It was like sinking into an old nightmare, for an instant Harry knelt again beside Dumbledore's body at the foot of the tallest tower at Hogwarts, but in reality he was staring at a tiny body curled upon the grass, pierced by Bellatrix's silver knife. Harry's voice was still saying, "Dobby... Dobby..." even though he knew that the elf had gone where he could not call him back.
After a minute or so he realized that they had, after all, come to the right place, for here were Bill and Fleur, Dean and Luna, gathering around him as he knelt over the elf.
"Y/n and Hermione?" he said suddenly. "Where are they?"
"Ron's taken them inside." said Bill. "Y/n's in rough shape but he'll be all right."
Harry looked back down at Dobby. He stretched out a hand and pulled the sharp blade from the elf's body, then dragged off his own jacket and covered Dobby in it like a blanket.
Pain shot through every being of Y/n's body as his eyes slowly opened. He did not recognize the ceiling, nor these walls. But they certainly did not belong to the Malfoy Manor for they lacked it's cold enviroment.
"How.." His throat felt dry, most likely from the screaming and cries of pain he had gone through. "How long have I been asleep?" He asked after taking a moment to rest his throat.
"An hour." A familiar voice said to the side of him.
"You are alright..." Y/n said with tired relief as he turned his head and looked to Hermione who was sitting in a chair by his bedside.
"Why did you do such a...stupid thing!?" Hermione asked him as the tears began to fall again onto her already tear-stained cheeks. "Antagonising that woman like that."
Y/n just reached for Hermione's hand now as he tried to hold it as strongly as he could.
"I saw a chance to focus her fears and anger upon myself, and I took it." Y/n told her. "I know that it was not a wise thing to do and could have cost me even more than it did..." He stopped for a moment as he felt Hermione's hand tighten in his. "I am sorry for what you had to watch and endure. But I would suffer through it again if it means you do not have to feel it for yourself."
"That doesn't mean it was the right thing to do Y/n. Watching Bellatrix torture you like that was awful. Being so helpless to help the person you love most while they are going through such a thing...it's...it's too much...I couldn't do anything but plead for them to ,stop but they wouldn't. You could have died tonight. I could of lost you!"
"I admit it was not a wise thing to do..." Y/n started carefully. "But I think any man who loves a person as much as I love you would have done the same." Y/n said.
"Honestly...for someone so intelligent, you can be incredibly stupid sometimes!" Hermione told him.
Y/n could not help but let out a small chuckle before he stopped to cough. "Yes, but luckily I will have you to keep me on the right path."
Y/n groaned as he moved to sit up now and pulled the covers off.
"Y/n what are you doing?" Hermione asked him. "You need rest."
"I cannot rest right now, my mind is too occupied...I would like some fresh air to clear it first. Please help me up." He asked for her help.
Hermione did not want Y/n to get out of bed, but he almost never asked for help. She reluctantly got up and used her strength to support him as he groaned and lifted himself up out of the bed.
The first thing he did once he stood up was wrap his arms around Hermione and hold her close to him.
Hermione sank into him, holding back. "I thought we were going to die..." She admitted now.
Y/n moved one of his hands to the back of her head now as he held it. "It is over now...we are safe. Both of us."
They stayed like that in silence for a few minutes.
Y/n broke the hug first. "Come on, Let us make our way downstairs."
"Rest your weight on me if you need to and I'll bring you back to bed." Hermione told him taking his hand again.
"I should be alright." Y/n said. "I just need to move a little slower at first."
The trip down the stairs was admittedly slower than one would usually take but both took no risks as they made their way down them.
Y/n and Hermione slowly entered the kitchen now, as he could see Bill, Fleur, Ron, Dean and Luna sat at the table. At his and Hermione's entrance their heads all looked up.
"You're awake mate!" Ron said quick to his feet.
"Ron." Y/n nodded, acknowledging him.
"I didn't think you were going to wake up for days to be honest, let alone an hour...you look awful." Ron said.
"I feel awful." Y/n admitted. "But I cannot sleep just now."
"Shall I prep'are some dreamless sleep potion for you?" Fleur asked.
"There is no need." Y/n said kindly. "I simply want to find out what happened before returning to rest."
"Hello Y/n, Hermione." Luna said dreamily from her chair now.
Y/n was glad to see that her time imprisoned had not affected Luna too badly.
"Hello Luna." Hermione greeted her.
"Luna. It is very nice to see you again, friend." Y/n said giving her a small smile as he remembered the word from her bedroom wall. "I only wish it could be on a happier occasion."
"It's alright." Luna smiled. "It's just nice to see everyone again.
"That was some disguise Y/n." A voice said now and Y/n turned his head to see Dean. "I didn't even realise it was you when I first looked at you."
"Thank you Dean." Y/n said before looking to them all now. "Tell me, how was it we came to escape?" He asked.
Ron face turned grim now. "It was Dobby." He said unable to meet Y/n's eyes. "He just sort of appeared in the cellars and got everyone else out, then Harry and I escaped back to the drawing room to help you and Hermione. Dobby came back and made a chandelier fall to get Bellarix off you, and I grabbed you and Hermione and apparated here while Harry took Griphook and Dobby."
