CXVII. LOVEGOOD'S PAD
21:79 ─❁────────── 31:80
◁ Ⅱ ▷
❝There is a reason for all this frustration
I believe that we're on the right path❞
༻───────────────༺
LUCIA DIDN'T EXPECTED HERMIONE'S ANGER to abate overnight and was therefore unsurprised that she communicated mainly by dirty looks and pointed silence that were quite deafening the next morning.
Ron responded by maintaining an unnaturally somber demeanor in her presence as an outward sign of continuing remorse. In fact, when all four of them were together Lucia felt that she and Harry were the only non-mourner at a poorly attended funeral. During those few moments he spent with Harry (collecting water and searching the undergrowth for mushrooms) from what she was told, however, Ron became shamelessly cheery.
"Someone helped us," he kept saying. "Someone sent that doe. Someone's on our side. One Horcrux down, mate!"
Bolstered by the destruction of the locket, they set to debating the possible locations of the other Horcruxes, and even though they had discussed the matter so often before, Lucia caught up with Harry's latest optimism in personality, certain that more breakthroughs would succeed the first. Hermione's sulkiness could not mar his buoyant spirits: The sudden upswing in their fortunes, the appearance of the mysterious doe, the recovery of Gryffindor's sword, and above all, Ron's return, made the pair so happy that it was quite difficult to maintain a straight face.
Late in the afternoon Harry and Ron escaped Hermione's baleful presence again when Lucia proclaimed that she would be out scouring for blackberries, supposedly 'helping' her but instead continued their ongoing exchange of news. While she were looking around for berries, Harry had finally managed to tell Ron the whole story of their various wanderings, right up to the full story of what had happened at Godric's Hollow; Ron was now filling them in on everything he had discovered about the wider Wizarding world during his weeks away.
"...and how did you find out about the Taboo?" he asked the two after explaining the many desperate attempts of muggle-borns to evade the Ministry.
"The what?"
"You've stopped saying You-Know-Who's name!"
"Oh, yeah. Well, it's just a bad habit we've slipped into," said Harry. "But I haven't got a problem calling him V —"
"SHUSH!" Lucia yelped, dropping the berries she was holding and Ron roared: "NO!"
Harry jumped into the hedge, and Hermione (nose buried in a book at the tent entrance) scowled over at them. Ron looked at Lucia, surprised.
"You know?"
"You also seem to know..." Lucia then cocked a brow, "Also, why do you think I'm on the run in the first place?!"
"I thought because you pissed off the Carrows?" he said.
"Oh no, I did pissed off the Carrows a couple of times, but that usually earns me a torture —"
"TORTURE?!"
"But it's nothing... though, I do feel like one of them has a fetish in pulling my hair back..." Lucia said thoughtfully.
"FETISH?!"
"Oh, it's nothing," Lucia brushed it off.
"Um, hello?" Lucia and Ron looked around, before they remembered Harry falling into the hedge.
"Oh, you all right there?" said Ron. "Shall we help him?"
Lucia turned to Ron with a small smile that told Ron enough that she was having mischievous moment currently. "I dunno... he's kind of showing his..."
"HELP ME!" Harry seethed.
"Okay, okay!" said Lucia, hurrying over.
"Sorry," said Ron, wrenching Harry back out of the brambles.
"What was that for even?" Harry deadpanned.
"Ah well, the name's been jinxed, you know?" said Lucia simply.
"Um, no?"
"Geez, I thought you knew since you both never said his name..."
"Harry, that's how they track people! Using his name breaks protective enchantments, it causes some kind of magical disturbance — it's how they found us in Tottenham Court Road!"
"Because we used his name?"
"Basically. It's one of the same reason why I went into hiding too," Lucia said. "But you've got to give them credit where credit is due,"
Ron nodded. "It makes sense. It was only people who were serious about standing up to him, like Dumbledore, whoever dared use it. Now they've put a Taboo on it, anyone who says it is trackable — quick-and-easy way to find Order members! They nearly got Kingsley —"
"You're kidding?"
"Yeah, a bunch of Death Eaters cornered him, Bill said, but he fought his way out. He's on the run now, just like us." Ron scratched his chin thoughtfully with the end of his wand. "You don't reckon Kingsley could have sent that doe?"
