As I sit inside the large tub my mind races. Was Ron even okay? Did he make it back home? The thoughts were deafening. As I sink down deep into the warm water and the layered bubbles I feel a slight sense of calm fall over me. Ron might be an idiot. But he can at least tell when it's gone to far. There is no way he'll stay away for long. Especially with Hermione here. He loves her way to much to abandoned her out here. A soft rap on the door calls my attention to the dark wooden door.

"Y/n are you okay in there?" I hear Harry ask in a quiet voice.

"Yeah yeah," I call out as I push back my messy purple locks. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Alright. Um warning though Hermione's in the office she's not doing well," he says. I withhold a response. Where any of us doing well? I know for a fact that with each passing day I was getting more and more restless and homesick. As he footsteps retreat I pull myself from the tub and wrap the soft dark blue towel around my body. The biggest upside to bringing us here was the fact that we got all the facilities and resources we need. Along with a few luxuries like the soft beds and fancy tubs. I step towards the sink counter to grab my clothes. Dropping the towel and quickly pulling on the clean clothes. Next I move the towel to my dripping locks to dry them the best I could.

"Master? Finn would like to know if Master would like some tea?" Finn says from the other side of the door.

"Yeah just give me a second," I say to him. I step forward and open the door to see the short elf holding the tea tray. "Thanks Finn. Be sure to get some down to Hermione."

"Yes Master. Finn will Master," he says quickly as I take my cup. Once it reaches my lips the elf moves away. I grip the cup tightly as I walk back to my room. Sitting down onto my floor with photo albums spread around my floor. I was looking at them before I jumped in the bath. Hundreds of pictures of my with my friends. Plenty of Draco and I. One particularly amazing photo of Draco and I dancing at the Yule Ball. Flipping through them was how I spent most of my free time. Any other time of the day was spent trying to find where the sword could be.

"You're neighbors have Christmas trees out," Hermione says in a soft voice. I look up to see the weak brunette standing before me.

"They always were the festive type," I say to her, "not that you can tell by the distance."

"It's already Christmas time," she says. I nod sadly.

"It's snowing," I say to her, "has been since Thursday." My eyes trail to the covered windows. Small breaks in the fabric show the soft snow falling against the ground. "I wonder if anyone else is getting the snow."

"Snow? Snow!" Hermione exclaims quickly before rushing off. I look around in confusion. Was she really loosing her mind like that??

"Hermione Wait!" I call as I jump up from the ground and rush after her. We get down the hall to the office and she climbs in a chair grabbing her book to examine it. "Hermione what in Slytherin-"

"Shush!" She exclaims then buries her face into her book. In defeat I sigh and pull a book from my father collection. As time passes and countless attempts at conversation fail I decide rather to let Hermione work and look through things myself. So both of us sit across from each other curled in the large chairs.

"Hermione? Y/n?" Harry calls as he joins us.

"Hmm?" Hermione says not even looking up. I look from the book to Harry and smirk.

"Yeah that's not happening," I say to him boldly, "she's been like that for hours."

"Well you've both got to listen," he says, "so Hermione, I've been thinking, and—"

"Could you help me with something Y/n?" She says now looking up. She sees Harry and smiles. "Hey Harry when did you get here?"

"Never mind that," I say stopping the boy from speaking. "What is it?" She holds her book over to me and points to an inky symbol.

"Look at that symbol," she says, pointing to the top of a page. Above the title of the story there was a picture of what looked like a triangular eye, its pupil crossed with a vertical line. "Harry you too."

"I never took Ancient Runes, Hermione," Harry says. I roll my eyes.

"I know that," she says. "but it isn't a rune and it's not in the syllabary, either. All along I thought it was a picture of an eye, but I don't think it is! It's been inked in, look, somebody's drawn it there, it isn't really part of the book. Think, have you ever seen it before?"

"It seems very familiar," I say to them.

"No... No, wait a moment." Harry looks closer. "Isn't it the same symbol Luna's dad was wearing round his neck?" I look closer to see the triangle.

"Possibly?" I say, "But I swear I know it from somewhere else."

"Well, that's what I thought too!" Hermione exclaims.

"Then it's Grindelwald's mark," Harry says simply.

"What?"

"Krum told me..." he says quickly recounting the story.

"Grindelwald's mark? I've never heard that Grindelwald had a mark. There's no mention of it in anything I've ever read about him."

"It's not Grindelwald's Mark," I say to him, "I'm telling you that now."