"And where is Dobby now? I would like to give him my thanks." Y/n asked.
"Bellatrix...she..." Ron started but couldn't finish.
But it didn't matter Y/n knew what he was trying to say. Dobby was gone. Y/n's eyes closed mournfully as a wave of sadness crashed into him and he heard Hermione begin to sniffle beside him. Though they truthfully had only met a handful of times, the house elf had made quite an impression on Y/n, and he would greatly miss him.
"Harry's digging a hole..." Ron said not wanting to use the word grave while he explained Harry's absence from the kitchen. "Dean and I were about to go help."
"I will join you." Y/n said.
"Y/n no, you need rest." Hermione said adamantly.
"She's right, you've been through quite the ordeal, all of you have by the sounds of things." Bill spoke up now.
"Yes, you muzt stay in bed and rest." Fleur said after her husband.
"You are all right, I should rest... but I cannot. This is something I must do for a dear friend whom I must now say goodbye to." Y/n said moving to pick up a shovel. "When it is done and he rests peacefully, so too will I rest for a while."
Hermione went to speak again but stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see it was Ron who shook his head.
"It's a man's thing Hermione." He said quietly so Y/n couldn't hear. "We'll make sure he doesn't do too much."
Dean nodded as he got up now as well and grabbed two shovels handing one to Ron.
Together the three silently left the cottage.
"Men..." Hermione sighed shaking her head frustrated as she collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs.
Harry lost track of time. He knew only that the darkness had lightened a few degrees when he was rejoined by Y/n, Ron and Dean.
"Y/n...How..." Harry began but stopped when Y/n slowly and carefully climbed into the hole he had made so far and silently set to work with him. Harry knew that Y/n must have been in agony, that his body was screaming with exhaustion but he also understood that like him, he had to do this. For Dobby.
Harry made no move to stop him and Ron and Dean said nothing either as they jumped down into the hole as well with spades of their own, and together the four worked in silence.
The work was hard, and Y/n clearly struggled with it as he moved more slowly and moved less dirt than the others, but none of them complained. They knew he was giving all he had left to show his appreciation to Dobby, who had given his life to save them. They worked until the hole seemed deep enough.
Harry wrapped the elf more snugly in his jacket. Ron helped Y/n up and both sat on the edge of the grave for a moment and Y/n stripped off his socks, which he placed upon the elf's bare feet, while Ron put his shoes upon the fallen house elf. Dean produced a woolen hat, which Harry placed carefully upon Dobby's head, muffling his batlike ears.
"We should close his eyes." Luna's voice gently said.
Y/n had not heard the others coming through the darkness. Bill was wearing a traveling cloak, Fleur a large white apron, from the pocket of which protruded a bottle of what Y/n recognized to be Skele-Gro. Hermione was wrapped in a borrowed dressing gown now, her skin was pale and she looked exhausted.
"Help me up please." Y/n said quietly to Ron.
Ron nodded and helped Y/n up and once on his feet Y/n moved to put an arm around Hermione when she reached him.
Luna, who was huddled in one of Fleur's coats, crouched down and placed her fingers tenderly upon each of the elf's eyelids, sliding them over his glassy stare.
"There." she said softly. "Now he could be sleeping."
"A peaceful slumber that he has earned." Y/n said respectfully.
Harry placed the elf into the grave, arranged his tiny limbs so that he might have been resting, then climbed out and gazed for the last time upon the little body. He forced himself not to break down as he remembered Dumbledore's funeral, and the rows and rows of golden chairs, and the Minister of Magic in the front row, the recitation of Dumbledore's achievements, the stateliness of the white marble tomb. He felt that Dobby deserved just as grand a funeral, and yet here the elf lay between bushes in a roughly dug hole.
"I think we ought to say something." piped up Luna. "I'll go first, shall I?"
And as everybody looked at her, she addressed the dead elf at the bottom of the grave.
"Thank you so much, Dobby, for rescuing me from that cellar. It's so unfair that you had to die, when you were so good and brave. I'll always remember what you did for us. I hope you're happy now."
She turned and looked expectantly at Ron, who cleared his throat and said in a thick voice, "Yeah...thanks, Dobby."
"Thanks." muttered Dean.
Harry swallowed. "Good-bye, Dobby," he said. It was all he could manage, but Luna had said it all for him.
"I say goodbye to a dear friend today, one who despite ridicule from others, never failed to stand up for what they believed in. I will deeply miss his company and I shall never forget their bravery." Y/n spoke.
Bill raised his wand, and the pile of earth beside the grave rose up into the air and fell neatly upon it, a small, reddish mound.
"D'you mind if I stay here a moment?" Harry asked the others.
A few murmured words he did not catch as he felt gentle pats upon his back, and then most traipsed back toward the cottage.
"I will come back with Harry. Then we can get some rest." Y/n said to Hermione. She nodded and turned to leave Y/n and Harry alone stood by the grave.
"Dobby was a brave soul, and he will be dearly missed." Y/n said quietly to Harry who just nodded.