"I beg to differ," said Lucia, "His Patronus is a lynx,"
"Yeah, we saw it at the wedding, didn't we?" said Harry.
"Oh yeah..." drawled Ron.
They moved farther along the hedge, away from the tent and Hermione.
"Harry... you don't reckon it could've been Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore what?"
Ron looked a little embarrassed, but said in a low voice, "Dumbledore... the doe? I mean," Ron was watching Harry out of the corners of his eyes, "he had the real sword last, didn't he?
Harry did not laugh at Ron, because he understood too well the longing behind the question. The idea that Dumbledore had managed to come back to them, that he was watching over them, would have been inexpressibly comforting. He shook his head.
"Dumbledore's dead," he said in a cold manner, "I saw it happen, I saw the body. He's definitely gone. Anyway, his Patronus was a phoenix, not a doe."
"Patronuses can change, though, can't they?" said Ron. "Tonks's changed, didn't it?"
"Yeah, but if Dumbledore was alive, why wouldn't he show himself? Why wouldn't he just hand us the sword?"
"Search me," said Ron. "Same reason he didn't give it to you while he was alive? Same reason he left you an old Snitch, Lucia his glasses that she can't even see through it, and Hermione a book of kids' stories?"
"Which is what?" asked Harry, turning to look Ron full in the face, desperate for the answer.
"I dunno," said Ron. "Sometimes I've thought, when I've been a bit hacked off, he was having a laugh or — or he just wanted to make it more difficult. But I don't think so, not anymore. He knew what he was doing when he gave me the Deluminator, didn't he? He — well," Ron's ears turned bright red and he became engrossed in a tuft of grass at his feet, which he prodded with his toe, "he must've known I'd run out on you."
Lucia smacked the back of his head with the wicker basket she was holding, glaring at him. Ron yelped at her.
"No," Harry corrected him. "He must've known you'd always want to come back."
Ron looked grateful, but still awkward. Partly to change the subject, Harry said, "Speaking of Dumbledore, have you heard what Skeeter wrote about him?"
"Oh yeah," said Ron at once, "people are talking about it quite a lot. 'Course, if things were different, it'd be huge news, Dumbledore being pals with Grindelwald, but now it's just something to laugh about for people who didn't like Dumbledore, and a bit of a slap in the face for everyone who thought he was such a good bloke. I don't know that it's such a big deal, though. He was really young when they —"
"Our age," said Harry, just as he had retorted to Hermione, and something in his face and Lucia shaking head seemed to decide Ron against pursuing the subject.
"Either way, that's in the — spider!" Lucia recoiled harshly, causing her to trip on her feet and land on her bum on the ground. But that didn't seem to stop her from dragging herself backwards from where she was. "S-Someone get that spider!"
Harry glanced at the fallen girl with an amused expression. This was the same girl that could crush a cockroach if she wanted to, yet was scared by spiders. He had remember when back when spiders were his only friends under the cupboard, so naturally he wasn't scared of them. Actually, he liked to play with them. He went over to study it and immediately caught sight of the large spider that was sat in the of a frosted web in the brambles.
Harry took aim at it with the wand Ron had given him the previous night, which Hermione had since condescended to examine, and had decided was made of blackthorn.
"Engorgio."
The spider gave a little shiver, bouncing slightly in the web. Harry tried again. This time the spider grew slightly larger.
"You wanker!" shrilled Lucia, slipping on ice when she went to back away. But she had clutched on Ron, causing her to bring him down with her.
"Stop that," said Ron sharply, trying to get . "I'm sorry I said Dumbledore was young, okay?"
"Sorry — Reducio."
The spider did not shrink. Harry looked down at the blackthorn wand. Every minor spell he had cast with it so far that day had seemed less powerful than those he had produced with his phoenix wand. The new one felt intrusively unfamiliar, like having somebody else's hand sewn to the end of his arm.
"Ron! Ron! You do it!" Lucia urged Ron, pushing him upfront.
"Me? What's about you?"
"You're the one with a wand!"
Ron went to rebut, but didn't when he saw, in the corner of his eyes, Hermione approaching them. He immediately shut his mouth.
"Enough, you two," said Hermione, feeling a headache coming in. She had almost forgotten the bickers that would happen between the redhead. She then looked at Harry, who tried to enlarge and reduce the spider. "It's all a matter of confidence, Harry. You just need to practice."
