𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇

Chapter 52

In the morning, Hermione was absent once more. Harry sat at the breakfast table, completely alone, feeling abandoned and deserted by his friends. That was stupid, he knew. Of course Hermione was concerned about Ron. How could Harry expect her to be with himself when Ron was still unconscious in hospital – all because of Harry. He shouldn’t feel resentful.

He picked at the food in front of him, thinking alternatively of what Hermione might do, where Draco might have gone, and what the mysterious note meant. What was he supposed to do about it? How should he respond. How ‘could’ he respond?

Sighing, he pushed his plate away, and was about to pick up his bag and go early to his first lesson, when another owl dropped something on his plate, into the remains of his mashed fried egg. Harry blinked at it for a moment until it registered, then picked it up, unfolded and read it.

‘I have your cloak, your book and someone you love. Choose.’

Harry stared at the note. Someone he loved? His mind raced. This had to be Hexam, and he had Draco. The book gave clear instructions on how to make a Horcrux.... and making one involved killing! Harry ran out of the hall, ignoring calls from his friends. That was what the note meant! He had to choose between giving over the Hallows, or that madman would kill Draco and make a Horcrux – and the cycle would begin all over again. Another Dark Lord. Another war.

Harry couldn’t bear the knowledge of it for a moment and found himself skidding to his knees in the middle of the corridor, his legs giving out from underneath him. He heard someone moaning Draco’s name, then realised it was himself as he knelt there on the cold stone.

“Get a grip, Harry,” he muttered aloud to himself. “You have to save him.”

He got to his feet, his mind racing. Where would Hexam be? Could he out-think him and get there before Hexam expected him? He obviously had to be on or near the school grounds, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to use the owls.

Then it came to him. Surely Hexam wouldn’t be that obvious? Harry thought he had more sense than that. He swore under his breath, wishing he had his cloak – but no, it was in the hands of a new would-be Dark Lord. Harry wondered if he had followers. Surely no man who wished to overtake the Wizarding world, as all these idiots seemed to want to do, would try it alone?

Harry made it to his dorm and sat on his bed, thinking hard.

Hexam obviously wanted the rest of the Hallows – the ring and the wand – in exchange for Draco. If Harry did not do as he was told, then Draco’s murder would make the first Horcrux – if more than one was intended. He scrubbed his hands through his hair, wishing Hermione was there. She would know what to do. What would she say? What would she advise?

Harry forced down a deep breath and tried to think logically.

Of course, she would be all for telling the Headmistress, but Harry didn’t want that. McGonagall probably wouldn’t believe him – she had not in the past, and Draco had obliviated her for it. That alone was another reason why Harry would not go to her – if it came out that Draco had done such a thing, he would be put in Azkaban without passing go or collecting two hundred galleons.

He could ask Neville, Luna and Seamus to help him, but shoved that idea away immediately. He would not ask his friends to fight or die for him ever again.

He could surrender the Hallows – assuming he could find the ring – and watch as another war broke out. That also was not an option.

This time he was not protected, he was not a Horcrux or the product of a prophecy; he was an almost nineteen year old boy with a nice line in disarming spells and lots of luck. How could that work for him?