Harry looked around, There were a number of large white stones, smoothed by the sea, marking the edge of the flower beds.
Y/n watched as Harry picked up one of the largest and laid it, pillowlike, over the place where Dobby's head now rested.
Harry then felt in his pocket for a wand. There were three in there. He had forgotten, lost track, he could not now remember how he had gotten these wands, he only seemed to remember wrenching them out of someone's hand. One of them he recognised as Y/n's own and he handed it out to him as Y/n silently took it.
Y/n looked down at the stone Harry had placed upon Dobby's grave and pointed his wand towards it now as he moved it in the air, As he did neat scripture carved itself upon the rock to read.
HERE LIES DOBBY, A TRUE FRIEND AND A FREE ELF.
"It's nice..." Was all Harry said. But that was all that was needed.
Y/n just put his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"I'm sorry Y/n..." Harry said.
"Stop." Y/n told him. "What has happened has happened. We cannot change it now."
Harry just nodded solemnly as he and Y/n turned away from the grave, now starting a slow walk back to the cottage.
"Listen Y/n..." Harry started, but was unsure if he should tell Y/n. Would he care? "While we were captured, I saw into his mind again." Harry told him.
"And what did you see?" Y/n asked him calmly.
"He went to Numengrad." Harry said now.
"Gellert..." Y/n said stopping on the spot and so did Harry. "What did he want with him?"
"He kept asking him where something was...but Grindelwald refused to tell him and then he..."
"Killed him?" Y/n asked.
Harry just nodded.
Y/n turned and looked out at the sea lapping on the beach and Harry joined him as both watched in silence.
"It is strange, is it not?" Y/n started after a while. "I hated him my whole life, was ashamed to carry the same name as him. Only met him once for a short while...and yet...I cannot help but feel a little remorse for his loss." Y/n admitted with a sigh. "He was a brave man and in the end died doing the right thing in not giving in to You know who's demands. Perhaps he really did tell me the truth when he said he regretted his choices."
"He said that?" Harry asked.
"It does not matter." Y/n said, turning to the cottage now. "The others will be waiting for us."
They were all sitting in the living room when Y/n and Harry entered the little hall, their attention focused upon Bill, who was talking. The room was light-colored, pretty, with a small fire of driftwood burning brightly in the fireplace. Neither wanted to drop mud upon the carpet, so they stood in the doorway, listening for a moment.
"...lucky that Ginny's on holiday. If she'd been at Hogwarts, they could have taken her before we reached her. Now we know she's safe too."
He looked around and saw both Y/n and Harry standing there.
"I've been getting them all out of the Burrow." he explained to them. "Moved them to Muriel's. The Death Eaters know Ron's with you guys now, they're bound to target the family... don't apologize." he added at the sight of Harry's expression. "It was always a matter of time, Dad's been saying so for months. We're the biggest blood-traitor family there is."
"How are they protected?" asked Harry.
"Fidelius Charm. Dad's Secret-Keeper. And we've done it on this cottage too, I'm Secret-Keeper here. None of us can go to work, but that's hardly the most important thing now. Once Ollivander and Griphook are well enough, we'll move them to Muriel's too. There isn't much room here, but she's got plenty. Griphook's legs are on the mend, Fleur's given him Skele-Gro, we could probably move them in an hour or..."
"No." Harry said, and Bill looked startled. "I need both of them here. I need to talk to them. It's important."
Y/n heard the authority in Harry's own voice, the conviction, the sense of purpose. Whatever it was must be important. The others faces were turned toward Harry, looking puzzled.
"I'm going to wash." Harry told Bill, looking down at his hands, still covered in mud and Dobby's blood. "Then I'll need to see them, straightaway."
Y/n could have used magic to clean them up but he sensed Harry wanted a moment alone and accepted that. He instead drew his wand and waved it over himself, removing the dirt from digging Dobby's grave.
"You've got your wand..." Hermione said, now on her feet.
"Harry took it back." Y/n told her as he entered the room and looked out one of the windows to see that dawn was breaking over the horizon, shell pink and faintly gold.
"We're going to speak to Harry." Bill said getting up now as Fleur followed suit and both left the room to stand outside it at the foot of the stairs.
Harry returned not long after.
"I need to speak to Griphook and Ollivander." He said.
"No." said Fleur. "You will 'ave to wait, 'Arry. Zey are both ill, tired..."
"I'm sorry." he said without heat. "But it can't wait. I need to talk to them now. Privately... and separately. It's urgent."
"Harry, what the hell's going on?" asked Bill. "You turn up here with a dead house-elf and a half-conscious goblin, Y/n looks as though he's been tortured, Hermione is in bits and Ron's just refused to tell me anything..."
"We can't tell you what we're doing." said Harry flatly. "You're in the Order, Bill, you know Dumbledore left us a mission. We're not supposed to talk about it to anyone else."
Fleur made an impatient noise, but Bill did not look at her, he was staring at Harry. His deeply scarred face was hard to read. Finally Bill said. "All right. Who do you want to talk to first?"
Harry hesitated. He knew what hung on his decision. There was hardly any time left, now was the moment to decide: Horcruxes or Hallows?
