“What does the Minister want?”
No sooner had Scrimgeour and Skoll left than Mr. and Mrs. Weasley burst into the living room, their faces tense.
“To give us what Dumbledore left behind,” Harry replied, holding up the golden Snitch in his hand.
At the dining table, the objects left by Dumbledore had been passed from hand to hand, Scrimgeour delivering them with great reluctance. Everyone was disappointed he had refused to give Harry the sword. As for the usefulness of the three items they did receive, no one could quite say.
“Maybe ask Skoll. He ca with the Minister. He probably knows sothing,” said Fred, finishing the last spoonful of his soup.
“But he said he doesn’t know, ”
“Skoll ca because of yesterday’s operation, ”
Ron and Mr. Weasley spoke at the sa ti.
Everyone at the table turned to look at Mr. Weasley.
BANG!
A sharp, jarring sound.
Mrs. Weasley had slamd her spoon down hard on the table, her voice sharp and furious.
“Arthur!? What have you been hiding from this ti!?”
Mr. Weasley swallowed, his eyes darting nervously.
“Don’t even think of dodging it! I’ll know if you’re lying!” she glared at him, demanding an answer.
“I, I…” Mr. Weasley stamred, his voice small and faltering.
Mrs. Weasley’s expression darkened further, anger filling her face.
Just then, the open back door creaked, Skoll had just Apparated into the yard.
Mrs. Weasley moved with surprising speed. The mont Skoll stepped through the door, she was already in front of him, spoon raised.
“Tell !” she barked. “Was there another operation yesterday?”
Skoll was caught off guard and froze, unsure of what was happening.
“Molly, ” Mr. Weasley began.
“You shut your mouth!” she snapped, not giving anyone a chance to speak. “Don’t give that secrecy nonsense! Do you even rember tomorrow’s your son’s wedding!? I let it slide last ti when you nearly lost an arm in that operation with the Order, ”
Mrs. Weasley’s voice cracked as she cried out, “Why are you the head of the Order but never join the missions yourself!?”
“Dumbledore explained, ” Mr. Weasley tried.
“Dumbledore!?” she shrieked, her voice trembling but still louder than his. “He didn’t even go to Dumbledore’s funeral! That sa night, Bill was ordered into action and almost turned into a werewolf! And where was he? Recruiting field agents in bloody Egypt!?”
The spoon in Mrs. Weasley’s hand hovered barely two inches from Skoll’s nose.
“Mum, ” Bill called.
Mrs. Weasley shouted over him, “Our whole family is practically in the Order! Except the two youngest! And Harry and his friends, Dumbledore never used people like that—”
Skoll paled.
“—so why send them on a mission!?”
“Mrs. Weasley!!”
“Mum!!”
Hermione, Harry, and Ron all shouted at once. Hermione looked furious, even gripping her wand.
At the sa ti, soone else raised their voice.
“Molly, that’s enough!” Mr. Weasley yelled. It was rare for him to shout at his wife. “I volunteered for the mission. Skoll hasn’t slept in over a day because of this. He didn’t tell the Order because it was a direct Ministry operation. Aurors were short-staffed, so they brought in outside help. We saved over a thousand Muggles this ti.”
Whether she heard or not, Mrs. Weasley’s face crumpled the mont her husband shouted. Tears stread down her face as Fleur and Ginny rushed over to comfort her.
The room fell silent. Fred and George were still clutching their bowls, it had all happened so fast.
“For everything you just said,” Skoll spoke at last, his deep voice tinged with bitterness, “Mrs. Weasley, I’m truly sorry.”
Mr. Weasley looked apologetically at Skoll, wringing his hands, unsure what to say. He wanted to comfort his wife, but also felt guilty for not stopping things sooner.
“I need a word with Harry, Ron, and Hermione,” Skoll said. “Could I borrow a room upstairs?”
“Oh, of course,” Mr. Weasley said quickly, leading him toward the stairs. At the foot of the steps, he added, “Sorry. It’s my fault. And please don’t hold it against Molly. She’s just, ”
“I understand,” Skoll replied. “Let Ron and the others take up. Your wife needs you more right now.”
