Harry Potter and the Simulacrum Seal

Chapter Twenty-One: Triple-Crossed

George Weasley was no longer struggling against his captors. There was no point - the underground complex he was being paraded through was crawling with masked Death Eaters. His pockets, even the ones inside his robes, had been emptied while he was unconscious; he had nothing to fight them with.

George wondered how he'd ended up this way. He couldn't remember what had happened. He and Fred had been closing up shop after their Halloween Blow-Out Sale - Everything Must Go! Then someone had come into the shop - George wondered if it had been a Death Eater.

Then he shook his head. No, it had been Penelope Clearwater, Percy's old girlfriend. They'd asked after Percy, and George couldn't remember her answer. At some point, she'd fallen down dead, and Death Eaters had stormed the shop.

George's mouth quirked in amusement; he knew that he and Fred must have given them a fight, but here he was anyway.

He wasn't stupid. He fully expected to die that night in some gruesomely painful way - but first he intended to give a piece of his mind to a certain bloke. He'd been told he was going to see the Dark Lord, and he intended to have some fun before he was tortured. He owed it to Fred to go out with a bang.

George frowned in confusion - he couldn't remember what had happened to Fred.

The tunnels seemed never-ending, but eventually George was brought before a large stone door with a serpent carved in the centre. 'Gee, subtle, isn't he?' he remarked to his captors.

'Shut up,' said the Death Eater leading him as another banged the door knocker.

Boom, boom, boom.

After a few seconds, the door slowly opened inward. The inside of the room was a lot different from the barely-lit passages George had travelled; it was opulent, with flickers of gold catching George's eye everywhere and carpets lining the floor. He didn't have much inclination to look around further, but he did notice the skeleton chained to the wall behind a tall, imposing throne.

In the throne was a shrivelled figure shrouded in black from head to toe. The realization of who it must be made him instinctively shrink back - but when the Death Eaters prodded George forward, he held his head high and tried not to be afraid, deciding that insane bravery was better than cowardice.

'Which of them is this one?' asked the figure in a high, croaking voice.

'My Lord, this is George Weasley,' said one of the Death Eaters. George caught a glimpse of another Death Eater skulking in the corner of the room, but his head quickly snapped back to the Dark Lord.

'I can introduce myself, thanks,' sniped George. He mock-bowed and declared, 'George Weasley, most displeased to meet you, Your Rancid Ugliness.'

The Death Eater behind him hissed in fury. 'Why you -'

Lord Voldemort held up one black-gloved hand to silence his minion. 'Sticks and stones, Mr Weasley.'

'At least he's not pissing himself on the carpet,' the Death Eater in the corner noted dryly.

George recognized his voice right off. The fear he'd been hiding fell against the might of his hatred. 'Snape,' he said with a sneer.

'You're stealing my thunder, Severus,' said Voldemort with a warning edge that made Snape take a step back.

Voldemort's attention returned to George. 'Have a seat.'

He waved his wand, and a short chair materialized across from Voldemort's throne. With another flick of Voldemort's wrist, George found himself materialized into the chair. He blinked away his disorientation.

George's nose wrinkled at the odd smell of decay in the air.

'Tell me who the Order's Secret-Keeper is,' spoke Voldemort.

'Remus Lupin,' George replied immediately. His eyes opened wide in terror, and he gripped his throat with his hand, not knowing how the words had gotten out.

'Hmm, yes. The werewolf. Something will have to be done about him.'

Voldemort threw off his hood, and George recoiled in disgusted horror. Some of the flesh on his face was eaten away; his tongue was visible through ragged holes in his cheeks.

Then George felt claws dig into his mind. He tossed his head from side to side in uncontrolled agony as images and voices flashed in quick succession.

Just when it seemed like they couldn't get inside him any further, the claws retracted, leaving George violated and not so brave as before.

'Severus,' hissed Voldemort, 'what is this I see about an attempt on Potter's life?'

After a brief pause, Snape coolly replied, 'I don't know what you mean, my Lord.'

'It took place this summer. The boy here knows all about it.' Voldemort indicated George with a long finger. 'Strange, that he should know something I do not, isn't it?'

'If you're referring to Greyback -'

'Before that! The Imperius Curse was cast on one of Potter's friends - this one's brother. That friend tried to murder him in his bed! Why was I not informed of this?'

Voldemort ascended from his seat and turned on Snape with a snarl.

