Temptation and Negotiation

(Y/N)'s POV

"I feel like a squirrel, can't we nick some stuff from a corner shop or something?" I moaned as we foraged for food in the middle of nowhere in the woods. "Well, if you can find one, be my guest!" Hermione snapped back.

Yep, she was still mad at me for some reason. How terrible of me, reuniting her with one of her best friends, I should be locked up. I think she was just stressed about his return, the tension that Ron had brought with him was driving me insane.

I didn't expect her to change her mind overnight, and was therefore unsurprised that she communicated with Ron mainly through dirty looks and pointed silences the next morning. But that wasn't even the worst bit.

Ron responded by maintaining an unnaturally sombre demeanour in her presence as an outward sign of continuing remorse. I felt like I was at a wake or something every time I entered the tent from my watches.

It's even worse when Harry goes on watch leaving the three of us together, Ron didn't know how to act, I felt weird around him if I was with Hermione and she was still grumpy towards both of us. Harry had to act as a sort of mediator whenever he could.

A few days after Ron's return, I was offered an olive branch of sorts. Hermione curled up beside me as I scanned the darkness of the forest of Dean. "Mind if I join you?" she asked coyly, "Those are always some of my favourite words to hear from you" I said back as she sat down.

"Have you been sleeping better?" she made small talk, clearly prepping for the rest of the conversation. "Yeah, in a way." She cocked an eyebrow up, "What does that mean?"

"Well, since the venom has made its way out of my system and with the Horcrux gone I'm not having nightmares anymore exactly" "Exactly?" I sighed, I kind of wanted to take this to the grave, but it was too late now.

"I keep having dreams, not bad ones, just ones that make me doubt all of this a little bit, make me want to give it all up." "What? Why!" she whispered as to not wake the others. "It's hard to explain. It sounds all mushy and gross."

"Well, colour me intrigued." I sighed, recalling the dream I had whenever I closed my eyes. "Fine, but you can't laugh" she let out breath and said, "Me? Never." With a little smirk I sighed again and retold my dream.

"It doesn't really make sense at the beginning, it's all just running, but not from anything bad really. It's nothing dangerous we are running from, it's just something we shouldn't do."

"You see, you and me, we sneak out while the others are asleep, we dissaparate away, left them to find the Horcruxes by themselves, and they must have done it, because..." I was nervous about this part "Because?" she said gently, looking invested.

"We bought a house, lived together, had a family, and just, forget about all of this, a cliché and a half right?" I let out a shallow chuckle. "How is that a bad dream?" she nudged me, "It sounds wonderful" I nodded, "That's why it's a bad dream."

"This isn't the locket, this is me, wanting to run away from my problems, just like I always want to. I always want to run when I shouldn't run and fight when I shouldn't fight" as much as it pained me to say all of this, it was good to get off my chest.

She didn't say anything, so I went on, "I should have run from the graveyard, but I convinced myself to stay back and fight, I should have fought at the Department of Mysteries but I ran after Dumbledore, I should have run from Yaxley, but instead...instead...I killed him."

"Sometimes I worry I'm just like them Hermione, the Death Eaters, I can't find a way to get someone out of my way so the first thing I think to do is kill them. Just like that."

She protested, "No, you aren't like them, you know why?" she said, placing her hand on my cheek so I was facing her. She looked to be close to tears, regret hit my heart immediately.

"This. You sitting here and having this remorse, that's what set's you apart, you're not a monster like you think you are, because you feel like this, and that's what makes you more human then any Death Eater."

I sighed, "Maybe. The thought just crawls into my head sometimes, when I'm alone, that's why I hate the dream, because I'm running again, when I shouldn't be, and this time I drag you with me."

I looked down "I hate it because there is a part of me that's tempted to do it, every time I wake up I wish we could. I wish we could pull a Ron and just leave the two of them to their own devices, and just go and live."

"Pull a Ron..." She smiled widely at me, "Well, I agree with you it does sound brilliant. So...maybe we don't make it a dream then" she said "Maybe it's a promise, for after all this is done."

Her smile was contagious "Yeah, a promise, I like that." I wrapped my pinkie around hers and she giggled, I winked at her cheekily, "Cross my heart." We sat there, in a moment of simple peace, but before I could savour it, my brain ruined it.

