Hermione walked slowly towards where Harry sat in the kitchen, her expression grim and his face set. Slowly she lowered herself into a seat across from him, and she set her closed fist upon the table. Her hand slid across to him; he heard the distinct metallic click of a necklace, and the sound seemed to reverberate accusingly through the room. "It isn't a Horcrux," she told him simply. "I was wrong."
Harry felt his shoulders droop in relief as he snaked out his hand to take it from her. The warm weight of the lily dropped onto his palm, and he quickly returned it to his neck. "So what now?"
"Now we figure out what 'symbolism' he was referring to," Hermione said. "It could be a possession that belonged to another Lily, or perhaps a lily-shaped object itself; it might also be a red-head or another Muggle-born. Symbolism, however, is usually representative of an image or an item. I doubt very much that Voldemort would have used the word incorrectly, so I am going to go on the supposition that he was referring to a 'lily' of some sort."
He stared blankly at her and tried to wade through what Hermione had just told him. When it came down to it, however, the key was the flower... at least he thought it was. "Huh?"
Hermione smiled gently and patted his hand. "We're looking for another lily, and I think we'll probably find it once belonged to one of the four founders."
"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Harry teased as he got up and stretched. "Where's Ron?"
"Packing," she answered as she went to rummage for food. "We're leaving again."
He nodded and walked to the door, wanting a bit of fresh air. "Do you think we can stop in and see Neville before we go?"
"No, and Harry," Hermione's voice was slightly raised. "You can't go outside of the house. It isn't safe."
"Right," he muttered, taking his hand from the doorknob. "I'll just go and pack then."
"Mrs. Weasley promised to look in on Neville today," she reminded him. "I'm sure she'll be back soon."
He grumbled under his breath and sat back down. "Where are we going, anyway?"
"Back to Hogwarts, I'm afraid," she said with an apologetic smile. "I need to spend some more time in the library."
"Didn't anything Tonks gave you when we went to the Ministry help?" Harry asked while staring out the window, noting that it looked like it might snow soon.
Hermione shook her head sadly. "It talked about the founders' lives, but it wasn't anything that I hadn't learned before. We'll just have to read everything in the library at the school and hope we come across something." For once in her life, however, Hermione did not seem pleased at the prospect of weeks spent in the library, being allowed to read constantly.
Harry wasn't pleased about it either, for that matter. "Can't we try another library?"
"I don't think so," she answered slowly. "It might be that a private collector would have the kind of information that we're looking for, but private collectors are notoriously stingy about letting anyone look at their books, never mind three teenagers."
Harry scratched absently at his ear as he studied her. "You know, with all the trouble we've run into with libraries, I think I should set one up after this is over." If we make it out, he added silently.
Hermione let out a loud squeal and threw herself into his lap, nearly toppling over the chair. She held on tight and planted a huge kiss on his cheek. "That is a brilliant idea! I'll help if you want, of course!"
He laughed and patted her shoulder. "I'd need your help. It isn't like I can actually run a library."
Her eyes gleamed happily, and she stood and began to pace, her expression awed. He could see that she was already plotting how to make it work. "Oh, but it will take a lot of gold."
"I'll ask Remus to pawn everything else from Grimmauld Place," Harry told her. "Sirius would have taken the mickey out of me for using all of that money on a library, but I think he would have approved in the end."
Hermione just beamed at him. "Thank you."
He shrugged, embarrassed, and stood. "I'll Floo him and then get packed."
After placing a call to Remus, asking him to visit that day, Harry went up to his room and packed his belongings. Ron wandered in as he drew the pack closed. "You all set, mate?"
"Yeah," Harry said as he snapped it shut. "So are you and Hermione done fighting?"
Ron snorted. "Not bloody likely. That woman is going to be the death of me, but...."
Harry looked over his shoulder and saw that Ron was grinning sheepishly at him. "But?"
Ron waved a hand absently. "Well, it's not really a bad way to go."
