𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗡𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗔 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗧

ACT TWO, CHAPTER NINE
grindelwald.

BOTH VENUS AND Hermione decided to give Harry his space. It was clear that his broken wand was causing him immense pain. However, the only difference between the two was that Hermione seemed scared to talk to Harry. Venus was not. He had taken his frustrations out on her a lot — and no, she doesn't blame him for that, it just meant that he felt safe enough with her to see that he could yell and scream his mind and not be judged for it.

It was about a day after what they had experienced in Godric's Hollow, and Hermione wanted to talk to both Harry and Venus about the book she had stolen from Bathilda's house. She seemed extremely scared that Harry might curse her with Venus' wand, which he had been using while keeping watch. While the sun came up over a snowy landscape, Venus led the way out to the entrance of the tent, holding two cups of tea in her hands. Hermione was right behind her, holding a cup of tea in one hand and the book in another.

"Hey," Venus greeted to her boyfriend. She sat down beside him and handed him one of the cups of tea. "For you."

"Thanks, Star," Harry replied.

"Do you mind if we talk to you?" Hermione asked, sitting down beside Venus.

"No."

"Harry, you wanted to know who that man in the picture was. Well . . . I've got the book."

She reached across Venus and put a pristine copy of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore in his lap.

Harry blinked at it. "Where — how—?"

"It was in Bathilda's sitting room, just lying there . . ." Hermione answered. "This note was sticking out of the top of it." She then read the few lines of spiky, acid-green writing out loud. "Dear Batty, Thanks for your help. Here's a copy of the book, hope you like it. You said everything, even if you don't remember it. Rita. I think it must have arrived while the real Bathilda was alive, but perhaps she wasn't in any fit state to read it?"

"No, she probably wasn't."

Harry looked down at Dumbledore's face on the book. Venus started to see the anger start to etch on his features. Venus placed a hand on his thigh and felt him untense from her touch.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "You're still really angry at me, aren't you?"

"No," Harry voiced quietly. "No, Hermione, I know it was an accident. You were trying to get us out of there alive, and you were incredible. Both I'd be dead if you and Venus hadn't been there to help me."

Harry looked back down at the book and opened it. The spine was stiff, obviously never opened. He thumbed through the pages and looked for photographs. Harry finally stumbled across one. It was a young Dumbledore with a handsome young man, both of them roaring with laughter. There was a caption underneath.

Albus Dumbledore, shortly after his mother's death, with his friend Gellert Grindelwald.

Venus' eyes widened upon the name and she looked up, glancing in between Hermione and Harry incredulously. "The thief was . . . Grindelwald?"

Grindelwald. He was the bad wizard before Voldemort. Apparently, he had caused some trouble with the Magical Congress of the United States back in the late twenties.

Harry continued to search the book for Grindelwald's name. He soon discovered it at a chapter named The Greater Good. Harry pushed the book into Venus' lap, who held it up so all three of them could read.

