082. 'Heaven only knows if we'll make it back with all our fingers and our toes'

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༻⊰𒀭⊱༺

LXXXII

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LXXXII. THE BROTHER'S PLAGUE

━━━━━━

"And we'll be carrying each other

Until we say goodbye on our dying day"


          THERE WAS A LONG MOMENT of silence as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Marjorie reeled in the Extendable Ears, the quiet around them punctuated only by the soft rustling of the tent and the crackling of the fire. Marjorie's mind raced, trying to piece together the implications of what they had just overheard. Her chest tightened with both relief and disbelief, the realisation washing over her like a wave.

"Merlin — Ginny and the others — the sword —" Marjorie finally stammered, her words spilling out in a breathless rush. Her voice trembled with a mix of urgency and hope. "The sword isn't with Snape!"

"I know!" Hermione exclaimed, her own voice reflecting the same excitement and relief. Her eyes sparkled with determination as she scrambled for the small beaded bag, her movements quick and deliberate.

Marjorie watched, confused, as Hermione plunged her arm into the depths of the bag, rummaging around like someone frantically searching for something vital.

"What are you doing?" Marjorie was puzzled.

"Here... we... are..." Hermione grunted between gritted teeth. Slowly, as Harry hurried to help, the edge of an ornate picture frame emerged from the depths of the bag. Hermione continued to pull, her wand at the ready, prepared to cast a spell at any moment.

Marjorie gasped, her eyes widening in surprise as the intricate frame caught the light. "I'm surprised you haven't chucked him away by now," she muttered, eyeing the portrait.

"Well, now it proves handy that I kept it," Hermione replied breathlessly, propping the portrait up against the side of the tent. Her eyes narrowed with focus as she positioned it carefully, preparing for whatever might come next. "If someone switched the real sword with a fake in Dumbledore's office, Phineas Nigellus would have seen it happen. He hangs right beside the case!"

"Unless he was asleep," Harry pointed out, though his voice was taut with anticipation. He watched intently as Hermione knelt before the empty portrait, her wand at the ready.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione cleared her throat and said, "Er — Phineas? Phineas Nigellus?"

Nothing happened.

The empty canvas remained still, its dark backdrop offering no response.

Hermione leaned in closer, her voice rising slightly. "Phineas Nigellus? Professor Black? Please could we talk to you? Please?"

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓, 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆. harry j. potterWhere stories live. Discover now