(Y/N)'s POV

"But there's no mention of the words 'Deathly Hallows' in the story," said Hermione. "Well, of course not," said Xenophilius, maddeningly smug.

"That is a children's tale, told to amuse rather than to instruct. Those of us who understand these matters, however, recognise that the ancient story refers to three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death."

"What does being 'master of death' entail exactly, like immortality?" I asked, suddenly more interested in antique hunting, he waved it off. "Don't be preposterous, such a concept is impossible in any sense-" I expected him to explain more but he paused abruptly.

There was a short silence in which Xenophilius glanced out of the window. Already the sun was low in the sky. "Luna ought to have enough Plimpies soon," he said quietly. "When you say 'master of Death' —" said Ron.

"Master," said Xenophilius, waving an airy hand. "Conqueror. Vanquisher. Whichever term you prefer." "But then . . . do you mean . . ." said Hermione slowly "that you believe these objects — these Hallows — actually exist?"

Xenophilius raised his eyebrows again. "Well, of course." "But" said Hermione, sounding unimpressed, "Mr. Lovegood, how can you possibly believe — ?" "Luna has told me all about you, young lady," said Xenophilius.

"You are, I gather, not unintelligent, but painfully limited. Narrow. Close-minded." "Well. That's a matter of perspective," I defended, she looked to me and pursed her lips. "There's a difference between rationality and close mindedness" He looked to me, still sounding smug, "Is there?"

"Perhaps you ought to try on the hat, Hermione," said Ron, nodding toward the ludicrous headdress. His voice shook with the strain of not laughing. I giggled at the image of her wearing that monstrosity, her helmet hair would be mental.

"Mr. Lovegood," Hermione began again. "We all know that there are such things as Invisibility Cloaks. They are rare, but they exist. But —" "Ah, but the Third Hallow is a true Cloak of Invisibility, Miss Granger!"

"I mean to say, it is not a travelling cloak imbued with a Disillusionment Charm, or carrying a Bedazzling Hex, or else woven from Demiguise hair, which will hide one initially but fade with the years until it turns opaque."

"We are talking about a cloak that really and truly renders the wearer completely invisible, and endures eternally, giving constant and impenetrable concealment, no matter what spells are cast at it. How many cloaks have you ever seen like that, Miss Granger?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again, looking more confused than ever. "Exactly," said Xenophilius, as if he had defeated us all in reasoned argument. "None of you have ever seen such a thing. The possessor would be immeasurably rich, would he not?"

"Well, he's not wrong" I scoffed as Ron elbowed me to keep me quiet. Mr. Lovegood glanced out of the window again. The sky was now tinged with the faintest trace of pink. "All right," said Hermione, disconcerted.

"Say the Cloak existed . . . what about the stone, Mr. Lovegood? The thing you call the Resurrection Stone?" "What of it?" "Well, how can that be real?" "Prove that it is not," said Xenophilius. Hermione looked outraged.

"But that's — I'm sorry, but that's completely ridiculous! How can I possibly prove it doesn't exist? Do you expect me to get hold of — of all the pebbles in the world and test them? I mean, you could claim that anything's real if the only basis for believing in it is that nobody's proved it doesn't exist!"

"Yes, you could," said Xenophilius. "I am glad to see that you are opening your mind a little." "So, the Elder Wand," said Harry quickly, before Hermione could retort, "you think that exists too?" "Oh, well, in that case there is endless evidence," said Xenophilius.

"The Elder Wand is the Hallow that is most easily traced, because of the way in which it passes from hand to hand." "Which is what?" asked Harry. "Which is that the possessor of the wand must capture it from its previous owner, if he is to be truly master of it," said Xenophilius.

"Surely you have heard of the way the wand came to Egbert the Egregious, after his slaughter of Emeric the Evil? Of how Godelot died in his own cellar after his son, Hereward, took the wand from him?"

"Of the dreadful Loxias, who took the wand from Barnabas Deverill, whom he had killed? The bloody trail of the Elder Wand is splattered across the pages of Wizarding history."

"Awesome" I smirked, Xenophilius gave a nod of his head, "So where do you think the Elder Wand is now?" asked Ron. "Alas, who knows?" said Xenophilius, as he gazed out of the window.

"Who knows where the Elder Wand lies hidden? The trail goes cold with Arcus and Livius. Who can say which of them really defeated Loxias, and which took the wand? And who can say who may have defeated them? History, alas, does not tell us." There was a pause.

Finally, Hermione asked stiffly, "Mr. Lovegood, does the Peverell family have anything to do with the Deathly Hallows?" Xenophilius looked taken aback. "But you have been misleading me, young woman!" said Xenophilius.

He was now sitting up much straighter in his chair and goggling at Hermione. "I thought you were new to the Hallows Quest! Many of us Questers believe that the Peverells have everything — everything! — to do with the Hallows!"