     Now approaching his eighteenth birthday,
     Dumbledore left Hogwarts in a blaze of
     glory — Head Boy, Prefect, Winner of the
     Barnabus Finkley Prize for Exceptional
     Spell-Casting, British Youth Representative
     to the Wizengamot, Gold Medal-Winner
     for Ground-Breaking Contribution to the
     International Alchemical Conference in
     Cairo. Dumbledore intended, next, to
     take a Grand Tour with Elphias "Dogbreath"
     Doge, the dim-witted but devoted sidekick
     he had picked up at school.
          The two young men were staying at
     the Leaky Cauldron in London, preparing
     to depart for Greece the following morning,
     when an owl arrived bearing news of
     Dumbledore's mother's death. "Dogbreath"
     Doge, who refused to be interviewed for
     this book, has given the public his own
     sentimental version of what happened
     next. He represents Kendra's death as a
     tragic blow, and Dumbledore's decision
     to give up his expedition as an act of
     noble self-sacrifice.
          Certainly Dumbledore returned to
     Godric's Hollow at once, supposedly to
     "care" for his younger brother and sister.
     But how much care did he actually give
     them?
          "He were a head case, that Aberforth,"
     says Enid Smeek, whose family lived on
     the outskirts of Godric's Hollow at that
     time. "Ran wild. 'Course, with his mum
     and dad gone you'd have felt sorry for
     him, only he kept chucking goat dung at
     my head. I don't think Albus was fussed
     about him, I never saw them together,
     anyway."
          So what was Albus doing, if not
     comforting his wild young brother? The
     answer, it seems, is ensuring the continued
     imprisonment of his sister. For, though
     her first jailer had died, there was no
     change in the pitiful condition of Ariana
     Dumbledore. Her very existence continued
     to be known only to thosefew outsiders
     who, like "Dogbreath" Doge, could be
     counted upon to believe in the story of
     her "ill health."
          Another such easily satisfied friend of
     the family was Bathilda Bagshot, the
     celebrated magical historian who has
     lived in Godric's Hollow for many years.
     Kendra, of course, had rebuffed Bathilda
     when she first attempted to welcome the
     family to the village. Several years later,
     however, the author sent an owl to Albus
     at Hogwarts, having been favorably
     impressed by his paper on trans-species
     transformation in Transfiguration Today.
     This initial contact led to acquaintance
     with the entire Dumbledore family. At the
     time of Kendra's death, Bathilda was the
     only person in Godric's Hollow who was on
     speaking terms with Dumbledore's mother.
          Unfortunately, the brilliance that Bathilda
     exhibited earlier in her life has now dimmed.
     "The fire's lit, but the cauldron's empty," as
     Ivor Dillonsby put it to me, or, in Enid
     Smeek's slightly earthier phrase, "She's
     nutty as squirrel poo." Nevertheless, a
     combination of tried-and-tested reporting
     techniques enabled me to extract enough
     nuggets of hard fact to string together
     the whole scandalous story.
          Like the rest of the Wizarding world,
     Bathilda puts Kendra's premature death
     down to a backfiring charm, a story
     repeated by Albus and Aberforth in later
     years. Bathilda also parrots the family
     line on Ariana, calling her "frail" and
     "delicate." On one subject, however,
     Bathilda is well worth the effort I put into
     procuring Veritaserum, for she, and she
     alone, knows the full story of the best-kept
     secret of Albus Dumbledore's life. Now
     revealed for the first time, it calls into
     question everything that his admirers
     believed of Dumbledore: his supposed
     hatred of the Dark Arts, his opposition
     to the oppression of Muggles, even his
     devotion to his own family.
          The very same summer that Dumbledore
     went home to Godric's Hollow, now an
     orphan and head of the family, Bathilda
     Bagshot agreed to accept into her home her
     great nephew, Gellert Grindelwald.
          The name of Grindelwald is justly famous:
     In a list of Most Dangerous Dark Wizards
     of All Time, he would miss out on the
     top spot only because You-Know-Who
     arrived, a generation later, to steal his
     crown. As Grindelwald never extended his
     campaign of terror to Britain, however,
     the details of his rise to power are not
     widely known here.
          Educated at Durmstrang, a school
     famous even then for its unfortunate
     tolerance of the Dark Arts, Grindelwald
     showed himself quite as precociously
     brilliant as Dumbledore. Rather than
     channel his abilities into the attainment
     of awards andprizes, however, Gellert
     Grindelwald devoted himself to other
     pursuits. At sixteen years old, even
     Durmstrang felt it could no longer turn
     a blind eye to the twisted experiments of
     Gellert Grindelwald, and he was expelled.
          Hitherto, all that has been known of
     Grindelwald's next movements is that he
     "traveled abroad for some months." It
     can now be revealed that Grindelwald
     chose to visit his great-aunt in Godric's
     Hollow, and that there, intensely shocking
     though it will be for many to hear it, he
     struck up a close friendship with none
     other than Albus Dumbledore.
          "He seemed a charming boy to me,"
     babbles Bathilda,"whatever he became
     later. Naturally I introduced him to poor
     Albus, who was missing the company of
     lads his own age. The boys took to each
     other at once."
          They certainly did. Bathilda shows me a
     letter, kept by her, that Albus Dumbledore
     sent Gellert Grindelwald in the dead of
     night.
          "Yes, even after they'd spent all day in
     discussion — both such brilliant young
     boys, they got on like a cauldron on fire —
     I'd sometimes hear an owl tapping at
     Gellert's bedroom window, delivering a
     letter from Albus! An idea would have
     struck him, and he had to let Gellert know
     immediately!"
          And what ideas they were. Profoundly
     shocking though Albus Dumbledore's
     fans will find it, here are the thoughts
     of their seventeen-year-old hero, as
     relayed to his new best friend. (A copy
     of the original letter may be seen on
     page 463.)