Looking conflicted, Mr. Weasley hesitated, but Ron quickly said, “Dad, I’ll take him.”
“Alright. Thank you,” Mr. Weasley said to Skoll.
Hermione stomped up the stairs with heavy steps, as if the stairs had personally offended her. Harry and Ron said nothing, heads low, rushing up in silence.
“She has no idea!” Hermione fud once they were inside the room, pacing as red spacks crackled at the tip of her wand. The room was small, just two beds, a chair, and a wooden table. Spotless, in preparation for the wedding.
Skoll entered and pulled out a Rubik’s Cube from his pocket. With a tap of his wand, the cube spun into the air, hovering. He sealed the door, removed his earpiece, ring, and glasses, then gently hugged Hermione from behind, holding her wrist to stop her wand from flailing.
“Hermione,” Anne said softly, “don’t be angry.”
“And just who am I angry with?” she huffed, spinning to face her.
Anne gave a bright smile. “, of course. I’m touched. But really, she didn’t know. And I get how she feels.”
Hermione snorted but put away her wand, then pulled Anne to sit beside her on the bed. She opened her ever-present handbag and began pulling out vacuum-packed cake, a carton of milk, two cans of luncheon at, and a can of vegetables.
Anne’s grin widened. “Didn’t expect to be the first one eating the ergency rations I packed for you.”
“Still joking?” Hermione muttered, but she unwrapped the cake and stuck a straw into the milk for her.
Anne took a massive bite of cake, barely chewed, and gulped the milk.
“Slow down,” Hermione said, slicing up the at.
Anne nodded, cheeks full.
“Sorry, Anne. Mum’s been a bit high-strung lately. Probably because we’re all about to leave,” Ron said. He and Harry had taken the chair and a corner trunk.
Anne waved it off and chomped another piece of at Hermione held out with a fork.
“You haven’t talked about the things Dumbledore left you, have you?” Anne said through a mouthful.
“Not yet. We were going to ask you, but you said you didn’t know…” Harry replied.
“Well, actually, I know a little,” Anne said after swallowing.
Ron nearly dropped the Deluminator in his hand. Harry stared. “But you said, ”
“He asked if Skoll or the Order knew. Not ,” Anne said, taking another bite.
“But, ” Ron still looked confused.
“I didn’t lie,” Anne swallowed, “And my Occluncy isn’t just for show.”
“Then tell us!” Harry said eagerly. “The Snitch, Ron’s Deluminator, Hermione’s book, what’s it all an? Why didn’t Dumbledore just give them to us through you?”
“I don’t know their exact significance,” Anne said, polishing off the cake and one can of at.
“But hear out. Dumbledore once said, ‘So things must be done in the open, under scrutiny. Others, in secrecy, so that the truly important things can be achieved.’ That’s what he told while drafting his will.”
Harry and Ron still looked lost.
Hermione, however, gasped.
Anne stole the piece of at from her fork and gave her an encouraging look.
“When Dumbledore’s will was found, it had to be reviewed by the Ministry. He knew that. These three items might hold secrets, but ones hard to detect. But they draw attention. And in doing so, they distract from sothing more important…”
“The Sword of Gryffindor?” Harry and Ron said in unison. They looked to Anne.
“Exactly,” Anne said. She opened her grey cloak and pulled a flat cloth backpack from behind.
From it, she took a long wooden box.
“Here.” She handed it to Harry and Ron.
Harry eagerly opened the box. Inside, nestled in cotton, lay the Sword of Gryffindor, its ruby-studded hilt gleaming in the sunlight.
“Brilliant. But what do we do with it?” Ron asked. “Sure, it’s valuable…”
“You still haven’t finished those books?” Hermione said in disbelief. “The ones on destroying Horcruxes?”
“I just finished one,” Harry said. “It says you need sothing with powerful destructive magic to make sure a Horcrux can’t repair itself. So… the sword can destroy them?”
“Not quite,” Hermione said, opening the vegetable can, it was sliced carrots.
“No,” Anne protested when Hermione offered her a spoonful, “I want another at can.”
“You can’t just eat at.”
