Chapter 36: 36
Chapter 36: Lost It All
Grimmauld Place, August 21st 1997
I pace in front of the fireplace in the drawing room what must be the tenth time in a short while, feeling the anger course inside me, the fear and the frustration mingling in my mind.
I curse inwardly, knowing that it is pointless to utter the words out loud, since there is no one in here to listen. Well, Kreacher is, but the elf doesn't really respond unless it is summoned.
Potter and his friends have left to meet Xenophilius Lovegood, a man who was seen wearing Grindelwald's symbol in the Weasley wedding. And I'm here. Not by choice.
"We're going to leave the first thing in the morning," Potter finishes after explaining me the plan.
When Potter and his friends decided that it is necessary to leave the house and acquire the book, I argued them – well, mostly him, since he is the one that has a price on his head. When they managed to get the book and read it, and after everyone had recovered from the surprise and the mixed feelings it led to, they started making plans.
Plans that didn't include me, it seems.
I narrow my eyes at Potter, who lingers on the doorway, as if he's not sure if he is welcome to my room, and my bed anymore. "May I assume you are merely informing me that you are leaving?" I ask darkly.
Potter looks down, a small frown forming between his brows. "Yes." He says quietly.
"And you expect me to let you?" I ask, my voice sharper.
Potter cringes as he moves his gaze back to mine. "We thought – I thought – that it's too much of a risk for you to come," he says, lifting his chin up in a mild defiance.
"And why is that?"
Potter trails a frustrated hand through his hair. "Because…no one knows you are alive…what if we're caught and…"
I arch a brow at him.
"Fine," Potter says with a sigh. "Lunas's father, he doesn't know you. And if he does…he might think that you are a Death Eater. And we can't have him doubting us."
"I thought you said he was an ally?" I ask warningly, walking closer to him.
Potter grits his teeth. "He is. Luna's a good friend. And her family openly supports me."
I stop in front of him, watching him studiously, wondering if what he's saying, is merely an excuse, after what happened some days ago. When I saw the memory.
There's a long silence, but the look in Potter's eyes is resolute.
"Then you must go," I murmur and move past him, towards the hallway. "I'm going to – "
"To the drawing room?" Potter asks tightly, sounding disappointed.
I turn to watch him over my shoulder, but he stands still, his back to me. "Yes."
My thoughts move from last night to our last Occlumency training.
Teaching Potter Occlumency, helping him to close his mind from outside threats, has proven to be somewhat…exhausting. And we are both equally guilty for it.
Some days, Potter has surprised me with the strength of his mind. Some days, on the other hand…it feels like he hasn't actually advanced at all, and my attempts to break through his walls have been a mere child's play, after Potter loses his resoluteness and becomes an open book.
As was demonstrated some days ago.
It was difficult. For both of us. Witnessing my brother's last moments.
Seeing Sirius in his element, filled with excitement, with fire in his eyes, and with the fierce need to protect the others. Watching his brilliant spellwork as he fought against multiple opponents. And then…Watching as he was cursed by my cousin. Feeling the coldness and hopelessness spread in my chest as Sirius slips through the Veil, his grey eyes filled with confusion and despair. Feeling the rage and the vindictiveness.
And Potter…he tried to fight me on it, he really did. But I had to see it. He didn't stand a chance. I had to see the memory, and my brother's last moments, even though I knew it would tear me apart.
I haven't really slept in several nights. Instead, I have sat by the tapestry, watching over my brother's flickering date of death, trying to recollect our last conversation. But nothing comes to my mind.
How long has it been since I've last seen him?
I have to admit I was a bit surprised by Hermione's words at breakfast the other day.
"I want to go and see Xenophilius Lovegood."
I lift my brows at her. "What?"
Hermione peers at me over the book; the Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, the book she's been reading nonstop for the past two days, the book I refuse to even look at anymore, not without feeling a surge of bitterness and anger mixing inside me, not after finding out about Dumbledore's past and everything he left unsaid. The only good thing the book has brought, is to clarify me who was the thief that took something from Gregorovitch. It was Grindelwald.
"Xenophilius Lovegood, Luna's father. I want to go and talk to him," Hermione says carefully.
