They remained still as the second reporter — the wizard — and his cameraman stopped directly in front of them.
"Which way did he go? I thought I saw him run this way with the red-haired girl," the reporter demanded.
The cameraman shrugged. "I thought so, too."
"Damn! I got a direct quote, though. That ought to be worth something," the reporter said, reading over his notes.
"He said to use fire to fight the Inferi," the cameraman said. "Is that true?"
"No idea," the reporter replied, shrugging. "It doesn’t matter, though; it’ll make a great headline, and the public will eat it up. Come on. I’m certain he was headed in this direction."
Harry swore violently as the two moved away. "Did you hear them? Fire is the way to fight an Inferius, but they didn’t even care," Harry said, fuming.
"I know, Harry. They just wanted their story. Still, since it is the truth, they might be able to save themselves one day, and if they quote you directly, you’ve just done more than Scrimgeour has during his whole stint as Minister," Ginny replied, patting him on the arm consolingly.
Harry sighed. There was no use getting frustrated. It wouldn’t help, and he had too many other things to accomplish this day.
"Let’s go back and rejoin Ron and Hermione," he said, leading Ginny back towards the Apothecary.
"We should go around through that street there," Ginny said, pointing. "It’s less crowded and no one will brush against the Cloak."
Harry nodded and they began to move through the crowded streets, finding it very difficult not to jostle the many passersby. Several people turned with a start on more than one occasion when either Harry or Ginny brushed against them.
"I wish we could just Apparate," Ginny whispered.
"I know. I thought the same thing when the reporters were chasing us. It’s too crowded though, and no telling if we’d appear in front of your family or the Order. I suspect word is out that we’re here by now, and I’m certain the area is crawling with Weasleys," Harry replied.
"Hey! I resemble that remark," she said, elbowing him in the ribs.
Harry grinned, rubbing his abdomen. "I never said the Weasleys weren’t some of my favorite people, I just don’t want to see most of them right now."
"Smooth, Potter," Ginny replied with a grin. "I see that living with Hermione and me for the past month has taught you a few things."
"More than you could possibly imagine," Harry replied, grinning as his mind traveled over the many scraps of information he’d learned from living in such close proximity with the girls.
Ginny cursed suddenly, shocking Harry out of his musings. He expected that kind of language from Ron, but hearing it from Ginny caught him off guard, and he desperately tried to control his urge to laugh.
"Ginny," he admonished, failing to keep his face stern.
"Shhh," Ginny hissed, tugging on his arm until they were backed against a brick wall. "There."
He looked in the direction she was pointing and felt his breath hitch in his chest. On the other side of the street stood Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. They were obviously searching for something…or someone. They were asking questions of various witches and wizards on the street. Shacklebolt flashed his Auror badge several times, and appeared rather put-out.
It was the expression on Mrs. Weasley’s face that made Harry’s stomach churn uncomfortably. She had that determined Weasley glint in her eye that Harry had come to know so well, but she looked tired and thin — as if she hadn’t been eating or sleeping well for the past month.
"Oh, Mum," Ginny said, clutching Harry’s chest tightly. He forced himself not to wince as her nails dug into his flesh.
Kingsley said something that caused Mrs. Weasley to snarl at him, her words carrying across the street. "I’m not leaving until I find my babies. They’re here somewhere, and I will find them."
She reminded Harry of a mother tiger protecting her young as she prowled up and down the street, her eyes absorbing every detail.
Bill placed his hands on his mother’s shoulders and whispered something soothing in her ear. Mrs. Weasley began to cry and buried her head in Bill’s shoulder.
Ginny stiffened in Harry’s arms and quickly turned her face away.
"We’d better hurry and find Ron and Hermione to warn them," Harry said gruffly.
Ginny swallowed and they moved away, obscured beneath the Cloak. They fiercely clutched one another’s hands as they hurried along the street.
"We’ll be able to see her soon, Ginny," Harry whispered, his throat raw. "I promise."
Ginny nodded woodenly, her eyes remaining fixed in front of her, but her grip tightened.
As they reached the Apothecary, Harry momentarily panicked when he didn’t see Ron or Hermione. A mere second later, the two poked their heads around the corner. Harry and Ginny sprinted over to them.
"We’re here," Harry whispered. "We have to get out of here quickly, though."