"Who are the Peverells?" asked Ron. "That was the name on the grave with the mark on it, in Godric's Hollow," said Hermione, still watching Xenophilius. "Ignotus Peverell." "Exactly!" said Xenophilius, his forefinger raised pedantically.

"The sign of the Deathly Hallows on Ignotus's grave is conclusive proof!" "Of what?" asked Ron. "Why, that the three brothers in the story were the three Peverell brothers, Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus! That they were the original owners of the Hallows!"

With another glance at the window he got to his feet, picked up the tray, and headed for the spiral staircase. "You will stay for dinner?" he called, as he vanished downstairs again. "Everybody always requests our recipe for Freshwater Plimpy soup."

"Probably to show the Poisoning Department at St. Mungo's," said Ron under his breath. Harry began speaking a few seconds after he left. "What do you think?" he asked Hermione.

"Oh, Harry," she said wearily, "it's a pile of utter rubbish. This can't be what the sign really means. This must just be his weird take on it. What a waste of time." "I s'pose this is the man who brought us Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," said Ron.

"I believe it, like he said, loads have people have hunted the wand throughout history, there is no way all of them were as mental as Lovegood is, some of them were proper famous, so I don't think they'd go hunting fairy tales without proof"

"But that's just the wand though isn't it, not the other two" countered Ron, "Well, in case you haven't realised Ron, we have one of them not ten feet from us! So, a stone that brings people back from the dead isn't really that hard to believe."

I was pretty passionate about this, maybe it was childish, but it gave me hope that I could find something that I've been searching for far longer than any horcrux, maybe I just needed to believe it was real.

"You don't believe it either?" Harry asked him. "Nah, that story's just one of those things you tell kids to teach them lessons, isn't it?"

"'Don't go looking for trouble, don't pick fights, don't go messing around with stuff that's best left alone! Just keep your head down, mind your own business, and you'll be okay' Come to think of it," "maybe that story's why elder wands are supposed to be unlucky."

"What are you talking about?" "One of those superstitions, isn't it? 'May-born witches will marry Muggles.' 'Jinx by twilight, undone by midnight.' 'Wand of elder, never prosper.' You must've heard them. My mum's full of them."

"Harry and I were raised by Muggles," Hermione reminded him. "We were taught different superstitions." "I didn't hear none of that growing up either, but my Mum wasn't very superstitious."

"I think you're right," she told him. "It's just a morality tale, it's obvious which gift is best, which one you'd choose —" The three of them spoke at the same time; Hermione said, "the Cloak," Ron said, "the wand," and Harry said, "the stone."

They all looked at me, "Mate, if some bloke claiming to be Death itself appeared out of nowhere and tried handing me a gift, I'm off home" I said, holding up my hands with a chuckle, but given the choice, It'd be a toss up to be honest, they were all pretty cool

They looked at each other, half surprised, half amused. "You're supposed to say the Cloak," Ron told Hermione, "but you wouldn't need to be invisible if you had the wand. An unbeatable wand, Hermione, come on!"

"We've already got an Invisibility Cloak," said Harry. "And it's helped us rather a lot, in case you hadn't noticed!" said Hermione. "Whereas the wand would be bound to attract trouble —"

"Only if you shouted about it," argued Ron. "Only if you were prat enough to go dancing around, waving it over your head, and singing, 'I've got an unbeatable wand, come and have a go if you think you're hard enough.' As long as you kept your trap shut —"

"Yes, but could you keep your trap shut?" said Hermione, looking sceptical. "Of course he could" I clapped him on the back, "Until he meets a pretty girl and wants to start bragging" He scowled at me.

"What was it you said to that Veela bird? 'I'm the most powerful Legilimens to ever exist'" he looked at me even smugger than Mr. Lovegood had. "Well, it's not really bragging if it's true, it's being honest."

Hermione looked at me confused, "No...no, that's not how that works" I shrugged, and she got back on track. "You know, the only true thing he said to us was that there have been stories about extra-powerful wands for hundreds of years."

"There have?" asked Harry. "The Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, they crop up under different names through the centuries, usually in the possession of some Dark wizard who's boasting about them."

"The Deathstick....that's brilliant!" I said, falling back into a pile of Quibblers and laughing heartily. "Professor Binns mentioned some of them, but — oh, it's all nonsense."

"Wands are only as powerful as the wizards who use them. Some wizards just like to boast that theirs are bigger and better than other peoples."

"Well, I can attes-" she shot me a look before I could finish that forced me to hang my head in shame. "But how do you know," said Harry, "that those wands — the Deathstick and the Wand of Destiny — aren't the same wand, surfacing over the centuries under different names?"

"What, and they're all really the Elder Wand, made by Death?" said Ron. "So why would you take the stone?" Ron asked him. "Well, if you could bring people back, we could have Sirius . . . Mad-Eye . . . Dumbledore . . . my parents. . . ."