I sighed, "This is so cliché it physically pains me, I may drop dead." I babbled out. She slapped my arm again and frowned "We we're having a moment and you had to ruin it" I smirked, "We have our whole lives to have moments, I'm sure I can ruin a few" I said, pressing myself into her more, she let out a noise of being content. I love it when she does that.

I smiled and wrapped my arms around her, she was always so warm, just another thing I loved about her. "What did our kids look like? She said curiously, "I can never remember, the end is always the haziest bit, but if they took after their mother, like models I imagine."

She scoffed and slapped my arm, "Models" she muttered, "Don't be silly." I laughed louder then I should, I heard a loud snore from Harry inside, how did I know it was him you ask, I slept in a room with him for six years or so, that's how.

"Yeah, you're right, personally I'd be fine with anything, unless they come out ginger wearing a Chudley Cannons T-shirt or speaking Bulgarian and calling you mummy Hermi-own-ninny" She laughed, "No I'd settle for (E/C) eyes and a few growth spurts" we chuckled

"I just hope they get your hair." I said, pushing a strand behind her ear, "I wouldn't wish this nightmare on anyone" she said, trying to straighten it, "Well, if it makes it any better, I love it." she beamed at me and we spent the rest of my watch together.

With that issue sorted my next one was even more infuriating, I could handle to depressing air in the tent if that was all it was, just a constant. But Ron somehow found a way to annoy me even after I had forgiven him.

In fact, the gloom of the three of us wasn't the worst of it, whenever Ron was alone with Harry or I he became shamelessly cheery. It was bugging me, pick a mood and stick with it. "Someone helped us," he kept saying. "Someone sent that doe. Someone's on our side. One Horcrux down, mate!"

Bolstered by the destruction of the locket, we set to debating the possible locations of the other Horcruxes, and even though we had discussed the matter so often before. Hermione being in a mood with him didn't seem to stop his cheer unless she was in the same room as him.

Late in the afternoon as we scouring the outside of the tent for some berries. Ron decided to drop a bombshell on us, about how close we had come to absolute disaster. He managed to skim over the subject as he was filling us in on everything he had discovered about the wider Wizarding world during his weeks away.

". . . and how did you find out about the Taboo?" he asked Harry after explaining the many desperate attempts of Muggle-borns to evade the Ministry. "The what?" "You lot have stopped saying You-Know-Who's name!"

"Oh, yeah. Well, it's just a bad habit we've slipped into," said Harry. "But I haven't got a problem calling him V —" "NO!" roared Ron, tackling Harry before he got the word out. "Sorry," said Ron, wrenching Harry back out of the brambles

"but the name's been jinxed, Harry, that's how they track people! Using his name breaks protective enchantments, it causes some kind of magical disturbance — it's how they found us in Tottenham Court Road!"

If I had a drink right now I'd be doing a spit take "Why didn't you tell us this sooner!" I squealed, shaking in disbelief. "I thought you knew didn't I, it didn't come up" "So they can find us because we used his name?"

"Exactly! You've got to give them credit, it makes sense. It was only people who were serious about standing up to him, like Dumbledore, who ever dared use it. Now they've put a Taboo on it, anyone who says it is trackable — quick-and-easy way to find Order members! They nearly got Kingsley —"

"You're kidding?" "Yeah, a bunch of Death Eaters cornered him, Bill said, but he fought his way out. He's on the run now, just like us." Ron scratched his chin thoughtfully with the end of his wand. "You don't reckon Kingsley could have sent that doe?"

"His Patronus is a lynx, we saw it at the wedding, remember?" "Oh yeah . . ." They moved farther along the hedge, away from the tent and Hermione. I went inside to tell her Ron's new information.

After telling her about the taboo, she sounded impressed "That's really advanced magic, no wonder we didn't realise!" I nodded, "I've got to give it to snakeface, it's a pretty slick way to keep people from plotting against him."

We heard a commotion outside before we could sing Voldemort's praises any further, stepping outside we saw Harry weakly trying to use his new wand and making a spider grow and shrink in order to test it.

"You just need to practice," said Hermione, who had approached them from behind and had stood watching anxiously as Harry tried to enlarge and reduce the spider. It's all a matter of confidence, Harry."

After I gave Harry a few more encouraging words, Ron gave Hermione a tentative smile, she stalked off and vanished behind her book once more. All three of us returned to the tent when darkness fell, and Harry took first watch.

I sighed as Hermione retreated behind her book, eager to ignore Ron again, as much as I hated to say it, this was really getting old, he wasn't going to be any help to anyone if she ignored him for every second of the day.

