Harry Potter and the Soul Shatterer

Chap. 4: The Quest Resumes

Back in Privet Drive, Harry spent the following days mostly locked up in his room, deprived of all the privileges he previously enjoyed, except for that of eating (leftovers, of course), sleeping, and using the bathroom. True to his word, Uncle Vernon had firmly decided to make his nephew pay dearly for his humiliating failure to strike a fruitful business deal with Mr. Humphrey.

But, as Vernon, to his absolute dismay-, quickly found out, being locked up for entire days did not seem to bother Harry at all. On the contrary, this allowed him to feverishly study scores of old spell books he brought from Hogwarts, taking notes and muttering incantations. One day, Aunt Petunia, unable to restraint her legendary curiosity, risked a peek inside Harry's room, and found him sitting upright on his bed, legs crossed and eyes closed, apparently meditating.

After a few days, Harry was thus allowed to leave his room again, partly because this seclusion was obviously not enough to make his life miserable, and also because Aunt Petunia would not miss such an opportunity to benefit from her nephew's 'help' again. So, upon his release, Harry found himself back in charge of all possible domestic chores, cleaning, cooking, gardening and painting, from dusk till dawn.

But then again, Harry quickly managed to make the best of this new -and tighter- schedule. Working fast to get rid of his chores, he found the way to secure a few hours each day either for studying, before bedtime, or for jogging and exercising in a nearby park, early in the morning. Such a Spartan way of life did not seem bother the Dursleys, except Dudley, who found himself under pressure to emulate his cousin and "work out a bit" too, if only to keep his growing weight under control.

What seemed more peculiar were the frequent visits Harry paid to Ms Figg when he was done with his daily work. Interrogated about what he did during these visits, Harry answered evasively that he was helping the old lady to do her own chores. Far from being satisfied with this answer, Petunia sent Dudley to spy on his cousin (in exchange for a new Game Boy). What Dudley saw through the window of Ms Figg's living room left him puzzled. Harry was sitting at a large table, writing with his quill on what seemed to be an old parchment, while Ms Figg was serving tea. As he hurried back home to deliver his report, Dudley failed to notice the little grey owl that fluttered out of Ms Figg's house, firmly clutching Harry's parchment in its claws.

***

And so the days went by, until the morning Harry had been impatiently waiting for finally arrived. At exactly midnight on that day, he would at last turn seventeen, the legal age in the Wizard World. Even though coming of age meant that he would from then on no longer be protected by Dumbledore's charm, it also meant that he would be at last allowed to perform magic outside school without breaking the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Under-Age Sorcery. And by now, Harry could simply no longer wait to do magic -loads of it.

On that morning, Harry was alone at home with Dudley, his aunt and uncle having left early for an important meeting with their banker. After days of excruciating deliberations, and desperately in need of cash to convince his reluctant partner that he meant business, Vernon had finally bowed to the inevitable and decided to mortgage his own house to get a fat loan from his bank.

Left for once to his own devices, Harry was busy studying in his room, when he heard the doorbell ringing. Expecting his Aunt to bang in his room with a fresh list of domestic chores any minute, he hurried on to finish the spell book he was reading.

"Can't you open the door?" yelled Dudley from the living room, where he was watching television.

Harry clapped his tongue in exasperation. This was his last day at Privet Drive, and he would not allow himself be bossed around by his cousin anymore. "Well, you got feet, haven't you? You're already downstairs, so you do it!" he yelled back.

Reluctantly, Dudley turned off the TV set, slowly rose from his La-Z-Boy and, still in his Power Rangers pajamas, dragged his feet to the front door, grumbling, "Coming, coming!"

He opened the door and stood there, stupefied.

Instead of his parents, as he expected, two teenagers were standing on the doorstep. Dudley vaguely recognized one of them, a tall, red-haired boy with freckles, but his attention was almost immediately (and irresistibly) drawn by the boy's companion, a pretty girl with brown eyes and a thick mane of bushy hair.

"Good morning! I'm Hermione Granger and this is Ron Weasley," she said, pointing at her red-haired boy. "We're Harry's friends. You must be Cousin Dudley, aren't you?"

"We already met," said Ron, grinning. "So, did you get your fireplace fixed? My dad's not much of a handyman, I'm afraid."

