Theodore Nott

20 year Anniversary of Battle of Hogwarts

(I felt like going one last piece for my Slytherin Raised By Wolfstar series, so I decided to write my version of the Dumbledore's Army reunion. Warning though, if you aren't familiar with my series OR if you haven't read the 1998-2017 notes than you may have difficulty understanding what is going on but it should still be a pleasant read.)

[The stuff I wrote as Rita possess her dramatic tendencies and may not be accurate to the 100% truth of reality.]

Enjoy : )

Tags: @Pervaza972 @CatsAndRoblox @Missy Clara Oswald (love the new profile pic) @SaphireStark @Mega.mind.harry.potter @Interested.me

Friday, July 13th

Graciosa Glamour: Wizarding World's Who's Who Flock to Bola Voador Stadium

By: Rita Skeeter

I'm here to report on those spotted here at the camp near the sun-kissed shores of Graciosa Island: the crème de la crème of the wizarding world! I'm talking A-listers, folks! There are the expected of course, Ministers and Presidents, but this year I am at Bola Voador Stadium to observe and report on those who truly make waves in our society, such as pop sensation Celestina Warbeck making an appearances and sending the crowd into a frenzy. And don't even get me started on brilliant but controversial artist Eris Foxglove - the American's presence has been causing quite the stir! Fans and haters alike are going wild, clamoring for autographs and even resorting to Bridging Charms to sneak a peek at the VIP boxes. It's absolute pandemonium, and I am here for it all!

But when word swept the campsite and stadium that a certain gang of infamous wizards and witches (no longer the fresh-faced teenagers they were in their heyday, but nevertheless recognisable) had arrived for the final, excitement was beyond anything yet seen. As the crowd stampeded, tents were flattened and small children mown down. Fans from all corners of the globe stormed towards the area where members of Dumbledore's Army were rumoured to have been sighted, desperate above all else for a glimpse of the man they still call the Chosen One.

The Potter family and the rest of Dumbledore's Army have been given accommodation in the VIP section of the campsite, which is protected by heavy charms and patrolled by Security Warlocks. Their presence has ensured large crowds along the cordoned area, all hoping for a glimpse of their heroes. At 3pm today they got their wish when, to the accompaniment of loud screams, Potter took his two sons, Sirius and Dobby (Dobs) to visit the players' compound, where Ireland's Captain and Seeker Terence Higgs, and his family, were staying.

About to turn 38, there are a few more streaks of silver in the famous Auror's black hair than there were at the previous Quidditch World Cup, but he continues to wear the distinctive round glasses that some might say are better suited to a tween of the 90s. The famous lightning scar has company: Potter is sporting a nasty bruise over his left temple. Requests for information as to its provenance merely produced the usual response from the Ministry of Magic: ‘We do not comment on the top secret work of the Auror department, as we have told you no less than 514 times, Ms. Skeeter.' So what are they hiding? Is the Chosen One embroiled in a fresh mystery, possibly related to the hushed Calamity, that will one day explode upon us all, plunging us into a new age of terror and mayhem?

Or does his injury have a more humble origin, one that Potter is desperate to hide? Has his wife perhaps injured him? Are cracks beginning to show in a union that the Potters are determined to promote as happy? Should we read anything into the fact that his wife Allison chose a profession that often has her leave her husband and children behind in London to train and compete with the Tutshill Tornados, sometimes for weeks on end? whilst reporting on this tournament? There are rumours that the famous Beater maybe retiring soon, but if she makes her separation away from her family more permanent she may wish to stay with her team for years still to come.

As my longtime viewers will remember, Higgs stole Potter’s first love many moons ago, but apparently there are no hard feelings, as they embraced upon meeting, and Higgs’ triplet daughters come out to greet the three Potters as though they were kin. Potter’s eldest and Higgs two identical daughters then seemingly proceeded to pull a spontaneous prank on the younger two Slytherin’s of the two families, much to the Gryffindor and Hufflepuffs’ delight. (what really happened in that maze? After half an hour's chat, Potter and his sons returned to the campsite where they socialised with the rest of Dumbledore's Army until the small hours.

In the next tents are Potter's two closest associates, the ones who know everything about him and yet have always refused to talk to the press. Are they afraid of him, or is it their own secrets they are afraid will leak out, tarnishing the myth of He Who Could Not Be Named's defeat? To one side is the absentee owner of Borgin and Burkes, werewolf Magizoologist Canini Howling, the adoptive younger sister of Potter who recently has returned from a month long expedition in Bermuda with her daughter. Potter spends a great deal of time catching up with her, as does his three kids with their adoptive cousin. Little is known about this mysterious little sister, as even when Ms Howling resides in the UK she is hard to find as her residence of the Ancient House of Black family home is still unplottable, makes one think what she could be up too.

Don’t have to do much digging however to learn what Potter’s cousin-in-law and former foster brother Theodore Nott is up to these days. There is hardly a day Nott isn’t working on one cure or another in St. Mungo’s Alchemy Room. His greatest success to date came just a few short months ago with his now famous Remus Dreamus. The upgraded Wolfsbane potion has been such a success in fact, that rumours suggest Nott will soon be the recipient of an Order of Merlin Second Class, which would mean he would be receiving his nearly exactly twenty years after his first love, Colin Creevey, posthumously received his. Poor Mr Nott never did seem to get over this loss, as even after marrying someone else he still insisted on naming their first born child after Mr Creevey. I can’t imagine the embarrassment that must have caused for husband Auror Terry Boot.

Just like Potter, these two family members fought during the Battle of Hogwarts alongside the rest of the surviving members of Dumbledore’s army, most of which are also present today. For their great deed they each no doubt deserve the plaudits and awards for bravery heaped upon them by a grateful wizarding world that they have received, but have their twenty years of actions since been as praise worthy?

One of the few whose worthiness isn’t in question isn’t even staying in the VIP camp, but with the staff of the games themselves. Recently appointed Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports Ronald Weasley surely has a chance to claim to be the most occupationally successful Weasley to date. Though his famous ginger hair appears to be thinning slightly, his luck and charisma only seem to grow as he ages. After helping his brother George with the popular wizarding joke emporium Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes for a couple years, Ronald moved on to work for the Games division of the Ministry where he quickly made waves, worked on increasingly memorable events, and now has planned and coordinated what he has promised to be the most spectacular Quidditch World Cup in a millennium.

The same admiration can not be said for his fellow Dumbledore's Army wife, Hermione Weasley-Granger, who has earned quite mixed opinions from all citizens of the UK. Some of her legislation over the the last two decades from her time as both a D.R.C.M.C. employee and now as Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has undeniably been positive (although the positive outcry of her and Minister For Magic Shacklebolt's repeal of the Employee Safety From Lycanthropy Legislation were likely from people to afraid of upsetting the pro-werewolf Potter family), but many of her other deeds have had varying results at beast, such as her nepotism from helping her younger Muggle sister get hired by the Department of Muggle Relations when she turned eighteen, or the recent very controversial ruling that no House-Elf is allowed to be owned by anyone, how ridiculous is that? The only thing going for her is the two kids she shares with Mr Weasley, a Gryffindor daughter, Rose, and a son, Hugo.

The final true Dumbledore's Army celebrity of any note is Hogwarts new Charms Professor, Ireland National Team Seeker's wife, and for Potter girlfriend, Tracey Higgs. Beloved Professor Flitwick finally retired last September after over fifty years of Charms teacher only to be replaced with what has so far unanimously been described as an even more beloved Professor. The nineteen years following the battle of Hogwarts, Mrs Higgs has reportedly only predominately done two main things, study and invent as many charms, jinxes, and hexes as she could, and be a caring mother towards her triplet daughters, and it is this vast knowledge and great empathy that she supposedly brings to her course. It is hard to believe she was once a Slytherin, but it was no surprise that two of her three daughter were sorted into Hufflepuff.

Then there are those members of Dumbledore's Army who receive slightly less publicity than Potter, Howling, Nott, Higgs', and Ronald Weasleys and his wife (are they resentful? Almost certainly). Neville Longbottom, now a popular Herbology teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is here in Patagonia with his spouse Hannah. Until recently the pair lived in an apartment above the Leaky Cauldron in London, but rumour has it that Hannah has not only retrained as a Healer, but is applying for the job of Matron at Hogwarts. Idle gossip suggests that ze and zir husband both enjoy a little more Ogden's Old Firewhisky than most of us would expect from custodians of our children, but no doubt we all wish zir the best of luck with zir application.

Ronald's younger sister Ginerva Corner is also here as a Quidditch Correspondent, but we'll unfortunately be seeing (and worse so hearing) a great deal of Sunday so for now we best move on. Duelist Susan Bones is present with her wife Lily Moon, readers may recall Bones just barely lost first place in a Russian competition three months back, but she is set to compete again on her home turf at the end of this coming October. One late arrival would be Ella Wilkins, as she had to prepare three days worth of enchanted baked goods to sell at this event, which the entire campsite seems to be enjoying.

Last of the ringleaders of Dumbledore's Army is, of course, Luna Lovegood (now married to Rolf Scamander, swarthy grandson of celebrated Magizoologist Newt). Still delightfully eccentric, Luna has been sweeping around the VIP section in robes composed of the flags of all sixteen qualifying countries. Her twin sons are ‘at home with grandpa'. Is this a euphemism for ‘too disturbed to be seen in public'? Surely only the unkindest would suggest so.

Sundry other members of the Army are here, but it is on these few I have mentioned that most interest is focused. Wherever there is a red head one may make an educated guess that it belongs to a Weasley, but it is difficult to tell whether it is George (wealthy manager of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes), Charlie (dragon wrangler, still unmarried, with gossipers speculating he may be an ace in the hole?), Percy (Head of the Department of Magical Transportation – it's his fault if the Floo Network's too busy!), or Bill (who used to be the most recognisable with a disfigured face from a werewolf attack – why was the Employee Safety From Lycanthropy Legislation repealed again – has since taken Nott's cursed scar cure and is now all shiny and new, likely much to his French Veela wife's delight)..)

Word is that we shall see these and other members of Dumbledore's Army in the VIP boxes at the final, adding to the glitz and razzmatazz of a gala occasion. Let us hope that the behaviours of all of their offspring don't embarrass them, heaping shame on those who have previously brought honour to the name of wizard.

One always hesitates to invade the privacy of young people, but the fact is that anyone who even remotely close connected with Harry Potter reaps the benefits and must pay the penalty of public interest. No doubt Potter will be distressed to know that his twenty-year-old godson Teddy Karasu-Tonks – a lanky shapeshifter with bright blue hair – has been behaving in a way unbefitting of wizarding royalty since arriving on the VIP campsite. It might be asking too much that the always-busy Potter keep a tighter rein on this wild boy, who was raised almost evenly by his surviving mother and Potter, but one shudders to think what will become of Master Karasu-Tonks without urgent intervention. Meanwhile, Mr and Mrs Bill Weasley might like to know that their beautiful, blonde eighteen year old daughter Victoire seems to be attracted to any dark corner where Master Karasu-Tonks happens to be lurking. The good news is both of them seem to have invented a method of breathing through their ears. I can think of no other reason how they have survived such prolonged periods of what, in my young day, was called ‘snogging.'

But let us not be severe. Harry Potter and his cohorts never claimed to be perfect! And for those who want to know exactly how imperfect they are, my new biography: Dumbledore's Army: The Dark Side of the Demob will be available from Flourish and Blotts on July 31st.

Sunday, July 15th

Commentary by Rita Skeeter and Ginerva Corner

Ginny Corner

--

The stadium is full and the noise is deafening. We await the arrival of both team's mascots, who will put on a pre-match show. The Canadians, of course, bring their celebrated enchanted singing and dancing troupe of Wood Nymph, which constitutes a major reason for the team's popularity. Ireland's Leprechaun have already caused a great deal of mischief so far this tournament but are similarly popular, mostly because of their magical false gold. Security wizards stand by all around the perimeter in case of trouble.

Rita Skeeter

--

The VIP boxes are now full. The Canadian Minister of Magic Estelle Cormier, is chatting to our own Minister For Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, but all eyes are on Box Two, where Dumbledore's Army sit under close guard, to prevent mobbing by an overexcited crowd. The Potter family – including the adoptive sister, second cousin-in-law, and their families – have been given prime places in the front row. All are wearing the green of Ireland except young child Lily-Balance (Lily-Bali), who is seemingly sporting Canadian red and white. This will undoubtedly send the gossips into overdrive – what message is young Lily-Bali sending us all by choosing to support a team other than his father's? A team, lest we forget, that is competing against a friend of her father who is so close they treat like an uncle. Are we witnessing a very public, very ugly display of father-son rivalry? My colleague, Ginny Corner, who is somewhat close friends with the Potters and is sitting close enough to read everything my Quick-Quotes Quill is scribbling, informs me that Lily-Bali is just a great fan of Canadian Chaser Cas Eask. That, of course, would be one possible explanation for this oddly public parade of familial dissent.

Ginny Corner

--

The crowd roar as the gates open and the mascot troupes assemble! First, the Canadian Wood Nymphs, dressed in cheering gowns made entirely of different flowers, and singing a majestic French melody. Their accompanying dance routine is also quite something to behold.

Rita Skeeter

--

Up in the VIP Box something completely unexpected has just occurred. The son of wealthy philanthropist Draco Malfoy, Scorpius has just snuck up from his family’s box a few below and has now entered the Potter and gang box. Potter and Draco Malfoy have a very intense and complicated relationship, one that at times was hostile during their Hogwarts years. I wonder if Draco Malfoy has sent his young son to spy on the Potters, or pull a malicious prank. Scorpius is approaching and…sits down directly next to Potter’s youngest son Dobs. Facilitating, it would appear the two young Slytherins have been able to form quite a bond, one I doubt their fathers approve of.

Ginny Corner

--

And here come the Leprechauns with their Forrest green festive outfits. Gigging, performing acrobatics together, stealing hats from fans and generally creating mayhem, the stadium is greatly enjoying their antics.

Rita Skeeter

--

It is always enchanting to observe young people enjoying the culture and traditions of other wizarding nations. Unfortunately, Master Teddy Karasu-Tonks and Ms Victoire Weasley appear to be far more interested in what they are saying to each other than – I take that back. In what some may see as a somewhat belated show of parental authority, Mr Bill Weasley has swapped places with his now very sulky-looking daughter and is directing her attention to the pitch. It is indeed a terrible waste not to drink in the magnificent spectacle now unfolding before us, with the colours and dancing and whatnot.

Harry Potter is saying something with a smile into his wife's ear.

Ginny Corner

--

The opening ceremony concludes with an interesting Nymph/Leprechaun pyramid formation, with the highest Leprechauns now showering the crowd with their gold. I must say this cooperation between mascots is a great improvement from the first Quidditch World Cup I attended twenty years ago, which ended in an all out brawl and many were maimed.

And here come the two teams – Canada in red, Ireland in green!

Rita Skeeter

--

While I had expected the Higgs family to be supporting Ireland, I had thought there might be some variety amongst the rest of Potters family. Both Nott’s first son as well as his adoptive son, Jason, are decked out with violently green scarves and flags (young Slytherin Colin must feel as though he’s back at Hogwarts), and little Dora Howling is wearing an Irish flag as a blanket as the evening air begins to cool. The only one of Potter's closest companions not in green, other than his daughter, is Hermione Weasley-Granger is not wearing anything to indicate which team she is supporting. Does she hope to portray diplomatic neutrality one might expect of a ruthless careerist whose long-term ambition is undoubtedly to be Minister for Magic?

Ginny Corner

0.00 hours

And they're off! Fourteen players rise into the air for the 428th Quidditch World Cup final!

Rita Skeeter

0.01 hours

Neville Longbottom is already on his feet cheering, even though nothing has really happened yet. Is he drunk?

Ginny Corner

0.05 hours

The Quaffle is in Canada's possession but slick defence from Quigley and Casey has so far prevented them from scoring. Eask, Johnson, Wilson are relentless, ducking and weaving as they try to find a way past the Irish Beaters.

Rita Skeeter

0.18 hours

Luna Lovegood appears to be passing out some kind of snack to her friends in the VIP box. Some might hesitate to accept baked goods from Lovegood, whose schoolgirl nickname, I am reliably informed, was 'Loony'. They'll probably swap it for some of Wilkins' treats when no one is looking.

Ginny Corner

0.32 hours

An excellent intercept by Irish Chaser McFly and Ireland are streaking towards the goal – thrown to Sheriff – ouch! Even the Canadians groaned in sympathy there as a Bludger hit Sheriff hard in the throat. He drops the Quaffle, which is caught by Eask. Canada is back in possession!

Rita Skeeter

0.33 hours

Neville Longbottom is laughing hard at something that Harry Potter has leaned across and whispered to him. What is so amusing? Why such an open display of humour in full view of the public? Surely Potter is aware that everybody in the stadium can see him? Is it not rather elitist to enjoy 'private' jokes with fellow celebrities when people in the cheap seats cannot hear them?

Ginny Corner

0.37 hours

And it's first blood to Canada with a spectacular goal from Eask!

Rita Skeeter

0.38 hours

Lily-Bali Potter has almost toppled out of the VIP box cheering for her favourite Quidditch player. Family friend Tracey Higgs uncle seized the back of her robes and saved her from what would surely have been a death of international significance, spawning news stories across the wizarding world. Brother Sirius is laughing heartily (did he push his sister?). Harry Potter appears completely unconcerned, merely handing his only daughter one of 'Loony' Lovegood's treats.

Ginny Corner

0.42 hours

Quigley and Casey are successfully disrupting the Canadian Chasers, preventing the formidable trio from scoring a second goal, but Ireland is relying far too much on their defence and their last touch of the Quaffle resulted in a drop and fumble by Sheriff. No sign of the Snitch so far.

Rita Skeeter

0.54 hours

Harry Potter, Mrs Potter, and Mrs Higgs is cheering every move the Irish team does, whether they've actually done something worth of cheering or not. Nott's husband, Auror Terry Boot, has just yawned . Whether he intends to convey boredom, or is merely exhausted after Dumbledore's Army's long night of noisy revelry in the VIP section of the campsite, has yet to be determined, but I am sure there will be consequences for this act of blatant rudeness.

Ginny Corner

0.59 hours

Fergus O'Neil breaks through the Canadian defence and equalises! Ten all!

Rita Skeeter

1.10 hours

One of Dumbledore's Army last minute members, Seamus Finnigan, is jumping up and down like a school girl, probably excited that his cousin did something interesting. He is in the further back of the VIP section with most of the other more minor members of Dumbledore's army. Around him I can see Dean Thomas, couple Ernie and Lavender Macmillan, my fellow Correspondent Ginerva Corner's husband Michael Corner, and British National Quidditch team players Adrian Pucey and Scarlett Lympsham, among still many others.t

Ginny Corner

1.23 hours

A sudden burst of quick-fire Quaffle passes has resulted in a brace of goals for Canada, whose Chasers are tearing up and down the pitch. Cas Eask has scored twice more and Sophia Johnson once, taking the score to 40-10. Ireland is making too many careless mistakes and need to take the offensive. Canada looking far the stronger team at this point.

Rita Skeeter

1.31 hours

Charlie Weasley – or 'The "Arrow" That Hits No One' as he is often known - is a burly chap carrying several burns due to his work with dragons. Like his sister-in-law Hermione 'Bored Yawn' Weasley-Granger, he is paying little attention to the match, preferring what seems to be a most interesting talk with Rolf Scamander, husband of 'Loony' Lovegood. How difficult it has been to marry 'into' Dumbledore's Army we can only speculate. Nobody who witnessed it will ever forget the shock on Scamander's face when he saw Lovegood's wedding dress – rainbows, spangles and a tiara of silver unicorn horns, voted 'Most Hideous Outfit of the Year' by readers of my regular Daily Prophet column. While Lovegood and Scamander appear to be holding hands in the VIP box, this might well be because Rolf is trying to prevent his wife from putting on one of her famous Special Event Hats.

Ginny Corner

1.43 hours

THE SNITCH HAS BEEN SIGHTED! With the score standing at 50-20 (following goals one minute apart from Wilson and Flynn) a flash of gold near the Canadian hoops leads LeBlanc and Higgs into a breakneck chase – Beaters and Chasers scatter – Higgs is ahead but narrowly misses a capture – as the Snitch soars upwards, both Seekers look around desperately but it is no luck – the Snitch has disappeared again.

Rita Skeeter

1.58 hours

George Weasley, wealthy owner of joke shop Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, has only one ear. This disability did not prevent him from marrying his dead brother's ex-girlfriend Angelina Johnson, or from fathering two children with her: Fred and Roxanne. They are putting on a show of family togetherness up in the box. However, few will forget the recent rumours that – in spite of the plentiful gold brought in by such inventions as Puking Pastilles – Angelina has grown restless in her marriage and recently left the marital home to – my colleague, Ginny Corner, has just informed me that Angelina left the marital home to care for her sick father. Many will think that a likely story. Meanwhile, Teddy Karasu-Tonks and Victoire Weasley have taken advantage of their elders' inattention to find their way back into adjacent seats.

Ginny Corner

2.03 hours

Moments after Johnson lengthens Canada's lead – 60-20 – Beater Kilabuk hits Terence Higgs hard over the head with her bat. The referee is examining Omniocular footage to determine whether a foul has been committed. The game has been paused.

Rita Skeeter

2.04 hours

A great groan has issued from the crowd, undoubtedly in response to Ronald Weasley flagrantly and openly kissing his wife on the cheek. This piece of disgusting exhibitionism appears to have disgusted spectators – my colleague, Ginny Corner, has just informed me that the crowd groaned because one of the players has sustained an injury. Tracey Higgs looks white as a ghost, so possible it was the Seeker, but it doesn't really matter.

Ginny Corner

2.21 hours

No foul! Azorean referee Hélder Jordão concludes that Elizabeth Kilabuk did not mean to hit Terence Higgs around the back of the skull with her Beater's bat. Higgs signals that he is fit to continue and play resumes!

Rita Skeeter

2.36 hours

Nearly widowed Tracey Higgs has put on a false brave face as she tries to console her daughters who in truth don't look like they need it as they are currently laughing at Allison Potter, one of their godmother's, who appears to be spiritedly describing the precise manner in which Higgs sustained his nosebleed. Mrs Potter has always been a brute, and now her lack of empathy is on full display, even if Mrs Higgs is now joining in on the laughing.

Ginny Corner

2.38 hours

Mere minutes after play resumes, Higgs and LeBlanc are rocketing suddenly upwards - five thousand Omnioculars follow the pair into Graciosa Island's dazzling night sky -

Rita Skeeter

2.39 hours

Dumbledore's Army seem agitated and tense. Has one of them grievously offended the others? Have bitter wounds been reopened here, in front of thousands of people, where everybody hoped merely to enjoy a unique sporting occasion? Ought Dumbledore's Army draw such flagrant attention to themselves when - apparently - something exciting is happening on the pitch? Or are they using this as a cover to air old grievances?

Ginny Corner

2.40 hours

Higgs and LeBlanc are in a breakneck dash for the Snitch, which LeBlanc sighted first – she is four feet ahead of Higgs as both rise almost vertically –

Rita Skeeter

2.41 hours

Everyone is on their feet, including the denizens of the VIP boxes – Harry Potter is shouting – if my lip-reading is accurate, Mrs Potter is swearing –

Ginny Corner

2.42 hours

Higgs is gaining on LeBlanc but will it be enough…?

Rita Skeeter

2.43 hours

Teddy Karasu-Tonks has accidentally punched his girlfriend on the nose as he gesticulates – are we about to witness a breakup, live at the Quidditch World Cup?

Ginny Corner

2.43 hours

Higgs and LeBlanc neck and neck –

Rita Skeeter

2.44 hours

Teddy Karasu-Tonks and Victoire Weasley snuggled up together again – don't they care about Quidditch at all? Should they be taking up valuable space in this stadium, when all eyes ought to be glued on the pitch? When so many poor witches or wizards would simply love to be here?

Ginny Corner

2.45 hours

HIGGS' GOT THE SNITCH! IRELAND HAS WON!

Rita Skeeter

2.45 hours

I can't see the VIP boxes – everyone is jumping up and down –

Ginny Corner

--

The crowds are going crazy – after two and three-quarter hours of adrenalin filled competition, Ireland has won the Quidditch World Cup and Terence Higgs has achieved one of his greatest dreams, of catching the Golden Snitch during the Quidditch World Cup – it looks like he might fall off his broom – tears are streaming down his face – a hugely popular win here in the Bola Voador Stadium – but hearty commiserations to Canada - they led almost all the way, but in the end, it was Higgs the Seeker who defeated them. A stunning display of sportsmanship here, as LeBlanc and Higgs embrace –

Rita Skeeter

--

Ah, that's better – people are calming down, I can now see the VIP boxes – well, Dumbledore's Army seems to approve of the victory, Harry Potter in particular seems emotional – with a determined grin on his face, Mrs Higgs is jumping up and down with her daughters who she is hugging at the same time – all the young Potter cousins are celebrating, even little Lily-Bali who is likely just trying to save face after her loss. The flock of Weasleys are all mingling, with their hair it looks like their waving a Canadian flag instead of Irelands – my colleague, Ginny Corner is approaching me, no doubt with another tedious correc-

Ginny Corner

--

Rita Skeeter has been taken unaccountably ill with what some are calling a jinx to the solar plexus. As celebrations continue here in the Patagonian Desert, we at the Daily Prophet sincerely hope that you have enjoyed our World Cup coverage from Graciosa Island. Next week, the National Gobstones League comes to Birmingham! But in all honesty…don’t bother.

Chapter 4 of Draco's First Year at Hogwarts :). I think I just added random things to fill in space too soooo that will be interesting. Some of the info might be wrong but I'm too lazy to proof-read it. Let's just hope years-ago-me got it right :))

_____________________________________

The Slytherin Common Room

They stood in front of a normal looking stone wall in the dungeon corridor.

“This fortnight’s password is Serpent-tongue,” Flint informed.

They nodded, watching the wall very closely.

“Who else is on the quidditch team?” Draco asked.

“Come off it, Malfoy, you won’t be on the team,” Theodore said.

Draco grunted. That would change one day.

Flint looked at the stone wall. “Serpent-tongue.”

A stone door in the wall which wasn’t visible till now slid open. The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them which was good because the atmosphere was cold, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs. There were tapestries which Draco presumed were previous Slytherins.

“Wow,” Goyle mumbled.

“What gives it the green lighting?” Blaise asked.

“It goes under the lake,” Marcus explained.

Some older Slytherins shoved past them and got comfortable in the Common Room.

Marcus showed them their dormitory where Draco, Nott, Goyle, Crabbe, and Blaise would be sleeping in. Theo dormitory was covered in Slytherin crests. There were silver lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The beds they were to sleep in were ancient four-posters with green silk hangings.

“This isn’t that bad,” Nott said as he dragged his hand on the silk hangings.

Crabbe and Goyle instantly called their own beds and jumped into it.

Flint laughed. “If you want to know the password for the fortnights, it’ll be pinned on the notice board in the common room.” He left the dormitory

Draco found his trunk had already been brought like the conductor said. He changed out of his robes into his pajamas.

“I suppose we should sleep?” Crabbe suggested.

Draco and Theodore sneered. “Not likely,” they said at the same time grinning

But it was too late, Crabbe was out cold, as was Goyle.

Blaise was just sitting on his bed. Scoffing at Crabbe and Goyle.

“Sorry about them,” Draco said. “They’re not very bright.”

Blaise just turned on his side and went to sleep.

“You don’t suppose we should…” Nott said, his voice trailing off.

“And here I thought you were like me, Nott,” he replied. “We can’t go to sleep yet. We need to know the right people to talk to.”

But Theodore just rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing Harry Potter and the Weasleys are off the list?”

“Most definitely Potter,” he sneered. “And that Mudblood Granger. We might as well just cross off all of Gryffindor. They accept Mudbloods and Blood Traitors.”

Nott yawned. “Can’t we do this tomorrow, Malfoy?”

Theodore laid down in his bed.

Draco guessed he was the only one really trying to make his father proud. If he didn’t, well he didn’t know what. Would his father make him punish himself as he made their house-elf Dobby do? He had seen Dobby put his ears in the oven door or bang his head against walls. Sometimes his father reminded him for extra beatings, and occasionally his father would beat Dobby, too.

Draco shuddered thinking about it. He actually cared about Dobby but he couldn’t let his father know. All he wanted was to be accepted by his father.

He let himself fall into a deep sleep.

“Malfoy, wake up!” Theodore shouted.

“Bloody hell! What do you want, Nott?” Draco snarled.

This wasn’t the first time Nott had woken him up, it was already Friday. Classes were easy for him since he already knew so much about the Wizarding World. Mudbloods and people like Potter would have to catch up.

So Draco, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise went to Potions after they got ready.

“Who do we have it with?” Blaise asked Nott.

“The…” Nott looked down to read. He let out a loud grunt. That couldn’t have been good. Hopefully not the Hufflepuffs. “Gryffindors.” Well, that was even worse.

“I heard Professor Snape favorites Slytherins,” Goyle mumbled quietly.

“Is that why Slytherin has won the house cup six years in a row?” Blaise scoffed. “We didn’t actually earn it? That’s rubbish, there’s no point in the cup then.” Blaise walked sulkily with them until they got to Potions.

Good thing because the classroom was in the dungeons too.

“Eughhh!” Draco said as he saw animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Right now would’ve been a good time to be at Durmstrang and not Hogwarts.

Snape, started the class by taking a roll call. He paused at Potter's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Draco and his friends sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black, they were cold and empty.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began.

He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. Mostly because the class was silent.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Draco looked around the room. The Mudblood, Granger, was about to fall out of her seat.

"Potter!" snapped Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Potter glanced at the Blood Traitor, who looked just as stumped as well; Granger’s hand had shot into the air.

Draco sneered at Granger, he had to be top in his class not some Mudblood.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut- fame clearly isn't everything," Snape muttered.

Draco had to hold in his laughter so Snape wouldn’t turn his attention towards him.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Granger stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go, but Potter didn't look like he knew anything.

Draco and his friends were shaking with laughter. The other Slytherins were right about Snape favoring them.

“I don’t know, sir,” Potter replied meekly.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Professor Snape questioned.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, the Mudblood stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

Draco snorted.

"I don't know," said Potter quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Granger nodded in agreement.

Draco couldn’t hold in his laughter any longer; it suddenly burst out and the rest of the Slytherins couldn’t keep it in either.

Snape turned towards them and they fell silent.

"Sit down," he snapped at the Mudblood. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Draco scribbled it down quickly while sniggering. Goyle poked him ever so often, demanding to look at his parchment to copy down.

Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Draco, himself, whom he seemed to like.

Draco made a snarky face at Potter.

Snape was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Draco had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon.

The dorky boy, Longbottom had somehow managed to melt the Half-blood, Finnigan’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Longbottom, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Draco laughed once more as Longbottom whimpered.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Finnigan. Then he rounded on Potter and Weasley, who had been working next to Longbottom. "You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Draco didn’t care how unfair this was to the Gryffindors and everyone else, he was loving it. While Crabbe and Goyle, Snape had disliked.

After the school day had finished, Draco went back to the Slytherin common room with Crabbe and Goyle.

“Anyone want to play a round of Wizard’s Chess with me?” Draco challenged. He could easily beat anyone.

“I will,” a female voice said.

Draco turned around. It was Pansy Parkinson.

“All right, Pansy.”

They sat down at a table and the board was already ready. To put it short and to not waste time, Draco won with no problem at all. He did it within minutes. Pansy was upset afterwards but shook hands with him and that seemed to make things better for her, weirdly.

Once again the week passed by quickly. Over the weekend, Draco and Blaise noticed there were flying lessons on Thursday but it was with Gryffindor.

“I suppose I’ll do anything to get on a broom. Father had just bought me one but I wasn’t allowed to bring it,” Draco said.

“I’ve played quidditch, it’s fun enough, I might try out for the team in a few years,” Blaise replied.

Until then, Draco kept on boasting about it to every first year and occasionally Marcus Flint and the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Thursday came and at breakfast, Draco’s eagle owl came with a package of sweets. He opened it gloating to other Slytherins.

Draco got up and brought Crabbe and Goyle with him to the Gryffindor table. He spotted something in Longbottom’s hand. He snatched it, it was Remembrall.

Potter and Weasley stood up immediately. Before a fight could break out, Professor McGonagall came to them in a flash as if she apparated there, but it wasn’t possible to apparate on Hogwarts ground.

"What's going on?” she demanded.

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," Longbottom tattled.

Scowling, Draco quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

“See there, Crabbe, Goyle? Gryffindor is nothing but a couple of snitches,” he snarled.

