Disclaimer: I am just meddling with JKR’s wonderful creations…
Now that they had to prepare for a double wedding, things were suddenly a lot more complicated. Mrs Weasley could be seen rushing up and down the stairs, muttering distractedly about invitations and transport and accommodation arrangements. Although the day of the ceremony (four days time) was still going to be the same, all the wedding plans had to be changed at the last minute. Originally they had intended to hold it at the Burrow--according to Hermione, wizards were traditionally married at the family home of either the bride or the groom. But everyone knew Lupin was still a wanted man, and parading him at a wedding for all to see was probably not the best idea. After sending a long, urgent message by owl to Fleur’s parents and getting an even longer one back, Mrs Weasley announced to their delight that they had decided to have the wedding at Fleur's home in France.
"It's much easier, really," she explained breathlessly, as she buttered them all toast one morning. "There was never really enough room at the Burrow for all our relations--Arthur and I were thinking we'd have to put a temporary Engorgement Charm on the house. But now, what with all Tonks' friends and relations, we'd never manage it."
"Whereabouts in France?" asked Harry, curiously. He had never been abroad before, the Dursleys always having left him to stay with their neighbour Mrs Figg, or Aunt Petunia's snobbish friend Yvonne.
"Bordeaux," said Mrs Weasley, as she bustled around the kitchen, pulling down recipe books from shelves and flicking through them absentmindedly. "Fleur's family have a large mansion there, far more suitable. We should have thought of it in the first place." She smiled at Harry." It'll be lovely. Now, I must go and see if the material for the bridesmaids’ dresses has arrived yet..." and she bustled off.
"You're still being bridesmaid, then?" Harry asked Ginny, who scowled.
"Yeah, me and dear Gabr-r-r-iel," she said, prancing around the room with an exaggerated affected expression. Harry and Ron laughed, though Hermione frowned reprovingly.
"She's not that bad, Ginny," she said, then appeared to change her mind. "Well, a little pretentious, maybe, but nothing too--"
"You've seen her then?" interrupted Harry. "She's been here?"
Ron, Hermione and Ginny nodded.
"A few days before you came," said Hermione. "Bill and Fleur came to talk about wedding arrangements, and they brought her along."
"Right little pain she is, too," added Ron. "Wouldn't stop talking about you, mate. You shouldn't've saved her from the lake that time. Hey, Ginny, you'd better watch out--you've got a rival!"
Harry laughed as Ginny huffed and encircled his waist protectively with her arm. He had pulled Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, out of the Hogwarts lake in his fourth year, as part of the Triwizard Tournament, a wizarding competition he had taken part in. Idly Harry wondered what she was like now.
"We have to wear these stupid dresses," Ginny said grumpily. "Phlegm insisted on this weird light gold colour. I'm going to look like a human-sized fairy in it."
Harry smiled. Ginny never wore dresses. When she was not in her witches' robes, she unfailingly wore very casual outfits; jeans and bright T-shirts. Harry had seen her in dress-robes once before, at the Yule Ball, though as her robes had been second-hand and quite shabby he hadn't really noticed them at the time.
"Oh, I don't know," he said lightly, ignoring Ron's raised eyebrows. "You'd probably look quite nice as a fairy." Ginny perked up slightly at this.
"Well, all I need is a tiara and some wings and I can make it into a fancy-dress wedding!" she said brightly.
"Great idea, little sis," came a voice from the doorway. Fred and George had just entered the kitchen. They slid into seats around the large table.
"Yeah, how about this, do you reckon?" said George, flicking his wand. Instantly, the twins were dressed in huge, swirling black robes, and their faces grew eerily white. They also both sprouted fangs, dripping large amounts of blood down their chins. Hermione wrinkled her nose.
"You don't like our dead vampire look, then, Hermione?" Fred said, changing back into himself with another deft flick of his wand.
"Well--the spell was pretty clever," she said grudgingly. "But I hardly think--"
"Ah, Hermione, they don't need to do anything for fancy-dress," said Harry. "They can just go as themselves--everyone would find them funny--" he ducked, grinning, as Fred threw a piece of toast at his head.
"Bill and Fleur are coming down soon," said George, reaching for a roll. "I'm sure Fleur eez dying to zee you, 'Arry." Harry frisbeed the piece of toast back at him, then paused, realising he'd forgotten to ask after Bill, who'd been savaged by Greyback just over a month ago.