Neither Ron nor Hermione smiled. "But according to Beedle the Bard, they wouldn't want to come back, would they?" said Harry, thinking about the tale they had just heard. There was a tense silence.

He looked sad at that thought, so I said, "Well, you never know, maybe the girl that came back in the story was just a moany cow." He scoffed, "I don't suppose there have been loads of other stories about a stone that can raise the dead, have there?" he asked Hermione. "No," she replied sadly.

"I don't think anyone except Mr. Lovegood could kid themselves that's possible. Beedle probably took the idea from the Sorcerer's Stone; you know, instead of a stone to make you immortal, a stone to reverse death."

"What about the Cloak, though?" said Ron slowly. "Don't you realise, he's right? I've got so used to Harry's Cloak and how good it is, I never stopped to think. I've never heard of one like Harry's. It's infallible. We've never been spotted under it —"

"Of course not — we're invisible when we're under it, Ron!" "But all the stuff he said about other cloaks, and they're not exactly ten a Knut, you know, is true!"

"It's never occurred to me before, but I've heard stuff about charms wearing off cloaks when they get old, or them being ripped apart by spells so they've got holes in. Harry's was owned by his dad, so it's not exactly new, is it, but it's just . . . perfect!"

"Yes, all right, but Ron, the stone . . ." As they argued in whispers, I spent a few seconds revelling in the nostalgia of their arguments, I had missed them in a weird way, I turned to look at Harry but he was out of the room and halfway up a flight of stairs.

"Nosy git" then I followed him because I am a hypocrite as well as a nosy git. Hermione called out to us, "What are you doing? I don't think you should look around when he's not here!" Upon reaching the room Harry was stood in, I was dumbstruck.

Luna had decorated her bedroom ceiling with six beautifully painted faces: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and me. They were not moving as the portraits at Hogwarts moved, but there was a certain magic about them all the same.

What appeared to be fine golden chains wove around the pictures, linking them together, it was one word, repeated a thousand times in golden ink: friends . . . friends . . . friends . . . the sight brought tears to my eyes.

There was a large photograph beside the bed, of a young Luna and a woman who looked like her. They were hugging. Luna looked much better groomed and more put together in the photo, much more normal.

Next to it was something that made my heart swell, the picture Colin took in the Hogsmeade station, placed in a frame surrounded by the same words as her wall. Friends. But something felt strange, the room was cold, too cold.

I looked around, my worries increasing as I did. Taking a closer look at things, I noticed things I had overlooked before. Both pictures were dusty. The pale blue carpet was also thick with dust. There were no clothes in the wardrobe, whose doors stood ajar.

The bed had a cold, unfriendly look, as though it had not been slept in for weeks. A single cobweb stretched over the nearest window, across a blood red sky.

I looked to Harry, who nodded as if to confirm my deepest fear, Luna wasn't living here, she hadn't for a while. So where had she been sleeping? Even if she had chosen to stay at Hogwarts, why was her room in such disarray?

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked as we descended the staircase, I shook my head and put my hand on my wand, prompting her to do the same. Xenophilius reached the top of the stairs from the kitchen, now holding a tray laden with bowls.

"Mr. Lovegood," said Harry. "Where's Luna?" "Excuse me?" "Where's Luna?" Xenophilius halted on the top step. "I — I've already told you. She is down at Bottom Bridge, fishing for Plimpies."

"So why have you only laid that tray for five?" I said before he could retort, I had only just noticed, it was a simple mistake, it would have slipped his mind to make one for a guest who wasn't present. Xenophilius tried to speak, but no sound came out.

I noticed something else, "Where's the owl Mr. Lovegood?" he stuttered, "It was on your shoulder until you went outside. Where's it gone?" He didn't move or speak.

The only noise was the continued chugging of the printing press, and a slight rattle from the tray as Xenophilius's hands shook. "I don't think Luna's been here for weeks," said Harry.

"Her clothes are gone; her bed hasn't been slept in. Where is she? And why do you keep looking out of the window?" Xenophilius dropped the tray: The bowls bounced and smashed. "Immobulus!" I hit him square in the chest.

Harry and Ron drew their wands: Xenophilius was moving in slow motion, his hand about to enter his pocket. As we pointed our wands at Xenophilius, Hermione picked up the newest edition of the Quibbler.

"Look at this." She sighed. The front of The Quibbler carried Harry's picture, emblazoned with the words Undesirable Number One, and captioned with the reward money. I disarmed him and undid the spell.

"The Quibbler's going for a new angle, then?" Harry asked coldly, "Is that what you were doing when you went into the garden, Mr. Lovegood? Sending an owl to the Ministry?" Xenophilius licked his lips. "They took my Luna," he whispered.

My heart sank at the words. "Because of what I've been writing. They took my Luna and I don't know where she is, what they've done to her. But they might give her back to me if I — if I —" "Hand over Harry?" Hermione finished for him.