Around three, Theodore whispered to Draco, “The Gryffindors will be at the flying lesson around three-thirty, I heard them talking.”

“Then we’ll leave now,” he replied through gritted teeth. He beckoned Crabbe and Goyle.

When they arrived there were twenty broomsticks.

“These broomsticks are rubbish!” Blaise complained.

Draco looked down at them. They were nowhere near as good as what his father had bought him.

Nott was right, Potter and Weasley arrived at three-thirty with the other Gryffindors.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up. Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!’”

"UP!” everyone shouted.

Many struggled to do it but Draco got it instantly. It flew up straight into his right hand.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.

She came over to Draco and watched him. “That’s not right, Mr. Malfoy.”

“What?” Draco growled. “I’ve been doing it this way for years!”

Madam Hooch shrugged. “Then you’ve been doing it wrong for years.”

Draco turned pink. He hesitated to talk back.

She went back in front of the class.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"

Longbottom had been so jumpy that he already bursted into the air.

“Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Longbottom was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet.

Draco saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and - WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Longbottom lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Draco, Nott, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggered as Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

“Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get." She turned to the rest of the class.

“None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Longbottom hobbled off with Hooch.

Then, Draco burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Draco, darting forward and snatching the Remembrall out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Potter quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Draco smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"

“Give it here,” Potter yelled, but Draco had already hopped onto his broom. This would teach Potter a lesson. He launched himself from the ground and Draco flew up high in the air, and called, “Come and get it, Potter!”

Potter grabbed his broom and Draco grinned. “No!” shouted Granger. He sighed, the Mudblood would not get in the way of his plan. "Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all into trouble."

Draco rolled his eyes. Potter kicked up into the air. He stared at Potter in disbelief.

“Give it here, or I’ll knock you off that broom!” Potter called.

Draco sneered, a bit anxious that Potter could fly so well. “Oh, yeah?” he said in a half sneer.

Potter flew at him and Draco narrowly dodged.

“No Crabbe and Goyle to save your neck, Malfoy.”

Draco felt anger rise up in his chest. “Catch it if you can, then!” he shouted. He threw the glass ball toward the ground.

To Draco’s surprise, he made a steep dive to the ground and reached out his hand and caught the Remembrall.

“Ugh!” Draco growled in disbelief.

Just when he thought his fun was done there was a loud booming voice: “HARRY POTTER!” It was McGonagall.

Potter trembled as he got off the broom.

Draco made his way to the ground subtly without Professor McGonagall noticing.

"Never- in all my time at Hogwarts-" Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you - might have broken your neck-"

“It wasn't his fault, Professor-"

“Be quiet, Miss Patil

“But Malfoy-"

“That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Draco laughed. Potter had finally gotten what he deserved. Him and his friends triumphantly watched Potter follow Professor McGonagall.

“What’s your problem, Malfoy?” Weasley questioned.

Draco turned. He nodded his head towards Granger. “You and that filthy-“

But Finnigan interrupted Draco. “Don’t you dare say it!” he snarled.

Nott and Blaise laughed while Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him as backup.

“Say what? Mud-“

Once again he got interrupted. Madam Hooch had arrived again. “I’ll have to ask for you to go back to your common room. Madam Pomfrey wants no more injuries.” Her voice was bitter.

They went back to the dungeons. The downside was they couldn’t continue flying, but that didn’t matter. Potter was probably expelled or got detention for the rest of the year.

At dinner, Draco wasn’t prepared to see Potter happily telling students about how McGonagall had seemed to award him.

“Crabbe, Goyle, go listen to their conversation,” Draco ordered.

When they sat back down at the table, they were quiet.

“What happened?” Blaise demanded.

“Potter is the youngest quidditch player for Hogwarts in a century,” Crabbe mumbled. “And he’s the new Seeker.”

Draco turned very pink. “What?” he snarled. “In the century? He was supposed to be expelled!”

This was unfair, he was supposed to get punished but instead he had spent the afternoon with Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team learning about the sport.

“Well if I convince Flint to let me join the team, I would be Seeker as well and get the Snitch quicker than Potter could spot it!” he growled.

Draco got up hoping Crabbe and Goyle had just heard wrong. "Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Potter coolly.

Draco was smart enough to know they couldn’t get into a fight with Potter now or else that would land them both in detention. They simply just cracked their knuckles but Draco wouldn’t let them off so easily.

“I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Draco. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

“Of course he has," said Weasley, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Draco looked at Crabbe and Goyle, pretending to compare them in his mind.

“Crabbe,” he answered. “Midnight all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy room; that’s always unlocked.”

Draco smirked and bounded back to the Slytherin’s table.

“What did you do now, Malfoy?” Theodore asked.

“Challenged Potter to a wizard’s duel,” Goyle said.

“Are you kidding? Potter’s the only one who’s survived the Killing Curse and vanquished the Dark Lord,” Blaise whispered.

Draco snorted. “When he was a baby, there’s no way he could take down the Dark Lord.”

“Yet he did,” Blaise argued.

He sneered. There was obviously no way of convincing Blaise.

“Hey, Blaise,” began Nott. “We’ve been meaning to ask you, were your parents Death Eaters?”

Blaise fell silent and just stared at them. He finally answered. “No, my mother has been married seven times. Each one has died. She hasn’t got time for all that.” He glanced at them. He stared at Draco. “Your father was Lucius Malfoy, he wasn’t under any Imperius Curse, was he?”

Fear striked in Draco's eyes. His father had trusted him, did he just let one of their darkest secrets slip?

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell. My mum and I are with the Dark Lord, he had the right idea,” Blaise muttered.

Relief flooded Draco. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied indignantly.

Blaise rolled his eyes. “What about you three?” He looked pointedly at Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle. They sat there silently.

“Then you must all have parents who work together.”

Blaise smirked as they all showed blank faces.

“Malfoy,” Theodore said, “shouldn’t you be preparing for your duel tonight?”

Draco snorted. “I know more than both Potter and Weasley combined. Besides, I’m not actually fighting a Half-blood and Blood Traitor.” That would be an absolute waste of time.

(Thank you everyone who has read my stories, whether you are a new reader or have been with me from the start, you are unbelievably appreciated. Now you may have some questions after this epilogue and I'll be happy to answer them, but just note I am compiling all my notes for this series which I'll post [along with Potter family tree in relation to my fic] sometime later this week that will start with what happened between the Battle of Hogwarts and this epilogue. Thank you all again so much.)

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

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003840013

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003841380

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842029

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842653

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003843726

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844089

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844089/r/4400000000017564493

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844352

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844924

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003845391

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003845905

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003846382

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003846656

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003846902

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003847038

Tags:

@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972 @Mega.mind.harry.potter

Epilogue: Nineteen Years Later

Autumn was taking its time to arrive that year. The morning of the first of September was warm and as golden as fall leaves, with only a hint of the soon to arrive cold, and as the little family bobbed across the rumbling road towards the great sooty station, they tried to enjoy their last couple moments of summer holiday. Two large cages rattled on top of the laden trolleys the parents were pushing; the owls inside them hooted indignantly, and the little brunette girl trailed tearfully behind her brothers, clutching her father’s arm.

‘It won’t be long now, and you’ll be going too,’ Harry told her.

‘Two years,’ sniffed Lily-Balance. ‘I really want to go this year!’

The commuters stared curiously at the owls as the family wove its way towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Dobby’s voice drifted back to Harry over the surrounding clamor; his sons had resumed the argument they had started back at home.

‘I don’t want to be Sorted into Slytherin! I want to be a Gryffindor, with Sirius and Roxanne!’

‘Sirius, please stop making your brother worry!’ said Allison in the tone she had perfected for temporary stopping her and Harry’s kids. ‘And Dobby, there is nothing wrong with Slytherin, your father and I were both from that House.’

‘But Sirius says you guys got lucky, you found each other, and uncle Theo, and auntie Tracey, what if I’m Sorted there and I have no one?’

‘One it’s Professor Higgs now while you’re at school,’ Allison said to her middle child before turning to her eldest, ‘and you, why would you tell him that?’

Sirius shrugged, ‘Because it could happen. He could en—‘

But Sirius caught his mother’s eye and fell silent. The five Potters approached the barrier. With a slightly cocky look over his shoulder at his younger brother, Sirius took the trolley from his mother and broke into a run. A moment later, he had vanished.

‘You’ll send me owls, right?’ Dobby asked his parents immediately, capitalizing on the momentary absence of his brother.

‘We’ll write one every day if you’d like,’ said Allison.

‘Er, not every day,’ said Dobby quickly. ‘Sirius told me that most kids only get an owl or two a month.’

‘I spoke to my parents every chance I got while I was at Hogwarts, and we have been writing Sirius three times a week whenever he’s at Hogwarts,’ said Harry with a chuckle. ‘Don’t believe everything your brother tells you at face value. He’s a trickster, like his namesake.’

Dobby and his mother proceeded to push the second trolley forward, gathering speed. As they reached the barrier, Dobby winced, but no collision came. Instead, the family emerged onto platform nine and three-quarters, which was obscured by thick white steam which was pouring from the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Indistinct figures were swarming through the mist, into which Sirius had already disappeared.

‘Where are the others?’ asked Dobby anxiously, peering at the hazy forms they passed as they made their way down the platform.

‘We’ll spot them eventually, don’t you worry,’ said Allison reassuringly.

But the vapour was dense, and it was difficult to make out anybody’s faces. Detached from their owners, voices sounded unnaturally loud. Harry thought he heard Percy Weasley discoursing loudly on broomstick regulations, and was quite glad of the excuse not to stop and say hello…

‘I believe they’re over there, Dobs,’ said Allison suddenly.

A group of five people emerged from the mist, standing alongside the very last carriage. Their faces only came into focus when Harry, Allison, Lily-Balance, and Dobby had drawn right up beside them.

‘Hey,’ said Dobby, sounding immensely relieved.

Wendelin and Teagan were already wearing their brand new Hogwarts robes, but the eldest triplet, Aemilia, was still in her favourite black satin dress. She looked like a little doppelgänger of her mother, with the exception of her father’s greenish-blue eyes. When she spotted Dobby her eyes lit up and she came over to greet him.

‘How ya, you two?’ Terence asked the two Potter parents as they entered ear range. ‘Got here alright?’

‘Took a muggle taxi from Charing Cross road for Dobs, like my folks did for my first year,’ said Harry happily, shaking his old friend’s hand. ‘And we’re good.’

‘We’re better than good, you’re lucky you jumped to the Irish National team Higgs, because I whipped the Kenmare Kestrels sorry behind in the last match,’ teased Allison.

‘Yeah, they just haven’t been the same since they lost me as their captain,’ said Terence in a jokingly disappointed tone, ‘but speaking of national teams, I hear England’s Beater Indira Choudry is at last retiring. Have you considered moving up?’

‘Nah, I’m thinking of finally slowing down just a pinch. I plan to play for the Tutshill Tornados a couple more seasons, then Beau here will put in a good word for me at the Auror office.’

‘So we’ll both be going down new paths, how exciting Alli,’ said Tracey, herself wearing brand new robes for her return to Hogwarts.

‘I still can’t believe Professor Flitwick postponed his retirement a couple years just for you,’ said Harry. ‘He’s ancient!’

‘Filius was understanding that I wanted to stay with the girls until they were Hogwarts aged, but yes I bet he’s happy to be resting his feet today instead of getting rea—‘

‘Mam, you aren’t really going to be riding with us for our first train ride, are you?’ asked Teagan, a little nervous.

‘Well of course, it’s my first ride in twenty years too,’ said Tracey simply.

‘No, Mam, please. That’s so embarrassing!’ said her identical sister Wendelin. Her and Teagan’s hazel eyes were wide with apprehension.

Tracey let out a laugh, ‘I was just joking. I’ll floo over to Hogsmeade in a couple hours.’

‘Oh, maybe you could say hi to my folks,’ said a new voice, and they all turned to see the last four kin arrive.

‘Oh Terry, Theodore, glad you made it,’ said Allison as she hugged her second cousin.

‘Sorry we’re late, I’m this close to a breakthrough so I stayed up and ended up over sleeping,’ said Theodore, who Harry knew had been spending many hours in recent weeks at St. Mungo’s Alchemy Room trying to create a better Wolfsbane Potion he had plans to call The Remus Dreamus. ‘But no amount of sleep deprivation would keep me from missing little Colin’s first day, or from seeing all of you.’

It had taken Theodore many years to recover from the loss of his first love, but at the five year reunion for the class of ninety-eight Allison reintroduced her cousin to him and they ended up hitting it off. Then eleven years ago when they had their first son, Theodore went to Dennis Creevey to ask permission to honour Colin’s memory and name, and he happily said yes. Not that this Colin resembled his namesake much, tall for an eleven year old, darker brown hair, and ocean blue eyes.

‘Is Dora here?’ said the little voice of Theodore and Terry’s youngest, Jason.

‘No, sorry, but Lily-Bali is,’ said Harry to the little boy. He had become quite close with Canini’s adopted daughter, but being five years old with no other siblings, her mother didn’t really have a strong enough excuse to attend today’s drop off.

A few minutes later, back on the platform, they found Lily-Balance and Jason having an animated discussion about which House they would be sorted into when they finally went to Hogwarts.

‘I bet the Hat will say “Ba, this isn’t a Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff, but a little Beauxbaton girl! What are you doing here?”’

‘Theo!’ said Harry, but he was suppressing a laugh.

‘I love being an uncle,’ Theodore grinned.

Before Harry could say anything else, Terence had gestured to a spot about fifty yards away.

‘Look, the old Slytherin Quidditch team is nearly all together again.’

Harry looked in the same direction as his old friend, the steam had thinned for a moment, and three people stood in sharp relief against the shifting mist.

Draco Malfoy was standing there with his wife Astoria and their son, a dark coat buttoned up to his throat. His curse had begun to take a minor toll on his looks as Draco’s hair was receding somewhat, which emphasized the pointed chin. The new boy resembled Draco as much as Dobby resembled Harry. Draco caught sight of Harry, and the others staring at him, nodded curtly, and turned away again.

‘I guess that is young Scorpius,’ said Allison with a smile, ‘Dobby, make sure you’re better at him in everything.’

‘I know you are joking, but let’s be honest that it is Colin who will be beating them both,’ said Theodore while laughing. ‘In all seriousness, Draco has been donating a lot of gold for my research into Remus Dreamus, and he also did the same for my preventative Lycanthropy bite treatment potion, and unlike most large donors he wanted to be anonymous.’

‘Hey, he can be a humble philanthropist and still be the jerk we knew from school,’ said Tracey.

‘Be careful Professor Higgs, I don’t think Hogwarts likes its teachers using language like that,’ teased Terence.

‘Hey guys!’

Sirius had reappeared; he had divested himself of his trunk, owl, and trolley, and was evidently bursting with news.

‘I saw Teddy back there,’ he said breathlessly, pointing back over his shoulder into the billowing clouds of steam. ‘Right over there! And he’s snogging Victoire!’

He gazed up at the adults, evidently disappointed by the lack of reaction.

‘You’re sure it’s our Teddy? Teddy Karasu-Tonks? With Bill and Fleur’s oldest girl?’ asked Harry, his godson had mentioned for a while that he had a girlfriend, but Harry had not known it was the daughter of a friend.

‘Yes! And so I went over to him and asked why h—‘

‘You interrupted them while they were snogging?’ said Allison, befuddled by her eldest.

‘—he was here, and he said he had come to see her off! That’s when he told be to bugger off! They’re snogging!’ Sirius added as though worried he had not made himself clear.

‘If Teddy marries Louis’ older sister, would that mean he’d come over less?’ whispered Lily-Balance, sounding a little nervous.

‘I don’t think so Lily-Bali, he already comes round for dinner about four times a week,’ said Harry, he then added sarcastically, ‘In fact at this point why don’t we just invite him to live with us and have done with it?’

‘Yeah!’ said Sirius enthusiastically. ‘I could move in and share a room with Dobs—Teddy could then have my room!’

‘No,’ said Harry firmly, ‘you and Dobby will share a room only when I want the house demolished.’

He checked the now over forty year old gold and silver watch which had once been Harry’s godfather’s.

‘It’s nearly eleven, you’d better get on board.’

‘Oh, and don’t forget to give Neville our love when you arrive!’ Allison told Sirius as she hugged him goodbye.

‘What, Mum, no! I can’t give a professor love!’

‘But you know Neville—!’

Sirius rolled his eyes.

‘I do during holidays, but while I’m at school he’s just Professor Longbottom. I can’t go into the Herbology greenhouses and give him love…’

Shaking his head at his mother’s foolishness, he vented his feelings by aiming a kick at Dobby. ‘See you in a few hours, Dobs. Be mindful of the thestrals.’

‘But aren’t they invisible? I thought you said they were invisible!’ But Sirius merely laughed, permitted his mother to kiss him, gave his father a fleeting hug, then leapt onto the rapidly filling train. They saw him wave, then sprint away up the corridor to find his friends.

‘Thestrals are nothing to worry about,’ Harry told Dobby. ‘They’re gentle things, there’s nothing scary about them. Anyway, you won’t be going up to school in the carriages, you’ll be going in the boats.’

Allison kissed Dobby good-bye, ‘See you at Christmas.’

‘Bye, Dobs,’ said Harry as his son hugged him. ‘Don’t forget Hagrid’s invited you to tea next Friday. Don’t mess with Peeves. Don’t duel anyone till you’ve learned how. And don’t let Sirius wind you up.’

‘But what if I do end up in Slytherin?’

The whisper was for his father alone, and Harry knew that only the moment of departure could have forced Dobby to reveal how great and sincere that insecurity was.

Harry crouched down so that Dobby’s face was slightly above his own. Alone of Harry’s three children, Dobby had inherited Lily’s eyes.

‘Dobby James Potter,’ Harry said quietly, so that nobody but Allison could hear, and she was tactful enough to pretend to be waving to Colin and the triplets, who was now on the train, ‘being a Slytherin is what you make it to be, you can fall into peer pressure, or strive to be something greater. Two Hogwarts headmasters helped me become who I am today and the bravest of the two was a Slytherin.‘

‘But what if—‘

‘—then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, and you’ll make lots of friends both in and outside your House. It doesn’t matter to us, Dobs, where you end up. But if it matters to you, I want you to know that deep down I had chosen to be a Slytherin, so if you want to be apart of a different House you can certainly choose that too. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, the other headmaster who was very wise let me in on that little secret,’ said Harry.

He had never told any of his children the true story of his sorting before, and he saw the wonder in Dobby’s face when he said it. But now the doors were slamming all along the scarlet train, and the blurred outlines of parents were swarming forward for final kisses, last-minute reminders. Dobby jumped into the carriage and Allison closed the door behind him. Students were hanging from the windows nearest them. A great number of faces, both on the train and off, seemed to be turned towards Harry.

‘Who are they all staring at?’ demanded Dobby as he, Aemilia, and Colin craned around to look at the other students.

‘Oh, just this internationally recognized Quidditch player right here,’ said Terence jokingly.

‘Don’t listen to him, Dobs, I’m the famous one around here,’ said Allison.

Dobby, Aemilia, Colin, and Lily-Balance laughed.

The train began to move, and Harry walked alongside it, watching his son’s round face, already ablaze with excitement. Harry kept smiling and waving, even though it was like a little bereavement, watching his son glide away from him...

The last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air. The train rounded a corner. Harry’s hand was still raised in farewell.

‘He will be okay,’ murmured Allison.

As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead.

‘I know he will.’

The scar had not pained Harry for over nineteen years. All was well.

(Like canon there will be an epilogue chapter after this, and I will post it later today...so close to the end!!!😄)

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

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003840013

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003841380

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842029

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842653

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003843726

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844089

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844089/r/4400000000017564493

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844352

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844924

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003845391

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003845905

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003846382

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003846656

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003846902

Tags:

@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972 @Mega.mind.harry.potter

Chapter Thirty-Five: An Ending is Just a New Beginning

He was lying facedown on the ground again. The smell of the forest filled his nostrils. He could feel the cold hard ground beneath his cheek, and the hinge of his glasses, which had been knocked sideways by the fall, cutting into his temple. Every inch of him ached, and the place where the Killing Curse had hit him felt like the bruise of an iron-clad punch. He did not stir but remained exactly where he had fallen, with his left arm bent out at an awkward angle and his mouth gaping.

He had expected to hear cheers of triumph and jubilation at his death, but instead hurried footsteps, whispers, and solicitous murmurs filled the air.

‘My Lord...my Lord...’

It was Bellatrix’s voice, and she spoke as if to a lover. Harry did not dare open his eyes, but allowed his other senses to explore his predicament. He knew that his wand was still stowed beneath his robes because he could feel it pressed between his chest and the ground. A slight cushioning effect in the area of his stomach told him that the Invisibility Cloak was also there, stuffed out of sight. ‘My Lord...’

‘That will do,’ said Voldemort’s voice.

More footsteps. Several people were backing away from the same spot. Desperate to see what was happening and why, Harry opened his eyes by a millimeter.

Voldemort seemed to be getting to his feet. Various Death Eaters were hurrying away from him, returning to the crowd lining the clearing. Bellatrix alone remained behind, kneeling beside Voldemort.

Harry closed his eyes again and considered what he had seen. The Death Eaters had been huddled around Voldemort, who seemed to have fallen to the ground.

Something had happened when he had hit Harry with the Killing Curse. Had Voldemort too collapsed? It seemed like it. And both of them had fallen briefly unconscious and both of them had now returned…

‘My Lord, let me—‘

‘I do not require assistance,’ said Voldemort coldly, and though he could not see it, Harry pictured Bellatrix withdrawing a helpful hand. ‘The boy…Is he dead?’

There was complete silence in the clearing. Nobody approached Harry, but he felt their concentrated gaze; it seemed to press him harder into the ground, and he was terrified a finger or an eyelid might twitch.

‘You,’ said Voldemort, and there was a bang and a small shriek of pain. ‘Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead.’

Harry did not know who had been sent to verify. He could only lie there, with his heart thumping traitorously, and wait to be examined, but at the same time noting, small comfort though it was, that Voldemort was wary of approaching him, that Voldemort suspected that all had not gone to plan…

Hands, softer than he had been expecting, touched Harry’s face, pulled back an eyelid, crept beneath his shirt, down to his chest, and felt his heart. He could hear the woman’s fast breathing, her long hair tickled his face. He knew that she could feel the steady pounding of life against his ribs.

‘Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?’

The whisper was barely audible; her lips were an inch from his ear, her head bent so low that her long hair shielded his face from the onlookers.

‘Yes,’ he breathed back.

He felt the hand on his chest contract; her nails pierced him. Then it was withdrawn. She had sat up.

‘He is dead!’ Narcissa Malfoy called to the watchers.

And now they shouted, now they yelled in triumph and stamped their feet, and through his eyelids, Harry saw bursts of red and silver light shoot into the air in celebration.

Still feigning death on the ground, he understood. Narcissa knew that the only way she would be permitted to enter Hogwarts, and find her son, was as part of the conquering army. She no longer cared whether Voldemort won.

‘You see?’ screeched Voldemort over the tumult. ‘Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!’

Harry had been expecting it, knew his body would not be allowed to remain unsullied upon the forest floor; it must be subjected to humiliation to prove Voldemort’s victory. He was lifted into the air, and it took all his determination to remain limp, yet the pain he expected did not come. He was thrown once, twice, three times into the air: His glasses flew off and he felt his wand slide a little beneath his robes, but he kept himself floppy and lifeless, and when he fell to the ground for the last time, the clearing echoed with jeers and shrieks of laughter.

‘Now,’ said Voldemort, ‘we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No—Wait—‘

There was a fresh outbreak of laughter, and after a few moment Harry felt the ground trembling beneath him.

‘You carry him,’ Voldemort said. ‘He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your little friend, Hagrid. And the glasses—put on the glasses—he must be recognizable—‘

Someone slammed Harry’s glasses onto his face with deliberate force, but the enormous hands that lifted him into the air were exceedingly gentle. Harry could feel Hagrid’s arms trembling with the force of his heaving sobs; great tears splashed down upon him as Hagrid cradled Harry in his arms, and Harry did not dare, by movement or word, to intimate to Hagrid that all was not, yet, lost.

‘Move,’ said Voldemort, and Hagrid stumbled forward, forcing his way through the close-growing trees, back through the forest. Branches caught at Harry’s hair and robes, but he lay quiescent, his mouth lolling open, his eyes shut, and in the darkness, while the Death Eaters crowed all around them, and while Hagrid sobbed blindly, nobody looked to see whether a pulse beat in the exposed neck of Harry Potter…

The two giants crashed along behind the Death Eaters; Harry could hear trees creaking and falling as they passed; they made so much noise that birds rose shrieking into the sky, and even the jeers of the Death Eaters were drowned. The victorious procession marched on toward the open ground, and after a while Harry could tell, by the lightening of the darkness through his closed eyelids, that the trees were beginning to thin.

‘BANE!’

Hagrid’s unexpected bellow nearly forced Harry’s eyes open. ‘Happy now, are yeh, that yeh didn’ fight, yeh cowardly bunch o’ nags? Are yeh happy Harry Potter’s—d–dead..?’

Hagrid could not continue, but broke down in fresh tears. Harry wondered how many centaurs were watching their procession pass; he dared not open his eyes to look. Some of the Death Eaters called insults at the centaurs as they left them behind. A little later, Harry sensed, by the freshening of the air, that they had reached the edge of the forest.

‘Stop.’

Harry thought that Hagrid must have been forced to obey Voldemort’s command, because he lurched a little. And now a chill settled over them where they stood, and Harry heard the rasping breath of the dementors that patrolled the outer trees. They would not affect him now. The fact of his own survival burned inside him, a talisman against them, as though his father’s stag kept guardian in his heart.

Someone passed close by Harry, and he knew that it was Voldemort himself because he spoke a moment later, his voice magically magnified so that it swelled through the grounds, crashing upon Harry’s eardrums.

‘Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anybody who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.’

There was silence in the grounds and from the castle. Voldemort was so close to him that Harry did not dare open his eyes yet.

‘Come,’ said Voldemort, and Harry heard him move ahead, and Hagrid was forced to follow. Now Harry opened his eyes a fraction, and saw Voldemort striding in front of them, wearing the great snake Nagini around his shoulders, now free of her enchanted cage. But Harry had no possibility of extracting the wand concealed under his robes without being noticed by the Death Eaters, who marched on either side of them through the slowly lightening darkness…

‘Harry,’ sobbed Hagrid. ‘Oh, Harry…Harry…’

Harry shut his eyes tight again. He knew that they were approaching the castle and strained his ears to distinguish, above the gleeful voices of the Death Eaters and their tramping footsteps, signs of life from those within.

‘Stop.’

The Death Eaters came to a halt; Harry heard them spreading out in a line facing the open front doors of the school. He could see, even through his closed lids, the reddish glow that meant light streamed upon him from the entrance hall. He waited. Any moment, the people for whom he had tried to die for would see him, lying apparently dead, in Hagrid’s arms.

‘NO!’

The scream was more terrible because he had never expected or dreamed that Professor McGonagall could make such a sound. He heard another woman laughing nearby, and knew that Bellatrix gloried in McGonagall’s despair. He squinted again for a single second and saw the open doorway filling with people, as the survivors of the battle came out onto the front steps to face their vanquishers and see the truth of Harry’s death for themselves. He saw Voldemort standing a little in front of him, stroking Nagini’s head with a single white finger. He closed his eyes again.

‘No!’

‘No!’

‘NO! HARRY! NO!’

Canini’s, Theodore’s, Tracey’s, and Allison’s voices were worse than McGonagall’s; Harry wanted nothing more than to call back, yet he made himself lie silent, and their cries acted like a trigger; the crowd of survivors took up the cause, screaming and yelling abuse at the Death Eaters, until—

‘SILENCE!’ cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. ‘It’s over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!’

Harry felt himself lowered onto the grass.

‘You see?’ said Voldemort, and Harry felt him striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. ‘Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!’

‘He won, not you!’ yelled Theodore, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.

‘Silence you treacherous boy!’ said the ice cold voice of Morgan Nott. ‘You will get what’s coming to you in due time.’

‘Harry Potter was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds,’ said Voldemort, and there was relish in his voice for the lie, ‘killed while trying to save himself—‘

But Voldemort broke off: Harry heard a scuffle and a shout, then another bang, a flash of light, and a grunt of pain; he opened his eyes an infinitesimal amount. Someone had broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort: Harry saw the figure hit the ground, Disarmed, Voldemort throwing the challenger’s wand aside and laughing.

‘And who is this?’ he said in his soft snake’s hiss. ‘Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?’

Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh.

‘It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?’

‘Ah, yes, I remember,’ said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man’s-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. ‘But you are a Pure-blood, aren’t you, my brave boy?’ Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled into fists.

‘So what if I am?’ said Neville loudly.

‘You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.’

‘I’ll join you when hell freezes over,’ said Neville. ‘Dumbledore’s Army!’ he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort’s Silencing Charms seemed unable to hold.

‘Very well,’ said Voldemort, and Harry heard more danger in the silkiness of his voice than in the most powerful curse. ‘If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head,’ he said quietly, ‘be it.’

Still watching through his lashes, Harry saw Voldemort wave his wand. Seconds later, out of one of the castle’s shattered windows, something that looked like a misshapen bird flew through the half light and landed in Voldemort’s hand. He shook the mildewed object by its pointed end and it dangled, empty and ragged: the Sorting Hat.

‘There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School,’ said Voldemort. ‘There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won’t they, Neville Longbottom?’

He pointed his wand at Neville, who grew rigid and still, then forced the hat onto Neville’s head, so that it slipped down below his eyes. There were movements from the watching crowd in front of the castle, and as one, the Death Eaters raised their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.

‘Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me,’ said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.

Screams split the dawn, and Neville was aflame, rooted to the spot, unable to move, and Harry could not bear it: He must act—

And then many things happened at the same moment.

They heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, ‘HAGGER!’

His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort’s giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants, making the earth quake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise. Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak from inside his robes, swung it over himself, and sprang to his feet, as Neville moved too.

In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon him; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle—

The slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke Neville sliced off the great snake’s head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and Voldemort’s mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and the snake’s body thudded to the ground at his feet—

Hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry cast a Shield Charm between Neville and Voldemort before the latter could raise his wand. Then, over the screams and the roars and the thunderous stamps of the battling giants, Hagrid’s yell came loudest of all, ‘HARRY!’ Hagrid shouted. ‘HARRY—WHERE’S HARRY?’

Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was fleeing the giants’ stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where; Harry saw great winged creatures soaring around the heads of Voldemort’s giants, thestrals and Buckbeak the hippogriff scratching at their eyes while Grawp punched and pummeled them, and now the wizards, defenders of Hogwarts and Death Eaters alike, were being forced back into the castle. Harry was shouting jinxes and curses at any Death Eater he could see, and they crumpled, not knowing what or who had hit them, and their bodies were trampled by the retreating crowd.

Still hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry was buffeted into the entrance hall: He was searching for Voldemort and saw him across the room, firing spells from his wand as he backed into the Great hall, still screaming instructions to his followers as he sent curses flying left and right; Harry cast more Shield Charms, and Voldemort’s would-be victims, Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbott, darted past him into the Great Hall, where they joined the fight already flourishing inside it.

And now there were more, even more people storming up the front steps, and Harry saw Charlie Weasley overtaking Horace Slughorn, who was still wearing his emerald pajamas. They seemed to have returned at the head of what looked like the families and friends of every Hogwarts student who had remained to fight, along with the shopkeepers and homeowners of Hogsmeade. The centaurs Bane, Ronan, and Magorian burst into the hall with a great clatter of hooves, as behind Harry the door that led to the kitchens was blasted off its hinges.

The house-elves of Hogwarts swarmed into the entrance hall, screaming and waving carving knives and cleavers, and at their head, the locket of Regulus Black bouncing on his chest, was Kreacher, his bullfrog’s voice audible even above this din: ‘Fight! Fight! Fight for my Master, defender of the house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!’

They were hacking and stabbing at the ankles and shins of Death Eaters, their tiny faces alive with malice, and everywhere Harry looked Death Eaters were folding under sheer weight of numbers, overcome by spells, dragging arrows from wounds, stabbed in the leg by elves, or else simply attempting to escape, but swallowed by the oncoming horde.

But it was not over yet: Harry sped between duelers, past struggling prisoners, and into the Great Hall.

Voldemort was in the center of the battle, and he was striking and smiting all within reach. Harry could not get a clear shot, but fought his way nearer, still invisible, and the Great Hall became more and more crowded as everyone who could walk forced their way inside.

