The radio that sat on the mantel beside Remus' clock was tuned to a Muggle station for the evening. Fred had changed the station unable to listen to one another list of casualties, Death Eater victories, and the hopes that Harry knew that those people out there supported him.

Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
Even if only in my dreams...

Sang out, Bing Crosby.

"Well that's cheery," Fred grumbled as he turned off the radio.

"It was written during World War II," Hermione explained. Harry noticed she was rubbing at the corner of her eye as she said,  "It was a Muggle war around the time the continent was facing Grindelwald."

Fred nodded, "Still, not the thing we need to lift the spirits."

"Yeah," agreed Harry. "I didn't realize we were that close to the holidays."

After the break in the four had been more reluctant to leave the house. The number of Death Eaters in the square on watch had at least tripled. Harry's visions of Voldemort's actions were coming less frequently. The dark wizard seemed to still be after the thing that was stolen from Gregovich many years before, by Grindelwald if Harry was right.

As far as they knew, Voldemort hadn't gone to check the condition of the remaining Horcruxes. The only change was that Nagini was in more of the visions, but not all. The wizard seemed to want to keep the snake close but was still willing to send it out for some important tasks.

Hermione pulled out a calendar she had tucked into her ever present beaded-bag. She ran a finger down the month of December. "If they stay true to the holiday schedule of the past the students should be heading home in the next few days."

Harry looked down sadly at his lap, "It's too bad it doesn't matter.  Even if we wanted to visit someone, we can't."

"What do you mean mate," George demanded.

"We can't go and see them," Harry said heavily.

"Why can't we," asked Fred.

"We can't put them in any more danger," Harry said as he ran a hand through his already messy hair.

"Mate, if we're going to talk to anyone that's still at Hogwarts, this is going to be our only chance. There's no way we're going to be able to get into the castle."  Fred pointed out.

Harry shook his head. "It's too dangerous."

"Don't you want to know what's happening to your girlfriend," George asked.

"Of course I do," Harry sighed. "But me trying to drop in on her is only going to put her at greater risk. You've seen what her dad's been writing. How long do you think they'll let him get away with that sort of thing? Contact with Undesirable Number One, the Ministry will be shipping them both off to Azkaban in the hour."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that Harry," Hermione said softly.

All three boys turned to look at the bushy-haired girl who sat curled around her copy of Hogwarts a History.

"What's that Hermione," George asked.

"They've taken Luna," Hermione said looking at the coin that lay in her palm.

"When," Harry demanded.

Hermione frowned. "Just now, I suppose. They boarded the Hogwarts Express and got her."

"How," Fred began but was unsure how to continue.

"Neville saw it?" Harry asked.

"I think so," Hermione said nodding. "Where are they going to take her?"

Harry sighed, "How am I supposed to know?"

"Maybe one of the Order members might have an idea," Hermione suggested.

"And how are we supposed to get hold of one of them," George asked.

The girl ignored the annoyed tone of the redhead. "Do you still have that mirror Sirius gave you a few Christmases back, Harry?"

"No," Harry sighed. "I gave it to Luna."

"Luna has the mirror," Hermione repeated. "She just needs to call Remus and he can come to her aide."

"He's supposed to breakout her of Azkaban by himself," Fred said in disbelief.

"They won't take her to Azkaban, at least not at first," Harry said with a frown.

"Why wouldn't they," George asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You remember what that one bloke at Ministry said, 'they're taking anyone they think has knowledge of Harry Potter or the other undesirables to Malfoy Manor.'" Harry said pacing in front of the fire. "Now, we just need to figure out a way to get into Malfoy Manor."

Harry paced in front of the fireplace muttering to himself.

"Harry," Hermione said softly. "What are you trying to do?"

"Figure out how the bloody Hell to get into Malfoy Manor," Harry snapped. "How the Hell do we get into the Malfoy's warded mansion? We have no idea where they could have put her."

"We don't," Hermione agreed, "but we know someone who probably has a good idea. He knows the Malfoys better than anyone one here."

Harry stopped pacing. "Dobby," he called out clearly.

The elf appeared with a crack before Harry.

"Harry Potter sir is callings Dobby sir,"  the elf asked bowing low in front of Harry.

"We think somebody we know is being held in Malfoy Manor. Do you know where they might do that?" Harry asked.

"Yes Harry Potter sir, Dobby is knowing," Dobby said uncomfortably. "The basement is holdings peoples. It's not a good place Harry Potter sir."

"I know Dobby," Harry said. "They're holding one of my friends there."

"Dobby is helping Harry Potter sir," the elf promised. "How is Dobby helping Harry Potter?"

"Can you help us get in there so we can rescue our friend?" Harry asked.

The little elf shook his head. "No Harry Potter," the elf said.
"Harry Potter must not go there. Dobby is rescuing Harry Potter's friend for him."

"Dobby, we can't ask you to do that," Hermione said horrified by the idea of making such a request of the elf.

"Dobby is doing for Harry Potter," the little house elf insisted.

"Dobby," Harry said softly, "that's really great of you to volunteer but I don't want you to get hurt."

"Harry Potter and his friends can't go into Malfoy Manor. They will get hurt. Dobby can go and no one will know," Dobby argued.

"Why won't they know," Harry asked.

"House elf magic is different than that of wizards. We's can go wheres wizards can't," Dobby explained.

"Of course," Hermione said stepping closer to the pair. "Think about it, Harry. They can Apparate in and out of Hogwarts when we can't."

Harry bit his lip uncertainly. No matter how mad the little elf might drive him he didn't want the little creature to be hurt for him or any of his friends.

"Let Dobby help Harry Potter," the elf begged.

Harry sighed, "Okay."

"Where he's going to bring her," Fred asked throwing another wrench in the works.

"He can bring her here," Harry said.

"Is that a good idea? We're bringing another person under the Fidelius Charm. We don't know how strong the wards are as is," George pointed out.

"She's already been here," Hermione informed the twins.

"When," the boys demanded together.

"Just after the wedding. She was with us when Kingsley's Petronas arrived. Hermione grabbed the both of us here like we planned."

"Alright," Fred agreed.

Harry nodded. "You can go and get her whenever you're ready," he said to the elf. "Make sure you don't get caught." Harry eye's locked onto the tennis ball green ones of the elf. "I know you're a free elf so don't have to take orders but I don’t want you or Luna to get hurt."

"Dobby won't let Harry Potter down," elf told him earnestly.

"I know you won't," Harry said with a small smile.