Ron gives Hermione a quizzical look. "Why?"
Hermione places the book down, in the middle of the table, and gives both Ron and me a grave look. "It's that mark, the mark in Beedle the Bard. Look at this!"
I grit my teeth but lean over to see the spot her fingers are tapping unrelentingly. There's a photograph of the original letter that Dumbledore had written to Grindelwald. It still makes me nauseous to think that this cannot be argued to be a lie, since the letter is written by Dumbledore's familiar handwriting.
"The signature," Hermione says excitedly. "Look at the signature!"
And indeed – there's something. Dumbledore has replaced the A of Albus with a tiny version of the same triangular mark inscribed upon The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
"It keeps cropping up, doesn't it?" Ron mutters as he stares at the symbol.
Hermione nods. "I know…And it's not like we can ask Dumbledore or Grindelwald what it means – I don't even know whether Grindelwald's still alive – but we can ask Mr. Lovegood. He was wearing the symbol at the wedding. I have a feeling that it might be important…"
And that has us standing in front of the most peculiar looking home I've ever seen. The path leading to the tower-like building is filled with odd plants, trees and hand-painted signs.
I take in a calming breath before knocking three times on the thick black door, a door that's studded with iron nails and a knocker shaped like an eagle. Seconds after, the door opens and Xenophilius Lovegood stands in front of us, barefooted, his long white hair ruffled and his clothing stained. He has changed quite a lot from the last time I saw him.
"What? What is it? Who are you? What do you want?" Xenophilius asks sharply, his eyes moving from Ron to Hermione, and then, to me. "Oh."
I give the man a polite smile and hold out my hand. "Hello, Mr. Lovegood. I'm Harry, Harry Potter."
Xenophilius merely stares at me, studying me carefully.
"Um…would it be okay if we came in?" I ask hesitantly. "There's something we'd like to ask you."
Xenophilius's focus falters slightly. "I…I'm not sure that's…advisable," he mumbles and looks around us in the garden. "Rather a shock…my word…I…I'm afraid I don't really think I ought to – "
I clear my throat, "I promise you, it won't take long," I say quickly.
"I…oh, all right then," Xenophilius mutters, ushering us in, and slamming the door tightly shut as soon as we've entered the hallway.
If it is warm outside, it is even hotter inside. Why doesn't he use magic to cool the temperature a bit? Ron confirms my thoughts by wiping sweat from his brow and giving me an incredulous look. We walk after Xenophilius to the kitchen, which is very…unique. Colourful, and lively. Just like Luna.
A wrought-iron spiral staircase is positioned in the middle of the room, and as Xenophilius asks us to follow him upstairs, we do. The room above seems like a mix of living room and a workplace, filled with objects, books, and papers in every surface and littered on the floor.
Xenophilius tinkers with one of the objects – an old-fashioned printing press, perhaps – before turning to us. "Why have you come here?"
Hermione gasps suddenly, pointing at an object placed on the opposite wall; an enormous, grey spiral horn, not unlike that of a unicorn. "Mr. Lovegood – what is that?"
"It is the horn of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack," Xenophilius says.
Hermione shakes her head quickly. "No, it isn't!"
I lift a brow at Hermione. "Hermione…now is not the moment…" I mutter.
"Harry, that's an Erumpent horn! It's a Class B Tradeable Material and it's an extraordinary dangerous thing to have in a house!" She says heatedly.
Ron and I share a quizzical look.
"How'd you know it's an Erumpent horn?" Ron asks from Hermione, taking a couple of steps away from the horn.
"There's a description in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them! Mr. Lovegood, you need to get rid of it straightaway…don't you know it can explode at the slightest touch?" Hermione says urgently.
Xenophilius looks harried. "The Crumple-Horned Snorkack is a shy and highly magical creature, and it's horn –"
"Mr. Lovegood. I recognize the grooved markings around the base, that's an Erumpent horn and it's incredibly dangerous - I don't know where you got it –"
"I bought it," Xenophilius says sharply. "Two weeks ago, from a delightful young wizard who knew my interest in the exquisite Snorkack. A little surprise for my Luna. Now," he says, turning towards me, "why exactly have you come here, Mr. Potter?"
