Author's Notes: This is the first part of a continuation after chapter 36 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, for no good reason except that I wanted to read a little more. Not knowing the rating system very well, this is for anybody who could read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I probably won't change anything due to criticism, constructive or not, because this was written strictly for my pleasure. Flames will be used to lower my heating bill. Flattery warms the cockles of my heart.
I certainly will depart from canon on some points, try as I might not to do so.
I had originally set the raid on Gringott's on a Monday morning towards the middle of May. I have since learned that it was to be on the first of May, with the defeat of Voldemort on the morning of the 2nd. In 1998 this was a Saturday. A few minor corrections have been made to comply with this date.
In any case, enjoy. (Disclaimer at the end.)
Putting one foot in front of the other had become a challenge. Harry's eyes were trying to drift shut of their own accord, despite the rest of him being upright and walking, or at least shuffling, toward Gryffindor Tower. The others were no better off, he was sure. It didn't help that they had had to detour down a floor. He nearly ran into Hermione when she stopped suddenly; she pointed her wand at a wall and said "Tapeto ex duro" as she waved them back. A stone curtain became a tapestry, and they remembered....
Two bodies tumbled halfway out of the passage hidden behind the tapestry. They looked at one another, dismayed.
"Expecto Patronum!" said Hermione, obviously concentrating. The otter bounded out of the tip of her wand, looked back at her for an instant, and swam back down the corridor, turning to slide down the staircase. "That should warn Professor McGonagall."
"The Carrows might still be in the Ravenclaw Common Room," said Harry slowly.
"People are going to start coming out of the Great Hall pretty soon, aren't they? Everybody's tired, they'll all want a kip--" Ron sounded worried.
Harry had his own wand out. "Accio Wands." Two wands flew into his hand, one of them split near the tip. The Death Eaters still did not move. He risked a closer look.
One was surely dead. His head hung at an impossible angle as Ron and Harry pulled him out onto the floor. The second one was unconscious. Hermione looked up and down the corridor.
"Homenum Revelio." After a few seconds' concentration she looked at Ron and Harry.
"There's no one ahead of us, but someone's coming from below. Fast."
In a few seconds Professor McGonagall and Arthur Weasley rounded the corner behind them, followed by Charlie and a man they didn't recognize.
"Are they alive? Good heavens! Charles, Mr. Boot, could you take this one to the entrance hall, the Healer will tell you what to do. I'm afraid the other will wait until someone returns. Thank you for the Patronus, Miss Granger, although Mrs. Weasley thought of the same thing some time ago when she noticed you three missing. You were going to Gryffindor Tower? We will escort you, but Arthur and I will need to be certain that it is cleared first."
"Professor, I remembered the Carrows, are they still in the Ravenclaw Common Room?"
"They were removed last night. Did anything else happen that requires immediate attention?"
"Well-- there's the Room of Requirement-- Crabbe and his Fiendfyre. That was in the room where people hid stuff. I guess Neville would be the best one to check whether anyone can still get in," said Ron.
"Fiendfyre! We'll need Hagrid too, it may have spawned Ashwinders. And Crabbe? I haven't seen him--"
"He-- he didn't get out. I'm sorry, Professor...." said Harry, seeing her expression.
He gave her the two wands and fell in beside her as she started to walk. Just behind him Arthur spoke.
"The portraits knew where you had gone, of course, but Molly suggested rather strongly that we should be looking for any wounded or, um, overlooked Death Eaters. After we're sure the dormitories and the ways to them are clear we'll finish the rest of the castle. We already have the ghosts looking."
Harry said nothing for a moment, but he could feel Hermione's eyes on the back of his head. Well, he wasn't a student anymore, was he? And this was serious.
"Um, Professor-- I have something that might help," he said, pulling the Marauder's Map from his pouch and tapping it with his wand, murmuring "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
"Potter, what... Arthur, look at this! We're here, there is the– er– body.... Potter, this is marvelous, where did it come from? Did Sirius have this? Now, Gryffindor Tower... no, they're all students, that saves a great deal of effort... but I don't recognize this name in the Astronomy Tower...Is this reliable?"
"Um... yes, Sirius and Lupin helped make it, and they said it didn't lie." He did not feel like elaborating.