"Er--how's Bill?" he asked awkwardly. Though Greyback hadn't been in werewolf form when he attacked Bill, Harry knew Bill was still a damaged man, and he wasn't sure how Ron--or any of the Weasleys--was taking it.
"Bill's not bad," Ron said, his expression unreadable. "He's pretty much normal, but at the full moon it's difficult for him."
"He doesn't transform, does he?" asked Harry, in surprise.
"No-o, not exactly." said Ron slowly. "But he told us he feels almost like a wolf in a human body." Ginny was gazing sadly at the crust of her toast, not seeming to really see it.
Ron continued. "He had to lock himself in his room the first time the full moon came, to stop himself from attacking Fleur--he kind of said it like it didn't matter, but I dunno, it can't be great..." and he trailed off, looking disturbed. Harry wished he'd never said anything.
"Er," he said awkwardly, not really knowing what he was going to say. "Well--at least he doesn't transform--"
"And it's only once a month, after all," said Hermione, comfortingly. Ron nodded, looking slightly more cheerful, and Fred and George got up briskly, waving their wands so that their plates flew into the stone sink and began busily cleaning themselves.
Mrs Weasley popped her head round the door. "Could you lot come upstairs for a minute? You need to try on your wedding outfits. Walk quietly," she reminded, and they tiptoed past the portrait of Sirius' mother, which fortunately remained asleep, up to Hermione's bedroom where Mrs Weasley had laid out all the dress robes.
Harry held up the ones Mrs Weasley had got him. They were a soft, pale blue, cut in a fashionable way so the sleeves and hem hung loosely and elegantly. In his opinion they looked incredibly stupid, but Ron, Hermione, Fred and George all had similar robes, so he decided not to say anything. Fred, however, gazed at his in horror, blurting out, "Mum--what is that?"
Mrs Weasley sighed. "Fleur's family want everyone in blue, and the same style French robes. It's how they do it there," she added snappily. "And since they're letting us use their house for the wedding, you'd better not complain."
The twins snorted, but didn't argue. Experience had evidently taught them that picking a fight with their mum when she was in a bad temper was not an agreeable experience.
"Oh, and Harry, I think you'd better look in at Hedwig," Mrs Weasley added, folding up the robes carefully. "She was hooting in your room when I was up here just now."
Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. If Hedwig was back, she'd have an answer from the Ministry of Magic about the visit to Azkaban.
They excused themselves as quickly as they could without arousing suspicion and made their way to Harry and Ron's room. Hedwig was perched on Harry's bedpost, clicking her beak in pleasure as she saw him. Harry hurried over to her, taking her on to his arm and untying the scroll of yellow parchment from her leg. She nibbled his earlobe affectionately, and Harry took her over to her cage, opening the door so she could get inside and have a drink and some owl treats.
"What's it say?" said Ron in a low voice, glancing at the door. Hermione shut it, and Harry unfurled the parchment, carrying it over to the window so it was illuminated by the pale morning light.
Dear Mr Potter and friends (he read)
We would be delighted to have you visit Azkaban. Certainly you may pay a visit to Mr Fletcher. If you meet me at the Ministry Entrance Hall at 11.00 next Monday, the 1st of August, I shall be more than happy to escort you.
Yours sincerely,
Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin (Second Class), Auror of the First Division, High Judge of the Wizengamot.
Harry frowned and the others all gasped.
"Scrimgeour?" said Ron, in surprise.
"But how did he get hold of the letter?" Hermione asked, then answered herself, "The person who received it must have shown it to him..." She trailed off thoughtfully. Harry reread the letter, his disgust growing every second.
"'More than happy to escort me,’" he said savagely. "I'll bet he is. He'd been trying to find out what Dumbledore was up to and now he's doing it to me."
"Well, let him come, I say," said Hermione, and they all looked over at her in surprise. "We can tell him it's about family issues," she continued serenely. "It's the best chance we have of talking to Mundungus, and we'd better not throw it away." Harry couldn't argue with that, but privately he thought that Scrimgeour would do his best to find a way of listening in.
