⚠️Put the song on⚠️
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Astria lay on her sleeping bag, gazing at the sky. Inside the tent, Ron still had the cursed radio on, tuning in to the missing persons list, hoping none of his family members would be mentioned.
The noise used to irritate her a few days ago. But now, with each name listed, especially those she cared about, not mentioned, it was a huge relief, albeit a selfish one.
Her and Harry's names were now mentioned as 'the children who disappeared.' They were seen as cowards who had fled to save themselves.
She inwardly cursed herself for it. Indeed, she should be rallying, calling for a rebellion. But they needed to destroy the horcruxes. Without that, there would be no hope.
She entered the tent when she felt the first raindrop on her forehead, grimacing at the sensation. She got up, grabbed the sleeping bag, and dragged it inside. Hermione was cutting Harry's hair, causing more havoc than fixing.
"You know, with this rusty blade, the cut will hardly come out even," Astria mocked with a wry smile, folding a sheet and sitting in the corner of the tent.
"What did you expect? A goblin blade?" Hermione retorted, making more cuts. Harry's previous thick tufts of hair fell to the ground like fallen soldiers.
Evidence of the massacre Hermione was doing on Harry's head. Perhaps, indeed, with a decent blade, she would do better. Hell, even a cutting spell would be better.
Goblin blade. ─ The word echoed in Astria's head several times before she felt her own eyes widen, and, like in a cartoon, a lightbulb lit up above her head.
"Oh, Merlin... Granger! Goblin blade! Gryffindor's sword is made of goblin metal!"
"Oh, my God!" Hermione screamed in a high-pitched tone, dropping the old blade and rushing to the improvised kitchen in search of something. "Of course!"
"What?" Harry asked nervously, running his hand through his hair to assess the damage Hermione had done.
"The sword is made of goblin metal. The goblins mentioned it earlier."
"Brilliant..."
"No, you don't understand," Astria said, rolling her eyes. "Dirt and rust don't affect the metal. It only absorbs what strengthens it."
"Okay," Harry muttered, scratching his neck. And Hermione huffed, pulling out the book to show him.
"Harry, you killed the basilisk using Gryffindor's sword, right? But do you remember how Astria destroyed that horcrux?"
Harry's eyes widened, as big as two suns. Mouth wide open when he finally understood.
"The basilisk's blood. And the metal is coated. You said it absorbs to strengthen itself..."
"The sword's metal is filled with basilisk venom. That's why Dumbledore left it for you. He knew we could use it," Astria said with a broad smile. "I remember grabbing some fangs in the chamber. But I left everything with Narcissa; I think she kept it for potions. It's in her room at Hogwarts. Our only hope would be to find the sword."
"The sword can destroy the horcruxes... You two are brilliant!" Harry said, solemnly. The three, so focused, discussing theories and ways to find the sword over the soft sound of rain, didn't notice the fourth presence in the small improvised room until the only source of light went out. And the familiar sound of Ron's Deluminator was heard in the room.
"The sword has been stolen," he said, activating the device again, the light hovering behind him, illuminating a tired and somber expression. "Yes... I'm still here. But you can continue. Don't let me be a killjoy."
Harry sighed, closing the book and turning to face his friend. "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? Nothing's wrong. I don't agree with you anyway, do I?" Ron said sarcastically.
"If you have something to say, don't be shy. Spit it out," Astria growled, clenching her fists. She was exhausted from dealing with Ron's nonsense. Among all of them, his mind was the most turbulent. She tried to ignore it because of the amulet's influence. But this was unacceptable. None of them behaved this way.
"Why? You can delve into my mind, can't you?" Ron said challengingly. "Tell them if you're so inclined. You know what? I'll tell them myself. Don't expect me to be grateful because now we have one more bloody thing to find."
"I thought you knew what you were getting into," Harry said, frowning in annoyance.
"Yeah, I thought so too," Ron said bitterly.
Plop, plop, plop: the rain fell harder and heavier, splashing on the river and the leaf-covered bank all around, drumming through the darkness.
"It's not like I'm having a blast here," Ron continued. "You know, with this broken arm from that damn attack in Grimmauld Place and nothing to eat, and my arse freezing every night. I just hoped, you know, after wandering in circles for a few weeks, that we would have achieved something. You" - he pointed rudely at Astria. "Are supposed to be a seer, aren't you?"
