He lay back on his pillows and looked into her pinched gray face.

"We shouldn't have gone to Godric's Hollow. It's my fault, it's all my fault. Hermione, I'm

sorry."

"It's not you fault. I wanted to go too; I really thought Dumbledore might have left the

sword there for you."

"Yeah, well ... we got that wrong, didn't we?"

"What happened, Harry? What happened when she took you upstairs? Was the snake

hiding somewhere? Did it just come out and kill her and attack you?"

"No." he said. "She was the snake ... or the snake was her ... all along."

"W-what?"

He closed his eyes. He could still smell Bathilda's house on him; it made the whole thing

Horribly vivid.

"Bathilda must've been dead a while. The snake was ... was inside her. You-Know-Who

put it there in Godric's Hollow, to wait. You were right. He knew I'd go back."

"The snake was inside her?"

He opened his eyes again. Hermione looked revolted, nauseated.

"Lupin said there would be magic we'd never imagined." Harry said. "She didn't want to

talk in front of you, because it was Parseltongue, all Parseltongue, and I didn't realize,

But of course I could understand her. Once we were up in the room, the snake sent a

Message to You-Know-Who, I heard it happen inside my head, I felt him get excited, he

said to keep me there ... and then ..."

He remembered the snake coming out of Bathilda's neck: Hermione did not need to know

The details.

"...she changed, changed into the snake, and attacked."

He looked down at the puncture marks.

"It wasn't supposed to kill me, just keep me there till You-Know-Who came."

If he had only managed to kill the snake, it would have been worth it, all of it ... Sick at

Heart, he sat up and threw back the covers.

"Harry, no, I'm sure you ought to rest!"

"You're the one who needs sleep. No offense, but you look terrible. I'm fine. I'll keep

watch for a while. Where's my wand?"

She did not answer, she merely looked at him.

"Where's my wand, Hermione?"

She was biting her lip, and tears swam in her eyes.

"Harry ..."

"Where's my wand?"

She reached down beside the bed and held it out to him.

The holly and phoenix wand was nearly severed in two. One fragile strand of phoenix

Feather kept both pieces hanging together. The wood had splintered apart completely.

Harry took it into his hands as though it was a living thing that had suffered a terrible

injury. He could not think properly: Everything was a blur of panic and fear. Then he

Held out the want to Hermione.

"Mend it. Please."

"Harry, I don't think, when it's broken like this --"

"Please, Hermione, try!"

"R-Reparo."

The dangling half of the wand resealed itself. Harry held it up.

"Lumos!"

The wand sparked feebly, then went out. Harry pointed it at Hermione.

"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione's wand gave a little jerk, but did not leave her hand. The feeble attempt at

magic was too much for Harry's wand, which split into two again. He stared at it, aghast,

Unable to take in what he was seeing ... the wand that had survived so much ...

"Harry." Hermione whispered so quietly he could hardly hear her. "I'm so, so sorry. I

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 775