94 hp Diagon Alley

Earl seemed taken aback. "I need them both here. I need to talk to them. It's important."

He heard the majesty in his voice.Everyone turned to look at him, puzzled.

Dobby couldn't say who sent him to the dungeon just yet, but Harry knew what he saw, and he just looked into the blue eyes on the chocolate frog card, and help came.At Hogwarts, those who ask for help always get it.

The scar still stings, and he knew Voldemort was thinking about it too.Harry understood, but didn't understand.His gut said so.The Dumbledore in Harry's mind was smiling, fingers folded together as if in prayer, looking over his fingertips at him.

You gave Ron the Deluminator.You know him...you gave him a way back...

You know Malfoy too...you know he has a pure soul and isn't a total villain...

If you know them... what do you know about me, Dumbledore?

Am I doomed to know, not to seek?Do you know how hard it would be for me?Is that why you made it so difficult?Give me time to comprehend?

Harry stood there quietly, feeling the scar throbbing angrily, and something flashed in his mind, like a glimpse, the outline of a building he knew so well.

Bill and Fleur stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"I need to talk to Griphook and Ollivander," said Harry. "If Dobby wakes up, I'd like to see him too."

"No," said Fleur, "you'll have to wait, Harry. They're sick and tired—"

"I'm sorry," said Harry calmly, "but I can't wait. I want to talk to them right away. Privately—and separately. It's urgent."

"Harry, what the hell happened?" Bill asked, "You came here with a house-elf and a half-conscious goblin, and Hermione looked like she'd been tortured, and Ron wouldn't tell me anything— —”

"We can't tell anyone what we're doing," said Harry coquettishly. "You're in the Order, Bill, and you know that Dumbledore left us with a mission and we're not allowed to tell anyone."

Fleur made a noise of impatience, but Bill didn't look at her, just at Harry, whose expression was hard to read on his deeply scarred face.Finally, Bill said, "Okay. Who do you want to talk to first?"

Harry hesitated.He knew what this decision would mean.Time is running out and the decision is now: Horcrux or Hallow?

"Griphook," said Harry, "I'll talk to Griphook first."

His heart was beating fast, as if he had been running wild and had just passed a huge obstacle.

"Go up, then," Bill said, leading the way.

Harry stopped after grabbing a few flights of stairs, and looked behind him.

"I need you two too!" he called to Ron and Hermione, who were sneaking around the living room door.

The two walked to the bright place, and seemed to be inexplicably relieved.

"How are you?" Harry asked Hermione, "it's amazing you - when she hurt you like that - could come up with a story like that -"

Hermione smiled weakly, and Ron squeezed an arm around her.

"What are we going to do now, Harry?" asked Ron.

"You'll see. Come up."

After a while, they reached a consensus without difficulty.Harry didn't get to the bottom of what made Griphook agree to their risky plan of "sneaking into the Lestrange vault".Is Harry as a wizard blocking the knife for the elf?Is it Hermione's speech about Muggle-born wizards, elves and goblins?Or is there any other condition for that clever goblin.

"Little rascal," whispered Ron, "to whet our appetites, and he's having a good time."

"Harry," whispered Hermione, pulling them both away from the door and back into the middle of the still dark terrace, "do you mean that? You mean there are Horcruxes in the Lestrange vault? "

"Yes," said Harry, "Bellatrix was horrified and hysterical at the thought of us being there. Why? What did she think we saw? What else did she think we might have taken? She I'm especially afraid that the mysterious person will find that the thing is gone."

"But I thought I was looking for places where You-Know-Who has been or done something important," said Ron, looking a little confused. "Has he been in the Lestrange vault?"

"I don't know if he ever went to Gringotts," said Harry, "he never deposited gold there when he was young because no one left him any. But the first time he went to Diagon Alley , may have seen the bank from the outside."

Harry's scar throbbed, but he ignored it.He hoped to make Ron and Hermione aware of Gringotts before talking to Ollivander.

