Sophia Holmes and the Search for Horcruxes (Harry Potter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter Thirteen

The atmosphere when we wake is very tense, but with Ron gone I can't help but think we might get things done a lot quicker now we can disapparate.

Hermione’s eyes are red from crying as she ties her red scarf to a tree. I don't bother warning her that Ron may not be the only one who can track us by doing that, but instead help Harry pack up the tent.

Once it's packed inside the beaded bag and the locket hangs from Hermione’s hand, she looks hopelessly through the trees for a glimpse of Ron before reaching out her hand towards Harry. He takes it wordlessly and I hold onto his other hand and immediately we're ripped away from the riverside over to a hilltop somewhere else.

Hermione is hit immediately with guilt as she stumbles away and hides her face in her hands. Unsure what to do, I go over to her and attempt to console her while Harry does the protection spells around the hill, realising we're probably going to be here for a while.

***

That evening, I lie on my bunk and savour the peace and quiet. I don't feel like I've stopped in ages, sometimes I just wish life had a pause button for when things are moving too fast.

Harry is doing something outside while Hermione busies herself inside. As the radio crackles to life, I let my head sink deeper into the pillow in mild annoyance, half wishing Ron had taken that thing with him when he left.

When the static clears, a song becomes more focused and I sit up. Harry is equally as intrigued at the clear signal and ducks back into the tent.

"It’s a Muggle station," Hermione smiles and Harry returns it. I watch with a smile of my own when Harry considers something, then reaches his hand out to her. Hermione eyes him uncertainly, but allows him to pull her to her feet. He steps forward, gently removes the locket from her neck and tosses it to the ground. She looks at it, then back to him.  He smiles and, without prompting they begin to dance to the music, tentatively at first, before letting themselves go.

Though it is clumsy and far from professional, there is a certain beauty to their dance. It's not a romantic dance either - it's completely platonic and friendly, like watching a brother and sister dancing, or father and daughter judging by the state of Harry's dancing! The tension which has been thick the last few days slips away and becomes carefree.

I smile until I catch myself. The last time we were this happy, we were a matter of hours away from losing Ron. This won't last long.

As if in agreement, the signal slips away and the static returns. Their smiles fade and they stop moving. Hermione averts her eyes and moves away, out of the tent. Harry watches her go, then takes the locket from the floor and slings it over his neck.

Harry looks around and I pretend to be asleep and very soon after, drift off.

***

"Hermione, do you have a different type of secret code in the Wizarding world?" I ask the next morning, wrapped up in a blanket and in front of a fire she conjured up, reading a children's storybook Hermione has leant me to take a look at. Apparently it was a gift from Dumbledore, and if Harry's gift of the Sword of Gryffindor is anything to go by, this book must hold another key to either finding or destroying the Horcruxes.

"I don't think so," she says, frowing in thought. "Why?"

"There's a symbol in here I've never seen before," I say.

"Try this one," she says, digging into her bag before levitating a book over the fire from opposite me. I take the book from the invisible hand and look at the front cover of the copy of Spellman’s Syllabary she's sent over.

I flick through it and study each page, even take the symbol apart and look at each component individually but it doesn't make sense.

Harry seems to have made progress, however, and slips through the tent flaps.

"Hermione," he says and I the small Golden Snitch in his hand. He hands it to her. "You were right. It’s like you said. Snitches have flesh memories.  But I didn’t catch my first Snitch with my hand. I almost swallowed it."

I get up and walk around the fire to see the Snitch.

"‘I open at the close?’" I read, frowning.

"What do you reckon it means?" Harry asks, but I shake my head.

"I don’t know. But look, I’ve found something as well..." I flick back to the title page of the book and show him the small symbol of a line and circle inside a triangle. "I thought it was a picture of an eye, but now I don’t think it is. It isn’t a rune and it’s not in Spellman’s Syllabary either. And it’s been inked in - somebody drew it - it isn’t part of the book."

"Luna’s dad was wearing that, at Ron’s -"  Harry catches himself. "At Bill and Fleur’s wedding."

"What d’you mean 'wearing it'?" I ask, ignorning for the moment that I don't know Luna, let alone who her dad is.

"Around his neck," Harry explains. "Like an amulet. I didn’t think much of it at the time," he nods to Hermione. "You know Luna - she’s always got some mad thing or the other she’s carrying around. I just figured it ran in the family."

"Why would someone have drawn it in a children’s book?" I ask and Hermione shakes her head, musing.

"I’ve been thinking," Harry says hesitantly. "I - I want to go to Godric’s Hollow. It’s where I was born, it’s where my parents died -"

"And it’s exactly where You-Know-
Who will expect you to go," Hermione points out softly. "Because it means something to you."

"But it means something to him too, Hermione," he replies. "You-Know-Who nearly died there. Wouldn’t that be just the kind of place he’d hide a Horcrux? Sophie?"

Despite the danger, I know we can't avoid it much longer. Where better to hide Godric Gryffindor's sword than in Godric's Hollow?

"It’s dangerous, Harry," I say, then sigh. "But I have to admit, recently even I’ve been thinking we might have to go. I think it’s possible something else is hidden there." Harry and Hermione look at me puzzled. "The sword. If Dumbledore didn’t want it falling into the Ministry’s hands, but wanted you to find it, what better place to hide it than the birthplace of the founder of Gryffindor himself?"

"Godric’s Hollow is the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor -" Harry asks then catches himself as he sees my look. "I mean, ‘course it is. Obvious, isn’t it?"

"Harry, did you ever even open A History of Magic?" Hermione asks, eyeing him knowingly.

"Tossed it at Neville once when he was snoring - might’ve popped open," he replies and Hermione and I grin. She stands, picking up her blanket as we get ready to move on. "Hermione..." Harry starts, but words fail him. Hermione reaches out, lightly strokes his hair as she heads toward the tent.

"Don’t ever let me give you a haircut again."

Harry feels the back of his head, subconsciously, and I chuckle and move inside after her.