"Well, all right," he said. "We'll just have to find a way of communicating to him what we want to know about the locket, without Scrimgeour hearing. That fine with everyone?" he added, and Ron and Ginny nodded, though they both looked doubtful. But the clang of the doorbell downstairs and the resultant shrieks from the portrait floating upstairs stopped any further conversation. Harry hastily grabbed a spare piece of parchment, scribbling an answer in the affirmative to Scrimgeour, and sent Hedwig off again. She gave him a reproachful look out of her large amber eyes as she spread her wings, and he followed Ron, Hermione and Ginny down the stairs feeling slightly guilty for asking her to go off again so soon.
“’Arry!” The throaty cry echoed up the stairs, and the next moment Harry found himself being crushed to the bosom of a very beautiful young woman, whose silvery hair cascaded to her waist. “Eet ees so nice to see you again, ‘Arry!”
“Er--hi, Fleur,” he muttered, feeling his cheeks flame with embarrassment as he saw Ron and Hermione struck with silent fits of the giggles. He disentangled himself as politely as he could, and saw Bill standing just behind Fleur. The scars on his face had not faded and he was definitely not the same, handsome man he had once been. But he was smiling, and Harry could tell that his personality had not changed.
“Gabby ees so ‘appy that you will be zere at our wedding, ‘Arry,” Fleur told him, taking him by the hand and leading him into the kitchen.
“Right,” he said awkwardly. What could he say about a girl he’d only seen once in his life, albeit that in that time he had saved her from the clutches of wild merpeople who inhabited the lake. Luckily, at that moment Mrs Weasley came over with a tray of tea and biscuits and the conversation moved on.
“Are we going to see Tonks and Remus before the day?” Mr Weasley asked his eldest son.
“I think they’re too busy getting ready,” said Bill. “They only decided to get married yesterday, after all. And what with you insisting on having the ceremony together, Mum…”
Mrs Weasley looked annoyed. “Does no one think it was a good idea?” she said snappily. “Unless you would have preferred to prepare for two separate weddings. In these times one is dangerous enough--” her hand flew to her mouth.
“Dangerous?” purred Fleur, smiling. “Why, what could zere possibly be zat ees dangerous at a wedding, Molly? She sipped her drink delicately, looking unconcerned.
“Oh, nothing,” Mrs Weasley said hastily. “Here, have a biscuit, Fleur…”
But all the others seemed to have guessed what Mrs Weasley had been thinking. Bill was biting his lower lip, and Fred and George looked uncharacteristically sober. Harry suddenly realised that Mrs Weasley was right. The Death Eaters were out to make the wizarding world entirely pureblooded, and they targeted Muggleborns and blood-traitors. Tonks, a member of one of the oldest wizarding families, already disowned since her father was a Muggle, marrying Remus Lupin, a traitor to the werewolves and once friend to Sirius Black and James Potter, would definitely be seen as disloyal to the wizarding race. And the Weasleys, all blood-traitors… if Bill married Fleur, who was part Veela, they would possibly be another target. Harry’s insides twisted uncomfortably. But then;
“Is your family home Unplottable, Fleur?” asked Hermione.
“But of course,” said Fleur, looking surprised. “Ze Delacour mansion ees so large, we do not want Muggles wandering in by mistake! And also my grandmuzzer wished zat her family would not be able to find her. She was a Veela, and ze rest of her family, zey were not very pleased zat she wanted to marry a wizard.”
Mrs Weasley gave a small sigh of relief, and Harry felt his stomach unclench. Death Eaters shouldn’t be able to find an Unplottable building. They would just have to watch out after they were married.
“We’re probably worrying over nothing,” said Mr Weasley. “I doubt that anybody we have not told ourselves knows of the wedding. Tonks obviously doesn’t want it widely publicised that’s she’s marrying Remus, since the Ministry are still wasting their time trying to find him.”
Everyone nodded, rather more reassured. Fleur still looked as though she didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Her attention was all on Bill as she gazed at him adoringly through her large, nearly-violet eyes.
“Oh, boys,” said Mr Weasley suddenly. “I nearly forgot--your Apparition test is booked for tomorrow. We wanted you to be able to Apparate to Bordeaux, since the Ministry would probably notice if we tried to set up an unauthorised Portkey.”
Ron looked apprehensive at the thought of trying to Apparate to France--he’d had particular difficulty with Apparition lessons--but Harry wasn’t particularly worried. He’d managed to Apparate illegally quite a lot last year.