"I cannot help but think that this explains some other things as well. However, if we may borrow it for a few hours, I think it will be safe for you three to go to your old rooms. But do keep your wands out. I have been informed that the password is now 'Victorious.' I expect there will be others arriving as soon as we have cleared the castle and we can allow those in the Hall to leave it. Thank you, Potter."
"Kingsley told us to make any number of Portkeys we needed, and the train will be coming tomorrow," said Mr. Weasley tiredly as Professor McGonagall strode back down the corridor. "There is going to be some kind of gathering before everyone leaves and I think more people will be coming for it. Hermione, I'll send Ginny up, with Molly if she'll go. I don't think anyone should be alone yet, so don't go anywhere by yourselves. By this evening we should know better what's going on." He turned away and followed McGonagall.
The halls and stairs had never seemed so endless, but soon they were climbing the last staircase to the echoing applause of the portraits and suits of armor lining the walls, and stepping into the Common Room. Its clock read a little after nine in the morning. Hermione took out changes of clean clothing for Ron and Harry and sent them upstairs as soon as the portrait- hole opened to admit others.
Harry was able to finish one of the sandwiches Kreacher had left before he kicked off his battered trainers and lay down, three wands under his pillow, and remembered nothing more.
Ron was shaking his shoulder. "Harry, time to get up. Dinner." A little groggy, and very stiff and sore– his right hand hurt, where he had held the burning cup and the diadem, and his chest ached as though he had been kicked by a hippogriff– he sat up and saw that Neville, Dean and Seamus also had been sleeping. He found the map, placed on top of his clean clothes, folded; that must have been George. In addition there were mattresses and sleeping bags on the floor. "Watch where you step. Everyone's had to double up and there's people all over the Common Room and the balcony-- everywhere but the stairs. We got Dad and my brothers, they just went down. He wants us to wash up first. Can't think why."
Water drove the last of the cobwebs out of Harry's brain, although it felt awkward not having a shirt and House tie or Hogwarts robes in which to go down to dinner; but when they arrived it was evident that dinner was, for tonight, a most informal affair.
The Malfoys were once again at the Slytherin side, but now Goyle and Narcissa were apparently trying to comfort a woman hunched over the table. Harry suddenly realized it must be Crabbe's or Goyle's mother, and wondered if their fathers were still alive. The faces of those he had known among Hogwarts' dead came to his mind, but he had not paid much attention to the Death Eaters. He saw Draco and Lucius standing awkwardly off to one side and left Ron in order to approach them, pulling out the hawthorn wand.
"Draco, here. Take this. I think your mother will need hers back. It should work again for you if it's freely returned, I think–"
Draco Malfoy took the wand from Harry's hand. From his expression as he grasped it Harry could tell that they were both satisfied. He pointed it toward the bare wall, and silver sparks flared from the tip. Then he met Harry's eyes.
Harry nodded and turned to go, but Lucius' voice stopped him. "If I may ask, Potter– what is to become of the Elder Wand?"
Harry had expected the question, and gave the answer he had worked out.
"Broken if possible. Hidden if not. Whatever power it really has will be no match for what people will think it does, and I don't need a lifetime of dueling. Remember Draco's wand defeated it twice; I don't think it's unbeatable, not the way Voldemort thought it was." He hoped it was close enough to pass for the truth.
Lucius Malfoy nodded. "Do so, then, Potter. Not many would, in their ignorance and ambition."
As they spoke Draco bent down beside his mother, and came back holding out a familiar shape.
"Mother's been using this since you were brought to the Manor. I think Miss Granger would like it back." He almost stumbled over the name but Harry decided to ignore it, thanking him instead and turning to go before their truce faded.
Although he went to the Gryffindor table, joining Hermione, the Weasleys, and Neville's grandmother, there were Luna and her father as well as Ernie McMillan and his parents, and several others from the DA with their families. Xeno Lovegood looked very much the worse for his stay in Azkaban, although he rose and thanked them effusively for rescuing Luna. He rambled an awkward apology until Dean and Luna herded him onto a bench and diverted his attention with food. Neville's grandmother and Molly Weasley were reminiscing about the Prewetts; Harry suspected Mrs. Longbottom had started the conversation.
As soon as he seated himself, however, all of his attention was occupied with the fact that Ginny was taking the place to his left, with Hermione and then Ron on his right, and that a Hogwarts dinner was an impossible time to have a private conversation. He had no idea where to begin, but she forestalled him.