Dobby disappeared with a crack. Nobody knew how long it would take for the elf to return.  It had taken Kreacher over a week to find Mundungus. Dobby knew where Luna was most likely to be what he needed was to make sure he wasn't seen taking Luna. There was no way for anyone in the house to know how many people were watching Luna, or that she was being held where they thought.

~~~*****~~~*****~~~

The crack of the elf appearing again left then twenty minutes later shocked the four of them sitting in the living room. Luna stood next to Dobby the butterbeer cork earrings back in place. She wore a torn brightly colored sweater and a clashing set of overalls. She was also missing her right shoe Harry noticed. Luna wasn't the only person Dobby had brought back with him. A crumpled old man lay curled on his side. His wrinkled face was pinched in pain.

"Hullo Harry Potter," Luna greeted her boyfriend as if she had not just been rescued from the depth of a Death Eaters' basement and exposed to Merlin knew what sort of treatment.
The three others had their wands pointed at the new arrivals.

"We need to make sure they are who they say they are," Hermione reminded them.

Harry nodded, trying to think of a good question to ask to ensure it was indeed his girlfriend. He racked his brains and said, "Why did we first met?"

Harry missed the look of confusion that passed across the faces of his friends. He had never in great detail discussed how he met Luna back at the beginning of his third year. They knew he met her and he like everyone else, considered her a bit strange. That was to be expected.

"You thought you were mad because you could see thestrals. You were afraid one was going to attack me at the edge of the Forbidden Forest," Luna said airily looking around the room.

"And who's that," George as of the old man still lying curled on the floor.

"It's Mr. Ollivander," Luna answered for them. "They've been holding him quite a long time."

The twins knelt down to help the old man into the chair. The man's silver eyes surveyed the room.

"Harry Potter," he greeted. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven and a half inches long, Hermione Granger willow and unicorn hair, twelve inches long."

"It's him," agreed Hermione. She began to move her wand over the man casting various spells she had learned from Harry's first aid book.

"How long have they held you Mr. Ollivander," Harry asked worryingly.

"A long-time...months...years..." Ollivander said as Hermione continued to mutter spells around him.

"Why did they want you," Harry asked gently.

"The wands," Ollivander croaked. "The twin cores he wanted to find away around the twin cores. He wanted to ensure the next time he faces you the magic of the wands themselves will not be able to protect you."

"Bugger," George breathed.

"He seeks a new wand, one greater than all others ever created," Ollivander continued.

"Double bugger," agreed Fred.

"A wand is only as good as the wizard wielding it," Hermione insisted.

"Wands are not a simple matter of a bit of wood and a magical core," Ollivander protested even in his weakened state his voice was strong. "If it were simply as that choosing a wand would be as simple as buying a new pair of socks. The wand chooses the wizard,"  the ancient wizard insisted.

"And You-Know-Who is looking for the greatest wand ever created," Harry grumbled. "Is there one wand supposed to be better than all the others? Is it made of something unique? Does it have special powers?"

Hermione passed the aged wizard several vials of potions to drink delaying his answer.

"There have been tales throughout history of such wands, the Death Stick, the Wand of Destiny," Ollivander replied between sips of water Hermione gave him to wash the taste of the potions from his mouth. "These wands and their owners have long and bloodied histories. There is no way to know if this is one wand or many. If it was the particularly talented and destructive wizard."

"It's one wand," Luna said from her place on the sofa next to Fred who was cleaning the cut on Luna's forehead, "the Elder Wand. The wand of the Deathly Hallows."

"The what," Hermione asked.

"It is the talk of children's stories, the wand of the three brothers," Ollivander said dismissively. "Pay her no mind."

"What do you mean it's from a children's story, Mr. Ollivander,"
Harry asked the old man. He was intrigued by this new lead.

"You know the story of The Three Brothers," Mr. Ollivander said before taking a sip of water.

"Yes," everyone said as Harry replied, "No".

"It starts with the story," Mr. Ollivander said.

"Hermione, you still have that copy of Beedle the Bard," George asked.

"It's in my bag," she confirmed.  

"It's in ruins remember," Fred said as he Summoned the book from the depth of the bag.

"We have someone who can read it," George said taking the book from his brother.

"I'm busy George," Hermione scolded still working on Mr. Ollivander.

"I can read them," Luna said popping up to take the book. She flipped it to the appropriate page.  She read them the story of the three brothers who cheated death and were each rewarded with a prize, the oldest an unbeatable wand made of Elder Wood, the middle brother a stone to recall the dead to the world of the living, and the youngest a cloak of invisibility. The gifts of the oldest two brothers betrayed them and lead to their early deaths, it was the last the cloak that let the youngest lived to a ripe old age and greet death as a friend.

"Some believe that the wand in the story is real. That all of these items exist in our world," Ollivander said. "It is utter fantasy."

"The Hallows are real," Luna insisted as she closed the book.
Ollivander made a sound of contempt.

"I'm sorry," Harry said looking at the old man to Luna. "What are the Hallows?"

"The Deathly Hallows," Luna corrected. She opened the text to the first page of the story. She pointed to the triangular eye on the top of the page that had puzzled Hermione for months.

"The Elder Wand," she said running her finger down the centerline of the drawing. "The Resurrection Stone," said moving her finger over the circle of the eye. "And the Cloak of Invisibility,” she outlined the triangle that formed the outer edge of the drawing. “These are the Deathly Hollows, created by brothers Peverell. They are the quest of many.  It is said, the one to possess all three shall be the master of death."

"Complete nonsense," Ollivander grumbled. "No one can defeat Death."

"The master of death," Harry repeated as a cold shiver ran down his spine. "He wants these things so he might defeat death."

"They're not real, boy," Ollivander scolded. "A wand may change allegiances if taken from its master, such as in combat. No wand would be able to deny this magic. Such a powerful wand would be well known through the world."

"It is, the Death Stick, the Wand of Destiny," Luna reminded them. "The trail is lost after the death of Loxais.  Who can say if it was Arcus or Livius that defeated him.”

"A cloak of invisibility that is able to hide one so well even Death cannot find you,"  Ollivander continued skeptically. "This cloak would not be a traveling cloak imbibed with a Disillusionment Charm or woven from the hair of a Demiguise. A cloak that is infallible, no holes, never fades. Do you know of such a cloak?"

No of the younger people responded. They all knew that Harry's fit such a description perfectly.   

"What about the stone?" Hermione asked. She looked away from her patient as she turned to her friend. "How can there possibly be a stone that lets you recall the dead?"

"How can we know all of the things that are possible," Luna asked in response.

"The lack of proof of something doesn't exist doesn't mean it does," Hermione sighed.

"Why not," Luna said looking back to Hermione. "If the Hallows did not exist, then why would they have the mark on Peverells tombstone in Godric's Hollow?"

The brunette shook her bushy head, not sure what to say in response.

"Rubbish," mumbled Ollivander.

Hermione nodded, focusing on the wizard's care once more. She cast several more spells over the old wizard. The silver eyes had closed into an uneasy sleep. She stepped away from the old man, motioning for the others to follow her out of the room to talk. Harry was the last out of the room closing it so only a crack remained open.

"What's wrong, Hermione," Harry asked speaking as if they were still in the room with their sleeping patient.

"There's nothing more I can do for him, Harry. He needs to go to St. Mungo's," Hermione answered speaking just as softly.

"We can't take him there," Harry said his eyes lifting in horror at the very idea. "The Death Eaters would kill us and him as soon as we stepped out of the fireplace."

"I know," Hermione agreed. "He's beyond my capability to treat. If he doesn't get better care,  he'll die."

Harry took a deep breath. He didn't want to be responsible for the death of the greatest wand maker, possibly in all the world.

"Where can we take him?"

Hermione's voice shook, her nerves frayed. "I don't know," she admitted.

Fred smacked his brother's chest, "We should take him to Mum. She's brilliant with healing spells. She had to be with the seven of us always getting into things."

"Do you think she can take care of someone as injured as him?" Harry asked the twins.

The redheads looked at one another as if having a silent conversation.

"She was able to stabilize Kingsley after the breakout attempt a few years ago," George finally said to the remaining pair in the hall.

"I think she's the best choice we have left," Hermione told Harry.

"Alright," Harry agreed. "So we need to Apparate him to the Burrow?"

"I don't think Mum will be there," Fred said looking at his twin.

"Then where is she going to be," Harry asked.

"She'll be in hiding," George confirmed. "If we're lucky she will have gone to stay with Bill and Fleur but she might be with Auntie Muriel." The twins shuttered simultaneously at the mention of their elderly aunt.

"For the sake of everyone's sanity I hope she went to Bill and Fleur's," Fred added.

"Can you get there," Hermione asked.

George nodded, "Bill let us in on the Fidelius Charm before we went into hiding." Asking Fred he said, "One of us goes makes sure they're there and we take him there together?"

"Sounds good to me," Fred agreed.

"No," Harry objected.

Fred cocked his head to the side. "What's the matter, Harry?"

"Somebody has to take Luna," Harry clarified.

"You two as well," Fred remained him. "It'll take us a couple of trips."

"I'm not coming," Harry objected.

"Mum will kill us if we show up without you," George complained.

"I can't go," Harry insisted. "There's something else I need to do."

"What," demanded the twins together.

"What could be so important that it can't wait until after the holidays?" Demanded Fred, his arms crossed over his chest. "We weren't joking when we said Mum would kill us. She's mad enough at us for coming with you on this trip. If she thinks we've abandoned you too."

"I can't," Harry repeated.

"There where do you plan to go?" George requested.

"I need to go to Godric's Hollow," Harry answered. "I think it's time. We've been talking about it for ages."

"Harry, mate, I know you want to see your parents' graves or whatever but why can't it wait until after Christmas," George asked.

Harry shifted from one foot to the other trying to put his jumble of feelings into words. "The holidays aren't important to me. I think going to Godric's Hollow will get me one step closer to defeating You-Know-Who.”

"Are you sure," Hermione asked softly.

"No," Harry admitted, "I'm not sure of anything anymore.  Bagshot gave me that book for a reason.  I need to ask her why.  I have so many questions for her about Dumbledore and Grindelwald."

"I'm coming with you," Hermione stated firmly.

"Hermione," Harry protested. "I can't ask you to do that."

"Good thing neither of us was asking." She pushed a lock of bushy hair away from her face.  "I won't let you go alone. We have to assume he has someone watching the village. You need to stay safe if we have any hope of defeating You-Know-Who."
Harry sighed, "Fine. You can come, Hermione."

"What about Luna," George asked looking at the younger girl. Her normally wide, dreamy eyes had large grey bags under them. Her hair was dirty.

"Harry Potter, I am coming with you," the blonde began.

"No," Harry said holding up his hand to stop her speaking further. "I've said this once already. I can't have you with us on this mission. You're too young. You still have the Trace on you. And," Harry took a deep breath before speaking again, "I'd worry about you too much."

Fred snickered, "Always the romantic, Potter. So where is she going? I doubt it would be safe to take her home. According to Potterwatch, he's rattling the bars of the Ministry pretty hard. If his recently kidnapped daughter magically returns home it won't be good for anyone."

"She'll come home with us, of course," George answered before anyone else had a chance to make a suggestion.

There were no protests to the suggestion. After Fred Apparated away to locate his family members. Hermione woke Ollivander for another round of potions. He would need to be medicated during travel. Harry anxiously by waiting for news. Even Luna calm, steady presence did little to relieve his frayed nerves.
Fred was gone less than an hour before he returned having located family members in both locations.  Mrs. Weasley had resisted going into hiding until Luna was captured. She was staying with Auntie Muriel along with Percy. Ron and Ginny had opted to stay with Bill and Fleur.

"Anyway we can get Mum to Bill and Fleur's instead," George asked half-jokingly.

Fred shook his head, "I already asked."

"Stop fooling about," Hermione chided. "He needs care as soon as we can get it to him."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you were heading to Muriel's," George mumbled under his breath.

Hermione had given the twins a bag containing all of their necessities to be away four to five days. They planned to meet back at the Number Twelve on New Year’s day if all went according to plan, with the information about Grindelwald and why Voldemort would want to find him in hand. Fred Apparated away with the frail form of Mr. Ollivander beside him. George took Luna a few minutes later. Harry fought back the feeling he wouldn't see her again.

"Harry, are you okay," Hermione asked.

He waved a hand away at her, "I'm fine. Let's go."