Harry saw Yaxley slammed to the floor by George and Lee Jordan, saw Dolohov fall with a scream at Tracey’s hands, saw Walden Macnair thrown across the room by Hagrid, hit the stone wall opposite, and slide unconscious to the ground. He saw Canini, Theodore, and Neville bringing down Morgan Nott, Aberforth Stunning Rookwood, Arthur and Percy flooring Thicknesse, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy running through the crowd, not even attempting to fight, screaming for their son.

Voldemort was now dueling McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once, and there was cold hatred in his face as they wove and ducked around him, unable to finish him—

Bellatrix was still fighting too, fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master she dueled three at once: Allison, Ginny, and Luna, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them, and Harry’s attention was diverted as a Killing Curse shot past the heads of both Allison and Ginny that missed both by an inch—

He changed course, running at Bellatrix rather than Voldemort, but before he had gone a few steps he was knocked sideways.

‘NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!’

Mrs Weasley threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms. Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of her new challenger.

‘OUT OF MY WAY!’ shouted Mrs Weasley to the three girls, and with a swipe of her wand she began to duel. Harry watched with terror and elation as Molly Weasley’s wand slashed and twisted, and Bellatrix Lestrange’s smile faltered and became a snarl. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches’ feet became hot and cracked; both women were fighting to kill.

‘No!’ Mrs Weasley cried to Allison as she ran forward, trying to come to her aid. ‘Get back! Get back! She is mine!’

Hundreds of people now lined the walls, watching the two fights, Voldemort and his three opponents, Bellatrix and Molly, and Harry stood, invisible, torn between both, wanting to attack and yet to protect, unable to be sure that he would not hit the innocent.

‘What will happen to your children when I’ve killed you?’ taunted Bellatrix, as mad as her master, capering as Molly’s curses danced around her. ‘When Mummy’s gone the same way as Freddie?’

‘You—will—never—touch—our—children—again!’ screamed Mrs Weasley.

Bellatrix laughed, the same exhilarated laugh her cousin Sirius had given as he toppled backward through the veil, and suddenly Harry knew what was going to happen before it did.

Molly’s curse soared beneath Bellatrix’s outstretched arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart.

Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes began to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

Harry felt as though he turned in slow motion; he saw McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn blasted backward, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort’s fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb. Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley.

‘Protego!’ roared Harry, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak at last.

The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of ‘Harry!’ ‘HE’S ALIVE!’ were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other.

‘I don’t want anyone else to try to help!’ Harry said loudly, and in the total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. ‘It’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me.’

Voldemort hissed.

‘Potter doesn’t mean that,’ he said, his red eyes wide. ‘That isn’t how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?’

‘Nobody,’ said Harry simply. ‘There are no more Horcruxes. It’s just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good...’

‘One of us?’ jeered Voldemort, and his whole body was taunt and his red eyes stared, a snake that was about to strike. ‘You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?’

‘Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?’ asked Harry. They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other, and for Harry no face existed but Voldemort’s. ‘Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn’t defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?’

‘Accidents!’ screamed Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and the watching crowd was frozen as if petrified, and of the hundreds in the Hall, nobody seemed to breathe but they two. ‘Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!’

‘You won’t be killing anyone else tonight,’ said Harry as they circled, and stared into each other’s eyes, green into red. ‘You won’t be able to kill any of them ever again. Don’t you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people—‘

‘But you did not!’

‘—I meant to, and that’s what it did. I’ve done what my mother did. They’re protected from you. Haven’t you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can’t torture them. You can’t touch them. You don’t learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?’

‘You dare—‘

‘Yes, I dare,’ said Harry. ‘I know things you don’t know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don’t. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?’

Voldemort did not speak, but prowled in a circle, and Harry knew that he kept him temporarily mesmerized and at bay, held back by the faintest possibility that Harry might indeed know a final secret…

‘Is it love again?’ said Voldemort, his snake’s face jeering. ‘Dumbledore’s favorite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter—and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you from dying now when I strike?’

‘Just one thing,’ said Harry, and still they circled each other, wrapped in each other, held apart by nothing but the last secret.

‘If it is not love that will save you this time,’ said Voldemort, ‘you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?’

‘I believe both,’ said Harry, and he saw shock flit across the snakelike face, though it was instantly dispelled; Voldemort began to laugh, and the sound was more frightening than his screams; humorless and insane, it echoed around the silent Hall.

‘You think you know more magic than I do?’ he said. ‘Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?’

‘Oh, he dreamed of it,’ said Harry, ‘but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you’ve done.’

‘You mean he was weak!’ screamed Voldemort. ‘Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!’

‘No, he was cleverer than you,’ said Harry, ‘a better wizard, a better man.’

‘I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!’

‘You thought you did,’ said Harry, ‘but you were wrong.’

For the first time, the watching crowd stirred as the hundreds of people around the walls drew breath as one.

‘Dumbledore is dead!’ Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as though they would cause him unendurable pain. ‘His body decays in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle. I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!’

‘Yes, Dumbledore’s dead,’ said Harry calmly, ‘but you didn’t have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant.’

‘What childish dream is this?’ said Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and his red eyes did not waver from Harry’s.

‘Severus Snape wasn’t yours,’ said Harry. ‘Snape was Dumbledore’s. Dumbledore’s from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can’t understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?’

Voldemort did not answer. They continued to circle each other, like wolves about to tear each other apart.

‘Snape’s Patronus was a doe,’ said Harry, ‘the same as my mother’s, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized,’ he said as he saw Voldemort’s nostrils flare, ‘he asked you to spare her life, didn’t he?’

‘He desired her, that was all,’ sneered Voldemort, ‘but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him—‘

‘Of course he told you that,’ said Harry, ‘but he was Dumbledore’s spy from the moment you threatened her, and he’s been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!’

‘It matters not!’ shrieked Voldemort, who had followed every word with rapt attention, but now let out a cackle of mad laughter. ‘It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore’s, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape’s supposed great love! Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways that you do not understand! Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy—I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up, I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore’s last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!’

‘Yeah, it did,’ said Harry. ‘You’re right. But before you try to kill me, I’d advise you to think about what you’ve done…Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…’

‘What is this?’

Of all the things that Harry had said to him, beyond any revelation or taunt, nothing had shocked Voldemort like this. Harry saw his pupils contact to thin slits, saw the skin around his eyes whiten.

‘It’s your one last chance,’ said Harry, ‘it’s all you’ve got left…I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise...Be a man...try...Try for some remorse…’

‘You dare—?’ said Voldemort again.

‘Yes, I dare,’ said Harry, ‘because Dumbledore’s last plan hasn’t backfired on me at all. It’s backfired on you, Riddle.’

Voldemort’s hand was trembling on the Elder Wand, and Harry gripped Draco’s very tightly. The moment, he knew, was seconds away.

‘That wand still isn’t working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore.’

‘He killed—‘

‘Aren’t you listening? Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore’s death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand’s last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand’s power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!’

‘But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!’ Voldemort’s voice shook with malicious pleasure. ‘I stole the wand from its last master’s tomb! I removed it against its last master’s wishes! Its power is mine!’

‘You still don’t get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn’t enough! Holding it, using it, doesn’t make it really yours. Didn’t you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard…The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world’s most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance…

Voldemort’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and Harry could feel the curse coming, feel it building inside the wand pointed at his face.

‘The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy.’

Blank shock showed in Voldemort’s face for a moment, but then it was gone.

‘But what does it matter?’ he said softly. ‘Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone…and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…’

‘But you’re too late,’ said Harry. ‘You’ve missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him.’

Harry twitched the hawthorn wand, and he felt the eyes of everyone in the Hall upon it.

‘So it all comes down to this, doesn’t it?’ whispered Harry. ‘Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does…I am the true master of the Elder Wand.’

A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort’s was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high voice shriek as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing Draco’s wand:

‘Avada Kedavra!’

‘Expelliarmus!’

The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead center of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Harry saw Voldemort’s green jet meet his own spell, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last. And Harry, with the unerring skill of a Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hands, staring down at his enemy’s shell.

One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspend: and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, and the first to reach him were Allison, Canini, Theodore, and Tracey, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him. Then Terence, Neville, Luna, and Susan were there, and then all the Weasleys and Hagrid, and Kingsley and McGonagall and Flitwick and Spout, and Harry could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him, hundreds of them pressing in, all of them determined to touch the Boy Who Lived, the reason it was over at last—

The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light. Harry was an indispensable part of the mingled outpourings of jubilation and mourning, of grief and celebration. They wanted him there with them, their leader and symbol, their savior and their guide, and that he had not slept, that he craved the company of only a few of them, seemed to occur to no one.

He must speak to the bereaved, clap their hands, witness their tears, receive their thanks, hear the news now creeping in from every quarter as the morning drew on; that the Imperiused up and down the country had come back to themselves, that Death Eaters were fleeing or else being captured, that the innocent of Azkaban were being released at that very moment, and that Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named temporary Minister of Magic…

They moved Voldemort’s body and laid it in a chamber off the Hall, away from the bodies of Remus, Tonks, Fred, Colin Creevey, and fifty others who had died fighting him. McGonagall had replaced the House tables, but nobody was sitting according to House anymore: All were jumbled together, teachers and pupils, ghosts and parents, centaurs and house-elves, and Firenze lay recovering in a corner, and Grawp peered in through a smashed window, and people were through food into his laughing mouth. After a while, exhausted and drained, Harry found himself sitting on a bench beside Luna.

‘I’d want some peace and quiet, if it were me,’ she said.

‘I’d love some,’ he replied.

‘I’ll distract them all,’ she said. ‘Use your Cloak.’

And before he could say a word she cried, ‘Oooh, look, a Blibbering Humdinger!’ and pointed out of the window. Everyone who heard looked around, and Harry slid the Cloak up over himself, and got to his feet.

Now he could move through the Hall without interference. He spotted the Weasley’s two tables away; they were huddled together, crying and laughing, there would be time to talk to them later. He saw Neville, the sword of Gryffindor lying beside his plate as he ate, surrounded by a knot of fervent admirers. Along the aisle between the tables he walked, and he spotted the three Malfoys, huddled together as though unsure whether or not they were supposed to be there, but nobody was paying them any attention. Everywhere he looked he saw families reunited, and finally, he saw the four whose company he craved most.

‘It’s me,’ he muttered, crouching down beside them. ‘Will you come with me?’

‘I’ll be back soon, love,’ said Tracey to Terence while giving him a kiss on the cheek.

They stood up at once, and together he, Tracey, Allison, Theodore, and Canini left the Great Hall. Great chunks were missing from the marble staircase, part of the balustrade was gone, and rubble and bloodstains occurred every few steps as they climbed.

Somewhere in the distance they could hear Peeves zooming through the corridors singing a victory song of his own composition:

‘We did it, we bashed them,

wee Potter’s the one,

And Voldy’s gone moldy,

so now let’s have fun!’

‘Really takes the edge off the trauma, doesn’t it,’ said Theodore sarcastically, opening the door for the others.

Happiness would come, Harry thought, but at the moment it was muffled by exhaustion, and the pain of losing Remus, Tonks, Fred, and Colin pierced him like a physical wound every few steps. Most of all he felt the most stupendous relief, and a longing to sleep. But first he owed an explanation to those closest in his life, who had fought by his side for years while sharing his suffering, and who deserved the truth. When he was absolutely sure they were alone he turned to Canini first.

‘Remus was so proud of you, he always knew how much strength you had, and Tonks knew you were loyal and kind—‘

‘Harry—?‘ she began, but tears were welling in her eyes.

‘But most of all I want you to hear from my own lips how proud I, myself, am of you,’ said Harry to his sister before turning to Theodore. ‘Colin never left your side. He loved you dearly and knew how much you needed him.’

Theodore looked frozen like a statue, eventually he gave a little nod, but Harry could tell this death in particular was going to be with his brother for a long time.

‘But how do you know all this, Harry?’ asked Allison in deep curiosity.

Painstakingly he recounted what he had seen in the Pensieve and what had happened in the forest, and they had not even begun to express all their shock and amazement when at last they arrived at the place to which they had been walking, though none of them had mentioned their destination.

Since he had last seen it, the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster’s study had been knocked aside; it stood lopsided, looking a little punch-drunk, and Harry wondered whether it would be able to distinguish passwords anymore.

‘Can we go up?’ he asked the gargoyle.

‘Feel free,’ groaned the statue.

They clambered over him and onto the spiral stone staircase that moved slowly upward like an escalator. Harry pushed open the door at the top.

He had one, brief glimpse of the stone Pensieve on the desk where he had left it, and then an earsplitting noise made him cry out, thinking of curses and returning Death Eaters and the rebirth of Voldemort—

But it was applause. All around the walls, the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were giving him a standing ovation; they waved their hats and in some cases their wigs, they reached through their frames to grip each other’s hands; they danced up and down on the chairs in which they had been painted; Dilys Derwent sobbed unashamedly will sharing a portrait with Antonia Creaseworthy; Dexter Fortescue was waving his ear-trumpet; and Phineas Nigellus Black called, in his high, reedy voice, ‘And let it be noted that Slytherin House played its part! Spread the word that it was a Slytherin who defeated him!’

But Harry had eyes only for the man who stood in the largest portrait directly behind the headmaster’s chair. Tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled Harry with the same balm as phoenix song.

At last, Harry held up his hands, and the portraits fell respectfully silent, beaming and mopping their eyes and waiting eagerly for him to speak. He directed his words at Dumbledore, however, and chose them with enormous care. Exhausted and bleary-eyed though he was, he must make one last effort, seeking one last piece of advice.

‘The thing that was hidden in the Snitch,’ he began, ‘I dropped it in the forest. I don’t know exactly where, but I’m not going to go looking for it again. Do you agree?’

‘My dear boy, I do,’ said Dumbledore, while his fellow pictures looked confused and curious. ‘A wise and courageous decision, but no less than I would have expected of you. Does anyone else know where it fell?’

‘No one,’ said Harry, and Dumbledore nodded his satisfaction.

‘I’m going to keep Ignotus’ present, though,’ said Harry, and Dumbledore beamed.

‘But of course, Harry, it is yours forever, until you pass it on! That is if you and Miss Runcorn here plan on having kids of your own.’

‘One day,’ said Allison confidently, ‘but I’m going to be a star Quidditch player for a while first!’

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ said Harry beaming before turning back to the portrait of Dumbledore. ‘And then there’s this.’

Harry held up the Elder Wand, and the other four looked at it with a reverence that, even in his befuddled and sleep-deprived state, Harry did not like to see.

‘I don’t want it,’ said Harry.

‘What?’ said Tracey loudly. ‘Did dying make you crazy? Think of the magic you could do!’

‘I know it’s powerful,’ said Harry wearily, ‘but I was happier with mine. So...’

He rummaged in the pouch hung around his neck, and pulled out the two halves of holly still just connected by the finest thread of phoenix feather. Tracey and Mr Ollivander had said that they could not be repaired, that the damage was too severe. All he knew was that if this did not work, nothing would.

He laid the broken wand upon the headmaster’s desk, touch it with the very tip of the Elder Wand, and said ‘Reparo.’

As his wand resealed, red sparks flew out of its end. Harry knew that he had succeeded. He picked up the holly and phoenix wand and felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, as though wand and hand were rejoicing at their reunion. Before doing anything else, or before anyone could talk him out of it, Harry proceeded to snap the Elder Wand completely in half, it broke just like an ordinary dry twig.

‘Woah!’ spewed Canini, who had not expected that.

‘It would seem only the Elder Wand can repair broken wands, so with it destroyed beyond repair no one should be able to use it anymore,’ he told the group. Harry then once more faced the portrait of Dumbledore who was watching him with deep affection. ‘I’m putting the Elder Wand back where it came from. It will rest eternally with you.’

Dumbledore nodded. They smiled at each other.

‘I hope you’re right,’ said Tracey, who looked a little nervous.

‘I believe Harry’s making the right decision,’ said Theodore quietly.

‘That wand’s more trouble than it’s worth,’ said Harry. ‘And quite honestly,’ he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of making himself a sandwich in whatever remained of the kitchen and heading to the the four-poster bead lying waiting for him in Slytherin Dungeon, ‘I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.’

(And technically that is the last chapter, I can't wait for you all to see the epilogue.)

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

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003840013

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003841380

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842029

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842653

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003843726

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844089

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844089/r/4400000000017564493

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844352

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844924

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003845391

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003845905

Tags:

@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972 @Mega.mind.harry.potter

(I have now finished writing the book☺️). I am posting a chapter today, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday I’ll post both the final chapter and the epilogue. I am so excited for you all to see the ending I have been working towards for over four years now.)

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Prince’s Tale

Harry remained kneeling at Snape’s side, simply staring down at him, until quite suddenly a high, cold voice spoke so close to them that Harry jumped on his feet, the flask gripped tightly in his hands, thinking that Voldemort had re-entered the room.

Voldemort’s voice reverberated from the walls and floor, and Harry realized that he was talking to Hogwarts and to all the surrounding area, that the residents of Hogsmeade and all those still fighting in the castle would hear him as clearly as if he stood beside them, his breath on the back of their necks, a deathblow away.

‘You have fought,’ said the high, cold voice, ‘valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.’

Harry knew Voldemort was lying, he had just moments ago witnessed him say how he didn’t care how many died tonight. In fact he had said the more the better.

‘Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

‘I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.’

Tracey, Allison, and Theodore all shook their heads frantically, looking at Harry.

‘Don’t you dare do what he says,’ said Theodore.

‘There will be a way for us to succeed,’ said Tracey in false confidence.

‘We-we should get to the castle,’ said Allison, the only one to not directly say he shouldn’t go. ‘We need a new plan.’

The girls turned around to head back, but Theodore hung back for just an extra second where he glanced at Snape’s body. Theodore had viewed the man beneath him as a mentor, a role model, and then as a traitor, and Harry could see many conflicting feelings wash across his face before turning and hurrying back to the tunnel entrance with the girls. Harry gathered up the Invisibility Cloak, then looked down at Snape. He did not know what to feel, except shock at the way Snape had been killed, and the reason for which it had been done…

They crawled back through the tunnel, none of them talking, and Harry wondered whether the others could still hear Voldemort ringing in their heads as he could.

“You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest...One hour...”

Small bundles seemed to litter the lawn at the front of the castle. It could only be an hour or so from dawn, yet it was pitch-black. The four of them hurried toward the stone steps. A lone dog, the size of a small boat, lay abandoned in front of them. There was no other sign of Grawp or of his attacker.

The castle was unnaturally silent. There were no flashes of light now, no bangs or screams or shouts. The flagstones of the deserted entrance hall were stained with blood. Emeralds were still scattered all over the floor, along with pieces of marble and splintered wood. Part of the banisters had been blown away.

‘Where is everybody?’ whispered Tracey.

Allison led the way to the Great Hall. Harry stopped in the doorway.

The House tables were gone and the room was crowded. The survivors stood in groups, their arms around each other’s necks. The injured were being treated upon the raised platform by Madam Pomfrey, Chiara Lobosca, and a group of helpers. Firenze was amongst the injured; his flank poured blood and he shook where he lay, unable to stand.

The dead lay in a row in the middle of the Hall. Harry’s heart plummeted as he saw Fred lying amongst them, surrounded by all the Weasleys. George was kneeling at his head; Mrs Weasley was lying across Fred’s chest, her body shaking. Mr Weasley stroking her hair while tears cascaded down his cheeks.

Without a word, the four turned to the rest of the dead. Harry spotted Canini on her knees crying between the bodies of Remus and Tonks, pale and still and peaceful-looking, apparently asleep beneath the dark, enchanted ceiling. Harry had so desperately wanted to comfort his sister earlier, but now he felt numb and as though he couldn’t move. Thankfully she wasn’t completely alone, Susan Bones was hugging her, and as Harry stood rooted in the ground Tracey walked over to join Canini.

Harry suddenly was nearly deafened by a blood curtailing ‘NOOOO!’ from Theodore beside him and looks around to find Dean Thomas and Katie Bell carrying in the body of Colin Creevey.

Theodore attempted to run to his boyfriend’s side, yelling Colin’s name to the body that could no longer hear him, but Harry ran after him and wrapped his arms tightly around his foster brother. He held him still and began dragging him back as Theodore frantically told him to let go. Harry was forced into a memory from two years ago where Remus had done the same for him immediately after Sirius had died, he had hated him at the time, but it was now, as Remus lay still not far away and Harry was doing the same for Theodore, that he finally understood the action his adoptive father had taken. After what felt like an eternity Theodore’s energy gave out and he slumped to his knees.

As gently as putting a baby down for bed, Dean Thomas and Katie Bell lay Colin in front of Theodore and Harry. Even though Colin had grown to become nearly as tall as Harry, he was tiny in death. Sobbing, Theodore ran his fingers through his boyfriend’s mousy brown hair. Allison then came up and kneeled beside him, and a moment later Dennis came running to his brother’s side.

Unable to handle the grief of all this loss, Harry quietly got up and the Great Hall seemed to fly away, become smaller, shrink, as Harry reeled backward from the doorway. He could not draw breath. He could not bear to look at any of the other bodies, to see who else had died for him. He could not bear to join Canini or Theodore, could not look into their eyes, when if he had given himself up in the first place, Remus, Tonks, and Colin might never have died…

He turned away and ran up the marble staircase. Remus…Tonks…Colin…Fred…He yearned not to feel...He wished he could rip out his heart, his innards, everything that was screaming inside him…

The castle was completely empty; even the ghosts seemed to have joined the mass mourning in the Great Hall. Harry ran without stopping, clutching the crystal flask of Snape’s last thoughts, and he did not slow down until he reached the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster’s office.

‘Password?’

‘Dumbledore!’ said Harry without thinking, because it was he whom he yearned to see, and to his surprise the gargoyle slid aside revealing the spiral staircase behind.

But when Harry burst into the circular office he found a change. The portraits that hung all around the walls were empty. Not a single headmaster or headmistress remained to see him; all, it seemed, had flitted away, charging through the paintings that lined the castle so that they could have a clear view of what was going on.

Harry glanced hopelessly at Dumbledore’s deserted frame, which hung directly behind the headmaster’s chair, then turned his back on it. The stone Pensieve lay in the cabinet where it had always been. Harry heaved it onto the desk and poured Snape’s memories into the wide basin with its runic markings around the edge. To escape into someone else’s head would be a blessed relief…

Nothing that even Snape had left him could be worse than his own thoughts. The memories swirled, silver white and strange, and without hesitating, with a feeling of reckless abandonment, as though this would assuage his torturing grief, Harry dived.

He fell headlong into sunlight, and his feet found warm ground. When he straightened up, he saw that he was in a nearly deserted playground. A single huge chimney dominated the distant skyline. Two girls were swinging backward and forward, and a skinny boy was watching them from behind a clump of bushes. His black hair was overlong and his clothes were so mismatched that it looked deliberate: too short jeans, a shabby, overlarge coat that might have belonged to a grown man, an odd smocklike shirt.

Harry moved closer to the boy. Snape looked no more than nine or ten years old, sallow, small, stringy. There was undisguised greed in his thin face as he watched the younger of the two girls swinging higher and higher than her sister.

‘Lily, don’t do it!’ shrieked the elder of the two.

But the girl had let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flown into the air, quite literally flown, launched herself skyward with a great shout of laughter, and instead of crumpling on the playground asphalt, she soared like a trapeze artist through the air, staying up far too long, landing far too lightly.

‘Mummy told you not to!’

Petunia stopped her swing by dragging the heels of her sandals on the ground, making a crunching, grinding sound, then leapt up, hands on hips.

‘Mummy said you weren’t allowed, Lily!’

‘But I’m fine,’ said Lily, still giggling. ‘Tuney, look at this. Watch what I can do.’

Petunia glanced around. The playground was deserted apart from themselves and, though the girls did not know it, Snape. Lily had picked up a fallen flower from the bush behind which Snape lurked. Petunia advanced, evidently torn between curiosity and disapproval. Lily waited until Petunia was near enough to have a clear view, then held out her palm. The flower sat there, opening and closing its petals, like some bizarre, many-lipped oyster.

‘Stop it!’ shrieked Petunia.

‘It’s not hurting you,’ said Lily, but she closed her hand on the blossom and threw it back to the ground.

‘It’s not right,’ said Petunia, but her eyes had followed the flower’s flight to the ground and lingered upon it. ‘How do you do it?’ she added, and there was definite longing in her voice.

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ Snape could no longer contain himself, but had jumped out from behind the bushes. Petunia shrieked and ran backward toward the swings, but Lily, though clearly startled, remained where she was. Snape seemed to regret his appearance. A dull flush of colour mounted the sallow cheeks as he looked at Lily.

‘What’s obvious?’ asked Lily.

Snape had an air of nervous excitement. With a glance at the distant Petunia, now hovering beside the swings, he lowered his voice and said, ‘I know what you are.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re…you’re a witch,’ whispered Snape.

She looked affronted.

‘That’s not a very nice thing to say to somebody!’

She turned, nose in the air, and marched off toward her sister.

‘No!’ said Snape. He was highly coloured now, and Harry wondered why he did not take off the ridiculously large coat, unless it was because he did not want to reveal the smock beneath it. He flapped after the girls, looking ludicrously batlike, like his older self.

The sisters considered him, united in disapproval, both holding on to one of the swing poles, as though it was the safe place in tag.

‘You are,’ said Snape to Lily. ‘You are a witch. I’ve been watching you for a while. But there’s nothing wrong with that. My mum’s one, and I’m a wizard.’

Petunia’s laugh was like cold water.

‘Wizard!’ she shrieked, her courage returned now that she had recovered from the shock of his unexpected appearance. ‘I know who you are. You’re that Snape boy! They live down Spinner’s End by the river,’ she told Lily, and it was evident from her tone that she considered the address a poor recommendation. ‘Why have you been spying on us?’

‘Haven’t been spying,’ said Snape, hot and uncomfortable and dirty-haired in the bright sunlight. ‘Wouldn’t spy on you, anyway,’ he added spitefully, ‘you’re a Muggle.’

Though Petunia evidently did not understand the word, she could hardly mistake the tone.

‘Lily, come on, we’re leaving!’ she said shrilly. Lily obeyed her sister at once, glaring at Snape as she left. He stood watching them as they marched through the playground gate, and Harry, the only one left to observe him, recognized Snape’s bitter disappointment, and understood that Snape had been planning this moment for a while, and that it had all gone wrong…

The scene dissolved, and before Harry knew it, re-formed around him. He was now in a small thicket of trees. He could see a sunlit river glittering through their trunks. The shadows cast by the trees made a basin of cool green shade. Two children sat facing each other, cross-legged on the ground. Snape had removed his coat now; his odd smock looked less peculiar in the half light.

‘…and the Ministry can punish you if you do magic outside school, you get letters.’

‘But I have done magic outside school!’

‘We’re all right. We haven’t got wands yet. They let you off when you’re a kid and you can’t help it. But once you’re eleven,’ he nodded importantly, ‘and they start training you, then you’ve got to go careful.’

There was a little silence. Lily had picked up a fallen twig and twirled it in the air, and Harry knew that she was imagining sparks trailing from it. Then she dropped the twig, leaned in toward the boy, and said, ‘It is real, isn’t it? It’s not a joke? Petunia says you’re lying to me. Petunia says there isn’t a Hogwarts. It is real, isn’t it?’

‘It’s real for us,’ said Snape. ‘Not for her. But we’ll get the letter, you and me.’

‘Really?’ whispered Lily.

‘Definitely,’ said Snape, and even with his poorly cut hair and his odd clothes, he struck an oddly impressive figure sprawled in front of her, brimful of confidence in his destiny.

‘And will it really come by owl?’ Lily whispered.

‘Normally,’ said Snape. ‘But you’re Muggle-born, so someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents.’

‘Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?’

Snape hesitated. His black eyes, eager in the greenish gloom, moved over the pale face, the dark red hair.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t make any difference.’

‘Good,’ said Lily, relaxing. It was clear that she had been worrying.

‘You’ve got loads of magic,’ said Snape. ‘I saw that. All the time I was watching you...’

His voice trailed away; she was not listening, but had stretched out on the leafy ground and was looking up at the canopy of leaves overhead. He watched her as greedily as he had watched her in the playground.

‘How are things at your house?’ Lily asked. A little crease appeared between his eyes.

‘Fine,’ he said.

‘They’re not arguing anymore?’

‘Oh yes, they’re arguing,’ said Snape. He picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart, apparently unaware of what he was doing. ‘But it won’t be that long and I’ll be gone.’

‘Doesn’t your dad like magic?’

‘He doesn’t like anything, much,’ said Snape.

‘Severus?’

A little smile twisted Snape’s mouth when she said his name.

‘Yeah?’

‘Tell me about the dementors again.’

‘What d’you want to know about them for?’

‘If I use magic outside school—‘

‘They wouldn’t give you to the dementors for that! Dementors are for people who do really bad stuff. They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban. You’re not going to end up in Azkaban, you’re too—‘

He turned red again and shredded more leaves. Then a small rustling noise behind Harry made him turn: Petunia, hiding behind a tree, had lost her footing.

‘Tuney!’ said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet.

‘Who’s spying now?’ he shouted. ‘What d’you want?’

Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say.

‘What is that you’re wearing, anyway?’ she said, pointing at Snape’s chest. ‘Your mum’s blouse?’

There was a crack. A branch over Petunia’s head had fallen.

Lily screamed. The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears.

‘Tuney!’

But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape.

‘Did you make that happen?’

‘No,’ he looked both defiant and scared.

‘You did!’ she was backing away from him. ‘You did! You hurt her!’

‘No—no, I didn’t! No on purpose!’

But the lie did not convince Lily. After one last burning look, she ran from the little thicket, off after her sister, and Snape looked miserable and confused…

And the scene re-formed. Harry looked around. He was on platform nine and three quarters, and Snape stood beside him, slightly hunched, next to a thin, sallow-faced, sour-looking woman who greatly resembled him. Snape was staring at a family of four a short distance away. The two girls stood a little apart from their parents. Harry had never seen his maternal grandparents, not even as pictures at the Dursley’s, it appeared that Lily took more after her dad while their mum looked much like how Petunia would grow up to look. Lily seemed to be pleading with her sister. Harry moved closer to listen.

‘…I’m sorry, Tuney, I’m sorry! Listen—‘ She caught her sister’s hand and held on tight to it, even though Petunia tried to pull it away. ‘Maybe once I’m there—no, listen, Tuney! Maybe once I’m there, I’ll be able to go to Professor Dumbledore and persuade him to change his mind!’

‘I don’t—want—to—go!’ said Petunia, and she dragged her hand back out of her sister’s grasp. ‘You think I want to go to some stupid castle and learn to be a–a…’

Her pale eyes roved over the platform, over the cats mewling in their owners’ arms, over the owls, fluttering and hooting at each other in cages, over the students, some already in their long black robes, loading trunks onto the scarlet steam engine or else greeting one another with glad cries after a summer apart.

‘—you think I want to be a–a freak?’

Lily’s eyes filled with tears as Petunia succeeded in tugging her hand away.

‘I’m not a freak,’ said Lily. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’

‘That’s where you’re going,’ said Petunia with relish. ‘A special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy…weirdos, that’s what you two are. It’s good you’re being separated from normal people. It’s for our safety.’

Lily glanced toward her parents, who were looking around the platform with an air of wholehearted enjoyment, drinking in the scene. Then she looked back at her sister, and her voice was low and fierce.

‘You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.’

Petunia turned scarlet.

‘Beg? I didn’t beg!’

‘I saw his reply. It was very kind.’

‘You shouldn’t have read—‘ whispered Petunia, ‘that was my private—how could you—?’

Lily gave herself away by half-glancing toward where Snape stood nearby. Petunia gasped.

‘That boy found it! You and that boy have been sneaking in my room!’

‘No—not sneaking—‘ Now Lily was on the defensive. ‘Severus saw the envelope, and he couldn’t believe a Muggle could have contacted Hogwarts, that’s all! He says there must be wizards working undercover in the postal service who take care of—‘

‘Apparently wizards poke their noses in everywhere!’ said Petunia, now as pale as she had been flushed. ‘Freak!’ she spat at her sister, and she flounced off to where her parents stood…

The scene dissolved again. Snape was hurrying along the corridor of the Hogwarts Express as it clattered through the countryside. He had already changed into his school robes, had perhaps taken the first opportunity to take off his dreadful Muggle clothes. At last he stopped, outside a compartment in which a group of rowdy boys were talking. Hunched in a corner seat beside the window was Lily, her face pressed against the windowpane.

Snape slid open the compartment door and sat down opposite Lily. She glanced at him and then looked back out of the window. She had been crying.

‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ she said in a constricted voice.

‘Why not?’

‘Tuney h–hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore.’

‘So what?’

She threw him a look of deep dislike.

‘So she’s my sister!’

‘She’s only a—‘ he caught himself quickly; Lily, too busy trying to wipe her eyes without being noticed, did not hear him.

‘But we’re going!’ he said, unable to suppress the exhilaration in his voice. ‘This is it! We’re off to Hogwarts!’

She nodded, mopping her eyes, but in spite of herself, she half smiled.

‘You’d better be in Slytherin,’ said Snape, encouraged that she had brightened a little.

‘Slytherin?’

One of the boys sharing the compartment, who had shown no interest at all in Lily or Snape until that point, looked around at the word, and Harry, whose attention had been focused entirely on the two beside the window, saw his birth father, James: slight, dark caramel skin, black-haired like Snape, but with that indefinable air of having been well-cared-for, even adored, that Snape so conspicuously lacked.

‘Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?’ James asked the boy lounging on the seats opposite him, and with a jolt, Harry realized that it was Sirius. Sirius did not smile.

‘My whole family have been in Slytherin,’ he said.

‘Blimey,’ said James, ‘and I thought you seemed all right!’

Sirius grinned.

‘Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?’

James lifted an invisible sword.

‘“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!” Like my dad.’

Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

‘Got a problem with that?’

‘No,’ said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. ‘If you’d rather be brawny than brainy—‘

‘Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?’ interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.

‘Come on, Severus, let’s find another compartment.’

‘Oooooo…’

James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice; James tried to trip Snape as he passed.

‘See ya, Snivellus!’ a voice called, as the compartment door slammed…

And the scene dissolved once more…

Harry was standing right behind Snape as they faced the candlelit House tables, lined with rapt faces. Then Professor McGonagall said, ‘Evans, Lily!’

He watched his mother walk forward on trembling legs and sit down upon the rickety stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat onto her head, and barely a second after it had touched the dark red hair, the hat cried, ‘Gryffindor!’

Harry heard Snape let out a tiny groan. Lily took off the hat, handed it back to Professor McGonagall, then hurried toward the cheering Gryffindors, but as she went she glanced back at Snape, and there was a sad little smile on her face. Harry saw Sirius move up the bench to make room for her. She took one look at him, seemed to recognize him from the train, folded her arms, and firmly turned her back on him.

The roll call continued. Harry watched Remus, Pettigrew, and his father join Lily and Sirius at the Gryffindor table. At last, when only a dozen students remained to be sorted, Professor McGonagall called Snape.

Harry walked with him to the stool, watched him place the hat upon his head.

‘Slytherin!’ cried the Sorting Hat. And Severus Snape moved off to the other side of the Hall, away from Lily, to where the Slytherins were cheering him, to where Lucius Malfoy, a prefect badge gleaming upon his chest, patted Snape on the back as he sat down beside him…And the scene changed…

Lily and Snape were walking across the castle courtyard, evidently arguing. Harry hurried to catch up with them, to listen in. As he reached them, he realized how much taller they both were. A few years seemed to have passed since their Sorting.

‘…thought we were supposed to be friends?’ Snape was saying, ‘Best friends?’

‘We are, Sev, but I don’t like some of the people you’re hanging round with! I’m sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev, he’s creepy! D’you know what he tried to do to Mary MacDonald the other day?’

Lily had reached a pillar and leaned against it, looking up into the thin, sallow face.

‘That was nothing,’ said Snape. ‘It was a laugh, that’s all—‘

‘It was Dark Magic, and if you think that’s funny—‘

‘What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?’ demanded Snape. His colour rose again as he said it, unable, it seemed, to hold in his resentment.

‘What’s Potter got to do with anything?’ said Lily.

‘They sneak out at night. There’s something weird about that Lupin. Where does he keep going?’

‘He’s ill,’ said Lily. ‘They say he’s ill—‘

‘Every month at the full moon?’ said Snape.

‘I know your theory,’ said Lily, and she sounded cold. ‘Why are you so obsessed with them anyway? Why do you care what they’re doing at night?’

‘I’m just trying to show you they’re not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are.’

The intensity of his gaze made her blush.

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

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003840013

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003841380

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842029

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842653

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003843726

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844089

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844089/r/4400000000017564493

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844352

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003844924

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003845391

Tags:

@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972 @Mega.mind.harry.potter

(I think the last chapter didn't publish quite correct, so if you haven't read the chapter about Harry finding Theodore and the gang finding Ravenclaw's diadem please read that chapter first, a lot happens in it.)

Chapter Thirty-One: The Elder Wand

The world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased, the castle fallen silent in horror, and every combatant laid down their arms? Harry’s mind was in free fall, spinning out of control, unable to grasp the impossibility, because Nymphadora Tonks could not be dead, the evidence of all his senses must be lying—

And then there was an explosion and the exterior wall collapsed on top of them, and curses flew in at them from the darkness, hitting the wall behind their heads.

‘Get down!’ Harry shouted, as more curses flew through the night: He and Allison had grabbed Theodore and Tracey and pulled them to the floor. Allison then tried to go to Tonks, so move her body away from any further harm, but Harry had to shout at her to stop.

‘Allison, come on, we’ve got to move!’ Harry said while grabbing her arm, holding her back.

She shook her head, she tried to twist herself free.

‘Allison!’ Harry saw tears running down her spot covered face, as well as Theodore and Tracey’s, and Harry knew he was probably crying to, but he knew they couldn’t stay there. He tried to pull Allison again but she would not budge. ‘There is nothing we can do for her now, Allison! We’re going to—‘

Tracey screamed, and Harry, turning, did not need to ask why. A monstrous spider the size of a small car was trying to climb through the huge hole in the wall. One of Aragog’s descendants had joined the fight.

Tracey and Harry shouted together; their spells collided and the monster was blown backward, its legs jerking horribly, and vanished into the darkness.

‘The whole family is here!’ Theodore called to the others, and glancing through the hole in the wall Harry could see it was true. More giant spiders were climbing the side of the building, liberated from the Forbidden Forest, into which the Death Eaters must have penetrated. Harry fired Stunning Spells down upon them, knocking the lead monster into its fellows, so that they rolled back down the building and out of sight. Then more curses came soaring over Harry’s head, so close he felt the force of them blow his hair.

‘Let’s move, NOW!’

Pushing Tracey ahead of him with Theodore, Harry stooped to seize Tonks’ body under the armpit. Allison, realizing what Harry was trying to do and helped: together, crouching low to avoid the curses flying at them from the grounds, they hauled Tonks out of the way.

‘Here,’ said Harry, and they placed her in a niche where a suit of armor had stood earlier. He could not bear to look at his cousin a second longer than he had to, and after making sure that the body was well-hidden, he took off after Tracey and Theodore. The corridor was now full of dust and falling masonry, glass long gone from windows, he saw many people running backward and forward, whether friends or foes he could not tell. Rounding the corner, Allison let out a bull-like roar warning:

‘DOLOHOV!’ and sprinted towards Harry.

‘Alli, Harry, over here!’ Theodore screamed.

She and Theodore were behind the tapestry, and a second later Harry and Allison’s joined them. Allison was practically fuming and she looked as though she was about to explode.

‘It was Bellatrix! I’m going to make her pay for all the pain and death she’s caused! I’ll going to kill all of the Death Eaters!’

‘Alli-‘ Tracey tried, but she choked on her words.

‘Allison! You listen to me right now!’ shouted Harry.

Her face was contorted, smeared with dust, smoke, and tears, and she was shaking with rage and grief.

He knew how she felt, they all just lost a caring and loyal family member who was always there for them, Harry wanted revenge as well, but they couldn’t do so yet. They had to finish the mission so that no one else would get hurt.

‘Allison, Jaanu, only the four of us can end this fighting! Only the four of us can kill the snake! Allison—Please!’ Harry begged.

Her breathing steadied slightly, but she still seemed engulfed in rage.

‘To get to the snake we’ll have to go through waves of Death Eaters, vile monsters you can take out, but you can only do so if you come with us,’ said Theodore, his voice raspy.

This seemed to bring Allison back, and her rage settled beneath the surface but did not cease. She turned to Harry.

‘You have to find out where Voldemort is now, as the snake will be with him. Open your mind to his, look inside of him Harry!’

Why was it so easy? Because his scar had been burning for hours, yearning to show him Voldemort’s thoughts? He closed his eyes on her command, and at once, the screams and bangs and all the discordant sounds of the battle were drowned until they became distant, as though he stood far, far away from them…

He was standing in the middle of a desolate but strangely familiar room, with peeling paper on the walls and all the windows boarded up except for one. The sounds of the assault on the castle were muffled and distant. The single unblocked window revealed distant bursts of light where the castle stood, but inside the room was dark except for a solitary oil lamp.

He was rolling his wand between his fingers, watching it, his thoughts on the room in the castle, the secret room only he had ever found, the room, like the chamber, that you had to be clever and cunning and inquisitive to discover…He was confident that the boy would not find the diadem…although Dumbledore’s puppet had come much farther than he ever expected…too far…

‘My Lord,’ said a voice, desperate and cracked. He turned: there was Lucius Malfoy sitting in the darkest corner, ragged and still bearing the marks of the punishment he had received after the boy’s last escape. One of his eyes remained closed and puffy. ‘My Lord...please...my son...’

‘If your son is dead, Lucius, he did so trying to fulfill my commands, you should be honoured. That of course is if he is loyal and did not decided to befriend Harry Potter?’

‘No—never,’ whispered Malfoy.

‘You must hope not.’

‘Aren’t—aren’t you afraid, my Lord that Potter might die at another hand but yours?’ asked Malfoy, his voice shaking.

‘Wouldn’t it be…forgive me…more prudent to call off this battle, enter the castle, and seek him y–yourself?’

‘Do not pretend Lucius. You wish the battle to cease so that you can discover what has happened to your son. And I do not need to seek Potter. Before the night is out, Potter will have come to find me.’

Voldemort dropped his gaze once more to the wand in his fingers. It troubled him…and those things that troubled Lord Voldemort needed to be rearranged…

‘Go and fetch Snape.’

‘Snape, m–my Lord?’

‘Snape. Now. I need him. There is a—service—I require from him. Go.’

Frightened, stumbling a little through the gloom, Lucius left the room. Voldemort continued to stand there, twirling the wand between his fingers, staring at it.

‘It is the only way, Nagini,’ he whispered, and he looked around, and there was the great thick snake, now suspended in midair, twisting gracefully within the enchanted, protected space he had made for her, a starry, transparent sphere somewhere between a glittering cage and a tank.

With a gasp, Harry pulled back and opened his eyes at the same moment his ears were assaulted with the screeches and cries, the smashes and bangs of battle.

‘He’s in the Shrieking Shack. The snake’s with him, it’s got some sort of magical protection around it. He’s just sent Lucius Malfoy to find Snape.’

‘Voldemort is hiding in the Shrieking Shack?’ said Theodore, outraged. ‘He isn’t even fighting with his dying army?’

‘He doesn’t think he needs to fight,’ said Harry. ‘He thinks I’m going to go to him.’

‘Why would he—‘ began Tracey.

‘He knows I’m after Horcruxes—he’s keeping Nagini close beside him—obviously I’m going to have to go to him to get near the thing—‘

‘Correct,’ said Theodore, ‘so that is why you shouldn’t go, he’s expecting you, it’s a trap. You should stay here and maybe one of two of us go under your Cloak—‘

Harry cut Theodore off.

‘No, you three stay here, I’ll go under the Cloak and I’ll be back as soon as I—‘

‘I’ll go, I need to fight something!’ said Allison.

‘No one should go by themselves,’ said Tracey.

Before Harry or anyone else could argue any further, the tapestry at the top of the staircase on which they stood was ripped open.

‘POTTER!’

Dolohov and another masked Death Eaters stood there, but even before their wands were fully raised, Tracey shouted ‘Everte Statum!’

And the Death Eaters were flung backwards several feet and then fell down the rest of the stair.

‘We have to run!’ she cried, and without arguing the began sprinting down a different corridor away from the first two Death Eaters.

A moment later the four of them ran into another set, and curse started flying over their heads.

‘Ebubio!’ shouted Allison and one of the Death Eaters became trapped in a large bubble. Theodore used the Full Body-Bind curse on another, and Harry cast the Incarcerous Spell on the final Death Eater in the way.

They could hear something coming, and so Allison shouted, ‘Get back!’ before she, Harry, Tracey, and Theodore hurled themselves against a door as a herd of galloping desks thundered past, shepherded by a sprinting Professor McGonagall. She appeared not to notice them. Her hair had come down and there was a gash on her cheek. As she turned the corner, they heard her scream, ‘CHARGE!’

‘Harry, it should be you who uses the Cloak,’ said Tracey. ‘The rest of us will—‘

‘But he threw it over all four of them; large though they were he doubted anyone would see their disembodied lower legs through the dust that clogged the air, the falling stone, the shimmer of spells.

They ran down the next staircase and found themselves in a corridor full of duelers. The portraits on either side of the fighters were crammed with figures screaming advice and encouragement, while Death Eaters, both masked and unmasked, dueled students and teachers. Dean had won himself a wand, for he was now the one face-to-face with Dolohov, Terence with Travers. All four friends raised their wands at once, ready to strike, but the duelers were weaving and darting so much that there was a strong likelihood of hurting on of their own side if they cast curses.

Even as they stood braced, looking for the opportunity to act, there came a great ‘Wheeeeeeeeeeee!’ and looking up, Harry saw Peeves zooming over them, dropping Snargaluff pods down onto the Death Eaters, whose heads were suddenly engulfed in wriggling green tubers like fat worms.

‘Argh!’

A fistful of tubers had hit the Cloak over Theodore’s head; the damp green roots were suspended improbably in midair as Theodore tried to shake them loose.

‘Someone’s invisible there!’ shouted a masked Death Eater, pointing.

Terence made the most of the Death Eater’s momentary distraction, knocking him out with a stunning Spell; Dolohov attempted to retaliate, and Dean shot a Confundus Charm then Stun Spell at him.

‘LET’S GO!’ Harry yelled, and he, and the other three gathered the Cloak tightly around themselves and pelted, heads down, through the midst of the fighters, slipping a little in pools of Snargaluff juice, toward the top of the marble staircase into the entrance hall.

There were more duelers all over the stairs and in the hall. Death Eaters everywhere Harry looked: Yaxley, close to the front doors, in combat with Flitwick, a masked Death Eater dueling Kingsley right beside them. Students ran in every direction; some carrying or dragging injured or dead friends. Harry directed a Stunning Spell toward the masked Death Eater; it missed but nearly hit Neville, who had emerged from nowhere brandishing armfuls of Venomous Tentacula, which looped itself happily around the nearest Death Eater and began reeling him in.

Harry, Theodore, Allison, and Tracey sped down the marble staircase: glass shattered on the left, and the Slytherin hourglass that had recorded House points spilled its emeralds everywhere, so that people slipped and staggered as they ran.

A body fell from the balcony overhead as they reached the ground. Looking up Harry could see the quick blur of the animalistic Fenrir Greyback.

‘No!’ Harry heard Canini howl in emotional turmoil and then she yelled 'Duro'.

And within seconds the body of Greyback had turned to solid stone. Harry thought Canini's attack would end with Greyback's petrification, but then he watched in shock as she shoved Greyback's stone form off the balcony, sending it to the ground below where it shattered. He couldn’t understand this action until he saw that the body below her next to the rubble that used to be Greyback was that of Remus Lupin.

‘Remus…’ Harry heard Theodore whisper.

‘Harry!’ yelled Allison in warning before she forcibly shoved his head down. A bright white crystal ball flew over where his face had been a second before and hit a Death Eater right on the top of his head, and he crumpled to the ground and did not move.

‘I have more!’ shrieked Professor Trelawney from over the banisters. ‘More for any who want them! Here—‘

And with a move like a tennis serve, she heaved another enormous crystal sphere from her bag, waved her wand through the air, and caused the ball to speed across the hall and smash through a window. At the same moment, the heavy wooden front doors burst open, and more of the gigantic spiders forced their way into the front hall.

Screams of terror rent the air: the fighters scattered, Death Eaters and Hogwartians alike, and red and green jets of light flew into the midst of the oncoming monsters, which shuddered and reared, more terrifying than ever.

‘W-we have to get out of here,’ Harry mumbled, but in reality he wanted to go to his sister who was currently suffering alone.

‘But how?’ yelled Tracey over all the screaming, but before either Harry, Allison, or Theodore could answer they were bowled aside; Hagrid had come thundering down the stairs, brandishing his flowery pink umbrella.

‘Don’t hurt ’em, don’t hurt ’em!’ he yelled.

‘HAGRID, NO!’

Harry forgot everything else: he sprinted out from under the cloak, running bent double to avoid the curses illuminating the whole hall.

‘HAGRID, COME BACK!’ But he was not even halfway to Hagrid when he saw it happen: Hagrid vanished amongst the spiders, and with a great scurrying, a foul swarming movement, they retreated under the onslaught of spells, Hagrid buried in their midst.

‘HAGRID!’

Harry heard someone calling his own name, whether friend or foe he did not care: He was sprinting down the front steps into the dark grounds, and the spiders were swarming away with their prey, and he could see nothing of Hagrid at all.

‘HAGRID!’

He thought he could make out an enormous arm waving from the midst of the spider swarm, but as he made to chase after them, his way was impeded by a monumental foot, which swung down out of the darkness and made the ground on which he stood shudder. He looked up: A giant stood before him, twenty feet high, its head hidden in shadow, nothing but its treelike, hairy shins illuminated by light from the castle doors. With one brutal, fluid movement, it smashed a massive fist through an upper window, and glass rained down upon Harry, forcing him back under the shelter of the doorway.

‘What the H—!’ shrieked Allison, as she, Tracey, and Theodore caught up with Harry and gazed upward at the giant now trying to seize people through the window above.

‘Stop!’ Tracey yelled, grabbing Allison’s hand as she raised her wand. ‘If you make him fall he could fall on the castle and—‘

‘HAGGER?’

Grawp came lurching around the corner of the castle; only now did Harry realize that Grawp was, indeed, an undersized giant. The gargantuan monster trying to crush people on the upper floors turned around and let out a roar. The stone steps trembled as he stomped toward his smaller kin, and Grawp’s lopsided mouth fell open, showing yellow, half brick-sized teeth; and then they launched themselves at each other with the savagery of lions.

‘RUN!’ Harry roared; the night was full of hideous yells and blows as the giants wrestled, and he seized Allison’s hand and tore down the steps into the grounds, Theodore and Tracey bringing up the rear. Harry had not lost hope of finding and saving Hagrid; he ran so fast that they were halfway toward the forest before they were brought up short again.

The air around them had frozen: Harry’s breath caught and solidified in his chest. Shapes moved out in the darkness, swirling figures of concentrated blackness, moving in a great wave towards the castles, their faces hooded and their breath rattling…

Allison stood by his side and Theodore and Tracey closed in beside them as the sounds of fighting behind them grew suddenly muted, deadened, because a silence only dementors could bring was falling thickly through the night, and Tonks was gone, as was his last remaining parent, and Hagrid was surely dying or already dead...

‘Come on, Harry!’ said Allison’s voice even though it sounded very far away. ‘Cast your Patronus, we need you!’

He raised his wand, but a dull hopelessness was spreading throughout him: How many more lay dead that he did not yet know about? He felt as though his soul had already half left his body…

‘HARRY!’ screamed Tracey.

A hundred dementors were advancing, gliding toward them, sucking their way closer to Harry’s despair, which was like a promise of a feast…

He saw Tracey and Theodore’s silver monarch butterfly and grass snake burst into the air, flicker feebly, and then both expired; he saw Allison’s doe leap in midair and fade, and his own wand trembled in his hand, and he almost welcomed the oncoming oblivion, the promise of nothing, of no feeling…

And then a silver hare, a boar, and sparrowhawk soared past Harry, Tracey, Allison, and Theodore’s heads: the dementors fell back before the creatures’ approach. For a moment Harry mistook the hare for a jack rabbit and thought Tonks had saved him, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the case.

Three more people had arrived out of the darkness to stand beside them, their wands outstretched, continuing to cast Patronuses: Luna, Ernie, and Terence.

‘That’s right,’ said Luna encouragingly, as if they were back in the Room of Requirement and this was simply spell practice for the D.A., ‘That’s right, Harry…come on think of something happy…’

‘Something happy?’ he said, his voice cracked.

‘We’re with you all the way, Harry,’ said Terence. ‘We’ll fight by your side to the very end.’

‘Harry, I love you,’ whispered Allison.

There was a silver spark, then a wavering light, and then, with the greatest effort it had ever cost him the stag burst from the end of Harry’s wand. It cantered forward, and now the dementors scattered in earnest, and immediately the night was mild again, but the sounds of the surrounding battle were loud in his ears.

‘I am so grateful you all showed up,’ said Tracey shakily, looking at Terence in particular.

‘Yes, you all just saved our lives,’ said Theodore to Luna, Ernie, and Terence.

With a roar and an earth-quaking tremor, another giant came lurching out of the darkness from the direction of the forest, brandishing a club taller than any of them.

‘RUN!’ Harry shouted again, but the others needed no telling; They all scattered, and not a second too soon, for the next moment the creature’s vast foot had fallen exactly where they had been standing. Harry looked around: Tracey, Allison, and Theodore were following him, but the other three had vanished back into the battle.

‘We should get out of everyone’s range!’ yelled Theodore as the giant swung its club again and its bellows echoed through the night, across the grounds where bursts of red and green light continued to illuminate the darkness.

‘The Whomping willow,’ said Harry, ‘go!’

Somehow he walled it all up in his mind, crammed it into a small space into which he could not look now: thoughts of Remus, Tonks, and Hagrid, and his terror for all the people he loved, scattered in and outside the castle, must all wait, because they had to run, had to reach the snake and Voldemort, because that was the only way to end it—

He sprinted, half—believing he could outdistance death itself, ignoring the jets of light flying in the darkness all around him, and the sound of the lake crashing like the sea, and the creaking of the Forbidden Forest though the night was windless; through grounds that seemed themselves to have risen in rebellion, he ran faster than he had ever moved in his life, and it was he who saw the great tree first, the Willow that protected the secret at its roots with whiplike, slashing branches.

Panting and gasping, Harry slowed down, skirting the willow’s swiping branches, peering through the darkness toward its tick trunk, trying to see the single knot in the bark of the old tree that would paralyze it. The other three caught up, Tracey so out of breath that she could not speak.

‘S—so, how do we stop it from murdering us?’ gasped Allison, catching her breath. ‘My cat is still with Tulip—‘

‘We don’t need Shabaz,’ wheezed Theodore, bent double, clutching his chest. ‘We know way more spells now than we did then.’

‘Right—sorry—‘

Allison looked around, then directed her wand at a small rock on the ground and said ‘Wingardium Leviosa!’

The rock flew up from the ground, spun through the air as if caught by a gust of wind, then zoomed directly at the trunk through the Willow’s ominously swaying branches. It hit exactly at its target of a place near the roots, and at once, the writhing tree became still.

‘Great job,’ panted Tracey.

‘Wait.’

For one teetering second, while the crashes and booms of the battle filled the air, Harry hesitated. Voldemort wanted him to do this, wanted him to come...Was he leading his three closest friends into a trap?

But the reality seemed to close upon him, cruel and plain: the only way forward was to kill the snake, and the snake was where Voldemort was, and Voldemort was at the end of this tunnel…

‘Harry, I know how much you have lost, and how desperately afraid you are of losing anyone else, but we are with you for all of this,’ said Allison in a soothing tone. Her face then let loose some of her pent up rage. ‘Now let’s go bash in that snake’s skull!’

Harry wriggled into the earthy passage hidden in the tree’s roots. It was a much tighter squeeze than it had been the last time they had entered it. The tunnel was low—ceilinged: they had had to double up to move through it nearly four years previously; now there was nothing for it but to crawl. Harry went first, his wand illuminated, expecting at any moment to meet barriers, but none came. They moved in silence, Harry’s gaze fixed upon the swinging beam of the wand held in his fist.

At last, the tunnel began to slope upward and Harry saw a sliver of light ahead. Theodore tugged at his ankle.

‘The Cloak!’ he whispered. ‘You should put the Cloak on!’

He groped behind him and he forced the bundle of slippery cloth into his free hand. With difficulty he dragged it over himself, murmured, ‘Nox,’ extinguishing his wandlight, and continued on his hands and knees, as silently as possible, all his senses straining, expecting every second to be discovered, to hear a cold clear voice, see a flash of green light.

And then he heard voices coming from the room directly ahead of them, only slightly muffled by the fact that the opening at the end of the tunnel had been blocked up by what looked like an old crate. Hardly daring to breathe, Harry edged right up to the opening and peered through a tiny gap left between crate and wall.

The room beyond was dimly lit, but he could see Nagini, swirling and coiling like a serpent underwater, safe in her enchanted, starry sphere, which floated unsupported in midair. He could see the edge of a table, and a long-fingered white hand toying with a wand. Then Snape spoke, and Harry’s heart lurched: Snape was inches away from where he crouched, hidden.

‘...my Lord, their resistance is crumbling—‘

‘—and it is doing so without your help,’ said Voldemort in his high, clear voice. ‘Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there…almost.’

‘Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please.’

Snape strode past the gap, and Harry drew back a little, keeping his eyes fixed upon Nagini, wondering whether there was any spell that might penetrate the protection surrounding her, but he could not think of anything. One failed attempt, and he would give away his position…

Voldemort stood up. Harry could see him now, see the red eyes, the flattened, serpentine face, the pallor of him gleaming slightly in the semidarkness.

‘I have a problem, Severus,’ said Voldemort softly.

‘My Lord?’ said Snape.

Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, holding it as delicately and precisely as a conductor’s baton.

‘Why doesn’t it work for me, Severus?’

In the silence Harry imagined he could hear the snake hissing slightly as it coiled and uncoiled—or was it Voldemort’s sibilant sigh lingering on the air?

‘My—my lord?’ said Snape blankly. ‘I do not understand. You—you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand.’

‘No,’ said Voldemort. ‘I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand…no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago.’

Voldemort’s tone was musing, calm, but Harry’s scar had begun to throb and pulse: Pain was building in his forehead, and he could feel that controlled sense of fury building inside Voldemort.

‘No difference,’ said Voldemort again.

Snape did not speak. Harry could not see his face. He wondered whether Snape sensed danger, was trying to find the right words to reassure his master.

Voldemort started to move around the room: Harry lost sight of him for seconds as he prowled, speaking in that same measured voice, while the pain and fury mounted in Harry.

‘I have thought long and hard, Severus…do you know why I have called you back from battle?’

And for a moment Harry saw Snape’s profile. His eyes were fixed upon the coiling snake in its enchanted cage.

‘No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter.’

‘You sound like Lucius. Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I knew his weakness you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come.’

‘But my Lord, he might be killed accidentally by someone other than yourself—‘

‘My instructions to the Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends—the more, the better—but do not kill him. But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable.’

‘My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But—let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can—‘

‘I have told you, no!’ said Voldemort, and Harry caught the glint of red in his eyes as he turned again, and the swishing of his cloak was like the slithering of a snake, and he felt Voldemort’s impatience in his burning scar. ‘My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!’

‘My Lord, there can be no question, surely—?’

‘—but there is a question, Severus. There is.’

Voldemort halted, and Harry could see him plainly again as he slid the Elder Wand through his white fingers, staring at Snape.

‘Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?’

‘I—I cannot answer that, my Lord.’

‘Can’t you?’

The stab of rage felt like a spike driven through Harry’s head: he forced his own fist into his mouth to stop himself from crying out in pain. He closed his eyes, and suddenly he was Voldemort, looking into Snape’s pale face.

‘My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another’s wand. I did so, but Lucius’ wand shattered upon meeting Potter’s.’

‘I—I have no explanation, my Lord.’

Snape was not looking at Voldemort now. His dark eyes were still fixed upon the coiling serpent in its protective sphere.

'I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore.’

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape’s face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

‘My Lord—let me go to the boy—‘

‘All this long night when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here,’ said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, ‘wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner…and I think I have the answer.’

Snape did not speak.

‘Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.’

‘My Lord—‘

‘The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine.’

‘My Lord!’ Snape protested, raising his wand.

‘It cannot be any other way,’ said Voldemort. ‘I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last.’

And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: but then Voldemort’s intention became clear. The snake’s cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue.

‘Kill.’

There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape’s face losing the little colour it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake’s fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor.

‘I regret it,’ said Voldemort coldly.

He turned away; there was no sadness in him, no remorse. It was time to leave this shack and take charge, with a wand that would now do his full bidding. He pointed it at the starry cage holding the snake, which drifted upward, off Snape, who fell sideways onto the floor, blood gushing from the wounds in his neck. Voldemort swept from the room without a backward glance, and the great serpent floated after him in its huge protective sphere.

Back in the tunnel and his own mind, Harry opened his eyes; He had drawn blood biting down on his knuckles in an effort not to shout out. Now he was looking through the tiny crack between crate and wall, watching a foot in a black boot trembling on the floor.

‘Harry!’ breathed Allison behind him, but he had already pointed his wand at the crate blocking his view. It lifted an inch into the air and drifted sideways silently. As quietly as he could, he pulled himself up into the room.

He did not know why he was doing it, why he was approaching the dying man: he did not know what he felt as he saw Snape’s white face, and the fingers trying to staunch the bloody wound at his neck. Harry took off the invisibility cloak and looked down upon the man he hated, whose widening black eyes found Harry as he tried to speak.

Harry bent over him, and Snape seized the front of his robes and pulled him close.

A terrible rasping, gurgling noise issued from Snape’s throat. ‘Take...it...Take...it...’

Something more than blood was leaking from Snape. Silvery blue, neither gas nor liquid, it gushed form his mouth and his ears and his eyes, and Harry knew what it was, but did not know what to do—

A flask, conjured from thin air, was thrust into his shaking hand by Tracey. Harry lifted the silvery substance into it with his wand. When the flask was full to the brim, and Snape looked as though there was no blood left in him, his grip on Harry’s robes slackened.

‘Look...at...me...’ he whispered.

The green eyes found the black, but after a second, something in the depths of the dark pair seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, blank, and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more.

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

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003840013

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003841380

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842029

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842653

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003843726

Tags:

@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972 @Mega.mind.harry.potter

(Because they're both short and I already have them finished, I'm going to post both chapters 26 and 27 today. Enjoy.)

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Final Hiding Place

There was no means of steering; the dragon could not see where it was going, and Harry knew that if it turned sharply or rolled in midair they would find it impossible to cling onto its broad back. Nevertheless, as they climbed higher and higher, London unfurling below them like a gray-and-green map, Harry’s overwhelming feeling was of gratitude for an escape that had seemed impossible. Crouching low over the beast’s neck, he clung tight to the metallic scales, and the cool breeze both stung and soothed his burned and blistered skin, the dragon’s wings beating the air like the sails of a windmill. Behind him, whether from delight or fear he could not tell, Theodore kept swearing at the top of his voice, and Tracey seemed to be sobbing, Allison on the other hand was cheering from their impossible victory.

After five minutes or so, Harry lost some of his immediate dread that the dragon was going to throw them off, for it seemed intent on nothing but getting as far away from its underground prison as possible; but the question of how and when they were to dismount remained rather frightening. He had no idea how long dragons could fly without landing, nor how this particular dragon, which could barely see, would locate a good place to put down. He glanced around constantly, imagining that he could feel his seat prickling.

How long would it be before Voldemort knew that they had broken into the Lestranges’ vault? How soon would the goblins of Gringotts notify Bellatrix? How quickly would they realize what had been taken? And then, when they discovered that the golden cup was missing? Voldemort would know, at last, that they were hunting Horcruxes.

The dragon seemed to crave cooler and fresher air. It climbed steadily until they were flying through wisps of chilly cloud, and Harry could no longer make out the little coloured dots which were cars pouring in and out of the capital. On and on they flew, over countryside parceled out in patches of green and brown, over roads and rivers winding through the landscape like strips of matte and glossy ribbon.

‘Where is he going?’ Allison yelled as they flew farther and farther north.

‘No idea,’ Harry bellow back. His hands were numb with cold but he did not date attempt to shift his grip. He had been wondering for some time what they would do if they saw the coast sail beneath them, if the dragon headed for open sea, he was probably just as cold and numb as they were, not to mention desperately hungry and thirsty. When, Harry wondered, had the beast itself last eaten? Surely it would need sustenance before long? And what if, at that point, it realized it had four highly edible humans sitting on its back?