"Griphook." Harry said. "I'll speak to Griphook first."
His heart was racing as if he had been sprinting and had just cleared an enormous obstacle.
"Up here, then." said Bill, leading the way.
Harry had walked up several steps before stopping and looking back.
"I need you three as well!" he called to Ron, Y/n and Hermione, who looked to him.
The three moved now as they joined Harry on the stairs.
"How are you and Y/n?" Harry asked Hermione.
Hermione gave a weak smile. "We're okay, we just need some rest after this." She told him
"We'll make it as quick as possible so you guys can sleep then." Harry nodded.
"What are we doing now, Harry?" Ron asked.
"You'll see. Come on."
Harry, Ron, Y/n and Hermione followed Bill up the steep stairs onto a small landing. Three doors led off it.
"In here." said Bill, opening the door into his and Fleur's room. It too had a view of the sea, now flecked with gold in the sunrise. Harry moved to the window, turned his back on the spectacular view, and waited, his arms folded, his scar prickling. Hermione made Y/n take the chair beside the dressing table as she sat on the arm. Ron decided to stand with Harry.
Bill reappeared, carrying the little goblin, whom he set down carefully upon the bed. Griphook grunted thanks, and Bill left, closing the door upon them all.
Y/n waved his wand to cast Muffliato as a precaution before he nodded to Harry.
"I'm sorry to take you out of bed." said Harry. "How are your legs?"
"Painful." replied the goblin. "But mending."
He was still clutching the sword of Gryffindor, and wore a strange look, half truculent, half intrigued. Harry noted the goblin's sallow skin, his long thin fingers, his black eyes. Fleur had removed his shoes. His long feet were dirty. He was larger than a house-elf, but not by much. His domed head was much bigger than a human's.
"You probably don't remember..." Harry began.
"That I was the goblin who showed you to your vault, the first time you ever visited Gringotts?" said Griphook. "Or that I was the Goblin who took the blood that made Y/n Grindelwald's vault key and showed him to that vault? I remember, Harry Potter. Even amongst goblins, you are both very famous wizards."
Harry and the goblin looked at each other, sizing each other up. Harry's scar was still prickling. He wanted to get through this interview with Griphook quickly, and at the same time was afraid of making a false move. While he tried to decide on the best way to approach his request, the goblin broke the silence.
"You buried the elf." he said, sounding unexpectedly rancorous. "I watched you from the window of the bedroom next door."
"Yes." said Harry.
Griphook looked at him out of the corners of his slanting black eyes.
"You and Grindelwald are unusual wizards, Harry Potter."
"In what way?" asked Harry, rubbing his scar absently.
"You dug the grave."
"Is that wrong?" Y/n asked speaking up now.
Griphook did not answer. Harry rather thought he was being sneered at for acting like a Muggle, but it did not much matter to him whether Griphook approved of Dobby's grave or not. He gathered himself for the attack.
"Griphook, I need to ask..."
"You also rescued a goblin."
"What?"
"You brought me here. Saved me."
"Well, I take it you're not sorry?" said Harry a little impatiently.
"No, Harry Potter." said Griphook, and with one finger he twisted the thin black beard upon his chin. "But you are a very odd wizard."
"Right." said Harry. "Well, I need some help, Griphook, and you can give it to me."
The goblin made no sign of encouragement, but continued to frown at Harry as though he had never seen anything like him.
"I need to break into a Gringotts vault." Harry said suddenly.
Ron and Hermione were quickly staring at Harry as though he had gone mad, only Y/n seemed unfazed.
"Harry..." said Hermione, but she was cut off by Griphook.
"Break into a Gringotts vault?" repeated the goblin, wincing a little as he shifted his position upon the bed. "It is impossible."
"No, it isn't." Ron contradicted him. "It's been done."
"Yeah." said Harry. "The same day I first met you, Griphook. My birthday, seven years ago."
"The vault in question was empty at the time." snapped the goblin, and Harry understood that even though Griphook had left Gringotts, he was offended at the idea of its defenses being breached. "Its protection was minimal."
"The vault we need to get into is not empty, and the protection upon it will powerful." said Y/n gaining all their attentions now. "It belongs to the Lestranges."
He saw Hermione and Ron look at each other, astonished, while Harry nodded at him he had understood Harry's train of thought. It was the same as his own, but there would be time enough to explain to the other two after Griphook had given his answer.
"We could use this as a means of entrance." Y/n said as he took out the vault key that had been left to him many months ago.
"You have no chance." said Griphook flatly. "The Grindelwald vault is being closely watched, as is your own personal vault. Your parents and Atticus Grindelwald greatly desire the contents inside both, but without the keys...the vaults cannot be opened. All they can do is wait for you to come and try to claim the spoils of the vaults yourself."
"Which would alert them to our presence..." Y/n sighed, putting the key away.
"You all have no chance at all. If you seek beneath our floors, a treasure that was never yours..."
"Thief, you have been warned, beware... yeah, I know, I remember." said Harry. "But I'm not trying to get myself any treasure, I'm not trying to take anything for personal gain. Can you believe that?"
