Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the remaining afternoon with Ginny, Neville and Luna at the Three Broomsticks until it was time for them to head back up to Hogwarts. Ginny gave Harry a very enthusiastic good-bye, which made Ron quite uncomfortable.
Harry walked the three of them back to the Hogwarts gates under the Invisibility Cloak and then made his way back to the Three Broomsticks. He found Ron and Hermione at a small table in the corner of the deserted pub, talking quietly, their brows furrowed.
As he walked towards them, he couldn’t help but smell a strange odour emanating from somewhere nearby “ a goat-like odour. He turned around on the spot in an effort to find the source of the smell, but he saw nothing. He shrugged it off as a figment of his imagination, turned back around and continued on towards Ron and Hermione.
From the looks on both Ron and Hermione’s faces, Harry was quite sure that whatever they were discussing, they were not seeing eye-to-eye… as usual.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked mock-casually once he reached them.
“Ron, will you please tell Harry what you just told me?” Hermione said, clearly exasperated and looking to Harry for support.
“Well,” Ron began a bit uncertainly, “I just think it’s a bit odd that we were attacked after Bill’s wedding and at Godric’s Hollow, and that both times, well… we weren’t exactly careful about who we let get close to us.”
“What?” asked Harry, thoroughly confused. “You think that someone close to us is a spy?”
“Well… I don’t know, I just….”
“You don’t think Lupin told anyone that we were going to Godric’s Hollow?”
“No, not for a second… but it’s just….”
“He thinks that Viktor somehow had something to do with this,” said Hermione, folding her arms across her chest and looking utterly furious.
“Just hear me out, Harry,” Ron said before either Harry or Hermione could say anything else. “Krum’s a Durmstrang and he was taught by Karkaroff, who we know was a Death Eater. We know he was at the wedding, and plus… plus, he could be jealous of you, Harry, or something.”
“You really do have a way with words, Ron,” began Hermione sarcastically before Harry could respond. “First of all, Viktor had no idea that we were staying at the Burrow the night after Bill’s wedding, and secondly, he wasn’t anywhere near Godric’s Hollow last night, which makes him one of the least likely candidates if there is a spy.”
Harry agreed completely with Hermione, but wasn’t quick to jump on her side owing to the fact that Ron didn’t look too happy at the moment.
“He could have taken Polyjuice Potion,” Ron said quickly. “He could have been at the Inn when we first got there.”
Hermione let out a deep, frustrated sigh.
“So you think that Viktor Krum took Polyjuice Potion last night and then sat in the tea room of the Godric’s Hollow Inn just on the off-chance that we might show up?”
Ron hesitated for a moment.
“Yeah….”
“That is by far the dumbest thing I-”
“Why don’t I get something for us to eat?” interrupted Harry, looking between his two friends as they glared at each other.
“No, Harry, I’ll do it,” Hermione said at once, standing up and walking off into the back room to find Madam Rosmerta.
“Why did you have to go and do that?” asked Harry, once Hermione was out of earshot.
“Do what?” Ron replied defensively.
Harry’s only reply to this was a raise of his eyebrows.
“Well, all right, I may have said a few things about Krum that might have upset her, but nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, there’s just something about him….”
“I know what you mean, mate, but Hermione trusts him and I trust Hermione. Besides, it could have been anyone at the wedding who tipped off the Death Eaters, or, come to think of it, someone could have seen me leaving Privet Drive with you and then just assumed that we’d be going to the Burrow,” Harry said, trying his best to reason with Ron.
“Yeah… yeah, I suppose so,” Ron mumbled in return.
Hermione soon returned with Madam Rosmerta not far behind, carrying a tray of food for the three of them.
“There you go, you three,” she said, handing each of them a bowl of warm soup. “And don’t worry, not a soul will know that you’re here.”