"Well, like I say, Krum reckoned that symbol was carved on a wall at Durmstrang, and Grindelwald put it there," Harry says.

"It couldn't," I say to them, "if it was something that went with dark magic the minister would of seized it."

"I know..." Hermione starts, "Perhaps he thought it was an eye, just like I did. All the other stories have little pictures over the titles."

"Perhaps it's not a symbol of dark magic," I say to them. The conversation dies down and I return to reading about bowtruckles.

"Y/n, Hermione," Harry says carefully.

"Yeah?" I ask as I tilt my head at the boy.

"I've been thinking," he says, "I—I want to go to Godric's Hollow." My eyes widen and Hermione sighs.

"Yes," she says, "Yes, I've been wondering that too. I really think we'll have to."

"Did you hear me right?" he asks in disbelief.

"Of course I did. You want to go to Godric's Hollow. I agree, I think we should. I mean, I can't think of anywhere else it could be either. It'll be dangerous, but the more I think about it, the more likely it seems it's there."

"Er—what's there?" Harry asks looking at me and I shrug.

"Got me beat this time. I think it's an awful idea," I say to him.

"Well, the sword, Harry! Dumbledore must have known you'd want to go back there, and I mean, Godric's Hollow is Godric Gryffindor's birthplace—"

"Really? Gryffindor came from Godric's Hollow?"

"Harry, did you ever even open A History of Magic?"

"Erm," he says smiling. "I might've opened it, you know, when I bought it... just the once..."

"Translation," I say smiling, "is he's never once read it. You're missing out by the way Harry."

"Well, as the village is named after him I'd have thought you might have made the connection," Hermione says finally sounding like her self. "There's a bit about the village in A History of Magic, wait..." she grabs her bag and rummages through it. Finally pulling out her History of Magic book. "'Upon the signature of the International Statute of Secrecy in 1689, wizards went into hiding for good. It was natural, perhaps, that they formed their own small communities within a community. Many small villages and hamlets attracted several magical families, who banded together for mutual support and protection. The villages of Tinworth in Cornwall, Upper Flagley in Yorkshire, and Ottery St. Catchpole on the south coast of England were notable homes to knots of Wizarding families who lived alongside tolerant and sometimes Confunded Muggles. Most celebrated of these half-magical dwelling places is, perhaps, Godric's Hollow, the West Country village where the great wizard Godric Gryffindor was born, and where Bowman Wright, Wizarding smith, forged the first Golden Snitch. The graveyard is full of the names of ancient magical families, and this accounts, no doubt, for the stories of hauntings that have dogged the little church beside it for many centuries.'"

"You and your parents aren't mentioned," I say as she puts away the book.

"Only because Professor Bagshot doesn't cover anything later than the end of the nineteenth century," Hermione says, "But you see? Godric's Hollow, Godric Gryffindor, Gryffindor's sword; don't you think Dumbledore would have expected you to make the connection?"

"Oh yeah..."

"Or maybe we are reaching a bit,"I say, "regardless is we go carefully to investigate. Agreed?"

"Alright," Harry says as Hermione nods. I take the silence as a chance to look back to my book before Harry speaks again.

"Remember what Muriel said?" he asks eventually.

"Who?" Hermione asks.

"You know," he hesitates, "Ginny's great-aunt. At the wedding. The one who said you had skinny ankles."

"Oh," Hermione says.

"I hate that woman," I huff, "she called Fred nasty and me pathetic."

"Anyways," Harry says sensing the tension, "She said Bathilda Bagshot still lives in Godric's Hollow."

"Then we have to go," I say to them, "of all people Dumbledore would trust the sword to it would be her."

"Of course!" Hermione says, "even better they think she's gaga. It would be a great cover!"

"Yeah, he might have done! So, are we going to go to Godric's Hollow?" Harry asks.

"Yes, but we'll have to think it through carefully, Harry," Hermione says now sitting up. The prospect of having a plan was lifting the spirits of all of us. "We'll need to practice Disapparating together under the Invisibility Cloak for a start, and perhaps Disillusionment Charms would be sensible too, unless you think we should go the whole hog and use Polyjuice Potion? In that case we'll need to collect hair from somebody. I actually think we'd better do that, Harry, the thicker our disguises the better..."

"We ran out of Polyjuice," I say quietly not trying to crush the great energy in the room. "I can brew some."

"Then its settled. We're going to Godric's Hollow."