The goblin looked slantwise at Harry, and the lightning scar on Harry's forehead prickled, but he ignored it, refusing to acknowledge its pain or its invitation.
"If there was a wizard of whom I would believe that they did not seek personal gain." said Griphook finally. "It would be you, Harry Potter. Goblins and elves are not used to the protection or the respect that you have shown this night. Not from wand-carriers."
"Wand-carriers?" repeated Harry: The phrase fell oddly upon his ears as his scar prickled, as Voldemort turned his thoughts northward, and as Harry burned to question Ollivander next door.
"The right to carry a wand." said the goblin quietly. "Has long been contested between wizards and goblins."
"Well, goblins can do magic without wands." said Ron.
"That is immaterial! Wizards refuse to share the secrets of wandlore with other magical beings, they deny us the possibility of extending our powers!"
"Well, goblins won't share any of their magic either." said Ron. "You won't tell us how to make swords and armor the way you do. Goblins know how to work metal in a way wizards have never..."
"That is enough..." Y/n stopped them.
"Right now this isn't about wizards versus goblins or any other sort of magical creature..." Harry chimed in.
Griphook gave a nasty laugh.
"But it is, it is about precisely that! As the Dark Lord becomes ever more powerful, your race is set still more firmly above mine! Gringotts falls under Wizarding rule, house-elves are slaughtered, and who amongst the wand-carriers protests?"
"We do!" said Hermione. She had sat up straight, her eyes bright. "We protest! And I'm hunted quite as much as any goblin or elf, Griphook! I'm a Mudblood!"
"Hermione, Do not call yourself..." Y/n started.
"Why shouldn't I?" said Hermione. "Mudblood, and proud of it! I've got no higher position under this new order than you have, Griphook! Did you know that it was Harry and Y/n who set Dobby free?" she asked. "Did you know that we've wanted elves to be freed for years?" Ron fidgeted uncomfortably beside Harry. "You can't want You-Know-Who defeated more than we do, Griphook!"
The goblin gazed at Hermione with the same curiosity he had shown Harry.
"What do you seek within the Lestranges' vault?" he asked abruptly. "The sword that lies inside it is a fake. This is the real one." He looked from one to the other of them. "I think that you already know this. You asked me to lie for you back there."
"The fake sword is not the only thing in that vault, is it?" asked Y/n. "Perhaps you have seen the other things in there?"
Y/n said, leaning forward in his chair slightly.
The goblin twisted his beard around his finger again.
"It is against our code to speak of the secrets of Gringotts. We are the guardians of fabulous treasures. We have a duty to the objects placed in our care, which were, so often, wrought by our fingers."
The goblin stroked the sword, and his black eyes roved from Harry to Y/n to Hermione to Ron and then back again.
"So young." he said finally. "To be fighting so many."
"Will you help us?" said Harry. "We haven't got a hope of breaking in without a goblin's help. You're our one chance."
"I shall... think about it." said Griphook maddeningly.
"But..." Ron started angrily but Harry nudged him in the ribs.
"Thank you." said Harry.
The goblin bowed his great domed head in acknowledgement, then flexed his short legs.
"I think." he said, settling himself ostentatiously upon Bill and Fleur's bed. "That the Skele-Gro has finished its work. I may be able to sleep at last. Forgive me..."
"Yeah, of course." said Harry, but before leaving the room he leaned forward and took the sword of Gryffindor from beside the goblin. Griphook did not protest, but Harry thought he saw resentment in the goblin's eyes as he closed the door upon him.
"Little git." whispered Ron. "He's enjoying keeping us hanging."
"Harry, Y/n." whispered Hermione, pulling them both away from the door, into the middle of the still-dark landing. "Are you saying what I think you're saying? Are you saying there's a Horcrux in the Lestranges' vault?"
"Yes." said Harry and Y/n nodded.
"Bellatrix was terrified when she thought we had been in there." Y/n pointed out. "So I wondered. Why? What did she think we had seen? What else did she think we might have taken? Something she was petrified You-Know-Who would find out about."
"But I thought we were looking for places You-Know-Who's been, places he's done something important?" said Ron, looking baffled. "Was he ever inside the Lestranges' vault?"
"I don't know whether he was ever inside Gringotts." said Harry. "He never had gold there when he was younger, because nobody left him anything. He would have seen the bank from the outside, though, the first time he ever went to Diagon Alley. I think he would have envied anyone who had a key to a Gringotts vault. I think he'd have seen it as a real symbol of belonging to the Wizarding world. And don't forget, he trusted Bellatrix and her husband. They, amongst Y/n's parents, were his most devoted servants before he fell, and they went looking for him after he vanished. He said it the night he came back, we heard him."
Harry rubbed his scar.
"I do not think he would have told Bellatrix it was a Horcrux however." Y/n interjected now. "He after all never told Lucius Malfoy the truth about the diary. He probably told her it was a treasured possession and asked her to place it in her vault."
"The safest place in the world for anything you want to hide, Hagrid told me ...except for Hogwarts." Harry finished.
"That...That makes a lot of sense..." Hermione said, amazed at Y/n and Harry's deductions.
