"Don't leave, I told you I wouldn't. So why are you?" Hermione's voice croaked, a mixture of desperation and sorrow in her tone.
"I can't, you know I can't," Y/N murmured, her brows furrowing with a heavy burden of guilt. She felt the weight of her...
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Y/N observed the camp scene as Hermione gave Harry a haircut. They were situated in a large field surrounded by towering mountains, close to a meandering river. Seraphina and Sophie had taken the opportunity to spend some time alone outside the tent. Ron, as usual, was listening to the radio, his attention fixed on the broadcast.
A few days earlier, they had paid their respects by burying Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye beneath a random tree. While foraging for food, they had encountered Tonks' father having dinner with goblins, a man referred to as "Dink," and Dean had joined them. It had taken considerable effort to prevent Aurora from leaping at the unsuspecting boy.
The goblins had dropped a bombshell during their encounter, revealing that the Sword of Gryffindor, which had been moved from Snape's office following Ginny's attempt to steal it, was now secured in a Gringotts vault. Even more surprising was the fact that it was a flawless replica, discernible only by the goblins themselves.
Amidst the rhythmic snipping of scissors and the pattering of raindrops, Harry's hair fell to the ground. Hermione, focused on perfecting the back of his head, suddenly brightened.
"Oh my God," she muttered in amazement.
Harry exchanged perplexed glances with Y/N, who simply shrugged her shoulders. "Did she mess up my hair? Please tell me she didn't mess up my hair," Harry whined, his hand instinctively reaching for the back of his head, only to find it in order.
"I'll tell you in a minute," Hermione replied, walking over to Aurora and Y/N, her hands sifting through items on the table.
Harry couldn't contain his curiosity. "Maybe you could tell me now," he suggested.
Hermione's expression remained deadpan as she dropped the bombshell. "The Sword of Gryffindor," she announced, "it's goblin-made!"
"Brilliant," Harry's face lit up with excitement, and he responded with a double thumbs-up that even got a giggle out of Aurora.
Hermione continued to explain, her excitement palpable. "No, you don't understand," she shook her head, flipping open a book for emphasis. "Dirt and rust have no effect on the blade; it only makes it stronger!"
Harry grunted in confusion. "Okay?"
Hermione paced around the room, her mind racing with newfound knowledge. "Harry, Y/N, you two have already destroyed one Horcrux, right?" she prompted.
Y/N nodded, remembering. "Tom Riddle's diary in the Chamber of Secrets!"
Harry chimed in, "With a Basilisk fang. I swear, Hermione, if you say you've got one of those in that bloody beaded bag of yours—"
Hermione's eyes lit up with realization. "Don't you see?" she exclaimed. "In the Chamber of Secrets, you stabbed the Basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor! Its blade is impregnated with Basilisk venom."
Aurora's eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. "It only takes in that which makes it stronger."
"Exactly," Hermione confirmed, her excitement growing. "Which is why—"