~~~*****~~~*****~~~

Kreacher wasn't happy to hear that everyone was leaving. He was comforted slightly when Hermione said they were only supposed to be away for a week or so. Still, Harry gave him the order if they were not back at that point he was to return to Hogwarts to work in the kitchens with the strict order to not discuss anything he heard the residents talking about.
"We'll see you in a few days Kreacher," Harry said as he took Hermione's hand as they Apparated away from Grimmauld Place.

The night's air was bracing. Harry breathed deeply as he adjusted being back on his feet in this new location. It was nice to be out in fresh air once more. Harry hadn't realized how much he missed in his time locked up in the London house. Hermione squeezed his hand once before letting it drop back to her side.

The streets of Godric's Hollow were nearly abandoned from what they could see from where they stood. The large windows of the shops were decorated for the Christmas season. Old fashioned wreaths hung on the doors.  Like in so many small villages, in the center of the village stood an old war marker.
Harry jerked his head in the direction of the marker. The two began to walk slowly through the snow. As they approached the marker, it was no longer the monolith for the war dead, but a stone statue of a woman, sitting beside a man and their infant son.

"It's my parents," Harry gasped. He stared up into their stone faces. James with his untidy hair and round glasses, just like Harry. Lily beside him, her pretty, kind face. Both were looking at their stone son, the happy baby Harry. The baby's forehead free of the scar, before the touch of Lord Voldemort.

"Oh Harry," Hermione breathed.

The street was momentarily filled with light as a door opened behind them. The sounds of a carol-filled their ears.