"Ron," Hermione said, but in a voice so low that the boy could pretend not to have heard because of the rain pounding on the tent's roof.
"What part isn't meeting your expectations?" Astria asked, anger exploding in an attempt to defend herself. "Did you think we would stay in five-star hotels? Find a horcrux every day? Did you think you would go back to spend Christmas with mom and dad in a lavish dinner and announce to the world the victory of finding an object to destroy Voldemort?"
"We thought you knew what you were doing!" Ron yelled, advancing abruptly. His posture completely hostile and aggressive. Something he had never done before. Harry stood in front of Astria, and Hermione raised her wand.
"Why? You can delve into my mind, can't you?" Ron said, challengingly. "Tell them if you're so inclined. You know what? I'll tell them myself. Don't expect me to be grateful because now we have one more bloody thing to find."
"I thought you knew what you were getting into," Harry said, frowning in annoyance.
"Yeah, I thought so too," Ron said bitterly.
Plop, plop, plop: the rain fell harder and heavier, splashing on the river and the leaf-covered bank all around, drumming through the darkness.
"It's not like I'm having a blast here," Ron continued. "You know, with this broken arm from that damn attack in Grimmauld Place and nothing to eat, and my arse freezing every night. I just hoped, you know, after wandering in circles for a few weeks, that we would have achieved something. You" ─ he pointed rudely at Astria. "Are supposed to be a seer, aren't you?"
"Ron," Hermione said, but in a voice so low that the boy could pretend not to have heard because of the rain pounding on the tent's roof.
"What part isn't meeting your expectations?" Astria asked, anger exploding in an attempt to defend herself. "Did you think we would stay in five-star hotels? Find a horcrux every day? Did you think you would go back to spend Christmas with mom and dad in a lavish dinner and announce to the world the victory of finding an object to destroy Voldemort?"
"Oi! We thought you knew what you were doing!" Ron yelled, advancing abruptly. His posture completely hostile and aggressive. Something he had never done before. Harry stood in front of Astria, and Hermione raised her wand.
"Why are you listening to that radio every night?" Ron said angrily. "To make sure they don't mention Ginny's name. Or Fred's, or George's, or my mother's."
"Don't you think we listen too?" Astria shouted. "We worry too!"
"We know what that's like," Harry argued. "We also..."
"No!" Ron shouted, advancing towards the two. "You don't know what that's like! Your parents are dead! You have no family!"
Astria froze. The rain hammered on the tent, tears streamed down Hermione's face, and the excitement from minutes before vanished as if it had never existed, a short-lived firework that had burst and died, leaving everything dark, wet, and cold.
"Then LEAVE!" Harry shouted, advancing. "Go back to them, pretend you've cured your spattergroit, and Mum can stuff you with food, and..."
Ron made a sudden move, he and Harry colliding in punches and kicks. Astria reacted, but before they drew their wands from their pockets,
Hermione had already raised hers.
"Protego!" she commanded, and an invisible shield expanded between her, Astria, and Harry on one side, and Ron on the other. All were forced to step back a few paces, due to the force of the spell, and the boys stared at each other on either side of the barrier as if seeing each other clearly for the first time.
Astria's chest ached. She had never been close to the redhead. But Harry had been, and the look of hatred in his green eyes made something very clear.
Something in their friendship had broken there. Something that might never be mended.
"Leave the horcrux," Harry reminded, reaching out to help Astria up without looking anyone in the eyes.
Ron ripped the chain off his head and threw the locket onto a nearby chair. He turned to Hermione then.
"What are you going to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you staying, or what?"
"I..." She seemed distressed, her eyes red from crying. "I'm... I am. Ron, we said we would come with Harry, promised to help both of them. We said we would help..."
"I get it. You choose to stay with them. You choose him."
"Ron, no... please... come back, come back!"
She was hindered by the Shield Charm itself until she removed it; by then, the boy had stormed out into the night in anger. Astria shouted, knocking over the lantern and kicking the tent pole. The glass shattered on the ground, and the fire spread through the curtains. It took a full minute to draw her wand and extinguish the imminent fire.
With Harry exceptionally quiet, aside from Astria's curses and the sound of falling rain, the only sound was Hermione's sobs calling for Ron among the trees. After some time, she returned, hair dripping, clinging to her wet face. Clothes soaked, shoulders slumped in defeat.
