The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|138| New Plan

When Harry came out of the bathroom, I quickly passed him. The sad look on his face had passed and it was replaced by fierce determination. In his head of his, I could see a plan was being set and a small ounce of excitement filled my chest.

The prickling never stopped from the moment back in the Manor through my entire shower. Even after, it still bothered me. Rubbing at my scar, I could hear Harry, Bill, and Fleur talking about something, but their voices were muffled through the wall. Drying my hair, I slowly opened the bathroom door to hear them.

"Harry, what the hell's going on?" asked Bill. "You turn up here with a dead house-elf and a half-conscious goblin, Maisey couldn't stop crying, Hermione looks as though she's been tortured, and Ron's just refused to tell me anything —"

"We can't tell you what we're doing," said Harry flatly. "You're in the Order, Bill, you know Dumbledore left us a mission. We're not supposed to talk about it to anyone else."

Fleur made an impatient noise, but Bill did not look at her; he was staring at Harry. I slowly made my way out of the bathroom, leaving the damp towel hung over the towel rack. Finally Bill said, "All right. Who do you want to talk to first?"

Talk to someone? Harry hesitated in his answer, confusing me more than I already was.

"Griphook," Harry said. "I'll speak to Griphook first."

"Up here, then," said Bill, leading him up towards me in the hallway. "Maisey," Bill nodded.

I gave a weak smile and when Harry saw me, he looked down at Ron and Hermione then back at me.

"I need you three as well!" he called to us.

Ron and Hermione made their way up the stairs towards us.

"How are you?" Harry asked Hermione. "You were amazing — coming up with that story when she was hurting you like that —"

Hermione gave a weak smile as Ron gave her a one-armed squeeze.

"What are we doing now, Harry?" I asked.

"You'll see. Come on."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I followed Bill up the steep stairs onto a small landing, past the bathroom door. Three doors led off it.

"In here," said Bill, opening the door into his and Fleur's room.

It too had a view of the sea, now flecked with gold in the sunrise. Harry moved to the window, turned his back on the spectacular view, and waited, his arms folded. Hermione and I took the small sofa beside the dressing table; Ron sat on the arm next to Hermione.

Bill reappeared, carrying the little goblin, whom he set down carefully upon the bed. Griphook grunted thanks, and Bill left, closing the door upon us.

"I'm sorry to take you out of bed," said Harry. "How are your legs?"

"Painful," replied the goblin. "But mending."

He was still clutching the sword of Gryffindor and wore a strange look: Half truculent, half intrigued.

"You probably don't remember —" Harry began.

"— that I was the goblin who showed you to your vault, the first time you ever visited Gringotts?" said Griphook. "I remember, Harry Potter. Even amongst goblins, you are very famous." His eyes moved from Harry to me, "And you Maisey Potter. I know of you as well."

Harry looked over at me and I only gave a curt nod. Regardless of not knowing the plan, I trusted he knew well. My scar throbbed and I rubbed it some more, sighing in annoyance more than pain.