I pulled her book down and said "You are going to have to talk to him eventually, it's a pretty small tent" she just scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Hermione, come on, he's back now, he's apologised about fifty times, to keep ignoring him now is childish."

"He deserves it" she said like a whiny child. Glaring at him as he adjusted the dials on his annoying radio. "Aww, look at him, he's harmless" I cooed, she sighed. "I know he's a selfish git sometimes, but cut him some slack, he travelled all this way to find us again. Just like I did."

She sighed again, "He lost a fingernail! And entire fingernail Hermione, we can't comprehend the pain he has endured" I said dramatically, she didn't listen so I shook her by the shoulders "Fine! As long as you stop pestering me"

Finally Hermione climbed down from her bunk. Ron ceased his tapping at once. "If it's annoying you, I'll stop!" he told Hermione nervously. Going against what I thought she was doing, Hermione did not deign to respond, but approached Harry.

"We need to talk," she said. He looked at the book still clutched in her hand. It was The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. "What?" he said apprehensively. The words out of her mouth next were words I'd never thought I'd hear in her voice.

"I want to go and see Xenophilius Lovegood." He stared at her. "Sorry?" "Xenophilius Lovegood. Luna's father. I want to go and talk to him!" "Er — why?" She took a deep breath, as though bracing herself, and said, "It's that mark, the mark in Beedle the Bard. Look at this!"

She thrust The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore forward "The signature," said Hermione. "Look at the signature, Harry!" He obeyed, I looked it over too and true enough, Dumbledore had replaced the A of Albus with a tiny version of the same triangular mark inscribed upon The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

"Er — what are you — ?" said Ron tentatively, but Hermione quelled him with a look and turned back to Harry. "It keeps cropping up, doesn't it?" she said.

"I know Viktor said it was Grindelwald's mark, but it was definitely on that old grave in Godric's Hollow, and the dates on the headstone were long before Grindelwald came along!"

"And now this! Well, we can't ask Dumbledore or Grindelwald what it means — I don't even know whether Grindelwald's still alive — but we can ask Mr. Lovegood. He was wearing the symbol at the wedding. I'm sure this is important, Harry!"

Harry did not answer immediately. "Hermione, we don't need another Godric's Hollow. We talked ourselves into going there, and —" "But it keeps appearing, Harry! Dumbledore left me The Tales of Beedle the Bard, how do you know we're not supposed to find out about the sign?"

"Here we go again!" Harry said, exasperated. "We keep trying to convince ourselves Dumbledore left us secret signs and clues —" "The Deluminator turned out to be pretty useful," piped up Ron.

"I think Hermione's right, I think we ought to go and see Lovegood." Harry threw him a dark look. "I like this plan. Luna would be a bit of welcome cheer in my opinion" I added, keen to see one of my friends again.

"It won't be like Godric's Hollow," Ron added, "Lovegood's on your side, Harry, The Quibbler's been for you all along, it keeps telling everyone they've got to help you!" "I'm sure this is important!" said Hermione earnestly.

"But don't you think if it was, Dumbledore would have told me about it before he died?" I chuckled, "No. He didn't tell you about the sword, or a bunch of other important stuff until he had to, and we probably don't know the half of it."

"I still think we ought to talk to Mr. Lovegood. A symbol that links Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Godric's Hollow? Harry, I'm sure we ought to know about this!" "I think we should vote on it," said Ron.

"Is there any point? We all know where we stand" he shrugged, I think he just wanted to be a part of the exchange. "Those in favour of going to see Lovegood —"

His hand flew into the air before Hermione's. I raised mine, looking forward to seeing Luna. "I do have permission to visit whenever I want" I smiled. Hermione's lips quivered suspiciously as she raised her own. "Outvoted, Harry, sorry," said Ron, clapping him on the back.

"Fine," said Harry, half amused, half irritated. "Only, once we've seen Lovegood, let's try and look for some more Horcruxes, shall we? Where do the Lovegoods live, anyway? Do any of you know?" "Yeah, they're not far from my place," said Ron.

"I dunno exactly where, but Mum and Dad always point toward the hills whenever they mention them. Shouldn't be hard to find." When Hermione had returned to her bunk, Harry lowered his voice. "You only agreed to try and get back in her good books."