"He's g-g-gone! Disapparated!" She threw herself into a chair, curled up, and fell into tears.
Astria observed the girl for a moment. Drenched from the rain and shivering from the cold, she quickly grabbed the horcrux Ron had left on the chair and pocketed it.
Then, she cast a warming spell and covered Hermione with a blanket. Without a word, she moved to the back of the tent, avoiding her gaze.
From the makeshift room shared by Ron and Harry came a muffled sob. It was Harry. He cried quietly on the bunk, trying not to disturb the others.
The next day, no one felt like talking. Astria was the first to prepare something for them to eat. It wasn't a feast, but at least it would curb their hunger.
Hermione went out to gather some mushrooms and fruits. She didn't wish a good morning, but she placed a flower next to Astria, quickly diverting her gaze stained with tears, heading to the back of the tent.
Suspicious, Astria picked up the flower. It was a daffodil, her favorite flower. But she knew Hermione picked it because it would remind Astria of Narcissa.
It was a simple gesture, but so meaningful that tears quickly blurred her vision before delicately enchanting the flower and putting it in her hair.
They had breakfast in silence. Hermione's eyes were swollen and red; she seemed not to have slept.
She occasionally glanced at the daffodil Astria had placed in her hair. And despite doing it discreetly, Astria noticed the faint smile on her lips.
They decided to change their location to avoid being tracked by Death Eaters. Astria picked up a map and spun it, leaving the destination to chance.
The muddy river nearby was rising rapidly and would soon overflow the bank. They lingered for a good hour beyond the time they would normally leave the camp.
Hermione lingered. Both Astria and Harry knew why the girl wanted to prolong the time by the river; they saw her several times raise her head, hopeful, and were sure she deluded herself, thinking she heard footsteps despite the heavy rain, but no red-haired figure appeared among the trees.
Every time Harry imitated her, looking around but then lowering his head. For there was nothing there except the rain-soaked forest.
Finally, having rearranged her bead bag three times, Hermione seemed unable to find other reasons to delay their departure. She, Astria, and Harry held hands and Apparated, reappearing in a heath, on the wind-battered slope of a hill.
As soon as they arrived, Hermione let go of their hands and stepped back, sitting on a boulder, her face in her knees, her body shaking. Astria knew she was crying from the sobs.
She stopped to watch her, unsure of what to say. She had hated Hermione for so many years. So much teasing, so much jealousy.
And now, for the first time, she felt sympathy.
"I'll secure the area," she whispered to Harry, who just nodded and walked slowly to Hermione, sitting beside her. The two faced the sun, heads resting against each other. Astria looked over her shoulder a few times to check.
Both were crying.
In the days that followed, they did not speak of Ron. It was as if they had made an agreement. They kept busy attempting to determine possible hiding places for Gryffindor's sword, but the more they discussed where Dumbledore could have hidden it, the more desperate and unlikely their speculations became. But there was nothing. They were isolated. Faces plastered in newspapers as the most wanted undesirables in Wizarding England. And not a single damn clue.
At night, Astria cursed Dumbledore's name to the heavens and kicked the stones on the ground, trying to focus on the images she saw in her vision. But despite knowing exactly how the horcruxes looked and only by what they were surrounded, the exact location eluded her completely.
The weather gradually cooled. Not daring to stay in one area for too long, instead of camping in the south of England, where frozen ground would be their worst concern, they continued to zigzag across the country. Facing a mountain slope where hail whipped the tent, a flat swamp where the tent was flooded with icy water, and a tiny island in the middle of a Scottish lake where snow buried half of the tent overnight.
Astria used Harry's invisibility cloak more often to steal from supermarkets, rarely leaving coins in the open cash register, at Hermione's requests and pleas.
There were a few Christmas trees twinkling in some houses. When Astria returned to the tent with the bag already filled with stolen food, Hermione was sitting near an old rusty radio, the same one the redhead had left behind. Wrapped in a gray, tattered blanket, she wiped away tears streaming down her face while listening to the soft music coming from the radio.
Astria placed the bag on the table and looked at her two friends, feeling a twinge of sadness. Harry sat in a chair, lost in thought. He blamed himself for Ron. He blamed himself for everything.
