—— ϟ ——
Though the walk through the dark forest with the doe had seemed lengthy, with Ron by his side the journey back seemed to take a surprisingly short time. Harry could not wait to wake Hermione, and it was with quickening excitement that he entered the tent, Ron lagging a little behind him.
Hermione was fast asleep, curled up under her blankets, and did not move until Harry had said her name several times.
"Hermione!"
She stirred, then sat up quickly, pushing her hair out of her face.
"What's wrong? Harry? Are you all right?"
"It's okay, everything's fine. More than fine. I'm great. There's someone here."
"What do you mean? Who — ?"
She saw Ron, who stood there holding the sword and dripping onto the threadbare carpet. Harry backed into a shadowy corner, slipped off Ron's rucksack, and attempted to blend in with the canvas.
Hermione slid out of her bunk and moved like a sleepwalker toward Ron, her eyes upon his pale face. She stopped right in front of him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide. Ron gave a weak, hopeful smile and half raised his arms.
Hermione launched herself forward and started punching every inch of him that she could reach.
"Ouch — ow — gerroff! What the — ? Hermione — OW!"
"You — complete — arse — Ronald — Weasley!"
She punctuated every word with a blow: Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced.
"You — crawl — back — here — after — weeks — and — weeks — oh, where's my wand?"
She looked as though ready to wrestle it out of Harry's hands and he reacted instinctively.
"Protego!"
The invisible shield erupted between Ron and Hermione: The force of it knocked her backward onto the floor. Spitting hair out of her mouth, she leapt up again.
"Hermione!" said Harry. "Calm —"
"I will not calm down!" she screamed. Never before had he seen her lose control like this; she looked quite demented. "Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!"
"Hermione, will you please —"
"Don't you tell me what to do, Harry Potter!" she screeched. "Don't you dare! Give it back now! And YOU!"
She was pointing at Ron in dire accusation: It was like a malediction, and Harry could not blame Ron for retreating several steps.
"I came running after you! I called you! I begged you to come back!"
"I know," Ron said, "Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm really —"
"Oh, you're sorry!" She laughed, a high-pitched, out-of-control sound; Ron looked at Harry for help, but Harry merely grimaced his helplessness.
"You come back after weeks — weeks — and you think it's all going to be all right if you just say sorry?"
"Well, what else can I say?" Ron shouted, and Harry was glad that Ron was fighting back.
"Oh, I don't know!" yelled Hermione with awful sarcasm. "Rack your brains, Ron, that should only take a couple of seconds —"
"Hermione," interjected Harry, who considered this a low blow, "he just saved my —"
"I don't care!" she screamed. "I don't care what he's done! Weeks and weeks, we could have been dead for all he knew —"
"I knew you weren't dead!" bellowed Ron, drowning her voice for the first time, and approaching as close as he could with the Shield Charm between them. "Harry's all over the Prophet, all over the radio, they're looking for you everywhere, all these rumors and mental stories, I knew I'd hear straight off if you were dead, you don't know what it's been like —"
"What it's been like for you?"
Her voice was now so shrill only bats would be able to hear it soon, but she had reached a level of indignation that rendered her temporarily speechless, and Ron seized his opportunity.
"I wanted to come back the minute I'd Disapparated, but I walked straight into a gang of Snatchers, Hermione, and I couldn't go anywhere!"
"A gang of what?" asked Harry, as Hermione threw herself down into a chair with her arms and legs crossed so tightly it seemed unlikely that she would unravel them for several years.
"Snatchers," said Ron. "They're everywhere — gangs trying to earn gold by rounding up Muggle-borns and blood traitors, there's a reward from the Ministry for everyone captured. I was on my own and I look like I might be school age; they got really excited, thought I was a Muggle-born in hiding. I had to talk fast to get out of being dragged to the Ministry."
"What did you say to them?"
"Told them I was Stan Shunpike. First person I could think of."
"And they believed that?"
"They weren't the brightest. One of them was definitely part troll, the smell off him. ..."
Ron glanced at Hermione, clearly hopeful she might soften at this small instance of humor, but her expression remained stony above her tightly knotted limbs.
"One thing I would like to know, though," she said, fixing her eyes on a spot a foot over Ron's head. "How exactly did you find us tonight? That's important. Once we know, we'll be able to make sure we're not visited by anyone else we don't want to see."