****

A week later through planning and collecting we finally set out for Godric's Hollow. Hermione disguised as a mousey house wife, Harry a balding man, and I a small woman. The three of us together under the invisibility cloak while the soft cold breeze blows over us.

"These decorations are beautiful," I say as we walk past the brightly decorated houses.

"All this snow!" Hermione whispers beneath the cloak. "Why didn't we think of snow? After all our precautions, we'll leave prints! We'll just have to get rid of them—you two go in front, I'll do it—"

"Let's take off the Cloak," Harry says, "Oh, come on, we don't look like us and there's no one around."

"Maybe He's right Hermione," I say as I shrug off the cloak. I step ahead them as Harry seizes the cloak causing terror to spread across Hermione's face.

"Y/n get back here!" She whisper yells as I walk into the village ahead of them. Slowly they follow and our faces are lit with the colorful Christmas lights. As we examine our surroundings I realize how close to Christmas it has to be.

"I think it's Christmas Eve!" Hermione exclaims.

"Is it?" Harry asks.

"Oh no," I say sadly, "Fred must be worried sick. He thought I'd be home by Christmas." Harry places a hand on my back as I sigh.

"I'm sure it is," Hermione says, her eyes upon the church. "They... they'll be in there, won't they? Your mum and dad? I can see the graveyard behind it."

"Let's stop in," I say watching carefully for a reaction from Harry. He nods lightly. We step through the snow covered gates to reach the dark solemn graveyard. At the center of the grave yard stood a statue of a family. A mother and Mather standing while the mother holds a small baby.

"Harry look," Hermione says to the boy. He looks over to the statue. Opinions clearly conflicting as he quickly looks down to the ground. I take a step towards him and take his hand.

"Not to be one of those girls or anything," I say to him as his eyes flicker to me, "but you look like you need some support." He nods before gripping my hand tightly. Carefully he steps forwards to examine the statue of him and his family. The soft details of their features. Slowly he leaves the statue and walks towards the other graves. I watch quietly as he looks.

"Look at this, it's an Abbott, could be some long-lost relation of Hannah's!" Harry says.

"Keep your voice down," Hermione begs him. I look carefully at the graves around us. Trailing my eyes around the names. Nothing stuck out to me. And this wasn't as therapeutic as it was for Harry. My parents, like the rest of my family, were buried in a tomb at the manor. It simply was a cold dark cemetery to me. Yet to this boy, it was all he could ever see of his parents. That I could relate to. Seeing a cold stone represent the person or people who were supposed to protect you was a different experience.

"Guys here!" Hermione says. He and I quickly move. Our grasps still locked together.

"Is it—?" He starts.

"No, but look!" Hermione says pointing to the dark stone. We look to see the names 'Kendra Dumbledore' and 'Ariana' along with their respective birth and death dates.  Along with the quote "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

"So Rita Skeeter was kinda right," I say, "Dumbledore did live here."

"Yet?"

"Not all of the story is true," I say to him, "this just happened to be."

"Are you sure he never mentioned—?" Hermione begins.

"No," Harry says curtly, then, "let's keep looking," and he turns away. His hand still firmly gripping mine. We spilt again searching for the stone in the quiet court.

"Here!"  Hermione calls again a few moments later from out of the darkness. "Oh no, sorry! I thought it said Potter." As I see another dark stone I pull Harry back.

"Harry look at this," I say quickly, "look look what it is!"

"Is it?"

"No no look at it. It's the symbol," I say to him, "Hermione come here!" She rushes and looks at the stone seeing the symbol her face lights up.

"It's the symbol!" She says gleefully.

"I know," I say lighting my wand to examine the illegible name.

"It says Ig—Ignotus, I think..." Hermione says.

"I'm going to keep looking for my parents, all right?" Harry says. I move with Harry leaving her crouched beside the old grave. As we move his breath hitches as he stops. "That's it." And it was. We step towards the white marble.

"Hermione here," I call once we reach it.

"JAMES POTTER              LILY POTTER

BORN 27 MARCH 1960 BORN 30 JANUARY 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981"

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death'..." Harry says. "Isn't that a Death Eater idea? Why is that there?"

"It doesn't mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry," Hermione says, her voice gentle. "It means... you know... living beyond death. Living after death."

"Right," I say despite feeling the stupidity behind the statement. As Hermione makes roses Harry pulls us away. "Wow wow what?"

"Harry, stop," Hermione orders.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks.

"There's someone there. Someone watching us. I can tell. There, over by the bushes," Hermione says. The words sending me in a panic.