He knew why she wanted it to be all right: She still felt guilty about breaking his wand. He bit back the retort that sprang to his lips, that she could take the blackthorn wand if she thought it made no difference, and he would have hers instead. Keen for them all to be friends again, however, he agreed; but when Ron gave Hermione a tentative smile, she stalked off and vanished behind her book once more.
"Poor luck, darling," Lucia pat his back pityingly.
All four of them returned to the tent when darkness fell, and Harry took first watch. Sitting in the entrance, he tried to make the blackthorn wand levitate small stones at his feet; but his magic still seemed clumsier and less powerful than it had done before. Lucia was accompanying him, though not really paying attention to her surroundings as she finishes up the portrait with her head rested on his shoulder. Hermione was lying on her bunk reading, while Ron, after many nervous glances up at her, had taken a small wooden wireless out of his rucksack and started to try and tune it.
"There's this one program," he told Harry in a low voice, "that tells the news like it really is. All the others are on You-Know-Who's side and are following the Ministry line, but this one... you wait till you hear it, it's great. Only they can't do it every night, they have to keep changing locations in case they're raided, and you need a password to tune in... Trouble is, I missed the last one..."
He drummed lightly on the top of the radio with his wand, muttering random words under his breath. He threw Hermione many covert glances, plainly fearing an angry outburst, but for all the notice she took of him he might not have been there. For ten minutes or so Ron tapped and muttered, Hermione turned the pages of her book, Lucia inked in the drawing, and Harry continued to practice with the blackthorn wand.
Finally Hermione climbed down from her bunk. Ron ceased his tapping at once.
"If it's annoying you, I'll stop!" he told Hermione nervously.
Lucia snorted, however didn't ceased her eyes away from her work, not noticing Hermione approaching her and Harry until he nudged her ribs.
She glared at him. "What was that —"
"We need to talk," said a very stern Hermione.
Whipping her head to face the bushy haired girl, Lucia saw a book being clutched in her hand. It was The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.
"What?" Harry said apprehensively. It flew through his mind that there was a chapter on him in there; he was not sure he felt up to hearing Rita's version of his relationship with Dumbledore. Hermione's answer, however, was completely unexpected.
"I want to go and see Xenophilius Lovegood."
Harry seemed to think he had heard her wrong. "Sorry?"
"Xenophilius Lovegood. Luna's father. I want to go and talk to him!"
"I don't mind paying him a visit and all, but why exactly should we do that?" said Lucia, genuinely confused.
She took a deep breath, as though bracing herself, and said, "It's that mark, the mark in Beedle the Bard. Look at this!"
She thrust The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore under Harry's unwilling eyes and he saw a photograph of the original letter that Dumbledore had written Grindelwald, with Dumbledore's familiar thin, slanting handwriting. He hated seeing absolute proof that Dumbledore really had written those words, that they had not been Rita's invention.
"The signature," said Hermione. "Look at the signature!"
Sharing perplexed and apprehensive looks, Lucia and Harry obeyed. For a moment there she had thought Hermione had accidentally ate some poisonous wild berries, but the more she looked closer with the aid of the lit wand courtesy of Harry, she saw that Dumbledore had replaced the A of Albus with a tiny version of the same triangular mark inscribed upon The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
"Er — what are you — ?" said Ron tentatively, but Hermione quelled him with a look and turned back to them.
"It keeps cropping up, doesn't it?" she said. "I know Viktor said it was Grindelwald's mark, but it was definitely on that old grave in Godric's Hollow, and the dates on the headstone were long before Grindelwald came along! And now this! Well, we can't 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'm sure this is important, Harry!"
Lucia glanced up at Harry when she noticed that he did not answer immediately, only looking into Hermione's terrifyingly intense and eager face and then out into the surrounding darkness, thinking. After a long pause he said, "Hermione, we don't need another Godric's Hollow. We talked ourselves into going there, and —"
"But it keeps appearing, Harry! Dumbledore left me The Tales of Beedle the Bard, how do you know we're not supposed to find out about the sign?"
"Here we go again!" Harry felt slightly exasperated. "We keep trying to convince ourselves Dumbledore left us secret signs and clues —"
"The Deluminator turned out to be pretty useful," piped up Ron. "I think Hermione's right, I think we ought to go and see Lovegood."
