Harry Potter and the Simulacrum Seal

Chapter Seventeen: Flame Acestes

Ron must have been getting used to Harry waking him up in the middle of the night. Instead of his usual bleary-eyed mumbling, he sat up alertly as soon as Harry shook him.

'What is it?' he asked, eyes forced wide open.

'I have a way to find clues.' Harry's finger was stuck between the pages to mark the important section. 'The mindscape Voldemort left in your dad is still there, and according to this book -' he flopped it open '- he probably left evidence of his thoughts without meaning to.'

Ron stared blankly for a moment before he understood. 'Oh.'

He didn't sound keen. Harry figured Ron was still sleep-addled. 'We should wake Hermione and work out the particulars. Hey, you awake yet? Do you need more sleep? This can keep until morning.'

Ron ignored the questions. 'You're going back inside Dad's head.'

Harry didn't register what Ron was bothered about at first. His success-clogged brain took all of two seconds to realize that he was worried about his dad. 'Ron, it won't hurt him. I wouldn't do it if it would hurt him.'

'He's not even in there anymore!' Ron punched the bed. 'I know you wouldn't do a thing to hurt him, but damn it, hasn't Dad been through enough?'

Harry was quiet. 'Yes,' he said. 'I'm sorry I brought it up. We can find another way.'

'Don't be stupid. We'll do it. Just tell me there's no other way, right?'

'I don't know of any.'

'Don't worry about it. Let's get Hermione - no, wait, what about Mum?'

Harry didn't know what Ron meant. His brow furrowed. 'What about her?'

'We should tell her about what we're doing. It's Dad.' Ron stood up and waited.

Harry's heart sank at the thought of telling Mrs Weasley. 'Now? Isn't she asleep?'

'No; she hasn't been sleeping much since Ginny left.'

'I don't think we can tell her,' Harry protested. Ron's insistence was making him very uncomfortable. 'She shouldn't know about the Horcruxes.' It wasn't her fight; she had enough on her mind. Harry was still uncomfortable with Remus knowing.

'She doesn't need to know about the Horcruxes,' Ron argued. 'Everyone's expecting you to fight Voldemort, Mum included, even if she doesn't like it. You wanting to learn more about his weaknesses will be enough.'

Harry decided that the argument was sound. He had nothing more to throw at Ron except that Harry didn't want to do it, which wouldn't be good enough. 'Okay,' he agreed reluctantly, slumping in resignation.

Ron led Harry to the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was sitting alone, sipping a cup of tea, and listening to music on the Wizarding Wireless Network. She looked up at them in surprise.

'Boys, what are you doing out of bed?' she asked, setting down her tea and getting up. 'Can I get you anything? A midnight snack?' Mrs Weasley particularly set her sights on Harry, whom she'd scolded at dinner for not eating enough in the past few days.

'Thanks, but no.'

'Mum,' Ron started, 'Harry and I are going to see Dad tomorrow.'

Mrs Weasley paused, her smile drooping. Her hand fell onto her chest, covering her pounding heart. 'Boys, you don't have to do that.'

Harry's stomach in discomfited knots, he replied, 'We do. Voldemort -' Mrs Weasley shuddered '- left that mindscape inside him, and we think there's some information we can use against him in there.'

She levelled them both a serious look. 'Will this hurt Arthur?'

'No,' Harry replied immediately, shaking his head for emphasis.

Mrs Weasley slowly nodded. 'But I insist on being in the room, just in case. The Healer has to be there too.'

'Sure, Mum. We'll go tell Hermione, and we'll all leave together tomorrow morning.'

***

Mr Weasley was exactly where he'd been before: in the Janus Thickey ward. Gilderoy Lockhart looked blankly at Harry for only a moment, as if they'd never met, before he went back to signing autographs.

'I'm going in with you,' Hermione stated.

'No,' said Harry sternly. They'd had this argument several times since she'd been told.

'I'm going in with you,' she said again[,] more insistently.

'I second Hermione,' Ron said.

He already knew that, too. Ron and Hermione were about ready to mutiny. 'There's no point for two of us to go. I'll find what we need - and you two will get me out if anything strange happens.'

The last point was said quietly so that Mrs Weasley couldn't hear. Harry knew it was possible for something to go very wrong; at worst, his consciousness could be trapped in the mindscape, severed from his body. It was like being Splinched during Apparition, except it was much trickier to fix.