"No deal," said Ron flatly. "Get out of the way, we're leaving." Xenophilius looked ghastly, a century old, his lips drawn back into a dreadful leer. "They will be here at any moment. I must save Luna. I cannot lose Luna. You must not leave."

"Don't make us hurt you," Harry said. "Get out of the way, Mr. Lovegood." "Xenophilius, don't do this. Please, she wouldn't want this." I begged. "HARRY! (Y/N)!" Hermione screamed. She pointed to figures on broomsticks flying past the windows.

Forgetting all about Mr Lovegood, I stepped forward, but I realised my mistake a second too late, as I looked away, the wand I had taken was snatched from my hand. Harry was the only one of us to notice.

He launched himself sideways, shoving Ron, Hermione, and I out of harm's way as Xenophilius's Stunning Spell soared across the room and hit the Erumpent horn. There was a colossal explosion.

The sound of it seemed to blow the room apart: Fragments of wood and paper and rubble flew in all directions, along with an impenetrable cloud of thick white dust.

Harry flew through the air, I flew in the same direction, my back hitting the wall of the tower and before I could gasp in pain, rubble began hitting me.

I heard Hermione's scream, Ron's yell, and a series of sickening metallic thuds, which told me that Xenophilius had been blasted off his feet and fallen backward down the spiral stairs. Serves the git right.

My limbs were pinned down by rubble, the roof underneath me had caved in, just my luck. My wand was still in my hand but was forced against my chest, knowing I had no other option, I simply braced myself for how much this was going to hurt.

"Bom...barda" the rubble was sent out, rushing forward like a tidal wave, freeing my body, but sending dust everywhere and burning my chest, I hated getting burnt, it didn't hurt very much, it stung, and that was worse in my opinion. Regardless, I looked around, ignoring my pain.

Half of the ceiling had fallen in, and the end of Luna's bed was hanging through the hole, fragments of torn parchment were floating through the air, and most of the printing press lay on its side, blocking the top of the staircase to the kitchen.

Hermione, coated in dust like a second statue, pressed her finger to her lips. The door downstairs crashed open. "Didn't I tell you there was no need to hurry, Travers?" said a rough voice.

"Didn't I tell you this nutter was just raving as usual?" There was a bang and a scream of pain from Xenophilius. "No . . . no . . . upstairs . . . Potter!"

"I told you last week, Lovegood, we weren't coming back for anything less than some solid information! Remember last week? When you wanted to swap your daughter for that stupid bleeding headdress? And the week before"

There was a bang and a squeal "when you thought we'd give her back if you offered us proof there are Crumple-" bang "-Headed-" bang "-Snorkacks?" "No, no I beg you!" sobbed Xenophilius.

"It really is Potter! Really!" "And now it turns out you only called us here to try and blow us up!" roared the Death Eater, and there was a volley of bangs interspersed with squeals of agony from Xenophilius.

"The place looks like it's about to fall in, Selwyn," said a cool second voice, echoing up the mangled staircase. "The stairs are completely blocked. Could try clearing it? Might bring the place down." "You lying piece of filth," shouted the wizard named Selwyn.

"You've never seen Potter in your life, have you? Thought you'd lure us here to kill us, did you? And you think you'll get your girl back like this?" "I swear . . . I swear . . . Potter's upstairs!" "Homenum revelio," said the voice at the foot of the stairs.

"There's someone up there all right, Selwyn," said the second man sharply. "It's Potter, I tell you, it's Potter!" sobbed Xenophilius. "Please . . . please . . . give me Luna, just let me have Luna. . . ."

"You can have your little girl, Lovegood," said Selwyn, "if you get up those stairs and bring me down Harry Potter. But if this is a plot, if it's a trick, if you've got an accomplice waiting up there to ambush us, we'll see if we can spare a bit of your daughter for you to bury."

I had enough. I tried to get to my feet so I could make him regret ever uttering those words, but Hermione pressed me down to the dusty floor and shook her head. Feeling unbelievably frustrated, I wanted to scream, but I didn't want to alert them

I was just so angry. I was destroyed at the news, I had always considered Luna to be like the little sister I never had, hearing she had been taken wrecked my nerves. I had an idea, I focused on Xenophilius, instantly regretting it, because the panic and despair that I felt couldn't even be compared to his own.

To try and soothe it, I spoke to him using Legilimency, knowing the Death Eaters would not hear, "I will find her, and I will keep her safe, I swear to you" I promised. Before I said anything else, I was shaken out of the connection.

"Come on," Harry whispered, "we've got to get out of here." While Xenophilius's banging and scraping drew nearer and nearer, Hermione managed to free Ron with the use of a Hover Charm.

"All right," breathed Hermione, as the broken printing press blocking the top of the stairs began to tremble; Xenophilius was feet away from us. "Do you trust me, Harry?" Harry nodded.

"Okay then," Hermione whispered, "give me the Invisibility Cloak. Ron, you're going to put it on." "Me? But Harry —" "Please, Ron! Harry, hold on tight to my hand, Ron, grab my shoulder. (Y/N)-" I grasped her wrist, holding tightly.