Still fixedly staring at Hermione, Dudley tried to answer, but only managed to produce a strangely inarticulate sound.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione asked politely.

Once again, Dudley tried to answer, but the result was not much better.

Ron leaned towards his companion, whispering, "Y'know, Hermione, I think he might be suffering from one of those funny Muggle illnesses, 'lozengytis' or something like that..."

He drew a wand from the pocket of his cut-off jeans. "Hey, don't worry, chum, I'll get that throat fixed right away!" he said, pointing his wand at Dudley who recoiled, terror-stricken.

"It's called laryngitis, Ron," said Hermione, gently pushing Ron's wand away from its target. "And no, he's not sick, he's just being shy, am I right?" she asked, smiling at Dudley.

As Dudley opened his mouth with the firm intention to say something meaningful this time, he was interrupted by a familiar voice shouting from the stairs.

"Hermione? Ron? You, here?"

The visitors looked past Dudley and saw Harry staring at them from the staircase, apparently unable to believe his eyes.

"Oi, Harry! Great to see you, mate!" Ron yelled.

"Don't tell me you forgot we were coming!" Hermione exclaimed, in a falsely indignant tone.

Without answering, Harry flew down the stairs and threw himself into the arms of his longtime friends. Dudley stood in the corridor, dumbfounded. "I see you already met," Harry told him, distractedly. "Hermione, this is my cousin Dudley. Dudley, this is Hermione, the cleverest witch to ever walk this earth."

"N- nice to meet you," Dudley croaked, still incapable of ungluing his eyes from Hermione.

"Where are your aunt and uncle?" asked Ron, looking around.

"Won't be back for a while," said Harry. "C'mon, let's go to my room."

They went up. "Seems like you're having a strange effect on him, Hermione," Ron quietly said, pointing his thumb at Dudley, who was still staring at them from downstairs.

"Well, that's no surprise to me," mumbled Harry, casting a furtive (and slightly disapproving) look at Hermione's light summer blouse.

"What, he's never seen a witch before?" asked Hermione.

"Not that close," replied Harry with a mocking grin. "Come in."

As they entered the room, Hermione gazed at the clothes and books scattered all around, and shook her bushy head, in disbelief. "Exactly as I thought -a typical boy's room!" she said reproachfully. "Simply revolting."

"I didn't really -hem- expect visitors today," Harry said hurriedly, while trying to hide a pair of boxer shorts under his bed.

"Lucky that I can at least tidy up Ron's room when I'm at the Burrow," Hermione snapped, picking up a pair of socks lying on the bed. "Oh, hello, Hedwig!" she said, noticing Harry's owl. Hedwig hooted with glee, recognizing her.

"This cage is filthier than that entire room!" Hermione told Harry. "Don't you let her out from time to time?"

Harry stopped collecting his clothes. "Not really. I rather try to avoid using her if I've got mail to send." He opened Hedwig's cage, and the owl happily jumped on his arm.

Hermione fished her wand out of her handbag, pointed it at the cage and said, "Scourgify!" The feathers and droppings disappeared with a flash. "There, spotless. How do you send your letters, then?" she asked. "By Muggle mail?"

Harry sat on his bed, and Hedwig jumped from his arm to a nearby chair. "No, I use old Ms Figg's owl instead," he said. "That's the only safe way." Noticing his friends' puzzled expression, he quickly added, "My neighbor. She's a Squib -and Dumbledore's friend."

"Oh, yeah, you told us about her," said Ron brightly. "She was the one who helped you get off the hook at the Ministry's hearing!"

Hermione sat on the bed, next to Harry. "Who have you been writing to? And what about?" she enquired.

"To all the stores specialized in ancient magical artifacts I could get my hands on, in England and even abroad." Harry answered, pointing at a pile of parchments on his table. "Ever since I came back here I've been spending days tracking down anything that might have belonged either to Gryffindor or to Ravenclaw."

"You're mental!" blurted Ron. "Anybody could have read your- I mean, her mail! What if the other side finds out she's your neighbor?"

Harry looked at his friend with a slightly condescending smile. "Surely you don't believe I would write about something that important without taking any precautions, do you?"

He stood up, walked to his desk, and rummaged through the scattered papers. He finally produced an empty white letter-size parchment. "Here, look at this."

"What's that?" both his friends asked together.