"Harry, can we talk later? I know we've got a lot to say, but this isn't the place. It might be a while yet 'til we get a chance-- we might have to get all of this over with first--"
She looked away, unable to finish.
He found her hand beneath the table and squeezed it. "I'm here when you need me."
As the meal wandered to a close, Professor Slughorn rose and asked for silence, announcing for those who had come late to the Hall that a memorial service would begin at nine-thirty in the morning on the grounds, that there would be a brief meeting for the student body afterwards, and that Headmaster Snape's funeral would begin at two in the afternoon.
Harry felt a chill. The lawn where Dumbledore's tomb was? Had it already been re-sealed?
Hermione had turned to look at him, and so had Ron, and they all rose. He felt like running; but then Slughorn was there, asking him to sit in the front row, and Harry was realizing that he had to be famous again for a while. To Slughorn's obvious surprise Harry insisted upon sitting with the Weasleys and Hermione. At last they escaped the Great Hall.
"Potter, a word if you please--" They had nearly made it to the door. But, Harry realized suddenly, Professor McGonagall should know how to restore the tomb; he had been wondering whether a simple repairing spell would work without the power of the Elder Wand, and if the object was to put it back inside first....
"Yes, Professor. Just me, or all of us?"
"All three of you, this need not be private." She led the way to a classroom door she could force open. It was strange to dust off a few desks, the Professor pulling a seat around for herself, with long, golden evening light spilling through a broken wall into a demolished classroom.
"You will have heard about the service tomorrow. It will be nothing as formal as Dumbledore's funeral; Kingsley will be here to speak, and I and the other Heads of Houses. I wish to reassure you that we are not asking you to do so, although there will be opportunity for anyone to contribute. The important thing is that all of us who fought may never meet again all at once. Professor Slughorn is arranging everything-- has he seen you?"
"Um, yes. But, Professor-- will this be where Dumbledore's tomb is? Voldemort broke into it-- has it been fixed?"
"No, we will be closer to the Quidditch pitch. We have not been allowed to touch the tomb, on Headmaster Snape's orders-- presumably from Voldemort. That is the most important thing I must ask of you. We may need Dumbledore's wand to repair it. If we cannot, we must build a new structure to encase the old, but for these last weeks we have been permitted only to protect it from the weather.
"Which brings us to the next item. The rest of the students and guests have been told to fix nothing about the castle unless it is dangerously unstable, or necessary in the dormitories and bathrooms. Visitors are already arriving, and it has been decided that they will see for themselves the effects of the battle. The staff will be restoring classrooms, for instance, only if they are needed for housing." All three nodded.
"Professor, are you Headmistress now?" asked Harry.
McGonagall turned her head slightly, suddenly looking older and very weary. Had this past year done that to her, or had he simply not noticed before?
"The formal announcement will be made tomorrow while Kingsley is here, but yes, the remaining governors have requested that I fill the position for at least the next year."
"Then you'll figure this out anyway, as soon as you talk to the other headmasters' portraits. But it has to remain a secret among us." Quickly Harry repeated his plans for the Elder Wand. "If we need the Elder Wand to fix the tomb, I'll have to find another place to hide it, or break it afterwards. But if you could come with us now, there shouldn't be anyone else around to see what we're doing."
For a moment McGonagall was silent. When she did speak her voice was not steady as she looked at each of them.
"I am glad, Potter. I should have expected no less. I cannot say how proud I am, of all of you." She took a deep breath and rose. "Let us go and try now. And then I believe I must sleep."
It was a fine evening for the walk down to the white tomb near the lake, although the air around it shimmered oddly. The spell protecting it from the weather incorporated a Disillusionment Charm, which distorted its view; a refinement, they learned, of Professor Flitwick's. Professor McGonagall made an odd motion as if parting a curtain, and had them go in before her. As they passed through the barrier, the faint sounds of revelry from the direction of the village were muted.
Harry had already seen the burial violated through Voldemort's eyes, although he did not want to move where he could see any more of the body inside. The open crack ran lengthwise, and it looked as if the halves might yet fall apart.
