The icy wind nipped at Harry’s fingers as they turned the corner into Hogsmeade station, and the four of them drew their cloaks more tightly round their shoulders, shivering.
“Fancy a Butterbeer?” Ron’s teeth were chattering.
The Three Broomsticks did look welcoming, its clean windows filled with soft light from inside, and though the Horcrux weighed heavily under his arm, Harry weakened.
“Just a quick one,” he nodded.
The pub was surprisingly full; perhaps with Christmas so soon upon them, the need to go shopping was more pressing than fear of the Death Eaters. Eager to avoid notice, Harry chose a table away from the main bulk of the crowd, while Ron went to fetch drinks. Hermione and Ginny slipped gratefully into their chairs. Slipping the scarf-covered Horcrux carefully under his cloak, Harry breathed in the warm, Butterbeer-scented air, and relaxed in his chair as he listened to two old witches discussing their Christmas purchases.
“Give me a hand, won’t you?” Ron was back, carrying four foaming tankards of hot Butterbeer and balancing a large plate of golden-brown sugar-buns with extreme difficulty. Harry took his tankard and warmed his fingers on it, revelling in the sensation of warmth coming back to his frozen hands.
“Thought these things looked good,” said Ron, nodding at the plate of buns as he slid into his seat. “There were these big muffins, too, with some kind of nuts on top “ I was going to get those, but Rosmerta told me she preferred the buns because “”
“I’ve got to tell you something,” said Harry, cutting through Ron’s rambling. He had decided that this was as good a moment as any. “It’s about Snape….”
And so he related to them in undertones everything he had seen and heard in the Pensieve. By the time he reached the part about the two Unbreakable Vows, Ginny’s eyes were as wide as saucers. When he finished, the table was very quiet; it was a lot of information for them to digest at one time.
“I suppose it makes sense,” said Hermione, eventually. “I always thought that if Professor Dumbledore trusted Snape enough to make him a teacher, he must have had pretty firm grounds for trusting him.”
Ginny still looked doubtful.
“Snape’s still definitely a complete git,” Harry told her. “And he still hates my guts. But I think Dumbledore’s right “ even though Snape’s evil, he’s no Death Eater.”
“He acts like one,” argued Ron. His Butterbeer had grown cold without him noticing.
“He stopped the Death Eaters killing Harry last June,” said Hermione. “And didn’t Dumbledore tell you that Snape saved his life, Harry? The time when his hand was damaged by that ring Horcrux?”
Harry nodded, and reached for the sugar-buns. “Look, I still hate Snape for how he’s treated me all these years, and for what he did to Sirius,” he assured Ron and Ginny through a mouthful of sweet, crumbly bun. “I don’t suddenly love him or anything. But I reckon we’re going to have to agree with Dumbledore on this one. I mean, just go along with it, won’t you? It’s not going to affect us that much, I don’t think; we’ll just have to protect Snape from our own side if he comes back.”
They finished their Butterbeer in silence, each deep in their own thoughts.
“We’d better go,” said Hermione eventually. “We should probably get the You-Know-What back home without any more delay.”
They stood up reluctantly; the warm inn was much more comfortable than the wintry outdoors. Ron stuffed the last sugar-bun whole into his mouth, and with that, they made their way to the door.
Harry halted abruptly halfway there “ Hermione and Ginny both walked into him “ for out the corner of his eye, he had spotted something through one of the side windows. He turned and stared in disbelief.
“What is it, Harry?” Hermione hissed anxiously as she regained her balance.
For a long moment, Harry couldn’t speak. Then “
“Percy,” he breathed. “Again, following us!”
“What?” said Ron and Ginny together.
“I said, it’s Percy!” said Harry, pointing out of the window. “And he’s talking to someone “ yeah “ it’s Dawlish!”
“What?” Ron repeated in annoyance. “How’d he know we were here?”
“Never mind that, I want to know what he’s saying to Dawlish,” said Harry grimly. “I’m going to find out. C’mon.”
They exited the inn, and when the door shut behind them
Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket. Wordlessly, the four of them crowded close, and Harry flung the Cloak over their shoulders. It was a struggle to cover all of them, but jammed tightly together they managed it. As quickly as possible they made their way round the side of the inn, where Percy and the Ministry Auror were talking in low, furious whispers.
“I told you, I don’t know why they wanted it,” Percy was saying angrily, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting. “It just looked like a necklace, but they must have Summoned it from the lake for a reason.”
“And what would Harry Potter be wanting with a piece of ladies’ jewellery?” barked Dawlish in frustration. “I doubt the Minister will be satisfied with your report, Weasley. Have you learnt nothing else of interest?”
“They called the necklace a “ a Horcrux, I think, sir.”