"An encrypter. Can't be read unless received by the addressee first. Arabella's got loads of them." He took up his quill, wrote a few words and handed the parchment to Ron. "Now, read it," he asked him.

Ron took it. "But there's nothing on it!" he exclaimed. Harry took the parchment from him, and handed it over to Hermione. The moment her fingers touched the paper, a few words appeared on it:

"To: Miss Hermione Granger,

Second bedroom on the left, number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

And how did you two spend your summer?

Harry."

"Wicked," murmured Ron.

"And have you found anything?" Hermione asked Harry.

"Not really, except for this." He extracted a folded paper from the pocket of his jeans and gave it to Hermione.

She unfolded the parchment and began to read it aloud. "Dear Ms Figg... in response to your request, we would like to inform you that we have at one point been in possession of an artifact having belonged to Godric Gryffindor. Unfortunately, the item in question was sold two years ago to a gentleman who wished to remain anonymous. The delivery was made to his associate, Mr. M. Fletcher, esq. If you are interested in our collections, please do ask for our catalogue, we presently have a special offer for fifteenth century Goblin tapestries, etc, Grubb, Helfling, and Associates, Foggy Pass, Manchester."

She stopped reading and looked up. "Fletcher? Could it be our Mudungus Fletcher?" she said excitedly.

"Could be," replied Harry, in a gloomy voice. "But it doesn't help us much, does it? Not as long as Dung's in Azkaban..."

The trio remained silent for a long moment. Finally, Hermione broke the silence. "Harry, are you sure you can trust Ms Figg?"

Harry gave her a surprised look. "Well, considering she's been keeping an eye on me ever since I was brought here, she would have had plenty of time to do me in, had she been working for Voldem- I mean, You-know-Who, don't you think?" he replied.

"Oh, you can call him by his name now" said Ron, glumly. "I reckon it'll take more than that to scare us, especially after what we've been through-"

"That's not what I meant, Harry," Hermione cut in. "What if she works for the Ministry? If what Ron's dad told us still holds, we must carefully thread with the Ministry these days. Nobody there must know what we are looking for."

"So, you heard about that double agent, too?" asked Harry matter-of-factly.

Both Ron and Hermione stared at him, stunned. "And how do you know that?" replied Ron, his eyes wide open.

"Tonks told me. We've met at the Headquarters a few weeks ago."

In a few words, Harry told his friends about his visit at number twelve, Grimmauld Place and also about the vision he had the night before. When he had finished, Hermione added gloomily, "That only confirms what we feared. Yet-" She paused. "Something doesn't add."

"What?" asked Harry and Ron simultaneously.

"If Snape is indeed top Death Eater now, what kept him from sending his friends raiding the Order's Headquarters? After all, he knows how to get there, doesn't he?"

"Maybe he's just bidding his time," said Ron in a low voice.

"Or he may have other priorities for now," suggested Hermione. "Doesn't it seem strange to you that no attacks on wizard families have been reported since Dumbledore was murdered?"

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. "Yeah, I reckon that's weird," Harry admitted. "This would be the perfect moment for the other side to strike, now that we're so vulnerable."

Ron intervened. "And have you also noticed that the weather started to get freaky precisely after Dumbledore's death?"

"That might be just a coincidence," said Harry, unconvinced.

"No, Ron's right, there's something really strange going on," replied Hermione. "Tropical storms in England, floods in Europe, tidal waves, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions elsewhere, they just keep piling up recently. Muggle papers are full of such horror stories these days."

"Dad says the Weather Department is overwhelmed at the Ministry," added Ron. "There's talk of unregistered curses being used on a massive scale all around."

"But why should Voldemort -or Snape- care about the weather?" asked Harry. "What does he have to gain by wreaking havoc like this?"

Hermione shook her head. "Even if we knew, I'm afraid there's not much we can do about it, except using that lull in the battle to speed up our little investigation."

"While we're at it, have you two been able to come up with something?" asked Harry, eagerly.

Hermione pointed at Harry's encrypter. "Well, to answer your question," she said with a wry smile, "we've had a pretty busy summer, too."

"Reading," sighed Ron, rolling his eyes.

"More exactly, reading about Hogwarts' founders, to find clues about objects Voldemort could have used as Horcruxes," Hermione added, ignoring Ron's remark.

"And what have you found?" asked Harry, his eyes shining.

