Be Careful
57: Why You Strike
By Anne B. Walsh
Harry opened his eyes. He was lying in a bottom bunk in the tent, aching all over, his arm and his chest burning. From the small noises nearby, he wasn’t alone.
He rolled onto his side, stared at what he was seeing, and fumbled for his glasses, finding them perched on the table above the bed and putting them on.
What he was seeing didn’t change.
I’m not sure whether to douse them with water or say, "Well, finally."
He settled for a middle approach. "Have I come at a bad time?" he said, or tried to say. His voice was hoarse and raspy, as though he’d been screaming.
Ron and Hermione broke off their clinch instantly. "Harry!" Hermione gasped, flinging herself at him. "Harry, thank heaven, you’re all right!"
"Good to see you back, Harry," said Ron from behind her, grinning.
"And you." Harry sorted through his memories, finding the last ones that were his own rather than Voldemort’s. "You killed the snake."
"Sure did." Ron grimaced. "Got something else too, though."
"What?"
Hermione let go and timidly picked up an object sitting on the floor beside the bed.
Harry’s stomach plummeted as he stared at what was left of his wand.
"I’m really sorry, mate," Ron said. "I was a bit panicked, I didn’t aim as well as I should’ve—you can use mine whenever you need to—"
"Ron." Harry coughed painfully after the word, and Hermione Summoned a glass of water from the kitchen. He drank, then looked up at his friend; he knew he should be angry, but somehow Ron’s mere presence, along with the knowledge of Nagini’s death, insulated him. "Stop apologizing for saving my life."
"I’m not. I’m apologizing for ruining your wand."
"That was an accident. Like it was when your wand got snapped, back in second year." Harry found a small smile somewhere. "Maybe we can get Vol—"
"No!" Hermione and Ron shouted in chorus. Harry stopped, blinking at them.
"I know, Harry, I still think it’s silly, but there’s a real reason for it now," Hermione said rapidly, and explained about the Taboo, with Ron chiming in when he thought she hadn’t said something quite the right way.
"All right," Harry said when they were finished. "Maybe we can get You-Know-Who to try something with my wand and blow it up on himself." He smiled a bit more. "Which of you thought to set the house on fire before we left? Or was that an accident too?"
Ron and Hermione traded looks. "Harry, the house wasn’t on fire when we left," Hermione said. "It was perfectly sound, there was just a dead snake in one of the bedrooms."
"Are you sure?" Harry closed his eyes, thinking. "A spell didn’t ricochet and spark something off?"
"I was the only one throwing spells," said Ron. "And it didn’t ricochet, it just did what I meant it to do—and a bit I didn’t. But no fire. Why?"
"Because the house was definitely on fire when he got there." Harry swallowed against the taste the dreams had left behind in his mouth. "I was him. I saw it. Heard it. Heard a girl shout a spell from inside just before I blew the door open, heard a boy say two spells on my way up the stairs, and saw a boy and a girl disappearing from the floor just as I got to the bedroom..."
"Harry," said Hermione in a worried tone. Harry opened his eyes to see her peering closely at him. "None of that was us. We were gone before he ever got there."
"I know." Harry nodded slowly. "But I know what I saw too. There were definitely two people in that house who vanished just as Vol—" He bit his tongue as Ron made frantic gestures at him. "As You-Know-Who got there."
"You said they disappeared from the floor?" Hermione said. "How do you mean?"
"They were lying flat on the floor." Harry demonstrated with his hands. "Side by side. Their heads were covered with a cloak, he never saw who they were, he thought boy and girl from what he could see of their bodies and what he knows—he thinks it was you and me, Hermione, it’s why he was so angry, because he thought he missed us by a fraction of a second..."
"But that doesn’t make sense," Hermione objected. "You can’t Apparate lying down, you have to be moving. Unless they had a Portkey—but why would they lie down to use it?"
"I’m more interested in who they are," said Ron. "Maybe the girl’s the one who sent me that Patronus."
Harry frowned. "What Patronus?"
Retelling Ron’s story, including "Tell Potter his sister’s a Slytherin," took nearly half an hour, during which time Hermione made tea and pulled the last of the bread and cheese out of the cupboards. Between bites and sips, Harry and Hermione took turns recounting their own story, until they got to the night just past. Ron sat up straight when Harry mentioned the mysterious box addressed to all three of them. "What’d you do with it?" he asked.
"Put it in my bag," Hermione said, Summoning it over her shoulder. Harry tried to suppress a stab of jealousy and was partially successful. "Here, let me get it out—"
A moment later, the white box reposed in Hermione’s lap. Ron peered at it. "Does it say who sent it?"
"No, but I’m sure I’ve seen this handwriting before!" Hermione drummed her fingers on the top of the box in frustration. "It’s someone I know from school, from Hogwarts, I just know it!"
"Maybe there’s a name inside," Harry suggested. "Why don’t we open it?"
Hermione found the catch and flipped open the top.
Inside the box were three smaller boxes, one labeled with each of their names. Crumpled paper filled the rest of the space, and an envelope reposed on top.