"And then there is this. It was removed from Voldemort's robes, but it also belongs to you, Potter." McGonagall held out another wand, very much as though it had been a rotten flobberworm. A bleached wooden shape reminiscent of the fangs of a striking viper served as a grip. Harry took the twin to his phoenix wand gingerly. It didn't feel nearly as pleasant as his.
"I don't need it. But other people will want it, won't they? Just like Dumbledore's wand."
"I cannot imagine that no one would try to take it."
"I should break it, then."
"Hold it for yourself, properly, but do not use it," said McGonagall. Harry closed his eyes. "What do you feel?"
"It doesn't feel right, of course, but there's something else--" he opened his eyes again--"like an extra layer on the outside. Did he reinforce it somehow?"
"Very good. Miss Granger, would you try?"
Hermione took it unwillingly. "It feels as if it likes to cause pain, just like Bellatrix's, but there's that extra bit too.... " Her voice trailed off thoughtfully as she handed it to Ron.
"It feels almost like that locket. But I bet it's cursed too, like the ring, isn't it? That's what they feel, something so anyone breaking it gets cursed."
"Excellent logic, Mr. Weasley. You are all quite correct. This wand has protection that few other wizards of our time could have provided, and should that protection fail, it would have revenge. It is still dangerous; the curse has not died with the owner. I fear that a similar curse may have been put upon the Elder Wand.
"Had this been a normal year, part of your education would have been in detecting such traces of magic, and distinguishing which might be Dark. Well done, all of you."
"What about this one, Professor?" Hermione held out the walnut wand.
"I assume it belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange? It is not protected or cursed in that way." Hermione took it back as Harry spoke.
"Now, for these two. What's the best thing to do? Go away for the summer maybe, stay out of sight for a bit, then tell everyone they're lost or destroyed?" he asked.
"That is one effective option, and would help prevent you from being attacked on their account. May I?" McGonagall's wand sent the fanged one drifting into the rent in the marble close to Dumbledore's feet.
"It can stay there too. Potter, will you try replacing Dumbledore's wand first?"
The Elder Wand floated toward the broken marble block, finally disappearing inside the center of the crevice.
"Now let us all try. Three, two, one– Sarcophagus Repairem–"
All four spells hit the tomb. The result was not as spectacular as at Dumbledore's funeral, but to Harry's surprise the same white flames flashed up, licking at the cracks in the stone and invisibly sealing them, save for a single crystalline glint where the long rift had been. On closer inspection Harry was not sure whether it was a flaw or not; it was no wider than a blade of grass and danced in and out of the once- again smooth surface, blending with the faint veins already in the stone. Perhaps it had been there before.
"There is one more thing we could do, Potter. If anyone really wants that wand, they will come after you first. We can perform the Fidelius Charm. Whether or not you elect to be Secret- Keeper yourself, it will not stop anyone from trying to get the location from you, but it will prevent any of us from betraying it while you live. If you wish another to do so, that is among you three. I am likely to pre-decease all of you, at which time you would need to renew the charm."
Harry saw Ron and Hermione nod at him, leaving the choice in his hands. "Okay, Professor. I'll do it. What do we need to do?"
"You two may stand over there; when we are done, you will please ask both of us where this tomb is. Potter, you must concentrate upon the Elder Wand. Do not think of the tomb itself or of Dumbledore, just the wand, otherwise we may have a great deal to explain. Nod when you are ready."
As always happened when Harry needed to focus, thoughts about everything else tried to intrude. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and forced himself; and suddenly it was much easier, as it had been at Shell Cottage to block out Voldemort.... He decided to do one better, and concentrated on both wands. After a few more seconds, he nodded.
He felt the spell find him, find the two wands in his mind, try his resolve to hold them there in the blackness a few yards away. Then it seemed to diminish, curling itself around his memory of the wands and settling as if to hibernate. He opened his eyes as Hermione spoke, asking Ron and McGonagall where Dumbledore was buried, then asking himself. It was done. As he turned away from the tomb he saw that McGonagall had removed Flitwick's barrier as well.
Hermione walked toward the lake and called them all to follow.
"Ron, could you stand there? Okay, Harry, over there, and Professor, here.... Harry, you throw this as high as you can toward the lake, I'd like us all to blast it."
