Lost Memories

lxiv. godric's hollows

Breakfast was quiet in the morning. Hermione said nothing to Harry or me, we said nothing in return. The heavy feeling of Ron's lack of presence was there. The locket stayed laid on my chest, under my sweater, while we packed up the tent.

Hermione seemed to have realized that once we moved our location, Ron wouldn't be able to find us; she repacked the silver bag three times.

"Hermione," I said softly, "we should go."

She nodded quickly, still puffy-eyed from her sobbing session the previous night. I grabbed Harry and Hermione's hands, after taking down the protection charms, and turned on the spot.

The instant we arrived, Hermione dropped my hand and walked away from us, sitting down on a large rock. I knew she was still angry with us for it was also my fault that Ron had left. We did not discuss Ron at all over the next few days. Harry seemed determined to never mention his name again, still angry at their row, and Hermione seemed to know that it was no use forcing the issue, although sometimes at night when she thought we were asleep, I could hear her crying. I knew how much she cared for him, she's heartbroken.

We were spending many evenings in near silence, I played owl between Harry and Hermione, neither of them really talking to each other— Hermione was more lenient to talk to me surprisingly enough. Some nights, Hermione would bring out Phineas Nigellus's portrait and propping it up in a chair, as though he might fill part of the gaping hole left by Ron's departure. We had learned that Snape seemed to be facing a constant, low level of mutiny from a hardcore of students. Ginny had been banned from going into Hogsmeade. Snape had reinstated Umbridge's old decree forbidding gatherings of three or more students or any unofficial student societies. From all of these things, I deduced that Ginny, and probably Neville and Luna along with her, had been doing their best to continue Dumbledore's Army.

Hermione took it upon herself to take most of the watches despite my head; it seemed as though she wanted to keep away from us, still angry. Slowly, it seemed as though I was losing my friends— first Ron and now Hermione... soon enough Harry.

As the weeks dragged on, the weather grew colder and colder. We did not dare remain in any one area too long, so rather than staying in the south of England, where a hard ground frost was the worst of our worries, we continued to meander up and down the country, braving a mountainside, where sleet pounded the tent; a wide, flat marsh, where the tent was flooded with chill water; a tiny island in the middle of a Scottish loch, where snow half-buried the tent in the night.

Just after our unusually good meal, I had gone to the supermarket under the Invisibility Cloak (leaving money into an open till), Harry paced the tent impatiently. Hermione and I were reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard, for no other reason than boredom, when Harry interrupted us.

"Yeah?" I looked up from the book.

Harry cleared his throat, looking nervous, and awkwardly scratched his neck.

"I've been thinking—"

"Harry, could you help us with something?" Hermione spoke over him. My jaw dropped a little at Hermione's disinterest. "Come look at this symbol," she pointed to the triangular eye with its pupil crossed with a vertical line– the Hallow symbol.

"I never took Ancient Runes, Hermione."

"I know that, but it isn't a rune and it's not in the syllabary, either. All along I thought it was a picture of an eye..." Hermione continued to give her thoughts on what it was, while I stood up and paced debating whether or not to tell them what it was.

"—symbol of Dark Magic, what's it doing in a book of children's stories?"

I bit my lip and wrung my hands, looking at the two speculate on what it was.