     Gellert —
          Your point about Wizard dominance
     being FOR THE MUGGLES' OWN
     GOOD — this, I think, is the crucial point.
     Yes, we have been given power and yes,
     that power gives us the right to rule,
     but it also gives us responsibilities
     over the ruled. We must stress this point,
     it will be the foundation stone upon which
     we build. Where we are opposed, as we
     surely will be, this must be the basis of
     all our counterarguments. We seize
     control FOR THE GREATER GOOD.
     And from this it follows that where we
     meet resistance, we must use only the
     force that is necessary and no more. (This
     was your mistake at Durmstrang! But I
     do not complain, because if you had not
     been expelled, we would never have met.)
          Albus

          Astonished and appalled though his
     many admirers will be, this letter
     constitutes proof that Albus Dumbledore
     once dreamed of overthrowing the Statute
     of Secrecy and establishing Wizard rule
     over Muggles. What a blow for those who
     have always portrayed Dumbledore as the
     Muggle-borns' greatest champion! How
     hollow those speeches promoting
     Muggle rights seem in the light of this
     damning new evidence! How despicable
     does Albus Dumbledore appear, busy
     plotting his rise to power when he
     should have been mourning his mother
     and caring for his sister!
          No doubt those determined to keep
     Dumbledore on his crumbling pedestal
     will bleat that he did not, after all, put
     his plans into action, that he must have
     suffered a change of heart, that he came
     to his senses. However, the truth seems
     altogether more shocking.
          Barely two months into their great new
     friendship, Dumbledore and Grindelwald
     parted, never to see each other again
     until they met for their legendary duel
     (for more, see chapter 22). What caused
     this abrupt rupture? Had Dumbledore
     come to his senses? Had he told
     Grindelwald he wanted no more part in
     his plans? Alas, no.
          "It was poor little Ariana dying, I think,
     that did it," says Bathilda. "It came as an
     awful shock. Gellert was there in the
     house when it happened, and he came
     back to my house all of a dither, told
     me he wanted to go home the next day.
     Terribly distressed, you know. So I
     arranged a Portkey and that was the
     last I saw of him.
          "Albus was beside himself at Ariana's
     death. It was so dreadful for those two
     brothers. They had lost everybody except
     each other. No wonder tempers ran a
     little high. Aberforth blamed Albus, you
     know, as people will under these dreadful
     circumstances. But Aberforth always
     talked a little madly, poor boy. All the
     same, breaking Albus's nose at the funeral
     was not decent. It would have destroyed
     Kendra to see her sons fighting like that,
     across her daughter's body. A shame
     Gellert could not have stayed for the
     funeral . . . he would have been a comfort
     to Albus, at least . . ."
          This dreadful coffin-side brawl, known
     only to those few who attended Ariana
     Dumbledore's funeral, raises several
     questions. Why exactly did Aberforth
     Dumbledore blame Albus for his sister's
     death? Was it, as "Batty" pretends, a mere
     effusion of grief? Or could there have
     been some more concrete reason for his
     fury? Grindelwald, expelled from
     Durmstrang for near-fatal attacks upon
     fellow students, fled the country hours
     after the girl's death, and Albus (out of
     shame or fear?) never saw him again, not
     until forced to do so by the pleas of the
     Wizarding world.
          Neither Dumbledore nor Grindelwald
     ever seems to have referred to this brief
     boyhood friendship in later life. However,
     there can be no doubt that Dumbledore
     delayed, for some five years of turmoil,
     fatalities, and disappearances, his attack
     upon Gellert Grindelwald. Was it lingering
     affection for the man or fear of exposure
     as his once best friend that caused
     Dumbledore to hesitate? Was it only
     reluctantly that Dumbledore set out to
     capture the man he was once so delighted
     he had met?
          And how did the mysterious Ariana
     die? Was she the inadvertent victim of
     some Dark rite? Did she stumble across
     something she ought not to have done, as
     the two young men sat practicing for their
     attempt at glory and domination? Is it
     possible that Ariana Dumbledore was the
     first person to die "for the greater good"?