Ron glared at her, then pulled a small silver object from his jeans pocket. "This."
She had to look at Ron to see what he was showing them.
"The Deluminator?" she asked, so surprised she forgot to look cold and fierce.
"It doesn't just turn the lights on and off," said Ron. "I don't know how it works or why it happened then and not any other time, because I've been wanting to come back ever since I left. But I was listening to the radio really early on Christmas morning and I heard ... I heard you."
He was looking at Hermione.
"You heard me on the radio?" she asked incredulously.
"No, I heard you coming out of my pocket. Your voice," he held up the Deluminator again, "came out of this."
"And what exactly did I say?" asked Hermione, her tone somewhere between skepticism and curiosity.
"My name. 'Ron.' And you said ... something about a wand. ..."
Hermione turned a fiery shade of scarlet.
"It was just like Noel said then? It was used to guide you?" Harry asked, nervously looking between the two.
"Yeah, I guess Dumbledore knew I'd bail on you." Ron said meekly.
Hermione looked over at steely. "Tell me about the Horcrux."
They explained what had happened, and as the story of the silver doe and the sword in the pool unfolded, Hermione frowned from one to the other of them, concentrating so hard she forgot to keep her limbs locked together.
"But it must have been a Patronus!" she said. "Couldn't you see who was casting it? Didn't you see anyone? And it led you to the sword! I can't believe this! Then what happened?"
Ron explained how he had watched Harry jump into the pool and had waited for him to resurface; how he had realized that something was wrong, dived in, and saved Harry, then returned for the sword. He got as far as the opening of the locket, then hesitated, and Harry cut in. "— and Ron stabbed it with the sword."
"And...and it went? Just like that?" she whispered.
"Well, it — it screamed," said Harry with half a glance at Ron. "Here." He threw the locket into her lap; gingerly she picked it up and examined its punctured windows.
Hermione put the vanquished Horcrux into the beaded bag, then climbed back into her bed and settled down without another word. Ron passed Harry a new wand that he had managed to take from the Snatchers. "About the best you could hope for, I think," murmured Harry.
"Yeah," said Ron. "Could've been worse. Remember those birds she set on me?"
"I still haven't ruled it out," came Hermione's muffled voice from beneath her blankets, but Harry saw Ron smiling slightly as he pulled his maroon pajamas out of his rucksack.
Late in the afternoon he and Ron escaped Hermione's baleful presence again, and under the pretense of scouring the bare hedges for nonexistent blackberries, they continued their ongoing exchange of news. Harry had finally managed to tell Ron the whole story of his and Hermione's various wanderings, right up to the full story of what had happened at Godric's Hollow; Ron was now filling Harry 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 Harry after explaining the many desperate attempts of Muggle-borns to evade the Ministry.
"The what?" "You and Hermione have 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 —"
"NO!" roared Ron, causing Harry to jump into the hedge and Hermione (nose buried in a book at the tent entrance) to scowl over at them.
"Sorry," said Ron, wrenching Harry back out of the brambles, "but the name's been jinxed, 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?"
"Exactly! You've got to give them credit, 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?"
"His Patronus is a lynx, we saw it at the wedding, remember?"
"Oh yeah..." They moved farther along the hedge, away from the tent and Hermione.
"Harry... do you think it could'veNoel?"
"What?" Harry asked, pausing his pace.
"Well you know, she's always sort of known where you've been. Like a sixth sense." Ron shrugged, a bit embarrassed.
Harry, stared at the ground, unable to say anything, he shook his head definitely. "Her Patronus is a dove."
"Patronuses, can change... and she's y'know..."
"What?" Harry asked, not entirely understanding what Ron was insinuating.
Ron shook his head slightly, "She's your person, Harry. Not even I can take that away from you."
Harry resumed walking not exactly knowing what to say. He sourly remembered what he had seen when they were camping in Wales. Noel with another boy in the middle of the night nowhere near a village. He knows he shouldn't be as jealous as he is because he broke up with her but still the facts remained and the facts were that Noel was with someone else.
"I believe you," Ron said out of nowhere, "About Noel seeing you at that night, I heard that she's been on the run. The Prophet is looking for her; she's wanted for Moody's death."