Snape bowed his head. 'Should I investigate on your behalf?'

Voldemort turned his back on Snape and made his way for the door. 'No! I shall do it myself!' He threw the drooping hood back over his head. 'Bring the boy!'

George found himself being hauled out of the chair and out into the passageway in Voldemort's wake. He was too dizzy to resist. They turned several corners in the complex; Voldemort was well ahead of them, and those of Voldemort's followers who George passed on the way were either flattened against the wall or cowering on their knees.

The Death Eaters hauling George both paused at once. Each grasped his own arm.

'He's calling a meeting,' said one.

From behind them, Snape added, 'Of course. He wishes to know who the traitor among our number is.'

'Traitor?' said the other in panic.

'Yes, Oswald,' Snape said mockingly. 'Obviously there must be a traitor in our midst who tried to kill Potter without the Dark Lord's knowledge. You were in the room when this was discovered, yet still you must play catch-up?'

Snape ushered them forward, apparently anxious to get to the meeting room as soon as possible.

It was a large, undecorated, circular cavern with steps leading to a larger throne than the one before. A gigantic snake was coiled on the ground at Voldemort's feet. As more cloaked figures gathered in the room, the snake reared its head and watched closely as the Death Eaters filed in. It hissed at Snape in particular, which made George smirk - the snake was a better judge of character than its master.

The room was full within minutes. A couple dozen of Voldemort's followers gathered. George was pushed forward and pressed to his knees by the side of Voldemort's throne. The snake hissed at him more menacingly than it had at Snape, and he gulped.

Now that George was closer to Voldemort than ever before, the stench of his decaying flesh was nearly unbearable.

'Tonight I have captured a member of the Order of the Phoenix - one that is well-connected to Harry Potter.' He cut off the cheers with a jerk of his hand. 'Through examining his mind, I have determined that there was an attempt on Potter's life months ago that none of you bothered to inform me of - and don't tell me that no one knew!'

No one spoke. The tension in the room rose. In a low voice, Lord Voldemort spoke, 'Draco Malfoy, step forward.'

The Death Eater crowd parted instantly to let him through. Draco Malfoy threw off his mask and hood and knelt on one knee before his master - but he stayed silent.

Voldemort again took off his hood, and George watched as the Death Eaters stiffened at the sight of him. 'Look at me,' he commanded to Draco.

With visible reluctance, Draco's eyes rose to Voldemort's...

'My Lord!' said Snape. Voldemort's head snapped up. Snape came forward and knelt beside Draco. 'You have my sincerest apologies for not informing you of the incident with Potter earlier.'

'Oh?' remarked Voldemort, his light tone contrasting with the readying of his wand. 'So you lied to me, Severus?'

Snape bowed his head even lower, a curtain of hair concealing his eyes. 'No, My Lord. I thought you had been told, given that the one responsible is one of your most trusted servants.'

Terror snapped through the room in an instant. Several of the Death Eaters shook in place. 'And who might that be, Severus? Look at me!'

Snape raised his head and looked Voldemort in the eye. For a full minute, the room was silent but for the sound of the snake shifting its coils. Finally Voldemort's eyes broke away from Snape's, and Snape bowed his head again.

'Bella,' whispered Voldemort.

A woman at the front of the crowd removed her mask and took down her hood. Her eyes were wide with fear. 'My Lord?'

'Severus seems to think that you were responsible for the attempt on Potter's life. Is this true?'

Bellatrix Lestrange opened her mouth and, glaring at Snape with unhidden fury, screeched, 'It is not! I did no such thing! Why would I?! You told us to leave Potter alone!'

'Yet someone has disobeyed that order, and you have been accused!' Voldemort stepped out of his chair, and Draco and Snape quickly stood up and shuffled back to make way for him. 'Look into my eyes, Bella!'

Bellatrix did so unflinchingly. George's attention was caught by the sight of Snape's wand; unseen by the rest of the room, it flicked in Bellatrix's direction.

Within moments, Voldemort withdrew. 'You lie!' he accused.

Shaking in terror, Bellatrix fell to the ground in a deep bow. 'My Lord, I promise -'

'Crucio!'

Her shrill screams echoed in the room with such force that they seemed to come from everywhere. George averted his eyes; by accident, he found himself staring straight at Snape and Malfoy.