The chapter ended. Hermione was the first one done, then Venus. Venus looked up, staring at the snowy landscape in front of her. Literally what had she just read?

Hermione tugged the book out of Venus' hands when Harry was done reading and closed it without looking at it. "Harry—"

Harry shook his head. It seemed like the world crashed down around him. He reached over and took Venus' hand, holding it tightly.

"Harry," Hermione repeated. "Listen to me. It — it doesn't make very nice reading—"

"Yeah, you could say that—" Harry agreed.

"—but don't forget, Harry, this is Rita Skeeter writing."

"You did read that letter to Grindelwald, didn't you?"

"Yes, I — I did."

Venus sighed. "I've done some research on Grindelwald when I was living in America. He caused MACUSA a lot of trouble. Bathilda might've thought it was all talk, but Grindelwald's slogan was For the Greater Good. He used it as justification for everything he had done. At least from this chapter, it looks like Dumbledore gave him the idea for that. It's even said that For the Greater Good was even carved over Nurmengard's entrance."

"What's Nurmengard?" Harry questioned.

"The prison Grindelwald had built to hold his opponents," Hermione answered. "He ended up in there himself, once Dumbledore had caught him. Anyway, it's — it's an awful thought that Dumbledore's ideas helped Grindelwald rise to power. But on the other hand, even Rita can't pretend that they knew each other for more than a few months one summer when they were both really young, and—"

"I thought you'd say that," Harry cut in, his voice slightly shaking with anger. "I thought you'd say They were young. They were the same age as we are now. And here we are, risking our lives to fight the Dark Arts, and there he was, in a huddle with his new best friend, plotting their rise to power over the Muggles."

Harry stood up, letting go of Venus' hand. He started to walk around, trying to shake off some of his anger. Venus watched him, her hands clutching the cup of cold tea.

"I'm not trying to defend what Dumbledore wrote," Hermione insisted. "All that right to rule rubbish, it's Magic Is Might all over again. But Harry, his mother had just died, he was stuck alone in the house—"

"Alone?" Harry repeated. "He wasn't alone! He had his brother and sister for company, his Squib sister he was keeping locked up—"

"I don't believe it." Hermione stood up. "Whatever was wrong with that girl, I don't think she was a Squib. The Dumbledore we knew would never, ever have allowed—"

"The Dumbledore we thought we knew didn't want to conquer Muggles by force!" Harry shouted, his voice echoing across the empty hilltop, and several blackbirds rose into the air, squaking and spiraling into the sky.

"He changed, Harry, he changed! It's as simple as that! Maybe he did believe these things when he was seventeen, but the whole of the rest of his life was devoted to fighting the Dark Arts! Dumbledore was the one who stopped Grindelwald, the one who always voted forMuggle protection and Muggle-born rights, who fought You-Know-Who from the start, and who died trying to bring him down!"

Venus slowly stood up. She looked in between the two of them, not really quite knowing what to do.

"Harry, I'm sorry, but I think the real reason you're so angry isthat Dumbledore never told you any of this himself," Hermione revealed.