The sun slipped lower in the sky, which was turning indigo; and still the dragon flew, cities and towns gliding out of sight beneath them, its enormous shadow sliding over the earth like a giant dark cloud. Every part of Harry ached with the effort of holding on to the dragon’s back.

‘I could be hallucinating,’ shouted Theodore from far behind Harry after a considerable stretch of silence, ‘but I think we’re losing altitude!’

Harry looked down and saw deep green mountains and lakes, coppery in the sunset. The landscape seemed to grow larger and more detailed as he squinted over the side of the dragon, and he wondered whether it had divined the presence of fresh water by the flashes of reflected sunlight.

Lower and lower the dragon flew, in great spiraling circles, honing in, it seemed, upon one of the smaller lakes.

‘I say we jump when it gets low enough!’ Harry called back to the others. ‘Straight into the water before it realizes we’re here!’

They agreed, Tracey a little faintly, and now Harry could see the dragon’s wide yellow underbelly rippling in the surface of the water.

‘NOW!’

He slithered over the side of the dragon and plummeted feetfirst toward the surface of the lake; the drop was greater than he had estimated and he hit the water hard, plunging like a stone into a freezing, green, reed-filled world. He kicked toward the surface and emerged, panting, to see enormous ripples emanating in circles from the places where his friends had fallen. The dragon did not seem to have noticed anything; it was already fifty feet away, swooping low over the lake to scoop up water in its scarred snout. As Theodore, Allison, and Tracey emerged, spluttering and gasping, from the depths of the lake, the dragon flew on, its wings beating hard, and landed at last on a distant bank.

The gang struck out for the opposite shore. The lake did not seem to be deep. Soon it was more a question of fighting their way through reeds and mud than swimming, and at last they flopped, sodden, panting, and exhausted, onto slippery grass.

Tracey collapsed, coughing and shuddering. Though Harry could have happily lain down and slept, he staggered to his feet, drew out his wand, and started casting the usual protective spells around them.

When he had finished, he joined the others. It was the first time that he had seen them properly since escaping from the vault. All of them had angry red burns all over their faces and arms, and their clothing was singed away in places, Tracey and Allison were burned the worst as they had both been submerged in the cursed treasure.

After a few minutes of rest, while wincing, Tracey extracted three concoctions from her purse. The first one he recognized as Wound Cleaning Potion which he gladly accepted and applied then passed around, but the bottle of orange potion and jar containing an orange paste were unfamiliar.

‘Sorry, I’m all out of Essence of Dittany and Restorative Draught,’ said Tracey when she noticed his expression. ‘While it isn’t as good we’ll have to make do with Burn-Healing Paste and Invigoration Draught.’

They were wincing as they dabbed the slower healing paste onto their many injuries. once that more immediate problem was out of the way, Tracey pulled out four bottles of butterbeer as well a tin lunch box containing tuna sandwiches she had brought from Shell Cottage and clean, dry robes for all of them. They changes, ate, and then gulped down the juice.

‘Alright then, we accomplished one goal,’ said Theodore finally, who was sitting watching the burns on his hands heal, ‘we successfully stole the Horcrux. However—‘

‘—no we lost the fang,’ said Harry through gritted teeth. It was at that moment that Tracey burst into tears.

‘I am so unbelievably sorry for dropping it, this is all my fault! I tried desperately to get it back, but just as you told us we had to leave the heat must have been too much because I watched it burst apart just out of my reach and—!’

‘Tracey!’ said Harry sternly. ‘This isn’t your fault.’

‘Yeah, this is all Griphook’s doing,’ added Allison.

‘She’s right, and it’s for the best you didn’t reach it because if it had burst in your head you probably would have been infected with its venom and then you wouldn’t be here with us,’ said Theodore while trying to be supportive but coming off a little morbid.

‘What we’re trying to say is, Griphook betrayed us, he probably would have grabbed the Basilisk fang even if you hadn’t dropped it,’ concluded Harry. This managed to get Tracey to nod, and she began to calm down.

‘He betrayed us in more ways than one,’ said Allison suddenly, and the others turned to see her holding an empty tiara case. ‘He must have removed it from the case and kept it in his bag.’

Harry sighed.

‘I should have listened to Remus more carefully. He said goblins will only view goblin-made items as their own, he was never going to let us have the tiara back,’ explained Harry. ‘Oh well, that’s not that important right now I guess.’

Harry pulled the Horcrux from the pocket of the wet jacket he had just taken off and set it down on the grass in front of them. Glinting in the sun, it drew their eyes as they swigged their bottles of butterbeer.

‘Well, one blessing I guess is that we won’t be carrying this one around our necks,’ said Allison as she finished eating.

Tracey looked across the lake to the far bank where the dragon was still drinking.

‘He’s been in captivity probably for his entire life, do you think he’ll be ok on his own?’ she asked.

‘Tracey, this is probably the sickest and most malnourish dragon in the world and yet it still broke through several layers of solid rock and foundation then flew the length of the entire UK. It will be just fine,’ said Theodore. ‘We got other problems on our hands.’

‘And that is?’ asked Allison.

‘Well I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you all,’ began Theodore sarcastically, ‘but I think the entirety of the wizarding world now knows that Theodore, Allison, Tracey, and the famous Harry Potter just broke out of Gringotts on the back of a giant bloody dragon!’

All four of them started to laugh, and once started, it was difficult to stop. Harry’s ribs ached, and despite the sandwich he felt lightheaded with hunger, but he lay back on the grass beneath the reddening sky and laughed until his throat was raw.

‘What are we supposed to do from here, though?’ said Allison finally, hiccuping herself back to seriousness. ‘You-Know-Who knew what was in that vault, he has to know by now what we’ve been doing all this time. That we are hunting his Horcruxes!’

‘Perhaps the goblins will be too scared to tell anyone which vault was robbed?’ said Tracey in a false hope, ‘maybe they’ll cover the whole thing up—‘

The sky, the smell of the lake water, the sound of Tracey’s voice were extinguished. Pain cleaved Harry’s head like a sword stroke. He was standing in a dimly lit room, and a semicircle of wizards faced him, and on the floor at his feet knelt a small, quaking figure.

‘What did you say to me?’ His voice was high and cold, but fury and fear burned inside him. The one thing that he had dreaded—but it could not be true, he could not see how...The goblin was trembling, unable to meet the red eyes high above his.

‘Say it again!’ murmured Voldemort. ‘Say it again!’

‘M-my Lord,’ stammered the goblin, its black eyes wide with terror, ‘m-my Lord…we t–tried to st–stop them...Im–impostors, my Lord...broke—broke into the—into the Lestranges’ vault…’

‘Impostors? What impostors? I thought Gringotts had ways of revealing impostors? Who were they?’

‘It was...it was...the P–Potter b–boy and the th–three accomplices…’

‘And they took?’ he said, his voice rising, a terrible fear gripping him, ‘Tell me! What did they take?’

‘A…a helmet an–and a s–small golden c–cup m–my Lord...’

The scream of rage, of denial left him as if it were a stranger’s. He was crazed, frenzied, it could not be true, it was impossible, nobody had known. How was it possible that the boy could have discovered his secret?

The Elder Wand slashed through the air and green light erupted through the room; the kneeling goblin rolled over dead; the watching wizards scattered before him, terrified. Bellatrix and Lucius Malfoy threw others behind them in their race for the door, and again and again his wand fell, and those who were left were slain, all of them, for bringing him this news, for hearing about the golden cup—

Alone amongst the dead he stomped up and down, and they passed before him in vision: his treasures, his safeguards, his anchors to immortality—the diary was destroyed and the cup was stolen. What if, what if, the boy knew about the others? Could he know, had he already acted, had he traced more of them? Was Dumbledore at the root of this? Dumbledore, who had always suspected him; Dumbledore, dead on his orders; Dumbledore, whose wand was his now, yet who reached out from the ignominy of death through the boy, the boy—

But surely if the boy had destroyed any of his Horcruxes, he, Lord Voldemort, would have known, would have felt it? He, the greatest wizard of them all; he, the most powerful; he, the killer of Dumbledore and of how many other worthless, nameless men. How could Lord Voldemort not have known, if he, himself, most important and precious, had been attacked, mutilated?

True, he had not felt it when the diary had been destroyed, but he had thought that was because he had no body to feel with, being less than ghost…No, surely, the rest were safe…The other Horcruxes must be intact…

But he must know, he must be sure…He paced the room, kicking aside the goblin’s corpse as he passed, and the pictures blurred and burned in his boiling brain: the lake, the shack, and Hogwarts—

A modicum of calm cooled his rage now. How could the boy know that he had hidden the ring in the Gaunt shack? No one had ever known him to be related to the Gaunts, he had hidden the connection, the killings had never been traced to him. The ring, surely, was safe.

And how could the boy, or anybody else, know about the cave or penetrate its protection? The idea of the locket being stolen was absurd…

As for the school: He alone knew where in Hogwarts he had stowed the Horcrux, because he alone had plumed the deepest secrets of that place…

And there was still Nagini, who must remain close now, no longer sent to do his bidding, under his protection…

But to be sure, to be utterly sure, he must return to each of his hiding places, he must redouble protection around each of his Horcruxes...A job, like the quest for the Elder Wand, that he must undertake alone…

Which should he visit first, which was in most danger? An old unease flickered inside him. Dumbledore had known his middle name...Dumbledore might have made the connection with the Gaunts...Their abandoned home was, perhaps, the least secure of his hiding places, it was there that he would go first…

The lake, surely impossible…though was there a slight possibility that Dumbledore might have known some of his past misdeeds, through the orphanage.

And Hogwarts…but he knew the his Horcrux there was safe; it would be impossible for Potter to enter Hogsmeade without detection, let alone the school. Nevertheless, it would be prudent to alert Snape to the fact that the boy might try to reenter the castle…To tell Snape why the boy might return would be foolish, of course; it had been a grave mistake to trust Bellatrix and Malfoy. Didn’t their stupidity and carelessness prove how unwise it was ever to trust?

He would visit the Gaunt shack first, then, and take Nagini with him. He would not be parted from the snake anymore…and he strode from the room, through the hall, and out into the dark garden where the fountain played; he called the snake in Parseltongue and it slithered out to join him like a long shadow…

Harry’s eyes flew open as he wrenched himself back to the present. He was lying on the bank of the lake in the setting sun, and Theodore, Allison, and Tracey were looking down at him. Judging by their worried looks, and by the continued pounding of his scar, his sudden excursion into Voldemort’s mind had not passed unnoticed. He struggled up, shivering, vaguely surprised that he was still wet to his skin, and saw the cup lying innocently in the grass before him, and the lake, deep blue shot with gold in the falling sun.

‘He knows,’ his own voice sounded strange and low after Voldemort’s high screams. ‘He knows and he’s going to check where the others are, and the last one,’ he was already on his feet, ‘is at Hogwarts. I knew it. I knew it.’

‘What?’

Theodore was gaping at him; Tracey sat up, looking worried. ‘But how do you know? What exactly did you see?’

‘I saw him find out about the cup, I–I was in his head, he’s—‘ Harry remembered the killings— ‘he’s seriously angry, and scared too, he can’t understand how we knew, and now he’s going to check the others are safe, the ring first. He thinks the Hogwarts one is safest, because Snape’s there, because it’ll be so hard not to be seen getting in. I think he’ll check that one last, but he could still be there within hours—‘

‘And where in Hogwarts is the other Horcrux?’ asked Allison, now scrambling to her feet too.

‘I don’t know, he was concentrating on warning Snape, he didn’t think about exactly where it is—‘

‘Sorry, wait!’ cried Theodore as Allison and now Tracey joined Harry as he picked up the Horcrux and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak again. ‘Are you saying be go now? We’re injured, hungry, we’ve got no plan, and—‘

‘We need to get going,’ said Harry firmly. He had been hoping to sleep, looking forward to getting into the new tent, but that was impossible now, ‘Can you imagine what he’s going to do once he realizes the ring and the locket are gone? What if he moves the Hogwarts Horcrux, decides it isn’t safe enough? We’ll never find it after that!’

‘Answer me this then, how in blazes are we getting into Hogwarts?’ asked Theodore, finally standing up to join them.

‘We’ll go to Hogsmeade,’ said Harry, ‘we’ll break into Honeydukes and use their passageway. Everyone get under the Cloak, I want to stick together this time.’

‘Harry, half of our legs will show—‘ began Tracey.

‘It’ll be dark, no one’s going to notice.’

The flapping of enormous wings echoed across the black water. The dragon had drunk its fill and risen into the air. They paused in their preparations to watch it climb higher and higher, now black against the rapidly darkening sky, until it vanished over a nearby mountain. Then they all huddled as closely together as possible, Harry pulled the Cloak down as far as it would go, and together they turned on the spot into the crushing darkness.

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

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003840013

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003841380

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842029

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842653

Tags:

@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972 @Mega.mind.harry.potter

Chapter Twenty-Five: Gringotts

(I changed the canon slightly on how the two curses in the vault work, it was the best option for how I want to depict this chapter.)

Their plans were made, their preparations complete; in the smallest bedroom a single long, coarse black hair (plucked from the sweater Tracey had been wearing at Malfoy Manor that she insisted was not her own or Allison’s) lay curled in a small glass phial on the mantelpiece.

‘You’ll have to switch wands until we’re securely inside so that Allison has Bellatrix’s,’ said Harry on the eve before they broke into Gringotts, nodding toward the walnut wand, ‘with it I reckon you’ll be pretty convincing.’

Tracey looked frightened that the wand might sting or bite her as she picked it up.

‘Good, I hate this thing,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It literally tortured me, it feels wrong in my hand, and it resists me when I do spells. I’ll be happy to use the cedar wand for a few hours.’

‘Just as long as you’re careful in return,’ said Allison in a kind but warning tone. ‘Fairy wing core wands can be…unpredictable.’

‘I’ll be ok, Alli, besides, you having her wand will probably help you get into character,’ said Tracey. ‘Just try and channel the actions of the wand.’

‘I don’t really want to do that at all if I can avoid it,’ admitted Allison. ‘This wand has hurt so many, including people we know. It hurt you, tortured poor Neville’s parents into insanity, and this is the wand that killed Sirius!’

Harry had not thought of that: He looked down at the wand and was visited by a brutal urge to snap it into several pieces, then burn what remained in the hottest fire he could make.

‘Sorry,’ said Allison when she saw Harry’s expression, ‘I just miss my old wand, my mother spent days working on it for me when I was about to turn eleven. I worked hard on my new one, but it just isn’t the same.’

‘I miss mine too, I hate the thought of it still being at Malfoy Manor, possibly being used by Bellatrix as a replacement for this one,’ said Tracey holding up the walnut wand.

‘Mine as well,’ said Theodore. ‘But maybe when this is all over Mr Ollivander will make the three of us new wands too, maybe you too Allison if you want.’

Mr Ollivander had sent Luna a new wand that morning. She was out on the back lawn at that moment, testing its capabilities in the late afternoon sun. Dean, who had lost his wand to the Snatchers, was watching rather gloomily.

Harry looked down at the hawthorn wand that had once belonged to Draco Malfoy. He had been surprised, but pleased to discover that it worked for him at least as well as Tracey’s had done. Remembering what Ollivander had told them of the secret workings of wands, Harry thought he knew what Tracey’s problem was: She had not won the walnut wand’s allegiance by taking it personally from Bellatrix, Allison had, and the little disarming stunt she had made Tracey do hadn’t broken the wands loyalty.

The door of the bedroom opened and Griphook entered. Harry reached instinctively by rolling his eyes, but regretted his action at once. He could tell that the goblin had noticed. Seeking to gloss over the sticky moment, he said, ‘We’ve just been checking the last-minute stuff, Griphook. We’ve told Tonks and Tulip we’re leaving tomorrow, and we’ve told them not to get up to see us off.’

They had been firm on this point, because Allison needed to transform in Bellatrix before they left and Theodore take a large dose of Aging Potion, and the less that Tonks and Tulip knew or suspected about what they were about to do, the better. They had also explained that they would not be returning. As they had lost Theodore’s tent on the night that the Snatcher’s caught them, Tonks had lent them another one. It was now packed inside the purse, which, Allison had snatched back before they Apparated away from Malfoy Manor. They said their goodbyes early in the evening of the night before, it was hard, but necessary.

Though he would miss Tonks, Tulip, Luna, Dean, and baby Teddy, not to mention the home comforts they had enjoyed over the last couple weeks, Harry was looking forward to escaping the confinement of the cottage. He was tired of trying to make sure that they were not overheard, tired of being shut in the tiny, dark bedroom. Most of all, he longed to be rid of Griphook.

However, precisely when they would part from the Goblin after successfully entering Bellatrix’s vault was still unknown. It had been impossible to decide when that would be, because the goblin rarely left Harry, Theodore, Allison, and Tracey alone together for more than five minutes at a time. With Bill’s warning in mind, Harry could not help suspecting that Griphook was planning something.

Harry slept badly that night. Lying awake in the early hours, he thought back to the way he had felt the night before they had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic and remembered a determination, almost an excitement. Now he was experiencing jolts of anxiety nagging doubts: He could not shake off the fear that it was all going to go wrong. He kept telling himself that their plan was good, that Griphook knew what they were facing, that they were well-prepared for all the difficulties they were likely to encounter, yet still he felt uneasy. Once or twice he heard Theodore stir and was sure that he too was awake, but they were sharing the sitting room with Dean, so Harry did not speak.

It was a relief when six o’clock arrived and they could slip out of their sleeping bags, dress in the semidarkness, Theodore took the potion he had made, then creep out into the garden, where they were to meet Allison, Tracey, and Griphook.

The dawn was chilly, but there was little wind now that it was May. Harry looked up at the stars still glimmering palely in the dark sky and listened to the wind whistling through the forest and nearby farmlands: He was going to miss the sound.

Small green shoots were forcing their way up through the red earth of Dobby’s grave now, in a year’s time the mound would be covered in flowers. The white stone that bore the elf’s name had already acquired a weathered look. He realized now that they could hardly have laid Dobby to rest in a more beautiful place, but Harry ached with sadness to think of leaving him behind. Looking down on the grave, he wondered yet again how the elf had known where to come to rescue them. His fingers moved absentmindedly to the little pouch still strung around his neck, thorough which he could feel the jagged mirror fragment in which he had been sure he had seen Dumbledore’s eye. Then the sound of a door opening made him look around.

Bellatrix Lestrange was striding across the lawn toward them, accompanied by Griphook and Tracey who tucked her purse into her robe’s pocket. Griphook had a small bag over his shoulder currently holding the tiara and would carry the helmet once they entered the vault. Allison was wearing the black Snatcher-like robes she had worn when she had saved him from the locket. Though Harry knew perfectly well that it was really his girlfriend, he could not suppress a shiver of loathing.

She was taller than he was, her long curly black hair rippling down her back, her heavily lidded eyes disdainful as they rested upon him; but then she spoke, and he could hear some of Allison’s mannerisms through Bellatrix’s low voice.

‘She tastes absolutely revolting, I was afraid that I would throw the potion back up. Oh Theo, you look terrible too…’

‘I feel terrible too.’

Harry looked to his foster brother and saw that the large dose of Aging Potion had taken effect. Theodore was now sporting silvery white hair and matching long beard, and had a weathered old face covered in liver spots. He greatly resembled his father, but unlike Allison’s disguise it wasn’t perfect. His eyes weren’t quite the same shape as his father's, and Theodore’s skin was a couple shades darker. To combat this he was wearing very old robes taken from Orion Black’s closet in Grimmauld Place, and a black fancy cloak with a hood that he now pulled up to encase his head in partial shadow.

So Theodore and Allison were supposed to go in as Morgan Nott and Bellatrix Lestrange, and they were trusting to the malevolent aura cast by Bellatrix to protect her and Theo. Meanwhile Harry, Tracey, and Griphook were to be concealed under the Invisibility Cloak.

‘How do I look?’ asked Allison.

‘Not my type, but it’s what’s on the inside that counts,’ said Harry cheekily. ‘You both look the part. Shall we go, then?’

All four of them glanced back at Shell Cottage, lying dark and silent under the fading stars, then turned and began to walk toward the point, just beyond the boundary wall, where the Fidelius Chard stopped working and they would be able to Disapparate. Once past the gate, Griphook spoke.

‘I should climb up now, Harry Potter, I think?’

Harry bent down and the goblin clambered onto his back, his hands linked on front of Harry’s throat. He was not heavy, but Harry disliked the feeling of the goblin and the surprising strength with which he clung on. Tracey pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of her purse and threw it over herself, Harry, and Griphook.

‘Brilliant,’ said Theodore, slowly bending down to check Harry and Tracey’s feet. ‘You three are completely invisible. We’re ready.’

Harry turned on the spot, with Griphook on his shoulders and Tracey holding onto his arm, concentrating with all his might on the Leaky Cauldron, the inn that was the entrance to Diagon Alley. The goblin clung even tighter as they moved into the compressing darkness, and seconds later Harry’s feet found pavement and he opened his eyes on Charing Cross Road. Muggles bustled past wearing the hangdog expressions of early morning, quite unconscious of the little inn’s existence.

The bar of the Leaky Cauldron was nearly deserted. Tom, the kind stooped and toothless landlord, was polishing glasses behind the bar counter miserably; a couple of warlocks having a muttered conversation in the far corner glanced at Allison and Theodore and drew back into the shadows.

‘Madam Lestrange, Mr Nott,’ murmured Tom, and as the two paused he inclined his head subserviently. This seemed to take Allison off guard.

‘Morning,’ she said, and as Harry crept past with Tracey, still carrying Griphook piggyback under the Cloak, he saw Tom look surprised.

‘She is a cruel witch, you have to be convincing,’ Harry heard Theodore whisper as they all passed out of the Inn into the tiny backyard. ‘My voice will give me away, so you have to do the talking for the both of us.’

‘She’s doing the best she can,’ whispered back Tracey.

‘No he’s right, I was being stupid. I can’t just play off of what others say,’ said Allison, agreeing with Theodore. ‘I have to give responses that match what she would do.

Allison drew out Bellatrix’s wand and rapped a brick in the nondescript wall in front of them. At once the bricks began to whirl and spin: A hole appeared in the middle of them, which grew wider and wider, finally forming an archway onto the narrow cobbled street that was Diagon Alley.

It was quiet, barely time for the shops to open, and there were hardly any shoppers abroad. The crooked, cobbled street was much altered now from the bustling place Harry had visited before his first term at Hogwarts so many years before. More shops than ever were boarded up, though several new establishments dedicated to the Dark Arts had been created since his last visit. Harry’s own face glared down at him from posters plastered over many windows, always captioned with the words:

“Undesirable Number One!”

A number of ragged people sat huddled in doorways. He heard them moaning to the few passersby, pleading for gold, insisting that they were really wizards. One man had a bloody bandage over his eye.

As they set off along the street, the beggars glimpsed Allison and Theodore. They seemed to melt away before them, drawing hoods over their faces and fleeing as fast as they could. Theodore looked after them curiously, until the man with the bloodied bandage came staggering right across her path.

‘My children,’ he bellowed, pointing at her. His voice was cracked, high-pitched, he sounded distraught. ‘Where are my children? What has he done with them? You know, you know!’

‘Er–excuse me—‘ said Allison with some attitude, but Harry could tell there was still some hesitation in her voice.

The man lunged at her, reaching for her throat. Then, with a bang and a burst of red light he was thrown backward onto the ground, unconscious. Theodore stood there, Wormtail’s wand still outstretched, and even behind the shadow of his hood Harry could tell it pained him to stun an innocent man.

Faces appeared at the windows on either side of the street, while a little knot of prosperous-looking passerby gathered their robes about them and broke into gentle trots, keen to vacate the scene. Their entrance into Diagon Alley could hardly have been more conspicuous; for a moment Harry wondered whether it might not be better to leave now and try to think of a different plan. Before they could move or consult one another, however, they heard a cry from behind them.

‘Why, Nott, Madam Lestrange!’

Harry whirled around and Griphook tightened his hold around Harry’s neck: A tall, thin wizard with a crown of bushy gray hair and a long, sharp nose was striding toward them.

‘It’s Travers,’ hissed the goblin into Harry’s ear, but at that moment Harry could not think who Travers was. Allison had drawn herself up to full height and said with as much contempt as she could muster:

‘It’s early, what do you want?’

Travers stopped in his tracks, clearly affronted.

‘He’s another Death Eater!’ breathed Griphook, and Harry sidled sideways to repeat the information into the other two’s ears.

‘I merely sought to greet you both,’ said Travers coolly, ‘but if my presence is not welcome…’

Harry recognized his voice now: Travers was one of the Death Eaters who had been summoned to Xenophilius’ house.

‘No, you may walk with us if you wish,’ said Allison as calmly as she could, trying to cover up her mistake. ‘What is on your mind?’

‘Well, I confess I am surprised to see you out and about, Bellatrix.’

‘And why is that?’ asked Allison.

‘Well,’ Travers coughed, ‘I heard that the Inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined to the house, after the…ah…escape.’

Harry willed his two friends to keep their heads. If this was true, and Bellatrix was not supposed to be out in public, then they were potentially in great danger. Thankfully Allison and Theodore were the right people for the job.

‘Ha!’ cackled Theodore sarcastically.

‘For my impenitent brother-in-law and his Half-breed son perhaps,’ said Allison in a magnificent imitation of Bellatrix’s most contemptuous manner. ‘I am the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant however. That gives me privileges you can not fathom. It would do you good not to believe every rumour you hear.’

Though the Death Eater looked offended, he also seemed less suspicious. He glanced down at the man Theodore had just Stunned.

‘How did it offend you?’

‘It tried to talk to me when it should have known it was the dirt beneath my feet,’ said Allison coolly.

‘Some of these wandless can be troublesome,’ said Travers. ‘While they do nothing but beg I have no objection, but one of them actually asked me to plead her case in the Ministry last week. "I’m a witch, sir, I’m a witch, let me prove it to you!”’ he said in a squeaky impersonation. ‘As if I was going to give her my wand—but whose wand,’ said Travers curiously, ‘are you using at the moment, Bellatrix? I heard that your own was—‘

‘I have my wand here,’ said Allison coldly, holding up Bellatrix’s wand. ‘You have been played for a fool, Travers, all this misinformation fed to you that you didn’t think twice about.’

Travers seemed a little taken aback at that, and he turned instead to Theodore.

‘And why are you out and about so early today, Nott.’

‘Humph,’ Theodore grumbled, hoping his nonverbal response would be intimidating enough for Travers not to speak to him again.

‘Same as you, bothering me as I try and go about my business,’ said Allison, bringing the attention back to herself.

‘Er-so what does brings you and to Diagon Alley this early?’ asked Travers.

‘I need to visit Gringotts,’ said Allison simply.

‘Alas, I also,’ said Travers. ‘Gold, filthy gold! We cannot live without it, yet I confess I deplore the necessity of consorting with our long-fingered friends.’

Harry felt Griphook’s clasped hands tighten momentarily around his neck.

‘Shall we?’ said Travers, gesturing the other two forward.

They had no choice, Theodore gave a half nod to Travers, and then they both fell into step beside him and head along the crooked, cobbled street toward the place where the snowy-white Gringotts stood towering over the other little shops. Harry, Tracey, and Griphook followed.

A watchful Death Eater was the very last thing they needed, and the worst of it was, with Travers matching at what he believed to be Bellatrix’s side, there was no safe means for Harry to communicate with Allison or Theodore. All too soon they arrived at the foot of the marble steps leading up to the great bronze doors. As Griphook had already warned them, the liveried goblins who usually flanked the entrance had been replaced by two wizards, both of whom were clutching long thin golden rods.

‘Ah, Probity Probes,’ signed Travers theatrically, ‘so crude—but so effective!’

And he set off up the steps, nodding left and right to the wizards, who raised the golden rods and passed them up and down his body. The Probes, Harry knew, detected spells of concealment and hidden magical objects. Knowing that they had only seconds, Harry pointed Draco’s wand at the guard on the left and Tracey did the same with the one on the right, and each each of the guards in turn and murmured, ‘Confundo’. Unnoticed by Travers, who was looking through the bronze doors at the inner hall, each of the guards gave a little start as the spells hit them.

Allison’s long curly black hair rippled behind her as she climbed the steps.

‘One moment, madam,’ said the guard, raising his Probe.

‘Why, you’ve already scanned us!’ said Allison in Bellatrix’s commanding, arrogant voice. Travers looked around, eyebrows raised. The guard was confused. He stared down at the thin golden Probe and then at his companion, who said in a slightly dazed voice, ‘Yeah, you’ve just checked them, Marius.’

Allison swept forward. Theodore by her side, Harry, Tracey and Griphook trotting invisibly behind them. Harry glanced back as they crossed the threshold. The wizards were both scratching their heads.

Two goblins stood before the inner doors, which were made of silver and which carried the poem warning of dire retribution to potential thieves. Harry looked up at it, and all of a sudden a knife-sharp memory came to him: standing on this very spot on the day that he had turned eleven, the birthday he first was allowed to access his own vault, a birthday where he, Canini, Remus, and Sirius had all been together…

Gringotts had seemed a place of wonder that day, learning the exact amount of the enchanted repository of a gold left to him from his birth parents, and never for an instant could he have dreamed that he would return to steal…But within seconds they were standing in the vast marble hall of the bank.

The long counter was manned by goblins sitting on high stools serving the first customers of the day. Allison, Theodore, and Travers headed toward an old goblin who was examining a thick gold coin through an eyeglass. Allison allowed Travers to step ahead of her on the pretext of having a private matter she wished to discuss with Theodore.

The goblin tossed the coin he was holding aside, said to nobody in particular, ‘Leprechaun,’ and then greeted Travers, who passed over a tiny golden key, which was examined and given back to him.

Allison stepped forward.

‘Madam Lestrange!’ said the goblin, evidently startled. ‘Dear me! How—how may I help you today?’

‘I wish to enter my vault,’ said Allison.

The old goblin seemed to recoil a little. Harry glanced around. Not only was Travers hanging back, watching, but several other goblins had looked up from their work to stare at Allison.

‘You have…identification?’ asked the goblin.

‘Identification? I hardly think that will be necessary!’ said Allison coldly and confidently.

‘They know!’ whispered Griphook in Harry’s ear, ‘They must have been warned there might be an imposter!’

‘Your wand will do, madam,’ said the goblin. He held out a slightly trembling hand, and in a dreadful blast of realization Harry knew that the goblins of Gringotts were aware that Bellatrix’s wand had been stolen.

‘Harry, we have to do something!’ whispered Tracey in a panic.

‘Act now, act now,’ whispered Griphook in Harry’s ear, ‘the Imperious Curse!’

Harry raised the hawthorn wand beneath the cloak, pointed it at the old goblin, and whispered, for the first time in his life, ‘Imperio!’

A curious sensation shot down Harry’s arm, a feeling of tingling, warmth that seemed to flow from his mind, down the sinews and veins connecting him to the wand and the curse it had just cast. The goblin took Bellatrix’s wand, examined it closely, and then said, ‘Ah, you have had a new wand made, Madam Lestrange!’

‘Er, pardon?’ said Allison, now quite confused.

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

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003840013

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003841380

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842029

Tags:

@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972 @Interested.me @Mega.mind.harry.potter

Chapter Twenty-Four: Family

Tonks and Tulip’s cottage was surrounded by thick forest and was the only property on the north side of the lake that Harry could see, it was a simple design and reminded him of Mould-On-The-Wold Cottage but with a more creative colour scheme. It was a lonely and beautiful place. Whenever Harry was outside the tiny cottage or its garden, he could hear the constant melody of wind off the trees and the surface of the small lake.

The afternoon after they had all been rescued by Dobby nearly everyone was resting, all except for Harry, Theodore, and Allison who still had work to do. Allison had managed to snag back Tracey’s purse before they escaped Malfoy Manor, which meant three out of four friends were researching what Griphook had meant by payment other than gold. It was past four when Theodore triumphantly held up his copy of A History of Magic.

‘I think I found it. According to this small passage about how the 1752 Goblin Rebellion started, Goblins view all goblin-made items as their own property. More specifically they view the rightful owner of a goblin object is the maker, not the purchaser. If the maker is no longer alive then the object belongs to all goblins. Any goblin made item bought by another creature they view as rented for that creature’s lifetime and should be returned upon that creature’s death.’

‘Alright, that’s brilliant and all,’ said Allison, ‘but how does that help us pay Griphook. Does anyone have any goblin made items whose human owners are now dead in their possession that we didn’t know about until now.’

‘Ha ha, no,’ said Theodore mockingly in response to her sarcasm. ‘I’m certain however that we can find one…eventually.’