'Misery loves company,' Hermione answered. 'If we get stuck, I'll be more helpful if I'm with you.' She grabbed Harry's shoulder and forced him to look her in the eye. He could see that she wasn't going to be swayed this time, so he sighed, which she took happily to mean "yes".

Harry stood by Mr Weasley's bed. The change in him was awful. He was much thinner, his face was chalk-white, and his cheeks were hollow. His breathing was slow and labored.

He looked eerily like a corpse.

'Are you sure you want to do this, Mrs Weasley?' asked the Healer from behind them.

She stared at her husband. 'I'm allowing it.'

Without further words exchanged between them, Harry and Hermione both turned to Mr Weasley, and each set their wands against one of his temples.

***

Harry pictured stepping into a dark room with a door at the end of it. The doorknob turned slowly, like it was stuck in thick clay, and he was having trouble moving it until another hand fell upon his.

Then the door glided open easily.

Harry's eyes opened, and he was in the green-lit room he remembered.

Hermione took several steps into the room.

'Yes,' Harry replied to her unasked question. 'This is it.'

The room was jammed with things - little tables topped with trinkets and dark cabinets left ajar. He had no idea where to start looking.

His eyes skipped over most of what was in the room and rested a few moments on a symbol carved into the stone wall - a circle with three petal-shaped loops inside. From a corner of the room untouched by torchlight, a flurry of movement grabbed his attention, and Harry stared curiously at the source.

It was the snow globe. He remembered it. The flurry of snow was still too thick for him to see what was inside. A feeling greater than curiosity flamed; when he looked at it, he felt that he needed to see what was inside.

Harry took a step closer to the snow globe, and the snow moved violently in response. When he took another step, the snow turned to ice and started to ping off the inside of the glass.

Hermione spun toward him. 'Harry?'

He raised his foot to take another step, but he felt a visceral pull in his stomach warning him of danger. Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to turn away. The ice returned to snow, and the snow calmed, but it still wasn't enough for him to see what it was hiding.

'How's it going?' he asked.

Hermione frowned and ran her hand over the side of a seven-tiered chess board. 'Seven shelves. And these pieces...'

Harry walked over and examined the board for himself. On each tier of the transparent board was a single dark green chess piece.

On the first tier there was a pawn in the back corner; on the second tier there was another pawn, but it was at the very front of the board. The third tier held a knight knocked over onto its side in the middle of the board; a bishop was in the same position on the fourth tier, as was a rook on the fifth tier.

The sixth tier had a queen at the back in her traditional starting square. Unsurprisingly, the king was on the top tier, also in his usual spot.

Without thinking, Harry picked up the pawn on the second tier and found himself with a newspaper in his hands. The headline was at eye level.

FLAME RELEASED FROM AZKABAN.

Hermione looked over his shoulder. 'January 4^th, 1955.'

Harry kept reading: The Dark wizard Flame, convicted twenty years ago today of arson against Ministry headquarters in London and six instances of murder by magical methods therein, was released after serving out his sentence....It has been speculated that Flame's avoidance of both the Kiss and a life sentence were attributable to the passionate defence undertaken by none other than -

Harry was shocked by the name on the page. Albus Dumbledore. 'Why would Dumbledore help him out? He's a Dark wizard and a murderer!'

'There has to be a reason,' she replied, sounding unsure of herself. 'We should ask his portrait; it might know. But what does this have to do with Voldemort?'

'I don't know.'

He frowned and folded the paper up. 'But I do know that those chess pieces can only be representing Horcruxes. The diary and the ring are two of the pieces lying down, and the locket is one of them too - he thought we'd destroyed it already. That pawn -' it was back where it had been before Harry picked it up '- gave us this as a clue. It has to mean something.'

***

The sun was falling in the sky and painting the castle walls red as McGonagall led Harry, Ron, and Hermione to her office. Harry couldn't help but smile despite himself; it was so good to be back at Hogwarts. The halls were so quiet with no students in the castle that it was like the trio were sneaking around at midnight.

He glimpsed Hagrid's cottage out the window and thought briefly of visiting him when this was over.

They climbed the stairs with Headmistress McGonagall, and she opened the door for them once they reached it. 'Good luck, Mr Potter, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley,' she said as she closed the doors behind them.

The office was very different, and Harry's chest ached to see most traces of Dumbledore gone. The old Headmasters and Headmistresses had deserted their portraits, fleeing the empty walls of the school.