"Where have you been?" Ron asked loudly. His eyes looked slightly wild.
"Be quiet, Ron," Ginny hissed. "We saw Mum and Bill. The Order is here looking for us. Apparate to the Smith Museum, and we’ll tell you all about it."
Harry and Ginny waited for Ron and Hermione to disappear before following. Right before he side-along Apparated Ginny to the museum, he saw Bill and Mrs. Weasley run around the corner, heading straight for the Apothecary.
**--**--
As nightfall finally blanketed the city, and insects began buzzing around the street lamps, Harry sat staring at the entrance of the Smith Museum. The late summer evening was warm, and many people roamed the street, choosing to walk rather than ride the tube. One Muggle in particular appeared to be simply out for an evening stroll, passing them every few minutes while on the opposite side of the street, as if he was circling the block.
They’d conjured sandwiches for supper — thank goodness Ron and Ginny were Weasleys and knew all the best food-conjuring spells — and eaten them on a bench across the street from the museum. Harry could hardly believe they’d finally reached this point. Tonight he’d know for certain if they’d managed to locate another Horcrux…With any luck, after tonight they’d be one step closer to the final confrontation and ending this thing. He shivered slightly, and Ginny put her arm around him and rubbed his arm, thinking he was cold.
Having her next to him felt nice, but the thought nagged at him that by letting her stay so close, it would make it all the harder to let her go and do what he had to do in the end. At night, when sleep wouldn’t come no matter how exhausting the day had been, Harry’s thoughts always turned to the fact that he didn’t think he would survive the final confrontation.
He still hoped that Hermione would come up with some brilliant plan, but as of yet they’d found nothing to change his mind. He found it profoundly ironic that now — at what was most likely the end of his life — he finally had such an intense desire to live. In the past, although he’d certainly never wanted to die, he’d never had any great passion for living. It had never mattered much either way to him.
Now, it mattered.
As he grew closer to Ginny, the more he thought that having to say goodbye to her would do him in without Voldemort ever getting involved. Still, he wouldn’t trade this time he’d spent with her. If he couldn’t give her forever, he could at least give her now, and he wanted to make every moment worth the memory.
"I don’t see why we didn’t just Apparate inside and wait there," Ron moaned for about the hundredth time.
"Honestly, Ron," said Ginny, exasperated. "For the last time, we don’t know if there is anyone still working inside. If there is, they should be going home now."
"Besides, there are Anti-Apparation wards in place," Harry said, running a hand through his hair.
"How do you know?" Hermione asked, suddenly looking up from her sandwich.
Harry stared at her, feeling slightly confused. "That humming sound, don’t you hear it? It’s the same sound I always heard at Privet Drive. I can hear it near the gates at Hogwarts, too. I reckon it’s the wards, right?"
All three pairs of eyes stared at him in astonishment.
"You…you can hear the wards?" Ron asked, finally.
A wave of apprehension went down Harry’s spine. Not again. "Can’t you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
All three shook their heads, Hermione frowning.
"Look, we can discuss this later," Ginny said finally, taking charge. "If there are anti-apparation wards in place, how do you propose we get inside?"
"Are you the sister of Fred and George Weasley or what?" Harry asked, grinning as he pulled a hairpin from his pocket. "They showed me how to do this after you lot rescued me from the Dursleys before second year."
"Figures they’d show you and not me," Ron grumbled.
The twins had done their job well, and it took Harry only a moment to pick the lock on the front door. The four quickly and quietly slipped inside the museum, closing the heavy door behind them.
"Well, here we are," Ron whispered, staring around the room at all the old artifacts. The light from the street lamps cast long shadows on the walls, and the air was thick with tension.
Harry could understand Ron’s urge to whisper, he felt it, too and had to force himself to overcome it. A prickle of apprehension ran down his spine as he moved further into the room.
"Come on. Let’s spread out and start looking. Ron, you wear the Spell Detector again," Harry said. "Hermione and Ginny, just keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary, and we can double check it with the Spell Detector."
They all nodded and fanned out, although Hermione appeared doubtful. Harry shut his eyes, envisioning the scene from the Pensieve. Riddle had met Hepzibah Smith in a sitting room, and it couldn’t have been too
close to the entry hall since the little house-elf, Hokey, had taken a few minutes to retrieve Riddle when the doorbell had rung.