"What?" Harry asked, aghast.
Ron nodded his head solemnly, "Yeah, but she was the last to be seen with him and they'll use any excuse to get her. She's safe though, she's working with some underground werewolves and the Order isn't sending her on missions." Ron shrugged. "Or that's what Bill told me at least."
Walking back to the tent, after collecting some firewood, the two were joined by Hermione who was reading up in her bunk. With many nervous glances towards her, Ron pulled out a wireless from his run sack trying to 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, and Harry continued to practice with the blackthorn wand.
But not until March did luck favor Ron at last. Harry was sitting in the tent entrance, on guard duty, staring idly at a clump of grape hyacinths that had forced their way through the chilly ground, when Ron shouted excitedly from inside the tent.
"I've got it, I've got it! Password was 'Albus'! Get in here, Harry!"
Roused for the first time in days from his contemplation of the Deathly Hallows, Harry hurried back inside the tent to find Ron and Hermione kneeling on the floor beside the little radio. Hermione, who had been polishing the sword of Gryffindor just for something to do, was sitting open-mouthed, staring at the tiny speaker, from which a most familiar voice was issuing.
"... apologize for our temporary absence from the airwaves, which was due to a number of house calls in our area by those charming Death Eaters."
"But that's Lee Jordan!" said Hermione.
"I know!" beamed Ron. "Cool, eh?"
"... now found ourselves another secure location," Lee was saying, "and I'm pleased to tell you that two of our regular contributors have joined me here this evening. Evening, boys!"
"Hi."
"Evening, River."
" 'River,' that's Lee," Ron explained. "They've all got code names, but you can usually tell —"
"Shh!" said Hermione.
"But before we hear from Royal and Romulus," Lee went on, "let's take a moment to report those deaths that the Wizarding Wireless Network News and Daily Prophet don't think important enough to mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell."
Harry felt a sick, swooping in his belly. He, Ron, and Hermione gazed at one another in horror.
"A goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed. It is believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both believed to have been traveling with Tonks, Cresswell, and Gornuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news."
"Finally, we regret to inform our listeners that the remains of Bathilda Bagshot have been discovered in Godric's Hollow. The evidence is that she died several months ago. The Order of the Phoenix informs us that her body showed unmistakable signs of injuries inflicted by Dark Magic.
"Listeners, I'd like to invite you now to join us in a minute's silence in memory of Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell, Bathilda Bagshot, Gornuk, and the unnamed, but no less regretted, Muggles murdered by the Death Eaters."
"Thank you," said Lee's voice. "And now we turn to regular contributor Royal, for an update on how the new Wizarding order is affecting the Muggle world."
"Thanks, River," said an unmistakable voice, deep, measured, reassuring.
"Kingsley!" burst out Ron.
"We know!" said Hermione, hushing him
"Muggles remain ignorant of the source of their suffering as they continue to sustain heavy casualties," said Kingsley.
"However, we continue to hear truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbors, often without the Muggles' knowledge. I'd like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken."
"And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be 'Wizards first'?" asked Lee.
"I'd say that it's one short step from 'Wizards first' to 'Purebloods first,' and then to 'Death Eaters,' " replied Kingsley. "We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving."
"Excellently put, Royal, and you've got my vote for Minister of Magic if ever we get out of this mess," said Lee. "And now, over to Romulus for our popular feature 'Pals of Potter.' "
"Thanks, River," said another very familiar voice; Ron started to speak, but Hermione forestalled him in a whisper.
"We know it's Lupin!"
"Romulus, do you maintain, as you have every time you've appeared on our program, that Harry Potter is still alive?"
"I do," said Lupin firmly. "There is no doubt at all in my mind that his death would be proclaimed as widely as possible by the Death Eaters if it had happened, because it would strike a deadly blow at the morale of those resisting the new regime. 'The Boy Who Lived' remains a symbol of everything for which we are fighting: the triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting."
"And what would you say to Harry if you knew he was listening, Romulus?"
"I'd tell him we're all with him in spirit," said Lupin, then hesitated slightly. "And I'd tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right."