In the only occupied portrait, which also happened to be the largest of all, Albus Dumbledore sat in a beanbag chair, puffing smoke out of a long pipe.

'Hello[,] Harry,' greeted Dumbledore, setting down the pipe and staring down at him intently. 'Ron, Hermione,' he acknowledged, tipping his sleeping cap to them.

Harry hadn't realized how bizarre this would feel.

'Headmaster Dumbledore,' Harry replied guardedly, hands clutched in his pockets. 'It's good to see you, sir.'

'No it's not, you're disturbed by it, as well you should be. And please call me Albus, for I am not your Headmaster anymore, and I regard you completely as an equal.'

Refusing to be distracted, Harry continued, 'Sir, I -'

'Albus, Harry, Albus.' Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and gazed over his spectacles in expectation.

'Albus -' Harry's mouth felt all wrong saying that '- I'm looking for a Dark wizard named Flame.' Dumbledore's lips fell in disapproval. 'I believe he may have something to do with the Ho -'

'No, Harry!' said Dumbledore sharply. 'Don't say that word in here. The walls have ears, you see.' He indicated the other portraits; they were still empty, but Harry got the point - their occupants could come back any minute.

'You're barking up the wrong tree, Harry,' Dumbledore told him calmly. 'Flame was long before Voldemort's time, and they have never met.'

Annoyed at the abrupt dismissal of his information, Harry grated out, 'Could you please tell me why you're so sure about that?'

Dumbledore pushed his spectacles up his nose with his right hand - no burns in sight - and said, 'No, for you have given me no reason why you need to know it.'

'No reason?' His voice and temper raised, Harry asked in frustration, 'Then could you at least tell me why you, of all people, defended what he did?'

'Harry!' Hermione scolded him under her breath.

'I could, but I don't appreciate being spoken to in such a manner. And where did you hear about that?' Dumbledore frowned and picked up his pipe again; he blew rings of smoke into the next portrait.

'I don't think it would be a good idea to say in an insecure area, sir.'

'Let's chance it, shall we?'

So Harry said it quietly and in as few words as possible: 'A mindscape in Mr Weasley created by Voldemort.'

Dumbledore raised one long eyebrow in scepticism. 'The clue could have been planted there for you to find,' he pointed out.

'If it is, I'll find out one way or another.'

'Too true.' Dumbledore seemed satisfied by Harry's answer. 'There is nothing to lose by trying except life and limb. I have no intention of besmirching your judgment, so I will treat this clue as though it were incontrovertible, though we both know it is not.'

'Why did you defend this Dark wizard after all he'd done?' asked Hermione. Harry was startled; he'd nearly forgotten that his friends were there.

'Ah ah,' said Dumbledore, wagging his finger, 'that is not my story to tell. You will have to ask Will when you see him, and in the meantime I request that you give me the benefit of the doubt on the matter.'

Harry was willing to, after all Dumbledore had done for him. 'So you know where he is?'

'Certainly. He has been living in France since he was released.'

'Where?'

Dumbledore shook his head, but with a smile on his face that made Harry sure there was more information to come. 'I haven't kept track of his address these past few decades. You should ask his granddaughter.'

'Granddaughter?'

'Fleur Delacour - pardon me, it's Weasley now, isn't it?' Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with enjoyment as he watched them struggle.

'Wait a minute!' cried Ron. 'Her granddad's the Minister for Magic in France, isn't he?'

'No, it's the other one,' said Harry, the words tumbling out as he realized them. 'I met him at the wedding!'

'Harry is correct,' Dumbledore piped in.

'Thank you, sir,' Harry said. 'We should go see her.'

'Anytime, Harry, anytime! But it's Albus, remember!'

***

Bill and Fleur lived in a decent-sized rented flat in the suburbs of the suburbs of London. Ron knocked on the door, and they waited.

'Who's there?' called a muffled voice through the door that could only be Bill's.

'It's me, Ron. Hermione and Harry are here too.'

'Why are you here?' asked the voice.

The three exchanged questioning looks as they wondered why it would matter. 'Uh, we just need to talk to Fleur. Is everything okay in there?'

Bill opened the door just enough for them to get through. 'Come in fast.'

The door shut behind them, and Bill aimed his wand at the door, casting a strong Locking Spell and reinstating several wards that made the door glow a dull red. Once that was taken care of, Bill was remarkably calmer. 'Fleur's in the bathroom. She'll be out in a minute.'