Malfoy's eyes were at first fixed on Bellatrix, and George could see his surprise and fear. Then he turned to Snape and tugged on the sleeve of his robes, trying to get his attention. Snape completely ignored Malfoy; when he noticed George observing him, he glared at him angrily, but George continued to stare unflinchingly.

I know, you bastard, he thought, a triumphant smile on his face as their body language gave the pair away. It was you, and you're going to get yours -

Then Snape flicked his wand again - in George's direction. The next moment he found himself frowning and blinking repeatedly. Hadn't he been thinking something important just a moment ago? Whatever it was, he couldn't recall it anymore.

Bellatrix's shrieks died down; soon she was silent, flopping against the floor like a fish out of water. 'Let this be a lesson to you all,' said Voldemort menacingly to his servants.

Still holding the spell on Bellatrix, he turned to Snape. 'I will need Lucius now that Bella cannot be relied upon. It is time for us to reclaim our comrades from Azkaban. You will lead a small party to retrieve them tomorrow night.'

'Of course, My Lord, if that is your desire.'

'I know that it has been yours for some time,' answered Voldemort with a shrewd look.

Snape did not dispute it; he bowed again to his master. Voldemort lifted the Cruciatus Curse - but Bellatrix didn't move. 'Alecto, take her to the dungeon. I'm not done with her yet.'

A stout Death Eater emerged and levitated Bellatrix out of the room. 'As for the rest of you, keep to your assigned tasks. Hinder the Ministry and the Order, torment the Muggles and the cowardly wizards who do not join us, but Potter is not to be harmed. If he comes within view, you are far too close to him. Is that understood?'

A chorus of agreement rippled through the room. 'Bring him,' said Voldemort, indicating George to the two Death Eaters who'd carted him around before.

As he left the room in Voldemort's wake, glaring at the bowed Death Eaters, George wondered what the most evil wizard of the age had in store for him...

***

Snape strode quickly from the room after Voldemort and Weasley were gone; Draco followed on his heels. Once the crowd had thinned to nothing and they were in a small washroom alone, he said, 'You didn't have to use her.'

Snape rolled his eyes and cast a spell to prevent anyone from overhearing them. 'Of course I did,' he replied smoothly. 'She has a reputation for being foolish and impulsive. It was believable. Considering that it got your father out of Azkaban, I don't see what you could possibly have to complain about.'

'I'm not complaining,' muttered Draco. 'I'm just saying -'

'Would you have preferred that I let the Dark Lord know about your activities?' Snape stopped and turned on him. 'Not only did you attempt -'

'I didn't attempt anything!' interrupted Draco in annoyance. 'You wanted Weasley under Imperius so we could watch Potter, you had me cast the spell -'

'I trained you because I wouldn't have been able to carry the operation out properly,' he answered calmly. 'I'm not a seventeen-year-old, and acting like one would have been challenging. You were perfect for the task - and the Dark Lord would have been pleased with you if you hadn't ruined it. Perhaps your father would be out of Azkaban already.'

The accusation stung, and Draco lashed out, 'They would have found me out anyway! It was a dumb idea! Do you know how many funny looks I got at that bachelor party because I didn't know all their stupid stories about Uncle Bert this and Aunt whatever that?!

'It would have blown over,' said Snape with disdain. 'Instead you ruined everything by trying to kill Potter - and you couldn't even do that right.'

Draco stared at the ground as they walked again, sulking. It wasn't entirely true; he hadn't really tried to kill Potter. He was going to, but then that bloody knot in his stomach had tightened up, and he'd thrown off the spell on purpose.

But Snape didn't need to know that. He thought little enough of Draco already.

'You've made your share of mistakes,' Draco accused angrily. 'Like the werewolf attack - you were supposed to keep Potter away!'

Snape was quiet for a moment. 'I've paid for that, dearly,' he replied softly, staring at his own hands - his fingernails were thick with dirt. Snape went to the sink and scrubbed his hands.

'Even the Dark Lord's favourites cannot make such errors with impunity. You, being far from his favourite, cannot be discovered to have gone near Potter. You would pay with your life - as Bellatrix will now pay with whatever remains of her sanity, at the least.'

Draco frowned. He'd forgotten that he had a request to make; he wished now that he hadn't antagonized Snape. 'I want to go to Azkaban with you to get my father,' he declared. While he sounded proud, as he knew he always should, he bit his lip unconsciously, nervously waiting for Snape's reply.