They sat quietly for a minute, then Harry remembered something and stood up.

‘Where are you going?’ asked Allison.

‘You two get some rest now, I think I have this figured out. I’m going to go call in a favour.’

Harry made his way to the kitchen where he found Tonks sitting at the kitchen island preparing dinning by magic while simultaneously writing a letter by hand.

‘You out of everybody should be resting,’ said Harry calmly as he sat down next to her.

‘This baby is keeping me awake anyway, so I might as well make food for everyone for when they wake up,’ said his beloved cousin as she looked up from her letter.

‘Thank you for everything, by the way. I know right now you probably want to focus on preparing for you and Tulip’s baby.’

‘We spent the last seven months preparing, we’re already as ready as we’re going to be. Harry, don’t ever worry about coming to me for help, I will always be there for you if you need me.’

This managed to get a small smile out of him, probably his very first since the last Potterwatch broadcast.

‘Who are you writing?’

‘My mum, despite everything that has just happened I still received an owl from her just now asking if she could still come over tonight for an Easter supper. As much as I wish I could see her right now I think for today we all just need to rest and heal,’ she paused, then sighed. ‘I think in reality she wants to see me as much as possible because she really is missing dad…’

Harry’s face drooped, and some tears welled up in Tonks’ eyes.

‘I’m really sorry about your dad. I was heartbroken when I heard on Potterwatch.’

‘I miss him dreadfully, but your friend Dean’s arrival has brought me comfort. He told me that when the Snatchers found all of them it was Dirk Cresswell and my father who fended them off to give Dean and the goblins time to escape, although the other goblin didn’t make it. My dad died a hero, even though Dean and Griphook got captured a few days later, he bought them enough time to have run into you guys which led to their freedom.’

‘Then you should be very proud.’

‘I already was,’ she said, letting the tears run down her face.

Harry allowed Tonks a moment to recompose herself and send her letter, before asking her for the help he needed.

‘I need you to send another message. Can the Patronus messenger go long range?’

‘I don’t know if it can reach far away countries, but it should be able to be received by its target anywhere in the UK. Why, who do you need to send a message to?’

‘Fleur Weasley. Tell her I’m calling in a favour for saving her sister’s life,’ that was not, strictly speaking, true, as Gabrielle had never been in real danger, but neither Harry nor Fleur had known that at the time and so Harry’s actions in saving her had been genuine. ‘Tell her I need her to send Muriel Prewett’s goblin-made tiara here, that it will be returned if possible, but there is a chance it won’t.’

And Tonks nodded.

Harry spent much of the next couple days making excuses to escape the crowded cottage, walking along the shore of the quiet lake, distant farm land under work, the cool spring breeze that swept through the trees as well as across his face. The enormity of his decision not to race Voldemort to the wand still scared Harry. He could not remember, ever before, choosing not to act. He was full of doubts, doubts that Tracey could not help voicing whenever they were together.

‘What if Dumbledore wanted us to work out the symbol in time to get the wand?’ ‘What if working out what the symbol meant made you “worthy” to get the Hallows?’ ‘Harry, if that really is the Elder Wand, how in the world are we supposed to finish off You-Know-Who?’

Harry had no answers: There were moments when he wondered whether it had been outright madness not to try to prevent Voldemort breaking open the tomb. He could not even explain satisfactorily why he had decided against it: Every time he tried to reconstruct the internal arguments that had led to his decision, they sounded feebler to him.

The odd thing was that Theodore’s support made him feel just as confused as Tracey’s doubts. Now forced to accept that the Elder Wand was real, he maintained that it was an evil object, and that the way Voldemort had taken possession of it was repellent, not to be considered.

‘How would you have prevented it anyway, Harry?’ he said over and over again. ‘Would you have broken into Dumbledore’s tomb and taken the wand before he arrived. Would you have been able to do that?’

But the idea of Dumbledore’s corpse frightened Harry much less than the possibility that he might have misunderstood the living Dumbledore’s intentions. He felt that he was still grasping in the dark; he had chosen his path but kept looking back, wondering whether he had misread the signs, whether he should not have taken the other way. It was only Allison who understood he needed moments alone away from everyone else, anytime the other two began asking him to many questions she would intervene and help him gain half an hour or so alone.

From time to time, anger at Dumbledore crashed over Harry again, powerful as the waves slamming themselves against the cliff beneath the cottage, anger that Dumbledore had not explained before he died.

‘If he’s truly dead,’ said Tracey the morning of the second day after they had arrived at the cottage. They had just begun eating breakfast, no one but the four were currently awake, and Harry had been staring out at the wall that separated the garden from the forest.

‘Trace, you’re my best friend, but that’s insane!’

‘Maybe, but think about it,’ said Tracey, speaking across Harry, who continued to gaze at the wall and the forest. ‘His Deluminator bringing you back to us. The silver doe. Me finding the fang when I thought about Dumbledore. The blue eye Harry saw in the mirror—‘

‘But Tracey, Harry admitted that the stress from the situation could have made him imagine them!’ said Theodore. ‘Right, Harry?’

‘I could have,’ said Harry without looking at him.

‘But is that really what you believe?’ asked Tracey.

‘No, I don’t,’ said Harry.

‘That’s what I thought,’ whispered Tracey quickly, before Allison gave her a dirty look. She looked hesitant, but continued. ‘But if it wasn’t Dumbledore who sent Dobby, then how did he know not only where we were, but that you were in the cellar?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Theodore, ‘but how could Dumbledore have sent it when he is dead encased in marble at Hogwarts?’

‘Perhaps it was his ghost?’ suggested Tracey.

‘Dumbledore wouldn’t come back as a ghost,’ said Harry. There was little about Dumbledore he was sure of now, but he knew that much. ‘He would have gone on.’

‘Sorry? “Gone on”?’ asked Tracey.

But before Harry or Allison could put an end to the constant questions for now, an owl flew through the open kitchen window and dropped a medium sized package in front of Harry along with a note.

“Grateful to help. All the luck.

Bien à vous,

Fleur”

Opening the package he found a worn velvet case, and inside was the tiara. Upon closer inspection from how he had seen it at the wedding Harry see how the silver had a unique shimmer that regular silver did not.

‘This should hopefully do it,’ Harry let out in a breath of relief.

‘Goodness, how beautiful,’ said the voice of Luna Lovegood who had appeared behind them.

‘Oh, morning Luna, didn’t see you there,’ said Allison.

‘Daddy’s made a tiara,’ piped up Luna, ‘Well, more of a crown, really.’

Tracey and Harry just looked at each other. Harry knew that she was remembering the ludicrous headdress they had seen on their visit to Xenophilius.

‘Yes, he’s trying to re-create the lost diadem of Ravenclaw. He thinks he’s identified most of the main elements now. Adding the billywig wings really made a difference.’

‘Yes, we saw it, it was quite…interesting,’ said Theodore. ‘Listen, Luna, we have to go upstairs for a bit. Enjoy breakfast.’

They made their way upstairs to the tiniest of the cottage’s three bedrooms, carrying with them the small velvet case. Harry knocked and Griphook beckoned them to come. He had drawn the red cotton curtains against the bright, cloudy sky, which gave the room a fiery glow at odds with the rest of the airy, light cottage.

‘I have reached my decision, Harry Potter,’ said the goblin, who was sitting cross-legged in a low chair, drumming its arms with his spindly fingers. ‘Though the goblins of Gringotts will consider it base treachery, I have decided to help you…for a price.’

‘That’s great!’ said Harry, further relief surging through him. ‘Griphook, thank you, we’re really—‘

‘—What,’ said the goblin firmly, ‘are you prepared to offer me.’

Harry held out the case and opened it. Griphook’s black eyes glittered; there were no whites to his eyes.

‘Moonstones and diamonds, goblin made, very impressive,’ said Griphook, and Harry’s heart raised. ‘However I know of the witch who paid for this, she is still alive. I will not accept an item that is still under lease.’

Harry’s spirits plummeted. He was about to panic, this was the only goblin-made item of value he could acquire, what was he going to do n—

‘What do you mean Muriel Prewett is alive?’ said Allison, stoic as ever. ‘She died of old age on September first, it was one of the few deaths the Daily Prophet actually reported.’

There was silence for a moment, Harry felt as though his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Then Griphook raised an eyebrow.

‘I do not read Wizarding papers, and I lost contact with the magical world soon after that date,’ said Griphook. ‘Is it true that the witch who possessed the tiara is now dead?’

‘Yes,’ said Theodore, backing up Allison’s story. ‘She was over a hundred and nine years old, the stress of the war was too much for her.’

Tracey frowned at the floor while Allison and Theodore were speaking; Harry felt irritated at her, afraid that she might give the game away. However, Griphook had eyes for nobody but Harry.

‘Hum,’ mumbled Griphook. ‘Very well, I will accept the tiara as payment.’

He held out his hand, but Harry did not give it to him.

‘You will receive the tiara as collateral, but the Weasley family wants the tiara back,’ explained Harry. ‘Once we’re inside the vault we’ll take the tiara back and you can take as much of the treasure inside as you—‘

Harry had said the wrong thing. Griphook flushed angrily.

‘I am not a thief, boy! I am not trying to procure treasures to which I have no right!’

‘But goblin treasure does not belong to any witch or wizard after they die, and I am certain there are some goblin artifacts in the vault that long predate Bellatrix or her husband,’ said Tracey quickly, possibly trying to make up for almost giving them away. ‘Besides, this is the vault of the woman who tortured us both, I would think you would be happy to gain a small amount of revenge.’

‘The silver helmet of Urg the Unclean and his men, great goblin revolutionaries, does lay uselessly in that vault,’ said Griphook slowly. ‘Very well. I have your word, Harry Potter, that you will give me now the tiara in agreement for helping you, and I shall return it and take the helmet once we’re inside the vault?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry.

‘Then hand over the tiara and shake,’ said the goblin, holding out his hand.

Harry did as he was told and took his hand and shook. He wondered whether those black eyes saw any misgivings in his own. Then Griphook relinquished him, clapped his hands together, and said, ‘So. We beg—‘

‘Errrg!’ came a loud moan from across the hall.

‘What was that?’ said Tracey.

The four friends exited the room and ran into Tulip exiting her and Tonks’ bedroom. She looked equally parts excited and equal parts terrified.

‘Is everything ok?’ asked Harry.

‘It’s time!’ she said in rapid speed. ‘Tonks is having the baby!’

‘Tonks-baby-‘ Harry’s brain just short-circuited.

‘Oh my goodness, oh my goodness,’ began Tracey.

‘Will she have to go to St. Mungo’s?’ asked Theodore.

‘It’s under Ministry control, too dangerous. I’m going to go fetch Chiara Lobosca,’ said Tulip as she quickly walked to the stairs. Another of Tonks’ moans could be heard coming from her room. ‘In the meantime, Allison you are the only one with a level head, go downstairs and get a bottle of Wiggenweld Potion, a bowl of hot water, and some towels. Keep her comfortable until I get back.’

Tulip was right to put Allison in charge, because Harry, Theodore, and Tracey continued to freak out while they waited for Tulip’s return, and once Luna and Dean figured out what was going on they joined in on the freaking out party in the living room. About a half-hour later Tulip returned with Chiara and a medical bag and the two went upstairs into Tonks’ room and Allison came back down.

The group became more calm as the day progressed. That didn’t stop the nerves however, Harry was pretty sure he did more walking that day as he paced around the house as he had going across the country the last seven months. They could hear Chiara, Tulip, and especially Nymphadora upstairs, but didn’t know how it was going.

It was only just before the sun began to set that a fourth sound entered the mix in the form of a new born’s cry, and shortly after Chiara came back downstairs.

‘It’s a healthy baby boy!’ she announced.

‘A boy, a baby boy!’ said Theodore as though he had never heard of such a thing.

‘How wonderful!’ said Allison, a wide smile on her face.

‘Babies born in April are exceptionally unpredictable,’ Luna said mystically as though reciting a rhyme.

‘When can we see them?’ asked Harry. He was eager to see the new life his cousin and her wife had created.

‘They are all resting right now and probably won’t want to be seen until morning,’ said Chiara as she put on her travelling cloak, ‘except for you Harry, they’d like to see you if you’re up to it.’

‘Oh?’ said Harry.

He made his way upstairs. Compared to the noise that had been coming from this floor most of the day it was now almost completely silent. He knocked on the door quietly, afraid of waking up the baby if it was asleep. Thankfully no crying followed his knock, but a soft, ‘Come in, Harry.’

He entered, and found the two women sitting upright on the bed. Tulip on top of the covers, and Tonks looking exhausted was under the covers while holding a tiny baby swaddled in a turquoise blanket. It was in that moment that Harry realized he didn’t know what to do, he had survived encounters with Voldemort five times, but when it came to his cousin holding her newborn baby he just stood there.

‘Er, congratulations Tonks,’ he managed to get out. ‘It’s a boy, um, right?’

Both Tonks and Tulip laughed.

‘Come over here Harry, it’s ok,’ said Tonks while gesturing with her head to approach.

He got over his nerves and practically ran over to the bed and down on its edge next to Tonks. He gave her a one arm hug, then looked down at the new life she had brought into the world. The baby had some pretty chubby cheeks for a new born, deep dark brown eyes like Tulip, and a wisp of mousy brown hair like Tonks did when she was born.

‘He’s adorable, and has your natural hair,’ said Harry with a smile.

‘Right now he does,’ said Tulip, and Harry looked up as she spoke, ‘but when he first came out it was tomato-red like mine.’

‘What…’ began Harry, and sure enough when he looked back at the baby it was now sporting jet black hair and emerald green eyes. ‘He’s a Metamorphmagus! Incredible!’

‘Yes, very incredible,’ said Tulip, kissing her wife on her temple.

‘We’ve chosen a name,’ said Tonks, in a serine tone.

‘Oh, let’s hear it,’ said Harry.

‘Well, we both lost our fathers in recent months, I also lost Mad-eye who was my beloved mentor, so while we admit it is a little silly we have chosen Edward Asahi-Alastor Karasu-Tonks,’ said Tonks. She then quickly added, ‘But we’ll be calling him Teddy for the most part.’

‘I think they would all be honoured,’ said Harry.

He once again looked down at the little baby and smiled. Harry wasn’t sure if he had felt this genuinely happy since Allison saved his life from the locket Horcrux.

‘If you think it’s safe, we’re planning on inviting Tonks’ mum and your dad and sister over tomorrow to meet the baby,’ said Tulip, now a little more serious.

‘Er, yes, it should be,’ said Harry, now a little too overwhelmed with emotions to think about the fact that meant he’d be seeing them for the first time in eight months. ‘They’ll know how to arrive safely.’

‘Just to be safe though we won’t be inviting the godmother, my best friend Merula, until things cool down here,’ continued Tulip. ‘Although we will be sending her pictures.’

‘And the godfather?’ Harry said absentmindedly.

Tonks and Tulip smiled at each other once more before Tonks spoke.

‘Will you be the godfather?’ she said with complete joy and sincerity.

‘M–me?’ stammered Harry.

‘Of course you—Flower and I have long been in agreement about that. There is no one we would want more.’

‘I—yeah—blimey—‘

Harry felt overwhelmed, astonished, and delighted. Godfather, he couldn’t believe it. Right then and there he promised to himself to be just as loving and reckless of a godfather to Teddy Karasu-Tonks as Sirius Black had been to him.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur. That night most of the household did not get much sleep, both from adrenaline and the fact that there was a crying newborn baby in the house. By the following morning everyone was an odd combination of exhausted and jittery, all except for Griphook who was just simply grouchy.

Harry had forgotten that Tulip had mentioned they would be receiving guests up until the moment that there was a bang on the front door at exactly twelve o’clock.

Everyone’s head turned toward it. Tulip came running out of the kitchen, despite it being expected they all still had to be cautious; Tonks was sitting on an armchair in the living room holding a wrapped up Teddy close in her arms; Harry held his hand over his pocket that contained Draco’s wand, Theodore and Tracey did the same. Silently Griphook slipped beneath the table, out of sight.

‘Who is there?’ asked Tulip.

‘It is I, Remus John Lupin!’ called out the familiar voice. Harry’s heart spread up. ‘I am accompanied by my daughter Canini Cesario Howling, and the mother of Nymphadora, Andromeda Irma Tonks. Dora, the Secret-Keeper of Shell Cottage, told us the address so that we could today and celebrate!’

Satisfied in the answer, Tulip wrenched the door open.

Remus, Canini, and Andromeda fell over the threshold. The stress of the war and the death of her husband must have taken its toll, as Andromeda finally had her first strands of grey hair, though it was nothing compared to Remus who now had more grey than light brown. Over the last eight months Canini must have felt she needed a change, as she had cut her incredibly long hair back down to just past shoulder length. They straightened up, looked around the room, making sure of who was there, then Remus and Canini sprinted across the room and nearly tackled Harry and Theodore in a hug.

‘You’re ok, you’re ok, you’re actually ok,’ Remus muttered over and over again in near disbelief.

Canini already had tears rolling down her scarred cheeks, ‘I missed you two so much!’ she managed.

‘I missed you guys too,’ said Theodore between sobs.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, to also relate his gratitude for being able to see them again, but it was in that moment that just how badly in his heart he had missed them washed over him that he too was reduced to uncontrollable sobs. The surrounding world disappeared, Harry had even forgotten that other people were present, because for the duration of them all crying the world was only made up of this small broken family that had finally been reunited. It was only when they had all gotten it out of their system that the world came back into focus.

‘It’s good to see you two alright,’ said Remus as they all separated. ‘You four I should say. And Harry, Theo, you could both go for a haircut and shave.’

‘Yeah, we’ll probably get on top of that soon. It’s just been…busy,’ expressed Theodore.

‘We’ll have plenty of time to talk about Theo’s incredibly messy hair later, right now I want to meet Teddy,’ said Canini in a cheerful manner Harry had so missed. She went over to Andromeda who was already holding the baby.

‘Yes, it’s time to celebrate!’ said Remus, pulling out from his robes a fancy looking bottle. ‘I’ve brought an eighty-three bottle of Italian Vermouth Bianco just for this occasion!’

The wind buffeted the little cottage and the fire leapt and crackled, and Tulip was soon opening another bottle of wine. The arrival of Teddy and the family reunion seemed to have taken them out of themselves, removed them for a while from their state of siege: Tidings of new life were exhilarating. Only the goblin seemed untouched by the suddenly festive atmosphere, and after a while he slunk back to the bedroom he now occupied alone. Harry thought he was the only one who had noticed this, until he saw Remus’ eyes following the goblin up the stairs.

As the girls plus Theodore now fawned over Tonks and the baby, Harry and Remus found themselves migrating alone to the kitchen. Some of the joy left and Harry now couldn’t help but think about the last time he had talked to his adoptive father in person.

‘About what happened in Grimmauld Place, I’m so—‘

‘Don’t apologize, Harry,’ said Remus as he cut him off. ‘I needed to hear every word. I was in turmoil, and instead of trying to deal with my problems I was running away from them, and in doing so running away from my responsibilities. Your words convinced me to take up the twins offer, and I was then able to make a difference while still being reasonably safe and could be there for Canini.’

‘So…you’re not mad?’

‘Mad? I am more proud of you and Theodore than I have ever been. I am honoured to have you both as my sons. And I know Teddy will eventually be honoured to have you as his godfather.’

Harry was at risk of tearing up again, but thankfully Remus changed the subject.

‘Now, tell me all that has happened, and don’t worry, I know you can’t tell me everything.’

And Harry got to spend the better part of the afternoon talking about all that had happened. He still wasn’t able to tell Remus about the Horcruxes, but he did tell him they had made progress on their mission. He also did not tell him about the Hallows, as he still felt ashamed about them. After discussing Allison’s departure and then return, Remus had a question.

‘And you still aren’t back together?’

‘I was overjoyed that she was back, but for a while I was still hurt that she had left and how she had done so, I just didn’t show it as much as Tracey.’

‘It sounds like she deeply regrets what she did. Let me ask you something, do you still love her?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry instantly, he didn’t need to think about that, not even a second.

‘Then I wouldn’t wait much longer to let her back into your heart. These are still very uncertain times. Love shouldn’t have to wait.’

Harry nodded, and then continued giving details on his adventures. When he got to the present he discussed that he had made a deal with Griphook, but not the details surrounding it. Remus’ face went dark.

‘I’m not sure if you know this, but shortly after I lost my job as an auror, I spent a month working as a guard at Gringotts. Even though I wasn’t there long, I got to know a lot about Goblins…’

‘What are you saying?’ Harry asked.

‘They aren’t human Harry, and they don’t think like one either,’ said Remus. ‘Deals made between wizards and Goblins have lead to some the bloodiest conflicts in both our histories. Both sides have wronged the other, it is true we are not innocent in this matter, but it has lead to goblins having a deep mistrust of us that persists to this day.’

‘But I respect gob—‘ Harry began, but Remus shook his head.

‘Harry, your heart is so big, it is a beautiful quality about you. But treating this goblin well isn’t actually going to change any decision he has already made about you. If you made a deal with him, and I suspect that would involve goblin-made items, then no matter what your agreement says he is going to view the objects as his.’

Harry had an ominous feeling now; he wondered whether Remus guessed more than he was letting on.

‘I just want you to be prepared,’ said Remus, as he stood up from the table. ‘Don’t ever think you know for sure what a goblin is thinking.’

With that foreboding conversation out of the way they all returned to celebrating the new life. Everyone told jokes and laughed, cooed over the new baby, and just got to enjoy each other’s company for the first time in months.

When it was time for the three of them to go, there were even more hugs, and a few tears shed. Just before leaving Remus pulled Harry, Theodore, Allison, and Tracey aside.

‘Dora has told me that she suspects you four won’t be staying here long term. While I want you to be safe, I know that your mission is important. So I’m going to wish you all the luck that I can, and just know that if you ever need me all you need to do is find a way to let me know and I’ll be there.’

Harry and Theodore hugged him and Canini one last time, and then the two of them plus Andromeda were off.

Slowly the days stretched onwards, and the gang resumed their planning with Griphook. It was like planning to break into the Ministry all over again. They settled to work in the smallest bedroom, which was kept, according to Griphook’s preference, in semidarkness.

‘I have visited the Lestranges’ vault only once,’ Griphook told them, ‘on the occasion I was told to place inside it the false sword. It is one of the most ancient chambers. The oldest Wizarding families store their treasures at the deepest level, where the vaults are largest and best protected…’

They remained shut in the cupboard-like room for hours at a time. There was problem after problem to overcome, not least of which was that their store of Polyjuice Potion was greatly depleted.

‘If we had a full month to spare I still likely wouldn’t be able to make more,’ Theodore signed. ‘Tulip has told me the shortage on Fluxweed is even worse now than it was eight months ago. As it stands we only have enough for one person.’

‘That’ll be enough, especially if you can make a temporary Aging Potion,’ said Harry, who was examining Griphook’s hand-drawn map of the deepest passageways.

The other inhabitants of the cottage could hardly fail to notice that something was going on now that Harry, Tracey, Theodore, and mostly Allison only emerged for mealtimes. Nobody asked questions, although Harry often felt Tonks’ eyes on the four of them at the table, thoughtful, concerned.

The longer they spent together, the more Harry realized that he did not much like the goblin. Griphook was unexpectedly bloodthirsty, laughed at the idea of pain in lesser creatures and seemed to relish the possibility that they might have to hurt other wizards to reach the Lestranges’ vault. Harry could tell that his distaste was shared by the other three, but they did not discuss it. Tonks once offered to move Tracey and Allison into Griphooks room, but they refused. Harry and the other three knew that Griphook would think poorly of having to sleep on the sofa; keeping Griphook happy was essential to their plans. They needed him.

The goblin ate only grudgingly with the rest of them. Even after his legs had mended, he continued to request trays of food in his room, like the still-frail Ollivander, until Dean (following a small breakdown from the exhausted Tulip) went upstairs on Tulip’s request to tell him that the arrangement could not continue. Thereafter Griphook joined them at the overcrowded table, although he refused to eat the same food, insisting, instead, on lumps of raw meat, roots, and various fungi.

Harry felt responsible: It was, after all, he who had insisted that the goblin remain at Tonks and Tulip’s cottage so that he could question him, but they insisted that they understood.

After his family’s departure, the only joyful day came a few days later. Harry had needed a break away from Griphook, and decided to have a short walk through the garden. When he reached the lake-side garden with blooming spring flowers, however, he heard some noise coming from behind the shed. He made his way over and found Allison sitting on a chair sanding a stick of light reddish-brown colour.

‘How is it coming?’ he asked, and she looked up and smiled.

‘I think I just finished actually. The dead cedar tree I found was still dry and strong so it was perfect to work with, I just sanded the small branch to shape I want, and Harry look,’ she stood up and held out a small jar, and inside was what looked like the wing of a dragon fly, but it was a deep purple and glittered in an unnatural way.

‘What is it?’ Harry asked genuinely.

‘Well, there aren’t really any Unicorns, Dragons, or Phoenixes in this forest, so I had to find another source of magic. The garden has had some fairies hanging around in it, and I managed to find an intact wing that I liked. While Mr Ollivander prefers to work with only the three superior cores, he said he’ll insert whatever magical core I can find. Once he does, all that will be left is for me to polish it.’

‘I’m so proud of you,’ Harry blurted out. Allison’s cheeks went pink.

‘Oh, um, thank you Harry.’

He was going to backtrack, mumble something and walk away, but he remembered what Remus had told him and decided to take a chance.

‘I really mean it, you have worked so hard on it this past week. I don’t think I could ever do what you have done,’ said Harry, and her smile grew even brighter. ‘I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’re so passionate, determined, and just incredible. I can’t imagine my life without you by my side. I know the last six months haven’t been easy, but would you be willing to give what we have another shot?’

Harry wasn’t sure what she would say, but in the end Allison didn’t say anything. Instead she closed the distance between herself and Harry, took his hands in hers, and kissed him. It was beautiful and sweet. Harry had nearly forgotten what kissing her was like. As they kissed, Harry took in the moment, so that he would always remember that the resumption of their relationship was associated with the essence of aloe vera and cedar dust.

‘I—‘ he began.

‘I love you too, Harry.’

By late afternoon, with the help of Ollivander, Allison had completed her wand, and she insisted Tracey disarm her to try and guarantee Bellatrix’ wand would respond to her. Recovered as much as he could, and his work at the cottage finished, Mr Ollivander began packing and panning his move to Andromeda’s home.

That evening, Luna and Dean entered with their arms full of firewood.

‘…and tiny little ears,’ Luna was saying, ‘a bit like hippo’s, Daddy says, only purple and hairy. And if you want to call them, you have to hum; they prefer a waltz, nothing too fast…’

Looking uncomfortable, Dean shrugged at Harry as he passed, following Luna into the combined dining and sitting room where Tracey, Allison, and Theodore were laying the dinner table, and Harry decided to join them.

‘...and if you ever come to our house I’ll be able to show you the horn, Daddy wrote to me about it but I haven’t seen it yet, because the Death Eaters took me from the Hogwarts Express and I never got home for Christmas,’ Luna was saying, as she and Dean relit the fire.

‘Luna, I’m really sorry, but I told you your home was destroyed,’ Allison called over to her.

‘By that very horn,’ continued Tracey. ‘It was from an Erumpent, not a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, it exploded—‘

‘Our home can be fixed, and it was definitely a Snorkack horn,’ said Luna serenely, ‘Daddy told me. It will probably have re–formed by now, they mend themselves, you know.’

Tracey shook her head and continued laying down forks as Tulip appeared, leading Mr Ollivander down the stairs. The wandmaker still looked exceptionally frail, and he clung to Tulip’s arm as the latter supported him, carrying a large suitcase.

‘I’m going to miss you, Mr Ollivander,’ said Luna, approaching the old man.

‘And I you, my dear,’ said Ollivander, patting her on the shoulder. ‘You were an inexpressible comfort to me in that terrible place.’

‘You’ll be missed,’ said Tonks, as she entered the kitchen with Teddy in her arms.

‘Thank you, I hope to see you all again, and I wish you the best of luck on each of your journeys.’

A strong wind gusted against the cottage windows as Tulip and Ollivander set off into the night. The rest of them squeezed in around the table; elbow to elbow and with barely enough room to move, they started to eat. The fire crackled and popped in the grate beside them. Tonks, Harry noticed, was merely playing with her food or feeding Teddy milk; she glanced at the window every few minutes; however, Tulip returned before supper was even finished, her long red hair tangled by the wind.

‘Everything went well,’ she told Tonks. ‘Ollivander is all settled in, your mum says hello. Remus and Canini send you all their love. They were all happy to hear everyone is still doing well.’

It was then, with them all sitting around the table and with love sent from the rest of his family, that Harry realized something. He wasn’t just hunting Horcruxes and trying to defeat Voldemort so that the wizarding world could be free, he was doing it so that he could have more moments like this with the ones he loved.

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

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003840013

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003841380

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@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972 @Interested.me @Mega.mind.harry.potter

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Wandmaker

It was like sinking into an old nightmare; for an instant Harry knelt again beside Dumbledore’s body at the foot of the tallest tower at Hogwarts, but in reality he was staring at a tiny body curled upon the grass, pierced by Bellatrix’s silver knife. Harry’s voice was still saying, 'Dobby...Dobby…’ even though he knew that the elf had gone where he could not call him back.

After a minute or so he realized that they had, after all, come to the right place, for here were Tulip and a very pregnant Tonks, Luna, Dean, and Theodore, gathering around him as he knelt over the elf.

‘Tracey,’ he said suddenly. ‘Where is she?’

‘Allison has brought her into the house,’ said Tonks. ‘Don’t worry about her, Harry, she’ll be ok.’

Harry looked back down at Dobby. He stretched out a hand and pulled the sharp blade from the elf’s body, then dragged off his own jacket and covered Dobby in it like a blanket.

A light wind was rushing between the trees and over the lake that was somewhere nearby; Harry listened to it while the others talked, discussing matters in which he could take no interest, making decisions, Dean carried the injured Griphook into the house, Tulip hurrying with them; now Tonks and Theodore were talking towards Harry, but he couldn’t hear them. He gazed down at the tiny body, and his scar prickled and burned, and in one part of his mind, viewed as if from the wrong end of a long telescope, he saw Voldemort punishing those they had left behind at the Malfoy Manor. His rage was dreadful and yet Harry’s grief for Dobby seemed to diminish it, so that it became a distant storm that reached Harry from across a vast, silent ocean.

‘I want to do it properly,’ were the first words of which Harry was fully conscious of speaking. ‘Not by magic. Have you got a spade?’ And shortly afterward he had set to work, alone, digging the grave in the place that Tonks had shown him at the centre of the garden, in a small clearing. He dug with a kind of fury, relishing the manual work, glorying in the non-magic of it, for every drop of his sweat and every blister felt like a gift to the elf who had saved their lives.

His scar burned, but he was master of the pain, he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate Harry now while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out…though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love.

On Harry dug, deeper and deeper into the hard, cold earth, subsuming his grief in sweat, denying the pain in his scar. In the darkness, with nothing but the sound of his own breath and the small waves of the lake to keep him company, the things that had happened at the Malfoys’ returned to him, the things he had heard came back to him, and understanding blossomed in the darkness…

The steady rhythm of his arms beat time with his thoughts. Hallows…Horcruxes…Hallows…Horcruxes…yet no longer burned with that weird, obsessive longing. Loss and fear had snuffed it out. He felt as though he had been slapped awake again.

Deeper and deeper Harry sank into the grave, and he knew where Voldemort had been tonight, and whom he had killed in the topmost cell of Nurmengard, and why…And he thought of Wormtail, dead because of one small unconscious impulse of mercy…Dumbledore had foreseen that…How much more had he known?

Harry lost track of time. He knew only that the darkness had lightened a few degrees when he was rejoined by Theodore and Allison.

‘How’s Tracey?’

‘She’s resting,’ said Allison. ‘Theo gave her some Calming Draught, and Tulip is watching over her.’

Harry had his retort ready for when they asked him why he had not simply created a perfect grave with his wand, but he did not need it. They jumped down into the hole he had made with spades of their own and together they worked in silence until the hole seemed deep enough.

Harry wrapped the elf more snugly in his jacket. Theodore sat on the edge of the grave and stripped off his shoes and socks, which he placed on the elf’s bare feet. Allison presented hand knitted mittens and hat that Harry knew were made by her mother, which Harry placed carefully upon Dolby’s hands and head, muffling his batlike ears.

‘We should close his eyes.’