"Don't be silly" he said, but his ears went red, so I slapped him in the back of the head and walked back to the bunk, reading along with Hermione as he continued trying to convince Harry "Cheer up, it's the Christmas holidays, Luna'll be home!"

We had an excellent view of the village of Ottery St. Catchpole from the breezy hillside to which we Disapparated next morning. From our high vantage point the village looked like a collection of toy houses in the great slanting shafts of sunlight stretching to earth in the breaks between clouds.

We stood for a minute or two looking toward the Burrow, our hands shadowing our eyes, but all we could make out were the high hedges and trees of the orchard, which afforded the crooked little house protection from Muggle eyes.

"I wonder if Winky's back" I said, squinting for a better view, "It's weird, being this near, but not going to visit," said Ron. "Well, it's not like you haven't just seen them. You were there for Christmas," said Hermione coldly. "I wasn't at the Burrow!" said Ron with an incredulous laugh.

"Do you think I was going to go back there and tell them all I'd walked out on you? Yeah, Fred and George would've been great about it. And Ginny, she'd have been really understanding."

"Are you kidding? I would have worried more about your Mother, she'd knock you sparko, assuming Winky didn't beat her to it and Bones hadn't clawed your eyes out." I added, smiling at the thought of them.

"But where have you been, then?" asked Hermione, surprised. "Bill and Fleur's new place. Shell Cottage. Bill's always been decent to me." "He — he wasn't impressed when he heard what I'd done, but he didn't go on about it. He knew I was really sorry. None of the rest of the family know I was there."

"Bill told Mum he and Fleur weren't going home for Christmas because they wanted to spend it alone. You know, first holiday after they were married. I don't think Fleur minded. You know how much she hates Celestina Warbeck." Ron turned his back on the Burrow.

"Let's try up here," he said, leading the way over the top of the hill. We walked for a few hours, Harry, at Hermione's insistence, hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak. The cluster of low hills appeared to be uninhabited apart from one small cottage, which seemed deserted.

"Do you think it's theirs, and they've gone away for Christmas?" said Hermione, peering through the window at a neat little kitchen with geraniums on the windowsill. "Nah, Luna told me she stays home for Christmas. I remember because that's why I couldn't find her at the Yule Ball"

Hermione side eyed me a bit but seemed to let it go. Ron snorted. "Listen, I've got a feeling you'd be able to tell who lived there if you looked through the Lovegoods' window. Let's try the next lot of hills." So we Disapparated a few miles north.

After a few more minutes of walking through the hills I tried to amuse myself, "Anyone want to play I spy? I'll go first, I spy with my little eye something beginning with G." None of them answered me, "You guys are no fun. It was g-"

"Grass" the three said in unison. "No, actually! It was 'Giant tower in the middle of nowhere'" I said smugly, pointing to the structure. "Aha!" shouted Ron, as the wind whipped our hair and clothes.

Ron was pointing upward, toward the top of the hill, where a most strange-looking house rose vertically against the sky, a great black cylinder with a ghostly moon hanging behind it in the afternoon sky. "None of you would have got that for ages."

"It looks like a giant rook!" "It's nothing like a bird," said Hermione, frowning at the tower. "I was talking about a chess rook," said Ron. "A castle to you." "Yeah Hermione, it's almost like you never paid attention for the countless hours Ron spent babbling on about Wizards chess. Pay attention."

Since mine and Ron's legs were the longest, we reached the top of the hill first. When Harry and Hermione caught up with us, panting and clutching stitches in their sides, they found Ron grinning broadly.

I sighed, "I really need to stop betting on dumb stuff," I handed Ron his sickle and found myself wishing Harry would have been in more of a hurry. "It's theirs," said Ron. "Look."

Three hand-painted signs had been tacked to a broken-down gate. The first read, 'THE QUIBBLER. EDITOR: X. LOVEGOOD' the second, 'PICK YOUR OWN MISTLETOE' the third, 'KEEP OFF THE DIRIGIBLE PLUMS'

"Aww man, I've been craving some Dirigible plums since we left Grimmauld Place" I scoffed and resisted the urge to pick one. "I can never decide if you're joking or not" said Harry from under the cloak, "It's part of my charm."

The gate creaked as we opened it. The zigzagging path leading to the front door was overgrown with a variety of odd plants, including a bush covered in the orange radish like fruit Luna sometimes wore as earrings.

A little owl with a slightly flattened, hawk like head peered down at us from one of the branches. I chirped at it and extended my arm, it soared over to me, "Hey buddy, you're a handsome one, aren't you?" I cooed, stroking its head.

