Hermione glanced around.

“Did you make all this mess, or was some of it done when you got here?”

“Someone had searched before me,” said Harry.

“I thought so. Every room I looked into on the way up had been disturbed. What

were they after, do you think?”

“Information on the Order, if it was Snape.”

“But you’d think he’d already have all he needed. I mean was in the Order, wasn’t

he?”

“Well then,” said Harry, keen to discuss his theory, “what about information on

Dumbledore? The second page of the letter, for instance. You know this Bathilda my

mum mentions, you know who she is?”

“Who?”

“Bathilda Bagshot, the author of –“

“A History of Magic,” said Hermione, looking interested. “So your parents knew

her? She was an incredible magic historian.”

“And she’s still alive,” said Harry, “and she lives in Godric’s Hollow. Ron’s

Auntie Muriel was talking about her at the wedding. She knew Dumbledore’s family too.

Be pretty interesting to talk to, wouldn’t she?” There was a little too much understanding

in the smile Hermione gave him for Harry’s liking. He took back the letter and the

Photograph and tucked them inside the pouch around his neck, so as not to have to look at

her and give himself away. “I understand why you’d love to talk to her about your mum

and dad, and Dumbledore too,” said Hermione. “But that wouldn’t really help us in our

search for the Horcruxes, would it?” Harry did not answer, and she rushed on, “Harry, I

know you really want to go to Godric’s Hollow, but I’m scared. I’m scared at how easily

Those Death Eaters found us yesterday. It just makes me feel more than ever that we

ought to avoid the place where your parents are buried, I’m sure they’d be expecting you

to visit it.”

“It’s not just that,” Harry said, still avoiding looking at her, “Muriel said stuff

about Dumbledore at the wedding. I want to know the truth…”

He told Hermione everything that Muriel had told him. When he had finished,

Hermione said, “Of course, I can see why that’s upset you, Harry –“

“I’m not upset,” he lied, “I’d just like to know whether or not it’s true or –“

“Harry do you really think you’ll get the truth from a malicious old woman like

Muriel, or from Rita Skeeter? How can you believe them? You knew Dumbledore!”

“I thought I did,” he muttered.

“But you know how much truth there was in everything Rita wrote about you!

Doge is right, how can you let these people tarnish your memories of Dumbledore?”

He looked away, trying not to betray the resentment he felt. There it was again:

Choose what to believe. He wanted the truth. Why was everybody so determined that he

should not get it?

“Shall we go down to the kitchen?” Hermione suggested after a little pause. “Find

something for breakfast?”

He agreed, but grudgingly, and followed her out onto the landing and past the

Second door that led off it. There were deep scratch marks in the paintwork below a small

Sign that he had not noticed in the dark. He passed at the top of the stairs to read it. It was

A pompous little sign, neatly lettered by hand the sort of thing that Percy Weasley might

Have stuck on his bedroom door.

Do Not Enter

Without the Express Permission of

Regulus Arcturus Black

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 834