Harry threw him a dark look. He was quite sure that Ron's support of Hermione had little to do with a desire to know the meaning of the triangular rune.
"Harry, calm down," said Lucia earnestly, "I know you have grudges against Mr-Two-Face-Dumbledore," the rest scrunched their noses at her unnecessary insult, "But I'm with Ron and Hermione here. If the Deluminator can turned out to be something very useful than a lighter, than why can't the book too? I think you've also forgotten that the spectacles he gave me wasn't some normal eyewear as well," she added with a raise of a brow.
"It won't be like Godric's Hollow," Ron reassured, "Lovegood's on your side, Harry, The Quibbler's been for you all along, it keeps telling everyone they've got to help you!"
"I'm sure this is important!" said Hermione earnestly.
"But don't you think if it was, Dumbledore would have told me about it before he died?"
"Maybe... maybe it's something you need to find out for yourself," said Hermione with a faint air of clutching at straws.
"Yeah," said Ron sycophantically, "that makes sense."
"No, it doesn't," snapped Hermione, "but I still think we ought to talk to Mr. Lovegood. A symbol that links Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Godric's Hollow? Harry, I'm sure we ought to know about this!"
"I think we should vote on it," said Ron. "Those in favour of going to see Lovegood —"
His hand flew into the air before Hermione's. Her lips quivered suspiciously as she raised her own. Lucia shook her head in amusement and rose her hand as well.
"Three out of four, love~" sang Lucia mockingly at him.
"Outvoted, Harry, sorry," said Ron, clapping him on the back.
"Fine," said Harry, half amused, half irritated. "Only, once we've seen Lovegood, let's try and look for some more Horcruxes, shall we? Where do the Lovegoods live, anyway? Do either of you know?"
"Yeah, they're not far from my place," said Ron. "I dunno exactly where, but Mum and Dad always point toward the hills whenever they mention them. Shouldn't be hard to find."
When Hermione had returned to her bunk, Harry lowered his voice.
"You only agreed to try and get back in her good books."
"All's fair in love and war," said Ron brightly, "and this is a bit of both. Cheer up, it's the Christmas holidays, Luna'll be home!"
Lucia froze momentarily.
Ron was right, Luna would be home due to the Christmas holidays. She remembered even seeing her off to Hogsmeade Station along with Ginny and the others as well... But why did her heart feel heavy all of the sudden?
She ought to not think about it as she mustered up an exciting smile. "I do remember her saying that she'll be home..."
"See, take it from someone who's been going to Hogwarts while we weren't. She knows more about our friends than we do!" stated Ron in a rambunctious manner.
They had an excellent view of the village of Ottery St. Catchpole from the breezy hillside to which they, as a four people group for the first time, Disapparate next morning. From their high vantage point the village looked like a collection of toy houses in the great slanting shafts of sunlight stretching to earth in the breaks between clouds. They stood for a minute or two looking toward the Burrow, their hands shadowing their eyes, but all they could make out were the high hedges and trees of the orchard, which afforded the crooked little house protection from Muggle eyes.
"Ah," Lucia sighed reminiscently as she stared over yonder at the Burrow, "I remember it like it was just yesterday when I usurp dominance over you room, Ron. It practically became my room for months, and not to mention that very window was where I always sat on, thinking whether I should jump or not..." she let out another heave of sigh, "Good times,"
The other three could merely gape at her nonchalant words.
"I-I think you have a different perception of 'good times', DiFiore," said Harry, deadpanning.
"Eh," she shrugged her shoulders, "It changed over the course of the months,"
"It's weird, being this near, but not going to visit," said Ron.
"Well, it's not like you haven't just seen them. You were there for Christmas," said Hermione coldly.
"No way am I going to go back to the Burrow after that!" said Ron with an incredulous laugh. "Do you think I was going to go back there and tell them all I'd walked out on you? Yeah, Fred and George would've been great about it, and Erin's probably would have whipped up some pudding for me. And Ginny, she'd have been really understanding."
"And how are you so sure that Ginny won't be with the Lovegoods?" smirked Lucia. "I'm sure that Ginny would try and keep Luna in her eye sight, especially with times like these."
"Because she probably have enough time spent with her in Hogwarts. Can't say the same 'bout Mum and Dad," rebutted Ron.
"But where have you been, then?" asked Hermione, surprised.
"Bill and Fleur's new place."
