Magical families, who banded together for mutual support and protection. The villages of

Tinworsh in Cornwall, Upper Flagley in Yorkshire, and Ottery St. Catchpole on the south

Coast of England were notable homes to knots of Wizarding families who lived alongside

Tolerant and sometimes Confunded Muggles. Most celebrated of these half-magical

dwelling places is, perhaps, Godric’s Hollow, the West Country village where the great

Wizard Godric Gryffindor was born, and where Bowman Wright, Wizarding smith, forged

The first Golden Snitch. The graveyard is full of the names of ancient magical families,

And this accounts, no doubt, for the stories of hauntings that have dogged the little

church beside it for many centuries.’

“You and your parents aren’t mentioned.” Hermione said, closing the book,

“because Professor Bagshot doesn’t cover anything later than the end of the nineteenth

century. But you see? Godric’s Hollow, Godric Gryffindor, Gryffindor’s sword; don’t

you think Dumbledore would have expected you to make the connection?”

“Oh yeah . . .”

Harry did not want to admit that he had not been thinking about the sword at all

when he suggested they go to Godric’s Hollow. For him, the lore of the village lay in his

parents’ graves, the house where he had narrowly escaped death, and in the person of

Bathilda Bagshot.

“Remember what Muriel said?” he asked eventually.

“Who?”

“You know,” he hesitated. He did not want to say Ron’s name. “Ginny’s greataunt.

At the wedding. The one who said you had skinny ankles.”

“Oh,” said Hermione. It was a sticky moment: Harry knew that she had sensed

Ron’s name in the offing. He rushed on:

“She said Bathilda Bagshot still lived in Godric’s Hollow.”

“Bathilda Bagshot,” murmured Hermione, running her index finger over

Bathilda’s embossed name on the front cover of A History of Magic. “Well, I suppose –“

She gasped so dramatically that Harry’s insides turned over; he drew his wand,

Looking around at the entrance, half expecting to see a hand forcing its way through the

Entrance flap, but there was nothing there.

“What?” he said, half angry, half relieved. “What did you do that for? I thought

you’d seen a Death Eater unzipping the tent, at least –“

“Harry, what if Bathilda’s got the sword? What if Dumbledore entrusted it to

her?”

Harry considered this possibility. Bathilda would be an extremely old woman by

now, and according to Muriel, she was “gaga.” Was it likely that Dumbledore would

have hidden the sword of Gryffindor with her? If so, Harry felt that Dumbledore had left

a great deal to chance: Dumbledore had never revealed that he had replaced the sword

With a fake, nor had he so much as mentioned a friendship with Bathilda. Now, however,

was not the moment to cast doubt on Hermione’s theory, not when she was so

surprisingly willing to fall in with Harry’s dearest wish.

“Yeah, he might have done! So, are we going to go to Godric’s Hollow?”

“Yes, but we’ll have to think it through carefully, Harry.” She was sitting up now,

And Harry could tell that the prospect of having a plan again had lifted her mood as much

as his. “We’ll need to practice Disapparating together under the Invisibility Cloak for a

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 778