"We need some help," I tell the man, before Hermione can continue arguing about the horn.
"Ah…Help…Hmm," Xenophilius mutters, his eyes flickering to my scar. "Yes. The thing is…helping Harry Potter…rather dangerous…"
Ron frowns at the man. "Aren't you the one who keeps telling everyone it's their first duty to help Harry, in that magazine of yours?"
Xenophilius glances at the printing press, still banging and clattering in the corner. "Er - yes, I have expressed that view. However –"
"That's for everyone else to do, not you personally?" Ron asks sharply.
Xenophilius remains silent, his eyes nervously darting between the three of us.
"Where's Luna?" Hermione asks then. "Let's see what she thinks."
Xenophilius seems even more alarmed at the mention of his daughter. "Luna is down at the stream, fishing for Freshwater Plimpies. She...she will like to see you. I'll go and call her and then – yes, very well. I shall try to help you."
Xenophilius disappears into the staircase. I share a puzzled look with Hermione and Ron.
"Cowardly old fart. Luna's got ten times his guts," Ron grumbles.
Hermione purses her lips but looks like she's agreeing with Ron.
"He's probably worried about what'll happen to them if the Death Eaters find out I was here," I say, to Xenophilius's defence.
Hermione shakes her head slightly. "I think he's an old hypocrite, telling everyone else to help you and trying to worm out of it himself. And for heaven's sake keep away from that horn," she says sharply, when I cross the room to glance out from the window.
I'm glad that I kept my head and didn't ask Regulus to come with us. I wanted to, I really did. But I meant what I said, and…Xenophilius has proven that my hunch was correct. Had Regulus been here, Xenophilius probably wouldn't even have opened the door to us.
I move away from the windows and let my eyes trail over the room. There's a strange object; a stone bust of a beautiful witch with a stern expression, wearing the strangest headdress I've seen. There're two golden ear trumpets curving out from its sides, and a tiny pair of glittering blue wings stuck to a leather strap that runs over the top of the witch's head, while one orange radish is stuck to a second strap around the witch's forehead.
"Look at this," I mutter, watching the object closely.
Ron hums next to me, "Fetching…surprised he didn't wear that to the wedding."
"Ah, you have spotted my pet invention," Xenophilius says as he emerges from the staircase, a tea tray between his hands, making us all jump slightly as we hadn't heard him coming back. "It is modelled, fittingly enough, upon the head of the beautiful Rowena Ravenclaw, 'Wit beyond measure is a man's greatest treasure!'" He says proudly. "May I offer you all an infusion of Gurdyroots? We make it ourselves."
He doesn't wait for any of us to say anything, before he starts to pour the deep purple drink into the cups. "Luna is down beyond Bottom Bridge, she is most excited that you are here…She ought not to be too long, she has caught nearly enough Plimpies to make soup for all of us…Do sit down and help yourselves to sugar," Xenophilius rambles, and then distributes the drinks before removing a pile of papers from one of the armchairs and sitting down.
"Now. How may I help you, Mr. Potter?"
"Well…it's about that symbol you were wearing around your neck at Bill and Fleur's wedding, Mr. Lovegood. We wondered what it meant," I say hesitantly, as all three of us sit down on a small sofa.
Xenophilius gives us a curious look. "Are you referring to the sign of the Deathly Hallows?"
I glance at Hermione and Ron, and by the puzzled looks, I know that they too don't have any idea what Xenophilius is talking about.
"The Deathly Hallows?"
Xenophilius nods. "That's right. You haven't heard of them? I'm not surprised. Very, very few wizards believe. Witness that knuckle-headed young man at your brother's wedding," he says, nodding at Ron, "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."
"I'm afraid I still don't really understand," I tell him, and take a sip of the odd-looking drink out of politeness, and nearly gag. The taste is quite…disgusting.
"Well, you see, believers seek the Deathly Hallows," Xenophilius explains and sips the disgusting drink with a delightful expression.
"But what are the Deathly Hallows?" Hermione asks curiously.
Xenophilius puts away his cup and rubs his hands together. "I assume that you are familiar with 'The Tale of the Three Brothers'?"
I shake my head, while both Hermione and Ron say, "Yes." I give them a puzzled look.