"Ooh, gimme," said Ron, reaching for his box.
Hermione slapped his hand away. "You always open the card first, Ron! Honestly, where were you raised?"
"In a burrow," Ron said, grinning. "Harry, care to do the honors?"
Harry accepted the envelope from Hermione, noting in passing that it was addressed as the box had been: To Harry and Hermione, and Ron if you’re there. Slitting it open, he pulled out a sheet of parchment wrapped around another envelope.
"Who’s that one to?" Ron asked.
Harry unfolded the parchment to look. "Addressed to ‘Daddy,’" he said. "Guess we’ll find out who that is when we read the letter."
Hermione flipped the lid of the big box shut again and pulled the holly, with its oddly-shaped orange ornament, free. "I’ve seen this before," she said slowly. "Or something like it—Ron!"
"What?"
"Did you say you thought you recognized the girl’s voice? The one who sent the Patronus?"
"I’m sure I did, why?"
"Because I think I know now who addressed this box." Hermione was starting to smile. "Harry, look at the signature on the letter. See who wrote it."
Harry skimmed down past several paragraphs of writing to the large, swirling name inscribed above a lifelike colored pencil drawing. "Got it."
"Everyone say it on the count of three," Hermione ordered. "One, two, three—"
"Luna," they said in semi-unison.
"But what’s Luna doing leaving us Christmas presents?" Ron asked. "And how’d she know where you were going to be?"
"Maybe she says," said Harry, rattling the letter. "Shall I read it?"
"Yes, please do." Hermione settled in to listen.
"‘Dear Harry and Hermione, and Ron if you’re there,’" Harry read aloud. "‘I should start by telling you that I’m perfectly all right, even though the Death Eaters took me off the Hogwarts Express on my way home for Christmas—’"
"What?" shouted Ron and Hermione together.
"They kidnapped her?" Ron blurted.
"Why would they do that?" Hermione wanted to know.
"‘—because of what Daddy’s been writing in The Quibbler about you, Harry,’" that young man finished. "‘He’ll be worried about me, so if it’s not too much trouble, could you please take him the letter I’ve enclosed here? It will tell him that I’m all right, and that he should go into hiding. I’m hoping Ron’s family will help him with that, since we’re nearly neighbors.’"
"That’s true," said Ron. "I’ve never been there, but they do live close by us."
"‘I truly am all right here where I am,’" Harry went on. "‘I’ve found an unexpected friend who is keeping me safe. The Death Eaters destroyed his family and ruined his life, so he hates them as much as we do. He’s been working to find things that will help bring them down, and some of them are enclosed here. I hope you can find a good use for them.’ Find things?" he interrupted himself. "You don’t think she means..."
"Probably too much to hope for, Harry," said Hermione with a sigh. "This is Luna, after all. But go on, keep reading."
"‘Hermione’s present is something I hope you can use sometime soon,’" Harry continued. "‘Neville and Ginny and I and some of the others have been keeping up the DA, but it would really help us a lot if we could borrow your Map, Harry. I know it was your dad’s and your godfather’s, but we would be very careful with it and return it when everything is over. If you would consider lending it to us, that would be a great help. The Hogsmeade days this term are the seventeenth of January, the fourteenth of February, and the twenty-first of March.’"
"And that tells us nothing about what my present might actually be," said Hermione with a sigh.
"So why don’t you open it?" Ron suggested.
"No, Harry should finish the letter first." Hermione looked up. "Unless you think I should..."
"Go on," Harry said, setting the letter aside. "I’m curious myself now."
Hermione lifted her box out of the larger one and opened its top. A large beaker, such as they used in Potions class, met Harry’s eyes.
"Oh my!" Hermione lifted the beaker out, displaying its contents—it was nearly three-quarters full of a familiar muddy substance. "I’ll have to test it, to be sure it won’t strand us in another form or turn us inside out, but if it’s good..."
"Then we can turn into just about anyone we please," said Ron, leaning back on his hands. "Even Mad-Eye didn’t have that much on hand. Go on, Harry, let’s see what Luna says about mine."
"‘Ron’s present is very dangerous,’" Harry read, "‘so we’ve put a special covering on it. Diffindo should split the covering off, but please don’t touch the pointed end once you’ve done that. I know you survived it once, Harry, but I don’t know if Fawkes will come back to help you again...’"
He lowered the letter, staring wide-eyed at Ron. "Fawkes," he breathed. "The Chamber."
Ron snatched out his box and tore it open.
A small, curved tooth, of a size to fit easily into Hermione’s palm, dropped onto the floor of the tent, its surface glistening weirdly.
"It is," Hermione whispered. "It is—it’s a basilisk fang!"
"But it’s so small," Ron objected. "It can’t have much in it."
"Then you’ll have to make it count," said Harry, reaching for the locket. "Want to have a go?"
"What, now?" Ron blanched. "But I thought we couldn’t open that thing."
"It came to me just now, when I thought of the Chamber." Harry looked at the locket, swinging innocently on its chain. "I have to tell it to open. In Parseltongue."