Harry stiffened under the Cloak, and felt a trickle of sweat roll down his back. Damn, he thought furiously. Damn. Ron swore, very softly, and Hermione elbowed him nervously to make him be quiet. Harry’s fingers itched to go to his wand and perform the spell that would wipe Percy’s memory clean; but Memory Charms were highly advanced magic, they had not yet been taught them, and he did not know how….
But Dawlish merely looked thoughtful. “A Horcrux, you say? Hm, I don’t know what that is, do you, Weasley?”
“No, sir, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Well, I’m sure it will be of consequence; you did better than I thought. But I still think you should have followed them into the pub.”
“I told you,” said Percy irritably. “I’m not about to go into the Three Broomsticks after them. Following them from Hogwarts is a different matter; I think they’d notice if I walked into the room right in front of them!”
“We could be missing out on important information,” said Dawlish curtly. “Information which it’s your job to collect.”
“It poses too much of a risk, sir.” The back of Percy’s neck was beginning to turn red. “If they knew I was watching them, they’d take extra steps to conceal what they are doing from the Ministry, and you know how much the Minister needs my information!”
“Couldn’t the Minister have spared you an Invisibility Cloak, Weasley? It would have saved a lot of hassle.”
“There were none,” said Percy testily. “All we had are being used by Aurors trying to find You-Know-Who.”
Dawlish sighed irritably and glanced through the window into the inn, then stiffened.
“Weasley,” he said sharply. “Get going; they’ve left already while you’ve been wasting your time gabbing!”
Percy’s face was an amusing mixture of offence and panic. “I’ll see you later, Dawlish,” he said quickly. “I’ll find them, they must be close.”
Before Harry could stop him, Ron had thrown the Cloak off himself and stepped into Percy’s path.
“Yeah, closer than you think, Perce.”
Percy stumbled backwards in shock to see his younger brother appear from mid-air, but soon regained his composure. Dawlish’s gaze flicked from one to the other, and then, alarmingly, at the very spot at which Ron had appeared, and where Harry and the others were still standing, frozen, beneath the Cloak.
“Ron,” said Percy finally, in an unconvincingly casual tone. “What are you doing here? It’s not safe, you know, to wander the streets alone nowada“”
A smashing blow from Ron’s fist directly in his face stopped Percy mid-speech and he cried out in pain, reeling backwards. Beside him, Harry heard Ginny give a soft, triumphant laugh. Harry found himself gripping her arm, warning her not to reveal herself yet. He still hoped they could get away without causing too much of a scene.
“Now, now, that is quite out of order, young man,” the shocked Dawlish began as Percy staggered into him, grasping his shoulder for support.
“You interfering git,” spat Ron, ignoring Dawlish and glaring at his elder brother.
“Ron,” gasped Percy, whose nose was bleeding and lip swelling up. “Ron, I “ I’m disappointed in you “”
“Well, I'm not the one Dad’s disowned, am I?” shouted Ron. “Why can’t you just leave us alone? What we’re doing is none of your business!”
“So you are up to something,” said Percy swiftly, then continued in a tone of forced calm as he mopped up the blood on his face with a starched pocket-handkerchief. “Listen here, Ron, the Minister wants to help defeat You-Know-Who; his aims differ in no way from your own. He is more than willing to lend you and young Harry all the help you need “ a squad of Aurors “ Dark Detectors “ why, he sent a letter offering all of you Auror training just a few hours ago. If you’d just allow us to help you, if you’d just tell us what you’re doing, we have all the resources to aid your success. It’s a more than reasonable idea.”
Percy finished speaking and waited tensely for an answer. His back was straight, his shoulders thrown back, and he was evidently trying to assume an air of dignified authority, though the effect of this was slightly ruined by the large blackish-purple bruise rising on his cheek where Ron had hit him.
“We’re not interested in your help, Percy,” said Ron disgustedly. “Just keep away from us. You can run back to the Minister now, and suck up to him as usual. But if you tell him anything that you heard from us, you’ll regret it. I won’t be seeing you.” He turned away to go.
“What are these Horcrux things, then?” shouted Percy desperately at Ron’s back. “And what do you want with that necklace?”
Harry clenched his fists, sorely tempted to reveal himself. But he was scared that in a confrontation with Percy Weasley he might accidentally let some information slip. He wished Ron would hurry up and leave; it was very uncomfortable under the Cloak, trying not to allow any part of his, Hermione or Ginny’s bodies to be seen.
Ron did not turn round. He merely said through a tightly-clenched jaw, “Shut your mouth and don’t go shouting that in public. And don’t you dare say a word of that to the Minister. Or to anyone else, for that matter.”
“Well, we have other ways of getting information,” said Percy shortly. “We’ll find out what you’re up to, and when we do you’ll be glad of it.”