Harry held out his left hand. Ron vanished beneath the Cloak. The printing press blocking the stairs was vibrating: Xenophilius was trying to shift it using a Hover Charm.

"Hold tight," she whispered. "Hold tight . . . any second . . ." Xenophilius's paper-white face appeared over the top of the sideboard. "Obliviate!" cried Hermione, pointing her wand first into his face, then at the floor beneath us.

"Deprimo!" She had blasted a hole in the sitting room floor. We fell like boulders, there was a scream from below, there were two men trying to get out of the way as vast quantities of rubble and broken furniture rained all around them from the shattered ceiling.

Hermione twisted in mid-air and the thundering of the collapsing house went silent as she dragged us once more into darkness. The last thing I saw was Selwyn and Travers looking as if they had seen a ghost.

As we landed, Hermione was already running in a circle around us, waving her wand. "Protego Totalum . . . Salvio Hexia . . ." "That treacherous old bleeder!" Ron panted, emerging from beneath the Invisibility Cloak and throwing it to Harry.

"What you think anyone wouldn't do the same?" I said in Lovegood's defence, Ron scoffed. "He was just desperate." said Harry. "Exactly, you're my best friend, but I would sell you out too, if I had to, I'd have done anything to get my daughter back...hypothetically."

"Hermione, you're a genius, a total genius, I can't believe we got out of that!" "Cave Inimicum . . . Didn't I say it was an Erumpent horn, didn't I tell him? And now his house has been blown apart!" "Serves him right," said Ron, examining his torn jeans and the cuts to his legs.

"What d'you reckon they'll do to him?" "Oh, I hope they don't kill him!" groaned Hermione. "That's why I wanted the Death Eaters to get a glimpse of Harry before we left, so they knew Xenophilius hadn't been lying!"

"That's smart, but I still don't see why you wouldn't let me curse them" I said as I dusted myself off and checked Harry and Ron for any violent injuries, healing any minor ones. "Because if you had the Death Eaters could have said that he tried to ambush them"

"Why hide me, though?" asked Ron "You're supposed to be in bed with spattergroit, Ron! They've kidnapped Luna because her father supported Harry! What would happen to your family if they knew you're with him?"

"But what about your mum and dad?" "They're in Australia," said Hermione. "They should be all right. They don't know anything." "You're a genius," Ron repeated, looking awed. "Yeah, you are, Hermione," agreed Harry fervently. I nodded, "Been saying it for years love"

"I don't know what we'd do without you." She beamed but became solemn at once. "What about Luna?" "Well, if they're telling the truth and she's still alive —" began Ron. "Don't say that, don't say it!" squealed Hermione.

"She is, otherwise, they would have just killed her Dad for speaking out, silence them both, but he's much more useful spreading propaganda, so they'd keep her alive as incentive, Vo-" I caught myself.

"The noseless prat wouldn't risk it, because if Xenophilius ever found out, he could start secretly plotting against him" "She must be alive, she must!" "Then she'll be in Azkaban, I expect," said Ron. "Whether she survives the place, though . . . Loads don't. . . ."

"She will," said Harry. "She's tough, Luna, much tougher than you'd think. She's probably teaching all the inmates about Wrackspurts and Nargles." "Yeah, if anyone could turn that place around, it'd be her."

"I hope you're right," said Hermione. She passed a hand over her eyes. "I'd feel so sorry for Xenophilius if —" "— if he hadn't just tried to sell us to the Death Eaters, yeah," said Ron. We put up the tent and retreated inside it, where Ron made tea.

After their narrow escape, the chilly, musty old place felt like home: safe, familiar, and friendly. "Oh, why did we go there?" groaned Hermione after a few minutes' silence. "Harry, you were right, it was Godric's Hollow all over again, a complete waste of time!"

"That's not entirely true, we got to hear a cool story, and I got a sneak peek at the newest Quibbler" she sighed and fell back into her armchair.

"The Deathly Hallows . . . such rubbish . . . although actually," a sudden thought seemed to have struck her, "he might have made it all up, mightn't he?" "He probably doesn't believe in the Deathly Hallows at all, he just wanted to keep us talking until the Death Eaters arrived!" "I don't think so," said Ron.

"It's a damn sight harder making stuff up when you're under stress than you'd think. I found that out when the Snatchers caught me. It was much easier pretending to be Stan, because I knew a bit about him, than inventing a whole new person."

"Old Lovegood was under loads of pressure, trying to make sure we stayed put. I reckon he told us the truth, or what he thinks is the truth, just to keep us talking." "Well, I don't suppose it matters," sighed Hermione.