Harry chuckled as he nodded. "No, I suppose not."
"Besides, I was being stupid," Ron admitted as he flopped onto Harry's bed. "I know we need her in the fight, and in many ways she's better at fighting than either of us. She at least knows all those spells that we don't."
"Right," Harry agreed, not wanting to completely commit for fear of setting Ron off. "Well, yeah, she's brilliant."
"'Course, Ginny's different," Ron said conversationally as Harry's head whipped up. "I mean, she's only sixteen, and she'd have only slowed us down."
Harry's wand was out of his pocket before he could even think of what he was doing. Ron simply laughed, and Harry lowered his wand in confusion. "What are you on about? Ginny could kick your arse any day in a duel."
Ron nodded resignedly. "Yeah, and that's what Hermione reminded me of yesterday. I'm here, even though Ginny's hexed more people than I have, but she was left behind."
"I know what you're trying to do," Harry growled as he turned away to look under his bed, checking for any other belongings.
Ron stood up and walked to the door. "I'm not trying to do anything," he retorted. "I think it was wise to leave Ginny behind since I know it's how you'd want to be treated, if the situations were reversed."
Harry rose quickly and knocked his head on the underside of the bed. Swearing loudly, he crawled out and glared up at him. "Did Hermione tell you to tell me this?"
"Nope," Ron answered as he twisted the doorknob. "She did tell me the same thing this morning when I was being a prat about her coming with us, though. I reckon she's probably smart enough to know what she's talking about."
Harry just shook his head, deciding to change the subject. "Is Remus here yet?"
"Yeah, Mum's giving him tea and biscuits," Ron said as he left.
Harry followed, hefting his bag onto his shoulder. "Did Hermione tell you what I'm going to do after we finish him off?"
"Yeah," Ron replied in indignation. "You could buy a Quidditch team, but no, instead you're going to feed her nutty addiction for books."
Harry laughed as he tromped behind him, down the stairs. "It will keep her occupied, though."
"True," Ron mumbled as they entered the kitchen. Harry dumped his stuff and sat next to Ron, reaching over for a small handful of the biscuits as they greeted a tired looking Remus.
"So," Remus began. "What's this task you've got for me?"
Harry popped one into his mouth and chewed quickly. "We need all of the things from Grimmauld Place pawned off and the money put into an account that Hermione has access to."
Hermione blushed and looked down into her teacup as Mrs. Weasley gaped at him. "Harry?"
"It's to start a library, and Hermione's offered to help," Harry answered, trying to hide his amusement. He ignored the fact that he was making plans in case he didn't survive the ordeal. That detail could be examined another day. He turned back to Remus. "So where can we unload all of this stuff?"
Remus studied him thoughtfully. "Actually, it's a man in Wales that has a small shop.... I took the things to him and also bought the Pensieve in his store. He's a fascinating man although I suspect that he might be older than Merlin himself."
Harry and Ron laughed while Hermione looked intrigued. "What else does he sell?"
"Odds and ends, mostly," Remus said as he took a sip of tea. "Antiques and rare magical objects, like Pensieves."
"Where is this shop?" Hermione asked, and Remus explained it to her.
Harry looked at Mrs. Weasley, who was bustling about the small kitchen. "Did you get to see Neville today?"
Mrs. Weasley set a mug down for herself and sat beside him. "Yes, and he is still unconscious although the Healers are hopeful that he'll make a full recovery."
Harry nodded dumbly, unsure of what to ask. "Do they know when he'll wake up?"
She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, dear, they just don't know. He received a nasty bump to his head, and he inhaled a lot of the smoke. They keep saying that it will just take time for his body to heal."
"All right," he acknowledged slowly and then tried to think of how to ask his next question. Fortunately, Mrs. Weasley seemed to know what he was going to ask before he did.
"I'll keep checking in on him, poor lamb," she promised as she patted his hand gently. "Luna has been to St. Mungo's a few times, or so the Healers told me. Such a nice girl."