Harry had not heard the others coming through the darkness. Tonks was wearing long maternity robes, Tulip a travelling cloak, from the pocket of which protruded a bottle of what Harry recognized to be Skele-Gro. Tracey was wrapped in a borrowed dressing gown, pale and unsteady on her feet; Theodore put an arm around her when she reached him. Dean had also come with a blanket around his shoulders. Luna, who was huddled in one of Tulip’s coats, crouched down and placed her fingers tenderly upon each of the elf’s eyelids, sliding them over his glassy stare.

‘There,’ she said softly. ‘Now he could be sleeping.’

Harry placed the elf into the grave, arranged his tiny limbs so that he might have been resting, then climbed out and gazed for the last time upon the little body. He forced himself not to break down as he remembered Dumbledore’s funeral, and the rows and rows of golden chairs, and the Minister of Magic in the front row, the recitation of Dumbledore’s achievements, the stateliness of the white marble tomb. He felt that Dobby deserved just as grand a funeral, and yet here the elf lay in the middle of a dormant garden in a roughly dug hole. He only somewhat registered that Allison was now by his side with her arms around him.

‘I think we ought to say something,’ piped up Luna. ‘I’ll go first, shall I?’

And as everybody looked at her, she addressed the dead elf at the bottom of the grave.

‘Thank you so much Dobby for rescuing me from that cellar. It’s so unfair that you had to die when you were so good and brave. I’ll always remember what you did for us. I hope you’re happy now.’

She turned and looked expectingly at Theodore, who cleared his throat and said in a thick voice, ‘Yes…thank you Dobby.’

‘Thanks,’ muttered Dean.

Harry swallowed. ‘Good bye Dobby, you were always there for me when in you most.’

It was all he could manage, but Luna had said it all for him. Tonks raised her wand, and the pile of earth beside the grave rose up into the air and fell neatly upon it, a small, reddish mound.

‘D’ya mind if I stay here a moment?’ he asked the others.

They murmured words he did not catch; Allison gave him a little squeeze and then let go, Harry felt gentle pats upon his back, and then they all traipsed back toward the cottage, leaving Harry alone beside the elf.

He looked around: There were a number of large white stones, smoothed by the lake, marking the edge of the flower beds. He picked up one of the largest and laid it, pillowlike, over the place where Dobby’s head now rested. He then felt in his pocket for a wand. There were two in there. He had forgotten, lost track; he could not now remember whose wands these were; he seemed to remember wrenching them out of someone’s hand. He selected the shorter of the two, which felt friendlier in his hand, and pointed it at the rock.

Slowly, under his murmured instruction, deep cuts appeared upon the rock’s surface. He knew that Theodore or Tracey could have done it more neatly, and probably more quickly, but he wanted to mark the spot as he had wanted to dig the grave. When Harry stood up again, the stone read:

“HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF.”

He looked at his handiwork for a few more seconds, then walked away, his scar still prickling a little, and his mind full of those things that had come to him in the grave, ideas that had taken shape in the darkness, ideas both fascinating and terrible.

They were all sitting in the living room when he entered the little hall, their attention focused upon Tonks, who was talking. The room was a light coloured blue, pretty, with a small fire of fresh firewood burning brightly in the hearth. Harry did not want to drop mud upon the carpet, so he stood in the doorway, listening.

‘…lucky that Canini was expelled over the summer. If she was at Hogwarts right now they would have taken her hostage before we could save her. Everyone should now be safe,’ she looked around and saw Harry standing there, her face softened. ‘Up until now You-Know-Who and his forces have mostly been leaving your family alone in hopes to catch you returning to them or us making contact with you, but after tonight we’re pretty sure he has become more desperate and more than willing to hurt us to get to you. I got Remus and Canini to move in with my mum and—don’t apologize,’ she added at the sight of Harry’s expression. ‘No matter what it was a matter of time before he targeted our family to get to you. And it’s all ok, everyone is safe.’

‘How are they protected?’ asked Harry.

‘Remus has cast a Fidelius Charm. Mum’s the Secret-Keeper. And back when Allison moved in with us I did the same here; I’m Secret-Keeper for this cottage. None of us should really leave the house, but mum, Remus, and myself haven’t really left our respective homes much these past few months anyway. Once Mr Ollivander and Griphook are recovered, we’ll have them move in with mum as well. There isn’t enough beds here, but she has two extra bedrooms not currently being used plus a pull-out couch. Flower has given Griphook some Skele-Gro for his legs so he’ll probably be ready to move in—‘

‘No,’ Harry said and Tonks looked startled. ‘I need both of them here. I need to talk to them. It’s important.’

He heard the authority of his own voice, the conviction, the voice of purpose that had come to him as he dug Dobby’s grave. All of their faces were turned toward him looking puzzled.

‘I’m going to wash,’ Harry told Tonks looking down at his hands still covered with mud and Dobby’s blood. ‘Then I’ll need to see them, straight away.’

He walked into the little kitchen, to the basin beneath a window overlooking the sea. Dawn was breaking over the horizon, shell pink and faintly gold, as he washed, again following the train of thought that had come to him in the dark garden…

Dobby would never be able to tell them who had sent him to the cellar, but Harry knew what he had seen. A piercing blue eye had looked out of the mirror fragment, and then help had come. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it. Harry dried his hands, impervious to the beauty of the scene outside the window and to the murmuring of the others in the sitting room. He looked out over the ocean and felt closer, this dawn, than ever before, closer to the heart of it all.

And still his scar prickled, and he knew that Voldemort was getting there too. Harry understood and yet did not understand. His instinct was telling him one thing, his brain quite another. The Dumbledore in Harry’s head smiled, surveying Harry over the tips of his fingers, pressed together as if in prayer.

You gave Allison the Deluminator…You understood her…You gave her a way back...And you understood Wormtail too…You knew there was a bit of regret there, somewhere...And if you knew them…What did you know about me, Dumbledore?

Am I meant to know but not to seek? Did you know how hard I’d feel that? Is that why you made it this difficult? So I’d have time to work that out?

Harry stood quite still, eyes glazed, watching the place where a bright gold ray of dazzling sun was rising over the horizon. Then he looked down at his clean hands and was momentarily surprised to see the cloth he was holding in them. He set it down and returned to the hall, and as he did so, he felt his scar pulse angrily, and then flashed across his mind, swift as the reflection of a dragonfly over water, the outline of a building he knew extremely well.

Tonks and Tulip were standing at the foot of the stairs.

‘I need to speak to Griphook and Ollivander,’ Harry said.

‘I don’t know, Harry,’ said Tulip. ‘You should wait. The goblin is in a lot of pain, and Mr Ollivander is incredibly weak—‘

‘I’m sorry,’ he said without heat, ‘but it can’t wait. I need to talk to them now. Privately—and separately. It’s urgent.’

‘Harry, I trust you and will do anything to help you, but could I please get an explanation on what has happened tonight and to you?’ asked Tonks, a deeply worried look on her face. You arrive randomly after eight months with your friends, a dead house-elf, your friend who fought with you in the Department of Mysteries, the boy and goblin who were with my father when he died, Tracey appears to have been tortured, and Allison and Theodore refuse to speak about anything without you—‘

‘We can’t tell you what we’re doing,’ said Harry flatly. ‘You’re in the Order, Tonks, you know Dumbledore left us a mission. We’re not supposed to talk about it to anyone else. I’ll tell you what I can when this is all done, but for this moment I have to focus on the mission.’

Tulip made an uneasy noise, but Tonks did not look at her; she was staring at Harry. Her round and exhausted face was hard to read. Finally, Tonks said, ‘Very well. Which one do you need to talk to first?’

Harry hesitated. He knew what hung on his decision. There was hardly any time left; now was the moment to decide: Horcruxes or Hallows?

‘Griphook,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll speak to Griphook first.’

His heart was racing as if he had been sprinting and had just cleared an enormous obstacle.

‘First door up here on the left,’ said Tonks, waddling as she lead the way.

Harry had walked up several steps before stopping and looking back.

‘I need you three as well!’ he called to Tracey, Allison, and Theodore, who had been skulking, half concealed, in the doorway of the sitting room.

They moved into the light, looking oddly relieved.

‘How are you?’ Harry asked Tracey. ‘You were amazing—coming up with that story when she was hurting you like that—‘ Tracey gave a weak smile as Allison gave her a one-armed squeeze.

‘What is your plan, Harry?’ Allison asked.

‘You’ll see. Come on.’

The four of them followed Tonks up the steep stairs onto a small landing. Four doors led off it.

‘Use this room,’ said Tonks, opening the door to her and Tulip’s room, it too had a view of the lake, now flecked with gold in the sunrise, in the corner a crib was set up. Harry moved to the window, turned his back on the spectacular view, and waited, his arms folded, his scar prickling. Tracey took the chair beside the dressing table; Theodore and Tracey stood on either side.

Tonks reappeared, carrying the little goblin, whom she set down carefully upon the bed. Griphook grunted thanks, and Tonks left, closing the door upon them all.

‘I’m sorry to take you out of bed,’ said Harry. ‘How are your legs?’

‘Painful,’ replied the goblin. ‘But mending.’

He was still holding Slytherin’s Locket, when he noticed Harry staring at it he tossed it to Tracey who just barely caught it.

‘I believe this is yours.’

‘Er, thanks,’ she muttered, and once again her small emerald locket was joined by the ancient broken one.

It was now, in proper lighting, that Harry finally got to have a good look at the goblin. He wore a strange look: half truculent, half intrigued. Harry noted the goblin’s sallow skin, his long thin fingers, his black eyes. Tulip had removed his shoes: His long feet were dirty. He was larger than a house-elf, but not by much. His domed head was much bigger than a human’s.

‘You probably don’t remember—‘ Harry began.

‘—that I was the goblin who showed you to your vault, the first time you ever visited Gringotts?’ said Griphook. ‘I remember, Harry Potter. Even amongst goblins, you are very famous.’

Harry and the goblin looked at each other, sizing each other up. Harry’s scar was still prickling. He wanted to get through this interview with Griphook quickly, and at the same time was afraid of making a false move. While he tried to decide on the best way to approach his request, the goblin broke the silence.

‘You buried the elf,’ he said, sounding unexpectedly rancorous. ‘I watched you from the window of the bedroom next door.’

‘Yes,’ said Harry.

Griphook looked at him out of the corners of his slanting black eyes.

‘You are an unusual wizard, Harry Potter.’

‘In what way?’ asked Harry, rubbing his scar absently.

‘You dug the grave.’

‘So?’

Griphook did not answer. Harry rather thought he was being sneered at for acting like a Muggle, but it did not matter to him whether Griphook approved of Dobby’s grave or not. He gathered himself for the attack.

‘Griphook, I need to ask—‘

‘You also rescued a goblin.’

‘What?’

‘You brought me here. Saved me.’

‘Well, I take it you’re not sorry?’ said Harry a little impatiently.

‘No, Harry Potter,’ said Griphook, and with one finger he twisted the thin black beard upon his chin, ‘but you are a very odd wizard.’

‘Right,’ said Harry. ‘Well, I need some help, Griphook, and you can give it to me.’

The goblin made no sign of encouragement, but continued to frown at Harry as though he had never seen anything like him.

‘I need to break into a Gringotts vault.’

Harry had not meant to say it so badly: the words were forced from him as pain shot through his lightning scar and he saw, again, the outline of Hogwarts. He closed his mind firmly. He needed to deal with Griphook first. His friends were staring at Harry as though he had gone mad.

‘Harry—‘ said Allison, but she was cut off by Griphook.

‘Break into a Gringotts vault?’ repeated the goblin, wincing a little as he shifted his position upon the bed. ‘It is impossible.’

‘Actually it isn’t,’ Theodore contradicted him. ‘It has been done once before.’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘The same day I first met you, Griphook. My birthday, seven years ago.’

‘The vault in question was empty at the time,’ snapped the goblin, and Harry understood that even though Griphook had let Gringotts, he was offended at the idea of its defenses being breached. ‘Its protection was minimal.’

‘Well, the vault we need to get into isn’t empty, and I’m guessing its protection will be pretty powerful,’ said Harry. ‘It belongs to the Lestranges.’

He saw his three friends look at each other, astonished, but there would be time enough to explain after Griphook had given his answer.

‘You have no chance,’ said Griphook flatly. ‘No chance at all. “If you seek beneath our floors, a treasure that was never yours—“‘

‘“Thief, you have been warned, beware”—yeah, I know, I remember,’ said Harry. ‘But I’m not trying to get myself any treasure, I’m not trying to take anything for personal gain. Can you believe that?’

The goblin looked slantwise at Harry, and the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead prickled, but he ignored it, refusing to acknowledge its pain or its invitation.

‘If there was a wizard of whom I would believe that they did not seek personal gain,’ said Griphook finally, ‘it would be you, Harry Potter. Goblins and elves are not used to the protection or the respect that you have shown this night. Not from wand-carriers.’

‘Wand-carriers,’ repeated Harry: The phrase fell oddly upon his ears as his scar prickled, as Voldemort turned his thoughts northward, and as Harry burned to question Ollivander next door.

‘The right to carry a wand,’ said the goblin quietly, ‘has long been contested between wizards and goblins.’

‘But can’t Goblins perform magic without a wand?’ asked Allison.

‘That is immaterial! Wizards refuse to share the secrets of wandlore with other magical beings, they deny us the possibility of extending our powers!’

‘That is true, but goblins don’t share any of their magical secrets either,’ said Theodore. ‘Such as how you imbue your metal with magic that allows it to only become stronger. Magic wizard inventors have never been able to—‘

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Harry, noting Griphook’s rising colour. ‘This isn’t about wizards versus goblins or any other sort of magical creature—‘

Griphook gave a nasty laugh.

‘But it is, it is precisely that! As the Dark Lord becomes ever more powerful, your race is set still more firmly above mine! Gringotts falls under Wizarding rule, house-elves are slaughtered, and who amongst the wand-carriers protests?’

‘I do,’ said Tracey. With great effort she sat up as straight as she could. ‘My friends and I have always protested against mistreatment of others, human or not. And to those currently in charge I don’t stand much higher than you Griphook, a proud daughter of a muggle! They say my blood is filth!’

‘But that’s not true—‘ said Allison.

‘But it is,’ said Tracey. ‘I am equally proud of my muggle brother and dad as I am my magical mum. Bellatrix chose me to torture, back in the manor!’ As she spoke, she pulled up the sleeve of the dressing gown to reveal the cuts Bellatrix had made, spelling crude scarlet letters:

“FILTH”

‘Tracey…’ Theodore tried to begin in shock, but Tracey continued.

‘The elf that died, his name was Dobby, and it was Harry who freed him five years ago,’ she stated. ‘And my boyfriend and I have been members of a free house-elf organization at Hogwarts for a couple years now. The four of us want You-Know-Who and his bigotry to end as much as you do, Griphook.’

The goblin gazed at Tracey with the same curiosity he had shown Harry.

‘What do you seek within the Lestranges’ vault?’ he asked abruptly. ‘I doubt four Slytherins seek the Sword of Gryffindor. Even if that were your intentions, I should warn you the sword inside is a fake.’

‘It’s true, we don’t seek the sword, but the fake sword isn’t the only thing in that vault, is it?’ asked Harry. ‘Perhaps you’ve seen other things in there?’

His heart was pounding harder than ever. He redoubled his efforts to ignore the pulsing of his scar.

The goblin twisted his beard around his finger again.

‘It is against our code to speak of the secrets of Gringotts. We are the guardians of fabulous treasures. We have a duty to the objects placed in our care, which were, so often, wrought by our fingers.’

The goblin’s black eyes roved from Harry to Tracey, to Allison, to Theodore and then back again.

‘So young,’ he said finally, ‘to be fighting so many.’

‘Will you help us?’ said Harry. ‘We haven’t got a hope of breaking in without a goblin’s help. You’re our one chance.’

‘I shall…think about it. If I do agree however, I will require compensation, and I won’t accept wizarding currency,’ said Griphook maddeningly.

‘But—‘ Allison started angrily; Tracey nudged her in the ribs.

‘Thank you,’ said Harry.

The goblin bowed his great domed head in acknowledgement, then flexed his short legs.

‘I think,’ he said, settling himself ostentatiously upon Tonks and Tulip’s bed, ‘that the Skele-Gro has finished its work. I may be able to sleep at last. Forgive me…’

‘Yeah, of course,’ said Harry, but as they were leaving the room Harry couldn’t help but feel the goblin’s eyes lingering on him as he closed the door.

‘He already has an answer,’ whispered Allison. ‘He just wants us to wait to become more desperate. And what does he mean by "compensation other than wizarding currancy"?'

'I think we'll have to find that out,' said Tracey quietly.

‘Harry,’ whispered Theodore, pulling them all away from the door, into the middle of the still-dark landing, ‘do you want to get into the Lestrange vault for the reason I think you do? Do you believe she has a Horcrux?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘Bellatrix recognized the locket as having belonged to You-Know-Who, that he’d kill everyone in Malfoy Manor if it was discovered to be destroyed. She specifically said that it was one of the objects he had hid, implying she knew of at least one other. When she was the most desperate she let slip that she thought it came from a vault, she might have thought that because that was what she herself did. Before seven years ago it was unthinkable that anything could be stolen from Gringotts, so if she was asked to hide something that was probably the best place she could think of.’

‘I thought Dumbledore said we should look for places You-Know-Who has been, places that are important to him?’ asked Tracey. ‘Why would her vault be important?’

‘I don’t know whether he was ever inside Gringotts,’ said Harry. ‘He never had gold there when he was younger, because nobody left him anything. He would have seen the bank from the outside, though, the first time he ever went to Diagon Alley.’

Harry’s scar throbbed, but he ignored it; he wanted his friends to understand about Gringotts before they spoke to Ollivander.

‘I think he would have envied anyone who had a key to a Gringotts vault. I think he’d have seen it as a real symbol of belonging to the Wizarding world. And don’t forget, he trusted Bellatrix and her husband. They were his most devoted servants before he fell, and they went looking for him after he vanished. He said it the night he came back, I heard him.’

Harry rubbed his scar.

‘I don’t think he’d have told Bellatrix it was a Horcrux, though. He never told Lucius Malfoy the truth about the diary. He probably told her it was a treasured possession and asked her to place it in her vault. The safest place in the world for anything you want to hide…except for Hogwarts.’

When Harry had finished speaking, Allison shook her head.

‘You sound as though you know him…’

‘Bits of him,’ said Harry. ‘Bits…I just wish I’d understood Dumbledore as much. But we’ll see. Come on—Ollivander now.’

Tracey, Allison, and Theodore looked bewildered but very impressed as they followed him across the little landing and knocked upon the door opposite of Tonks and Tulip’s. A weak ‘Come in!’ answered them.

The wandmaker was lying on the twin bed farthest from the window. He had been held in the cellar for more than a year, and tortured, Harry knew, on at least one occasion. He was emaciated, the bones of his face sticking out sharply against the yellowish skin. His great silver eyes seemed vast in their sunken sockets. The hands that lay upon the blanket could have belonged to a skeleton. Harry sat down on the empty bed, beside his three friends. The rising sun was not visible here. The room faced the lake-side garden and the freshly dug grave.

‘Mr Ollivander, I’m sorry to disturb you,’ Harry said.

‘My dear boy,’ Ollivander’s voice was feeble, you rescued us, I thought we would die in that place, I can never thank you…never thank you…enough.’

‘We were glad to do it.’

Harry’s scar throbbed. He knew, he was certain, that there was hardly any time left in which to beat Voldemort to his goal, or else to attempt to thwart him. He felt a flutter of panic…yet he had made his decision when he chose to speak to Griphook first. Feigning a calm he did not feel, he groped in the pouch around his neck and took out the two halves of his broken wand.

‘Mr Ollivander, I need some help.’

‘Anything. Anything,’ said the wandmaker weakly.

‘Can you mend this? Is it possible?’

Ollivander held out a trembling hand, and Harry placed the two barely connected halves in his palm.

‘Holly and phoenix feather,’ said Ollivander in a tremulous voice. ‘Eleven inches. Nice and supple.’

‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘Can you—?’

‘No,’ whispered Ollivander. ‘I am sorry, very sorry, but a wand that has suffered this degree of damage cannot be repaired by any means that I know of.’

Harry had been braced to hear it, but it was a blow nevertheless. He took the wand halves back and replaced them in the pouch around his neck. Ollivander stared at the place where the shattered wand had vanished, and did not look away until Harry had taken from his pocket the two wands he had brought from the Malfoys’.

‘Can you identify these?’ Harry asked.

The wandmaker took the first of the wands and held it close to his faded eyes, rolling it between his knobble-knuckled fingers, flexing it slightly.

‘Walnut and dragon heartstring,’ he said. ‘Twelve-and-three-quarter inches. Unyielding. This wand belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange.’

‘And this one?’

Ollivander performed the same examination.

‘Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Ten inches precisely. Reasonably springy. This was the wand of Draco Malfoy.’

‘Was?’ repeated Harry. ‘Isn’t it still his?’

‘Perhaps not. If you took it from him—‘

‘—I did—‘

‘—then it may be yours. Of course, the manner of taking matters. Much also depends upon the wand itself. In general, however, where a wand has been won, its allegiance will change.’

There was a silence in the room, except for the distant rushing of the sea.

‘You talk about wands like they’ve got feelings,’ said Harry, ‘like they can think for themselves.’

‘The wand chooses the wizard,’ said Ollivander. ‘That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore.’

‘A person can still use a wand that hasn’t chosen them, though?’ asked Harry.

‘Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.’

The sea gushed forward and backward; it was a mournful sound.

‘I took this wand from Draco Malfoy by force,’ said Harry. ‘Can I use it safely?’

‘I think so. Subtle laws govern wand ownership, but the conquered wand will usually bend its will to its new master. I believe that is the case with this one.’

‘Would that mean I should use this one?’ asked Theodore, pulling Wormtail’s wand out of his pocket and handing it to Ollivander.

‘Chestnut and dragon heartstring. Nine-and-a-quarter inches. Brittle. I was forced to make this shortly after my kidnapping, for Peter Pettigrew. Yes, if you won it, it is more likely to do your bidding, and do it well, than another wand.’

‘And this holds true for all wands, does it?’ asked Harry.

‘For the most part. Some wand woods are more loyal to their original owners, Ms Lestrange’s would prefer its old master, but its spells should at the very least not rebound,’ replied Ollivander, his protuberant eyes upon Harry’s face. ‘You ask deep questions, Mr Potter. Wandlore is a complex and mysterious branch of magic.’

‘So to clarify, it isn’t necessary to kill the previous owner to take the possession of a wand?’ asked Harry.

Ollivander swallowed.

‘Necessary? No, I should not say that it is necessary to kill.’

‘There are legends, though,’ said Harry, and as his heart rate quickened, the pain in his scar became more intense; he was sure that Voldemort has decided to put his idea into action. ‘Legends about a wand—or wands—that have been passed from hand to hand by murder.’

Ollivander turned pale. Against the snowy pillow he was light gray, and his eyes were enormous, bloodshot, and bulging with what looked like fear.

‘Only one wand, I think,’ he whispered.

‘And You-Know-Who is interested in it, isn’t he?’ asked Harry.

‘I—how?’ croaked Ollivander, and he looked appealingly at Tracey, Allison, and Theodore for help. ‘How do you know this?’

‘He wanted you to tell him how to overcome the connection between our wands,’ said Harry.

Ollivander looked terrified.

‘He tortured me, you must understand that! The Cruciatus Curse, I–I had no choice but to tell him what I knew, what I guessed!’

‘I understand, I am not mad at you for the information you gave him,’ said Harry. ‘You told him about the twin cores? You said he just had to borrow another wizard’s wand?’

Ollivander looked horrified, transfixed, by the amount that Harry knew. He nodded slowly.

‘But it didn’t work,’ Harry went on. ‘Mine still beat the borrowed wand. Do you know why that is?’

Ollivander shook his head slowly as he had just nodded.

‘I had…never heard of such a thing. Your wand performed something unique that night. The connection of the twin cores is incredibly rare, yet why your wand would have snapped the borrowed wand, I do not know…’

‘We were talking about the other wand, the wand that changes hands by murder. When You-Know-Who realized my wand had done something strange, he came back and asked about that other wand, didn’t he?’

‘How do you know this?’

Harry did not answer.

‘Yes, he asked,’ whispered Ollivander. ‘He wanted to know everything I could tell him about the wand variously known as the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, or the Elder Wand.’

Harry glanced sideways at Theodore. He looked flabbergasted.

‘The Dark Lord,’ said Ollivander in hushed and frightened tones, ‘had always been happy with the wand I made him—yew and phoenix feather, thirteen-and-a-half inches—until he discovered the connection of the twin cores. Now he seeks another, more powerful wand, as the only way to conquer yours.’

‘But he’ll know soon, if he doesn’t already, that mine’s broken beyond repair,’ said Harry quietly.

‘How—?’ began Allison.

‘Priori Incantatem,’ said Harry. ‘We left your lot’s three wands including Tracey and the sycamore wand at the Malfoys’, Allison. If they examine them properly, make them re-create the spells they’ve cast lately, they’d see that Tracey’s broke mine, they’ll see that she tried and failed to mend it, and they’ll realize that I’ve been using the sycamore one ever since.’

It wasn’t Harry’s intention, but his last couple statements seemed to have made Tracey quite uncomfortable as all the colour drained from her face. Allison gave Harry a hesitant look, and she said, ‘That’ll be a problem for later, tonight we—‘

But Mr Ollivander intervened.

‘The Dark Lord no longer seeks the Elder Wand only for your destruction, Mr Potter. He is determined to possess it because he believes it will make him truly invulnerable.’

‘And will it?’

‘The owner of the Elder Wand must always fear attack,’ said Ollivander, ‘but the idea of the Dark Lord in possession of the Deathstick is, I must admit…formidable.’

Harry was suddenly reminded of how unsure, when they first met, of how much he like Ollivander. A memory of him yelling at Sirius for customizing his wand stuck at the surface of his mind for a second. Even now, having been tortured and imprisoned by Voldemort, the idea of the Dark Wizard in possession of this wand seemed to enthrall him as much as it repulsed him.

‘So—you truly believe the Elder Wand exists, Mr Ollivander?’ asked Theodore.

‘Oh yes,’ said Ollivander. ‘Yes, it is perfectly possible to trace the wand’s course through history. There are gaps, of, course, and long ones, where it vanishes from view, temporarily lost or hidden; but always it resurfaces. It has certain identifying characteristics that those who are learned in wandlore recognize. There are written accounts, some of them obscure, that I and other wandmakers have made it our business to study. They have the ring of authenticity.’

‘Then it isn’t just a story myth?’ Theodore tried to confirm.

‘No,’ said Ollivander. ‘Whether it needs to pass by murder, I do not know. Its history is bloody, but that may be simply due to the fact that it is such a desirable object, and arouses such passions in wizards. Immensely powerful, dangerous in the wrong hands, and an object of incredible fascination to all of us who study the power of wands.’

‘Mr Ollivander,’ said Harry, ‘you told You-Know-Who that Gregorovitch had the Elder Wand, didn’t you?’

Ollivander turned, if possible, even paler. He looked ghostly as he gulped.

‘But how—how do you—?’

‘Never mind how I know it,’ said Harry, closing his eyes momentarily as his scar burned and he saw, for mere seconds, a vision of the main street in Hogsmeade, still dark, because it was so much farther north. ‘You told You-Know-Who that Gregorovitch had the wand?’

‘It was a rumour,’ whispered Ollivander. ‘A rumour, years and years ago, long before you were born, I believe Gregorovitch himself started it. You can see how good it would be for business; that he was studying and duplicating the qualities of the Elder Wand!’

‘Yes, I can see that,’ said Harry. He stood up. ‘Mr Ollivander, one last thing, and then we’ll let you get some rest. What do you know about the Deathly Hallows?’

‘The—the what?’ asked the wandmaker, looking utterly bewildered.

‘The Deathly Hallows.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is this still something to do with wands?’

Harry looked into the sunken face and believed that Ollivander was not acting. He did not know about the Hallows.

‘Thank you,’ said Harry. ‘Thank you very much.’

Before he could leave the man to rest, Allison had her own question.

‘Mr Ollivander, I lost my wand in the manor as well. My family is French, and my mother told me about her making my wand, but she never got to show me how. When you are more recovered could you tell me what to do?’

‘The makings of Ollivander wands are a family secret, but if you are determined to make your own wand I can give you some tips to start you on the right path,’ Mr Ollivander said with a tiny smile.

‘Thank you,’ said Allison with a nod.

‘We’ll leave you to get some rest now,’ said Harry, his voice took his small smile away.

Ollivander looked stricken.

‘He was torturing me!’ he gasped. ‘The Cruciatus Curse...you have no idea...’

‘I do,’ said Harry, ‘I really do. Please get some rest. Thank you for telling us all of this, I know it couldn’t have been easy.’

Harry led the other three down the staircase. Harry caught glimpses of Tonks, Tulip, Luna, and Dean sitting at the table in the kitchen, cups of tea in front of them. They all looked up at Harry as he appeared in the doorway, but he merely nodded to them and continued into the garden, his three friends behind him. The reddish mound of earth that covered Dobby lay ahead, and Harry walked back to it, as the pain in his head built more and more powerfully. It was a huge effort now to close down the visions that were forcing themselves upon him, but he knew that he would have to resist only a little longer. He would yield very soon, because he needed to know that his theory was right. He must make only one more short effort, so that he could explain to his friends.

‘Gregorovitch had the Elder Wand a long time ago,’ he said, ‘I saw You-Know-Who trying to find him. When he tracked him down, he found that Gregorovitch didn’t have it anymore: It was stolen from him by Grindelwald. How Grindelwald found out that Gregorovitch had it, I don’t know—but if Gregorovitch was stupid enough to spread the rumour, it can’t have been that difficult.’

Voldemort was at the gates of Hogwarts; Harry could see him standing there, and see too the lamp bobbing in the pre-dawn, coming closer and closer.

‘And Grindelwald used the Elder Wand to become powerful. And at the height of his power, when Dumbledore knew he was the only one who could stop him, he dueled Grindelwald and beat him, and he took the Elder Wand.’

‘Dumbledore’s wand was THE Elder Wand?’ said Tracey. ‘What, but—who owns it now? Where is it?’

‘At Hogwarts, Dumbledore was buried with it,’ said Harry, fighting to remain with them in the lake-side garden.

‘Then we have to go, we have to protect it!’ said Theodore urgently. ‘Harry, we can’t let it fall into his hands!’

‘It’s too late for that,’ said Harry. He could not help himself, but clutched his head, trying to help it resist. ‘He knows where it is. He’s there now.’

‘Harry!’ Allison said anxiously. ‘When did you learn this? While you were burying Dobby, Theo and I could have—‘

‘No,’ said Harry, and he sank to his knees in the grass. ‘You guys were right. Dumbledore didn’t want me to have it. He didn’t want me to take it. He wanted me to get the Horcruxes.’

‘But with it he’ll be unbeatable!’ moaned Theodore in defeat.

‘I’m not supposed to…I’m supposed to get the Horcruxes…’

And now everything was cool and dark: The sun was barely visible over the horizon as he glided alongside Snape, up through the grounds toward the lake.

‘I shall join you in the castle shortly,’ he said in his high, cold voice. ‘Leave me now.’

Snape bowed and set off back up the path, his black cloak billowing behind him. Harry walked slowly, waiting for Snape’s figure to disappear. It would not do for Snape, or indeed anyone else, to see where he was going. But there were no lights in the castle windows, and he could conceal himself…and in a second he had cast upon himself a Disillusionment Charm that hid him even from his own eyes.

And he walked on, around the edge of the lake, taking in the outlines of the beloved castle, his first kingdom, his birthright…

And here it was, beside the lake, reflected in the dark waters. The white marble tomb, an unnecessary blot on the familiar landscape. He felt again that rush of controlled euphoria, that heady sense of purpose in destruction. He raised the old yew wand: How fitting that this would be its last great act.

The tomb split open from head to foot. The shrouded figure was as long as thin as it had been in life. He raised the wand again. The wrappings fell open. The face was translucent, pale, sunken, yet almost perfectly preserved. They had left his spectacles on the crooked nose: He felt amused derision. Dumbledore’s hands were folded upon his chest, and there it lay, clutched beneath them, buried with him.

Had the old fool imagined that marble or death would protect the wand? Had he thought that the Dark Lord would be scared to violate his tomb? The spiderlike hand swooped and pulled the wand from Dumbledore’s grasp, and as he took it, a shower of sparks flew from its tip, sparkling over the corpse of its last owner, ready to serve a new master at last.