"Even if he was being honest, I never heard such a lot of nonsense in all my life." "Hang on, though," said Ron. "The Chamber of Secrets was supposed to be a myth, wasn't it?" "But the Deathly Hallows can't exist, Ron!" "You keep saying that, but one of them can," said Ron. "Harry's Invisibility Cloak —"

" 'The Tale of the Three Brothers' is a story," said Hermione firmly. "A story about how humans are frightened of death. If surviving were as simple as hiding under the Invisibility Cloak, we'd have everything we need already!"

"I don't know. We could do with an unbeatable wand," said Harry, "There's no such thing, Harry!" "You said there have been loads of wands, 'the Deathstick' and whatever they were called."

"All right, even if you want to kid yourself the Elder Wand's real, what about the Resurrection Stone?" "No magic can raise the dead, and that's that!" "When my wand connected with You-Know-Who's, it made my mum and dad appear . . . and Cedric . . ."

"But they weren't really back from the dead, were they?" said Hermione. "Those kinds of — of pale imitations aren't the same as truly bringing someone back to life."

"But she, the girl in the tale, didn't really come back, did she? The story says that once people are dead, they belong with the dead. But the second brother still got to see her and talk to her, didn't he? He even lived with her for a while. . . ."

I thought it over, "Well, maybe it doesn't bring the dead back, maybe it's like that old mirror. You remember what you told me about it, maybe it just shows you dead people." I thought aloud to Harry and Ron.

Harry sighed at that and nodded sadly, "So that Peverell bloke who's buried in Godric's Hollow," he said hastily, "you don't know anything about him, then?" "No," she replied, looking relieved at the change of subject.

"I looked him up after I saw the mark on his grave; if he'd been anyone famous or done anything important, I'm sure he'd be in one of our books. The only place I've managed to find the name 'Peverell' is Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. I borrowed it from Kreacher," she explained.

"It lists the pure-blood families that are now extinct in the male line. Apparently the Peverells were one of the earliest families to vanish." " 'Extinct in the male line'?" repeated Ron.

"It means the name's died out," said Hermione, "centuries ago, in the case of the Peverells. They could still have descendants, though, they'd just be called something different."

"Peverell" Harry jumped up and said with enthusiasm, "Marvolo Gaunt!" He said as if it were some sort of secret code. "Sorry?" said Ron and Hermione together. The sudden outburst made me laugh.

"Marvolo Gaunt! You-Know-Who's grandfather! In the Pensieve! With Dumbledore! Marvolo Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!" Ron and Hermione looked bewildered, as was I, we all shared a look, how had he remembered such an obscure connection?

"The ring, the ring that became the Horcrux, Marvolo Gaunt said it had the Peverell coat of arms on it! I saw him waving it in the bloke from the Ministry's face, he nearly shoved it up his nose!"

"The Peverell coat of arms?" said Hermione sharply. "Could you see what it looked like?" "Not really," said Harry, I tutted. "There was nothing fancy on there, as far as I could see, maybe a few scratches. I only ever saw it really close up after it had been cracked open."

"Blimey . . . You reckon it was this sign again? The sign of the Hallows?" "Why not?" said Harry excitedly. "Marvolo Gaunt was an ignorant old git who lived like a pig, all he cared about was his ancestry."

"If that ring had been passed down through the centuries, he might not have known what it really was. There were no books in that house, and trust me, he wasn't the type to read fairy tales to his kids. He'd have loved to think the scratches on the stone were a coat of arms, because as far as he was concerned, having pure blood made you practically royal."

"Yes . . . and that's all very interesting," said Hermione cautiously, "but Harry, if you're thinking what I think you're think —" "Well, why not? Why not?" said Harry, abandoning caution. "It was a stone, wasn't it?"

As much as I hated feeding his delusions, I had to admit it would make sense. "That's smart, if I wanted to keep a stone to myself, I'd make a ring of it" Hermione raised an eyebrow at me. "Everyone would be looking for just the stone, everyone would overlook a family crest ring." I pointed to Harry, "Hide it in plain sight."

"What if it was the Resurrection Stone?" Ron's mouth fell open. "Blimey — but would it still work if Dumbledore broke — ?" "Work? Work? Ron, it never worked! There's no such thing as a Resurrection Stone!" Hermione had leapt to her feet, looking exasperated and angry.

"Harry, you're trying to fit everything into the Hallows story —" "Fit everything in?" he repeated. "Hermione, it fits of its own accord! I know the sign of the Deathly Hallows was on that stone! Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!"

"A minute ago, you told us you never saw the mark on the stone properly!" "Where d'you reckon the ring is now?" Ron asked Harry. "What did Dumbledore do with it after he broke it open?"

After a long pause Harry pulled out his Invisibility cloak and sort of fondled it. "Dumbledore had my Cloak the night my parents died!" His voice shook, he looked as mental as Lovegood did.

"My mum told Sirius that Dumbledore borrowed the Cloak! This is why! He wanted to examine it because he thought it was the third Hallow! Ignotus Peverell is buried in Godric's Hollow. . . ."

