Finding The Nail

“Okay, so what about this,” Harry suggested. “We go to the wedding, but we stay under the Invisibility Cloak the whole time; we track down Bill so he knows we’re there, and-”

“Harry, I’m not going to hide at my brother’s wedding,” Ginny interrupted. “Besides, you, me and Hermione will never fit under the cloak,” she added, the corners of her mouth twitching.

Harry grinned. “Okay, fine. I notice you didn’t include Fred and George in that.”

“Huh. Those two prats can fend for themselves.”

“Wow, I missed a lot not having siblings,” Harry said wryly. “Can I still use the cloak?”

Ginny slapped his arm. “Harry!”

“What? I’m perfectly happy to hide!” Ginny hit him again. “Ow! Okay, okay! We’ll go in plain sight.” He paused. “Polyjuice? Ow!”

“Did I marry a coward?” Ginny asked rhetorically, shaking her stinging hand a bit.

“Oh, I’m just kidding,” Harry said with a chuckle. “But really, I don’t think there’s anything we can do but just…show up.”

“I know. I’ll owl Bill to tell mum and dad we’re coming. At least that way they’ll get the yelling out of the way beforehand. Maybe if we’re lucky then we can just avoid them for the day.”

“Good idea.” Harry sighed. “We’re going to need to keep close to Hermione, too. She’s not going to do well by herself; even if your parents don’t go after her, she probably won’t handle it well, seeing a brother of Ron’s getting married.”

“Yeah,” Ginny agreed sadly. “It was bad enough for her at our wedding; mum and dad are going to make it a lot worse.”

“Maybe just Hermione should use the cloak?” Harry suggested, not completely joking.

“Well…I suppose you could offer it to her. But I doubt she’ll take it, she’s stubborn like that.”

“Really?” Harry retorted, barely managing to keep a straight face.

There was a knock at the door. Harry and Ginny both went to answer it; “Hey Fred, what’s going on?” Harry said.

“Not much,” Fred said. “Luna dragged George back to her room to do things I’d rather poke out my own eyes than deal with, so I have to get back to the shop before one of our oh-so reliable employees runs us into the ground. I just wanted to give you this,” he said, waving a few sheets of parchment. “It’s the list you asked me and George to put together, of the stuff that Dung – er, borrowed and is hunting down. Dung showed up a bit ago with another sack of stuff, and I decided to just finish the last of it.” He held out the parchment. “Everything Dung’s brought back is on here. He said there’s not much left out there, too, so you can add it as it comes in.”

“Thanks a lot, Fred,” Harry said, taking the parchments from Fred’s hand. “Was there anything interesting in the stuff Dung just gave you?”

Fred shrugged. “Not really, just more of the same; a few silver plates, some horrible old goblet made from a house-elf’s skull – better keep that one out of Hermione’s sight – a teapot that whistles some ancient song when the water’s hot, a dull old locket, and a book of old hexes there’s no cures for. By the way, can I borrow the book? Looks like a good read.”

Ginny almost made a snide retort when she noticed that Harry had gone completely white and was gaping at Fred. “Fred, did- did you say an old locket?” Harry stammered.

Fred raised his eyebrows when Ginny gasped. “Er…yeah, it’s boring. It didn’t even have ornamentation, just- what?” he asked when Harry and Ginny exchanged an astounded look.

“Fred, show us the locket. Right now,” Harry said shortly, spinning Fred and marching him down the hall.

“I need to get to the shop-” Fred protested.

“This is more important!” Ginny said sharply, drawing her wand and removing the Locking Charm on the room containing the Black family tapestry; Harry had asked Fred and George to store all the belongings Mundungus retrieved in there. Ginny pushed Fred into the room and Harry followed, shutting the door behind them. “Come on, Fred, where is it?”

“Over there,” Fred answered with a shrug, gesturing to a shelf where a sack had been unceremoniously dumped. “In the bag.”