"I think it might be Christmas Eve," Hermione whispered to Harry.

"You might be right," he agreed. "My parents will be in there." He pointed to the cemetery beside the tiny church. "Don't you think?"

Hermione nodded as they made their way carefully across the slippery trodden on snow. Harry pushed open the small kissing gate. He had no idea where his parents might lay. His eyes jumped from stone in search of his parents' names. Abbott, maybe a distant relative of Hannah's, he thought to himself.  Hermione was a little way behind him doing the same.

"Harry, come look," Hermione stood by a very old and worn gravestone. At the top was the mark, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, if Luna was to be believed. Harry leaned down to study the mark.

"She was telling the truth," Harry whispered to Hermione.

"I didn't think she was lying. That doesn't mean this wizard had an unbeatable wand, Harry." Hermione cautioned.

Harry said nothing, resuming his search for his parents' graves.  He stopped at another grave, as eyes fell on the name Dumbledore. Kendra was at the top, followed by her birth and death dates. Just below that was, "and her daughter Ariana." Below the names was an inscription, "Where your treasure is, there will be your heart be also."

"What's that supposed to mean," Harry muttered to himself.

This was the first proof he had seen that not everything Rita Skeeter had written in her biography was a total lie. Dumbledore had had a younger sister, one he had never mentioned. The Dumbledores must have lived and died here at some point, just as the book said. Why had the headmaster never told Harry they shared the connection to this small village?

"Harry," Hermione called his attention once more. "They're here."

Harry weaved his way through the two rows of tombstones between him and Hermione. There they were, James and Lily Potter with their birthday and the date of their death. Under was the carved inscription

Harry read it out loud, "‘The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death’. Isn't that what the Death Eaters think?"

"It's not like that," Hermione reassured. "It's about living on. Living after death." She waved her wand making a wreath of Christmas roses.

Harry placed it with great care on the stone. He cried as he ran a gloved hand over the names of his parents. Living beyond death? They were gone, the only thing left now were bones, maybe only dust.  Hermione let him cry as the snow began to fall once more.  The tears formed frozen rivers down Harry's cheeks as they fell. When at his tears were spent he stood, rubbing the frigid trails away with the back of his hand.

"We should try and find Bagshot," Hermione urged.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his voice still tight from his crying.

"How are we going to find her," Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. They walked side-by-side back out of the cemetery. "Let's go this way," Harry said motioning to the direction opposite the way they had come.
Hermione followed his lead. She looked around them.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked her.

"It feels like someone is watching us," she said as she looked around the street once again. "Didn't you feel it back at the cemetery?"

Harry shook his head.

"I think somebody is following us," Hermione whispered nervously.  "Maybe we should put the Invisibility Cloak on."

"You think we need to," Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione urged.

"Don't you think if Death Eaters were here we would be dead already," Harry asked.

"Harry, why are you being so foolish," Hermione demanded as she pulled the cloak out of her bag. "You are the one You-Know-Who wants. He probably has somebody watching the village because he knows you'll come at some point."

Harry conceded to her argument and did not resist as she threw the shimmering silver fabric over them. Their pace slowed as they shuffled along to make sure their feet didn't show. They walked past small cottages with snow-covered gardens and smoking chimneys.

"Do we have any idea which might be Bagshot's?" Hermione asked.

Harry didn't answer her question, he was too distracted by the house that had just come into view. The lawn was overgrown, what was left of the house covered in an overwhelming growth of ivy. The top right corner of the house was missing.

"This was our house," Harry said mostly to himself. He took hold of the metal fence in front of him, desperate to have contact with some piece of this part of his life. A large sign appeared in front of them saying the house was preserved in the state it was on the night James and Lily died as a memorial to the violence that ripped the Potter family apart. The sign was covered in graffiti. Some had signed their names, others wrote their support for Harry.

"That must have been my nursery," Harry pointed to the missing corner of the house. "It's a wonder Hagrid was able to get me out of there."

There was a sound of slow footsteps coming down the street. The teens turned in the direction of the sound. It was the hunched form of an elderly woman.

"Ms. Bagshot," Harry said removing the cloak, he identified as she passed under a street lamp.

"Harry," Hermione scolded.

"Ms. Bagshot," Harry repeated.

The old woman stopped and looked at Harry as if trying to place him.

"Ms. Bagshot," Harry approached the woman cautiously, "I wonder if I could ask you about a few things."

The old woman nodded. She lumbered down the snow slick street.

Harry made to follow her. Hermione grabbed him by the wrist.

"What are you thinking," Hermione hissed.

"We came here to find her," Harry said watching as the woman continued to walk away.

"I don't have a good feeling about this," Hermione advised.

"Don't you want to know about what Dumbledore was doing with Grindelwald?" Harry asked."What about the Peverell brothers? She is supposed to be the greatest magical historian of our time. If anyone knows if they were the three brothers of the story and created the Hallows, she would."

Hermione paused, considering Harry's argument.

Seeing her uncertainty in desperation, Harry added, “Who else would have Dumbledore left the sword with?”

Hermione let go of his wrist. The old woman had stopped under the next street lamp. She must have sensed that they weren't following her.  Harry walked as quickly as he could without slipping on the ice to catch up with Ms. Bagshot. Hermione followed behind more slowly.

"Ms. Bagshot at the wedding you gave me that book, you said James was always Dumbledore's favorite son. What did you mean?" Harry asked as he walked by the old woman. She was unsteady on the slippery street. She didn't answer his question.
The two walked side-by-side up the little street, Harry asking questions and receiving no responses. The woman turned down the garden path of one of the last houses on the street. The garden here was not the perfectly manicured ones of the others on the street. It more closely resembled that of the Potter's home, what wasn't buried under the snow was wild and overgrown.

The old woman fumbled with an old-fashioned key, versus opening the door with her wand. Harry took the bit of metal and turned it in the lock for her. The house was dark and smelled bad, like something rotten and forgotten about. There were discarded dishes and old food sitting on plates everywhere. Books were piled in precarious stacks on many of the surfaces.
The old woman was fumbling with matches to light the candles around the room now. Harry took them and struck the first with ease. Hermione was studying the pictures on the mantel. A number of empty frames sat next to the others.

"Did Dumbledore leave something with you? A sword maybe? It's really important, Ms. Bagshot. We need your help."

The woman motioned for Harry to follow her. They stepped into the next room. Something silver caught the light under the woman's long sleeve. Harry frown. It was a hand, a silver hand.
"You're not Bagshot," Harry realized too late. Pettigrew had placed his fingers on his arm, grasping his Dark Mark, summoning the Dark Lord.

Harry drew his wand, "How could you? I saved your life once. I stopped Sirius and Remus from killing you in the Shrieking Shack. Summoning your master, you know he means to kill me."