Harry smiled at her and nodded in thanks. Madam Rosmerta reached across the table to give Ron his bowl of soup, inadvertently giving him a clear view down her shirt. To Harry’s dismay, Ron saw this and accidentally spat out some of his pumpkin juice right down her chest.
She jumped back quickly, but did not appear to be mad, although, Harry did notice that she gave him a much smaller slice of bread compared to his own or Hermione’s.
“Classy,” said Hermione derisively once Madam Rosmerta was out of earshot.
Ron scowled at her, and they ate in a stony silence.
Harry had sincerely hoped that, after the events of Dumbledore’s funeral, Ron and Hermione would finally realise how they felt about one another. However, he had been sorely mistaken.
And yet, once again, Harry was sure that, after Ron had made the effort of getting Hermione that birthday present, that then, the two of them would at least act little more civilised towards one another, and once again, Harry couldn’t have been more wrong. Ginny thought that because they both, Ron and Hermione, realised they had feelings for each other, they weren’t quite sure how to react, and so they fell back to what felt most normal: bickering endlessly.
Harry finished his dinner before Ron and Hermione and excused himself before making his way upstairs to the room they were staying in for the night.
Maybe they’ll work it out on their own, he thought.
Harry entered the room and was about to change into his bedclothes when he heard a soft hoot from the top of the wardrobe.
“Hedwig!” Harry cried softly, rushing over as his owl glided down to him. “Did you find us okay?"
Hedwig hooted again in response and gently nipped Harry’s finger, which he took as a “yes”.
With one more appreciative hoot, Hedwig flew back up to the top of the wardrobe.
Harry changed into his bedclothes, climbed into his bed and was nearly asleep when he heard Ron and Hermione enter the room quietly.
“I suppose we were really bothering him,” whispered Hermione, walking over to Harry to check if he was asleep. Harry closed his eyes tightly and pretended to be so “ he really did not want to talk to either of them right then.
“Yeah, I reckon it was my fault,” Ron answered quietly.
Harry waited for Hermione to say “obviously” but strangely enough, she didn’t.
“I was a bit of a prat, though,” Ron began awkwardly. “I mean, if you trust… Krum, then that’s…. Well, that’s good enough for me.”
Harry smiled to himself…. Now that they were back on speaking terms, he might be able to get some sleep. He turned on his side, facing away from them, and was about to fall into a deep sleep when, again, he heard Hermione’s voice.
“Ron… what happened the last few weeks of last term?”
Harry’s eyes snapped open. As much as he wanted Ron and Hermione to get along well, he really did not want to hear them discuss what he was afraid they were about to discuss. As far as Harry was concerned, listening to them have conversations like this was a bit… creepy.
“Wha- um, what do you mean?” said Ron, sounding anxious.
“The last few weeks last year… you… you know what I mean,” Hermione answered, though Harry didn’t think even she knew exactly what she meant. There was a part of him that did not want to hear any of this, but the other part wanted to take in every word.
“I… well… well, I was much happier when I broke up with Lavender,” said Ron, evidently trying to feel his way through the conversation. It did not sound, however, like he was enjoying it. There was a flash of lightning outside and a rumble of thunder.
“Why?” Hermione asked, but Harry was sure she knew the answer.
“Well, she was really annoying,” Ron answered matter-of-factly.
“That’s… that’s the only reason?”
“Well, no… I, well… I…. Ever since third year, really, I….”
Hedwig hooted loudly, and Harry heard both Ron and Hermione gasp in surprise.
Harry chose this moment to turn back over on his other side, pretending to have just woken up. Ron was standing on one side of the room, a stark white expression on his face, and Hermione on the other, her hands clutching the bedside table so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
“Harry!” said Ron, obviously startled. “When did Hedwig…. How long were you awake?”
“I just woke up,” Harry lied. “What are you guys talking about?”
He almost let a small smile cross his face, but he was able to suppress it.
“Nothing,” they both said in unison.
“Oh, well, do you want me to leave the room so you can finish talking about nothing?” asked Harry, now rather enjoying himself.