"Can you tell Mr Lovegood we're here? We've come for a visit" I said, and the bird flew off, hooting happily, "You'd better take off the Invisibility Cloak, Harry," said Hermione. "It's you Mr. Lovegood wants to help, not us."

He did as she suggested, handing her the Cloak to stow in the beaded bag. She then rapped three times on the thick black door, which was studded with iron nails and bore a knocker shaped like an eagle.

Barely ten seconds passed, then the door was flung open and there stood Xenophilius Lovegood, barefoot and wearing what appeared to be a stained nightshirt, the owl perched on his shoulder.

His long white candyfloss hair was dirty and unkempt. Xenophilius had been positively dapper at Bill and Fleur's wedding by comparison.

"What? What is it? Who are you? What do you want?" he cried in a high-pitched, querulous voice, looking first at Hermione, then at Ron, at me, and finally at Harry, upon which his mouth fell open in a perfect, comical O.

"Hello, Mr. Lovegood," said Harry, holding out his hand. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter." Xenophilius did not take Harry's hand, although the eye that was not pointing inward at his nose slid straight to the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Would it be okay if we came in?" asked Harry. "There's something we'd like to ask you." "I . . . I'm not sure that's advisable," whispered Xenophilius. He swallowed and cast a quick look around the garden.

"Rather a shock . . . My word . . . I . . . I'm afraid I don't really think I ought to —" "It won't take long," said Harry, I was slightly disappointed by this less-than-warm welcome.

"I thought you'd be happy to see us Mr. Lovegood." He looked at me and said "I — oh, all right then. Come in, quickly. Quickly!"

We were barely over the threshold when Xenophilius slammed the door shut behind us. Next thing I knew, we were stood in the most brilliant kitchen I had ever seen. The room was perfectly circular, so that it felt like being inside a giant pepper pot.

Everything was curved to fit the walls — the stove, the sink, and the cupboards — and all of it had been painted with flowers, insects, and birds in bright primary colours. "Of course Luna would live here" I muttered, bemused.

In the middle of the floor, a wrought-iron spiral staircase led to the upper levels. There was a great deal of clattering and banging coming from overhead "You'd better come up," said Xenophilius, still looking extremely uncomfortable, and he led the way.

The room above seemed to be a combination of living room and workplace, and as such, was even more cluttered than the kitchen.

Though much smaller and entirely round, the room somewhat resembled the Room of Requirement on the unforgettable occasion that it had transformed itself into a gigantic labyrinth comprised of centuries of hidden objects.

There were piles upon piles of books and papers on every surface. Delicately made models of creatures, all flapping wings or snapping jaws, hung from the ceiling.

But something still felt off, Luna was not here, I thought she'd be tripping over books and stuff while she ran to see us by now.

The thing that was making such a racket was a wooden object covered in magically turning cogs and wheels. It looked like the bizarre offspring of a workbench and a set of old shelves, it was an old-fashioned printing press, churning out Quibblers.

"Excuse me," said Xenophilius, and he strode over to the machine, seized a grubby tablecloth from beneath an immense number of books and papers, which all tumbled onto the floor, and threw it over the press, somewhat muffling the loud bangs and clatters.

He then faced Harry. "Why have you come here?" Before Harry could speak, however, Hermione let out a small cry of shock. "Mr. Lovegood — what's that?"

She was pointing at an enormous, gray spiral horn, not unlike that of a unicorn, which had been mounted on the wall, protruding several feet into the room.

"It is the horn of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack," said Xenophilius. "No, it isn't!" said Hermione. "Hermione," muttered Harry, embarrassed, "now's not the moment —"

"BLOODY HELL! Why is that thing in your house!" I said, taking a better look at it I realised what it was, it was burned into my memory thanks to a very unproductive lesson with Hagrid. "What?" Said Harry, looking mortified.

"Harry, it's an Erumpent horn! It's a Class B Tradeable Material and it's an extraordinarily dangerous thing to have in a house!"

"How d'you know it's an Erumpent horn?" asked Ron, edging away from the horn as fast as he could as I shuffled behind him and crouched down so he would absorb any impact for me.

"There's a description in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them! Mr. Lovegood, you need to get rid of it straightaway, don't you know it can explode at the slightest touch?"