"We're all already dead, don't you know that Harry Potter?" Pettigrew pulling his own wand. The rat-faced wizard cast a Stunning Spell at Harry.

Harry blocked the spell, causing to ricochet and blast a stack of books apart. Harry shot his own Stunning Spell at Pettigrew. He ducked and it missed by inches, blowing a large hole in the wall.
"What Earth is going on here," Hermione demanded running into the room.

One of Pettigrew's spells grazed her face, cutting it. Hermione shot a spell at the little wizard, but he was too fast. Harry tried to hit him while he was distracted. The Death Eater screamed in pain.

No, it was Harry who was screaming. His head felt like it was on fire. He could feel Voldemort's emotions, his exuberance. He would finally be rid of Harry Potter. Harry felt his wand fall from his hand. Hermione was still fighting Pettigrew. She ducked and saw Harry collapsed on the floor.

"He's coming," Harry warned.

Hermione grabbed his arm. She stood to turn.

"No," Pettigrew screamed.

~~~*****~~~*****~~~

Harry was Voldemort. He was walking through the village of Godric's Hollow some sixteen years previous. It was Halloween the streets were filled with children dressed in costumes. He ignored them. He was so close he could taste it. The death of the boy would be the last obstacle in his quest.

Inside the house, he could see James Potter playing with the infant on the living room floor. They had no idea he was coming, assuming they were safe inside their home, having no idea they had been betrayed by one they called their own.  The man's wand lay at least six feet away from him, the fool.

The door easily burst open. "Take Harry and go," James yelled to his wife. "I'll hold him off."

Hold him off with no wand? Who was he joking?

The woman grabbed the child, running upstairs. The room was filled with a green light as James fell dead, a few feet from where he had played with his child moments before. He climbed the stairs of the small house. The child's cries could be heard from down the hall. How he hated the sound of crying. He never liked to hear the little ones at the orphanage crying.

The woman had tried to build a barricade, blocking him from the room. A flick of his wand and it was gone. "Stand aside," he ordered. "Stand aside silly girl."

"Please not Harry," the woman begged. "Please, not Harry. Take me instead. Not Harry."

If she would not move she would die. He raised his wand and she fell dead. The boy cried harder. There was only one left. He raised his wand once more. There was a flash of green and he was no more. He was spirit held here by the connections he had created. He fled, fled to the forests of Albania. He would wait there until a young man happened upon him and agreed to share his body.

~~~*****~~~*****~~~

Harry woke with a groan. He felt sick to his stomach. He looked up to see the sagging roof of the tent they had borrowed for the Quidditch World Cup. He rolled over, reaching a hand out trying to find his glasses.

"Hermione," Harry called softly.

"You're awake," Hermione announced. A mixture of relief and crossing her features.

Harry sat up. "What happened?"

Hermione handed him a cup of water as she cast what Harry recognized to be a basic diagnostic charm. Harry sipped the water gratefully.  

"You’ve been…:” she cast around looking for the right word, Hermione finally settled on, “ill.”  Harry noticed she hadn’t answered his question.  It wasn’t like her not to answer a question directly.

“Hermione, please tell me how we got here...wherever here is,” Harry pleaded.

Hermione nodded, “Alright, I don’t know how much you remember.”

“We were in Godric’s Hollow, we went to talk to Bathilda Bagshot but she wasn’t who we,” seeing her expression he corrected, “I thought she was.”

“Bagshot turned out to be Pettigrew,” Hermione confirmed.  “He must have used Polyjuice to disguise himself.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry agreed.  “I saw the silver hand and then he was grabbing his Dark Mark and bringing You-Know-Who.  How did we get away?”

“I grabbed hold of you and was going to Apparate us back to Number Twelve but I felt Pettigrew grab hold of my ankle. We couldn’t stay there. It wouldn’t be safe.” Hermione explained.  “I immediately Apparated again.  I brought us here.”

“What about Pettigrew?  The twins were supposed to be meeting us back there in a few days,” Harry asked anxiously.  

“Pettigrew isn’t an issue,” Hermione reassured.

“Not an issue,” Harry repeated, his voice thick with disbelief.  “If he’s gotten into the house, I think that’s a problem.”

“He was there for a moment but he won’t be back,” Hermione insisted.

“Why’s that,” Harry asked sarcastically.  

“He’s dead,” Hermione informed him.  “He splinched himself beyond repair.”

Harry grimaced. He wasn’t upset to hear that the man that betrayed his parents was dead.  To die in such a way was terrifying.  If he failed to focus properly when Apparating, the same thing could happen to him.  It was such a pitiful way to die.  It was fitting for the likes of Pettigrew.

Hermione was pulling things out of her bag once again.  
“How long have I been asleep,” Harry asked taking another sip of his water.  

“Three days,” Hermione said removing the potion kit Remus had given Harry for his birthday.  She pulled out several vials out and handed them to Harry.  He slugged them back with a grimace.  

“The twins won’t know we’re not at Number Twelve until at least tomorrow,” Harry muttered to himself.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed.

“How are we supposed to let them know where we are?” Harry asked laying back down on his cot.

“I don’t know,” Hermione said her voice was thick with emotion.  
“This wasn’t at all how this was supposed to go.”  She wiped angrily at the tears that were now streaming down her face.  “I don’t think we should try using the coins.  We don’t know if the Death Eaters found one on Luna when they took her off the train.”

“What about a Patronus,” Harry suggested.

“No,” Hermione said shaking her head back and forth. “Yours is too well know by far.”

“Your’s isn’t,” Harry argued.  

“But it can still be followed,” Hermione countered.  “I don’t know what to do now.”

Harry sighed.  There were alone Merlin knew where in a sad tent that smelled of cabbage and cat pee.  A cold shiver ran down Harry’s spine.  

“The same thing we’ve been doing,” Harry said, throwing an arm over his eyes, “try and find the sword and the other Horcruxes.  There’s still at least one more out there,” he gestured to the world around them with his other arm, “somewhere. And we have to find it.  There just might be only the two of us doing it.”

Hermione went onto explain how she had cast a number of privacy spells around the area they were camping.  She wasn’t sure if it would hold off anyone determined to locate them but it should at least (hopefully) prevent anyone from accidentally stumbling upon them.

“We should take turns keeping watch, just in case,” Harry suggested.

“That’s a good idea,” agreed Hermione.

“You’ve been up for ages.  I can take the first shift,” Harry didn’t so much as offer as insisted.  “Go have a lie-down.”

Hermione gave him a weak smile and walked back into the tent.

“Hermione,” Harry called back inside.

“Yes Harry,” she replied coming to stand at the mouth of the tent.  

“Where’s my wand?” Harry inquired.

Hermione wrung her hands nervously as if she was expecting this question.

“Hermione,” Harry asked again,

The girl removed a broken bit of wood from the depths of her bag.  She handed it to Harry He took the broken bit of holly and phoenix feather carefully in hand.