“Okay,” he said. “Where’s the test going to be?”
“Hogsmeade,” said Mrs Weasley, as she pottered around the huge kitchen, and began to make lunch. Harry and Ron looked at each other, surprised. Hogsmeade was right up North, near Hogwarts, and it took nearly a whole day’s travelling on the school train to get there from London.
“We’re going all the way to Hogsmeade for the test?” said Harry, bewildered. “Why?”
“Well, traditionally all Apparition tests are held there,” said Mr Weasley. “Since it’s the only all-wizard village in Britain, if there are any accidents, Muggles won’t notice.”
“Except for Charlie,” said Ron, sniggering. “The one and only who manages to Apparate all the way to a Muggle town by accident.”
“I don’t think the old biddy he landed on ever got over the shock,” said Fred.
“Probably traumatised her for life,” added George.
“At least he didn’t forget to take half an eyebrow with him,” said Mrs Weasley, irritated. Ron scowled. He’d failed his test the last time because he’d left behind half an eyebrow.
“Won’t we have to Apparate to get to the Apparition test in time tomorrow, though?” asked Harry, grinning.
“No,” Mr Weasley said, absent-mindedly. “We’ve got permission to set up a Portkey to get you there. It’s at eight o' clock tomorrow morning, so you two had better get up early.” Ron groaned.
“How am I getting to the wedding?” asked Ginny. “I can’t Apparate yet.”
“We’ll have to do Side-Along Apparition,” said Mr Weasley. “It’s only supposed to be used in emergencies, but as they’re watching the Floo Network for Death Eaters and we can’t use a Portkey, it’s the best way to get there unnoticed. We don’t want to alert the Ministry that we’re going to a wedding, or they’ll probably find Remus.”
The next day dawned sunny and bright, a thin ray of early morning sunshine across Harry’s closed eyelids causing him to wake. Getting up, he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains, gazing out at the grey houses opposite, which looked unusually pretty with the rooftops glowing with warm light and a long line of purple-tinted trees swaying in the distance. With a little difficulty he opened the stiff window, and the delightful scent of summer air laced with apple blossom wafted into the room. He let it drift over him, feeling at that moment at peace with the world. It was hard to believe that Voldemort and his followers were out there killing and destroying and taking over everywhere.
A noise behind him made him jump and turn round, and he saw that Hedwig had returned. She clicked her beak at him in greeting as her walked over and gently stroked her snowy head. So that’s it then, Harry thought--the message had been sent to the Minister, and Scrimgeour was going to come with them to Azkaban. Harry knew he would never be able to get on with the interfering, officious Ministry, and he whole-heartedly sympathised with Dumbledore, who had been forced to put up with their endless questions about his doings.
He walked over to shake Ron awake. All he got for his efforts was a muffled groan as Ron yawned into his pillow.
“Apparition test today, mate,” Harry said brightly. Ron appeared not to have heard him, then all of a sudden sank further under the bedclothes.
A mumbled, “I’m going to fail again,” came from beneath the duvet.
“Well, you’re not going to have any chance of passing if you don’t get up,” said Harry unsympathetically, pulling back the bedclothes and rolling Ron onto the floor.
“All right, all right, I’m up,” grumbled Ron, getting to his feet and dusting off his paisley pyjamas. “You’ll turn into Mum if you’re not careful. I’m just going to hold on to my eyebrows this time…”
They dressed quickly and went downstairs to the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was already making breakfast.
“Oh, you’re up,” she said. “That’s good, I was just coming to wake you. Have some toast, both of you. I would fry a bit of bacon but it’s probably best you don’t Apparate on a full stomach.”
Ron had gone slightly green, and Harry punched him comfortingly on the arm.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, hoping it was true. “You nearly did it last time, so you’ll be even better this time. Just hold on to your eyebrows,” he added, grinning. Ron shot him a dirty glance. They finished their toast in silence. Harry wasn’t particularly bothered about the test, since he knew he could Apparate--this was just to make it legal for him to do so. Instead of worrying about the test, Harry mused on what he would do once he could Apparate. They had planned to go to Godric’s Hollow, the village where James and Lily Potter had lived. Harry had a yearning deep inside him to visit his parents' graves and to see the place where he had spent the first, happy year of his life.