“What other ways?” said Ron, suddenly, turning round sharply to face his brother again. “How come you always know where we’re going, anyway? That day at Aberforth’s, we didn’t tell anyone about it, only “ only “” Ron’s voice died on his lips and he stared at Percy with dawning comprehension. “That’s why,” he said slowly. “That’s why Hedwig was late back, and why she was so nervous. You’ve been intercepting our mail!”
Harry inhaled sharply, thinking back to Hedwig, who they had had to keep cooped up in Grimmauld Place because she was too scared about leaving the house to hunt. His blood boiled, and finally he could stand it no longer.
Hermione grabbed his arm as he started forward, but he wrenched it out of her grasp and ducked out from under the Cloak. Percy stepped back as his cold gaze was met by Harry’s furious one.
“So, you lie to your own family and spy on your fellow-Gryffindors, capture my owl, and read my letters.” Harry was breathing heavily and he gripped his wand tightly beneath his robes, feeling a slow wave of uncontrolled magic flowing up his arm and into his hand…. Then Dawlish’s curt voice cut through the cold air.
“Why don’t the rest of you show yourself? We all know you’re there.” His gaze was fixed directly on the spot where Hermione and Ginny were crouched under the Cloak. There was a pause, then the girls suddenly appeared as Hermione reluctantly pulled off the Cloak. Percy avoided Ginny’s cool gaze and spoke pompously to Harry, who tried to calm himself.
“We only want to help you, Harry,” Percy began. “The wizarding world needs reassurance that the Chosen One is succeeding in his quest. I’m sure you’re doing very well,” he added hastily. “But if they know you have the backbone of the Ministry behind you, morale will rise sky-high. The population have a lot of faith in you, you realise.”
“Well, good for them,” said Harry shortly. “We don’t want your help. I know what that would be “ a load of publicity and reporters like Rita Skeeter sticking their nose into my business every five seconds. No thanks.”
“Well, why don’t you just let us have a look at that necklace you have hidden under your cloak?” said Percy coaxingly. “I’m rather an expert on artefacts like that, if I say so myself. I could help, you know.”
Harry stared at Percy in disbelief and felt a rush of dislike stronger than anything he had ever felt towards the Weasley boy previously.
“You never give up, do you?” he said slowly. “No matter what.”
Percy didn’t seem to hear. His gaze was fixed on the exact spot under Harry’s robes where he had tucked the Horcrux.
“Show me the necklace,” he said again, but this time it sounded more like an order. “Let me look at it!”
Harry backed away, slipping his hand into his robes and gripping the scarf-wrapped Horcrux tightly.
“I won’t go back to the Minister empty-handed,” cried Percy, as Harry, who thought things were getting out of control, readied himself to Disapparate. “Give me it! Accio!”
“No!” Harry bellowed in horror and fear, as the Horcrux was jerked powerfully towards Percy; his fingers grasped desperately at the ends of the scarf, gripping it with all his strength. For one second in which time seemed to stop, the Binding-Charm which Hermione had placed on the scarf held firm; then, with a terrible wrenching, ripping sound, the scarf was torn away and the purple jewels flashed malignantly in the wintry sunshine, as they zoomed towards Percy’s eager outstretched hands. There was a high, petrified scream from Hermione or Ginny, a vicious clinking of opals as the necklace touched Percy’s fingertips, and then the Weasley boy crumpled without a sound.
“PERCY!” bellowed Ron, his face suddenly white with sickened fear as he hurtled towards his fallen brother. “No!”
Harry’s heart seemed to have stopped; his mouth went completely dry and he, too, stumbled over to Percy’s body where it lay awkwardly on the stony ground. Ginny was already knelt there, her fingernails making marks on her cheeks as she clutched them in agitated horror. One glance at Percy’s still face and blank eyes told Harry all he needed to know. A prickly feeling of terrible guilt and sadness rose up in his chest and he turned away so he wouldn’t have to see the horn-rimmed glasses, which had cracked as their owner hit the ground. All that Harry could think at that moment was, How can we ever explain this to Mrs Weasley? Whatever Percy had done wrong, he was still her son, and Ron and Ginny’s brother. Ron, who was rocking back and forth, gripping his hair so hard his knuckles were white, was evidently sharply regretting the harsh words which had passed between himself and Percy in the last moments of his brother’s life.
But the shock had barely begun to sink in when Dawlish, who had staggered back against the wall of the inn in dismay when Percy had collapsed, gave a shout and drew his wand. Harry looked up and his stomach lurched, for the door of the Three Broomsticks had opened and now, striding towards them with his hood thrown back, his wand raised and a triumphant glint in his cold grey eyes, was someone whom the sight of made Harry’s heart leap in fear; someone who Harry had absolutely no desire to meet at all.
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