"Well, well, Mr. Potter, the whole thing starts with 'The Tale of the Three Brothers'…I have a copy somewhere…" He mutters, and starts to glance over the cluttered room, when Hermione interrupts him.
"I've got a copy, Mr. Lovegood, I've got it right here," She says and pulls out The Tales of Beedle the Bard from the small, beaded bag.
"The original?" Xenophilius asks sharply, looking rather intrigued. "Well then, why don't you read it out aloud? Much the best way to make sure we all understand."
Hermione gives Ron and me a hesitant look before she clears her throat. "Er…all right…'There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight –'"
"Midnight, our mum always told us," Ron interrupts from his comfortable position on the too-small sofa.
Hermione gives him an irritated look.
"Sorry, I just think it's a bit spookier if it's midnight!" Ron says with a shrug.
"Yeah, because we really need a bit more fear in our lives," I mutter under my breath.
Ron snorts and Hermione purses her lips before she continues, "'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 –'"
"Sorry," I interrupt incredulously, "but Death spoke to them?"
"It's a fairy tale, Harry!"
"Right, sorry…Go on."
"'And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of the three new victims, for travellers 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 oldest brother.
"'Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, 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's got an Invisibility Cloak?" I interrupt again, a smirk forming into my lips.
"So that he can sneak up on people," Ron says easily, mischief glinting in his eyes. "Sometimes he gets bored of running at them, flapping his arms and shrieking…sorry, Hermione."
As Hermione goes on with the story, reading how the three brothers went on with their lives with their new gifts from Death, my mind starts picturing a world where these objects exist…And really, it's not that hard, since there are such things as Invisibility Cloaks – I even have one. But the idea that it's from…Death…is a bit…ludicrous.
And the wand – it couldn't hurt to have an Elder Wand in your sleeve…a wand that will help you win any duel. A wand that would probably beat Voldemort himself. A wand that could make me invincible.
But then…then there's the stone. At first, it seemed like the most inconvenient of the Death's gifts, but…what if you could bring back the dead? What if you could see the people who were taken from you? And talk to them?
" – 'And so Death took the second brother from his own'," Hermione continues reading, and my eyes flicker towards the others; Ron is lounging on Hermione's other side, his legs stretched out, a focused expression on his face as he listens carefully. Xenophilius is staring out of the window, looking like his mind is somewhere else.
"'But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had 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, and, equals, they departed this life.'"
Hermione closes the book after she finishes.
There's a short silence before Xenophilius seems to realise that the story's over. He then gives us a meaningful look. "Well, there you are."
"Sorry?" Hermione says in confusion.
"Those are the Deathly Hallows," Xenophilius says. He then lifts a quill and parchment from the table nearby. "The Elder Wand," he says and draws a straight vertical line on the parchment. "The Resurrection Stone," he continues, drawing a circle on top of the line. "And finally, The Cloak of Invisibility," he says, drawing a triangle, surrounding the circle and the line, completing the symbol that has been in our thoughts these past days. "Together, they are the Deathly Hallows."
Hermione frowns at the picture. "But…there's no mention of the words 'Deathly Hallows' in the story."
"Well, of course not," Xenophilius says simply. "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."
The Master of Death?
"Luna ought to have enough Plimpies soon," Xenophilius says suddenly.
"When you say 'Master of Death' –"Ron asks slowly.
"Master," Xenophilius interrupts, "Conqueror. Vanquisher. Whichever term you prefer."
"But then…do you mean…that you believe these objects – these Hallows – really exist?" Hermione asks, and I can see how hard she tries to keep disbelief out of her voice.
Xenophilius lifts his brows innocently. "Well, of course."
"But…Mr. Lovegood, how can you possibly believe – ?"
"Luna has told me all about you, young lady," Xenophilius says sharply. "You are, I gather, not unintelligent, but painfully limited. Narrow. Close-minded."
Hermione gapes at him.
"Perhaps you ought to try on the hat, Hermione," Ron says with a subtle smirk, nodding towards the ridiculous crown.