Snape shrugged. 'As you wish. It is not a particularly dangerous mission - but you will follow my orders, and you will stay back while the rest of us deal with the guards.'

That was fine with Draco; he wasn't suicidal. 'Okay,' he agreed.

The first item was now scratched off his agenda with Snape. There was one other, but he needed to be much less direct about it. 'What do you suppose the Dark Lord will do with Weasley?' he asked casually, leaning against the wall.

Snape quirked an eyebrow. 'Why would you care?' he wondered.

Draco scowled and wondered how much more direct he could be without getting into trouble. 'Just curious,' he answered.

'Curiosity is not a good enough reason to stick your nose in the Dark Lord's affairs.'

'I don't want details,' he argued - as if anyone but his Aunt Bella would want to know about the ins and outs of the Dark Lord's torture routine. 'I'm just wondering if he'll be killed tonight or not.'

Snape looked at him suspiciously, and Draco was beginning to wish he hadn't asked. '...No,' he told Draco after a pregnant pause. 'I don't expect he will kill him. He asked for the Weasley twins specifically. Their inventiveness has caught his attention - particularly that simulacrum of Potter.'

Draco didn't try to hide his surprise. 'You mean he wants them to work for us - like Ollivander?'

Snape smirked. 'Yes, after he's squeezed all the information he can out of him. But I doubt that Weasley will be as...cooperative as Ollivander. I suppose that the Dark Lord will threaten to murder his brother - Weasley won't know that his twin escaped.

'But then we come back to why you're bothering to ask...why is that, Draco?'

Draco huffed and rolled his eyes, pretending to be irritated instead of secretive. 'Can't a fellow just make conversation? You always suspect a conspiracy.'

With evident annoyance, he turned to Draco and told him, 'If I wasn't usually right, I wouldn't be alive, would I? You're hiding something, and I'll find out what it is eventually - hopefully before the Dark Lord does.'

Snape seemed satisfied with the soapy torment he'd visited upon his reddened hands. 'Go home and prepare for tomorrow night. I'm sure your mother will want to hear the good news about her husband.'

And the bad news about her sister, Draco thought but didn't say.

As Draco left the complex alone, he plotted. If Weasley was going to remain alive for some time in the future, he had some chance of getting a word in with him. It would be a little risky, but he couldn't keep his leverage hidden in his underwear drawer forever. Besides, even sleeping near the locket was creepy, and the longer he kept it, the more likely Snape was to find out.

Draco needed to know why Potter wanted that locket.

***

The room was thick with talking, and Harry had rarely been so frustrated by mere words. Despite the arguments about whether to launch a rescue or not (obviously not, as they didn't even know where he was) and about whether he was alive or dead, everyone knew there was nothing to be done.

Mrs Weasley sat in quiet devastation, dried of emotion by heartbroken tears. Fred's eyes were two wide, lidless balls of glass that stared senselessly out the window at the light rainwater dripping down.

Eventually the Order members who had gathered to discuss the attack dispersed, and a desolate silence descended upon the old house. Grimmauld Place felt as full of darkness as it ever was.

Every remaining Weasley brother except for Percy was in the room with their mother - so were Hermione, Harry, and Fleur. The first to stand after many long, mournful moments was Fred, and immediately all the other brothers stood and leaned toward him.

'I'm going home,' said Fred dully.

'No, you're coming home with me,' said Bill immediately. 'You aren't going back to that shop tonight; it's a crime scene. The Aurors will be all over it, and...'

And, Harry finished himself, we're not leaving you alone.

'Thanks, but I'm fine,' answered Fred.

Bill grabbed him by the arm; Fred looked up at his older brother with tired eyes. 'You're coming with me, or you can go with Charlie if you'd rather.'

'Has Percy been told?' Fred asked out of the blue, his voice shaking. 'He used to date Penelope Clearwater, you know. Even if he doesn't care about...about George...he might care about her.'

'You let us worry about Percy,' Bill told him firmly, his other hand falling on Fred's shoulder and closing on it tightly. 'You're going to stay with me and Fleur.'

'We will be 'appy to 'ave you,' added Fleur. 'We will not take "no" for an answer.'

Mrs Weasley looked over at Fleur with sincere gratitude, but her sadness did not leave her eyes for a moment.