Harry and Ginny ran to the shelf and Ginny grabbed the bag. She dropped to her knees and upended the sack, causing the contents to fall in a heap on the floor. Harry knelt beside her and they started carelessly shoving aside random objects, searching for the locket. Fred watched in bewilderment for a few moments before Ginny let out a long breath and whispered “Here it is…”

The locket really was dull. It was a simple black oval, the surface of which was poorly buffed and rough-looking. There was a plain silver setting with a bit of ornamentation on top, through which a basic, boring silver chain had been looped. It looked ancient, mainly because no one in the modern world, wizard or muggle, would design something so utterly unattractive. “Lovely,” Fred said with a bright smile. “A wedding gift for Fleur, then?”

Harry and Ginny ignored him. “Do- do you think its-?” Ginny asked hesitantly.

“The ring was dull too,” Harry said, his eyes never leaving the locket, which Ginny was holding by its chain. “It could be…” He reached out to touch the locket, but the moment his finger brushed it he cringed; “Aah!” he shouted, the palms of both hands flying to his forehead.

“Harry!” Ginny exclaimed. “What-”

“It’s my scar,” Harry said tightly through gritted teeth. “First time it’s done this in over a year!” He smiled at Ginny, although it was more of a grimace. “I don’t think we have to worry about identifying the- them, if this is what happens when I touch one.”

“I don’t believe it,” Ginny said faintly. “He brought it here, and-”

“Ginny,” Harry interrupted, “don’t say any more, not here. Let’s find Hermione and go to the conference room.”

“Right.” She and Harry stood, and Ginny carefully pocketed the locket as though she thought it might explode. Leaving the other objects where they’d been scattered, they turned to Fred, who was still looking at them like they’d gone mad. “Fred, don’t tell anyone about this, understand?” Ginny asked.

“Reveal that my own sister has such horrendous taste in jewelry?” Fred replied. “Perish the thought!”

“This is no joke, Fred,” Harry said sharply. “It’s too important. Voldemort can’t hear about this!”

“Voldemort cares about an ugly old locket? Well I suppose it makes sense, those Death Eater robes are just hideous…”

Harry drew his wand. “Fred, you don’t have to understand it – Voldemort would, if he heard. Don’t make me Obliviate you to keep this a secret.”

Fred gulped, the seriousness of the situation finally impressed upon him by the tip of Harry’s wand. “Okay, okay. I promise I won’t tell anyone about the locket, no matter what.”

“About time!” Ginny shoved her brother toward the door. “Go on, piss off back to the shop. And don’t expect to see us for the rest of the night – I get the feeling we’re going to be busy.”

*****

Hermione was sitting in the conference room, searching through a book for the answer to what was going wrong with a potion she was working on. She’d been down in the basement, but Pansy was there and had been acting insufferably; Hermione knew it was a reaction to seeing Harry’s vision of Voldemort, but eventually she couldn’t keep her temper, had given up trying to be friendly and retreated upstairs.

Hermione realized with annoyance that she was rereading the same page for the fourth or fifth time, and closed the book with a sigh. Her concentration over the last two weeks had been almost nonexistent for any subject other than reviving Ron; she had learned to put up a very convincing front, but the fact was Hermione’s resolve was on the verge of collapsing; the longer it took, the less patience Hermione had.
She found herself more and more resenting Harry for relentlessly insisting she split her attentions. It was horribly unfair of her, but she couldn’t help but think that if Harry was truly Ron’s friend, he’d be dedicating everything to Ron’s cure, all the D.A. members, all their resources. Logically she knew that Harry had to keep focused on the larger concern of defeating Voldemort, but her logic was faltering in the face of what she’d finally admitted was love.

The admission was the worst; Hermione had fought her feelings for Ron for years, first because of her previous experiences with friendship, then because she was certain he didn’t feel the same. And even when Ron had said how he’d felt – and she should have known instantly it was true, Ron was a horrible liar – she’d not only refused to say it back, she’d told him she didn’t believe he meant it. Over time she’d realized that Harry had been right; she could not have said anything more hurtful. And when she’d finally accepted that Ron really did care, it was too late to tell him.
That was what had driven her at first, the burning need to tell Ron she believed him, to apologize and mend the hurt she’d caused. But that was quickly overwhelmed by an even greater guilt; that she hadn’t admitted she love Ron as well. Years of friendship, loyalty and trust between them, and Hermione, who’d been so proud to be sorted into Gryffindor, hadn’t found the courage to tell one of her closest friends how much he meant to her.