Mrs Weasley was looking around the kitchen for a suitable object. “This’ll do,” she said, picking up a large silver platter, the Black family crest embossed on the base. She touched her wand lightly to its centre and said, “Portus.” For a second the platter glowed bright blue and Harry could see it vibrating slightly.
“Feeling all right?” said Mrs Weasley with a smile. Harry nodded, though Ron just let out a sort of nervous grunt.
"All right then. Go now, quickly--and good luck!" They placed their hands on the platter.
Harry felt the familiar tug behind his navel and they were off, whirling amidst a rush of colour and sound. A few seconds later, his trainers came into contact with hard ground and he staggered, but kept his feet.
“Ah, good morning, boys!” a wheezy voice welcomed them. Turning round, Harry saw the familiar wrinkled face of Wilkie Twycross, his Apparition instructor at Hogwarts.
“You are ready?” the little man said, taking the platter and motioning them over to a spot just outside Honeydukes, the sweetshop. Ron looked alarmed at being asked to Apparate so quickly, and tripped twice over his own feet as he stumbled to the spot Twycross pointed him to.
“I would like you to Apparate to Scrivenshafts. You both know where that is?” They nodded. “On the count of three then.”
Ron shifted nervously, beads of sweat on his forehead. Harry could see him screwing up his face in concentration.
“One, two…three!”
They turned on the spot, Harry thinking as hard as he could about Scrivenshafts, letting his body pull away from the earth into thin air, and next moment, felt the usual, unpleasant sensation of being compressed in a very small tube, before he felt firm ground beneath him, and gasping, looked around to find himself directly outside the quill shop. He heard a faint popping sound and glanced around to see Ron hurrying over to him. He appeared to have gone past Scrivenshafts to the next shop.
A second pop, and Twycross stood next to them. “Ah, very good, boys!” Ron looked apprehensive, but Twycross didn’t seem to have noticed that Ron hadn’t in fact appeared in the right place. Harry was thankful that the shop couldn’t be seen from Honeydukes. Ron looked even more relieved, but was evidently trying not to let it show on his face. Harry grinned as he saw Ron anxiously feeling his eyebrows.
“Well, here are your certificates,” said Twycross, meticulously signing two large purple pieces of paper before handing them to them. “And your Portkey,” he added, giving Ron the platter and smiling. “You won’t need it any more.”
But they didn’t Apparate straight back to the Burrow. Harry had a better idea.
“While we’re so close, why don’t we visit Hagrid?” he suggested once Twycross had gone, and Ron agreed enthusiastically.
“We’ll have to use the Honeydukes passage to get into the castle, though, the gates’ll be locked,” said Harry thoughtfully, and he pulled out his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket. Dumbledore had requested him to take it wherever he went, and at moments like this Harry was glad that he still did so.
“We’ll have to put this on,” he said, throwing it over himself and Ron. “It’ll be much harder getting down to the cellar without lots of students there distracting the owners.”
So they crept into the sweetshop, which Harry had never seen before when it wasn’t crammed with Hogwarts students. The owners were chatting to an incredibly ugly warlock, and Harry and Ron managed to tiptoe past them and down to the cellar without too much difficulty. Moments later they had thrown off the cloak and were running down the long, familiar earthen passageway and into Hogwarts.
After about twenty minutes of hurrying down the passageway they came to the point when it began to rise, and they climbed out carefully from the statue of the one-eyed witch. Harry threw the Cloak back around them, unsure if Filch stayed at Hogwarts during the summer.
For a while, both of them just stood there as the memories of six action packed years crashed over them. There had been good times and terrible times, but Hogwarts was one of the few places Harry had always felt safe. Though it was strange and lonesome knowing that Albus Dumbledore was no longer Head of the school, always there watching over his students and smiling serenely.
For a while, Harry almost wished he had not come back. The nostalgia was suffocating, and more than ever he wished he could just stay here for his seventh year, stay with Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean in the dormitory, keep captaining Quidditch, eat in the Great Hall surrounded by people he'd known since he was eleven...to his horror he felt tears beginning to prick behind his eyes. Grateful for the Cloak that hid him, he hastily nudged Ron and muttered, "We'd better get going, we still need to find a way out." For of course the front doors would be locked.