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack," said Xenophilius very clearly, a mulish look upon his face, "is a shy and highly magical creature, and its horn —"

"Mr. Lovegood, I recognise the grooved markings around the base, that's an Erumpent horn and it's incredibly dangerous — I don't know where you got it —"

"I bought it," said Xenophilius dogmatically, "two weeks ago, from a delightful young wizard who knew of my interest in the exquisite Snorkack. A Christmas surprise for my Luna. Now,"

"Mr. Lovegood, as much as I love the Quibbler and as much as I'm sure you think Luna would love it as a gift, that is not the kind of surprise anyone would appreciate for Christmas, even her, unless you're a big fan of long stretches in St. Mungo's"

"Nonsense, you should read more (Y/N)" he said condescendingly, turning to Harry, "why exactly have you come here, Mr. Potter?" "We need some help," said Harry, before Hermione could start again.

"Ah," said Xenophilius. "Help. Hmm." His good eye moved again to Harry's scar. He seemed simultaneously terrified and mesmerized. "Yes. The thing is . . . helping Harry Potter . . . rather dangerous . . ."

"Aren't you the one who keeps telling everyone it's their first duty to help Harry?" said Ron. "In that magazine of yours?" Xenophilius glanced behind him at the concealed printing press, still banging and clattering beneath the tablecloth.

"Er — yes, I have expressed that view. However —" "That's for everyone else to do, not you personally?" said Ron. Xenophilius did not answer. He kept swallowing, his eyes darting between us all. "Where's Luna?" asked Hermione. "Let's see what she thinks."

Xenophilius gulped. He seemed to be steeling himself. Finally he said in a shaky voice difficult to hear over the noise of the printing press.

"Luna is down at the stream, fishing for Freshwater Plimpies. She . . . she will like to see you. I'll go and call her and then — yes, very well. I shall try to help you."

He disappeared down the spiral staircase and I heard the front door open and close. We looked at each other. "Cowardly old wart," said Ron. "Luna's got ten times his guts." I nudged him and smirked, raising an intrigued eyebrow and making a kiss noise.

He frowned at me and pushed me towards the horn, luckily, I was stopped from tumbling into it by a mountain of books "Ron's right, He's off his nut, more than I thought anyway." I said, eyeing the horn cautiously

"He's probably worried about what'll happen to them if the Death Eaters find out I was here," said Harry. "Well, I agree with Ron too," said Hermione.

"Awful old hypocrite, telling everyone else to help you and trying to worm out of it himself. And for heaven's sake keep away from that horn."

"Look at this," said Harry. He pointed to a stone bust of a beautiful but austere-looking witch wearing a most bizarre-looking headdress. Two objects that resembled golden ear trumpets curved out from the sides.

A tiny pair of glittering blue wings was stuck to a leather strap that ran over the top of her head, while one of the orange radishes had been stuck to a second strap around her forehead.

"Fetching," said Ron. "Surprised he didn't wear that to the wedding." The front door closed a moment later Xenophilius had climbed back up the spiral staircase into the room, his thin legs now encased in Wellington boots, bearing a tray of ill-assorted teacups and a steaming teapot.

"Ah, you have spotted my pet invention," he said, shoving the tray into Hermione's arms and joining Harry at the statue's side. "Modelled, fittingly enough, upon the head of the beautiful Rowena Ravenclaw. 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure!' "

He indicated the objects like ear trumpets. "These are the Wrackspurt siphons — to remove all sources of distraction from the thinker's immediate area. Here,"

He pointed out the tiny wings, "a billywig propeller, to induce an elevated frame of mind. Finally," he pointed to the orange radish, "the Dirigible Plum, so as to enhance the ability to accept the extraordinary."

Xenophilius strode back to the tea tray, which Hermione had managed to balance precariously on one of the cluttered side tables. "May I offer you all an infusion of Gurdyroots?" said Xenophilius. "We make it ourselves."

"Why not?" I said, he started to pour out the drink, which was as deeply purple as beetroot juice, after handing me a cup he added, "Luna is down beyond Bottom Bridge, she is most excited that you are here."

"Do you want me to go give her a hand?" I offered, he looked to a clock and dismissed me "No need. She ought not to be too long, she has caught nearly enough Plimpies to make soup for all of us. Do sit down and help yourselves to sugar."

"Now," he removed a tottering pile of papers from an armchair and sat down, his Wellingtoned legs crossed, "how may I help you, Mr. Potter?"