“What happened,” Harry asked as he surveyed the damage.

“I don’t know exactly,” Hermione was speaking to her shoes.  “I think it must have been during the fight with Pettigrew.  It could have been stepped on.  It was so confusing.”

Harry held up the wand to her, “You can fix it can’t you?”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Hermione said softly.

“You can try,” Harry insisted.

With a sigh, she drew her own wand and said, “Reparo.”  The damaged wand came back together.  A clear seam could be seen where it had broken.

“Lumos,” Harry said waving the mended wand.  The small amount of magic was too much for Harry’s broken wand.  It split in half once more.

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione said watching the defeated Harry.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry muttered. “It was an accident.  Do we still have Lestrange’s wand?”

Hermione nodded and removed it from her bag.  Harry took it testing the feel of it.  It was nothing like his trusty holly and phoenix feather.  It felt as if someone else’s hand was attached to the end of his arm.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said once again.

Harry shook his head, “Go to bed, Hermione.  I’ll keep watch.”

The grounds around the tent were wooded.  A small stream trickled by, clogged with ice. He guessed they were in a forest of some sort, which one he would have to ask his traveling companion.

Harry kept his ears open for any sound of unwanted guests.  There was nothing.  A whisper of a breeze through the trees, a fox running across the snow.  Harry practiced basic spells with the stolen wand.  No matter what he tried, it felt like none of them got as good of results as good as his own wand.

Hermione woke near dawn.  She came outside pulling her fluffy bathrobe tighter around her thin frame.  “How is it,” she asked, pointing at the wand.

“It will have to do,” Harry answered.

“I’m…” Hermione began.

“Don’t bother apologizing, Hermione.  What’s happened is in the past.  I’ll just have to use this until I can get my old one fixed.”

“Harry,” Hermione cautioned.

Harry shook his head.  “If this Elder Wand is supposed to be so powerful it should be about to fix mine.”

“I don’t think it works like that, Harry,” Hermione said sounding like a parent talking to a toddler that was set on getting the impossible.

“Do you think we should move from here?” Harry asked changing the subject.  If he wasn’t mistaken, Hermione almost sighed in relief at this.

“I don’t think we have to just yet.  We’re well sheltered here.  I didn’t hear anyone come close to the wards the entire time you were ill,” she explained.

Harry shrugged, “Do you want me to make some coffee?”

“That would be wonderful,” Hermione said with a smile.

Harry stood, dusting the dirt and leaves off his bottom. He busied himself with making coffee and breakfast.  Hermione’s beaded bag lay abandoned on the rickety table in the kitchen area.  Harry picked it up and opened it.  He had never really asked the girl what she had bothered to bring with them.   He shoved his hand in pulling things out at random, a decoy detonator, a toothbrush (not Harry’s), a ruins dictionary.  His hand was clasped around something square when Hermione stepped back into the tent.

“What are you doing,” Hermione demanded, surveying the mess.

Caught he pulled out his hand, still holding the last object, the box Luna gave him for his birthday.  Harry shrugged, “I was just curious what you have in there.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “You could have asked.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, “What do you have in there?”

“Everything I thought we could possibly need,” she replied.  Wordlessly she began to put the items back into the bag until only the box remained out.  “I’ll take that,” she said holding out her hand for it.

“No,” Harry said holding it tighter.  “I think I’ll keep it for now.”

“It’s holding two Horcruxes, Harry.  I think it would be better safely tucked away in the bag.” Hermione said motioning for it once more.

“It will be fine, Hermione,” the boy reassured her.  “It won’t let anything dark out of the box.”

“I don’t think that’s what the inscription meant,” Hermione argued.

Harry sighed, “Would you be happier if I gave you one of them back?”

Hermione frowned, from her expression he could clearly tell she wouldn’t be happy until both were back buried deep inside the bag until they could be destroyed.

“It will be fine,” Harry said once again. “I just want to study them. Maybe I’ll have an idea how to destroy them.”

“We know how to destroy them, we need the sword or a basilisk fang,” Hermione growled.

“What if I said I just wanted to use it as target practice?” Harry asked.

“It won’t do anything to help,” Hermione said dryly.

“But it might make me feel better,” Harry said with a small smile.
She made a noise of disapproval but said nothing.  Harry knew not to push his luck and pulled out the necklace.

“I don’t like this,” Hermione stated staring at the golden locket.  “You can feel it, can’t you? There’s something evil and alive in there.”

“I know,” Harry agreed.  He could almost imagine he felt the flutter of a tiny heartbeat from inside. He didn’t comment that it was stronger than the force coming off the cup.  He wondered if the difference had to do with the order of their creation.  If the necklace was created first so it held a larger part of Voldemort’s shrinking soul.  He shoved the piece of jewelry into his pocket, the last part of the chain sticking out the top, like an old-fashioned watch fob.

Harry poured Hermione a cup of coffee as she put things back in her bag and then removed the copy of Beedle the Bard.   

“Where are we?” Harry asked as he took a seat across from the girl.  “I know we’re in a forest, I just wasn’t sure which one.”

“The Forest of Dean,” Hermione replied instantly.  “I came here with my parents on a camping trip when I was eight or nine… not that they’ll remember it.”

“Hermione,” Harry said.

She shook her head, “I’m okay.  I just miss them.”

Harry nodded. He wouldn’t say he knew how she felt. His parents had died when he was young.  Sirius was only in his life for a short time.  The comparisons weren’t fair.

They stayed on the side of that stream for another two days.  From there they moved on to a loch in the Scottish highlands for another few days, to an abandoned village in the south of England.  Something kept drawing them back to that bit of stream bank.  They never saw anyone near there.  Both knew it wasn’t a good idea to keep coming back, but there was something about it that made them want to return.

Hermione spent much of her time hidden away in one book or another.  She must have read them all at least a dozen times each.  Some of them were probably closer to fifty or sixty times.

“The twins must have gone back to Grimmauld Place by now.  Did you leave them any sort of clue where we would be?” Harry asked over lunch.

“I Apparated us directly here.  I was more worried about Pettigrew,” she answered truthfully.