Fred didn't put up a prolonged fight; he agreed to go with Bill and Fleur, and the three of them left at once. Once Mrs Weasley was settled in bed - though Harry couldn't imagine that she'd get any sleep at all - Charlie quietly slipped out too.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were left together. None of them knew what to say. Harry looked at the clock, and some of his stress fell away when he saw that it was well past midnight. The horrible Halloween was over.

***

When he woke, Harry peeked into Ron's curtains and found him dead asleep, contorted in his sheets. He quietly slipped out of the room and then out of the house; it seemed strange to him that the sun would still shine brightly after such a night.

He was more determined than ever to reenter the mindscape that day. Finding the next Horcrux was his only clear mission with no Death Eater to fight to avenge George's capture (or death).

The Janus Thickey ward was empty but for its patients - and they were used to Harry hanging around by now, so they were completely calm as he swept in and settled in by Mr Weasley's bed. Harry absentmindedly fiddled with some of the items in the mindscape room, not finding anything of note (which he expected, since he'd closely examined everything already).

'Maybe I should look for something less obvious,' he said to himself, filling the uncomfortable stillness - it was odd not having Hermione with him.

There was the snow globe again. He took one step toward it, and then he sighed. He'd tried everything possible with it, and Harry didn't want more frustration; he wanted answers. He took a symbolic step back.

Harry decided to try something new. He moved the furniture around, peeked under the carpet, examined the lamps, and glanced under, between, and within the tables and chairs.

'This is pointless,' Harry cried out loud, falling into the red armchair. 'There's nothing here.'

He looked up and noticed, for the first time in a few visits, the odd sign on the wall - the one Hermione hadn't found in any of her books yet - and wondered what it could mean.

It was a circle with three petals inside. A jagged line split the top petal in two as if it were somehow broken.

Harry blinked furiously, realizing that he was fading out of consciousness. He'd stayed too long. Forcing himself to his feet, he told himself, 'I have to go.'

He realized, as he clomped down the hall, that the visit had been a pointless failure. There was nothing for him to do but wait for Voldemort to make his next move, and that wait was impossible. How many more people would die before Harry destroyed the Horcruxes?

So angered and disillusioned that he was blinking back tears, Harry wished with all his heart that Dumbledore was still there. He would have known what to make of the mindscape.

Harry was struck by the realization that Ginny would be waking up that morning without knowing that her brother was gone. I should write to her, he thought.

But then he frowned and decided against it. He could write to her about George, but Ginny's mother and brothers would too, and Harry was sure that she wouldn't want to read such painful news more times than she had to.

He spent the rest of the early morning trying to compose a letter that didn't mention George's abduction or his mother's grave being desecrated - but since that was all that filled his mind, the letter ended up something like:

Hello Ginny,

How are you? We're still at Grimmauld Place. Lovely weather today...

He crumpled it up and binned it.

***

As the morning wore on, Harry grew impatient for the arrival of the owl post, hoping to hear something from Ginny. The Order screened all their mail and delivered it once a week; today was the day, but he wondered morosely if they'd forgotten.

The waiting made it difficult to focus on the map of Europe unfurled across the floor on which Hermione and Ron were making marks wherever there was a collector who claimed to have the legitimate heart of Ravenclaw.

'This is a waste of time,' said Harry grumpily.

'No, it's not,' Hermione replied. 'If the locket was found, the heart could have been as well. It's a long shot, but the mindscape hasn't given us anything useful. It seems to me that the prospective heart in Turkey is our best chance at the moment. We can't possibly Apparate that far, so I think we ought to try Muggle transport, like an airplane.'

Ron's lip curled in distaste for the plan. 'We could fly on broomsticks instead.'

'To Turkey?' said Hermione, fixing him with an expression of disbelief. 'That's much too far.'

'I agree,' said Harry, smirking at the thought. 'Our arses would never be the same.'

Ron cringed at the thought. 'Portkey?' he tried.

Hermione rolled her eyes, annoyed with Ron's denseness. 'Yes, brilliant, let's get the Ministry to sanction a Portkey to Turkey. I'm sure they won't ask why we want to go - and let's not forget that Harry is a fugitive!'

'Thanks, Hermione,' said Harry sarcastically. 'I really didn't want to forget that.'

'Sorry, but it's true. What's so bad about flying in an airplane? You don't have a problem with cars.'