Hermione shoots a warning glance at Ron before turning her focus back to Xenophilius. "Mr. Lovegood…We all know that there are such things as Invisibility Cloaks. They are rare, but they exist. But –"
"Ah, but the Third Hallow is a true Cloak of Invisibility, Miss Granger! I mean to say, it is not a travelling 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, Miss Granger?"
Hermione opens her mouth but then closes it quickly. She's probably thinking the exact same thing I am, and based on Ron's expression, so is Ron. The cloak Xenophilius just described is stowed in Hermione's beaded bag.
Xenophilius looks satisfied. "Exactly. None of you have ever seen such a thing. The possessor would be immeasurably rich, would he not?" He glances out of the window. It must be close to midday soon.
"All right," Hermione mutters, "Say the cloak existed…but…what about that stone, Mr. Lovegood? The thing you call the Resurrection Stone?"
"What of it?"
"Well, how can that be real?"
"Prove that it is not," Xenophilius counters.
Hermione looks irritated. "But that's – I'm sorry, but that's completely ridiculous! How can I possibly prove it doesn't exist? Do you expect me to get hold of – of all the pebbles in the world and test them? I mean, you could claim that anything's real if the only basis for believing in it is that nobody's proved it doesn't exist!"
Xenophilius looks smug. "Yes, you could. I am glad to see that you are opening your mind a little."
"So, the Elder Wand," I say quickly, before Hermione can continue arguing with the man, "you think that exists too?"
"Oh, well, in that case there is endless evidence," Xenophilius says. "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?" I ask bluntly.
"Which is that the possessor of the wand must capture it from its previous owner, if he is to be truly master of it. 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 Baraabas Deverill, whom he had killed? The bloody trail of the Elder Wand is splattered across the pages of Wizarding history." Xenophilius drones on.
I glance at Hermione, trying to see what she's thinking about it, but based on the small frown between her brows, the people Xenophilius mentioned seem to be actual historical people.
"So, where do you think the Elder Wand is now?" Ron asks.
Xenophilius gives a light shrug. "Alas, who knows? 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 does not tell us the exact line, but merely the beginning."
"What do you mean?" I ask, growing more curious by the minute.
Xenophilius sighs. "Many of us Questers believe 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," he says, sparing another glance at the window.
The names do not say anything to me, and while Hermione and Ron are both still frowning, Xenophilius stands up and moves towards the staircase. "You will stay for lunch?" he asks, glancing at us before descending the stairs, "Everybody always requests our recipe for Freshwater Plimply soup."
"Probably to show it to the Poisoning Department at St. Mungo's," Ron mutters under his breath.
"What do you think?" I ask quietly from Hermione, after we've made sure Xenophilius cannot hear us.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione says with a weary sigh, "it's a pile of utter rubbish. This can't be what the sign really means. This must just be his weird take on it. What a waste of time."
Ron hums in agreement.
"You didn't believe it either?" I ask from Ron.
"Nah, that story's just one of those things you tell kids to teach them lessons, isn't it? 'Don't go looking for trouble, don't go pick fights, don't go messing around with stuff that's best left alone! Just keep your head down, mind your own business, and you'll be okay. Come to think of it…maybe that story's why elder wands are supposed to be unlucky."
"What are you talking about?"
"One of those superstitions, isn't it? 'May-born witches will marry Muggles.' 'Jinx by twilight, undone by midnight.' 'Wand of cider, never prosper.' You must have heard them. My mum's full of them."
Hermione gives Ron a stern look. "Harry and I were raised by Muggles…We were taught different superstitions. But I think you're right…It's just a morality tale. It is obvious which gift is the best, which one you ought to choose –"
All of us speak at the same time;
"The Cloak."
"The Wand."
"The Stone."
We exchange a surprised look.
"You're supposed to say the Cloak," Ron says to Hermione, "but you wouldn't need to be invisible if you had the wand. An unbeatable wand, Hermione, come on!"
I shrug at them. "We've already got an Invisibility Cloak."
"And it's helped us rather a lot, in case you hadn't noticed!" Hermione continues. "Whereas the wand would be bound to attract trouble –"
"Only if you shouted about it," Ron counters, "Only if you were prat enough to go dancing around waving it over your head, and singing, 'I've got an unbeatable wand, come and have a go if you think you're strong enough.' As long as you kept your trap shut –"
" –Yes, but could you keep your trap shut?" Hermione asks wryly, "You know the only true thing he said to us was that there have been stories about extra-powerful wands for hundreds of years."