Ron swallowed, following the back-and-forth path of the locket with his eyes.
"You said you wanted to kill it, Ron," Hermione said softly. "You’ll never have a better chance."
"You weren’t supposed to hear that," Ron grumbled, but he drew his wand and pointed it at the fang. "Diffindo." The covering split open and fell away, and he picked up the fang carefully by the blunt end. "Ready when you are, Harry."
Harry set the locket on the floor beside the bed and planted his foot on the chain so that it could not escape. "Open," he commanded it, a hiss with a snarl at the end, and the locket’s catch snapped back instantly.
Hermione whimpered slightly and retreated around the side of the bed. Harry bit down on a yelp and forced himself to remain still. Ron shuddered but tightened his fingers around the fang.
Each side of the locket held an eye, a dark and piercing eye peering out at the world as the eyes of Tom Riddle had once peered from his handsome face.
"Stab it, Ron," Harry said, leaning his whole weight on the chain. "Quick, before it—"
"I know you," hissed a voice from within the locket. "I know you, Ronald Weasley, better than you know yourself, better than these two could ever know you—better than they have ever wished to know you—"
"Stab it!" Harry urged his friend, but Ron seemed frozen in place, staring at the eyes as though he, or they, were capable of Legilimency.
"It was pure accident that you became friends with them both," the voice whispered. "Your mother’s and your brothers’ kindness, your need for a seat on the train, these are the only reasons Harry Potter ever befriended you—‘sheer dumb luck’, a Levitating Charm accidentally ended at just the right moment, placed Hermione Granger in your debt, making her feel as though she must be your friend—"
"LIAR!" Hermione screamed. "Ron, it’s lying, you know it’s lying, kill it now!"
"So kind she is," crooned the voice, "too kind to speak her heart, too kind to acknowledge the truth—the truth, that all she feels for you is pity, pity for the one too weak to persevere as she did, pity for the one who comes crawling back and begging to be readmitted to his former fellowship—"
"I haven’t seen any begging or crawling around here," Harry said loudly. "Ron, just stab it, it’ll keep going until you do—"
"He cannot see what he does not look at, and when does he ever truly look at you?" the voice went on, inexorable, inescapable, and Ron trembled before it, his hand locked around his gift. "When has he ever seen you as a person in your own right, instead of faithful follower where he leads, provider of a surrogate family, obstacle to the one he longs for in the night? For all his solicitous words, he would trade you for her in an instant, send you to the fate the world thinks is yours and bring her here in your place, for without you to interfere, he could have at last what he truly wants, what he has wanted since he was twelve years old, what he was spared to want only by the tears of a phoenix..."
Ron looked from the fang in his hand to Harry and back again. He was shaking uncontrollably now, and his lips formed his sister’s name—his hand lifted above his head—
"Harry would give his life for Ginny," said Hermione, her voice as anguished as Ron’s face. "Or for me, or for any of us. He’s proved it, over and over again. This thing’s lying to you, Ron—send it to hell where it belongs!"
Ron screamed in fury and plunged the fang down, once, twice—Harry dodged backwards, yanking his feet out of the way, as a howl of inhuman rage reverberated through the tent—Hermione clapped her hands over her ears, screwing her eyes shut in pain—
The fang dropped from Ron’s limp hand to the floor, where it rolled a short way and came to rest against the shattered remains of the locket. The glass in both windows was gone, the silk lining tattered and scorched. Harry wrinkled his nose against the smell and slid off the bed to prop the tent flap open for a few moments.
"Hermione, you swore," he heard Ron say behind him, unsteadily. "You never swear."
"I do when the situation calls for it." Hermione’s voice fluttered on the edge between laughter and tears. "I thought that one did."
Something rustled in Harry’s hand. He looked down to discover he was still holding Luna’s letter. Rather than turn around and disturb Ron and Hermione, he held it up to the light and continued reading.
If Ron’s already used his gift before you’ve opened yours, Harry, don’t worry too much. We might have a way to get you the sword...
Harry turned carefully, bringing Luna’s box into his field of view. The smaller box with his name on it reposed innocently within, just the right size to contain a delicate golden cup.
"Luna, I’m going to want to meet this friend of yours at some point," he muttered under his breath, then continued reading.
...and also to make you feel a bit less left out. But you have to be willing to accept that you might have been wrong about something. I know it’s hard, but you’ll have to do it more than once if you want to win the war. Please do come to Hogsmeade, though. It would cheer everyone up just to know you’d been there, and that you’re making progress. Have a Happy Christmas and New Year, and I hope to see you before too long.
Your friend,
Luna
Under this was the drawing he’d noticed earlier, a laughing, red-haired girl in Quidditch robes which matched the color of her almond-shaped eyes. Beside it, in a handwriting decidedly not Luna’s, were four words so tiny that Harry had to squint at them even with his glasses on.
Potter: Told you so.
Yes, next chapter will take us back to Draco. Sorry for the wait, but I wanted to get this out of the way first. Cue the evul cackling.