"I think he might be envious of someone with the key to the Gringotts vault, which he might consider a true sign of membership in the wizarding community. Don't forget, he trusted Bellatrix and her husband a lot. The most loyal servant, he went out to find him after he disappeared. This is what he said the night he came back, and I heard it with my own ears."

Harry rubbed his scar.

"However, I don't think he could have told Bellatrix that it was a Horcrux. He didn't tell Lucius Malfoy the truth about that diary. He might have told Bellatrix that it was a Precious possessions, to be kept in her vault. Hagrid told me that if you want to hide something, it's the safest place in the world...besides Hogwarts."

After Harry finished speaking, Ron shook his head. "You really know him."

"Knows a little bit about him," said Harry, "a little bit...I only wish I knew Dumbledore that way. We'll see. Come on—Ollivander's turn."

Ron and Hermione, looking confused and admiring, followed him across the small landing and knocked on the door of the room opposite Bill and Fleur.A faint "Come in!" answered them.

There were a pair of single beds, and the wandmaker lay on the one away from the window.He'd been in the dungeon for over a year, and Harry knew he'd been tortured at least once.He was very emaciated, with all the bones in his face sticking out, and his skin was yellow.The big silver eyes were sunken deep in the eye sockets, making them look even bigger.The hands on the blanket looked like skeletons.Harry sat on the empty bed, next to Ron and Hermione.The rising sun cannot be seen here, and the room looks out on the cliff-top garden and freshly dug grave.

"Mr. Ollivander, I'm sorry to disturb you," said Harry.

"My dear boy," Ollivander said weakly, "you freed us. I thought we would die there. I can't thank you... I can't thank you enough..."

"We'd be glad to help you," said Harry.

Harry's scar throbbed with pain.He knew, he was sure, there was hardly time to get ahead of Voldemort, too late to stop him.He felt a panic...but he decided to talk to Griphook first.He pretended to be calm, and took out the broken wand from the leather pouch around his neck.

"Mr. Ollivander, I need some help."

"Anything, anything," said the wandmaker feebly.

"Can you fix this? Is it possible?"

Ollivander held out a trembling hand, and Harry placed the two barely joined wand halves in his palm.

"Holly and phoenix feathers," said Ollivander tremblingly, "eleven inches. Pretty and flexible."

"Yes," said Harry, "can you—?"

"No," Ollivander said softly. "I'm sorry, very sorry. The wand has suffered such damage that there is no way, as far as I know, to repair it."

Harry was prepared, but this was still a huge blow to him.He took back the broken wand and put it back in the leather pouch around his neck.Ollivander stared at the place where the broken wand disappeared, and never looked away.

"That sentence sounds familiar." Hermione said a little weakly and apologetically, while Ron looked at her strangely and managed to get a roll of his eyes, "It's Gwen. She said that when your wand broke Exactly the same words."

Ollivander immediately turned his eyes to the two, and asked expectantly, "Is she okay? My little granddaughter..."

"Nice, as far as I know," said Ron. "She did us a little - big favor in the Hog's Head a few weeks ago."

"I think Bill will find a way to notify her when you recover a bit." Hermione said alertly, "but it will probably be in another house, after all, it is not safe to have the three of us here. Harry, what do you want to ask?" ?”

Harry then took from his pocket the two wands he had taken from the Malfoys. "Can you identify it?" Harry asked.

The wandmaker took the first wand, held it up to the dazed old man's eyes, twirled it, and bent it slightly between his knuckle-knuckle fingers.

"Walnut and dragon's nerve," he said, "twelve and three-quarters inches, unyielding, this wand belongs to Bellatrix Lestrange."

"What about this one?"

Ollivander did the same check.

"Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Exactly ten inches. Fairly elastic. This was once Draco Malfoy's wand."

"It was?" Harry repeated. "Isn't it now?"

"Probably not, if you snatch it—"

"—Yeah——" If you just take it from him, it counts.

"—then it might be yours. Of course, the way you take it is important, and besides