“Fine… ah, ” Anne opened her mouth obediently.
Harry and Ron waited anxiously.
“Ahem, ” Hermione cleared her throat. “Horcruxes are deeply magical. The sword alone isn’t enough, except this one’s unique. It’s goblin-made, and such blades absorb substances that strengthen them. Rember when Harry used it to kill the Basilisk in second year?”
Anne was stuffed with carrots again.
“Basilisk venom is rare and extrely potent. It destroyed Riddle’s diary. The sword absorbed it, beca stronger, more destructive. That’s why it can destroy Horcruxes.”
Harry and Ron nodded in understanding.
“So now we have a Horcrux-destroyer?” Harry said, relieved.
“Don’t relax just yet~” Anne said with a mouthful of carrots. “You haven’t found a single real Horcrux yet.”
“We haven’t even started looking,” Ron pointed out.
“…It’s the carrots,” Anne muttered, glaring at Hermione. “They made dumb.”
Hermione sighed, both exasperated and touched.
“One more bite,” she coaxed like to a child. “Then we’ll open… sardines?”
Anne pouted, nodded, and after another bite, hugged Hermione around the waist and rested her head on her shoulder.
“Then back to sleep,” Hermione whispered, lifting a piece of sardine to her lips.
“Mmh…”
“Anne, do you know who Gregorovitch is?”
Harry gently put the sword back in the box and looked up.
“Gregorovitch?” Anne mumbled, “Oh, right. Wandmaker. German. One of the three great European wandmakers. People say Ollivander’s better though.”
“No wonder I knew the na!” Harry said. “Krum said his wand was made by him!”
“Viktor?” Hermione gasped. “What does he have to do with this?”
Anne growled with a mouthful.
“Nothing to do with him,” Harry said. “Just… I dread Voldemort was looking for Gregorovitch.”
Hermione frowned. “I still think Harry shouldn’t keep that link. What if Voldemort spies on his thoughts?”
“He can’t,” Anne said. “And Voldemort thinks Dumbledore was his true rival. Harry’s just a thorn to remove. Sure, his top thorn. But after you stirred up the Ministry, he cut the link himself. He probably thinks his powers are perfect and wouldn’t bother snooping.”
“Ah, ”
Anne opened wide for more sardines.
“If you’re really worried, I’ve got fast-acting sleeping draughts,” she mumbled. “Two bottles for you. One sip, and you’ll be out. Labels are on them.”
Harry nodded.
“What ti is it?” Anne asked.
Ron checked his watch. “1:46 p.m.”
Anne smacked her lips, satisfied. Hermione wiped her mouth gently. “Ti to sleep.”
“Okay,” Anne smiled, kissing Hermione on the cheek.
“Anne!” Hermione gasped, flustered.
Giggling, Anne handed two bottles to Harry, each labeled for dosage, 5ml for an hour’s sleep.
The cube drifted into Anne’s hand. She twisted it a few tis and pocketed it.
Outside, sunlight poured in. Skoll glanced through the window at the wedding setup in the yard, tents erected, chairs stacked, tables laid with cloth.
Just as he reached for the doorknob, Skoll turned and said, “Almost forgot, take care of the sword’s box.”
Harry froze, just about to place it into Hermione’s bag.
“You can only fit the sword into an extension charm if it’s in the box. If the box breaks, you’ll be carrying it around.”
Harry was much more careful as he slid it into the bag. They all nodded.
“See you tomorrow,” Skoll said, and left.
Downstairs, Mr. Weasley was hugging his wife in the living room. Her eyes were red as she approached Skoll.
“I’m sorry. I lost my head,” she said.
“I accept your apology,” Skoll replied. Then to Mr. Weasley, “But you really should have told her. It would’ve saved her the worry. Anyway, I’m off. See you tomorrow.”
Passing Bill and Fleur, he smiled sincerely. “Best wishes.”
In a narrow alley in central London, Skoll Apparated. He took off his cloak, stuffed it in his bag, yawned, and stepped onto the street.
“Duke’s Hotel,” he told the cabbie.
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The complete release can be accessed through /Crimson_Lore
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