Emma Potter; Going to War

119: TRAITOR

"Potters!" 

 Aberforth Dumbledore stood blocking the corridor ahead, his wand held ready. "I've had hundreds of kids thundering through my pub, Potters!" 

"We know, we're evacuating," I said, "Voldemort's —" 

 "— attacking because they haven't handed you both over, yeah," said Aberforth, "I'm not deaf, the whole of Hogsmeade heard him. And it never occurred to any of you to keep a few Slytherins hostage? There are kids of Death Eaters you've just sent to safety. Wouldn't it have been a bit smarter to keep 'em here?"

 "It wouldn't stop Voldemort," I said, "and your brother would never have done it." 

 Aberforth grunted and tore away in the opposite direction. Your brother would never have done it. . . . Well, it was the truth, I thought as we ran on again; Dumbledore, who had defended Snape for so long, would never have held students ransom. . . . And then we skidded around a final corner and with a yell of mingled relief and fury we saw them: Ron and Hermione, both with their arms full of large, curved, dirty yellow objects, Ron with a broomstick under his arm. 

 "Where the hell have you been?" I shouted. 

 "Chamber of Secrets," said Ron. 

 "Chamber — what?" said Harry, coming to an unsteady halt before them. 

 "It was Ron, all Ron's idea!" said Hermione breathlessly. "Wasn't it absolutely brilliant? There we were, after you left, and I said to Ron, even if we find the other one, how are we going to get rid of it? We still hadn't got rid of the cup! And then he thought of it! The basilisk!"  

"What the — ?" 

 "Something to get rid of Horcruxes," said Ron simply.

 My eyes dropped to the objects clutched in Ron and Hermione's arms: great curved fangs, torn, I now realized, from the skull of a dead basilisk. 

 "But how did you get in there?" I asked, staring from the fangs to Ron. "You need to speak Parseltongue!"

 "He did!" whispered Hermione. "Show him, Ron!" R

on made a horrible strangled hissing noise. 

 "It's what you did to open the locket," he told Harry apologetically. "I had to have a few goes to get it right, but," he shrugged modestly, "we got there in the end."

 "He was amazing." said Hermione. "Amazing!" 

 "So . . ." Harry was struggling to keep up. "So . . ." 

 "So we're another Horcrux down," said Ron, and from under his jacket he pulled the mangled remains of Hufflepuff's cup. "Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn't had the pleasure yet." 

 "Genius!" yelled Harry, while I tackled him with a cup. 

 "It was nothing," said Ron, though he looked delighted with himself. "So what's new with you?" 

 As he said it, there was an explosion from overhead: All three of them looked up as dust fell from the ceiling and they heard a distant scream. 

"I'm taking you to the Diadem, " I said crisply, "Come on, then." 

 As the walls trembled again, I led the other three back through the concealed entrance and down the staircase into the Room of Requirement. It was empty except for three women: Ginny, Tonks, and an elderly witch wearing a moth-eaten hat, whom I recognized immediately as Neville's grandmother.

 "Ah, Potters," she said crisply as if she had been waiting for us. "You can tell us what's going on." 

 "Is everyone okay?" said Ginny and Tonks together.