"And now let's move to news concerning the wizard who is proving just as elusive as Harry Potter. We like to refer to him as the Chief Death Eater, and here to give his views on some of the more insane rumors circulating about him, I'd like to introduce a new correspondent: Rodent."
" 'Rodent'?" said yet another familiar voice, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione cried out together:
"Fred!"
"No — is it George?"
"It's Fred, I think," said Ron, leaning in closer, as whichever twin it was said, "I'm not being 'Rodent,' no way, I told you I wanted to be 'Rapier'!"
"Oh, all right then. 'Rapier,' could you please give us your take on the various stories we've been hearing about the Chief Death Eater?"
"Yes, River, I can," said Fred. "As our listeners will know, unless they've taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond or somewhere similar, You- Know-Who's strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice little climate of panic. Mind you, if all the alleged sightings of him are genuine, we must have a good nineteen You-Know-Whos running around the place."
"Which suits him, of course," said Kingsley. "The air of mystery is creating more terror than actually showing himself."
"Agreed," said Fred. "So, people, let's try and calm down a bit. Things are bad enough without inventing stuff as well. For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill with a single glance from his eyes. That's a basilisk, listeners. One simple test: Check whether the thing that's glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it's safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that's still likely to be the last thing you ever do."
For the first time in weeks and weeks, Harry was laughing: He could feel the weight of tension leaving him.
"And the rumors that he keeps being sighted abroad?" asked Lee.
"Well, who wouldn't want a nice little holiday after all the hard work he's been putting in?" asked Fred. "Point is, people, don't get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he's out of the country. Maybe he is, maybe he isn't, but the fact remains he can move faster than Severus Snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to, so don't count on him being a long way away if you're planning on taking any risks. I never thought I'd hear myself say it, but safety first!"
"Thank you very much for those wise words, Rapier," said Lee. "Ladies and Gentlemen, last but not least and I would say the most important, we have Evergreen, with the weekly medical report."
"Thank you, River," a heart-wrenchingly familiar voice said, Harry didn't need Ron to say who that was, he knew it all too well.
"Noel." He said breathlessly, paying every ounce of attention.
"Well, acquaintances at St. Mungos have shared with me that 70% of the injuries arriving are injuries easily curable at home. We sent a pamphlet in the Quibbler earlier this month with instructions and remedies on how to treat minor injuries. Although St.Mungo's is a hospital, it's unsafe to travel especially if you can stay safe at home.
Nonetheless, Galaxy and I are still offering healing services at the known locations. But please, you don't need to fill the waiting rooms with bug bites, supplies are limited and we all own wands, it's time to put them to good use."
Listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. We don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials: The next password will be 'Mad-Eye.' Keep each other safe: Keep faith. Good night."
The radio's dial twirled and the lights behind the tuning panel went out. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still beaming. Hearing familiar, friendly voices was an extraordinary tonic; Harry had become so used to their isolation he had nearly forgotten that other people were resisting Voldemort. It was like waking from a long sleep.
"Good, eh?" said Ron happily.
"Brilliant," said Harry.
"It's so brave of them," sighed Hermione admiringly. "If they were found ..."
"Well, they keep on the move, don't they?" said Ron. "Like us."
"But did you hear what Fred said?" asked Harry excitedly; now the broadcast was over, his thoughts turned again toward his all-consuming obsession. "He's abroad! He's still looking for the Wand, I knew it!"
"Harry —"
"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol —"
"HARRY, NO!"
"— demort's after the Elder Wand!"
"The name's Taboo!" Ron bellowed, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent. "I told you, Harry, I told you, we can't say it anymore — we've got to put the protection back around us — quickly — it's how they find —"
But Ron stopped talking, and Harry knew why. The Sneakoscope on the table had lit up and begun to spin; they could hear voices coming nearer and nearer: rough, excited voices. Ron pulled the Deluminator out of his pocket and clicked it: Their lamps went out.
"Come out of there with your hands up!" came a rasping voice through the darkness. "We know you're in there! You've got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!"
a/n: I am so... I graduated high school yesterday and I honestly don't know how to feel ;(. As I figure out what I'm supposed to do with my life I'll be grinding out there last couple chapters.
I skipped over the chapter where Harry and co go to Xenophilius's house and learn about the Three Brothers because... it'll come up later :D