Hermione shook her head sleepily, and Ron frowned slightly before finally shaking his head too.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m knackered anyway,” said Ron, grabbing his toothbrush and walking into the bathroom.
Hermione remained motionless until Ron closed the bathroom door, a triumphant smile crossing her face.
* * *
“Anyone we know died?” asked Ron, taking a bite of toast at breakfast the next morning.
“No, no one… just a bit about two young kids impersonating Dementors in Devonshire last night,” Hermione answered sleepily. “Oh, wait…. Oh my, look at this!”
Hermione spread out the Prophet so that Harry and Ron could see.
“The attacks are getting worse,” said Hermione worriedly, looking up from the paper and at Harry.
“We have to find the remaining Horcruxes,” whispered Harry, his anger rising.
Gawain Robards was just another person whom he, Harry, was responsible for killing. He had to destroy the Horcruxes; he had to kill Voldemort.
“Don’t blame yourself, mate,” said Ron, clapping Harry on his back and taking another bite of toast. “So, where are we off to next?”
In truth, Harry really had no idea where to start next. He knew that there were three remaining Horcruxes, and he knew that Nagini would have to be the last one that they went after “ leaving Hufflepuff’s Cup and something of Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s.
“We need to find as much information as we can about Helga Hufflepuff.”
* * *
Harry, Ron and Hermione spent much of the next two weeks researching Helga Hufflepuff using library books from Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had coaxed Madam Pince, though Harry did not know how, into allowing them to take books that they thought they might need out of the castle. They were staying in the same cave that Sirius had stayed in during their fourth year, although, as Ron pointed out happily, they did not have to live off of rats.
Harry had briefly considered visiting Dumbledore’s portrait again, but he was sure that if Dumbledore had any ideas about Hufflepuff’s Cup then he would have voiced them to Harry long ago.
Though Hermione thoroughly enjoyed the two weeks of nearly constant research, it yielded almost no results. Harry had finally resigned himself to the fact that there was no accurate record of Helga Hufflepuff, except basic information found in textbooks, which were of little help anyway. There was no mention of her life after or before Hogwarts, and Harry was starting to get frustrated.
The small bit of information that they did have was that, according to the Sorting Hat, Helga Hufflepuff was from “valley broad.” This did little good, however, as Ron pointed out, because “valley broad” could be anywhere across the country.
Hermione thought that Helgy, as Ron now so affectionately called her, could have been from Wales, but again, “valley broad” could mean anywhere.
Harry was sure that if they could have found something about Hufflepuff then they could have located the Cup. He finally gave up this idea and decided to start tracking the Cup from where he last glimpsed it, Hepzibah Smith’s house.
There was one chiefly important problem in this, as Ron once again pointed out, they had no idea where Hepzibah Smith lived. They had even gone up to the castle, under the Invisibility Cloak, of course, on numerous occasions to ask Professor McGonagall if she ever remembered a Hepzibah Smith at Hogwarts, but she didn’t. It seemed that, as was the same with Helga Hufflepuff, there was no record of Hepzibah Smith ever existing, apart from the memory in Dumbledore’s Pensieve.
This had led to Harry’s next idea: revisit Dumbledore’s Pensieve. When he, Ron and Hermione had time to return to Dumbledore’s Office, however, Professor McGonagall regretfully informed them that the Pensieve had disappeared the night Dumbledore was killed… no one knew where it was.
This dead end cost them another two weeks of painstaking research in which they sifted through almost every book in the Hogwarts library “ with little results. Soon, even Hermione became fed up with what the library had to offer.
“Oh, this is so stupid!” she said, snapping a book shut on one particularly cold mid-October morning. “We’re never going to find where Hepzibah Smith lived; we might as well start looking for another Horcrux.”
She seemed very frustrated, but then again, it was rare that books failed her.