They moved as fast as they could under the Cloak down to the ground floor. Harry pulled out his wand, tapped the nearest window that looked out onto the grounds and whispered, "Alohomora!" The lock of the window clicked, and Ron pushed it open silently. Everything went smoothly, until they began climbing through. They were relieved to be getting out of the castle (Harry had felt discomfited creeping around in the deserted corridors, feeling like a spy or a thief) but a loud miaow sounded suddenly behind them and Harry jumped in panic, the Cloak slipping off him as he went for his wand. Mrs Norris, the caretaker Filch's foul cat, had crept up behind them. She stared at Harry for the briefest second out of her large, dirty-yellow eyes before whipping around and streaking out of the Great Hall, undoubtedly to fetch her master.
Harry hurriedly clambered out to join Ron in the grounds, slamming the window shut and muttering, "Colloforis!" The lock sealed itself with a little squelching sound and Harry dived under the Cloak just as Argus Filch appeared at the window, jowls wobbling suspiciously as he peered out at the grounds. Harry and Ron froze, hearts in their mouths, watching Filch, who stood there for a long time testing the window-lock, before turning and examining the area around. But he seemed to decide it was a false alarm, for they saw him turn and walk away, Mrs Norris prowling behind him.
They breathed again, and hurried off to Hagrid's hut, which had been inexpertly repaired. The night of Dumbledore's death the hut had been set on fire by a Death Eater, and the blackened wood had been chopped out and none-too-skilfully replaced. But the thin line of smoke trickling out from the chimney showed them that Hagrid was still living there.
Harry took off the Cloak, shoved it in his pocket, and knocked on the door, calling, "Hagrid, it's us!" To his surprise he could hear voices, and he wondered who would be in the hut with Hagrid.
The door flew open, and Hagrid towered there, filling the doorway and looking surprised but delighted.
"You two! What are yeh doin' here? Hermione's here as well!"
"Hermione?" said Harry and Ron together, as Hagrid motioned them in. Fang rushed over to them and began happily licking them both, his whole body wriggling with delight. Hermione rose from the chair she had been sitting in, looking bewildered.
"Harry, Ron--why are you here? I thought you were doing your Apparition test!"
"Done it," said Ron loftily, producing the certificate with a flourish. Hermione looked stunned, then beamed and hugged him. "Oh, well done, Ron! You passed too, Harry?"
He nodded. "Yeah, then we thought we'd come visit Hagrid. But what about you, Hermione? Why--"
"Oh, I Apparated up to take some books out of the library," said Hermione. "For our lessons, you know." She indicated to a large pile of books on the floor. "I asked Professor McGonagall and she said it was fine, she opened the school up for me."
Harry and Ron looked at each other. "So, the front doors were unlocked?" Ron said casually. "And the gate?" Hermione nodded.
"Why--how did you get in?" she asked, looking puzzled.
"Never mind," said Harry hastily. He knew Hermione wouldn't have approved of them sneaking in and out of Hogwarts through secret passages and windows. "We found a different entrance," he added vaguely as she raised an eyebrow, and sat down in one of Hagrid's huge wooden chairs, accepting the cup of strong dandelion tea offered him.
"So, how's yer summer been, all of yeh?" asked Hagrid, passing round some rock cakes, which they politely declined, saying they'd just had breakfast. They'd had enough experience of Hagrid's rock cakes to know they were true to their name.
"Oh, all right," said Ron, gulping his tea. "It's Bill's wedding on Thursday."
"Yeah, I'll be there, Ron," said Hagrid, smiling. "Wouldn't miss out on yer brother's big day. And how're yeh gettin' on with--yeh-know-what, Harry?" he added in a low voice, as though Death Eaters might have been eavesdropping through the walls. Harry lowered his teacup in surprise.
"What do you mean?" he said quickly. "What--what have you been told?"
"Nothin' much," said Hagrid, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "But Minerva said yeh three weren't comin' back ter Hogwarts next year, an' I reckon this all this Chosen One stuff that the Prophet keeps spoutin' mightn't be too far off the mark, eh, Harry?"