Harry and Ron grinned at each other, wands ready, as Hermione counted to three and Harry whipped Bellatrix's wand high in the air. Four voices yelled "Confringo!" almost in unison. The enormous BOOM of four colliding Blasting Spells nearly deafened them, rolling for a long time among the mountains and across the lake. Pulverized walnut scattered toward the water and over it.
"They will have heard that from Hogsmeade to the Forest. If anyone saw, as far as they're concerned it can be the Elder Wand."
They started back to the castle, slowly, talking to the new Headmistress of Hogwarts as freely as to one another about the past year. Harry realized that Neville had hardly scratched the surface when they had spoken last evening; for her part, McGonagall asked penetrating questions, shaking her head in amazement and horror at their descriptions of Bathilda's house and the Horcruxes. As they reached the door she stopped to take her leave.
"The train will come tomorrow. The school will be closed until next week, but classes will resume on Monday next. You will all be here, of course."
"But we dropped out–" said Ron, puzzled. Hermione gasped.
"There will be more detail forthcoming. But many students have not completed this year, and many more did not satisfy the requirements for magical ancestry. Those that did are so ill-prepared for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s that the next month of studying will likely make little difference. The only solution so far is to administer final tests, and the O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.s, on time as usual and use the results to develop the next year's curriculum. It means there will be an extra year's worth of students to house, and classes must be larger; but the staff and governors are all agreed that it must be tried...."
"Professor, this is true? We can really come back?" Then Hermione's embrace knocked the breath out of McGonagall. Harry felt lucky that she hadn't shrieked too.
McGonagall left them at the entrance hall, and they could hear her chuckling.
The sun was going down. Ron looked into the Great Hall, which seemed to have become the Common Room for all the visitors who had nowhere else to go until the next day; Hogsmeade, Harry was sure, must be filled to bursting as it had been the previous June, despite the short notice: they had been able to hear the celebration from the grounds. He moved over to the announcement board. Everything had been removed except for two large parchments, one saying that classes would resume on a schedule yet to be determined on the next Monday, to give families and students the opportunity to go home for funerals, and to arrange Portkeys through Professor Flitwick; the other was the inevitable butcher's bill that Harry had been dreading. Fifty- odd names on the top half, many of whom he had known to some degree, a few teachers whose classes he had taken; three close friends; some names obviously belonging to house- elves or Centaurs; some members of the Order. Among the rest he recognized surnames– probably relatives who, like Molly Weasley, had needed to stand between their children and those trying to take their lives. Crabbe's name was there; Harry wondered if he should say anything about it. Severus Snape had been included– well, the life he had kept so private had been so thoroughly exposed– just that morning?
The lower half was a listing of Death Eaters. Both Crabbe's and Goyle's fathers, Bellatrix, Greyback, Macnair, many names familiar but most not; a few very familiar indeed, Slytherins who had been in their sixth or seventh year. And near the bottom of the list, no larger than any other name, was "Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort."
He realized that he wasn't alone when Ginny took his hand. After a moment he asked, "How's George? And your mum?"
"A little better. I know how it feels to lose Fred, it's bad enough, but I can't begin to understand what it's like for George. I doubt they'd ever been apart for a day in their lives. Lee Jordan's kind of sticking close to him, and the team is there too. Mum's just gone up to the infirmary with Hermione and Ron, and Dad's at home now with Bill and Fleur and Charlie, getting things ready. They'll be back first thing tomorrow."
"And how are you?"
Ginny was silent for a moment, then: "Very tired. Mum couldn't sleep today until one of the Healers gave both her and George a sleeping draught."
"St. Mungo's sent everybody they could spare at dawn. Madame Pomfrey did far too much last night, so they sent her to bed as soon as they got in the door. I think maybe you ought to find somebody to look you
over– these look like burns–" she held up his sore hand– "and your face is a mess–"
"I'll get Hermione to lend me the dittany again–"
"They're in the infirmary by now anyway."
She pulled him away from the list, and they started upstairs.
"When will Fred's funeral be?"
"The day after tomorrow. Lupin's and Tonk's too– all in the churchyard at Ottery St. Catchpole. Andromeda Tonks is coming, of course. You'll get to meet your godson."
"That's right– does she know...?"
"I think they must have told her, don't you? In case this happened. And then there's a few days until we have to be back here. Will you be coming back?"
