Be Careful
59: What You Read
By Anne B. Walsh
Author Notes:
I disclaim the quotes near the end of this chapter.
"Dumbledore and Grindelwald?" Harry said in a stunned voice. "Friends?"
He and Hermione were sitting across from one another with The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, which Hermione had accidentally carried away from Bathilda Bagshot’s house with her, between them. Ron, under the Invisibility Cloak, was in the village a few miles away, collecting hair from as many unsuspecting Muggles as he could manage while keeping all the strands separate. It was nearly noon on what some part of Harry still refused to believe was Christmas Day.
Christmas is a Hogwarts feast, or Mrs. Weasley’s dinner at the Burrow. Crackers to pull and songs to sing and the twins playing jokes on anything that will hold still. Hagrid drinking too much eggnog, Professor McGonagall warding herself against mistletoe, Snape looking as if he’d rather the whole thing just went away.
Not finding out Dumbledore used to be friends with a Dark wizard.
"Hermione, that doesn’t make sense," he said. "Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, even I know that." He found a small smile, even if it felt too tight. "It’s on his Chocolate Frog card." The smile fell away, and he let it. "How could they have been friends?"
Hermione lowered her eyes. "Some of the worst enemies are friends gone wrong," she said softly. "And there’s something else." She flipped open the book to a photograph. "Look here, at this letter. Look at the signature."
Harry leaned in close, peering at the picture. Hermione lit her wand to give him a better look, and after a moment he nodded. "It’s that mark again," he said, sitting up. "The one on your book, that you said was drawn in."
"And it was on the gravestone in Godric’s Hollow, the one I thought said Potter—it was Peverell, Harry, the name was Ignotus Peverell, and it had this marking on it too—and I’ve seen it somewhere else, I just can’t think of where—"
"What can’t you think of?" said Ron, pulling off the Cloak as he came in. "I got twelve, I think that should be enough, we can always get more if we need them. Yes, I kept them separate," he added before Hermione could say it. "Now what’s this you can’t think of? It must be something important, you never forget stuff."
"This." Hermione sketched the symbol in the air with her wand, glowing lines hovering for a moment, then fading. "It’s in this book, it’s in mine, it was in the graveyard at Godric’s Hollow—"
"And it was somewhere we ought to go today." Ron tossed Harry the Cloak. "Luna’s dad was wearing it at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, Krum had a fight with him over it, remember?"
"Of course!" Hermione thumped herself in the forehead with her hand. "I knew I’d seen it!"
"And Krum said it was Grindelwald’s mark," Harry recalled dully. "It would make sense, then, for Dumbledore to be signing his letter with it. Since he was writing to Grindelwald."
The part of his chest that had swelled with happiness at Ron’s return to them, at the death of Nagini, at the box that had indeed proved to contain Hufflepuff’s cup (which now reposed on a low table beside Harry’s and Ron’s bunks) was shriveled and cold at this latest revelation. He had trusted in Dumbledore, had set aside his whole life to follow Dumbledore’s nonsensical instructions, had suffered and struggled in the quest Dumbledore had left him. Discovering at this precise moment, when things seemed to be going well for the first time, just how imperfect Dumbledore had been seemed likely to pull him down.
"Harry, aren’t you taking this a bit hard?" Ron asked, flopping down in a chair. "I mean, Dumbledore was pretty young when he knew Grindelwald—"
"He was seventeen," Harry said shortly. "He was our age."
"Yeah, and we always make the smartest choices going, don’t we?" Ron retorted, pointing at himself. "People can change their minds, Harry. People can look at themselves in the mirror and be able to say, ‘Damn, that was stupid, maybe I should try something else tomorrow.’ Grindelwald was smooth, he was a fast talker by all the stories I ever heard, and Dumbledore met him right after his mum died. He probably got pulled in, Dumbledore did, and only came to his senses after whatever happened to his sister."
Something about Ron’s last word caught at Harry’s mind. Sister—his sister—my sister, if I had one—
"Luna draws, doesn’t she?" he asked, getting up to fetch Luna’s letter from where it sat inside her box.
"Yes, she does," Hermione confirmed. "She’s quite good, actually—oh!" Harry had unfolded the letter to expose the drawing at its bottom. "Harry, is that meant for your mum?"