"Shell Cottage?" Lucia inquired. Ron nodded.
"Bill's always been decent to me. He — he wasn't impressed when he heard what I'd done, but he didn't go on about it. He knew I was really sorry. None of the rest of the family know I was there. Bill told Mum he and Fleur weren't going home for Christmas because they wanted to spend it alone. You know, first holiday after they were married. I don't think Fleur minded. You know how much she hates Celestina Warbeck."
"How does it feel, by the way? Finally getting an older sister?" mused Lucia. "Especially someone like Fleur? She's known to be a very protective sister, you know?"
Ron scratched his head. "It's been fine, I guess. Still need to get used to her being an actual older sister to us now," he added absentmindedly.
Ron turned his back on the Burrow.
"Let's try up here," he said, leading the way over the top of the hill.
They walked for a few hours, Harry, at Hermione's insistence, hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak. The cluster of low hills appeared to be uninhabited apart from one small cottage, which seemed deserted.
"How are you so sure that's the Lovegoods' pad? What if it's some random wizard family?" said a sceptic Lucia.
"Even if it is theirs, do you think they've gone away for Christmas?" said Hermione, peering through the window at a neat little kitchen with geraniums on the windowsill. Ron snorted.
"Listen, I've got a feeling you'd be able to tell who lived there if you looked through the Lovegoods' window. Let's try the next lot of hills."
So they Disapparated a few miles farther north.
"Aha!" shouted Ron, as the wind whipped their hair and clothes. Ron was pointing upward, toward the top of the hill on which they had appeared, where a most strange-looking house rose vertically against the sky, a great black cylinder with a ghostly moon hanging behind it in the afternoon sky. "That's got to be Luna's house, who else would live in a place like that? It looks like a giant rook!"
"Woah," awed Lucia.
"It's nothing like a bird," said Hermione, frowning at the tower.
"I was talking about a chess rook," said Ron. "A castle to you."
Ron's legs were the longest and he reached the top of the hill first. When Harry, Lucia, and Hermione caught up with him, panting and clutching stitches in their sides, they found him grinning broadly.
"It's theirs," said Ron. "Look."
Three hand-painted signs had been tacked to a broken-down gate. The first read,
THE QUIBBLER. EDITOR: X. LOVEGOOD
The second,
PICK YOUR OWN MISTLETOE
"They have mistletoes?"
"Focus,"
"Right,"
The third,
KEEP OFF THE DIRIGIBLE PLUMS
The gate creaked as they opened it. The zigzagging path leading to the front door was overgrown with a variety of odd plants, including a bush covered in the orange radishlike fruit Luna sometimes wore as earrings. Lucia thought she recognized a Snargaluff and instantly recoiled from it, getting a brief flashback of the horrifying Herbology lesson a year ago. Two aged crab apple trees, bent with the wind, stripped of leaves but still heavy with berry-sized red fruits and bushy crowns of white-beaded mistletoe, stood sentinel on either side of the front door. A little owl with a slightly flattened, hawklike head peered down at them from one of the branches.
"You'd better take off the Invisibility Cloak, Harry," said Hermione. "It's you Mr. Lovegood wants to help, not us."
He did as she suggested, handing her the Cloak to stow in the beaded bag.
"He'll probably need proof though, so come here, love," Lucia reached for the tousled black hair that was hiding the prominent scar of his, as she took a sharp inhale of the proximity that they were in. Mindlessly, his hand found her waist, but it didn't seem as though she minded the action, brushing his hair away, displaying the scar outright to the public.
Lucia pulled away from him, much to Harry's dismay. She clasped her hands together and smiled, pleased with the hairstyle she had just styled on her lover. "Dashing and celebrity-like,"
"Is this really necessary," snorted Ron, earning himself a glare from his best friend.
"Yes," Lucia and Hermione deadpanned simultaneously.
The latter of the two then rapped three times on the thick black door, which was studded with iron nails and bore a knocker shaped like an eagle.
Barely ten seconds passed, then the door was flung open and there stood Xenophilius Lovegood, barefoot and wearing what appeared to be a stained nightshirt. His long white candyfloss hair was dirty and unkempt. Xenophilius had been positively dapper at Bill and Fleur's wedding by comparison.