"Well," said Harry, glancing at Hermione, who nodded encouragingly, "it's about that symbol you were wearing around your neck at Bill and Fleur's wedding"

"Mr. Lovegood. We wondered what it meant." Xenophilius raised his eyebrows. "Are you referring to the sign of the Deathly Hallows?"

"The Deathly Hallows?" "That's right," said Xenophilius. "You haven't heard of them? I'm not surprised. Very, very few wizards believe. Witness that knuckleheaded young man at your brother's wedding," he nodded to Ron "who attacked me for sporting the symbol of a well-known Dark wizard! Such ignorance."

"There is nothing Dark about the Hallows — at least, not in that crude sense. One simply uses the symbol to reveal oneself to other believers, in the hope that they might help one with the Quest."

He stirred several lumps of sugar into his Gurdyroot infusion and drank some. "I'm sorry," said Harry. "I still don't really understand." To be polite, I took a sip from his cup too, and almost gagged: how was it warm and cold at the same time?

As I tried my best to force the drink, which was comparable to Polyjuice potion, down my throat, he continued. "Well, you see, believers seek the Deathly Hallows," said Xenophilius, smacking his lips in apparent appreciation of the Gurdyroot infusion.

"But what are the Deathly Hallows?" asked Hermione. Xenophilius set aside his empty teacup. "I assume that you are all familiar with "The Tale of the Three Brothers'?" Harry said, "No," but Ron, Hermione and I all said, "Yes." Xenophilius nodded gravely.

"Well, well, Mr. Potter, the whole thing starts with 'The Tale of the Three Brothers' . . . I have a copy somewhere. . . ." He glanced vaguely around the room, at the piles of parchment and books, but Hermione said, "I've got a copy, Mr. Lovegood, I've got it right here."

And she pulled out The Tales of Beedle the Bard from the small, beaded bag. "The original?" inquired Xenophilius sharply, she nodded.

"Well then, why don't you read it aloud? Much the best way to make sure we all understand." "Er . . . all right," said Hermione nervously.

She opened the book, and gave a little cough and began to read. "There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight —"

"Midnight, our mum always told us," said Ron, who had stretched out, arms behind his head, to listen. Hermione shot him a look of annoyance.

"Sorry, I just think it's a bit spookier if it's midnight!" said Ron. "But Ron, you might have nightmares" I joked, he tutted at me, but Harry was on my side.

"Yeah, because we really need a bit more fear in our lives," Xenophilius did not seem to be paying much attention but was staring out of the window at the sky. "Go on, Hermione."

"In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water."

"They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure. "And Death spoke to them —" "Sorry," interjected Harry, "but Death spoke to them?" "It's a fairy tale, Harry!" "Right, sorry. Go on."

"And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning."

"He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him."

"So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death!"

"So, Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother. "

'Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death."

"So, Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.

"And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death."

"So, he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility."

"Death's got an Invisibility Cloak?" Harry interrupted again. "So, he can sneak up on people," said Ron. "Sometimes he gets bored of running at them, flapping his arms and shrieking . . . sorry, Hermione."

"Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts. " 'In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination."

"The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed."

"Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible."

"That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat." "And so, Death took the first brother for his own.

"Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him."

"Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her."

"And so, Death took the second brother for his own." "But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him."

"It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."

Hermione closed the book. I had a smile plastered on my face the whole time, the nostalgia warming my heart as she told the story I was so fond of, though my brother always told me it differently.

In his version the third brother hunted down the other gifts using his cloak and used the stone to bring back his brothers, then they all used the elder wand and all beat Death together, and all rode off into the sunset together. Guess he preferred happy endings.

I let out a yawn and had the sudden urge to sleep, feeling the same sense of wonder I did as a child when wondering about the fate of the third brother's son and what adventures he had after being given the cloak.

It was a moment or two before Xenophilius seemed to realise that she had stopped reading, then he withdrew his gaze from the window and said. "Well, there you are." "Sorry?" said Hermione, sounding confused.

"Those are the Deathly Hallows," said Xenophilius. He picked up a quill from a packed table at his elbow and pulled a torn piece of parchment from between more books.

"The Elder Wand," he said, and he drew a straight vertical line upon the parchment. "The Resurrection Stone," he said, and he added a circle on top of the line. "The Cloak of Invisibility,"

He finished, enclosing both line and circle in a triangle, to make the symbol that so intrigued Hermione. "Together," he said, "the Deathly Hallows."

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