“No, we’re going after the Cup,” Harry answered, with a touch of finality in his voice.
“But Harry…” Hermione began, sounding slightly alarmed.
“Don’t worry about it,” he answered, “we’ll find something somewhere, I know it. Ron, are you okay?”
Ron had been staring wistfully out of the cave entrance, down to the village below.
“Huh… oh, well, I was just thinking that since today is a Hogsmeade weekend….”
Within a few minutes, Harry, Ron and Hermione were under the Invisibility Cloak and prepared to set off down to the village.
Hermione did not argue about taking a break, and Ron looked positively giddy at the prospect of leaving the cave. Harry, who had not seen Ginny since they first came to Hogsmeade nearly a month ago, couldn’t have been happier.
They made their way down the mountain under the Invisibility Cloak and into the village where they spotted Ginny, walking along the road alone, seemingly hoping that Harry, Ron and Hermione would come down to Hogsmeade.
“Ginny, under here,” Harry whispered once they were near enough to her.
She jumped in surprise, looked around to make sure no one was watching and then ducked underneath the Cloak, squeezing Ron between Harry and Hermione.
“Ouch, Ron… stop stepping on my feet!” hissed Hermione.
“I wouldn’t have if Ginny hadn’t squeezed under here,” said Ron, his voice slightly muffled. “Eugh, stop it, Harry, your bum’s rubbing up against me.”
“You know in some cultures that’s a sign of affection, Ron,” quipped Ginny before kissing Harry soundly.
“Oh, piss off.”
* * *
They spent the afternoon walking up and down the High Street, browsing in the shops as they passed them. Harry and Ginny even enjoyed a few furtive kisses while still under the Cloak, leaving Hermione slightly irritated and Ron thoroughly disgusted.
As they walked back towards the Three Broomsticks where they were to have dinner, they heard a voice from somewhere beside them.
“Aren’t you all a little old to be running around in a cape,” said the voice to their right.
Harry looked up and saw a grumpy-looking man, tall and thin, with a long beard and glasses, who smelled slightly like a goat.
“Are you…?”
“Come on,” the man whispered, leading the four of them down the High Street.
“Who is he?” whispered Ron to Harry.
“My name is Aberforth Dumbledore,” said the man, not turning around, “and I have something that might interest you.”
They followed in silence, each of them giving the others alarmed looks.
“How can he see us?” Ron whispered, this time much quieter so that Aberforth couldn’t hear.
Aberforth, however, answered, “I can’t… but I did know that you were here. Besides, you’re not exactly the quietest bunch I’ve ever met, and incidentally, I have very good hearing.”
They followed in silence until they reached the Hog’s Head, where they were ushered inside by Aberforth.
When Harry saw that there was no one else in the pub, he threw off the Cloak and pulled his wand on Aberforth before the door was closed. Ron, Hermione and Ginny quickly followed suit.
Aberforth took one look and then raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
“Put those away before you take someone’s eye out,” he said, walking over to the bar and pulling out five rather dirty glasses.
“S’butterbeer all right?” Aberforth asked, not looking at anyone in particular.
“Actually, a nice glass of Firewhisky…” Ron began, but he fell silent with one scathing look from Hermione.
“That would be fine,” Harry answered warily, still clutching his wand, not quite sure whether or not he could trust Aberforth just yet.
“You can put that away,” Aberforth said again, filling each glass with Butterbeer.
“Not just yet,” Harry answered cautiously.
“Suit yourself…. Now, if you’d all have a seat, I’ll get on with why you’re here.”
The four of them complied, and each took a seat at a dusty barstool, looking expectantly at Aberforth.
“I’ve been watching you,” he began, taking out another glass and absentmindedly wiping it with a dirty rag. “I’ve been watching you for a good while now, and you’re going about this all wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Harry quickly, staring fixedly at Aberforth.
“I’m talking about what you’re looking for.”
“How do you about the…” Ron began, but he was silenced by a warning look from Hermione.