"So we are disguised as muggles," Harry says.

"Who are standing over your parents grave using magic," I say to him quietly.

"It's a cat," says Harry, after a second or two, "or a bird. If it was a Death Eater we'd be dead by now. But let's get out of here, and we can put the Cloak back on."

"Fine," I say reluctantly as I clutch my wand under my jacket.

"How are we going to find Bathilda's house?" asks Hermione, who was shivering a little and kept glancing back over her shoulder. "Harry? What do you think? Harry?"

"Harry," I say pulling slightly on his arms. He was looking toward the dark mass that stood at the very end of this row of houses. The next moment he speeds up, dragging Hermione and I along with him.

"Harry—" Hermione says but he stops us.

"Look... Look at it," He says softly. Before us was a dark wild and destroyed house. It was Harry's. All that was separating us from the house was a large rusted gate.

"Wow," I say breathlessly watching the boy trace his hand along the dark metal gate.

"I wonder why nobody's ever rebuilt it?" Hermione whispers.

"Maybe you can't rebuild it?" Harry replies. "Maybe it's like the injuries from Dark Magic and you can't repair the damage?"

"Possibly Or they decided to it alone out of respect," I offer. He push the gate slightly and Hermione jumps.

"You're not going to go inside? It looks unsafe, it might—" Hermione rants as a sign slowly rises from the ground through the mess of flowers.

"Look!" I say quickly pointing to the sign. The gold letters stock out on the sign. The slight wear making them harder to read. But I coul make it out as:

"On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,
Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family. Good luck, Harry, wherever you are."

Separate handwritten messages filled the sign. Some names other messages for the boy who lived.

"If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you!Long live Harry Potter."

"They shouldn't have written on the sign! Hermione says, indignant.

"Why not?" I ask her, "they all are nice."

"It's brilliant. I'm glad they did. I..." he beams before stopping completely. His eyes staring off . I follow his glare to the figure of a small old woman. Hermione's breath hitches in her throat. What could we even do at this point?
"Are you Bathilda?"

"Be careful," I warn as I reach for my wand.

"Harry, I'm not sure about this," breaths Hermione.

"Look at the size of her; I think we could overpower her if we had to," Harry says. "Listen, I should have told you, I knew she wasn't all there. Muriel called her 'gaga.'"

"I don't trust her," I say to Harry, "she's acting strange."

"Come!" calls Bathilda leading us to another building. I move first blocking the disguised Harry from her. As we get to her house a strong foul odour fills the air.

"Yuck," I say instinctively as I cover my mouth. The lady seemed unbothered while Hermione stares at me like I had just murdered a child. Bathilda opens the door and leads us inside the house.

"It's okay," Harry says softly to Hermione and I as we tensely walk through the house. Beside the smell the actual house was dingy and overall filthy. It seemed as if the old woman was left to fend for herself and seemed to forget she had magic. Lazily and clumsily she lights candles throughout the room by hand.

"Let me do that," offers Harry, and he takes the matches from her. She stands watching him as he finishes lighting the candle stubs that stood on saucers around the room. I move closer to Hermione as he surveys the room.

"Mrs.—Miss—Bagshot?" Harry says, and his voice shook slightly. "Who is this?"
"Miss Bagshot?" Harry repeats, and he advances with the picture in his hands as the flames burst into life in the fireplace. Bathilda looks up at his voice, and the Horcrux beat faster upon his chest.

"Who is this person?" Harry asks her, pushing the picture forward. "Do you know who this is?" he repeats in a much slower and louder voice than usual. "This man? Do you know him? What's he called?" Bathilda merely looked vague. I look over Harry's shoulder to see the picture of the relaxed blond.
"Who is this man?" he repeats loudly.

"Harry, what are you doing?" asksHermione.

"This picture, Hermione, it's the thief, the thief who stole from Gregorovitch! Please!" he says to Bathilda. "Who is this?" She only stares.

"I don't like this," I mumble, "Harry we should go."

"Why did you ask us to come with you, Mrs.—Miss—Bagshot?" asks Hermione raising her own voice. "Was there something you wanted to tell us?" The old lady without saying anything walks forward and whips her head over to the corner away from us.

"You want us to leave?" he asks. She repeats the gesture, this time pointing firstly at him, then at herself, then at the ceiling. "Oh, right... Hermione, Y/n, I think she wants me to go upstairs with her."

"All right," Hermione says looking, "let's go."

"Yeah come on," I say watching the woman closely. As Hermione and I move Bathilda shakes her head with surprising vigor. Once more pointing to herself and Harry.