Harry was walking blindly around the tent, pacing, "He's my ancestor! I'm descended from the third brother! It all makes sense!" I sighed, and like that, he lost me, it went from a maybe to a conspiracy theory, and all of us knew how much Harry loved those.

"Oh lord here we go, and Draco Malfoy's the heir of Slytherin, Igor Karkaroff put your name in the goblet and I'm secretly Godric Gryffindor. Ron's a cantaloupe and Hermione's a werewolf." I sighed, "It's something every year with you, what's next, Snape's your dad?"

"Harry," said Hermione again, but he was busy undoing the pouch around his neck, his fingers shaking hard. "Read it," he told her, pushing his mother's letter into her hand.

"Read it! Dumbledore had the Cloak, Hermione! Why else would he want it? He didn't need a Cloak; he could perform a Disillusionment Charm so powerful that he made himself completely invisible without one!"

Something fell to the floor and rolled, glittering, under a chair: He had dislodged the Snitch when he pulled out the letter. He stooped to pick it up, and he shouted out. "IT'S IN HERE! He left me the ring — it's in the Snitch!" "You — you reckon?"

I couldn't take it anymore, "Ok, now you are just jumping to conclusions without any evidence. And don't you think if Dumbledore had your cloak and the ring within five feet of him it might have helped him when he took a dive off the Astronomy tower?"

"(Y/N)!" Hermione said in shock, I know it was blunt, but he always makes ridiculous assumptions out of nowhere and by dumb luck they were almost always right by coincidence, but this was stretching it a bit far.

Harry didn't seem to have heard me. "That's what he's after." The change in his voice made Ron and Hermione look even more scared. "You-Know-Who's after the Elder Wand." I sighed, "Yes, he's hunting the thing we learned about ten minutes ago."

"I can't...I can't deal with this right now." I said, leaving the tent to bang my head against a tree or something else more productive then this conversation. With the worries I had about Luna, I didn't need this right now, she needed my help and I wasn't wasting time chasing after another of Harry's hunches.

The thought was pounding against my skull like a bad headache, or maybe I just had a concussion. But the thought of Luna being captured by the Death Eaters filled me with dread, I can't imagine what she was going through.

It was like a nail had been driven through my heart, as if it had gained a new sense of weight and pain as it never had before. I knew it was wishful thinking, but I just wanted answers, I wanted to know where she was and if she was safe.

It was the same way I felt when Ginny was taken by Riddle, as if my heart were about to burst. I racked my brains, trying to think of something, anything, that could lead me to her. I had promised Xenophilius I would, and those type of promises, I never took lightly.

I was tempted several times to break off from the others to go and search for her, though that never came to fruition, I couldn't leave again. We packed up the tent next morning and moved on through a dreary shower of rain.

The downpour pursued us to the coast, where we pitched the tent that night, and persisted through the whole week, through sodden landscapes that were bleak and depressing.

Harry had become almost manic, obsessed with his newfound 'quest' and this led to arguments that weighed on the whole tent in the weeks that followed.

"Obsession?" said Hermione in a low fierce voice, when Harry was careless enough to use the word one evening, after Hermione had told him off for his lack of interest in locating more Horcruxes.

"We're not the ones with an obsession, Harry! We're the ones trying to do what Dumbledore wanted us to do!" But he was impervious to any reasonable argument "I thought it was You-Know-Who we were supposed to be fighting?"

Surprisingly, Ron was the one now encouraging and exhorting us into action. "Three Horcruxes left," he kept saying. "We need a plan of action, come on! Where haven't we looked? Let's go through it again. The orphanage . . ."

I recited it like I had a thousand times. "Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, the Riddle House, Borgin and Burkes, Albania, and just about every other place Tom Riddle had ever step foot in, personally, my money's on Albania, I could do with a holiday."

"You never know," was Ron's constant refrain. "Upper Flagley is a Wizarding village, he might've wanted to live there. Let's go and have a poke around." These frequent forays into Wizarding territory brought us within occasional sight of Snatchers.

"Some of them are supposed to be as bad as Death Eaters," said Ron. "The lot that got me were a bit pathetic, but Bill reckons some of them are really dangerous. They said on Potterwatch —" "On what?" said Harry.

"Potterwatch, didn't I tell you that's what it was called? The program I keep trying to get on the radio, the only one that tells the truth about what's going on!" "Nearly all the programs are following You-Know-Who's line, all except Potterwatch. I really want you to hear it, but it's tricky tuning in. . . ."

Oh, and the radio, oh how I despised the radio. It was on my inanimate object hit list, right underneath the compass. Ron spent evening after evening using his wand to beat out various rhythms on top of the wireless while the dials whirled.

Occasionally they would catch snatches of advice on how to treat dragon pox, and once a few bars of "A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love." While he tapped, Ron continued to try to hit on the correct password, muttering strings of random words under his breath.