I lift my brows at her, "There have?" Ron and I both ask.
Hermione gives us an exasperated look. "Honestly, have you listened at all during the History of Magic course?"
Ron and I glance at each other, our lips twitching upwards. "Nope." We say in unison.
Hermione sighs. "The Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, they crop up under different names through the centuries, usually in the possession of some Dark wizard who's boasting about them. Professor Binns mentioned some of them, but…it's all nonsense. Wands are only as powerful as the wizards who use them. Some wizards just like to boast that theirs are bigger and better than other people's…"
Ron snorts loudly.
"But how do you know that those wands – the Deathstick, and the Wand of Destiny – aren't the same wand, surfacing over the centuries under different names?" I ask Hermione.
Ron hums quietly. "What if they're all really the Elder Wand, made by Death?"
There's a short silence before Ron speaks again, eyeing me searchingly, "So…why would you take the stone?"
I give him a mild shrug, having already anticipated the question. "…Well, if you could bring people back, we could have Sirius...Mad-Eye...Dumbledore...my parents," I say. "Although, according to Beedle the Bard, they wouldn't want to come back, would they?" I continue quietly. "I don't suppose there have been loads of other stories about a stone that can raise the dead, have there?"
Hermione pats my shoulder. "No," She says softly. "I don't think anyone except Mr. Lovegood could kid themselves that's possible. Beedle probably took the idea from the Sorcerer's Stone; you know, instead of a stone to make you immortal, a stone to reverse death."
All three of us scrunch up our noses at the smell that is wafting up from the kitchen. I hope Xenophilius is not expecting us to eat that…
"What about the Cloak, though?" Ron says, "Don't you realise, he's right? I've got so used to Harry's Cloak and how good it is, I never stopped to think. I've never heard of one like Harry's. It's infallible. We've never been spotted under it –"
"Of course not – we're invisible when we're under it, Ron!"
Ron nods quickly. "But all the stuff he said about other cloaks, and they're not exactly ten a Knut, you know, is true! It's never occurred to me before but I've heard stuff about charms wearing off cloaks when they get old, or them being ripped apart by spells so they've got holes, Harry's was owned by his dad, so it's not exactly new, is it, but it's just…perfect!"
"Yes, all right, but Ron, the stone still doesn't make any sense," Hermione argues quietly.
I stand up, needing to walk around a bit since the sofa really is too small for the three of us. As I glance around me, I almost jump in surprise as I find my own face staring back at me from the upper level. What…?
I move closer to the staircase, and realise that it is not in fact a mirror…but a painting. I start to walk upstairs.
"Harry? What are you doing?" Hermione hisses quietly.
My friends follow me and soon we emerge to the next floor, where I find more paintings; of me, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville.
"Wow, Luna," Ron breathes as he examines them.
I take in all the details in her room; the picture of a woman and a younger looking Luna, hugging. Odd trinkets on the bedside table. Flowery mural on one of the walls. It's all so Luna, so familiar. But something seems out of place.
"There's dust everywhere," Hermione whispers after a short silence. "How odd…" She says slowly as she takes in the empty wardrobe.
"What's going on?" Ron mutters.
Xenophilius makes a clattering noise downstairs and we all decide to quickly step back to the sitting room. Not long after, the man emerges from the staircase, carrying a tray with bowls, undoubtedly filled with the foul-smelling food.
"Mr. Lovegood," Hermione says slowly. "Where's Luna?"
Xenophilius stops in his tracks. "Excuse me?"
"Where's Luna?" I repeat Hermione's question.
Xenophilius looks nervous. "I – I've already told you. She is down at the Bottom Bridge, fishing for Plimpies."
Ron gives the tray a meaningful look. "So why have you only laid that tray for four?"
Xenophilius gapes at us, his arms shaking slightly, the tray rattling.
"I don't think Luna's been here for weeks." I finally say, watching the older man sharply. "Her clothes are gone, her bed hasn't been slept in. Where is she? And why do you keep looking out of the window?"