Harry wandered away from the other three, peeking into several rooms until finally entering a small room located off the main hallway. The hairs on the back of his neck rose the moment he entered. The room was much neater than in the Pensieve memory, but it was unmistakably the same. In fact, several of the polished display cases contained some of the orbs and celestial globes he remembered, and in one sat the jeweled mirror that Hepzibah had used repeatedly to check her appearance. Harry suspected the mirror didn’t reflect the whole truth, which is probably what had appealed to Hepzibah.
"Ron," Harry called. "Bring that Spell Detector in here, would you?"
He stared around the room, an odd feeling of déjà vu overpowering him as he listened to Ron’s clomping footsteps moving closer toward the sitting room. Every instinct in Harry’s body told him there was something here. He was tense and alert, and he had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, following Ron into the room. "Oh, this is the same room, isn’t it?"
"You can feel it too, then?" Harry asked, relieved.
"Feel what?" Hermione asked.
Harry furrowed his brow. "You knew this was the same room. I thought…" Harry mumbled, his words trailing.
Hermione shook her head. "No. I remember it. The architecture is the same even if it’s been painted. I recognize those windows, and the fireplace is slightly off-center."
Harry blinked looking around the room. She was right; the fireplace was off-center. He was again amazed at Hermione’s ability to pick up obvious details that he somehow always overlooked.
"Where’s Ginny?" he asked.
"She said there was no point in all of us searching the same room, so she kept looking in the entry hall. She said to call her if we find anything," Hermione replied.
"There is loads of magical energy here," Ron said, looking around with the Spell Detectors, "but I don’t see anything Dark."
"Keep looking," Harry said grimly. "It’s here." He knew it; he could feel it as certainly as if Felix Felicis was telling him.
Harry moved towards the center of the room, imagining the scene in his mind. He could see Hepzibah sitting at her table; Riddle moving towards the locket, drawing his wand. Hepzibah’s eyes widened in fear, perhaps realizing too late that she was in trouble. She tried to grab the cup and the locket, but Voldemort would have Banished them from her grasp. They would have flown off the table and landed….here.
Harry opened his eyes, the vision in his mind’s eye vanishing as he found himself standing in the corner of the room. A section of the wall was covered with a large, intricately carved wardrobe. He began to shiver, as if a strong, frigid gust of air had blown through him. He could hear Ron and Hermione speaking in the background, but he’d completely tuned out their words and was focused instead on the distinct hum he could hear around the wardrobe.
Using his wand, he moved the large piece of furniture away from the wall and began inspecting it, running his hands all along the rough, painted surface. Muttering to himself, talking through the same movements he’d seen Dumbledore make several months ago.
It was no use; the wall didn’t have that same energy. It had vanished the moment he’d moved the wardrobe. Again using his wand, he levitated the wardrobe back in place. Immediately, his shivering returned as his senses heightened.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, moving next to him.
Harry didn’t answer. He began running his hands along the outside of the wardrobe. The vibrations shook him to the core.
"Is there something inside?" Ron asked, putting his hand to the knob and trying to pull it open.
"Watch it," Harry hissed, shoving Ron back.
"What did you do that for?" Ron asked, sounding irritated.
"Don’t just go putting your hands on it, Ron," Harry said, firing up. "We have no idea what kinds of protective spells are here."
"We don’t even know if it’s there," Ron fired back. "Besides, nothing happened. It didn’t even open." As if making his point, Ron tugged on the handle again. It still wouldn’t open.
Hermione and Harry each tried to tug on it, but it didn’t budge.
"Why would they keep an old wardrobe if they couldn’t even use it?" Ron asked, looking around the room at all the family artifacts.
"It’s really old and probably valuable, Ron. It has the Smith family crest engraved at the top. I assume it’s a family heirloom," Hermione said, scowling. "They’re obviously are very proud of their heritage, and Riddle would have known this. If he hid something here, they’d keep it here forever."
"How do you know that’s the Smith crest?" Ron asked, staring at the top of the wardrobe.
"Look around. It’s everywhere here," Hermione replied, exasperated.
Harry ignored them. He ran his hand along the front of the wardrobe, feeling the heat emanating from it.
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