The amount of times I had threatened to bludgeon him to death with that radio was obscene, until Hermione cornered me one night as I brushed my teeth to the sound of static and calmly explained why he was so attached to it.

It had never occurred to me, it was his only way of getting news on his family, my throat dried up in understanding. I felt so foolish, I had assaulted an Auror and braved the lion's den of the Ministry to find out news on my family, I couldn't fault him for worrying about his.

Of course he would keep trying every waking moment. Reluctantly, I just accepted it as a part of life from then on. "They're normally something to do with the Order," he told us. "Bill had a real knack for guessing them. I'm bound to get one in the end. . . ."

But not until March did luck favour Ron at last as we camped in a forest near the coast. I was taking a lovely nap as Hermione read a book beside me when Ron shouted excitedly, waking me. "I've got it, I've got it! Password was 'Albus'! Get in here!"

Roused for the first time in days from his contemplation of the Deathly Hallows, Harry hurried back inside the tent ". . . apologise 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?" "He better not tell me the Quidditch scores" I said, only half joking, ". . . 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." "A goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed."

A shiver ran down my spine, Ted Tonks couldn't be dead, I had seen him but a few months ago, he was always so helpful, so kind. I saw him at the wedding, he was so proud. Why would anyone want to hurt such a kind soul?

I was too shocked to even react. But just as I thought it couldn't get worse, I was hit with another blow, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I gazed at one another in horror.

"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."

As the murders of Bathilda Bagshot and a defenceless muggle family were reported all I really listened to was the buzzing in my ears.

Flashes of memory of Ted raced in front of my eyes, my heart sank at the thought of all the breakfast's at Hogwarts I'd shared with Dean.

"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."

Silence fell, and we did not speak. "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 neighbours"

"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 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."

"Romulus...funny." I commented as he took a breath. "'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."

"Nearly always right," Hermione repeated, glancing at him. "Oh, didn't I tell you?" said Ron in surprise. "Bill told me Lupin's living with Tonks again! And apparently she's getting pretty big too. . . ."

"Good, I'd come back and kill the prat if he wasn't" I said, a smirk creeping across my face at the thought of a pregnant Tonks. ". . . and our usual update on those friends of Harry Potter's who are suffering for their allegiance?" Lee was saying.

The first report was that Lovegood had been placed in Azkaban. "At least he's still alive!" muttered Ron. "We have also heard within the last few hours that Rubeus Hagrid-" We all gasped, and so nearly missed the rest of the sentence

"-well-known gamekeeper at Hogwarts School, has narrowly escaped arrest within the grounds of Hogwarts, where he is rumoured to have hosted a 'Support Harry Potter' party in his house."

I was forced into silent laughter so I could hear the rest of the report, that was such a Hagrid thing to do. "However, Hagrid was not taken into custody, and is, we believe, on the run."

"I suppose it helps, when escaping from Death Eaters, if you've got a sixteen-foot-high half-brother?" asked Lee. "It would tend to give you an edge," agreed Lupin gravely. "May I just add that while we here at Potterwatch applaud Hagrid's spirit, we would urge even the most devoted of Harry's supporters against following Hagrid's lead."

"'Support Harry Potter' parties are unwise in the present climate." "Indeed they are, Romulus," said Lee, "so we suggest that you continue to show your devotion to the man with the lightning scar by listening to Potterwatch!" "Better have saved me some cake Hagrid," I chuckled.

"Speaking of giants." said Lee, Lupin continued. "The Ministry Manhunt for (Y/N) (L/N), known Potter supporter and DA founding member-" "Oi!" I said but was immediately shushed as Lupin spoke. "- (Y/N), if you are out there, know that Yaxley's death was a relief for all of us and he will not be missed."

"Royal, am I right to believe you have something to say to (Y/N)?" Kingsley spoke. "If you are listening, I want you to know that he is still safe, and that they would both be proud of you. Very proud." He finished.

Lee added, "(Y/N), wherever you are, know that we support you, and that you still owe me five galleons" "I DO NOT!" I protested as if he could hear me, almost brought to tears because of the support.

"And now let's move to news concerning another wizard who is proving just as elusive as Harry Potter and his mates. We like to refer to him as the Chief Death Eater, and here to give his views on some of the more insane rumours circulating about him.

"I'd like to introduce a new correspondent: Rodent." " 'Rodent'?" said yet another familiar voice, "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-Who's 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, we were all laughing: the sound was glorious "And the rumours 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. "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.

"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 "He's abroad! He's still looking for the Wand, I knew it!" "Harry —" "Well, he also said that hadn't been confirmed." I argued, he was more focused on Hermione.

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol —" "HARRY, NO!"  I tried to cover his mouth, but I was too slow, "— demort's after the Elder Wand!"

"You idiot!" I screamed in frustration as I scrambled for my 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.

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: Our lamps went out.

I glared at Harry in the darkness, pointing my wand about the tent. There was one word, one single word that he couldn't say. How is that difficult to understand?

"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!"