Ron shook his head. "It's like being with Dumbledore with you sometimes." He said to Y/n. "And you really understand him." He then said to Harry referring to Voldemort.
"Bits of him." said Harry. "Bits...I just wish I'd understood Dumbledore as much. But we'll see. Come on...Ollivander now."
Ron and Hermione looked bewildered but impressed as they followed him and Y/n across the little landing and knocked upon the door opposite Bill and Fleur's. A weak "Come in!" answered them.
The wandmaker was lying on the twin bed farthest from the window. He had been held in the cellar for more than a year, and tortured, Harry knew, on at least one occasion. He was emaciated, the bones of his face sticking out sharply against the yellowish skin. His great eyes seemed vast in their sunken sockets. The hands that lay upon the blanket could have belonged to a skeleton. Harry sat down on the empty bed, beside Ron, Y/n and Hermione. The rising sun was not visible here. The room faced the cliff-top garden and the freshly dug grave.
"Mr. Ollivander, I'm sorry to disturb you." Harry said.
"My dear boy." Ollivander's voice was feeble. "You rescued us. I thought we would die in that place. I can never thank you...never thank you...enough."
"We were glad to do it."
Harry's scar throbbed. He knew, he was certain, that there was hardly any time left in which to beat Voldemort to his goal, or else to attempt to thwart him. He felt a flutter of panic...yet he had made his decision when he chose to speak to Griphook first. Feigning a calm he did not feel, he groped in the pouch around his neck and took out the two halves of his broken wand.
"Mr. Ollivander, I need some help."
"Anything. Anything." said the wandmaker weakly.
"Can you mend this? Is it possible?"
Ollivander held out a trembling hand, and Harry placed the two barely connected halves into his palm.
"Holly and phoenix feather." said Ollivander in a tremulous voice. "Eleven inches. Nice and supple."
"Yes." said Harry. "Can you..."
"No." whispered Ollivander. "I am sorry, very sorry, but a wand that has suffered this degree of damage cannot be repaired by any means that I know of."
Harry had been braced to hear it, but it was a blow nevertheless. He took the wand halves back and replaced them in the pouch around his neck. Ollivander stared at the place where the shattered wand had vanished, and did not look away until Harry had taken from his pocket the two other wands he had brought from the Malfoys'.
"Can you identify these?" Harry asked.
The wandmaker took the first of the wands and held it close to his faded eyes, rolling it between his knobble-knuckled fingers, flexing it slightly.
"Walnut and dragon heartstring." he said. "Twelve-and-three-quarter inches. Unyielding. This wand belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange."
"And this one?"
Ollivander performed the same examination.
"Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Ten inches precisely. Reasonably springy. This was the wand of Draco Malfoy."
"Was?" repeated Harry. "Isn't it still his?"
"Perhaps not. If you took it..."
"I did."
"Then it may be yours. Of course, the manner of taking matters. Much also depends upon the wand itself. In general, however, where a wand has been won, its allegiance will change."
There was silence in the room, except for the distant rushing of the sea.
"You talk about wands like they've got feelings." said Harry. "Like they can think for themselves."
"The wand chooses the wizard." said Ollivander. "That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore."
"A person can still use a wand that hasn't chosen them, though?" asked Harry.
"Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand."
"What about my wand?" Y/n spoke up now as curiosity got the better of him.
Ollivander looked at him now, seemingly only recognising him properly now. "Grindelwald..." He said fearfully for a moment before realizing this was Y/n not Atticus.
Y/n took his wand and handed it out to the man.
Ollivander took it. "Yew wood...Thestral hair...9 Inches...yes, it is just as I remember."
"You just said that even if a wand does not align itself with a wizard they can use it to perform magic. But my wand has refused to cast spells for any other but myself." Y/n said taking back his wand and handing it to Hermione.
"L..Lumos." She tried to cast, but nothing happened.
She passed the wand to Ron who tried now. "Lumos!" He cast, but again nothing happened.
Ron shrugged and handed it back to Y/n. "Lumos..." Y/n said as the end of the wand brightly lit up before he put it out.
"That wand was only ever a prototype..." Ollivander said now. "It never showed signs of working in decades of attempts. It had become something of a joke. Whenever I had tricky-to-pair customers, I would have them try this wand to see if it would give any reaction. But not a single Wizard or Witch could make it do a thing...not until you handled it seven years ago Mr Grindelwald. When it showed its allegiance to you...I could not believe my eyes. I knew that it was extraordinary. Dumbledore even showed curiosity towards it when he saw the wand for himself."
"Dumbledore did?" Harry asked as Y/n looked at his wand.
"Because of its unique core Mr Potter." Ollivander answered. "When Dumbledore heard it at the Wand Weighing in the Tri-wizard tournament he asked me about it immediately with great interest."
The sea gushed forward and backward, it was a mournful sound.
"I took this wand from Draco Malfoy by force." said Harry now changing the topic slightly. "Can I use it safely?"
"I think so. Subtle laws govern wand ownership, but the conquered wand will usually bend its will to its new master."