Venus blinked. Well, okay.

"Maybe I am!" Harry yelled, throwing his arms over his head. "Look what he asked from me, Hermione! Risk your life, Harry! And again! And again! And don't expect me to explain everything, just trust me blindly, trust that I know what I'm doing, trust me even though I don't trust you! Never the whole truth! Never!"

His voice cracked with the strain. Venus frowned, her own heart breaking for him, like it always did. Harry never deserved any of this. It was blow after blow. Life just continued to beat him up.

"He loved you," Hermione whispered. "I know he loved you."

Harry dropped his arms. "I don't know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me. This isn't love, the mess he's left me in. He shared a damn sight more of what he was really thinking with Gellert Grindelwald than he ever shared with me." Harry picked up Venus' wand, which he had dropped into the snow. "Sorry, Star."

"It's okay," Venus told him quietly.

"Thanks for the tea. I'll finish the watch. You get back in the warm."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, but recognized the dismissal. She picked up the book and walked back past him into the tent, but as she did so, she brushed the top of his head lightly with her hand. Harry momentarily closed his eyes from her touch before opening them again, staring at Venus with his pretty green eyes that were swimming with sadness.

Venus walked up to him and bent down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, right on his scar. "Love you."

"I love you more," Harry insisted.

"Not possible."

Venus then went back inside into the tent to join Hermione, wishing that she could just take Harry's pain away.

╞════════  ༺ ༻  ════════╡

IT WAS SNOWING by the time Hermione took over watch at midnight after Harry and Venus' turns. However, Venus didn't really sleep. It was a mixture of her thoughts and Harry repeatedly waking up next to her. She was also convinced that somebody had called out her name in the distance. It was probably just the wind, but it sounded so real.

Finally, Venus and Harry had enough of just shuffling next to each other in the bunk. They joined Hermione outside, who was huddled in the entrance to the tent reading A History of Magic by the light of her wand. The snow was still falling thickly, causing Venus to shiver and cross her arms across her chest, moving closer to Harry for warmth. Hermione agreed with their notion of packing up early and moving on.

"We'll go somewhere more sheltered," Hermione stated, pulling a sweatshirt on over her pajamas. "I kept thinking I could hear people moving outside. I even thought I saw somebody once or twice."

Venus pulled a sweatshirt of her own over her head — one of her old Thunderbird ones from Ilvermorny. She glanced through the darkness, her eyes slightly straining.

"I'm sure I imagined it. The snow in the dark, it plays tricks on your eyes . . . but perhaps we ought to Disapparate under the Invisibility Cloak, just in case?"

Half an hour later, with the tent packed, Harry wearing the Horcrux, and Hermione clutching the beaded bag, they Disapparated. The usual tightness engulfed Venus, and her feet left the snowy ground before slamming hard onto what felt like frozen dirt with leaves.

Harry peered around at the new forest. "Where are we?"

"The Forest of Dean," Hermione replied, opening her beaded bag and tugging out the tent poles. "I came camping here once with my mum and dad."

Snow was also laid here and the air was bitterly cold, but they were at least protected from the icy wind. They spend most of the day inside the tent, huddled for warmth around the bright blue flames Hermione had produced that could be scooped up and carried around in jar. Venus still couldn't help but feel concerned, remembering the voice she had heard calling her name.

That afternoon fresh snow drifted down upon them, so that even there sheltered clearing had a fresh dusting of powdery snow. Venus barely slept the last two nights and her mind was begging for sleep, clearly exhausted. However, she offered to keep watch. Harry had taken her face in his cold hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead, saying that it was fine, that he could watch while her and Hermione slept.

Venus crawled into the bunk, immediately falling asleep when her head hit the pillow. It was strange — she had no dreams, no nightmares, no nothing. It was like the universe had granted her just one peaceful night of sleep so she could go back to her usual self.

"Star," a familiar voice began, her shoulder being shook by a hand, what felt like five minutes later after she fell asleep. "Hermione! Venus! Hermione!"