"What? What is it? Who are you? What do you want?" he cried in a high-pitched, querulous voice, looking first at Hermione, then at Ron, then to Lucia, and finally at Harry, upon which his mouth fell open in a perfect, comical O.
"Hello, Mr. Lovegood," said Harry, holding out his hand. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter."
Xenophilius did not take Harry's hand, although the eye that was not pointing inward at his nose slid straight to the scar on Harry's forehead.
"Would it be okay if we came in?" asked Harry. "There's something we'd like to ask you."
"I... I'm not sure that's advisable," whispered Xenophilius. He swallowed and cast a quick look around the garden. "Rather a shock... My word... I... I'm afraid I don't really think I ought to —"
"It won't take long," said Harry, slightly disappointed by this less-than-warm welcome.
"I — oh, all right then. Come in, quickly. Quickly!"
They were barely over the threshold when Xenophilius slammed the door shut behind them. They were standing in the most peculiar kitchen Lucia had ever seen; the room was perfectly circular, so that it felt like being inside a giant pepper pot. Everything was curved to fit the walls — the stove, the sink, and the cupboards — and all of it had been painted with flowers, insects, and birds in bright primary colours. Lucia thought she recognized Luna's style: The effect, in such an enclosed space, was slightly overwhelming.
In the middle of the floor, a wrought-iron spiral staircase led to the upper levels. There was a great deal of clattering and banging coming from overhead, which led Lucia to wonder what was happening up there and inevitably: Where's Luna?
"You'd better come up," said Xenophilius, still looking extremely uncomfortable, and he led the way.
The room above seemed to be a combination of living room and workplace, and as such, was even more cluttered than the kitchen. Though much smaller and entirely round, the room somewhat resembled the Room of Requirement on the unforgettable occasion that it had transformed itself into a gigantic labyrinth comprised of centuries of hidden objects. There were piles upon piles of books and papers on every surface. Delicately made models of creatures, all flapping wings or snapping jaws, hung from the ceiling.
Luna was not there: The thing that was making such a racket was a wooden object covered in magically turning cogs and wheels. It looked like the bizarre offspring of a workbench and a set of old shelves, but after a moment Serafina deduced that it was an old-fashioned printing press, due to the fact that it was churning out Quibblers.
"Excuse me," said Xenophilius, and he strode over to the machine, seized a grubby tablecloth from beneath an immense number of books and papers, which all tumbled onto the floor, and threw it over the press, somewhat muffling the loud bangs and clatters. He then faced Harry.
"Why have you come here?"
Before Harry could speak, however, Hermione let out a small cry of shock.
"Mr. Lovegood — what's that?"
She was pointing at an enormous, gray spiral horn, not unlike that of a unicorn, which had been mounted on the wall, protruding several feet into the room
"It is the horn of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack," said Xenophilius.
"No it isn't!" said Hermione.
"Hermione," muttered Harry, embarrassed, "now's not the moment —"
"But Harry, it's an Erumpent horn! It's a Class B Tradeable Material and it's an extraordinarily dangerous thing to have in a house!"
"How d'you know it's an Erumpent horn?" asked Ron, edging away from the horn as fast as he could, given the extreme clutter of the room.
Lucia approached the horn with fascination, "I'm sure she got it from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Newt Scamander, the author, wrote quite a descriptive paragraph all about it, even putting an image of it."
As Lucia went to touch it, Ron quickly smacked her hand away. She went to touch it again, and yet again Ron smacked her hand away. Their actions were repeated continuously before she gave in and let out a huff of annoyance, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "It's a really fascinating thing really. Never seen them before..."
"For a good reason!" said Hermione, wheeling back to the Lovegood patriarch. "Mr. Lovegood, you need to get rid of it straightaway, don't you know it can explode at the slightest touch?"
"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack," said Xenophilius very clearly, a mulish look upon his face, "is a shy and highly magical creature, and its 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," said Xenophilius dogmatically, "two weeks ago, from a delightful young wizard who knew of my interest in the exquisite Snorkack. A Christmas surprise for my Luna. Now," he said, turning to Harry, "why exactly have you come here, Mr. Potter?"
"We need some help," said Harry, before Hermione could start again.
"Ah," said Xenophilius. "Help. Hmm."
His good eye moved again to Harry's scar. He seemed simultaneously terrified and mesmerized.
"Yes. The thing is... helping Harry Potter... rather dangerous..."