"So I should use this one?" said Ron, pulling Wormtail's wand out of his pocket and handing it to Ollivander.
"Chestnut and dragon heartstring. Nine-and-a-quarter inches. Brittle. I was forced to make this shortly after my kidnapping, for Peter Pettigrew. Yes, if you won it, it is more likely to do your bidding, and do it well, than another wand."
"And this holds true for all wands, does it?" asked Harry.
"I think so." replied Ollivander, his protuberant eyes upon Harry's face. "You ask deep questions, Mr. Potter. Wandlore is a complex and mysterious branch of magic."
"So, it isn't necessary to kill the previous owner to take true possession of a wand?" asked Harry.
Ollivander swallowed.
"Necessary? No, I should not say that it is necessary to kill."
"There are legends, though." said Harry, and as his heart rate quickened, the pain in his scar became more intense, he was sure that Voldemort had decided to put his idea into action. "Legends about a wand... or wands... that have passed from hand to hand by murder."
Ollivander turned pale. Against the snowy pillow he was light gray, and his eyes were enormous, bloodshot, and bulging with what looked like fear.
"Only one wand, I think." he whispered.
"And You-Know-Who is interested in it, isn't he?" asked Harry.
"I... how?" croaked Ollivander, and he looked appealingly at Ron, Y/n and Hermione for help. "How do you know this?"
"He wanted you to tell him how to overcome the connection between our wands." said Harry.
Ollivander looked terrified.
"He tortured me, you must understand that! The Cruciatus Curse, I...I had no choice but to tell him what I knew, what I guessed!"
"I understand." Harry reassured him. "You told him about the twin cores? You said he just had to borrow another wizard's wand?"
Ollivander looked horrified, transfixed, by the amount that Harry knew. He nodded slowly.
"But it didn't work." Harry went on. "Mine still beat the borrowed wand. Do you know why that is?"
Ollivander shook his head as slowly as he had just nodded.
"I had...never heard of such a thing. Your wand performed something unique that night. The connection of the twin cores is incredibly rare, yet why your wand should have snapped the borrowed wand, I do not know..."
"We were talking about the other wand, the wand that changes hands by murder. When You-Know-Who realized my wand had done something strange, he came back and asked about that other wand, didn't he?"
"How do you know this?"
Harry did not answer.
"Yes, he asked." whispered Ollivander. "He wanted to know everything I could tell him about the wand variously known as the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, or the Elder Wand."
Harry glanced sideways at Hermione. She looked flabbergasted.
"The Dark Lord." said Ollivander in hushed and frightened tones. "Had always been happy with the wand I made him...yew and phoenix feather, thirteen-and-a-half inches... until he discovered the connection of the twin cores. Now he seeks another, more powerful wand, as the only way to conquer yours."
"But he'll know soon, if he doesn't already, that mine's broken beyond repair." said Harry quietly.
"No!" said Hermione, sounding frightened. "He can't know that, Harry, how could he..."
"Priori Incantatem." said Harry. "We left your wand and the blackthorn wand at the Malfoys', Hermione. If they examine them properly, make them re-create the spells they've cast lately, they'll see that yours broke mine, they'll see that you tried and failed to mend it, and they'll realize that I've been using the blackthorn one ever since."
The little color she had regained since their arrival had drained from her face. Y/n gave Harry a reproachful look, and said. "Let us not worry about that now..."
But Mr. Ollivander intervened.
"The Dark Lord no longer seeks the Elder Wand only for your destruction, Mr. Potter. He is determined to possess it because he believes it will make him truly invulnerable."
"And will it?" Y/n asked.
"The owner of the Elder Wand must always fear attack." said Ollivander. "But the idea of the Dark Lord in possession of the Deathstick is, I must admit...formidable."
Harry was suddenly reminded of how he had been unsure, when they first met, of how much he liked Ollivander. Even now, having been tortured and imprisoned by Voldemort, the idea of the Dark wizard in possession of this wand seemed to enthrall him as much as it repulsed him.
"You... you really think this wand exists, then, Mr. Ollivander?" asked Hermione.
"Oh yes." said Ollivander. "Yes, it is perfectly possible to trace the wand's course through history. There are gaps, of course, and long ones, where it vanishes from view, temporarily lost or hidden, but always it resurfaces. It has certain identifying characteristics that those who are learned in wandlore recognize. There are written accounts, some of them obscure, that I and other wandmakers have made it our business to study. They have the ring of authenticity. In fact, Mr Grindewald's wand was made in imitation of the wand."
"It was?" Y/n asked.
"The elder wand is the only wand known to have a Thestral core...till your wand started to work that is." Ollivander told him.
"So you...you don't think it can be a fairy tale or a myth?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"No." said Ollivander. "Whether it needs to pass by murder, I do not know. Its history is bloody, but that may be simply due to the fact that it is such a desirable object, and arouses such passions in wizards. Immensely powerful, dangerous in the wrong hands, and an object of incredible fascination to all of us who study the power of wands."
"Mr. Ollivander." said Harry. "You told You-Know-Who that Gregorovitch had the Elder Wand, didn't you?"
