Something Better Than This

Chapter 5: Breakfast

After dreaming about Voldemort, or rather as Voldemort, for the first time in well over a year, Harry didn't really feel like going back to sleep. So despite how late they'd all come back the night before, he was up before anyone else. Ron still seemed to be asleep, from which Harry concluded that he hadn't actually been yelling this time, so he lay still and stared at the ceiling and listened to Ron breathe and tried not to think very much until it was four o'clock and he could at least pretend it was morning.

He got up and dressed very quietly, without any lights. Some of his oldest clothes almost fit by now, since even Dudley had only succeeded in being as broad at any given time as a boy several years older than himself.

Harry took the items they'd found in Godric's Hollow out of the pockets of yesterday's clothing, working the last few splinters out where they had pierced the fabric. He took them all downstairs and spread them out on the kitchen table, then sat and stared at them for a while.

His mother's wand was smooth under his hand. His father's wand was all in long jagged fragments. One of them seemed to have a string of some sort stuck to it -- maybe that had been the core.

Harry stood up and pointed his own wand at it. "Reparo!"

At first he didn't think it had worked, but then the string straightened itself out and the other pieces began clumping together and aligning themselves along it. Some bits still seemed to be missing, though; Harry could still see cracks and gaps, and when he gingerly picked up the wand, a few small bits fell off. Still, it was something.

He chewed his lip for a while, trying to remember the incantation Amos Diggory had used at the Quidditch World Cup and then trying to decide whether it was really a good idea, before touching his own wand gingerly to his mother's and whispering, "Prior Incantato."

A pale purple beam shot out from the tip, looking livid and angry; Harry jumped aside as it passed through him with a sharp buzzing sensation, but the beam had no other apparent effect. It was only the ghost of a spell, after all. Granted it left him little wiser what it had been, but he guessed his mother must have tried to cast some curse against Voldemort before they started arguing.

Not that it had been a very long argument.

He wondered why Voldemort had offered to let her live. He couldn't have thought she'd join him, could he? Would he even have taken her? Half-bloods, yes, apparently, but a Muggle-born? Maybe it would have been a trick.

He'll take me to pieces in the end, take all of us.

Maybe he'd had worse in mind if she'd given in.

Harry wrenched his mind away from thoughts of Pettigrew and eyed the key. It didn't seem likely to tell him anything -- Dumbledore had said there was only one known heirloom of Godric Gryffindor's, but if Voldemort had thought this was one too, then he'd probably brought it to be his final Horcrux. It probably wasn't, since if Voldemort had meant to make his last Horcrux from Harry's death, he wouldn't have had any reason to change his mind until it was too late. Which meant the key was probably useless... except that for some reason Voldemort had wanted it again, and that was reason enough not to let him have it. Unless, perhaps, that dream last night hadn't been carelessness on Voldemort's part. He'd certainly seemed surprised, though.

Harry sighed and looked out at the pre-dawn light, listening to the faint sound of the chickens beginning to gabble outside. He kept waiting to hear a rooster crow, but apparently the Weasleys had lazy roosters. He wasn't getting anywhere this way. Maybe if he talked to Ron and Hermione. Maybe Lupin. He wished he could still talk to Sirius. This might have interested him, cheered him up....

He wished he could still talk to Dumbledore.

He heaved another sigh, got up from the table, and started making breakfast. Mrs. Weasley would probably be down before very much longer, but he did know how to cook -- poor cooking was not one of Aunt Petunia's flaws and she hadn't tolerated it when she made him help her in the kitchen -- and he didn't think Mrs. Weasley would mind a little help. Not from him, anyway. He'd just make enough for the first few people down; that way nothing would be wasted.

Harry was only on the third fried egg, having stopped to eat the first one, when a soft pop made him turn around. He wasn't expecting the twins, who would have been much louder, but he definitely wasn't expecting Percy.

They blinked at each other for a moment. Percy looked rather dazed, possibly because it was before five o'clock in the morning and he'd just Apparated into his mother's kitchen to find someone who was not a relative.

Harry shrugged and picked up a plate. "Egg?"

Percy stared at it. "It looks like one."

