Think the scratches on the stone were a coat of arms, because as far as he was concerned,

having pure blood made you practically royal.”

“Yes…and that’s all very interesting,” said Hermione cautiously, “but Harry, if

you’re thinking what I think you’re think ---“

“Well, why not? Why not? said Harry, abandoning caution. “It was a stone,

wasn’t it?” He looked at Ron for support. “What if it was the Resurrection Stone?”

Ron’s mouth fell open.

“Blimey --- but would it still work if Dumbledore broke --- ?”

“Work? Work? Ron, it never worked! There’s no such thing as a Resurrection

Stone!”

Hermione leapt to her feet, looking exasperated and angry. Harry you’re trying to

fit everything into the Hallows story ---“

“Fit everything in?” he repeated. “Hermione, it fits of its own accord! I know the

sign of the Deathly Hallows was on that stone! Gaunt said he was descended from the

Peverells!”

“A minute ago you told us you never saw the mark on the stone properly!”

“Where’d you reckon the ring is now?” Ron asked Harry. “What did Dumbledore

do with it after he broke it open?”

“But Harry’s imagination was racing ahead, far beyond Ron and Hermione’s…

Three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of

Death…Master…Conqueror…Vanquisher…The last enemy that shall be destroyed is

death…

And he saw himself, possessor of the Hallows, facing Voldemort, whose

Horcruxes were no match…Neither can live while the other survives…Was this the

answer? Hallows versus Horcruxes? Was there a way after all, to ensure that he was the

one who triumphed? If he were the master of the Deathly Hallows, would he be safe?

“Harry?”

But he scarcely heard Hermione: He had pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and was

Running it through his fingers, the cloth supple as water, light as air. He had never seen

Anything to equal it in his nearly seven years in the Wizarding world. The Cloak was

exactly what Xenophilius had described: A cloak that really and truly renders the wearer

Completely invisible, and endures eternally, giving constant and impenetrable

concealment, no matter what spells are cast at it…

And then, with a gasp, he remembered—

“Dumbledore had my Cloak the night my parents died!”

His voice shook and he could feel the color in his face, but he did not care.

“My mum told Sirius that Dumbledore borrowed the Cloak! This is why! He

wanted to examine it, because he thought it was the third Hallow! Ignotus Peverell is

buried in Godric’s Hollow…” Harry was walking blindly around the tent, feeling as

though great new vistas of truth were opening all around him. “He’s my ancestor. I’m

descended from the third brother! It all makes sense!”

“He felt armed in certainty, in his belief in the Hallows, as if the mere idea of

Possessing them was giving him protection, and he felt joyous as he turned back to the

Other two.

“Harry,” said Hermione again, but he was busy undoing the pouch around his

Neck, his fingers shaking hard.

“Read it,” he told her, pushing his mother’s letter into her hand. “Read it!

Dumbledore had the Cloak, Hermione! Why else would he want it? He didn’t need a

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 717