"Yeah," Harry said. "She's a good friend."
"Harry?" Hermione interrupted. "We need to get going."
"Oh," Mrs. Weasley stood and went for a large hamper. "Let me pack a small snack for your lunch."
"Before you go," Remus interrupted as Mrs. Weasley bustled away. "I'm very curious about those questions you asked when we were at the Ministry."
"Oh." Hermione looked surprised. "Well, I really just wanted information about the founders, but I needed to make it look like I might be interested in something else."
Remus chuckled appreciatively. "I suppose you succeeded then."
Ten minutes later they Apparated to Wales to locate a man named Nick. Hermione, clearly following the directions from memory, led them down several side streets of a small village until they reached a particularly odd looking shop. Papers scattered the windows, and a mix-match of objects lined the display cases.
When she pulled open the door a bell jingled merrily above them. An old man, slightly hunched over, came out from the back to greet them. Harry had to agree with Remus. Nick really did appear to be older than dirt. He smiled toothily at them, a twinkle in his eye that was so reminiscent of Dumbledore that it caught Harry's breath, and asked, "How can I help you?"
"Remus Lupin sent us here," Hermione told him simply. "I have some questions about the Hogwarts founders, and he said you were an expert."
"Ah," he replied in a deep voice, understanding crossing over his face. "Yes, well let me close up, and we'll have a spot of tea."
He settled them into a group of shabby, but comfortable, chairs around a small table as he conjured up a pot of tea and several cups. "So what do you want to know about the founders?"
"Actually." Hermione licked her lips. "I really just have questions about Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. The sword is the only remaining artifact from Gryffindor, is it not?"
"That is correct," he assured her as he poured the tea. "He had a vile grandson who thought it would be prudent to light himself, and his whole house, on fire. Fire," he told Hermione with a wink, "is only good for killing people and destroying non-metal objects. It's also an effective method for silencing those whom you don't want to speak."
The three friends stared in horror at him as the memories of what had happened recently to Neville flooded back. Hermione's eyes began to leak, and Ron grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze.
"Sorry," Harry muttered. "We nearly lost a friend in a fire."
Nick nodded in understanding. "I read about it in the paper, and I won't beat around the bush. Someone didn't want the Longbottoms to survive. Fortunately you two were there," he added, looking between Harry and Ron. They both gaped at him in surprise for a moment, but decided that this man, who was likely around during the time of Christ, probably knew a lot more than they would ever understand. "So, what questions do you have about Rowena? I admit, I have a bit of a soft spot for her."
Hermione sniffed and composed herself quickly. "I've been curious about Ravenclaw and why nothing of hers has ever shown up. I know that over the centuries things could have been misplaced, but it seems that at least one thing of hers could have made it."
The man steeped his fingers and studied her intently. "What do you know about her?"
Hermione shifted a bit and began to list off the facts that they'd learned from the biography that they'd borrowed from Binns. "Then I got a few pamphlets from the Ministry, and it said that she was from Scotland and that she prided herself on being clever."
Nick smiled fondly. "Ah the Ministry... trust them to have it all wrong."
"What?" all three of them asked together.
"Oh yes," he said with amusement. "Rowena happened to be a beauty beyond compare, and she was from Ireland, not Scotland."
Hermione gawked at him. "You're kidding!"
He shook his head and took a sip of tea before sitting back in his chair. "She was brilliant in many subjects but particularly Ancient Runes and Potions, and I have it on good authority that she and Gryffindor had a secret affair for many years."
"Seriously?" Ron said with a mixture of awe and amusement.
"So," Hermione asked quickly, "could something of hers have survived?"
Nick raised one bushy eyebrow and nodded. "Something did survive, yes, although it disappeared nearly twenty years ago."
"What was it?" Harry questioned instantly, sitting up straighter. His chair creaked ominously beneath him, but he ignored it.