"You're not awake yet, are you? Funny, I always sort of thought you'd be a morning person."

Percy evidently processed the extended plate of egg as an offer and accepted it, collapsing into a chair at the table and looking curiously at the key and two wands. "Still awake. Worked all night. What are those?"

Harry came around to whisk them hastily off the table and back into his pockets, wincing a little as he felt the repair job on his father's wand crumble. "Just some stuff."

"Oh." Percy stared at his egg.

Harry started some more bacon. "Why were you working all night?" he asked casually. He felt very much awake, himself. "Something going on?"

"Isn't something always?" Percy took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "Death Eaters in a Muggle area.... We think they were specifically targeting the family of a Muggle-born student, but as far as we can tell no one was home. On holiday, perhaps. Three of the neighbors are in St. Mungo's for spell damage and the rest have been interviewed and Obliviated. Minister Scrimgeour called me in to handle paperwork on the matter, especially the writeups to be released to the press." He looked up. "You might be pleased about one thing, anyway. Stan Shunpike's loose and, er, officially said to be cleared. They needed the space to keep all the Death Eater captives separate."

"I'm sure Stan's in great shape, too, after over a year in Azkaban."

"It's not as bad without the Dementors."

"Some comfort."

Percy sighed. "They're holding Goyle on your word alone, you know. He wasn't at the Department of Mysteries last year or Hogwarts this year, and none of the other Death Eaters have testified against him."

"That's more than they had on Stan," Harry said, "once they knew he'd been talking nonsense. Here's your bacon. What student?"

"Pardon?"

"What Muggle-born student's family were they attacking?" Harry asked patiently, turning back to crack more eggs. And make toast. There ought to be toast.

Percy poked at his plate. "The Clearwaters."

Harry took a moment to place that name, but Percy's gloomy tone helped him connect it to the girl Percy had been going out with, who'd been Petrified with Hermione. "Oh." He stood very still for a moment. "Er, were -- are -- you and Penelope still --"

"We haven't been in touch lately. We were both... very busy with work. She was still living with her parents, didn't want to get a separate flat. That was the last thing we talked about." Quietly, "I don't even know what she thought about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Well, I doubt she's happy about it," said Harry. "Look, if the Death Eaters were caught and it doesn't look like anybody was home, she's probably all right, right?"

"Maybe." Percy's mouth looked very thin.

Harry sighed. "Do you want another egg?"

"No, thanks." Percy looked up at him again, puzzled. "Why are you cooking breakfast?"

Harry shrugged. "I was up."

Percy found nothing to argue with in this, and they gave up talking until Mrs. Weasley came into the kitchen and stopped, looking between them. "Percy! Harry...." She trailed off. "Good morning. Harry, why on earth are you cooking breakfast? You don't need to do that. Here, let me--"

Harry retreated gracefully from the stovetop and associated implements, although everything currently on was about ready, and watched Mrs. Weasley discover this fact and start dishing out the eggs. "I woke up early, that's all." For effect, he faked a yawn, which turned real halfway through and was therefore reasonably convincing. "Why don't you go ahead and eat? I don't think there's any rush...."

Mrs. Weasley hesitated over this for a moment, but it was true that there was plenty of food ready to start off the next person or two who came looking for it. She settled down with a plate across from Percy. "Aren't you sweet," she said. "Percy used to start breakfast for me some mornings, too.... I couldn't trust most of the others alone in the kitchen, so they didn't dare. He was the only one after Bill who never got the eggs on the ceiling."

Harry muffled a snort of laughter. Aunt Petunia would have killed him for getting eggs on the ceiling. "I've heard of being able to eat off the floor, but the ceiling would have to be tricky." He eyed them for a moment. "If you don't want me to fix anything more...."

"You needn't; I'll take care of it," Mrs. Weasley hastened to assure him.

"Then I think I'll go back up to Ron's room. See if he's awake." Harry thought this was very unlikely, but he slipped back up the stairs anyway and left Percy alone with his mother.

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It was afternoon by the time he managed to get Ron and Hermione off by themselves. They sat outside under a tree and nibbled ginger biscuits under the dappled leaf-shadows until Hermione finally broke the silence by blurting, "Were you really going to kill Pettigrew?"