Harry said nothing. More and more people were starting to learn the truth, or at least part of it, and it made him uneasy. Dumbledore had told him, after all, to keep it quiet, yet it was leaking out in dribs and drabs and at this rate, Voldemort was going to guess the truth. He might even ensure that his Horcruxes were even more impossible to find. Harry silently cursed the Prophet.
"Harry," came Hagrid's voice, gently. "It's a rough time for yeh. Yeh shouldn't have ter do this, but it looks like yeh've bin singled out, an' tha's always hard. But yeh can do it, Harry, I know yeh can."
And Harry looked into Hagrid's warm, beetle-black eyes and smiled. It lightened his heart to know that Hagrid trusted him so.
"Yeah, reckon yeh'll do all righ'," Hagrid continued, reaching over the table to pat Harry on the back, knocking him forwards so that he spilt his tea all over the table. "Knew Tom Riddle at Hogwarts an' all, and yeh're just as powerful as he ever was."
Somehow Harry doubted this, knowing that Hagrid looked at him through rose-tinted glasses. But Hagrid's faith in him gave him a warm feeling inside, and he felt slightly more optimistic about what lay ahead of him.
"What was Riddle like at school, Hagrid?" asked Hermione. Harry glanced at her, unsure if it was wise to talk about Riddle right now, since it had been he who had got Hagrid framed and expelled in his third year. But though Hagrid's face darkened for a second at the memory, he seemed not to mind talking about it with them.
"Yeh wouldn'ta known what he was going to become," Hagrid said quietly. "Always polite to teachers, always top o' the class... but there were some nasty things which happened, mind, which I reckon he was behind. One Hufflepuff, Geraldine McKinnon, she argued with him in her first year--always a reckless one, she was--an' a few hours later she disappeared an' was found, couple o' days after, locked in one o' the dungeons they didn't use. She wouldn't tell anyone how it really happened. And, o’ course, Myrtle Goglum was killed when he opened the Chamber." They all nodded, knowing her, or rather her ghost quite well. Moaning Myrtle inhabited a girl's toilet and was incessantly gloomy.
"Yeah," said Hagrid soberly. "Shame, she weren't the mos’ cheerful one, but very smart--though tha's not surprisin', is it?"
"Why not?" asked Hermione.
Hagrid looked surprised. "Eh? Yeh don't know what she was?" They shook their heads.
"Oh, thought yeh woulda heard 'bout it. Thought she mighta told yeh all them times yeh went visitin' her--"
"We didn't go to visit her!" said Harry, embarrassed. "How do you know we know her, anyway, Hagrid?" He'd never told Hagrid about the times he'd spoken to Myrtle, mostly because they had all been at times when he was doing something he shouldn't have been. Such as making secret Polyjuice Potion in the girls' toilets and trying to get into the Chamber of Secrets, going to the Prefects' bathroom in the middle of the night. The memory of suddenly realising Myrtle had been sitting on a tap watching him during his bath still haunted Harry.
"Ah, well, she comes to see me sometimes when I go up ter the castle," said Hagrid, smiling. "I'm the only one o' her old classmates left in the school now, yeh see, so she likes a chat now an' then...likes ter talk about how she died, mostly, but there yeh go. Hear a lot about yeh though, Harry...reckon Ginny mighta got competition, eh?"
Harry elbowed him good-naturedly. "Yeah, she did tell me I could share her toilet if I died in the Chamber," he said, grinning. "But what's so special about her anyway?"
"Well, don' reckon many people know 'bout this, she kep' it pretty quiet since she didn't really have any friends at Hogwarts, but she told me one time I was up at the castle, she was actually the las' descendant of Ravenclaw."
Harry, Ron and Hermione all gasped in shock.
"Myrtle?" said Ron incredulously. "Moaning Myrtle, Ravenclaw's heir? No way..."
"Yeah," said Hagrid. "Reckon she wasn' lying, neither. She was a pureblood, see? Only one o' all them as was attacked. So there shouldn'ta bin any reason fer Riddle ter set that Basilisk on her. She used ter wear this necklace, see, really old it was--made all out o' some precious stone. But she tol' me it was stolen when she died. Pretty upset she was 'bout it, too." Hagrid shook his head, sadly. "I dunno, killing her then robbin' her body as well. Well, s'pose this is You-Know-Who we're talkin' about--but see, tha' necklace was probably the las' survivin' relic o' Rowena Ravenclaw."