"She wants me to go with her, alone." Harry says.

"Not a chance," I say to him, "her that you crazy hag. Not. A. Chance."

"Y/n come on," Harry says.

"Why?" Hermione asks, and her voice rings out sharp and clear in the candlelit room; the old lady shakes her head a little at the loud noise.

"Maybe Dumbledore told her to give the sword to me, and only to me?"

"Do you really think she knows who you are?"

"Yes," Harry says, looking down into the milky eyes fixed upon his own, "I think she does."

"I think she's fucking crazy and you are two for trusting her," I say crossing my arms, "you aren't going alone."

"What's a tiny old lady gonna do?" He asks.

"A tiny old lady with a wand can do a lot more than you imagine," I say to Harry.

"This might be the only way we get the sword," Harry says. I look between him and Bathilda. What if it was the only way to the sword? Beside the sneaking suspension filling my gut I had to put the possibility first.

"Fine," I huff.

"Well, okay then, but be quick, Harry." Hermione says.

"Lead the way," Harry tells Bathilda. They shuffle off leaving Hermione and I still disguised sitting in the foul smelling room. The growing nerves filling my core triple within seconds of silence. In the distance I hear the abrasive sound of a parselmouth.

"I'm going up there," I say as we pull my wand from my pocket. Slowly I walk towards the steps with Hermione. I quietly reach the upstairs room and see the dark long snake coiled around Harry's throat. "Shit." I mumble before sending a spell to hit the snake. Hermione matches and two bright red flashes fill the room.

"He's coming! Guys, he's coming!" Harry yells as the snake smashes into things among the room. Harry dives over the bed into Hermione and I. "Confringo" He screams hitting the wardrobe mirror causing it to smash and scatter over the room. A large piece cutting a thick gash on my cheek. Before we could leave Harry shakes and twitches in pain. His scar and the building messing with him more than anything else. As he screams loudly I look to Hermione in Panic.

"What do we do? We can't stay here," I say quickly as I pull his head onto my lap to keep him from injuring himself. Hermione cups his cheek and attempts to calm him.

"No..." he whimpers.

"Harry, it's all right, you're all right!" Hermione says in a soft comforting voice.

"Yeah come on Harry," I say, "come on you're alright." His screams echos again and I pull him and Hermione closer. "Forget it I'm apparating us."

"Fine just do it now !" Hermione snaps. Quickly we all start to apparate. The loud pop and a thud as we land on the hard ground of the entrance hall.

"Let's get him upstairs," I say to her. Her takes one side and we pull the boy as best we could back to the room he's staying in. Once we get him laid down Hermione's hand seizes my cheek.

"You're hurt," she says as I pull away.

"It's just a scratch," I sigh as I push back Harry's thick mess of hair to reveal his scar. "I hope he's okay."

"Just let me bandage it," Hermione says cupping my cheek. I sigh and let down my protest.

"Fine but quickly," I say. Taking the words literally she grabs the healers kit and automatically starts working on bandaging the jagged cut. Now finally both of us had returned to our normal appearances. Despite the new cut formed on my face.

"At least you don't whine as much as Harry does when I do this," Hermione chuckles slightly.

"I'm a big strong woman so ya know," I say to Her smiling slightly as she wipes down the cut.

"Sure," She says her smiling dropping, "Are you worried about this being a waste of time at all?"

"No," I say sincerely, "I know us doing this is helping."

"Is it enough?" She asks.

"More than. We're doing the right thing. Just like every other year these last seven years. We are doing the right thing not the easy thing," I say to her as she places a gauze pad over my cheek.

"You're right," she says.

"I always am," I chuckle.

*****

"No... I dropped it... I dropped it..." Harry groans loudly causing Hermione and I to jump up from our corners and rush to him.

"Harry, it's okay, wake up, wake up!" Hermione says.

"Come on Harry wake up!" I exclaim. Slowly his eyes open and settle on Hermione and I.

"Harry," Hermione whispers. "Do you feel all—all right?"

"Yes," He says. I nod.

"You sure?" I ask him.

"Yeah, we got away?" Harry asks. I nod.

"Yes," Hermione. "We has to pull you into bed. You've been... Well, you haven't been quite..."

"You've been ill," I say quickly, "Quite ill."

"How long ago did we leave?" He asks carefully.

"Hours ago. It's nearly morning," Hermione says.

"Everyone is okay thou," I say softly.