Ollivander turned, if possible, even paler. He looked ghostly as he gulped.
"But how...how do you..."
"Never mind how I know it." said Harry, closing his eyes momentarily as his scar burned and he saw, for mere seconds, a vision of the main street in Hogsmeade, still dark, because it was so much farther north. "You told You-Know-Who that Gregorovitch had the wand?"
"It was a rumor." whispered Ollivander. "A rumor, years and years ago, long before you were born! I believe Gregorovitch himself started it. You can see how good it would be for business, that he was studying and duplicating the qualities of the Elder Wand! I cannot say I had not tried the same but I kept it a secret at least!"
"Yes, I can see that." said Harry. He stood up. "Mr. Ollivander, one last thing, and then we'll let you get some rest. What do you know about the Deathly Hallows?"
"The...the what?" asked the wandmaker, looking utterly bewildered.
"The Deathly Hallows."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. Is this still something to do with wands?"
Harry looked into the sunken face and believed that Ollivander was not acting. He did not know about the Hallows.
"Thank you." said Harry. "Thank you very much. We'll leave you to get some rest now."
Ollivander looked stricken.
"He was torturing me!" he gasped. "The Cruciatus Curse...you have no idea..."
"We do." said Harry looking to Y/n for a moment. "We really do. Please get some rest. Thank you for telling me all of this."
He led Ron, Y/n and Hermione down the staircase. Harry caught a glimpse of Bill, Fleur, Luna, and Dean sitting at the table in the kitchen, cups of tea in front of them. They all looked up at Harry as he appeared in the doorway, but he merely nodded to them and continued into the garden, Ron, Y/n and Hermione behind him. The reddish mound of earth that covered Dobby lay ahead, and Harry walked back to it, as the pain in his head built more and more powerfully. It was a huge effort now to close down the visions that were forcing themselves upon him, but he knew that he would have to resist only a little longer. He would yield very soon, because he needed to know that his theory was right. He must make only one more short effort, so that he could explain to Ron and Hermione.
"Gregorovitch had the Elder Wand a long time ago." he said. "I saw You-Know-Who trying to find him. When he tracked him down, he found that Gregorovitch didn't have it anymore. It was stolen from him by Y/n's great uncle Gellert Grindelwald. How Gellert found out that Gregorovitch had it, I don't know...but if Gregorovitch was stupid enough to spread the rumor, it can't have been that difficult."
Voldemort was at the gates of Hogwarts, Harry could see him standing there, and see too the lamp bobbing in the pre-dawn, coming closer and closer.
"And Gellert used the Elder Wand to become powerful. And at the height of his power, when Dumbledore knew he was the only one who could stop him, he dueled him and beat him, and he took the Elder Wand."
"Dumbledore had the Elder Wand?" said Ron. "But then...where is it now?"
"At Hogwarts." said Harry, fighting to remain with them in the cliff-top garden.
"But then, let's go!" said Ron urgently. "Harry, let's go and get it before he does!"
"It's too late for that." said Harry. He could not help himself, but clutched his head, trying to help it resist. "He knows where it is. He's there now."
"Harry!" Ron said furiously. "How long have you known this...why have we been wasting time? Why did you talk to Griphook first? We could have gone...we could still go..."
"No." said Harry, and he sank to his knees in the grass. "Y/n and Hermione are right. Dumbledore didn't want me to have it. He didn't want me to take it. He wanted me to get the Horcruxes."
"The unbeatable wand, Harry!" moaned Ron.
"I'm not supposed to...I'm supposed to get the Horcruxes..."
"Rest..." Harry heard Y/n's voice say and now everything was cool and dark.
The sun was barely visible over the horizon as he glided alongside Snape, up through the grounds toward the lake.
"I shall join you in the castle shortly." he said in his high, cold voice. "Leave me now."
Snape bowed and set off back up the path, his black cloak billowing behind him. Harry walked slowly, waiting for Snape's figure to disappear. It would not do for Snape, or indeed anyone else, to see where he was going. But there were no lights in the castle windows, and he could conceal himself...and in a second he had cast upon himself a Disillusionment Charm that hide him even from his own eyes.
And he walked on, around the edge of the lake, taking in the outlines of the beloved castle, his first kingdom, his birthright...
And here it was, beside the lake, reflected in the dark waters. The white marble tomb, an unnecessary blot on the familiar landscape. He felt again that rush of controlled euphoria, that heady sense of purpose in destruction. He raised the old yew wand. How fitting that this would be its last great act.
The tomb split open from head to foot. The shrouded figure was as long and thin as it had been in life. He raised the wand again.
The wrappings fell open. The face was translucent, pale, sunken, yet almost perfectly preserved. They had left his spectacles on the crooked nose: He felt amused derision. Dumbledore's hands were folded upon his chest, and there it lay, clutched beneath them, buried with him.
Had the old fool imagined that marble or death would protect the wand? Had he thought that the Dark Lord would be scared to violate his tomb? The spiderlike hand swooped and pulled the wand from Dumbledore's grasp, and as he took it, a shower of sparks flew from its tip, sparkling over the corpse of its last owner, ready to serve a new master at last.