'Airplanes are scary,' Ron protested with deadly seriousness. 'How can Muggles keep a hunk of junk like that suspended in the air without magic?'

'It's quite simple, really -' Hermione began, but she was interrupted by a knock on the door. Ron and Hermione hurriedly rolled up the map.

'Just a minute,' called Harry, moving to the door and placing his hand on the knob. When the map was put away, he opened the door.

It was Mrs Weasley. Her eyes were red from crying. The atmosphere in the room, which had been slowly getting back to normal, plummeted into the depths of despair at her presence.

'The post was cleared by the Order.' She produced a stack of letters. 'There's one for you from Ginny.'

'Thank you,' Harry answered sombrely. He took the letters, and she walked away without another word. He wished he could find the right words to say to make Mrs Weasley feel better...but he also knew that there weren't any.

He distributed the post between his friends even as he tried to tear open Ginny's letter with his other hand.

'Hermione, Hermione, Ron, Hermione...you're sure popular,' he noted.

Hermione frowned in dismay, and for a moment Harry was worried that something bad had slithered through the Order's security measures. 'They're all from Luna,' she told him. She tore the first one open and added, 'This one's from September.'

'That's funny; I guess the post's slow from Durmstrang,' said Ron. 'Hey, mine's from Luna too.'

'I've got a couple,' said Harry. 'I guess this explains why none of us have heard from her.'

But instead of reading Luna's letter, Harry read Ginny's first. 'She still plans to stay after Christmas,' said Harry dolefully. The thought of destroying all the Horcruxes before her return was a distant dream.

Hermione drew a sharp breath in alarm and cried, 'Harry, look at this!'

She passed the second page of Luna's letter from September. Harry was going to read it, but then he saw the symbol drawn at the bottom of the page.

It was a circle with three petals, the top one broken - the same as the symbol on the wall in the mindscape.

'What is it?' asked Ron.

Hermione explained the significance to him while Harry read the text:

There's an awful lot of Dark arts books here at Durmstrang. They even have a class for it. I don't suppose you'd like it much - but I know you liked Ancient Runes as much as I did, and you would definitely be surprised to see how many of them we weren't taught at Hogwarts (and here's one, if you don't believe me). I'm not surprised at all because the Ministry tries to keep us from knowing things that we could use to overthrow the government!

'Read the other letters Luna sent,' insisted Harry. 'She might have mentioned it again.'

'That's what I'm doing!' Hermione told him, grumpy about being ordered about. 'I'm just finishing up her second letter...nothing yet.'

They read the rest of Luna's letters, but to Harry's immense frustration, none of them mentioned the symbol again.

'We need to figure out what this is all about,' said Harry darkly. 'It might be the clue we've been looking for.'

'So we're not going to Turkey?' asked Ron, looking very pleased at the prospect of avoiding a plane trip.

'No...but we need to go to Durmstrang, and I have no idea how to get there.'

Ron's eyes bugged out. 'Are you mad? No one even knows where Durmstrang is! It's Unplottable - and it's full of Dark wizards!'

'That's not true!' Hermione objected with vigour. 'Viktor wasn't -'

'Hang Viktor already!' Ron grumbled loudly. Harry flinched at the mad look on Hermione's face, but Ron pressed on. 'Luna says it right here in print - they teach Dark magic! Dark wizards, the lot of them! And we can't get there anyway!'

'Oh yes we can!' shouted Hermione with determination. She scowled at Ron furiously. 'I'll ask Viktor to help! We still write sometimes, you know!'

She stormed out of the room. 'Hermione!' Ron yelled.

But she didn't come back.

'Bloody Viktor bloody Krum,' muttered Ron. He jabbed at the map with a quill until he broke through the parchment.

Harry stayed quiet. He was, somewhat guiltily, glad that Hermione and Ron had fought. If Hermione hadn't been so distracted by defending Viktor Krum, she might have questioned Harry's wisdom, pouncing on such a small clue.

He knew, intellectually, that it was a long shot, but his heart was set on finding something concrete, not chasing around purported Ravenclaw's hearts for months when they were all likely fakes and they didn't even know if Ravenclaw's heart was a Horcrux at all. At least they were certain that Voldemort knew this symbol and considered it very important; at worst, Harry would learn something critical about his enemy.

On the other hand, judging by the look on Ron's face, if Viktor Krum ended up taking them to Durmstrang, it was going to be a long trip...