HARRY'S POINT OF VIEW
This wasn't right.
It was the furthest thing from being right.
I sighed loudly, fiddling with the golden snitch in my hand, and earning me two worried looks from both Hermione and Ron.
"I can't do this." The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, though I didn't really regret it.
It was true; I couldn't do this.
As soon as the Minister of Magic mentioned her name in Dumbledore's will, it was as bad as it was the first day she was gone again.
I couldn't stop thinking about getting her away from them; from Voldemort.
"How can we be celebrating a bloody wedding when she's rotting in some dungeon surrounded by death eaters?"
I was standing up at this point, pacing back and forth in front of the couch, my best friends were sat on. "It's not right," I stressed.
Hermione gave me an apologetic smile as she got up; not that that made anything better.
"You've managed a whole month now, Harry," Hermione began, her voice calm as she placed a hand on my shoulder. "I can only imagine how hard this must be," She sighed. "But it's only one more night. You'll turn 17 tomorrow, and we'll go looking for her immediately. And we'll find the Horcruxes afterwards."
While her words reassured me, they didn't get rid of the constant guilt nagging me.
If only I wouldn't have run after them that night.
If only I would've done something when I still had the chance.
"We're just as worried about her as you are, mate," Ron muttered, giving me a small smile that I assumed was supposed to be reassuring.
"No offence, Ron," I sighed, shaking my head. "But I don't think you are. I don't think anyone-" I interrupted myself when both of their eyes fell on something behind me, making me furrow my brows.
"Think I found someone," Hermione spoke lowly, nodding behind me before I turned around to look out of the window.
My eyes immediately made out Luna and a man, probably her father, approaching the burrow, before inevitably falling on Wren Inkwood. The usually sharp-witted, confident girl looking like nothing more than a shell of herself as she walked a little behind her girlfriend; the two still holding hands.
The three of us were quick to meet them halfway, greeting them still outside.
"Xenophilius Lovegood," The man introduced himself politely, his voice soft as he looked around the place with interest.
"Nice to meet you, sir," I smiled politely, grabbing the hand he extended and shaking it before he suddenly pulled me closer, my head mere inches from his chest and my eyes inevitably latching onto the necklace dangling around his neck.
"I trust you know, Mr Potter, that we, at the Quibbler, unlike those toadies at the Daily Prophet, fully supported Dumbledore in his lifetime, and in his death, support you, just as fully," He hushed quickly, and lowly.
"Thank you."
"Ah, anyway," He retreated, his serious attitude all forgotten about. "We thought you wouldn't mind a few extra helping hands," He smiled, waving his hands in the air as the words left his mouth.
"Oh, you shouldn't have!" I recognised Fleur's voice coming from behind us, her accent not covering the clear relief in her voice as she heard the words 'helping hands'. "Come in, come in. Would you like some tea?" She went on, her arm wrapping around the man to lead him inside with a warm smile on her face.
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