"Can’t be," said Ron, leaning over to see. "Harry’s mum never played Quidditch, and she wasn’t a Slytherin—"
He looked up at Harry, an expression composed of equal parts astonishment and horror sliding onto his face, mirroring what Harry could feel on his own face.
"What’s the matter with you two?" Hermione asked, looking from one boy to the other.
"What Malfoy said to me," said Ron weakly. "What he told me to tell Harry."
"What, that his sister was—" Hermione broke off and looked at the picture again. "Oh," she said. "Wait, there’s something written here, beside it—"
"I already read it," Harry said. "It says, ‘Potter: Told you so.’ And it’s not in Luna’s writing, it looks like it might be a boy’s, but it’s not any I’d know."
"Well, I’d hope not, if it was Malfoy writing it..." Hermione held out her hand, and Harry gave her the letter. She perused it for a few moments, then looked up, her face grave. "Luna really seems to want us to go to Hogsmeade," she said. "She mentioned it twice. And she never put a name on this ‘friend’ of hers."
"What, you think it’s Malfoy?" Ron scoffed. "Yeah, and Pansy Parkinson dates Muggles!"
"Ron, I’m serious!" Hermione shook the letter at him. "What if Luna was made to write this? What if it’s a trap? What if they’re waiting for us at her house, or in Hogsmeade?"
"There’s only one problem with that, Hermione," Harry said, glancing over his shoulder at the innocent-looking cup sitting on the table. "If the letter’s a trap, why bother to send us a Horcrux with it? I doubt Vol—"
"Harry!"
"I doubt that bastard," said Harry loudly, making Hermione frown and Ron grin, "would’ve approved. And it wasn’t just a Horcrux, it was a basilisk fang, one of the only things that can kill a Horcrux—and did, just not the one it was boxed up with—and a full batch of Polyjuice Potion you said yourself was perfectly good! If it’s a trap, it’s a sight fancier than anything we’ve seen so far, even last night, and let’s face it, we could use some good news here!" He was on his feet, pacing back and forth across the tent. "For all we know, Dumbledore set this up before he died so we’d have help along the way!"
"Do you really believe that, Harry?" Hermione asked softly. "Do you really believe even Dumbledore could have seen where we’d be so far in advance?"
"He must’ve known something, Hermione," said Ron, producing the Deluminator. "Else why’d he leave me this? And you that book, with the rune or whatever it is inked in? It’s a puzzle, like the one you told me about solving first year with the seven bottles and the potions, except it’s loads more complicated than that, so it’s going to take longer."
"And we need more information before we can figure it out." Hermione nodded. "I know. But it seems so strange, and I don’t see how it could ever all fit together. Malfoy and Luna and Horcruxes and this..." She sketched the symbol again, this time with her finger instead of her wand. "It doesn’t make sense."
"Neither did Sirius dragging Ron off to the Shrieking Shack third year," Harry said. "Until we got in there, and heard the true story."
His mind was clear now, his spirits had lifted again. It was indeed possible for people to change. He had proof in his own life. His father had been a bully at fifteen, Sirius had been a fool at sixteen, yet both of them had grown up to be good men who had done brave things.
And Wormtail never broke a rule unless Dad and Sirius did it first and pushed him into it, and look what he went on to do.
He looked up. "Let’s go see Luna’s dad," he said. "He deserves to know she’s all right. And we’ll see what he can tell us about this." He mimicked Hermione, drawing the symbol in the air. "Who knows, maybe it’s the one missing piece that will make it all make sense."
"And maybe it’ll just make it make less sense, like usual," said Ron. "All right, we should start outside Ottery St. Catchpole, I know they live north of there, Mum and Dad always point off that way when they’re talking about them..."
Hermione Weasley, nee Beauvoi, adjusted the glasses on her nose fussily. She didn’t usually wear glasses, but these were special.
They’re not for seeing better. They’re for seeing elsewhere. A very specific elsewhere.
Before holidays started, she had bespelled the glasses and the white glove on her right hand to give her remote control over the TVP, still in its room at Hogwarts.
Because I had a feeling things wouldn’t stop happening just because it was Christmas.