Hermione paused then said, "I think we got a potential clue. About Ravenclaw."

Harry almost jumped with excitement. "What is it? Where did you get it?"

"In a decrepit bookstore in Cockturn Alley, of all places," Ron answered. "We had to spend days dusting off piles of old parchments before we could get our hands on it."

"Well, it was worth the trouble, wasn't it?' asked Hermione gaily.

"Speak for yourself," replied Ron in a gruff voice. "That wretched place was swarming with spiders." He winced at that thought.

"Anyways," Hermione kept on, "we found that Ravenclaw was much closer to Slytherin than the other two founders. Like him, she thought that the quality that really mattered in wizards was talent, rather than loyalty of fairness. Not that she was fond of the Dark Arts, as Slytherin was, but she had no scruples teaching subjects that Gryffindor or Hufflepuff would have discarded for moral considerations."

"There is no such thing as good and evil, only power and those too weak to seek it..." muttered Harry.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "What did you say?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing, just one of Voldemort's favorite quotes. I learned it from Quirrell," said Harry absent-mindedly. "But all this doesn't tell us about anything that could have been used as a horcrux."

"I'm getting there. So because of her affinities with Slytherin, Ravenclaw kept in touch with him even after he left Hogwarts."

"Where did he go?"

Hermione patted her handbag. "According to the parchment we found, he joined a very elitist school devoted to the Dark Arts, the Collegium Maleficarum, which location is unfortunately unknown. The bottom line is that Ravenclaw spent some time there too, and that's where she and Slytherin designed together many of the most famous spells still taught at Hogwarts today."

"But in the end, she came back to Hogwarts, didn't she?" asked Harry.

"Yes she did, partly because of her longtime friendship with Hufflepuff and also because she didn't share Slytherin's obsession with Muggle-borns."

Ron tapped Hermione's shoulder. "Tell him about the mirror!" he whispered to her ear.

Harry frowned. "What mirror?"

"When Ravenclaw decided to leave for Hogwarts," Hermione explained, "Slytherin gave her a farewell present: a small enchanted mirror she could use to communicate with him."

"Or with demons," Ron broke in, shivering.

"Well, that is only part of the legend," replied Hermione dismissively. "What really matters is that after she came back, Ravenclaw would not be seen anywhere without Slytherin's mirror. She'd always keep it, like a talisman."

"So, there's a chance that this mirror would be-" Harry began, hopefully.

"It's a possibility," said Hermione, looking thoughtful. "If so, then our task is to find out where it is now. My guess is that the best way to trace it back is to look for clues in the very place Ravenclaw spent the rest of her life -in Hogwarts."

Ron stood up. "And you should come back too to help us find it. Unless you haven't changed your mind about-" He broke off.

"You two go back. I'm not," replied Harry, avoiding Ron's gaze.

"So you're still decided on going solo?" Ron insisted. "Why?'

"There's plenty of work for me to do outside Hogwarts," said Harry. "Time is running out, and I just can't afford to be tied down by petty school regulations, especially if McGonagall's in charge."

"But aren't you tied up here as well? I thought this place was little more than prison for you!" Hermione insinuated.

"Yeah, weren't you supposed to come back here only for a short visit? That's what you told us at the funeral, remember?" added Ron.

"I had things to do here as well," Harry mumbled, feeling increasingly cornered.

"Like what?" Hermione insisted. "You said you wanted to go to Godric's Hollow. Have you changed your plans?"

"No, I haven't... I'm just preparing for it, "replied Harry. As his friends gave him a perplex look, he continued, "While I was tracking down horcruxes, I was also trying to weed out information from the Dursleys about my parents. I mean, they should know something about them, shouldn't they? I can't just go to Godric's Hollow without having a clue about where to start from!"

"But why on Earth would they tell you what they know only now?" Hermione inquired. "Unless you found a way to make them talk, of course."

"I think I do. In a way," Harry replied, in a sphinx-like manner.

He stood up and walked up to a bookshelf from where he picked up an old book covered with dark leather. He handed it to his friends who opened it.

"A Treatise in Occlumencye and Legilimencye, by Dr. Jeroboam Witherteaspoon, London, 1772," Hermione stopped reading. "Harry! Where did you get this?" she asked, intrigued.