“If anyone could find us, it’s Fred and George,” Harry agreed.

~~~*****~~~~*****~~~

“I’ll take the first watch,” Harry said later that evening.

“Are you sure? You’ve taken that shift the last few days.  I don’t mind,” Hermione offered.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.  He took up his customary place at the mouth of the tent.  He practiced a few more spells with the borrowed wand.  Hermione believed with more practice he would feel more comfortable with the captured wand, therefore have better results.

Frustrated that even a simple Enlarging Charm wasn’t working to make a spider in its web grow Harry set the wand a side.  He pulled the locket out of his pocket.  It was cold.  It had absorbed any of his body heat, even after being in there the last several weeks.

He stared at the bit of gold studying the miniature snake on the front of it.  In the silence, he could almost hear the heartbeat.  He looked up at the snapping sound of a twig.  In front of him was a brilliant silver doe.   His heart sped up realizing who must have cast it. Was the man here?  How could he know where they were?

The doe began to walk silently away into the woods.  Was she leading him to the professor?  Why hadn’t the man shown himself if he knew where they were?

Harry put the necklace around his neck so it would not get lost.  He was sure the man would have a valid explanation for everything he did.  He sped up hoping to catch up to the Patronus.  If he did, maybe he could talk with Professor Snape.  The teacher had been close with Dumbledore.  Maybe he would have an idea where the sword was, or he could bring them a fang from the basilisk?   

The silver doe stopped in a snow-covered clearing.  Harry looked around to see if anyone was there.  For the first time he left the tent he second-guessed his decision to not tell Hermione about seeing the doe or asking her to come with him. What if it wasn't Snape's Patronus?  As he turned to go back something glittered in the moonlight.

Harry stopped to take a better look.  The clearing was not a clearing, but a small lake.  There was something a few feet down.  

“Lumos,” Harry muttered, shining the faint light at the surface of the ice.  There was a bit of silver extended out too.  It was the Sword of Gryffindor!

The sword could present itself to any worthy Gryffindor at the moment.  Is that why it was at the bottom of a lake?  Did Professor Snape need to make sure he was worthy?

Harry pulled off his coat, multiple sweaters, and trousers.  His socks were the last thing to come off as he picked up the borrowed wand and said, “Defendo.” The ice creaked like a gunshot into the night.

Harry stepped into the freezing water.  Pain shot through his feet and up his chest as he walked into the water.  He kept going, he had to get that sword.  If that’s what Professor Snape thought he had to do to get it, he would do it.

Harry submerged himself to swim over the short distance to the sword.  He could feel the heartbeat inside the necklace speed up too. It was panicking. The chain began to tighten.  He couldn’t breathe.  It was dragging him under.  Things were starting to go black....

“What the ruddy Hell were you thinking?” Demanded a voice above Harry’s head.

Harry opened his eyes, he was seeing double.

“I don’t think he was thinking.  Anyone with a knut’s worth of knowledge would know better than to go diving into a lake with a bit of You-Know-Whose soul hanging around their necks.”
Harry rubbed at his eyes.  Both figures were still standing in front of him.  “Fred,” he said addressing the one on the right.

“I’m George,” the twin complained, “Honestly, you can’t tell us apart after six years.”

“Sorry George,” Harry said sitting up.

“Only joking, I am Fred,” Fred said with a grin.  It was then Harry noticed the boy was leaning on the sword almost as if it was a walking stick.

“You got it,” Harry exclaimed, a combination of relieved and excited.

“Of course, I did,” Fred said with a cocky puffing of his chest.  “I left the hero work to him.  He needs some glory.  Can’t have him playing second fiddle all my life. Especially since I got all the looks.”

Harry and George both rolled their eyes.  The dark haired boy touched his neck realizing for the first time the locket was no longer around it.

“Where’s…” Harry began to ask.

“I had to cut this off your neck, mate.  It wouldn’t just come off,” George informed him holding up the offending item.

Harry nodded reaching out for it. George held it further away.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.  Mum would tell you to put some clothes or you’ll catch your death,” George pointed at the discarded pile of clothes.  He cast a quick drying and warming charm for good measure over Harry.

“Thanks,” Harry’s response came through a thick layer of wool as he pulled his second sweater over his head.

“No problem,” George said looking at the bit of gold in his head.

“Do you want to tell us what you were thinking?” Fred asked as the dark-haired boy pulled on his jacket.

“I was going for the sword,” Harry frowned. “How did you find me?”

“We followed your doe, obviously,” Fred said rolling his eyes at the idiotic question.

“It wasn’t my doe.  How did you end up here? Hermione didn’t tell anyone we were coming here.” Harry questioned.
Fred pulled out the silver cigarette lighter.  

“So,” Harry demanded.

“It does more than suck up light,” Fred said shoving it in his pocket.  “It’s sort of hard to explain.”

“Yeah,” George agreed.  “Nobody wants to hear how a magical ball of light told us where to Apparate after we heard our names coming from that bloody thing.”

Harry turned to look back at Fred.  “Is that what happened?”

Fred shrugged, “Something like that.”  he moved the sword from his side to his shoulder.   “I think we should be getting back to where you came from.  I don’t want to run into whoever cast that Patronus.”

“I want to see them,” Harry argued.  He looked over where he suspected the caster had stood.

“You know who it was,” George asked, mildly surprised.  “Who was it?”

“You won’t like it,” Harry deflected.

“Who was it,” the twins demanded together.

“As long as you don’t say it was the bloody dungeon bat, I won’t bloody care who it was,” Fred grumbled.

“From the look on his face, I think you hit the nail on the head,” George said watching Harry’s somewhat guilty expression.

“How did the git know where you were?” Fred requested.

“No idea,” Harry admitted, “but he left us the sword. That’s all that matters isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” agreed Fred. “How can we know this is the real one?”

“Only one way to find out,” Harry answered trying to grab the locket from George once again.

“No,” George said stepping to the side causing Harry to almost fall on his face as he staggered forward.

“You need me to open it,” Harry explained.

“Fine,” George agreed. “You stand there and open it me and Fred will show Voldy-Poo we mean business.”

“I need to be closer,” Harry argued.

Fred motioned for him to come a bit closer.  Harry stepped four or five feet nearer to the other two wizards.

“That looks good to me,” Fred announced.

“You’ll want to set it down,” Harry advised.

“Of course we will,” Fred agreed. With a jerk of his head, George placed the locket on the ground atop a large stone.

“If this is anything like the last one I dealt with we need to be careful.  The thing inside the diary nearly killed both me and Ginny,” Harry cautioned.

Fred and George nodded together.  Harry could just make out the tiny snake on the front in the moonlight.  He studied it imagining it as a real creature curled up asleep on a golden pillow.

“Open,” Harry hissed.  It must have been Parseltongue as the halves split apart to reveal a glowing red-eye.

Fred stepped forward, sword raised high.  He stabbed the left side of the necklace.  A scream as if someone was murdered came from its depths. A force shoved back Fred knocking him into a tree ten feet away.  The sword fell out of his hand.

“Fred,” George called running to his brother’s side.  Harry joined him at the injured redhead’s side.

“Finish it,” Fred gasped, his breath returning to him.