Venus sat up quickly, blinking around, her eyebrows knitting in confusion at seeing her boyfriend was . . . wet? "What'd I miss?"

Hermione also sat up quickly and pushed her hair out of her face. "What's wrong? Harry? Are you all right?"

"It's okay, everything's fine," Harry told them. "More than fine. I'm great. There's someone here."

"What do you mean? Who—?"

Venus' eyes then set on the new person, and they widened. It was no other than Ron Weasley, the one who had left them, the one who had been missing for weeks. He was also wet and was dripping onto the threadbare carpet. And in his hand was a silver and ruby sword — the sword of Gryffindor.

She stood up and stared at him incredulously. Harry took her arm and dragged her into the shadowy corner, clearly not wanting to get involved to whatever reunion Hermione and Ron were about to have. He held Hermione's wand in his hand — he had switched on and off between hers and Venus'.

Hermione slowly walked up to Ron. She stopped right in front of him with her lips slightly parted and her eyes wide. Ron gave her a sheepish smile and half raised his arms. Hermione then launched herself forwards and started to punch every inch of him that she could.

"Ouch — ow — gerroff!" Ron shouted. "What the—? Hermione — OW!"

"You — complete — arse — Ronald — Weasley!" Hermione yelled, 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?"

Harry reacted instinctively upon noticing Hermione was ready to wrestle it out of his hands. "Protego!"

The invisible shield erupted between Ron and Hermione. Hermione was knocked backwards onto the floor from the force of it. She spit some hair out of her mouth and got to her feet.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "Calm—"

"Love, that is your first mistake," Venus scolded, stepping out of the shadows. "Never tell a girl to calm down."

"I will not calm down!" Hermione screamed. "Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!"

"Hermione, will you please—" Harry began.

"Don't you tell me what to do, Harry Potter! Don't you dare! Give it back now! And YOU!" She now pointed at Ron, who took several steps back. "I came running after you! I called you! I begged you to come back!"

"I know, Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm really—" Ron pleaded.

"Oh, you're sorry!" Hermione responded, laughing highly. "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 argued, Venus blinking in surprise.

"Oh, I don't know! Rack your brains, Ron, that should only take a couple of seconds—"

"Hermione, he just saved my—" Harry interrupted.

"I don't care!" Hermione protested. "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!" Ron bellowed, 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?"

"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!"

Venus blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Snatchers," Ron repeated. "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?" Harry inquired.

"Told them I was Stan Shunpike. First person I could think of."

"And they believed that?"

"They weren't the brightest," Ron repeated. "One of them was definitely part troll, the smell off him . . ." He glanced at Hermione, hoping she might soften at his humor, but her expression remained stony. "Anyway, they had a row about whether I was Stan or not. It wasa bit pathetic to be honest, but there were still five of them and only one of me and they'd taken my wand. Then two of them got into a fight and while the others were distracted I managed to hit the one holding me in the stomach, grabbed his wand, Disarmed the bloke holding mine, and Disapparated. I didn't do it so well, Splinched myself again—" he held up his right hand to show two missing fingernails, and Hermione raised her eyebrows coldly "—and I came out miles from where you were. By the time I got back to that bit of riverbank where we'd been . . . you'd gone."

"Gosh, what a gripping story," Hermione said. "You must have been simplyterrified. Meanwhile we went to Godric's Hollow and, let's think, what happened there, Harry and Venus? Oh yes, You-Know-Who's snake turned up, it nearly killed the three of us, and then You-Know-Who himself arrived and missed us by about a second."

Ron gaped from her to Venus to Harry. "What?"

Hermione ignored them. "Imagine losing fingernails, Harry! That really puts our sufferings into perspective, doesn't it?"

"Hermione, Ron just saved my life," Harry admitted.

Venus' head whipped over to him. "Huh?"

Hermione appeared not to have heard him. "One thing I would like to know, though. 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 jean pocket. "This."

"The Deluminator?"