Hermione tucked her feet more securely under her in the big chair and wiggled her fingers, activating the magic. A picture blinked to life on the lenses of the glasses, and voices began to speak through the earpieces.
"—as a Resurrection Stone!" said Hermione Granger, waving her hands in the air. "You can’t bring people back to life, no spell can reawaken the dead!"
"I didn’t say it could!" Harry objected. "The story said the girl looked like she was beyond a veil, that doesn’t sound like she really came back, she was like an echo or a picture, but it would be better than nothing, wouldn’t it?"
"No, Harry, it wouldn’t!" Hermione moved across the floor of the tent and took Harry’s hands in hers. "I know you miss them," she said softly. "I know you wish they were here. But think, Harry, really think—if we were supposed to be chasing the Deathly Hallows, if we were supposed to be trying to conquer death, wouldn’t Dumbledore have told us so?"
"Maybe he couldn’t say it right out," Harry countered. "Maybe he wanted us to follow the signs. You heard what Mr. Lovegood said, it’s a Quest, you’ve got to do it on your own. And Ron said Ollivander told him V—You-Know-Who," he hastily corrected at the look on Hermione’s face, "wanted to know all about the Elder Wand—doesn’t that mean we should be trying to find out about it too, to make sure he doesn’t get it? He’s powerful enough, Hermione, I don’t want to find out what he’d be like with an unbeatable wand, especially since I’m the one who has to fight him—"
"Did either of you see this?" Ron interrupted from his chair in the corner, where he was rummaging in Luna’s box. "This paper in here, it’s not just scrap, there’s stuff printed on it."
"Printed on it?" Hermione let go Harry’s hands and came over to look, Harry following. "Like what?"
"I didn’t get a chance to read it yet." Ron flattened one of the sheets and peered at it. "Looks like a list. Let me see if I can find the first piece." Two sheets later, he made a noise of satisfaction. "Here it is." Pressing the paper flat, he began to read aloud. "Being an Evil Overlord seems to be a good career choice..."
"What?" said Hermione shrilly.
Harry snorted with laughter. "Sounds like something Fred and George would’ve written after their career advice session," he said. "Go on, Ron, this should be good."
Ron found his place and continued. "It pays well, there are all sorts of perks, and you can set your own hours. However, every Evil Overlord I’ve read about in books... invariably gets overthrown and destroyed in the end."
"Wish this was a book," said Harry a bit bleakly.
"I’ve noticed that no matter whether they are barbarian lords, deranged wizards, mad scientists, or alien invaders, they always seem to make the same basic mistakes every single time..." Ron frowned. "What’s a scientist?"
"Someone who does experiments, who tries things out," said Hermione. "Never mind that now, keep going."
"With that in mind, allow me to present... The Top 100 Things I’d Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord," Ron finished.
The three friends looked at each other for a moment. Harry cracked first, but Ron wasn’t far behind, and Hermione’s giggles got the better of her an instant later. "It’s like an advice column!" she choked out. "Only it’s not for just anyone..."
"There’s a note on here," said Ron, recovering some of his breath. "See number thirty-four." He flipped to the second page, ran his finger down the column, blinked at what he found, and burst into guffaws.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
Ron handed over the page, pointing weakly at the guilty line.
"Number thirty-four," read Harry. "I will not turn into a snake. It never helps."
Hermione Weasley tapped her glasses twice with a gloved finger, shutting off the exceptionally loud laughter in her ears. From her pocket, she withdrew a small metal object, which she flicked open to reveal a green flame. "Harry Potter," she said clearly, and waited.
A moment later, Harry’s voice echoed out of the lighter. "Potter’s Broomspear Café. You kill it, we grill it."
"Harry, that’s disgusting."
"Happy Christmas to you too, Neenie. What’s going on?"
"Please tell me you didn’t ask Dudley to print out the Evil Overlord List and have Pansy owl it here for that box of Draco and Luna’s."
"You want me to lie to you? On Christmas Day? You should be ashamed of yourself."
Hermione sagged back in her chair. "Goodbye, Harry," she said, closing the lighter on his chuckle.
Though if anyone would appreciate it, they would...
Author Notes:
Peter’s Evil Overlord List can be found at www.eviloverlord.com and is well worth a read. Credit also to Dracis Tran for Harry’s substitution for Voldemort’s name.