She closed her eyes to listen to the music. The notes echoed:
Oh children
Poor old Jim's white as a ghost He's found the answer that we lost
We're all weeping now, weeping because
There ain't nothing we can do to protect you
Smiling, she approached Hermione and extended her hand. She pulled the girl up and removed the horcrux from her neck, placing it on the table next to the radio, watching with raised eyebrows.
"Better, huh?!"
Harry looked at them, smiling. Then Astria extended her hand again, just as the music began to echo:
Hey little train, we're jumping on
The train that goes to the Kingdom
We're happy, Ma, we're having fun
The train ain't even left the station.
They moved their hands to the rhythm of the music. Astria teased Hermione, mimicking her pout. Something that made the girl smile and huff, imitating the swaying movements. And when they realized it, they were dancing. They twirled, huffed, laughed.
Hey little train, wait for me
I once was blind but now I see.
Have you left a seat for me?
Is that such a stretch of the imagination.
Harry stood up, bowed, and took Hermione's hand, pulling her away. Then he did the same with Astria. The three of them smiled, finding it amusing, spinning around each other, poking each other, twirling and smiling in a dramatic dance. They hugged, pushed, caught each other.
The long agony of weeks was gone in that moment. And they agreed not to use the amulet for a while.
At the end of the song, Hermione muffled her face on Harry's shoulder, hugged Astria whispering 'thank you,' and very slowly stepped away to read outside.
That same afternoon. After a well-deserved meal of scrambled eggs. A voice echoed from outside the tent:
"Astria, could you help me here?"
Very slowly, Astria exited the tent to find Hermione sitting among the rocks. She bent forward and handed her a book.
Dumbledore's bequest, the book of tales. The old cover was worn ─ Hermione had read the darn thing until she memorized every letter, comma, and stroke.
"Look at this symbol," she said, pointing to the top of the page. Above what Astria supposed was the title of the tale, it seemed familiar.
Narcissa told her that years ago. "Oh, I know this story," she murmured to herself distractedly before focusing again on the drawing.
It wasn't a rune. At least, not one she had seen before. The symbol resembled a triangular eye, the pupil cut by a line.
"It doesn't look like a rune. I've never seen anything like it in the Spellman Syllabary."
"That's what I thought, it's not a rune, and it's not in the syllabary. All this time, I thought it was an eye, but I think it's not! It was done with ink, look, someone drew it here, it doesn't really belong to the book. Think, have you seen this before?"
"No... wait a minute." Astria looked more closely; she saw something similar. "Harry! Harry, can you come out here?"
They sat, watching the boy stagger out, shielding his eyes from the light. Then he sat in front of them, waiting for an explanation. It took a while. But then his green eyes shone in realization.
"Isn't this the same symbol Luna's father was using hanging around his neck?"
"Well, that's what I thought too!"
"So it's Grindelwald's mark."
Both Astria and Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed.
"What?"
"Krum told me that..." Harry repeated the story Viktor Krum had told him at the wedding. He then explained again about the wand maker. The same man Voldemort killed searching for a stolen wand.
"It's very odd. If it's a symbol of the Dark Arts, what's it doing in a children's storybook?" Hermione said, opening and closing the book. "I... I've been thinking..." Harry began nervously, fidgeting with his hands. "I want to go to Godric's Hollow. It's where I was born. Where my parents died... Our parents, Astria."
"Yes. I've been thinking about that too. I really think we have to go." Hermione murmured quietly.
"You realize that this is something he would expect us to do, right?" Astria said, looking at them seriously. "It's exactly the kind of place that means something to you, Harry. To both of us."
"Yes, but I think we should go." Hermione said. "Also, I can't think of any other place it could be. It will be dangerous, but the more I think about it, the more likely it seems to be there."
She owed it to Gryffindor's sword. The thought screamed in her mind incessantly.
"Do you think?" Astria frowned. "But aside from being the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor. I don't see why it would be there."
"Oh... what's there?" Harry asked.
Upon hearing that, Hermione seemed as confused as he was.
Astria frowned. "The sword," she said impatiently.
"Oh... Why?" Harry repeated, still not understanding.
"Well. Dumbledore certainly knew you would want to go back there, I mean, Godric's Hollow is where you were born too." Hermione explained.
The three stared at each other for long moments.
"I don't think it's a good idea," Astria said nervously.
"Well, two against one," Harry joked, getting up.