"It doesn't just turn the lights on and off. 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 Penelope."

Penelope Lestrange. Ron's girlfriend.

"On the radio, you mean?" Venus asked.

"No, I heard her coming out of my pocket," Ron revealed. "Her voice—" he held up the Deluminator "—came out of this."

"And what exactly did she say?" Hermione questioned.

"My name. Ron. And then I hope you're okay, wherever you are. It reminded me of what Venus had said how she wouldn't agree with me leaving. So I took it out and and it didn't seem different or anything, but I was sure I'd heard her. So I clicked it. And the light went out in my room, but another light appeared right outside the window." He raised an empty hand and pointed in front of him. "It was a ball of light, kind of pulsing, and bluish, like that light you get around a Portkey, you know?"

"Yeah," Venus, Harry, and Hermione chorused.

"I knew this was it," Ron continued. "I had to go back. Not just for her, but for you guys. I grabbed my stuff and packed it, then I put on my rucksack and went out into the garden. The little ball of light was hovering there, waiting for me, and when I came out it bobbed along a bit and I followed it behind the shed and then it . . . well, it went inside me."

"Sorry?" Harry inquired.

He illustrated the movement with his pointer finger. "It sort of floated toward me, right to my chest, and then — it just went straight through. It was here—" he touched a point close to his heart "—I could feel it, it was hot. And once it was inside me I knew what I was supposed to do, I knew it would take me where I needed to go. So I Disapparated and came out on the side of a hill. There was snow everywhere . . ."

"We were there. We spent two nights there, and the second night I kept thinking I could hear someone moving aroundin the dark and calling out!"

"Yeah, well, that would've been me. Your protective spells work, anyway, because I couldn't see you and I couldn't hear you. I was sure you were around, though, so in the end I got in my sleeping bag and waited for one of you to appear. I thought you'd have to show yourselves when you packed up the tent."

"No, actually," Hermione stated. "We've been Disapparating under the Invisibility Cloak as an extra precaution. And we left really early, because, as Harry says, we'd heard somebody blundering around."

"Well, I stayed on that hill all day," Ron voiced. "I kept hoping you'd appear. But when it started to get dark I knew I must have missed you, so I clicked the Deluminator again, the blue light came out and went inside me, and I Disapparated and arrived here in thes ewoods. I still couldn't see you, so I just had to hope one of you would show yourselves in the end — and Harry did. Well, I saw the doe first, obviously."

"Doe?" Venus repeated. "What doe?"

Harry then started to explain. While on watch, Harry had seen a silver doe. He had decided to follow it and stumbled across a pool of water. At the bottom there was the sword of Gryffindor. He had dove in to get it, but the Horcrux had started to choke him.

"But it must have been a Patronus!" Hermione exclaimed. "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 then told them how he had watched Harry jump into the pool and waited for him to resurface. However, when Harry didn't resurface, he realized something was wrong. He dived in after Harry, saved him, and then returned for the sword. Ron hesitated when he got to the opening of Slytherin's locket.

"—and Ron stabbed it with the sword," Harry finished.

"So that's it?" Venus questioned. "It went? Just that easily?"

"Well, it — it screamed. Here."

He handed her the locket. She took it and examined its broken state, her eyebrows knit in thought. Venus then handed it to Hermione.

Harry removed the Shield Charm with a wave of Hermione's wand and turned to Ron. "Did you just say you got away from the Snatchers with a sparewand?"

"What?" Ron said. "Oh — oh yeah." He tugged open a buckle on his rucksack and pulled a short, dark wand out of its pocket. "Here. I figured it's always handy to have a backup."

Harry held out his hand. "Mine's broken."

"You're kidding?"

At that moment, Hermione got to her feet. Ron looked apprehensive again. Hermione put the destroyed Horcrux into her beaded bag before climbing back into her bed and not saying another word.

Venus stared at her for a moment before looking back at Ron. "She was in the right for punching you, by the way."

She then walked to her bed to get back in bed, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

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I go back to school soon and like what the fuck