A New Place to Stay Chapter 58 - Harry Potter

It’s December 21st, Hogwarts is nearly empty, and Harry is exactly where he hates being: alone with his thoughts, his research, and Dumbledore’s watchful eyes.

As Harry digs through fragile history to track the Elder Wand’s bloody trail, Hermione tries to force her way back into his life. The confrontation is sharp, public, and final. Harry is done pretending things can go back to how they were.

But the holiday quiet breaks in an unexpected way when Neville stays behind, and Harry finally shares what he has learned: the Hallows, the truth behind the story, and why Voldemort’s next move could change everything.

In the stillness of an almost deserted castle, a plan begins to form. Not a good one. Not a safe one. But maybe the only one they have.

Transcript

**Chapter 58: December Already**

It was the twenty-first of December, and nearly everyone had gone home for the holidays. With dark times approaching, families wanted to spend Christmas together, unsure of how many more opportunities they would have.

Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t heading to Prince Manor. He would have preferred that to being at Hogwarts, especially with the way Dumbledore constantly looked at him.

For the first time, it seemed Dumbledore was beginning to realize there was something different about Harry. Thankfully, for the most part, Dumbledore was away on ‘business,’ which likely meant he was out hunting Horcruxes.

So far, without intending to, Harry and Severus had successfully beaten him to them. Shaking off his thoughts, Harry delved into yet another book.

In secret, he had read *Magick Moste Evile*, and the name certainly lived up to expectations. His dad had probably guessed he was too meticulous not to notice that one of his books had gone missing.

It was back where it belonged now, and he was onto other books, reading every defense book he could get his hands on. That wasn’t as easy as it sounded, though, since Harry had turned into the worst Ravenclaw—he had already read most of them.

Tracking the wand wasn’t straightforward either, especially since the trail was so chaotic, littered with murder, betrayal, and blood. It wasn’t just called ‘the most powerful wand in existence’ for nothing.

Madam Pince was more than willing to show him. “Hey, Harry, what are you up to?” Hermione asked as she sat down.

“None of your business,” Harry replied, irritated by her presence. He quickly scooped up everything, not wanting her to see what he was doing.

“Look, Harry, I could help!” Hermione insisted, raising her voice. “I don’t need or want your help,” Harry said calmly as he moved to a different desk.

He didn’t have to worry about putting the newspaper back or accidentally tearing it since he had made copies. They were too delicate for anything else, and he had collected them all dating back to the founders’ time.

They were stored down in the spare room. Harry longed to be in Severus’s quarters right now.

“Shh!” Madam Pince ordered, casting a sharp glance in their direction. “Harry, something is going on!

Surely you can use my help. You know how good I am at research!” Hermione insisted.

She had seen him in the library for days, and if she could get their friendship back on track, she would be thrilled. What better way than to work together, like old times?

He obviously didn’t confide in Neville or Luna since they were never around. “Listen to me.

I do not need your help,” Harry snapped, enunciating each word clearly. Why did she insist on bothering him all the time?

Last year it had been Ron, who at least had given him some space, even if he was busy with Lavender Brown. They were disgusting together.

She called him “Won-Won” all the time, and honestly, they acted like they were six years old. Between her trying to steal his potions book and everything else, he didn’t know how to deal with her.

“Quiet down or leave,” Madam Pince warned, glaring at them. People should always be quiet in a library; it was common courtesy.

Although Mr. Potter had been respectful and quiet every time he was here, which was often.

He had turned into quite the bookworm, reading many of the library’s books, and she was rather fond of him. Still, she wouldn’t tolerate noise in her library, especially with other students trying to work on their essays.

“Go away, Hermione,” Harry said, sighing in exasperation. “Please, Harry,” Hermione replied, her brown eyes filling with tears.

Ron was always with that… that blonde bimbo. She wasn’t comfortable talking to girls her own age; Harry was the only one left.

“NO! FOR THE FINAL TIME!” Harry snapped.

“That is enough! Out!

Go on, shoo!” Madam Pince said, rounding her workstation, ready to force them out of her library if necessary. “Don’t worry, ma’am.

I’m leaving,” Harry said. Harry stood up respectfully, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he gathered his belongings, nearly toppling everything out of his hands.

He strode out of the library, muttering curses about Hermione under his breath. “Harry, please!” Hermione called out, refusing to give up as she hurried after him.

“Just leave me the bloody hell alone!” Harry shouted, his voice echoing down the corridor. Hermione flushed red with humiliation as she noticed people snickering as they passed by.