'How's she doing?' asked Hermione. It was obvious what she meant: the pregnancy, and the argument they'd had over it.

'Oh, we made up,' said Bill with a wry smile. 'She's staying. I went a little nuts when I found out she was pregnant. This isn't the best time to have a baby - I mean, I'm glad about it, but - hey, Fleur, we've got company!'

''Arry!'

Fleur tackled Harry into a hug, her smile beaming brilliantly. She kissed him on the forehead and hugged Ron next - adding a kiss on the cheek, which Ron took better than usual. Hermione was last. 'I'm so glad to see you! I went to 'eadquarters earlier and you were not zair! What 'ave you been up to all day long at 'Ogwarts?'

They all gave different answers at once, none of them true, and Fleur elbowed a smirking Bill.

'So...Fleur,' started Ron. They had agreed that he should be the one to ask, since he was Fleur's brother-in-law now. 'We were wondering...that is, we really, really need to talk to your grandfather.'

Fleur appeared puzzled 'Grandfazzer? Why? Does ze Order 'ave business with ze French Ministry?'

'No,' refuted Ron, shifting awkwardly under Fleur and Bill's scrutiny.

'I didn't think so, since they would've told us when we stopped by,' said Bill. 'So then why...?'

Harry was happy to let Ron continue to take the lead, but Hermione rescued him. 'We need to speak to your other grandfather. Dumbledore said his name is William Acestes, and he used to be a Dark wizard called Flame.'

Silence. Harry could tell by Bill's flat expression that he already knew everything, or at least enough to not be pleased. Fleur bit at the inside of her lip and glared right at Harry, as if she knew this line of questioning was due to him. 'Why?'

Harry replied, 'We think he's somehow connected to Voldemort.'

Fleur snarled, and Harry could swear that the edges of her face became sharper. ''Ow dare you! 'E 'as nozzing to do wiz 'im!'

Bill glared and put his arm around her, angry that they had upset his wife. 'What evidence do you have?'

'We found reference to him in a prominent place in the mindscape left inside your father,' stated Hermione, not backing down from the confrontation. 'I can tell you're both uncomfortable with this, but we're not accusing him of anything -'

'Just of knowing ze worst wizard of all time!' shouted Fleur shrilly.

Hermione raised her voice to speak over Fleur and added, 'We need to know what the connection is! Maybe your grandfather is entirely innocent -'

'He isn't,' said Bill dully with clear reluctance. Fleur stared at him furiously. 'He did the crimes he was convicted for. Even you admit it,' he told Fleur.

'Yes, but -'

'So,' Bill pressed, 'maybe they met. If there's any suspicion at all, there's no harm in asking him about it.'

Harry was relieved that Bill was on their side now. Fleur protested weakly, 'But it will upset 'im! 'E is an old man, and 'e is not well!'

'We'll do our best not to upset him,' assured Hermione.

Even to Harry, this seemed a poor argument considering how badly they'd upset Fleur. Fleur huffed derisively.

'Fine, but I will go with you, and you will leave if 'e asks you to! We should go in ze morning. Zat is when his mind is best...usually.'

***

Apparating to France was dizzying. Harry swayed heavily from side to side; Hermione fell onto her bottom on the dirt path and was yanked up to her feet by Ron. Fleur's landing was steady - she had more experience at long-distance Apparition - and since she ended up closer to the house, she was the first to knock.

Harry saw Fleur throw her arms around the man who opened the door.

'Oh ho! What a pleasant surprise this is!' Flame - Will - called to them as they shuffled forward. Will's silver hair was unkempt and fell to his shoulders, and he wore a pink bathrobe. 'I was just steeping some tea! Hurry up there!'

He disappeared inside with Fleur. The others walked quickly to the wide open door.

The inside of the small country house had walls covered by pink flower-patterned wallpaper decades out of style - if it was ever in style at all - and every flat surface was covered by a unique doily. Books, magazines, and various odds and ends were stacked in ungainly piles against the walls.

Harry could hear Will chatting with Fleur in the kitchen. He abruptly emerged with a levitated silver tea set. The tea set dipped from side to side as Will walked, mirroring his swaying gait, and was nearly always just a hair away from spilling.