“I don’t know “ about anything “ so I’d advise you to keep quiet. All I know is what my brother told me the night he left.”
“You mean, before he left with… with me?” Harry asked awkwardly.
“That’s right. He came down here, late afternoon, and told me that he and you were going to set out to destroy Lord Voldemort. He told me to keep an eye on the village and that, if anything happened to him, I was to tell you a few things.”
Harry sat at the dingy bar with his mouth half open, staring at Dumbledore’s brother.
“Sir, why didn’t you say anything earlier?” asked Hermione timidly.
“There’s no need to call me sir, Ms. Granger. Especially seeing as you probably have more brains in your thumb than I’ve got in my entire body,” Aberforth answered, smiling to himself.
Harry was sure that Aberforth was flattering her, but he earned a little respect for him nonetheless.
“And to answer your question, I was asked, by Albus, not to interfere with you if I could help it. It was my job to keep an eye on you if you came up here to Hogsmeade, which Albus was sure you would.”
“Now, as I was saying, you’re going about this all wrong. Albus told me that if it looked liked you were getting stuck “ and by the way you lot looked the other night at the Three Broomsticks it looked like you were pretty stuck “ to change directions.”
Harry looked between Ron, Hermione and Ginny before turning back to Aberforth.
“What do you mean change directions?”
“Albus told me was that if you were getting stuck, change directions and focus more on Voldemort himself, and not… well, not on whatever the hell else you lot are apparently focusing on “ Helga Hufflepuff, from what I could hear,” replied Aberforth, sounding slightly annoyed now.
Harry thought about this for a minute before reaching a very profound conclusion: that that did not make any sense at all.
Why should he focus on Voldemort? Shouldn’t he be focused on the Horcruxes?
Then it hit him almost immediately. Dumbledore didn’t find the locket’s hiding place by researching Slytherin and where the locket originated. Dumbledore found the locket by finding as much information as he could about Voldemort. Voldemort was going to hide the Horcruxes in places that he held sacred, not in places Salazar Slytherin or Helga Hufflepuff held sacred.
“You still alive, boy?” asked Aberforth, looking into Harry’s eyes. “I’m not sure how much that helps, but it’s the best I’ve got.”
“No, no, that helps loads,” Harry said, taking a sip of his Butterbeer. “Have you been in contact with all of the Order, then?”
He was really starting to warm up to Aberforth.
“Mostly,” Aberforth grunted in reply. “Tonks’ll come ‘round once in a while, as will Hagrid, but other than that, my job is to report to McGonagall if I see anything suspicious in the village. Always liked her though “ McGonagall, that is. Not as much as old Albus did though; he tried to get her in the sack more times than I can count.”
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all ducked their heads in embarrassment as Aberforth muttered an apology.
“Sorry ‘bout that… didn’t mean to let that one slip.”
Harry was quite sure, however, that Aberforth did mean to let that one slip.
“I’ve also been in contact with your mother,” Aberforth continued, indicating Ron and Ginny. “She’s um… well, she’s a right bit annoying actually, but she’s been a little worried, so I made up some story about running into you lot the other day, and I told her that you were safe.”
Ron and Ginny turned slightly red and bowed their heads in embarrassment.
“Now, if you lot would rather stay here tonight, you’d be more than welcome. I’m thinkin’ it’s a bit more comfy than that cove of yours.”
“Oh, that would be great,” Hermione said with a smile.
Ron, however, gave Harry a quizzical look and then whispered, “Are you sure we can trust him?”
“You can trust me, Mr. Weasley,” Aberforth answered simply.
“You know, we don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to, Ron,” Harry said, giving Hermione and Ginny a very quick wink. “But I did see a couple of spiders in the cave last night… big ones.”
“You know,” Ron said at once, nearly knocking over his Butterbeer, his voice a little higher than usual, “on second thought, it might not be a bad idea to stay here for the night.”