Faith .|. H. J. POTTER ✔

Chapter one-hundred-thirty-five

As soon as Xenophilius descended down the staircase, the four teenagers shared an unsure look.

"Cowardly old wart," Ron said. "Luna's got ten times his guts,"

"He's probably worried about what'll happen to them if the Death Eaters find out we were here," Harry said.

"Well, I agree with Ron," Hermione said, making Ron beam happily. "Awful old hypocrite, telling everyone else to help you and trying to worm out of it himself. And for heaven's sake keep away from that horn,"

Faith quickly took a few steps away from it and walked over to the window. Somewhere further was her house, her home in which she grew up in with Cedric and her parents, but it was probably wrecked now. Her mother told her Death Eaters searched the house and left it in a mess when they saw her before they broke into the Ministry. Everything had changed over time, ever since she woke up on her fourteenth birthday, the last birthday she spent with all of them. 

Cedric was dead now, and her parents were missing. And Faith herself would probably be dead soon enough too.

She quickly turned away from the window, avoiding the concerned look Harry sent her and focused on whatever Ron had discovered in the odd room now.

"Look at this," He said, pointing at a stone bust of a witch with the most bizarre-looking headdress. 

"Fetching," Harry grinned. 

"Surprised he didn't wear it to the wedding," Ron nodded.

The front door opened and closed and just moments later, Xenophilius walked back up the spiral staircase, carrying a tray with weirdly-shaped cups and a large teapot. 

"Ah, you have spotted my pet invention," Xenophilius said as he handed the tray to Hermione and joined Harry and Ron next to the cupboard. "Modelled, fittingly enough, upon the head of the beautiful Rowena Ravenclaw. Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure!"

Faith still didn't understand the full meaning of it, knowing a man's greatest treasure had to consist of much more than just wit. Like food or shelter for example, but Faith decided not to argue it. She just wasn't fit to think like a Ravenclaw would.

"May I offer you all an infusion of Gurdyroots?" Xenophilius asked. "We make it ourselves," He walked to the place where Hermione put down the tray and poured the deep-red liquid into the cups. "Luna is down beyond Bottom Bridge, she is most excited that you are here. She ought not to be too long, she has caught nearly enough Plimpies to make soup for all of us. Do sit down and help yourselves to sugar,"

They all sat down on the big armchairs and took one of the filled cups.

"Now, how may I help you, Mr Potter?"

"Well," Harry cleared his throat, "it's about the symbol you were wearing around your neck at Bill and Fleur's wedding, Mr Lovegood. We wondered what it meant,"

"Are you referring to the sign of the Deathly Hallows?" Xenophilius asked with raised eyebrows, clearly surprised at the question.

The four teens shared a look, none of them had any idea what that meant.

"The Deathly Hallows?" Faith asked confused.

"That's right," Xenophilius nodded. "You haven't heard of them? I'm not surprised. Very, very few wizards believe. Witness that knuckle-headed young man at your brother's wedding," He pointed at Ron, "who attacked me for sporting the symbol of a well-known Dark wizard! Such ignorance. There is nothing Dark about the Hallows - at least, not in that crude sense. One simply uses the symbol to reveal oneself to other believers, in the hope that they might help one with the Quest,"