Xenophilius suddenly drops the tray, crockery smashing against the floor while soup floods everywhere. All three of us quickly draw our wands. By the looks of Xenophilius's hand near his pocket, he was about to, as well.
Just then, the printing press gives out a mild burst, spurting out numerous Quibblers that fly around the room, falling at our feet.
"Harry, look at that," Hermione whispers, her wand still pointed at Xenophilius.
I glance downwards. My face is in the front of the Quibbler, above the words "Undesirable Number One" and "Reward: 10.000 galleons on his head". Fuck.
"The Quibbler's going for a new angle, then?" I ask coldly, overwhelmed by his betrayal. I thought Luna's father supported me, and that he could be counted as an ally. "Is that what you were doing when you went into the garden, Mr. Lovegood? Sending an owl to the Ministry?"
Xenophilius swallows nervously. "They took my Luna," he whispers, "Because of what I've been writing. They took my Luna and I don't know where she is, what they've done to her. But they might give her back to me if I – If I –"
"Hand over Harry?" Hermione grits through her teeth.
"No deal." Ron growls. "Get out of the way, we're leaving."
Xenophilius gasps. "N-No…you can't…They will be here any moment. I must save Luna. I cannot lose Luna. You must not leave."
I stare at the man, stunned that he'd do this to us, but at the same time…my parents gave away everything for me, too. "Don't make us hurt you. Get out of the way, Mr. Lovegood."
"HARRY!" Hermione screams suddenly, her voice filled with dread.
It's too late.
Figures on broomsticks fly past the windows, and that's when we make our mistake – taking our eyes off from Xenophilius.
I barely have time to tackle Ron and Hermione down as Xenophilius's Stunning Spell zooms over our heads.
Instead, it hits straight at the Erumpent horn.
Time stops for a fragment, and then, there's a massive blast, an explosion, blowing up the entire room. I'm flown backwards, straight to the opposite direction, with all furniture and paper and rubble, and end up hitting my head against the wall with a thud.
My ears are ringing, and as I try to blink my eyes open, they sting from the thick white dust. "Hermione! Ron!" I croak, hoping that they can at least hear me. I cough as I try to take a lungful of air through the dust and call out my friends again.
Half of the ceiling has fallen down, the end of Luna's bed hanging out from the hole. Torn parchment is littered everywhere, as are pieces of rubble, concrete and metal.
There's a sudden movement near me, and I quickly lift my wand, thanking Merlin that it is still in one piece – and in my hand. But luckily, it's only Hermione, covered in dust. She quickly presses her fingers on her lips when she sees me opening my mouth.
The door downstairs bursts open at the same time.
"Didn't I tell you there was no need to hurry, Travers?" a coarse voice speaks, "Didn't I tell you this nutter was just raving as usual?"
Xenophilius whelps in pain. "No...no...upstairs...Potter!"
One of the incoming men growls. "I told you last week Lovegood, we weren't coming back for anything less than some solid information! Remember last week? When you wanted to swap your daughter for that stupid bleeding headdress? And the week before…?"
There's another crash, and Xenophilius makes another pained sound.
"…When you thought we'd give her back if you offered us proof there are Cumple Headed Snorkacks?" The voice speaks roughly, whacking sounds – and Xenophilius's gasps – punctuating his words.
"No – no – I beg of you!" Xenophilius cries desperately. "It really is Potter, Really!"
There's another loud banging sound, "And now it turns out you only called us here to try and blow us up!" The Death Eater yells, while Xenophilius sobs in pain.
"The place looks like it's about to fall in, Selwyn," the other man – Travers – says in an unruffled voice. "The stairs are completely blocked. I Could try clearing it? Might bring the place down."
"You lying piece of filth!" Selwyn growls, "You have never seen Potter in your life, have you? Thought you'd lure us here to kill us, did you? And you think you'll get your girl back like this?"
"I swear...I swear...Potter's upstairs!" Xenophilius whimpers.
"Homenum Revelio." Travers grunts from the foot of the stairs.
Hermione lets out a quiet gasp, and the next second, I can feel something sweep over me. They know we're here.
"There's someone up there all right, Selwyn," Travers says a moment later.