He took a deep breath that rattled through him. "It was a pendant. She used to wear it on special occasions."
Hermione's mouth dropped open. "What... does anyone know what she looked like? I mean, being from Ireland I could guess but...."
"Red hair, green eyes, very fair skin," Nick told her, and Harry's heart began to hammer.
"What... what was the--"
A loud screech at the window interrupted them, and Nick hopped up, belying his age, and opened the window to admit a gray owl. "What have you got for me, Archimedes?"
The owl dropped a small scroll into his hands and flew over to a perch while Nick latched the window and came back to his seat. They waited silently while he unrolled it and read quickly over it. He finished it and sighed before rolling it again and stowing it in his shirt pocket. "The Minister was assassinated about an hour ago."
Harry, Ron and Hermione gasped. "What happened?"
"Voldemort got him," Nick explained, and Harry briefly wondered at the fact that this man did not fear the name. Then again, he was so old that death probably didn't seem that bad of a thing.
After a moment of shock, Harry blurted out, "Who was that scroll from?"
"Alastor Moody," the old man answered. "He was called in to protect the Minister, but when Voldemort wants you... well, not many can live to tell that tale." His eyes rested briefly on Harry before he picked up the teapot and refilled their cups. "Nothing we can do about it now, and you're safe here. Ask your next question."
"I...." Hermione seemed to still be in shock. "How do you know so much about Ravenclaw?"
Nick chuckled, but it was tinged with a hint of sadness. "I've spent many years researching her. I spent a good fifty years just learning all I could about her."
"Yes, but there aren't that many sources to go on," Hermione argued instantly. "Where did you get this kind of information, and is it reliable?"
Instead of being affronted, as Harry thought he might be, the man nodded approving at Hermione. "Those are the right questions to ask, and yes, my information is as reliable as one can reasonably expect from a first hand source."
Hermione gasped in surprise. "Where did you get that?"
He smiled kindly. "Really, my dear, I'm surprised you didn't think of it before. I questioned the Sorting Hat, of course."
Ron burst out laughing, and Harry felt as if he had been hit with a hammer. The answer to so many questions was sitting up in the Head's office, and he'd never thought to ask. But.... "Did Dumbledore know about this?"
"I don't know that he did, no," Nick said after thinking it over. "Of course, I questioned the hat well before his time at Hogwarts, and the hat isn't exactly what one would call talkative. If you don't ask it a specific question, it won't give a specific answer."
"Is that how you learned about the pendant?" Hermione was practically bouncing in her seat at this point.
He shook his head. "No, I learned about its existence from a badly damaged painting of her. I saw the flower pendant there and then traveled to Hogwarts to speak with the hat."
"Flower?" Hermione asked weakly.
He grinned and got up from his chair to pace the floor. "Yes, a lily in fact." He said this while looking at Harry. "The first time I met your mother I thought it was quite remarkable how similar those two women looked, even separating thousands of years."
Harry felt his throat close up. This pendant had to be it.... There was no other explanation for what he'd seen in the Pensieve, but how would they be sure? "Did Dumbledore know about the lily pendant?"
"I," here Nick hesitated. "No, I did not tell him about it, nor did he ask me about her until recently when the pendant had been long gone."
"Who stole it?" Ron said as he reached for his teacup.
"I believe it was Voldemort," Nick told him, and Ron choked on his tea, spewing a bit of it all over the table.
Hermione got out her wand and instantly cleared up the mess. "But you didn't tell Dumbledore?"
"He wrote to me and asked to meet with me in July, but then he died." Nick's lined face showed a sadness that told Harry everything about this man. He was obviously fond of Dumbledore and missed him. "I was going to give him the painting of Ravenclaw, which I managed to acquire a number of years ago."
"Where did you find it?" Hermione's ever-present curiosity was still compelling her to ask more questions.
Nick grinned mischievously and headed for the back door. "I dug it up from the burned-out ruins of Gryffindor's house."