"And I've been... what, unconscious?" He asks.

"Not exactly," says Hermione uncomfortably. "You've been shouting and moaning and... things."

"You're just a little sick," I say to him, "it's nothing."

"I couldn't get the Horcrux off you," Hermione says and he knew she wanted to change the subject. "It was stuck, stuck to your chest. You've got a mark; I'm sorry, I had to use a Severing Charm to get it away. The snake bit you too, but I've cleaned the wound and put some dittany on it..."

"Where've you put the horcruex?" Harry asks quickly. I sigh.

"The safe," I say, "you aren't getting it."

"We shouldn't have gone to Godric's Hollow. It's my fault, it's all my fault, Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry says.

"It's not your fault. I wanted to go too; I really thought Dumbledore might have left the sword there for you."

"I was so sure she had the sword," I say looking to him.

"Yeah, well... we got that wrong, didn't we?"

"What happened, Harry? What happened when she took you upstairs? Was the snake hiding somewhere? Did it just come out and kill her and attack you?" Hermione asks listing her questions off.

"No," he says, "She was the snake... or the snake was her... all along."

"W-what?"

"That's why," I mumble. She was the parselmouth I heard.

"Bathilda must've been dead a while. The snake was... was inside her. You-Know-Who put it there in Godric's Hollow, to wait. You were right. He knew I'd go back."

"The snake was inside her?"

"Lupin said there would be magic we'd never imagined," Harry says, "She didn't want to talk in front of you, because it was Parseltongue, she knew Y/n would be able to understand her but would realise it wasn't a witch saying it."

"Yeah," I say to him, "that makes sense."

"I didn't realise she was speaking it, but of course I could understand her. Once we were up in the room, the snake sent a message to You-Know-Who, I heard it happen inside my head, I felt him get excited, he said to keep me there... and then...she changed, changed into the snake, and attacked."

"Salazar sake," I say breathlessly as my eyes fall   on the bite mark from the snake.

"It wasn't supposed to kill me, just keep me there till You-Know-Who came," Harry says as he gets up to move.

"Harry sit back down!" I order.

"Harry, no, I'm sure you ought to rest!"

"You two are the ones who need sleep. No offense, but you both look terrible. I'm fine. I'll keep watch for a while. Where's my wand?" Harry says. Hermione and I exchange a knowing look. The broken wand was sitting deep in my pocket.

"Where's my wand?" He asks. We stay silent. He firmly looks to Hermione. "Hermione?"
She was biting her lip, and tears swim in her eyes.

"Harry..." she says. He looks to me.

"Y/n? Where's my wand?" He asks firmly. I sigh.

"Fine," I say reaching into my pocket. I pull out the snapped wand and hand it to him.

"Mend it. Please," he pleads to us.

"Harry, I don't think, when it's broken like this—"

"Please someone, try!"

"R-Reparo."

"It's not gonna work," I say to them as it lends. Harry sends me a smug look. "Fine try a spell.

"Fine," he says, "Lumos!" It sparks before quickly going out. He growls slighting. "Expelliarmus!" Hermione wand jerks slightly but nothing happens.

"Harry," Hermione whispers so quietly he could hardly hear her. "I'm so, so sorry. I think it was me. It must have—must have hit—"

"It was an accident," Harry says mechanically. "We'll—we'll find a way to repair it."

"It can't be," I say to him, "it won't ever work right."

"Remember... remember Ron? When he broke his wand, crashing the car? It was never the same again, he had to get a new one," Hermione explains with tears streaming down her face.

"Well," he says, in a falsely matter-of-fact voice, "well, I'll just borrow one of yours for now, then. While I keep watch."

"Alright it settled," I say standing up, "now Hermione love lets get you to bed." She slowly stands up as she whimpers loudly. I wrap my arm around her and walk her from Harry's room. "You rest Harry. I'll stand watch."

"B-but"

"Nope lay down," I hiss as I shut the door. Moving down to settle Hermione in her room. Soon we get into her room, an old guest room that Finn straightened up for her.

"I didn't mean to break it," she chokes.

"I'm sure it's fine Mione," I say as I pull the blanket over her, "we both have Wands and we will get him one soon." She sniffles and I smile. "It all will be fine okay."

"Alright," She says. I nod and step away from the bed.

"Goodnight Hermione," I say to her as I step from the room.

"Night," she mumbles softly. As I shut the door the weight of the issue of a now wandless Harry hits me. The one that needs a wand more than anything has lost it. What are we going to do?