Out of Time

Chapter 47

Draco brings back dinner - a frozen lasagna from an Italian deli's ready-to-cook counter that's easily heated over a fire. It's the best thing Hermione's eaten in weeks, and between the three of them, they polish off what should easily have been an eight-helping meal. Hermione can't speak for Harry, but she and Draco worked up quite the appetite.

She holds off pestering Harry until they're all pleasantly full. She wishes they had a bottle of wine or something. It feels like a celebratory kind of night. After they'd destroyed the locket, they'd split a nicked bottle of firewhisky, but then again, she and Draco already celebrated. In a way. Not a way they'll tell Harry about, who probably hasn't gotten to properly celebrate the destruction of another Horcrux (in that specific manner, at least), but he doesn't seem fussed by it one way or another. Undoubtedly, an overstuffed belly is placating enough.

Hermione's mind traces these agreeable circles lazily, finally deciding her curiosity outweighs the rest.

"What was the big to-do with Rita Skeeter's book, Harry? What does it have to do with anything?"

Harry licked his lips, finishing up a final bite. "It's mostly rubbish, but -"

"Not all rubbish?" Hermione snorts, and he gives her an indulgent look.

"Maybe all. Maybe not. There's a big middle section in it about Dumbledore's... well, that big duel between him and Grindelwald in the 1940's. The rumour was that Grindelwald had somehow procured a wand of immense, almost unnatural, power. No one knows where he got it, but he'd openly bragged about having it. When Dumbledore won the duel, he won the wand. To anyone's knowledge, he never carried another after that point. In theory, it would have been the wand he had while we were all at school. This wand."

He twirls it lightly between his fingers, using the knobbly shaft to keep it from flying clear across the room and smacking into the taupe canvas wall.

"Do you think she was right? How could she know?"

"Most of the rumours weren't originated by her. She wasn't even alive at the time. But it's a fact that he won the duel."

"But who knows where Grindelwald got the wand in the first place?"

"We may never know that for sure. All we can do is work with the details Dumbledore left us with that specific symbol, marked all over that specific book."

Even Hermione can admit this is highly suggestive evidence. Dumbledore doubtless knew what he possessed, even if there was no proof to be found on paper.

From her little bag, Harry pulls out the invisibility cloak and spreads it out across the table. The wand rests right on top and all three of them stare at it, contemplating the possibilities.

"Master of Death," Harry muses softly, his gaze somewhere far away. The bruised bags under his eyes could hold every shadow within Godric's Hollow.

"If we could prove the stone even exists."

"Hard to prove something we can't find, and I'm not looking to add another item to our list. We still have to find Hufflepuff's cup. It's interesting, though. Why would Dumbledore even bother?"

"He must have thought it could help, somehow." Hermione brushes the cloak through her fingers, feeling the sleek satiny fabric against her calloused hands. It's not tattered like the little bag from whence it came. This cloak is pristine. It looks brand new. Not a single frayed hem exists along its decorative border.

"Might keep me alive, I s'pose," Harry shrugs, sounding dubious.

Draco runs his hands over the cloak, too. "Only if we find that stone. But even without it, this cloak is amazing. I've always thought so. I've never seen another like it. And what do you really think about that wand?"