"Aren't you the one who keeps telling everyone it's their first duty to help Harry?" said Ron. "In that magazine of yours?"
Xenophilius glanced behind him at the concealed printing press, still banging and clattering beneath the tablecloth.
"Er — yes, I have expressed that view. However —"
"That's for everyone else to do, not you personally?" said Ron.
Xenophilius did not answer. He kept swallowing, his eyes darting between the three of them. Lucia had the impression that he was undergoing some painful internal struggle.
"Maybe you can bring in Luna? We can see what she thinks," she said kindly.
Xenophilius gulped. He seemed to be steeling himself. Finally he said in a shaky voice difficult to hear over the noise of the printing press, "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."
He disappeared down the spiral staircase and they heard the front door open and close. They looked at each other.
"Cowardly old wart," said Ron. "Luna's got ten times his guts."
"I dunno... something about him seems pretty fishy all of the sudden. The Xenophilius Lovegood I've heard of isn't so... well..." Lucia couldn't manage to find the right words to say.
"He's probably worried about what'll happen to them if the Death Eaters find out I was here," said Harry.
"Well, I agree with Ron," said Hermione. "Awful 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."
"Yeah, Lucia. Keep away from that bloody horn," said Ron to her.
Lucia scowled. "Why would you think I wouldn't?"
"Yeah, let's just forget when you tried to touch it a few minutes ago," Ron rolled his eyes. "If it weren't for me, this place would have already blown up."
"Tosser," she scoffed.
"Minger," he retorted
"Git,"
"Muppet,"
"Enough," said Hermione exasperatedly.
Harry, having ignoring the ongoing bickering between the pair, looked around when his gaze fell upon another peculiar object standing upon the cluttered, curved sideboard: a stone bust of a beautiful but austere-looking witch wearing a most bizarre-looking headdress. Two objects that resembled golden ear trumpets curved out from the sides. A tiny pair of glittering blue wings was stuck to a leather strap that ran over the top of her head, while one of the orange radishes had been stuck to a second strap around her forehead.
"Look at this," said Harry.
"Fetching," said Ron. "Surprised he didn't wear that to the wedding."
They heard the front door close, and a moment later Xenophilius had climbed back up the spiral staircase into the room, his thin legs now encased in Wellington boots, bearing a tray of ill-assorted teacups and a steaming teapot.
"Ah, you have spotted my pet invention," he said, shoving the tray into Hermione's arms and joining Harry at the statue's side. "Modelled, fittingly enough, upon the head of —"
"Rowena Ravenclaw," breathed Lucia sharply. The beat of her heart reverberate loudly in her ears, something in the pocket of her jeans was vibrating. The half-moon spectacles, but why?
"Yes..." said Xenophilius, rather surprised. "How did you know?"
Snapping out of her throughts, Lucia finally noticed the looks she was receiving from not only Xenophilius, but as well as her friends. She quickly said, "O-Oh. It's, uh, really well-made model. I've seen it before —"
"Really? The real one?"
"Oh, no," said Lucia, much to the Lovegood's disappointment. She added hastily, "But I've seen it from Hogwarts: A History before. They put Rowena Ravenclaw's portrait in the book,"
"Ah, beautiful woman. 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure!'"
He indicated the objects like ear trumpets.
"These are the Wrackspurt siphons — to remove all sources of distraction from the thinker's immediate area. Here," he pointed out the tiny wings, "a billywig propeller, to induce an elevated frame of mind. Finally," he pointed to the orange radish, "the Dirigible Plum, so as to enhance the ability to accept the extraordinary."
Xenophilius strode back to the tea tray, which Hermione had managed to balance precariously on one of the cluttered side tables.
"May I offer you all an infusion of Gurdyroots?" said Xenophilius. "We make it ourselves." As he started to pour out the drink, which was as deeply purple as beetroot juice, he added, "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.
"Now," he removed a tottering pile of papers from an armchair and sat down, his Wellingtoned legs crossed, "how may I help you, Mr. Potter?"
"Well," said Harry, glancing at Hermione, who nodded encouragingly, "it's about that symbol you were wearing around your neck at Bill and Fleur's wedding, Mr. Lovegood. We wondered what it meant."
Xenophilius raised his eyebrows.
"Are you referring to the sign of the Deathly Hallows?"