She was about to retrieve the special book on Curses, Sawol Immortalis, from the box it was sealed inside, when there was a knock on the door. Hermione turned, surprised; she’d forgotten that the door was open – another lapse she mentally kicked herself for. Lavender Brown was standing in the doorway, looking incredibly unnerved. “H-Hermione? Can- can I talk to you? Please?”

“Of course.” Hermione and Lavender had mostly avoided each other since Lavender rejoined the D.A.; neither of them had really forgiven the other for the previous year as it pertained to Ron. But although Hermione wasn’t fond of Lavender, she couldn’t ignore the obvious strain on the other girl’s face, and the tense way she was carrying her body. “What’s going on?”

Lavender looked ready to bolt, but instead she slipped in the door and closed it behind her, sealing the room from the outside. She sat down in the chair across from Hermione. “I- I needed to talk and I would have gone to Harry, but he’s talking with Ginny and I didn’t want to interrupt them, and I saw you come in here by yourself and I thought…” Her voice trailed off and she dropped her gaze to her hands which were wringing themselves in her lap.

“Lavender, what is it?” Hermione asked. When Lavender didn’t answer she grew slightly alarmed. “Lavender?”

“I want to be Obliviated!” Lavender burst out.

“You- you what?” Hermione was stunned. She hadn’t really expected anyone to take Harry’s offer seriously. “You can’t mean that…”
“Of course I do!” Furious, humiliated tears flowed from Lavender’s eyes. “I can’t stand this any more, I’m scared and I’m no use here and I just want to forget I ever came! All the people I know are getting hurt and I’m afraid it’ll be me next! I tried to convince Parvati to leave too…” She dragged her sleeve across her face, an unusual action from the fastidious, fashion-conscious Lavender. “H-Harry was serious, wasn’t he? He will do it, right?”

“I-” Completely against all logic, Hermione found herself angry at Harry. Why was she saddled with this discussion? Was he leading them or not? “He was serious, yes; but Lavender, surely you can’t really want to leave your closest friends! Everyone here has thought of quitting at some point. I certainly have, many times. That doesn’t mean you have to leave; I haven’t, and I don’t intend to.”

“Sure, you can say that,” Lavender muttered with a bitter laugh. “You have to stay because of-” Lavender’s hand slapped over her mouth, and she stared in horror at Hermione. “Oh- oh no!” she gasped. “Hermione, I’m so sorry, I never should have- I didn’t mean anything!”

Hermione was so furious her vision was tinged red. She drew her wand without thinking, and it was all she could do not to hex Lavender into a wet, sticky puddle of coward-goo. She couldn’t even think straight. Two weeks of almost no sleep, every waking hour filled with sorrow and guilt, had stretched her as thin as she’d ever been in her life – and Lavender’s thoughtless words pushed her over the edge. Her expression so frightened Lavender that the other girl leapt back out of her chair, whimpering. Hermione stood slowly, her wand pointed at Lavender’s chest. “Is that what everyone thinks?” she snapped. “Everyone’s having a laugh about me and Ron behind my back, that we were sickening? Or maybe- maybe you think I’m to blame? That I only care in hindsight?” She blinked her eyes to try to clear away the blur in her sight, and her grip on her wand tightened. “Did you h-hate me, Lavender? Is that why you and R-Ron…? You knew how I felt, I told you and Parvati often enough! Wh-what did I ever do to you?”

A part of Hermione knew she was being completely ridiculous, that her pent-up fears and regrets were getting the better of her. But as she was on the verge of backing down, Lavender stupidly stammered out “N-nothing, I swear! I just d-d-didn’t think you s-suited him…”

“You’ve got a lot of bloody nerve judging me!” Hermione roared. “You never even cared about Ron! You used him! You’re a- a slut!”

Lavender shrieked in terror as sparks flew from Hermione’s wand. She spun, yanked open the door and fled. Hermione made to follow, but when she passed through the door she was stopped by hands gripping her shoulders. She tore her gaze from Lavender’s retreating form and saw Harry and Ginny holding her back, staring in utter shock. “Hermione! What- what happened?” Harry asked. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Harry, I’m through!” Hermione announced furiously. “I’m quitting my job, and I’m not doing anything else but searching for a cure to wake Ron!”