Later that day, in the evening, it was Hermione’s turn to keep watch—well, that and the fact that she didn’t want to be near Ron, for she was still upset.
Harry and Ron were sitting on a bunk when Ron asked, “How long d’you reckon she’ll stay mad at me?”
“Just keep talking about that little ball of light touching your heart, and she’ll come around,” answered Harry, trying not to sound bitter.
“I always love these little flames Hermione makes in the jars. Hey, you said your wand broke, right? Well, I got an extra.” Ron handed Harry the dark wood wand.
Harry gave it a try on the flames, “Engorgio.”
The flames came spurting straight up.
“Reducio!”
“What was that?” Hermione had come inside the tent.
“Nothing,” said Harry and Ron simultaneously as they stood up.
“Well. I’ve been thinking. I want to visit Xenophilius Lovegood.”
“Sorry?”
“Xenophilius Lovegood. Luna’s father. I want to talk to him.”
“Er – why?” asked Harry.
“Harry, it’s that mark again! First in Beedle the Bard, then I saw it on a grave in Godric’s Hollow, now in here. Look!” she shoved the book into Harry’s hand, Ron peering over his shoulder. “See? Look at the signature!”
Dumbledore had replaced the A in Albus with a small version of the triangular mark that kept showing up.
“Erm….How does this relate to Lovegood, again?” asked Ron.
Hermione sighed, exasperated. “Mr. Lovegood was wearing this symbol around his neck at the wedding!” She faced Harry, “I know this is important, Harry!”
There was silence as Ron and Harry looked more closely at the symbol.
Ron piped up, “I think we should vote on it. All those in favor?” Ron raised his hand while Harry and Hermione just stared at him.
Hermione said, “We leave in the morning,” before walking outside the tent to resume watch.
In the morning, when everything was packed up and the three were ready, they Disapparated to the fields not too far from the Burrow.
“Ron, where does he live again?” asked Harry.
“Mum and Dad always point towards the hills whenever they mention them. Follow me.” Ron led them over a hill and, in the distance, they could see the Lovegood’s odd house.
Hermione knocked on the door when they walked up to the porch. Off to the left of the door were three signs that said, “THE QUIBBLER. EDITOR: X. LOVEGOOD,” “PICK YOUR OWN MISTLETOE,” and “KEEP OFF THE DIRIGIBLE PLUMS.”
Xenophilius opened the door. “What? What is it? Who are you? What do you want?” he asked in a quivering voice.
Harry stepped forward. “Hello, Mr. Lovegood. I’m Harry, Harry Potter. Would it be okay if we came in? There’s something we’d like to ask you.”
“I…I’m not sure that’s advisable,” Xenophilius whispered.
“Don’t worry, we won’t be long,” said Harry.
“Well, alright. Come in, quickly. Quickly!”
Looking rather uncomfortable, Xenophilius led them up the spiral staircase which was centered in the middle of the cylindrical looking house. He served them all hot tea and all sat down. There was silence.