'Not the biting ones, I promise!' he announced loudly. Fleur rolled her eyes with a smile in the way of someone who has heard the same joke dozens of times over. 'I hope you like Earl Grey, that's all I serve in this house! Sit, sit!'

Before they could do as they were told, Will flicked his wand. The legs of the dining room table transfigured into frog legs, and the legs walked toward each other until the table was a much smaller size.

'No need for formality, I hate that old table, too damn big for the room, been too lazy to change it until now -' he told them as he waved his wand again. The second spell changed the dining room chairs into cushy armchairs.

Harry slowly sat down, watching Will's wand to make sure his chair wasn't about to sprout antlers, and a full cup of tea was in front of him by the time he looked up.

'Grandfazzer, zere is no need to make any special effort -'

'Oh nonsense, I never have guests, what on earth are you still doing standing up? Sit. And where is that husband of yours? He's not giving you grief, is he?'

Will had a nearly dangerous look on his face.

'No, no!'

'Well then!' He broke out in smiles again and took his own seat. Hermione was sipping her piping hot tea on Harry's left. Ron was squirming in his chair on Harry's right; it was so cushy that he was sinking into it. By the time Ron's chin was bumping the top of the table and Will still hadn't noticed, Hermione discreetly corrected the transfiguration.

'Let's see if I can remember your names...you are Harry Potter, of course, but I'm at a loss for the lady's...yours is Roy, isn't it?' he asked Ron.

'Ron.'

'And I'm Hermione Granger.'

'Grandfazzer...' Fleur breathed in deeply and said, 'Zey are here to talk wiz you about He Who Must Not Be Named.'

Will made a face and shrugged mildly. 'Nasty blighter. Gives a bad name to Dark wizards everywhere, as if we - er, they, rather - didn't have a bad enough name as it is.'

Harry waited a few seconds, but that seemed to be all Will had to say. 'We believe he knows you.'

Will didn't even blink at the question. 'Merlin, no. Never met him. Have a biscuit.'

'Are you sure?' asked Hermione, keeping her tone light and eyeing Fleur to gauge her temper. Discreetly, she hinted, 'Maybe he's heard of you.'

Will casually refilled his cup of tea, either ignoring the hint or not getting it. 'You'd have to ask him who he's heard of and not heard of, but personally I wouldn't advise it. Nasty blighter,' he repeated, shaking his head grimly.

Harry sighed. 'What Hermione means is that she thinks he may have heard of your attack on the Ministry.'

His mouth opened in shock, and he set down his teacup. 'Goodness, do you think so?' he asked as though he'd genuinely never considered the idea. 'Well, I suppose he may have. It's in the curriculum, isn't it? History of Magic?'

'Yes,' confirmed Hermione.

'Well then!' said Will, good humour returning. 'I suppose he has heard of it! Well! That's wonderful! Isn't it wonderful, Fleur?'

Fleur looked at him worriedly.

Hermione whispered, 'I think he's forgotten what we're talking about.'

'Could you tell us more about the arson you committed at the Ministry?' asked Harry, speaking slowly and clearly.

Will was immediately back in the moment. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily. 'I suppose so. I owe it to anyone who asks. It was an accident, you see. Mostly. I didn't even know it was real until I stepped outside. They were pouring water on my head,' he muttered, patting his hair absently.

Harry didn't know how to make sense of that. This was going to take a while. 'It was an accident? How did you accidentally set fire to the Ministry?'

'And why couldn't they extinguish it?' wondered Hermione aloud.

Will fixed on Hermione's question. 'Aha! Yes! Eternal Flame is troublesome to put out. It's doable, but it takes time, and certain potions need to be thrown in...let's see, what were they again?'

Will seemed to be lost in thought; then he blinked, looked around, and smiled. 'Biscuits, anyone?'

Harry took a deep breath and tried to be patient. 'Why did you set fire to the Ministry?'

'Why did I...? Ah, that. It was supposed to be a demonstration. In those days the fad in Dark wizardry was the idea that we ought to reveal ourselves to the Muggles. Not to take over the Muggle world, you understand - just so we wouldn't have to hide any longer. Now, I call it a fad, but back then I believed that we would all be one happy family if not for the Secrecy Statute keeping us apart.

'I know better now. Throw magic in their faces and the Muggles still won't see it for what it is.'

Will sighed. Harry could tell by now when Will was about to lose his train of thought, so he tried to keep him on it by asking, 'So you wanted the Muggles to see the fire?'

