"𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙮"
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IN WHICH ~ Jupiter Cassiopeia Lestrange thought she could escape her family's dark legacy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but in her second year, Tom Riddle's diar...
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"May the flowers remind us why the rain was so necessary."
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"Harry," Hermione whispered urgently, pulling them all closer together. Her eyes darted toward the closed door before returning to Harry. "Are you saying what I think you're saying? Are you saying there's a Horcrux in the Lestranges' vault?"
"Yes," Harry said, his voice low but certain. "Bellatrix was terrified when she thought we'd been in there. She was beside herself. Why? What did she think we'd seen? What else did she think we might have taken? Something she was petrified You-Know-Who would find out about."
"But I thought we were looking for places You-Know-Who's been, places he's done something important?" Ron asked, his confusion evident. "Was he ever inside the Lestranges' vault?"
"No, he wasn't," Jupiter answered almost instinctively; the remnants of the diary were still planted in her memory. "He had never even been to Gringotts. Grew up in an orphanage so he didn't have any money to withdraw anyways. Besides, he wouldn't need to go inside; he trusts Bellatrix more than anyone."
"I doubt he told her whatever he gave her was a Horcrux, though," Harry added, absently rubbing his scar. "He never told Lucius Malfoy about the diary, did he?" Jupiter shook her head. "He probably told her it was a treasured possession and asked her to place it in her vault. The safest place in the world for anything you want to hide, Hagrid told me... except for Hogwarts."
When Harry had finished speaking, Ron shook his head. "You both really understand him."
"More than you know," Jupiter mumbled, her arm going over her newly aching stomach.
"I just wish I'd understood Dumbledore as much," Harry murmured with a humorless laugh. "But we'll see. Come on — Ollivander now."
They followed him across the little landing and knocked upon the door opposite Bill and Fleur's. A weak "Come in!" answered them. The wandmaker was lying on the twin bed farthest from the window. Harry had told her that Ollivander had been held in the cellar for more than a year, and suddenly, her few weeks didn't feel so long. She almost felt guilty for feeling dreadful. He was emaciated, the bones of his face sticking out sharply against the yellowish skin. His great silver eyes seemed vast in their sunken sockets. The hands that lay upon the blanket could have belonged to a skeleton.
"Mr. Ollivander, I'm sorry to disturb you," Harry said.
"My dear boy," Ollivander's voice was feeble. "You rescued us, I thought we would die in that place, I can never thank you... never thank you... enough."
"We were glad to do it," Harry nodded, then dug out the two wands in his pocket. "Mr. Ollivander, I need some help."
