While we're waiting, I'm gonna play.
It's just play, not high-tech robbery.
A/N: In Harry Potter circles, this is known to some as Whodunit Thirteen. I have, in trying to keep with JKR's tradition, made the main mystery make an appearance here. Also in keeping with JKR's tradition, I doubt anyone who spots it for what it is will see it. If you think you do, please let me know so I can make it harder.
Things didn't proceed in quite so orderly a manner after that.
While it was true that Mr. Bones could obtain the cup whenever he wanted, he had no idea how to do it, and Harry's own research wasn't leading to any clues, either.
To make matters worse, his work was beginning to drive him mad. Hours spent in the library reading auction inventories and “tell all” books about the Founders written by grandsons of cousins of their children that held only vague hints about Gryffindor's possessions all being destroyed “ except his sword, thought Harry “ but him leaving behind “a possession more precious than any mere thing.
This statement was more confusing every time he read it.
The most frightening thing about the confusion was how pervasive it was. It seeped into everything he did. When he studied, it distracted him. He dreamed of the fates of ancient artifacts and of destroyed Horcruxes coming back to haunt him. Once he dreamed of drowning Snape in his cauldron.
Only two things kept him going “ Ron's Quidditch club, and the D.A.
Ron had ended up organizing two teams out of the eighteen students, with himself captaining one and Luna, of all people, captaining the other (She had told them, quite seriously, that playing Quidditch was an excellent way to avoid being accosted by eblefrigles. Although no one knew what an eblefrigle was, no one questioned this statement either.) Ron's team held practices twice a week, and they played twice a month. It wasn't the same as it had been, but it was a good distraction.
The D.A. Was also busy. The students were all learning defensive magic, and his select group (Neville, Luna, Ernie, Susan, Ginny, Colin, and Dennis) were working on offensive spells as well. Most of Harry's “free” time was spent plannign their lessons, but he didn't mind “ it was the one place he felt hew as truly making a difference.
It was mid-November when Neville heard Harry and Hermione arguing about their next step.
“Harry, you know what it means!” Hermione was saying, pointing to a large book. “It means the Lestranges had...” she trailed off when she saw Neville. “Er...hello, Neville.”
Harry braced himself for what he knew would happen next. He wasn't disappointed. “Neville...” he trailed off, unsure if he should proceed.
“What about the Lestranges?” Neville asked.
“They have some information we need, that's all,” replied Hermione.
“Oh,” said Neville, “Glad to know I'm not out of the loop.”
“Listen, Neville,” said Harry, “you can't help us with this. Best to just let it be -”
But Neville was having none of it. “They ruined my family!” he yelled.
Harry and Hermione couldn't think of anything to say to that. Finally, Harry did the only thing he could “ he told the truth.
Partly.
“Voldemort wanted to collect a trophy from each Hogwarts founder,” he told Neville. “The Lestranges had one since...well, it was an heirloom that had once belonged to Ravenclaw. Anyway, we want the book, just because...we do.”
He knew Neville could be trusted, but it still seemed like the wrong time to tell him what was going on, and Harry had learned to trust those instincts.
Neville glared at Harry. “Glad to know you're not hiding anything. Now that I know the whole story, I don't feel like such an idiot,” he said.
Harry didn't know what to say “ not that it really would have mattered. Neville was irate.
“I trust you, Harry,” he said, “but I have the right to know.”
“I know you do,” said Harry, “but it's awfully damn convenient. I don't know anything.” Hermione tried to interrupt at this point, but he silenced her with a look. “I'll tell you when I know something we can actually use,” Harry promised.
Neville still didn't look happy, but... “Okay.”
November turned into December and nothing new was found. Voldemort and his followers attacked fifteen more times, at least twice a week. Stories circulated that raids were being conducted on the homes of Ministry workers, and the Weasleys were forced to move into Hogwarts for their own protection. Bill and Fleur were at the school most of the time, too.
One day, about a week before Christmas, Harry showed up at an Order meeting with Ron and Hermione only to find that they were the only ones there. Just when they were beginning to worry, Arthur Weasley Flooed into the room.
“Hi, kids!” he said cheerfully. “I just came to let you know there was another attack today.”
Harry couldn't see what he had to be so cheerful about.
“No one on our side was hurt,” continued Arthur, which explained the cheerfulness. “Just a few destroyed porking meters. And no Muggle wittnesses. We repaired the porking meters already and now we're just imprisoning the Death Eaters that were captured. I asked the Order to come help, but Molly wouldn't hear of you three being involved. I just came back to tell you that Amycus and Alecto Meers are dead, and so is Garfield Goyle. Oh, and that snake of Voldemort's.”
“Nagini?” asked Harry.
“Exactly,” replied Mr. Weasley.
Ron broke into a grin.
“Well, said Mr. Weasley, “I need to get back. We'll have the meeting tomorrow.” He flooed away.
“Excellent!” cried Ron, “That's easy “ goodbye to Horcrux Number Two!”
“But why was the snake even there?” asked Hermione.
“Doesn't matter,” said Ron, “it's dead. We should celebrate. Quidditch, anyone?”
Neither of them noticed Harry's momentary frown.