'Yes! The flames were green, after all. It's a great deal of trouble to go to, making green flames. I thought perhaps yellow and black at first, my old house colours, but then I decided that black would send the wrong message and yellow was too much like ordinary fire. I could have tried pink -'

'And since the fire had to be put out magically, you thought the Muggles would see wizards using magic?' Hermione interrupted as Will flew off on a tangent.

'Yes! Exactly! I wanted to put out the fire myself in a grand display...'

Then Will appeared agitated. 'But it didn't work out like that at all.'

Harry could tell that they were finally getting somewhere. 'What happened?' he asked.

'I was hoodwinked. The idea for all this came from a man who I thought was a good friend of mine. He supplied everything I would need to put the fire out. Spell instructions, potions...I was a decent enough Dark wizard, you see, but young. I didn't know nearly enough to pull off the plan without help.

'But he deceived me, my friend, and the potions turned the fire into a terrible, monstrous creature of flame. I'm amazed it only took six lives. He was probably hoping for more. Evil man.'

'Who was this friend?' Harry prompted him.

'Oh, you've heard of him. Grindelwald. I met him as I hopped about Europe - brilliant with Dark magic, he was. But then he started a war and got himself killed by a wonderful wizard...can't quite recall the name...'

'Dumbledore?' supplied Harry.

Will snapped his fingers. 'Yes! That's it! Albus Dumbledore! He defended me at my trial, you know. He knew I didn't mean for it to go as far as it did.' His eyes glazed over in memory. 'Oh, how my poor Belle sobbed at the sentencing. Dumbledore was very kind to her. Great man, Dumbledore. I still can't believe she waited all those years for my release...'

Harry frowned in thought. He turned to Hermione. 'I still don't see what this has to do with Voldemort, do you?'

Will clapped his hands over his ears. ''Arry!' Fleur scolded warningly. 'Ze name!'

Harry cringed. 'Er, sorry.'

Hermione replied, 'I don't see the connection either.'

'Zen per'aps we should go,' suggested Fleur.

'Just a minute,' said Harry hurriedly. He didn't want to go yet - there had to be some clue! He had to stall until he could think of something. 'Er...what year did you do it in?' he asked.

'It was 1934,' Will replied instantly. 'New Year's Eve, in fact. I picked the day for symbolism, you know - the dawn of a new era of magical/Muggle cooperation.' He chuckled bitterly.

'That's his birthday!' Harry realized.

'Who's?' asked Will.

'Er, never mind.' A thought occurred to him. He added up the math in his head. 'Were there any children around? A boy, about seven years old?'

Will's face scrunched up in thought. 'When I left the building...right before they arrested me...I had set my hair on fire, just for the effect. There were Muggles gathered around the building to watch, just as I'd hoped, and a Muggle threw a bucket of water on me. My hair didn't go out, and - yes! I remember it as if it were yesterday!'

He paused, and his eyes glazed over in reminiscence. 'I was still excited because I hadn't realized yet that it had all gone wrong...yes, my head was on fire, and it was starting to tingle, but it was all perfectly safe, and there was that Muggle boy.

Will grinned ecstatically. 'He is my one good memory of that day. That Muggle boy stared up at the flames and smiled like he was seeing fireworks for the first time. I approached him, and he turned to me with that same smile, and he asked, "Is this for my birthday?"

'I laughed and told him it was.' Like he was reliving the moment, Will laughed heartily and shot up out of his chair.

'Someone poured another bucket of water on me. Everyone else screamed, terrified witches and wizards streamed from the building, and most of the Muggles tried to stay clear of me, but that boy stood there smiling - he was an adorable boy. I declared loudly to the crowd that it was magic, but they all thought I was insane.

'That boy, though...I think he believed me. He was the only one I convinced.'

'Can we see your memory?' asked Hermione, voice high with excitement. 'Please, it could be very important!'

'I don't have a Pensieve myself, but -'

'That's okay, we have one!' They didn't, but Harry was sure someone they knew would.

'Hmm...I haven't done this in a while...'

Will set his wand against his temple and drew out the strand of memory. 'Anyone have somewhere to put this?' he asked as it hung there.

Fleur scrambled into the kitchen and brought out a potion vial. 'Here, grandfazzer.'

'Thank you, dear.' He dipped the memory into the vial and handed it to her.

She handed it to Harry.