George picked up the sword a look of determination Harry had never seen on the boy’s face before.  Harry and Fred watched as the other twin approached. Out of the necklace emerged a giant shadow of a basilisk. George was not deterred.  It flexed its jaws as if prepared to eat him.  The snake exploded in a puff of green smoke knocking George off his feet. The shock wave had a huge clump of snow toppling onto Harry and Fred’s heads.

“Merlin, that’s cold,” complained Fred.

George picked up the smoldering bit of metal.  “No worse than stopping Percy from singing in the shower.”

All three laughed as the two helped Fred to his feet.  Harry lit the wand that used to belong to Rodolphus Lestrange leaving the twins to explore where Professor Snape had cast the doe Patronus.   There was only one bit of evidence the man had ever been there, a letter tacked to the largest of the trees in the group.  It was charmed to recognize Harry’s magical signature because he touched it the ink spread out like oil over water. The note was short and in the familiar spidery penmanship of the Potions Master.

Daring does not mean you have to be a mindless dolt, Potter.  You are fortunate your friends were there to save you.  If left to me, you might not be so lucky, prophecy be damned.  Do not make it so Lily’s sacrifice was made in vain.  
Be safe (as one can be in these times),
SS

 

The three walked slowly back to the tent so not to overtax the still sore Fred.

“Harry, where have you been?” Hermione demanded her hands on her hips.

“She looks like Mum when she does that,” observed Fred.

“Nah,” his twin disagreed, “She’s missing the spoon in her hand.”

“That can be fixed George Weasley,” Hermione snapped.

“I’d be careful how you say that, Hermione. People might take it the wrong way.” Fred said with a grin.

Hermione snorted.

“Is that the only greeting the returning heroes received,”  Fred demanded with a smirk.

“Heroes,” Hermione repeated.  “A bit full of yourself don’t you think?”

“Not really,” George said holding up the destroyed Horcrux.  

“What do you think?”

Hermione stood there mouth moving, no words coming out.  

“What you don’t like it? I thought jewelry was traditional for Valentine’s.”  George teased.

“You,” Hermione finally managed, “How?”

Fred pulled the sword from his belt. “I think the word you are looking for is, hero.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “How did you find us? What do you mean Valentine? It’s a bit early for that don’t you think?”

“How about a cup of tea and we’ll tell you everything,” George suggested.

Hermione moved out of the way so the three boys could enter first.  Harry went straight to the stove waiting for the water to boil. Fred and George explained everything that happened to them since they said goodbye at Number Twelve to seeing the doe, rescuing Harry and destroying the Horcrux. Hermione waited for them to finish their story before she caught them up on what happened to herself and Harry in the last few weeks.

“Bill and Fleur want you both to know we’re all welcome to come join them…” there was an odd pause like choking on a bite of an apple, “at any point. They’ll be happy to have us.” George informed them.

“You mean, you don’t want to spend the next few months living in the woods, on the run like an escaped convict,” his brother asked.

“No,” George said seriously. “Mostly because Harry talks in his sleep. I can’t stand to hear him hissing much longer.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled.

“It’s not your fault Harry, there’s no need to apologize,” Hermione glared at the other boy.

George shrugged.

“Who’s been reading this load of tosh,” Fred asked flopping open the copy of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore to the marked page.

“Harry,” Hermione answered, her disapproval clear.

“You know she’s completely full of it, mate,” Fred asked.
Harry shook his head, “Not at much as I’d like her to be.  Dumbledore and Grindelwald really were friends.  We saw pictures of them together at Bagshot’s house.”

“That’s one thing, Harry,” Hermione said softly.

“One thing,” Harry repeated.  “That would be like me inviting You-Know-Who over for tea with the Dursleys, Hermione.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think, Harry?” Hermione asked softly.

Fred’s brow was furrowed as he studied the page of the book his brother’s expression matched it at the look of puzzlement.

“What’s wrong, Freddie,” George joked.

Fred pointed at one of the pictures on the page. There was a girl of maybe four or five in a soft yellow dress.  Her long blonde hair blowing in a soft breeze.  She gave the mischievous smile as she began to spin.  She twirled so she skirts blossomed as if she were an upside down flower.

All four were watching the girl now, she twirled on the spot maybe a half-dozen more times more before turning to walk away from the reader.  She froze in the middle distance before could disappear completely.  The picture repeated the cycle as if it was a film on a loop.  

“There,” Fred said jabbing the photo, “that’s the same picture Luna got from Dumbledore.”

“It Luna still at your Auntie Muriel’s?” Harry asked.

George shook his head in the negative. “Auntie Muriel didn’t like all her comments about the ratspurts or whatever in the house,” the younger of the twins explained.  “She went to stay with Bill and Fleur just after New Year’s.”

“We can go to Bill and Fleur's in the morning,” Harry decided.  

“It’ll be nice to be in a real house again.”

“Harry,” Hermione warned.

“That’s brilliant, mate,” Fred said over her.

“Aren’t we going to put them in danger?” Hermione questioned.

“You two have been missing for weeks.  I don’t think they will mind us coming to stay for awhile. It will set Mum’s mind to rest at least.  The Death Eaters can’t get to Bill and Fleur’s or even Auntie Muriel’s.  They’re both under the Fidelius Charm.”

“Who’s the Secret Keeper?”  Hermione asked curiously.

“Mum,” answered  Fred.  “She would rather die than give up the whereabouts any of her kids, believe me.”

“I know,” Hermione agreed.  “I only asked because she will have to be the one who gives us the address of the locations.”

George smiled. “We’re ahead of you for once.” He held up two small strips of parchment one from each pocket.  “She sent us with these. They have the address to both houses.”

“Ohhhh….That was really dangerous,” Hermione gasped. Then looked down at the parchment.

“It’s blank,” Harry complained.

“Oops… must have mixed them up,” George said taking them back and crossing his arms so the one that had been in Hermione’s hand now lay in Harry’s. There, now in somewhat, messy, loopy scrawl were two addresses, Shell Cottage, and Barchester Manor.

“Bill and Fleur's is Shell Cottage.  You’ve met Auntie Muriel.  Can you imagine that old hag living in any place called a cottage?” Fred explained.

Harry snorted in amusement.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your aunt.” Hermione chastised, though it was lighter than her normal rebuking tone.  

The old woman hadn’t approved of the girl for whatever reason, remarking about her skinny ankles. For the life of him.  Harry couldn’t understand why the comment bothered Hermione so much.

“We don’t have a choice about going now.  We need to find out what's so special about that painting. Why would Dumbledore give it to her?”

“And why Luna’s doesn’t move,” added George.

Fred took the first shift watching the tent in case some unexpected guest were to make their appearance.  The nice thing about having four people once again meant they could do shorter shifts and rest a bit easier at night.

They packed the tent at first light.  Harry want to do nothing more than set the bit of saggy canvas and poles alight but Hermione insisted they might need it again in the near future.  Harry wasn’t the only one who wasn’t pleased to hear that argument, though none fought her on it.  They all knew she was right.

The warm sea breeze that hit as they arrived at the edge of the wards to Shell Cottage carried with it the promise of spring and new beginnings.  All they need to do, find the last Horcrux and bring an end to the current unpleasant chapter.