Harry had a sardonic grin. "From Snape's office. I went there the night Dumbledore died, using my invisibility cloak. Getting there was a piece of cake, with all the mayhem around, nobody thought of putting a lock charm on the door."

Hermione gave Harry a horrified look. "You mean you -actually- stole it?" she finally managed to utter.

"I don't have any scruples stealing from a murderer!" Harry snapped back.

Hermione was not entirely convinced. "Still-"she began.

Ron interrupted her. "Leave it alone, Hermione. We need all the help we can get, even if it has to come from old Snivellus himself."

Hermione handed the book back to Harry. "But did it help? Can you actually read minds now?"

"I can't read thoughts yet," Harry recognized reluctantly. "I can feel emotions, and I can sometimes see images too, though not as clearly as I can when I see through Voldemort's eyes. But it's getting there."

"What have you found out so far?" Hermione asked wide-eyed, her indignation now forgotten.

"Oh, I can tell when somebody is lying, for one. With Dudley, it's easy: he doesn't know how to block his mind, he's such a bad liar. I can see what he's been doing with his friends instead of doing his summer school homework. But my Aunt's a tougher nut to crack, and she's the one who knows most about my mum and dad..."

"Maybe you simply need more practice," suggested Ron.

Harry had a sad laugh. "I'm afraid I'm running out of time for that. I'm turning seventeen tonight, so I'll have to leave empty-handed."

"And where will you live?" asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "At Grimmauld Place, I guess. It's- my house, after all. I'll go there tonight just to leave my things, and tomorrow I'll leave for Godric's Hollow. Who knows, maybe I'll be luckier in finding something about my parents there..."

"Not so fast, mate. There's another place you need to go to first,"

Ron interrupted.

"Which one?" asked Harry, taken aback.

"But- the Burrow, of course!" replied Ron, puzzled. "For Bill's wedding!"

"The wed-" Harry broke off, looking utterly stunned.

"Did you forget about that, too?" added Hermione, even more intrigued by Harry's reaction. "That's why we came here in the first place -to take you there!"

Harry stood there, unable to find his words. While he did not entirely forget about the wedding, he had to put it in the back of his mind, as the search for horcruxes had taken all his attention. But he also had another good reason for not wanting to think about the wedding: if he were to go the Burrow, he would sooner or later have to meet with-

"Harry?" Hermione's voice suddenly interrupted Harry's thoughts. "You are coming... Aren't you?" she asked in an uncertain voice.

"Oh, er- I mean, yes, of course, I'm coming, don't worry," stammered Harry, still looking lost. He turned towards his friends, who were now silently staring at him. "And, hem- how's everybody doing?" he said, trying to sound casual. "Is Bill all right now?" he asked.

Ron hesitated for a moment. "Yeah, he's doing fine. He was discharged from St. Mungo's about a month ago," he finally said. "He's now busy refurbishing his London flat. About bloody time, if you want my opinion: the whole place used to look a lot like this room."

They all laughed, but still Harry could not help feeling uneasy.

Ron kept on. "Charlie's back from Romania, but without bringing a dragon with him this time, thank goodness. And Fleur's parents arrived two weeks ago. Cool chaps. Mum's doing her best to learn French cooking, but she still has a long way to go," he added with a smirk.

An awkward silence fell in the room. Finally, Harry felt that there was no point trying to avoid the subject he knew was on everyone's mind.

"And... how's Ginny doing?" he risked.

Hermione and Ron exchanged an uncertain look, as if they expected each other to answer first. At last, Ron decided to take the initiative.

"Oh, er -well, fine, thank you," he said in an exaggeratedly light tone. "She's been helping Fleur decorating the flat. Keeping herself busy, I guess..." He broke off, and suddenly grew more animated, as if he had found an easy way to change the subject. "You should see the flat, Harry! It has a magic stargazing roof, a real marvel. Bill built it with a friend of his, Romuald Triggs. A real jack of all trades, Rommy is. Y'know, Dad hired him to fix-"

Hermione nudged Ron with her elbow, interrupting him.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he asked, indignantly.

"I think Harry wants to know how Ginny is doing, mood-wise," Hermione replied calmly.

Ron's face turned crimson. "Oh, you mean, about Harry and her-?" He gulped. "It's, huh, hard to tell, you know Ginny, she never complains -so proud. But, overall, I'd say that she's taking it, hem, rather well."