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

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003840013

Tags:

@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972 @Interested.me @Mega.mind.harry.potter

Chapter Twenty-Two: Malfoy Manor

Harry looked around at the other three, now mere outlines in the darkness. He saw Allison point her wand, not toward the outside, but towards his own face, ‘Furnunculus Maxima.’

There was a burst of golden light and he buckled in agony, unable to see, all he could feel was pain and someone forcibly pushing his glasses off his face. He could feel his face swelling rapidly.

‘Get up, vermin.’

Unknown hands dragged Harry roughly off the ground, before he could stop them, someone had rummaged through his pockets and removed the sycamore wand. Harry clutched at his excruciatingly painful face, which now had about a hundred giant boils the size of kumquats and felt unrecognizable beneath his fingers. He was forced to squint, both from the lack of glasses, and because boils were pressing upon both his upper and lower eyelids. As he was bundled out of the tent: all he could make out were the blurred shapes of four or five people wrestling Theodore, Allison, and Tracey outside too.

‘Hey! Let her go!’ Harry shouted as he watched three big Snatchers struggle to forcibly keep Allison still.

If his pain wasn’t already enough, Harry then received a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him and almost making him collapse.

‘Beau! No, stop, please don’t hurt him!’ screamed Allison as she ceased to struggle.

Quickly glancing over, Harry spotted Theodore and Tracey being held tightly by two other Snatchers.

‘Your boyfriend’s going to have worse than that done to him if he’s on my list,’ said the horribly familiar, rasping voice. ‘Deliciousgirl...whatatreat...Idoenjoythesoftnessoftheskin...’

Harry’s stomach continued to turn over. He knew who this was, Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who traumatized Remus and Canini for life and had developed cannibalistic cravings even when not in werewolf form.

‘Search the tent!’ said another voice, and with Allison no longer struggling one of her captures ran into the tent.

Harry was thrown face down onto the ground. A couple thuds told him that Theodore a Tracey had been cast down beside him. They could hear footsteps and crashes; the man was pushing over chairs inside the tent as he searched.

‘Now, let’s see who we’ve got,’ said Greyback’s gloating voice from overhead, and Harry was rolled over onto his back. A beam of wand light fell onto his face and Greyback laughed.

‘I’ll be needing butterbeer to wash this one down. What happened to you, ugly?’

Harry did not answer immediately.

‘I said,’ repeated Greyback, and Harry received a blow to the diaphragm that made him double over in pain, ‘what happened to you?’

‘Sensitive skin,’ Harry muttered. ‘There isn’t exactly Bubotuber pus or Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher out here.’

‘You look like a Mimbulus mimbletonia,’ said a second voice.

‘What’s your name?’ snarled Greyback.

‘Dudley,’ said Harry.

‘And your first name?’

‘I—Vernon. Vernon Dudley.’

‘Check the list, Scabior,’ said Greyback, and Harry head him move sideways to look down at Tracey, instead. ‘And what about you, curly?’

‘Bridget Maloney,’ said Tracey.

‘And you?’ Greyback said to Theodore.

‘Luke Avery,’ said Theodore.

‘Like ’ell you are,’ said the man called Scabior. ‘Avery is more than double yer age, an’ has no need running from Death Eaters seein’ that ‘e’s one.’

There was another thud.

‘I’b Maxwell,’ said Theodore, and Harry could tell that his mouth was full of blood. ‘Maxwell Lazenby.’

‘The surname is familiar,’ rasped Greyback. ‘So you better hope it’s a good familiar and not a bad familiar. And lastly, your pretty feisty friend…’ The relish in his voice made Harry’s flesh crawl.

‘Easy, Greyback,’ said Scabior over the jeering of the others.

‘Oh, I’m not going to bite just yet. We’ll see if she’s a bit quicker at remembering her name than Max. Who are you, girly?’

‘Zoe Accrington,’ said Allison. She sounded terrified, but convincing.

‘What’s your blood status?’

‘Half-Blood,’ said Allison.

‘Easy enough to check,’ said Scabior. ‘But the ’ole lot of ’em look like they could still be ’ogwarts age—‘

‘It’z Holeda,’ Theodore tried to say.

‘Out for Easter Holiday, is that what you’re trying to say, sonny?’ said Scabior. ‘Well if you actually had been to Hogwarts recently then you’d know this year’s Easter break was cancelled and almost no students were permitted to go home. Besides, an innocent little Easter camping trip wouldn’t explain one of you using the Dark Lords name?’

‘It was a simple accident,’ said Tracey, even with Harry’s poor vision he could tell she was shaking.

‘Accident?’ There was more jeering laughter.

‘You know who used to like using the Dark Lord’s name?’ growled Greyback, ‘The Order of the Phoenix. Mean anything to you?’

‘Doh,’ replied Theodore.

‘Well, they don’t show the Dark Lord proper respect, so the name’s been Tabooed. A few Order members have been tracked that way. We’ll see. Bind them up with the other two prisoners!’

Someone yanked Harry up by the hair, dragged him a short way, pushed him down into a sitting position, then started binding him back-to-back with other people.

Harry was still almost entirely blind, barely able to see anything through his puffed-up eyes. When at last the man tying them had walked away, Harry whispered to the other prisoners.

‘Anyone still got a wand?’

‘No,’ said his three friends from either side of him.

‘This is all my fault. I said the name. I’m sorry—‘

‘Harry?’

It was a new, but familiar voice, but one he couldn’t quite place. And it came from directly behind Harry, from the person tied to Allison’s left.

‘You’re Dean Thomas, Gryffindor, and D.A. member?’ whispered Theodore.

‘Yeah, that’s me,’ Dean whispered back. ‘Never thought I’d be happy to see a bunch of Slytherin’s. The guy with the boils, is that real him.’

‘You’ll understand that we can’t confirm or deny that. You could be a Death Eater trying to trick us,’ said Allison, dead serious. ‘We competed in Quidditch together and trained together in the D.A., I trust you Dean, but not that much.’

‘That’s fair,’ Dean admitted with a sigh. ‘Still, it’s good to see you four.’

‘Not a bad little haul for one night,’ Greyback was saying, as a pair of hobnailed boots marched close by Harry and they heard more crashes from inside the tent. ‘A Mudblood, a runaway goblin, and these truants. You checked their names on the list yet, Scabior?’ he roared.

‘Yeah. There’s no Vernon Dudley un ’ere, Greyback.’

‘Interesting,’ said Greyback. ‘That’s interesting.’

He crouched down beside Harry, who saw, through the infinitesimal gap left between his swollen eyelids, a face covered in matted gray hair and whiskers, with pointed brown teeth and sores in the corners of his mouth. Greyback smelled as he had done at the top of the tower where Dumbledore had died: of dirt, sweat, and blood.

‘So you aren’t wanted, then, Vernon? Or are you on that list under a different name? What house were you in at Hogwarts?’

‘Slytherin,’ said Harry automatically. It was both the truth, and the option that would give them the highest chance of surviving the night.

‘Funny ’ow they all thinks we wants to ’ear that,’ leered Scabior out of the shadows. ‘But none of ’em can tell us where the common room is.’

‘It’s in the dungeons,’ said Harry clearly. ‘You enter through the enchanted wall. It’s under the lake, lamps that emit green light, large tapestries, and all the furniture is carved from stone.’

There was a short pause.

‘Well, well, looks like we really ’ave caught a little Slytherin,’ said Scabior. ‘Good for you, Vernon, ’cause there ain’t a lot of Mudblood Slytherins. Then again there still are a handful of Slytherin’s on our list. Who’s your father?’

‘He works at the Ministry,’ Harry lied. He knew that his whole story would collapse with the smallest investigation, but on the other hand, he only had until his face regained its usual appearance before the game was up in any case. ‘Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.’

‘You know what, Greyback,’ said Scabior. ‘I think there is a Dudley in there.’

Harry could barely breathe: Could luck, sheer luck, get them safely out of this?

‘Well, well,’ said Greyback, and Harry could hear the tiniest note of trepidation in that callous voice, and knew that Greyback was wondering whether he had just indeed just attacked and bound the son of a Ministry Official. Harry’s heart was pounding against the ropes around his ribs; he would not have been surprised to know that Greyback could see it. ‘If you’re telling the truth, ugly, you’ve got nothing to fear from a trip to the Ministry. I expect your father’ll reward us just for picking you up.’

‘But,’ said Harry, his mouth bone dry, ‘if you just let us—‘

‘Hey! Look at this. Greyback!’ a dark figure came bustling toward them from the tent. ‘Look at this, in the Prophet!’

As the Snatcher said it, Harry’s scar, which was stretched tight across his distended forehead, burned savagely. More clearly than he could make out anything around him, he saw a towering building, a grim fortress, jet-black and forbidding: Voldemort’s thoughts had suddenly become Razor-Sharp again; he was gliding toward the gigantic building with a sense of calmly euphoric purpose…So close...So close...

With a huge effort of will Harry closed his mind to Voldemort’s thoughts, pulling himself back to where he sat, tied to Allison, Theodore, Tracey, Dean, and Griphook in the darkness, listening to Greyback and Scabior. ‘“Allison Runcorn”,’ said Scabior as he read the paper he was handed, ‘“the traitorous daughter of Chief Investigator of Magic Thieving Muggles Albert Runcorn, is known to be traveling with er suspected boyfriend Harry Potter.”’

Harry’s scar burned in the silence, but he made a supreme effort to keep himself present, not to slip into Voldemort’s mind. He heard the creak of Greyback’s boots as he crouched down, in front of Allison.

‘You know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you.’

‘I’m Zoe Accrington, I’m not her!’

Allison was a good actress, but despite her hair being longer her face was still the same as it was in the photo. Greyback ignored her protests.

‘…known to be traveling with her suspected boyfriend Harry Potter,’ repeated Greyback quietly. ‘Didn’t you call the ugly one “beau” earlier?’

A stillness had settled over the scene. Harry’s scar was exquisitely painful, but he struggled with all his strength against the pull of Voldemort’s thoughts. It had never been so important to remain in his own right mind.

‘Well, this changed things, doesn’t it?’ whispered Greyback. Nobody spoke: Harry sensed the gang of Snatchers watching, frozen, and felt Allison’s arm trembling against his.

Greyback got up and took a couple of steps to where Harry sat, crouching down again to stare closely at his misshapen features.

‘What’s that on your forehead, Vernon?’ he asked softly, his breath foul in Harry’s nostrils as he pressed a filthy finger to the taught scar.

‘Don’t touch me!’ Harry yelled; he could not stop himself, he thought he might be sick from the pain of Greyback touching his scar.

‘I thought you wore glasses, Potter?’ breathed Greyback.

‘I found glasses!’ yelped one of the Snatchers skulking in the background. ‘There was glasses in the tent, Greyback, wait—‘

And seconds later Harry’s glasses had been rammed back onto his face. The Snatchers were closing in now, peering at him.

‘It is!’ rasped Greyback. ‘We’ve caught Potter!’

They all took several steps backward, stunned by what they had done. Harry, still fighting to remain present in his own splitting head, could think of nothing to say. Fragmented visions were breaking across the surface of his mind—

—He was gliding around the high walls of the black fortress—

—No, he was Harry, tied up and wandless, in grave danger—

—looking up, up to the topmost window, the highest tower—

—He was Harry, and they were discussing his fate in low voices—

—Time to fly...

‘…To the Ministry?’

‘To hell with the Ministry,’ growled Greyback. ‘They’ll take the credit, and we won’t get a look in. I say we take him straight to You-Know-Who.’

‘Will you summon ’im? ’ere?’ said Scabior, sounding awed, terrified.

‘No,’ snarled Greyback, ‘I haven’t got—they say he’s using the Malfoy’s place as a base. We’ll take the boy there.’

Harry thought he knew why Greyback was not calling Voldemort. The werewolf might be allowed to wear Death Eater robes when they wanted to use him, but only Voldemort’s inner circle were branded with the Dark Mark: Greyback, in their minds a Half-breed, had not been granted this highest honour.

Harry’s scar seared again—

—and he rose into the night, flying straight up to the windows at the very top of the tower—

‘…completely sure it’s him? ’Cause if it ain’t, Greyback, we’re dead.’

‘Who’s in charge here?’ roared Greyback, covering his moment of inadequacy. ‘I say that’s Potter, and him plus his wand, that’s two hundred thousand Galleons right there! But if you’re too gutless to come along, any of you, it’s all for me, and with any luck, I’ll get the girl thrown in!’

—The window was the merest slit in the black rock, not big enough for a man to enter...A skeletal figure was just visible through it, curled beneath a blanket…Dead, or sleeping..?

‘All right!’ said Scabior. ‘All right, we’re in! And what about the rest of ’em, Greyback, what’ll we do with ’em?’

‘Might as well take the lot. We’ve got at least one Mudblood, that’s another five Galleons. I’m also sure Runcorn would be willing to pay yet another small fortune for the return of his daughter…after I’m done with her.’

The prisoners were dragged to their feet. Harry could hear Tracey’s breathing, fast and terrified.

‘Grab hold and make it tight. I’ll do Potter!’ said Greyback, seizing a fistful of Harry’s hair; Harry could feel his long yellow nails scratching his scalp. ‘On three! One—two—three—‘

They Disapparated, pulling the prisoners with them. Harry struggled, trying to throw off Greyback’s hand, but it was hopeless: Tracey, Allison, and Theodore were squeezed tightly against him on either side; he could not separate from the group, and as the breath was squeezed out of him his scar seared more painfully still—

—as he forced himself through the slit of a window like a snake and landed, lightly as vapor inside the cell-like room—

The prisoners lurched into one another as they landed in a country lane. Harry’s eyes, still puffy, took a moment to acclimatize, then he saw a pair of wrought-iron gates at the foot of what looked like a long drive. He experienced the tiniest trickle of relief. The worst had not happened yet: Voldemort was not here. He was, Harry knew, for he was fighting to resist the vision, in some strange, fortress-like place, at the top of a tower. How long it would take Voldemort to get to this place, once he knew that Harry was here, was another matter…

One of the Snatchers strode to the gates and shook them.

‘How do we get in? They’re locked, Greyback, I can’t—blimey!’

He whipped his hands away in fright. The iron was contorting, twisting itself out of the abstract furls and coils into a frightening face, which spoke in a clanging, echoing voice. ‘State your purpose!’

‘We’ve got Potter!’ Greyback roared triumphantly. ‘We’ve captured Harry Potter!’

The gates swung open.

‘Come on!’ said Greyback to his men, and the prisoners were shunted through the gates and up the drive, between high hedges that muffled their footsteps. Harry saw a ghostly white shape above him, and realized it was an albino peacock. He stumbled and was dragged onto his feet by Greyback; now he was staggering along sideways, tied back-to-back to the four other prisoner. Closing his swollen eyes, he allowed the pain in his scar to overcome him for a moment, wanting to know what Voldemort was doing, whether he knew yet that Harry was caught…

The emaciated figure stirred beneath its thin blanket and rolled over toward him, eyes opening in a skull of a face...The frail man sat up, great sunken eyes fixed upon him, upon Voldemort, and then he smiled. Most of his teeth were gone...

‘So, you have come. I thought you would…one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it.’

‘You lie!’

As Voldemort’s anger throbbed inside him, Harry’s scar threatened to burst with pain, and he wrenched his mind back to his own body, fighting to remain present as the prisoners were pushed over gravel.

Light spilled out over all of them.

‘What is this?’ said a woman’s cold voice.

‘We’re here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!’ rasped Greyback.

‘Who are you?’

‘You know me!’ There was resentment in the werewolf’s voice. ‘Fenrir Greyback! We’ve caught Harry Potter!’

Greyback seized Harry and dragged him around to face the light, forcing the other prisoners to shuffle around too.

‘I know ’es disfigured, ma’am, but it’s ’im!’ piped up Scabior. ‘If you look a bit closer, you’ll see ’is scar. And this ’ere, see the girl? His sweetheart who’s been traveling around with ’im, ma’am. There’s no doubt it’s ’im, and we’ve got ’is wand as well! ’Ere, ma’am—‘

Through his swollen eyelids Harry saw Narcissa Malfoy scrutinizing his swollen face. Scabior thrust the sycamore wand at her. She raised her eyebrows.

‘Bring them in,’ she said.

Harry and the others were shoved and kicked up broad stone steps into a hallway lined with portraits.

‘Follow me,’ said Narcissa, leading the way across the hall. ‘My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know.’

The drawing room dazzled after the darkness outside; even with his eyes almost closed Harry could make out the wide proportions of the room. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, more portraits against the dark purple walls. Two figures rose from chairs in front of an ornate marble fireplace as the prisoners were forced into the room by the Snatchers.

‘What is this?’

The dreadfully familiar, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on Harry’s ears. He was panicking now. He could see no way out, and it was easier, as his fear mounted, to block out Voldemort’s thoughts, though his scar was still burning.

‘They say they’ve got Potter,’ said Narcissa’s cold voice. ‘Draco, come here.’

Harry did not dare look directly at Draco, but saw him obliquely; a figure slightly taller than he was, rising from an armchair, his face a pale and pointed blur beneath white-blond hair. He looked almost sick, and Harry couldn’t tell if it was because a full moon had just passed, or if it was that the monster who had infected him stood right behind Harry.

Greyback forced the prisoners to turn again so as to place Harry directly beneath the chandelier.

‘Well, boy?’ rasped the werewolf.

Harry was facing a mirror over the fireplace, a great gilded thing in an intricately scrolled frame. Through the slits of his eyes he saw his own reflection for the first time since leaving Grimmauld Place.

His face was huge, lumpy, and pink, every feature distorted by Allison’s powerful jinx. His black hair nearly reached his shoulders and there was a dark shadow around his jaw. Had he not known that it was he who stood there, he would have wondered who was wearing his glasses. He resolved not to speak, for his voice was sure to give him away; yet he still avoided eye contact with Draco as the latter approached. They had shared a dorm for six years, and nearly all their classes, and while Harry’s face may currently be nearly unrecognizable, he feared Draco would recognize his mannerisms or regular robes, and of course Draco had to have recognized Theodore, Allison, and Tracey.

‘Well, Draco?’ said Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid. ‘Is it? Is it Harry Potter?’

This was it, Harry thought. There was a brief time between the end of their third and fifth year that Harry had considered his relationship with Draco neutral, even on one or two occasions he thought of him as an ally, but ever since Harry’s actions resulted in Lucius getting caught at the Ministry Draco had hated his guts. Harry wasn’t even sure if he could blame him, Lucius’ capture had resulted in Draco being forcibly infected with lycanthropy and placed in a soul crushing year long mission under the threat of the death of his parents and himself. All that combined with Harry accidentally nearly torturing him to death Harry was certain that any second now Draco would—‘

‘I can’t—I can’t be sure,’ said Draco.

Harry almost let a sound out in shock.

Draco was understandably keeping his distance from Greyback, but also seemed as scared of looking at Harry as Harry was of looking at him.

‘But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!’

Harry had never heard Lucius Malfoy so excited.

‘Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv—‘

‘Now, we won’t be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope Mr Malfoy?’ said Greyback menacingly.

‘Of course not, of course not!’ said Lucius impatiently. He approached Harry himself, came so close that Harry could see the usually languid, pale face in sharp detail even through his swollen eyes. With his face a boily mask, Harry felt as though he was peering out from between the bars of a cage.

‘What did you do to him?’ Lucius asked Greyback. ‘How did he get into this state?’

‘That wasn’t us.’

‘Looks more like a modified Pimple Jinx to me,’ said Lucius.

His gray eyes raked Harry’s forehead.

‘There’s something there,’ he whispered, ‘it could be the scar, stretched tight…Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?’

Harry saw Draco’s face up close now, right beside his father’s. They were extraordinarily alike, except that while his father looked beside himself with excitement, Draco’s expression was full of reluctance, fear, and even possibly regret.

‘I don’t know,’ he said more vocally, and he walked away toward the fire-place where his mother stood watching.

‘We had better be certain, Lucius,’ Narcissa called to her husband in her cold, clear voice. ‘Completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord...They say this is his’—she was looking closely at the sycamore wand—‘but it does not resemble Ollivander’s description…If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing…Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?’

‘What about the brute, she’s his girlfriend?’ growled Greyback. Harry was nearly thrown off his feet as the Snatchers forced the prisoners to swivel around again, so that the light fell on Allison instead.

‘Wait,’ said Narcissa sharply. ‘Yes—yes, she was in Madam Malkin’s with Potter! Look, Draco, isn’t it the Runcorn girl?’

‘I...maybe...yeah.’

‘And I can confirm this one is Nott’s son, he’s been living with Potter and his family for years!’ shouted Lucius, striding around the bound prisoners to face Theodore. ‘It’s them, Potter’s friends—I’ll let your true father deal with you later, you blood betraying cur.’

‘And the other girl, isn’t that the Davis’ daughter, I saw her picture in the Prophet!’ cheered Narcissa nearly in joy.

‘Yeah,’ said Draco again, his back to the prisoners. ‘It could be.’

The drawing room door opened behind Harry. A woman spoke, and the sound of the voice wound Harry’s fear to an even higher pitch.

‘What is this? What’s happened, Cissy?’

Bellatrix Lestrange walked slowly around the prisoners, and stopped on Harry’s right, staring at Allison through her heavily lidded eyes.

‘But surely,’ she said quietly, ‘this is the Runcorn girl?’

‘Yes, yes, it’s Runcorn!’ cried Lucius, ‘And beside her, we think, Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!’

‘Potter?’ shrieked Bellatrix, and she backed away, the better to take in Harry. ‘Are you sure? Well then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!’

She dragged back her left sleeve: Harry saw the Dark Mark burned into the flesh of her arm, and knew that she was about to touch it, to summon her beloved master—

‘I was about to call him!’ said Lucius, and his hand actually closed upon Bellatrix’s wrist, preventing her from touching the Mark. ‘I shall summon him, Bella. Potter has been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority—‘

‘Your authority!’ she sneered, attempting to wrench her hand from his grasp. ‘You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! How dare you! Take your hands off me!’

‘This is nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy—‘

‘Begging your pardon, Mr Malfoy,’ interjected Greyback, ‘but it’s us that caught Potter, and it’s us that’ll be claiming the gold—‘

‘Gold!’ laughed Bellatrix, still attempting to throw off her

brother-in-law, her free hand groping in her pocket for her wand. ‘Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold? I seek only the honour of his—of—‘

She stopped struggling, her dark eyes fixed upon something Harry could not see. Jubilant at her capitulation, Lucius threw her hand from him and ripped up his own sleeve—

‘STOP!’ shrieked Bellatrix, ‘Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!’

Lucius froze, his index finger hovering over his own Mark. Bellatrix strode out of Harry’s limited line of vision.

‘What is that?’ he heard her say.

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!’

First half of book:

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003829962

Previous Chapter:

https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003833123

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(For those that don't already know, I have just finished my four years, all classes, exams, assignments, volunteering, and internships. In a couple weeks I will now receive my Architectural Technologist diploma! I graduate in June! 👩🏻‍🎓✍️)

Chapter Twenty: The Tale of the Three Brothers

Harry turned to look at the other three. None of them seemed to have understood what Xenophilius had said either.

‘The Deathly Hallows?’

‘That’s right,’ said Xenophilius. ‘You haven’t heard of them? I’m not surprised. Very, very few wizards believe. Witness that knuckle-headed young man at the wedding,’ he said referring to Krum, ‘who attacked me for sporting the symbol of a well-known Dark wizard! Such ignorance. There is nothing Dark about the Hallows—at least, not in that crude sense. One simply uses the symbol to reveal oneself to other believers, in the hope that they might help one with the Quest.’

He stirred several lumps of sugar into his Gurdyroot infusion and drank some.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Harry. ‘I still don’t really understand.’

To be polite, he took a sip from his cup too, and almost gagged: The stuff was quite disgusting, as though someone had melted together bogey-flavored Every Flavor Beans.

‘Well, you see, believers seek the Deathly Hallows,’ said Xenophilius, smacking his lips in apparent appreciation of the Gurdyroot infusion.

‘But sir, what we’re trying to ask is what are the Deathly Hallows?’ asked Theodore. Xenophilius set aside his empty teacup.

‘I assume that you are all familiar with the “Tale of the Three Brothers”?’

Harry, Tracey, and Theodore said, ‘Yes,’ but Allison said, ‘No.’ To himself though Harry had to admit it had been many years since the last time he read it. Xenophilius nodded gravely.

‘Well, well, the whole thing starts with “The Tale of the Three Brothers”…I have a copy somewhere….’

He glanced vaguely around the room, at the piles of parchment and books, but Tracey said, ‘I’ve got a copy here, Mr Lovegood, Theo’s actually.’

And she pulled out The Tales of Beedle the Bard from the small, emerald purse and handed it to Theodore.

‘The original?’ inquired Xenophilius sharply, and when Theodore nodded, he said, ‘Well then, why don’t you read it out loud? Much the best way to make sure we all understand.’

Theodore passed the book to Allison.

‘I’ve learned to translate and read runes, but I think you’d recite it in proper tone compared to what I could do,’ explained Theodore. ‘It starts on page eighty four.’

‘Well, alright then,’ said Allison. She opened the book, and Harry saw that the symbol they were investigating headed the top of the page as she gave a little cough, and began to read. ‘“There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight—“‘

The other three got comfortable to listen to the story. Xenophilius, however, did not seem to be paying much attention, but was staring out of the window at the sky.

‘“In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure. And Death spoke to them—“‘

‘I never understood that part,’ interjected Harry, ‘Death spoke to them?’

Allison shot him a look of a teacher with a trouble making student interrupting her class.

‘It’s only a fairy tale, it’s like the muggle mythological figure of Thanatos,’ explained Tracey.

‘Right, sorry. Go on Allison,’ apologized Harry.

‘“And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him. So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the older brother. Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death further still, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead. And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility”…Death had his an Invisibility Cloak?’

‘Yes,’ said Tracey, ‘I think it’s another metaphor about how most don’t see their death coming until it arrives.’

Allison nodded and then continued.

‘“Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death’s gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination. The first brother traveled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible. That very night, another wizard crept upon the older brother as he lay wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother’s throat. And so Death took the first brother for his own.”’

‘This is just terrible,’ whispered Theodore.

‘“Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and he turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him. Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her. And so Death took the second brother for his own. But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, as equals, they departed this life.”’

Allison closed the book and handed it back to Tracey. It was a moment or two before Xenophilius seemed to realize that she had stopped reading, then he withdrew his gaze from the window and said, ‘Well, there you are.’

‘Sorry?’ said Theodore, sounding confused.

‘Those are the Deathly Hallows,’ said Xenophilius.

He picked up a quill from a packed table at his elbow, and pulled

a torn piece of parchment from between more books.

‘The Elder Wand,’ he said, and he drew a straight vertical line upon the parchment. ‘The Resurrection Stone,’ he said, and he added a circle on top of the line. ‘The Cloak of Invisibility,’ he finished, enclosing both the line and circle in a triangle, to make the symbol that so intrigued Theodore and Harry. ‘Together,’ he said, ‘the Deathly Hallows.’

‘I’m sorry, but I’m still confused, I never translated any of the runes in that story to say Deathly Hallows. Did I miss something, Allison?’ said Theodore, to which Allison shook her head.

‘Well, of course not in the book,’ said Xenophilius, maddeningly smug. ‘That is a children’s tale, told to amuse rather than to instruct. Those of us who understand these matters, however, recognize that the ancient story refers to three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death.’

There was a short silence in which Xenophilius glanced out of the window. Already the sun was low in the sky.

‘Luna ought to have enough Plimpies soon,’ he said quietly.

‘When you say they make someone “master of Death”—‘ said Tracey.

‘Master,’ said Xenophilius, waving an airy hand. ‘Conqueror. Vanquisher. Whichever term you prefer.’

‘Let me try to understand,’ said Theodore slowly, and Harry could tell that he was trying to keep any trace of skepticism out of his voice, ‘are you saying you believe these items—these Hallows—actually exist?’

Xenophilius raised his eyebrows again.

‘Well, of course.’

‘But sir,’ said Tracey, and Harry could hear her restraint starting to crack like Theodore’s, ‘how could they possibly be—?’

‘Luna has told me that some of her friends are intelligent, but painfully limited. Narrow. Close-minded,’ said Mr Lovegood while looking at Tracey and Theodore. ‘That would be you two, I gather.’

Theodore looked as though he was trying to suppress his offence at being called closed-minded. He took a deep breath before speaking.

‘What we’re trying to say,’ Theodore began, ‘is that while we know a handful of Invisibility Cloaks exist, the other—‘

‘Ah, but the Third Hallows is the true Cloak of Invisibility, Mr Nott! I mean to say, it is not a traveling cloak imbued with a Disillusionment Charm, or carrying a Bedazzling Hex or else woven from Demiguise hair, which will hide one initially but fade with the years until it turns opaque. We are talking about 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. How many cloaks have you ever seen like that, Mr Nott?’

Theodore opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, looking more confused than ever. He, Harry, Tracey, and Allison glanced at one another, and Harry knew that they were all thinking the same thing. It so happened that a cloak exactly like the one Xenophilius had just described was in the room with them at that very moment.

‘Exactly,’ said Xenophilius, as if he had defeated them all in reasoned argument. ‘None of you have ever seen such a thing. The possessor would be immeasurably rich, would he not?’

He glanced out of the window again. The sky was now tinged with the faintest trace of pink.

‘Okay,’ said Theodore, disconcerted. ‘Let’s say the cloak exists…what about the other two, Mr Lovegood, like the stone?’

‘What of it?’

‘A stone that brings people back from the dead? If it existed every witch and wizard would know about it and would be fighting to possess it, so how could it possibly be real?’

‘Prove that it is not,’ said Xenophilius.

Theodore looked like he was reaching his limit for frustration.

‘T-that’s not how research, facts, or discoveries work. Just because I can’t prove it doesn’t exist doesn’t prove it does. You could say anything that’s made up is real with that logic.’

‘Yes, you could,’ said Xenophilius. ‘I am glad to see that you are opening your mind a little.’

‘So the Elder Wand,’ said Harry quickly, before Theodore could explode, ‘you think that exists too?’

‘Oh, well, in that case there is endless evidence,’ said Xenophilius. ‘The Elder Wand is the Hallow that is most easily traced, because of the way in which it passes from hand to hand.’

‘Which is what?’ asked Harry.

‘Which is that the possessor of the wand must capture it from its previous owner, if he is to be truly a master of it,’ said Xenophilius. ‘Surely you have heard of the way the wand came to Egbert the Egregious, after his slaughter of Emeric the Evil? Of how Godelot died in his own cellar after his son, Hereward, took the wand from him? Of the dreadful Loxias, who took the wand from Barnabas Deverill, whom he had killed? The bloody trail of the Elder Wand is splattered across the pages of Wizarding history.’

Harry glanced at Theodore. He was frowning at Xenophilius, but he did not contradict him.

‘If it’s so traceable, where do you believe the wand is now?’ asked Allison.

‘Alas, who knows?’ said Xenophilius, as he gazed out of the window. ‘Who knows where the Elder Wand lies hidden? The trail goes cold with Arcus and Livius. Who can say which of them really defeated Loxias, and which took the wand? And who can say who may have defeated them? History, alas, does not tell us.’

There was a pause. Finally, Theodore asked stiffly, ‘Mr Lovegood, one of the reasons we came was to ask if the Peverell family has anything to do with the Deathly Hallows?’

Xenophilius looked taken aback as something shifted in Harry’s memory, but he could not locate it. Peverell…he had heard that name before…

‘But have you been misleading me, young man!’ said Xenophilius, now sitting up much straighter in his chair and goggling at Theodore. ‘I thought you were new to the Hallows Quest! Many of us Questers believe that the Peverells have everything—everything!—to do with the Hallows!’

‘Who are the Peverells?’ asked Allison.

‘That was the name on a grave we found in Godric’s Hollow that had the mark engraved on it,’ said Tracey, seeming to forget for the moment her no talking to Allison policy. ‘Ignorus Peverell.’

‘Exactly!’ said Xenophilius, his forefinger raised pedantically. ‘The sign of the Deathly Hallows on Ignotus’s grave is conclusive proof!’

‘Proof of what?’ asked Tracey.

‘Why, that the three brothers in the story were actually the three Peverell brothers, Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus! That they were the original owners of the Hallows!’

With another glance at the window he got to his feet, picked up the tray, and headed for the spiral staircase.

‘You will stay for dinner?’ he called, as he vanished downstairs again. ‘Everybody always requests our recipe for Freshwater Plimpy soup.’

‘How was Sirius friends with this man if he tried to poison him every time he visited,’ muttered Theodore under his breath to Harry.

‘He was part dog, maybe he didn’t care what he was fed,’ shrugged Harry.