"Let's go, but we'll have to plan the trip very carefully." Hermione straightened up in her chair, talking incessantly about disguises, protection, and Polyjuice Potion.
But Astria barely paid attention at that moment. She was about to go to the place where she had lost everything for the first time.
If it weren't for Voldemort, she would have had a family in that village. She would have grown up and spent all school holidays reading by a cozy fireplace, without being punished for making noise or accidental magic mishaps.
She might have invited friends over to her home. Perhaps she would have had brothers and sisters. She would have had a mother.
Dorea would have been a great mother. Astria felt that every time she remembered the glimpses she had of her.
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One week later, after obtaining strands of hair from unsuspecting Muggles doing Christmas shopping, and practicing Apparition and Disapparition tirelessly while using the Invisibility Cloak.
Astria agreed to travel. They should Apparate to the village under the cover of night, so the afternoon was well advanced when they finally drank the Polyjuice Potion. Astria transformed into a young blonde girl.
On the other hand, Harry and Hermione aged, masquerading as an elderly couple walking with their beloved daughter.
The situation was almost laughable.
Astria felt her heart pounding in her throat, closing her eyes as Harry enveloped them with the cloak. Then, hand in hand, they vanished.
A sharp chill warned her when they arrived. They stood hand in hand on a snow-covered lane, under a dark blue sky with the first stars of the night faintly twinkling.
On both sides of the narrow path, there were cozy cottages with Christmas decorations gleaming in the windows. A bit ahead, a golden glow from street lamps illuminated the village center.
"Wow, so much snow!" Hermione whispered under the cloak. "Why didn't we think about the snow? After all the precautions we've taken, we'll leave footprints! We need to get rid of them: you two go ahead, and I'll take care of that..."
"Oh, come on, we don't look like ourselves, and there's no one around. Let's keep the cloak, but we can relax a bit," Harry said, impatiently.
He adjusted the cloak and tucked it into his jacket, and they proceeded more comfortably, the icy air pinching their faces as they passed by other cottages: any one of them could be the one they might have lived in another life.
Astria observed the doors, the crystal-laden roofs, the porches. She imagined what it would have been like to grow up in that village.
It was a paradise of beauty, a stark contrast to the moldy walls of the orphanage. She looked around, searching in every corner.
Then, the lane they were on curved to the left, and the heart of the village, a little square, unfolded before their eyes. All around, there were colorful lights hanging, and in the center, what seemed to be a war memorial, partially shaded by a wind-shaken Christmas tree.
There were several shops, a post office, a pub, and a small church with stained glass windows that sparkled like jewels on the opposite side of the square. The snow there had been compacted: it was hard and slippery where people had walked all day.
"Oh, I think it's Christmas Eve!" Hermione whispered. "Listen... The sound of bells..."
They heard fragments of laughter and pop music as the pub door opened and closed, then caught a Christmas carol being sung in the church.
She had lost track of the date; it had been weeks since they had seen a newspaper.
Astria squinted, trying to contain the excitement. 'Are they here?' - she wondered, leading the way. Then, she saw a war memorial. As they passed by, it transformed. Instead of an obelisk covered with names, there was a statue of six people: a man with unruly hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a beautiful, kind face. Another couple, more serious, with darker eyes.
In the arms of each pair, there was a child. A boy and a little girl.
Snow had settled on their heads, like soft, white caps. Astria approached, staring at their faces.
They entered the cemetery, following the signs that indicated the way. Then, not far from the statue, Astria found the ones she was looking for.
Side by side.
Dorea Shafic, born on August 10, 1943, passed away on October 31, 1981, and Thomas Shafic, born on September 21, 1955, passed away on October 31, 1981.
She knelt, taking a deep breath. In front of her parents' grave, there were those of Lily and James Potter.
Hermione stood in the middle, between Astria and Harry, who were back to back.
Astria gasped when she saw a bouquet of flowers appear right in front of her. And, looking over her shoulder, she saw that Hermione had conjured them and was doing the same for Harry.
"Merry Christmas," Hermione whispered.
Tears came before Astria could contain them, scalding and instantly freezing on her face.
Too weak to pretend she was okay and that she was tough, she let them fall, her lips pressed, eyes fixed on the thick snow covering the place where her parents' remains lay, now surely just bones or dust.
A raven cawed in the background, on a melancholy tree next to the tombstones, an ironic image.
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