"It's Potter, I tell you, it's Potter!" Xenophilius insists, his voice wavering. "Please...please...give me Luna, just let me have Luna..."
Selwyn scoffs. "You can have your little girl, Lovegood, if you get up those stairs and bring me down Harry Potter. But if this is a plot, if it's a trick, if you've got an accomplice waiting up there to ambush us, we'll see if we can spare a bit of your daughter for you to bury."
Xenophilius weeps quietly, but it sounds like he's moving towards us, trying to get through the mess in the stairs.
"Shit," I whisper, glancing over, trying to see where Ron is. "We have to get out of here," I tell Hermione, before I start to quietly dig myself out of all the rubble.
Hermione manages to locate Ron, nearly covered in pieces of furniture, paper and dust, his head only peeking from between them. We quickly move closer to him, all the while Xenophilius approaches us in the staircase. Finally, Hermione manages to free Ron, levitating the pieces of wood and metal away from him.
"All right." Hermione whispers. "Do you trust me Harry?" She asks urgently.
Xenophilius is almost at the top of the stairs.
I give her a quick nod. Hermione digs through her bag and extracts the Cloak.
"Okay. Ron, put the Cloak on. Both of you, hold on to me, tight," She instructs.
"Why me? Shouldn't Harry –"
"Ron, now's not the time!" Hermione hisses, "Just put it on!"
Ron does so without saying anything more, and we both grab on to Hermione.
"Hold tight…any second now…"
The moment Xenophilius's white, tear-stricken face appears at the top of the stairs, Hermione screams, "Obliviate!" Aiming straight to his face.
Then, not even a second later, she aims her wand to the ground. "Deprimo!"
There's another blast – smaller than before, but we all fall downwards, landing in the middle of the kitchen with a burst of rubble and dust, holding on for dear life.
Someone shouts in the hallway, and I barely make eye contact with the two utterly dumbfounded looking men – Death Eaters – before Hermione turns on the spot, pulling Ron and me with her into the spinning emptiness of Disapparition.
We quickly stumble inside the house, having Apparated on the top step outside Grimmauld Place, and collapse, panting, in a pile of exhaustion and relief in the hallway.
"That treacherous old bleeder!" Ron wheezes, pulling the Cloak away and giving it back to me. "Hermione, you're a genius, a total genius! I can't believe we got out of that!"
Hermione looks drained. "Didn't I say it was an Erumpent horn, didn't I tell him? And now his house has been blown apart!"
"Serves him right," Ron growls, wincing as he pulls a finger-sized stick of wood from his thigh. "Shit," He curses, pressing the wound.
Hermione frowns at him. "No, let me," She says and flicks her wand at the cut, healing it instantly.
"Cheers. What'd you reckon they'll do to him?"
"Oh I hope they don't kill him!" Hermione whispers anxiously, "That's why I wanted the Death Eaters to get a glimpse of Harry before we left, so they knew Xenophilius hadn't been lying!"
"What?"
All our heads turn quickly towards the hallway, and only then I pause to think that it is a miracle that we haven't already woken up Regulus's mother's portrait. I quickly realise that Regulus must've been keeping the portrait quiet. And has been there the whole time, waiting for us.
"Um…" Ron mumbles.
Hermione glances first at Regulus and then me. "Ron, we should…get cleaned up," She says and stands up, extending her hand for Ron.
Ron gives her a quizzical look. "But 'Mione –"
"Not now, Ronald," Hermione says through her teeth, and then gives me a meaningful look. "We'll talk later in the library, okay?"
I nod slowly at her. "Um…yeah. Sure."
Regulus stays quiet, his expression unreadable as my friends walk past him towards upstairs.
I stand up slowly, trying to gauge the situation. Trying to figure out how angry he is, since, even without knowing half of the story, he already heard the worst of it. How disappointed at me he will be, when he learns that I've risked my life, and my friends' lives for what? For a children's tale?
But Regulus continues to watch me silently.
I trail a hand through my hair, which is covered in dust, and give him an apologising shrug. My shoulders drop in defeat. "I'm…I'm sorry…I should've –"
But the rest of my words die in my throat as Regulus walks up to me in two long strides and pulls me into a searing kiss.
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