"Professor McGonagall told us we could, although I'm not sure what I could learn in a month that would help me with N.E.W.T.s. She said she'd say more about it tomorrow."
"Harry, I'll try break this to you gently: you'll probably get an 'Outstanding' in Defense Against the Dark Arts just by signing your name."
For some reason that did it. He tried to laugh quietly, tears streaming down his face, but at the moment the corridor was empty. By the time he stopped their arms were around each other, holding tight.
"I missed you," he said.
"I missed you, too. Can we stop pretending we've broken up?"
"Don't I need to apologize first?"
"No, not really," Ginny sighed, resigned. "You just wanted to keep your underage girlfriend from getting kidnapped or killed, like Mum and Dad. I didn't like it, of course. But I didn't much like fighting, either, it just had to be done."
"I really am sorry I had to play dead like that, though. I know it hurt all of you but it was the only way to get away from the Death Eaters and get to Voldemort and that snake.... and I am so sorry about Fred."
Eventually they felt like continuing.
The Healer was tired and inclined to complain that Harry should have tended to himself long before, all the while conducting a thorough examination, muttering about burns, bruises, and the welts on the insides of his legs. Harry didn't answer when the man grumped about what did he think he'd been doing, getting into such a fight at his age, he'd better appreciate how lucky he was.... The Healer hadn't recognized the scar on Harry's forehead; Harry wondered what might happen if he mentioned his name, and immediately crushed the idea. He didn't need to make the man feel worse. Ginny was waiting outside the infirmary when it was over, a little more cheerful; she had seen a list of patients transferred to St. Mungo's, including some friends she had been worried about. For lack of anywhere else, they started for Gryffindor Tower, having missed the others.
"You will tell me, in great detail, exactly what happened out there, but not tonight. Are you going to write everything down before that Skeeter woman does, or are you going to repeat it every time someone asks?"
"McGonagall said something about that too. Victorious–"
Smiling at them, the Fat Lady had started to open before he'd finished the password.
"I bet Ron's waiting up for us...."
Ron was indeed in the Common Room, and so were many others, most quite willing to turn and look at Harry. Hermione came to meet them at the door, asking quietly if they were all right, smiling as they nodded and then indicating the crowded corner where Ron stood. Suddenly the corner was much noisier; Harry recognized a Muffliato charm and he and Ginny were being loudly welcomed into a massive Quidditch blow- by- blow discussion, greeting Jimmy Coote and Ritchie Peakes and Demelza Robins, who were all a little star- struck over Oliver Wood– Harry had not even noticed the night before that he had come dressed in Puddlemere United robes. George was there, mostly withdrawn but chiming in occasionally. As Wood was finishing a story about his first professional match (Puddlemere two hundred and ten to seventy, against Caerphilly) Harry wondered what had happened at school over the past year. He tossed the question out into the lull.
"No Quidditch at all this year," said Peakes. "The Carrows announced that the first week. Of course they said it was too much distraction from schoolwork and too dangerous, especially since they sacked Madame Hooch–"
"I just saw her at dinner–"
"She came back with everyone this morning. Anyway we all figured there was no way they'd allow a student a broom in case we tried to escape, even though there was no way we could get past the dementors and the boundary."
George finally smiled a little and said, "Sorry."
It took them a moment to remember, and then there was pandemonium, with ten or eleven people at once laughing and crying, trying to tell a puzzled Oliver about the twins' escape from Umbridge and Hogwarts two years before.
It was another twenty minutes before the laughter and the talk quieted a bit and they started drifting off to bed. Ginny had squeezed Harry's hand and left with Hermione, and he and Ron followed.
"You and Ginny patched things up?" asked Ron quietly as they entered their dorm. Neville and Seamus were snoring a little.
"Yes," said Harry, not wanting an argument; but he had determined that he would no longer back down from Ron or anyone else about Ginny.
"Good," said Ron simply. Harry must have looked a little blank, because Ron continued, "You're alive, mate. You weren't expecting to be, were you? Anyway, Hermione threatened me. I'm not to fuss."
"Threatened you with what?"
"Mum. Said she'd tell her how high my standards were last year."
They managed not to wake anyone else in the room, which was a waste of effort as soon as George, Oliver, and Dean came to bed, still talking Quidditch as they unrolled sleeping bags.
(End Part 1)
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