Hermione stood up and planted her fists on her hips. "Rather well?" she exclaimed, giving Ron an indignant look. "Frankly, if I didn't know you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, I'd say that you should start wearing glasses and ask Harry for his optician's address without delay!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Ron, meekly.

"What I mean," replied Hermione, " is that you obviously fail to see that your sister is miserable, that she spends most of her time locked up in her room, and that, when she does ever come out, her eyes are as red and swollen as that of a sick owl!"

She shot a hard look at Harry, who wished he knew a spell that could help him disappear through the floor.

Hermione turned her anger back at Ron. "If this is what you call 'taking it well,' then I'm afraid to think what it would be if she wasn't taking it well!"

"Listen, I'm sure Harry had good reasons to do what he did," said Ron, trying to calm her.

Hermione's anger flared up. "Boys!" she spat. "Always backing up each other! Even when you know that you're plain wrong!"

"I'm not wrong," Harry finally uttered, still looking at the floor. "And Ron is right. I did have a good reason to break up with Ginny, and she knows it."

Hermione's anger finally subsided. "Harry," she said, trying hard to remain calm, "I know that all you wanted was to keep Ginny out of danger, but let me ask you a very simple question: how can you be so sure that she'll be safer that way?"

Harry looked up at her, surprised. "Isn't that obvious? Snape knew about us going out together, and you can be sure that the first thing he did after going back to his boss was to spill the beans!"

He paused and then said, in a low voice, "I just can't let Voldemort harm her, and I know he will. He already tried once and almost succeeded. You don't know what it was like to see her almost lifeless, like she was in the Chamber of Secrets."

Hermione sat back on the bed and put an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Well, what's done is done, isn't it? All right, maybe Voldemort knows about you and Ginny being together, but he surely doesn't know that you broke up with her," she said gravely. "So, dumping her like an old cauldron won't change the fact that she's already in danger, whether you want it or not."

Harry was still not mollified. "Still, there's a far better chance that he will not harm her if I stay away. I'd rather be the sole target than putting her at risk as well."

Hermione shook her head. "It might not make such a big difference, you know. She's already looked after, either at home, at Bill's flat, or at Hogwart, Ron's dad saw to it." She paused. "In the meantime, all you do is making both of you suffer for no reason."

"She'll get over it. She'll find someone else," mumbled Harry stubbornly.

"What about you?"

"I'll take that chance," Harry said, his teeth clenched. "There's too much at stake, and too many people ended up dead because of me. It's like- I bring bad luck to those close to me." He was still trying to sound resolute while saying that, but, even though his tone was firm, it was somehow lacking conviction, and Hermione noticed it.

"Harry," she said gently, "you don't bring bad luck. You're just facing a ruthless enemy who wants to use your weaknesses to get you. But Ginny is definitely not one of them, believe me."

Ron intervened again. "Besides, you're wrong when you say that you bring bad luck to those close to you, mate. Dead wrong if I may say," he added with a wily smile.

"What d'you mean?" asked Harry.

"Well, Hermione and I are still alive, aren't we?" Ron said. "And I'll tell you more: if both of us are still alive, it's all thanks to you. You save Hermione from the troll, and you saved me from being poisoned, remember? And in both cases, you weren't the target."

Harry kept silent for a very long moment, his eyes downcast. Finally he said, hesitantly, "So, what should I do now?"

Hermione had a beaming smile. "You will come with us to the Burrow for the wedding. And there, you will tell Ginny the truth: that you never stopped thinking of her, that you'll never do, and that if you must stay away from her, it's only so you two can get together again -as soon as possible. "

"If she's willing to wait for me, that is," said Harry darkly.

"She will. Take my word for it," replied Hermione.

She stood up. "So, we all agree. Now, maybe we should think about packing- I mean, you should," she said, still looking at Harry's scattered clothes.

"I'll help you, Harry," offered Ron.

"Fine", said Hermione with a yawn. "I could kill for an expresso with pumpkin juice right now. Is there something that looks or tastes like coffee in this house?" she asked Harry.

Harry thought for a moment. "I think there is some coffee in the kitchen pantry. But the Dursleys usually drink tea," he replied.

Hermione winced. "No, thank you. Well, I'll be back in a few minutes with a decent eye-opener. I think we'll all need it."

And, leaving the boys to their packing, she left the room.

(To be continued)