𝑩𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 | 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒐 𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒇𝒐𝒚 | 𝟑

| eighteen |

Chapter eighteen; Ripped apart

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She didn't think things could get much worse, but it did. Her and Ron had become even more segregated from Hermione and Harry. It proved when Ron was lying in bed, listening to his radio while Hermione cut Harry's hair. Olivia sat away from them, in her own bed flicking over spells she'd never heard of before in the book Dumbledore had left to her.

The majority were of a different language, and it confused her greatly. Not only that but they had little information on what the spells actually did. Her and Hermione had figured out, or thought they had figured out what 'bás chun luaith' meant. They had to reference a book Hermione had brought about spells from different cultures and had to roughly translate it in Gaelic. It meant something along the lines of 'death to dust' which made no sense. 

When Olivia had tried it on a patch of grass, it died before disintegrating into thin air — something she recalled Oykron Morte's body doing.

They'd also discussed Morte, trying to decipher who he was. There wasn't much about him in books, any book for that matter, except one about famous witches and wizards. It had been titled; 'The most powerful Witches and Wizards in the world: The Good and the Bad.' Inside they'd predictably found recognisable names, Lord Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore and Newt Scamander to name a few. The further back they went though they had found Oykron Morte's name had ran alongside Olivanna Black's name.

In a brief overview about Morte, it described him to have tuned against the world, against Muggles, when his mother had been murdered by a group of Muggle men after discovering she was a Witch. From there he spiralled and turned to the Dark Arts to take over the world and abolish Muggles and Muggle-Borns.

From across the tent Hermione was cutting Harry's hair, "Oh my God." She said aloud after snipping another lock of his hair off. At her words Olivia closed the book, intrigued, and rose a curious brow.

"What?" Harry panicked, feeling the nape of his neck worriedly.

Hermione stood up and ran to where they had a table set up, out of Olivia's view, "I'll tell you in a minute."

Harry, still looking shocked, looked from Hermione and over to Olivia before getting out of his chair and following Hermione quickly, "Maybe you could tell me now."

Olivia sighed as they both disappeared out of view, around the corner, and listened to see if it would be a conversation worth listening to, "The Sword of Gryffindor, it's Goblin made." Hermione said.

"Brilliant." Harry said sarcastically.

"No, you don't understand." Hermione said, "Dirt and rust have no effect on the blade. It only takes in that which makes it stronger."

"Okay?" Harry stuttered slowly. Olivia furrowed her brows to herself and thought about the Sword of Gryffindor. She'd never seen it herself, of course, but there had to be a reason for Hermione bringing it up surely. She uncrossed her legs and sat up into a seating position, dropping the book beside her she stood up from her bed and walked over to where she and Harry had disappeared from.

"What are you on to here?" She asked.

Hermione stood at the far end of the table with her wand in her hand, "You've only destroyed one Horcrux right?" She asked rhetorically as Harry picked up an open book, "Tom Riddle's diary in the Chamber of Secrets."

"With a Basilisk Fang," Harry said confused, "If you're telling me you've got one of those in that bloody beaded bag of yours—"