentence—‘well-known gamekeeper at Hogwarts School, has narrowly escaped arrest within the grounds of Hogwarts, where he is rumored to have hosted a “Support Harry Potter” party in his house. However, Hagrid was not taken into custody, and is, we believe, on the run.’
‘Perhaps having a sixteen-foot-high magic resistant half brother helps when you’re fleeing Death Eaters,’ suggested Colin.
‘It would tend to give you an edge,’ agreed Remus gravely. ‘May I just add that while we here at Potterwatch applaud Hagrid’s spirit, we would urge even the most devoted of Harry’s supporters against following Hagrid’s lead. “Support Harry Potter” parties are unwise in the present climate.’
‘Indeed they are, Romulus,’ said Lee, ‘so we suggest that you continue to show your devotion to the man with the lightning scar by listening to Potterwatch! And now let’s move to news concerning the wizard who is proving just as elusive as Harry Potter. We like to refer to him as the Chief Death Eater, and here to give his views on some of the more insane rumours circulating about him, I’d like to introduce a new correspondent. Rodent?’
‘“Rodent”?’ said either the voice of Fred or George.
‘I believe it’s Fred,’ said Allison, ‘because Tonks told me the twin we’ve normally been listening to for the last seven months was George.’
‘I’m not being “Rodent,” no way, I told you I wanted to be “Rapier”!’
‘Oh, all right then, “Rapier,” could you please give us your take on the various stories we’ve been hearing about the Chief Death Eater?’
‘Yes, River, I can,’ said Fred. ‘As our listeners will know, unless they’ve taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond or somewhere similar, You-Know-Who’s strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice little climate of panic. Mind you, if all the alleged sightings of him are genuine, we must have a good nineteen You-Know-Whos running around the place.’
‘Which suits him, of course,’ said Kingsley. ‘The air of mystery is creating more terror than actually showing himself.’
‘Agreed,’ said Fred. ‘So, people, let’s try and calm down a bit. Things are bad enough without inventing stuff as well. For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill people with a single glance from his eyes. That’s a basilisk, listeners. One simple test: Check whether the thing that’s glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it’s safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that’s still likely to be the last thing you ever do.’
For the first time in weeks and weeks, Harry was laughing: He could feel the weight of tension leaving him.
‘And the rumours that he keeps being sighted abroad?’ asked Lee.
‘Well, who wouldn’t want a nice little holiday after all the hard work he’s been putting in?’ asked Fred. ‘Point is, people, don’t get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he’s out of the country. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t, but the fact remains he can move faster than Severus Snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to, so don’t count on him being a long way away if you’re planning to take any risks. I never thought I’d hear myself say it, but safety first!’
‘Thank you very much for those wise words, Rapier,’ said Lee. ‘Listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. We don’t know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials: The next password will be “Mad-Eye.” Keep each other safe: Keep faith. Good night.’
The radio’s dial twirled and the lights behind the tuning panel went out. Harry, Theodore, Allison, and Tracey were still beaming, even with tears still being in Harry and Theodore’s eyes. Hearing familiar, friendly voices was an extraordinary tonic; Harry had become so used to their isolation he had nearly forgotten that other people were resisting Voldemort. It was like waking from a long sleep.
‘You good?’ asked Allison as she slowly released Harry’s hand.
‘Brilliant,’ said Harry happily.
‘They are all so brave,’ said Theodore. ‘I’m so proud of h-them.’
‘I just hope they continue to stay safe, it sounds like they had a close call,’ said Tracey with a sigh of admiration.
‘They’re all D.A. members or former aurors, they should be ok,’ said Allison with confidence.
‘But did you hear what Fred said?’ asked Harry excitedly; now the broadcast was over, his thoughts turned around toward his all consuming obsession. ‘He’s abroad! He’s still looking for the Wand, I knew it!’
‘Harry—‘ said Theodore very cautiously.
‘Come on, Theo, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol—‘
‘HARRY, NO!’ screamed Allison.
‘—demort’s after the Elder Wand!’
‘The name’s Taboo!’ Allison bellowed, leaping to her feet along with Tracey and Theodore as a loud crack sounded outside the tent. ‘We can’t say that name anymore—quick, everyone cast enchantments around the—‘
But Allison stopped talking, and Harry knew why. The Sneakoscope on the table had lit up and begun to spin; they could hear voices coming nearer and nearer: rough, excited voices. Allison pulled the Deluminator out of her pocket and clicked it: Their lamps went out.
‘Come out of there with your hands up!’ came a rasping and bone chillingly familiar voice through the darkness. ‘We know you’re in there! You’ve got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don’t care who we curse!’