Harry dropped his biscuit, then dusted it off and ate it anyway. "Was Crookshanks?" He shook his head at once. "Sorry. I -- I don't know." He didn't meet their eyes. "I thought I meant it for a minute. But I couldn't do it."

"He might deserve it, mate," Ron said quietly, "but I don't think you deserve to have to do it. And it's not like he's You-Kn-- sorry. Voldemort."

"No, he isn't," Harry said moodily. "But he led him right to my parents." He tossed the key up into the air once and caught it. "I didn't realize it at first, just from his saying Voldemort had brought this with him. But he did. He was there."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said softly.

"I dreamed about them last night." Harry shut his eyes and rubbed at the scar on his forehead. "I hadn't dreamed about Voldemort -- I mean, dreamed I was Voldemort, through his eyes -- for a long time. Dumbledore... Dumbledore said Voldemort was probably using Occlumency himself, after what happened at the Ministry. I suppose he must have forgotten tonight, or something. When he noticed I was there, he shut me out. But he was torturing Pettigrew for not bringing back the key. And Snape was there, and he told Snape he should have let him come with him instead."

When he opened his eyes, Hermione was frowning, but not at him. "And yet he gave you the key...."

Harry swallowed, feeling a little sick at the reminder that he'd demanded the key and then sent Pettigrew -- well, let him get away -- to Voldemort, knowing he'd be punished. "And talked about Voldemort taking them all to pieces...." He trailed off, staring at the leaves as they moved in the breeze. "It's hard to make him meet your eyes," he said slowly. "I wonder if Voldemort knows... I watched him lie, and I don't think Voldemort used Legilimency to check. At least, not while I was watching. He might not know I've got this."

"He's sent false visions before," Hermione said.

Harry winced. "He felt surprised this time, though. And he really did seem angry. I don't think Dumbledore thought all the dreams were on purpose -- not the ones like this. Just the ones where he was looking for the door, or about Sirius."

Hermione frowned, but rather to his surprise, she dropped it. "What did Pettigrew lie about, exactly?" she asked.

"Oh. He said he never found the key. He didn't mention us." Harry went on to tell them the whole dream, careful not to omit anything. He rubbed the key between his fingers. "Dumbledore told me Gryffindor had only left the sword, but I suppose Voldemort could have found something else... or thought he did."

Hermione blinked at him. "What about the Sorting Hat?"

"What about it?"

"It said that Godric used to wear it," Hermione said patiently. "I mentioned that on the train."

Harry sat back on his heels, rattled. So it had. "It was sitting right there in his office when he said that, too," he said. "And the sword came out of it. At least, the first I saw of it.... The Hat dropped it on my head in the Chamber of Secrets."

"Ouch," said Ron. "Well, maybe he was counting the Sorting Hat and the sword together, then. Or reckoned the Hat went with all four of them."

"Voldemort was in Dumbledore's office once," Harry said uneasily. "With the Sorting Hat, and I suppose the sword inside it. I hope that doesn't mean it wasn't safe."

"Surely Professor Dumbledore would have noticed if there was a Horcrux right in his own office," Hermione objected. "Or anywhere in Hogwarts!"

"I'm not so sure about anywhere in Hogwarts," Ron said. "There've been a few things he missed there. Wish he hadn't. Still, if he could track down where one was supposed to be and wasn't, I doubt he'd miss one that was really right under his nose. Still doesn't explain the key, though."

"I don't know if it matters whether the key was really Gryffindor's or not," Harry said slowly. "If Voldemort thought it was, and couldn't get at the sword or the Sorting Hat, he'd use it anyway."

"Gryffindor could've put enchantments on it, though," Ron pointed out. "Maybe it would have let him into Hogwarts."

"You'd think he would have gone looking for it sooner, then," Harry muttered. "Well... better keep it safe, anyway."

"Does that mean with you, or in Gringott's?" Hermione asked.

Harry weighed it in his hand and then pocketed it. "Maybe it would be safer in Gringott's," he said. "But I meant with me."

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