“Why won’t you forgive me?” she whispered, her heart breaking. “Do you remember what you said to me during first year?

When Ron got hurt?” Harry asked, his expression impassive. “Yes, there are more important things than books and cleverness,” Hermione replied, a bittersweet look crossing her face.

How simple life had been back then. She may not have shown it, but she had been so happy to have friends.

“Do you remember the conversation we had in the hospital wing afterward?” Harry continued. “About what?” Hermione asked, frowning as she struggled to understand his point.

He always seemed to make his points these days, whether he was answering questions or irritating teachers with his smart remarks. He had been so calm with Umbridge, too calm, and it unnerved her completely.

She was used to Harry’s temper getting the better of him. “How we suspected Dumbledore had done it on purpose, so I could face my parents’ killer,” Harry stated coolly.

“Yes,” Hermione replied, a sinking feeling forming in her stomach. She realized where he was going with this.

It was why he refused to be her friend again—because he respected her teachers, just as her parents had taught her. “Yet you still put him over our friendship.

I’ll never forgive you, Hermione. I did it time and time again, and when I needed you most, you didn’t just let me down… you may as well have torn out my heart and stomped on it.

I could have used your wisdom that summer. Hermione… I had just seen Voldemort brought back and watched Cedric Diggory die because I told him to take the cup with me.”

"I would never have done what you did, no matter what anyone said.

That made me realize I valued our friendship more than you did. I'm over that now.

I've moved on, and you should too. Just don’t make the same mistakes again," Harry said softly, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"Can’t we try again?" Hermione pleaded. "There was no way we could send letters; everyone was watching."

"Don’t insult my intelligence, Hermione," Harry snapped, irritation creeping into his tone.

"You could have written it and waited until everyone was asleep before sending it out the window."

"What if it had led the Death Eaters to you?" she shot back defensively. "They thought I was at Privet Drive; I wasn’t.

Don’t try to defend yourself; it won’t change anything," Harry replied firmly. "Now just leave me alone.

I mean it, or I’ll hex you!" 

With that, he turned and walked away, heading to the Gryffindor common room to grab the rest of his books and his cloak before making his way down to the dungeons. Once he was a few corridors away from Hermione, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

He had come close to giving in, and that would have been a mistake. He needed to remember what she had done—how she had ignored him all summer when he was going through a very emotional time.

It would have been even worse if Severus hadn’t realized he was being abused. He owed his dad a lot for helping him overcome the turmoil he had felt since first year.

Severus had made him see that he wasn’t to blame for many of the things he had been torturing himself over. He was always there when Harry needed someone to talk to, giving him a reason to end the war as quickly as possible and the means to do so by training him.

Muttering the password to get into the common room, Harry stepped inside, surprised to see Neville sitting there. "Hey, I thought you were going home for Christmas," Harry said, taken aback.

"I changed my mind. I’ve already spoken to Professor McGonagall," Neville replied.

"She said it was fine, so I’m staying for the holidays."

"Cool," Harry said, relieved to have a friend around. Harry smiled, grateful for some decent company.

"Is it?" Neville asked, staring at Harry with curiosity. "Of course it is," Harry replied, looking at Neville in confusion.

"You’ve been ignoring me for the past month, Harry," Neville said. "No, I haven’t," Harry said, baffled.

"We played chess just last night."

"I know you’re busy trying to find things," Neville pointed out, aware that Harry understood what he meant without needing to say the word 'Horcrux.' "That’s why I haven’t brought it up. Is there anything I can do to help?

I know I’m not good at much, but hopefully, I can help a little."

"I’m sorry, Nev," Harry said, feeling guilty. "Come on, let’s go somewhere more… private."

"Alright," Neville agreed, standing up.

"Just give me a minute to grab some stuff," Harry said. He rushed to his dorm, unlocked his trunk, and began shoving everything he needed into his school bag.

The bag had an expansion charm, allowing him to fit everything inside without it being too heavy thanks to the feather-light charm. Satisfied, he closed the bag, grabbed his cloak, and hurried back down the stairs.

Neville was at the door, just opening it as Harry emerged from the spiral staircase. "So, what’s going on?" Neville asked, settling into one of the seats the Room of Requirement had conjured for them.

"Do you remember me asking Luna about the Hallow sign?" Harry said, sinking into a large, squishy chair and spinning it around to face Neville directly. He knew Neville was smarter and more powerful than most people realized.

"Yeah," Neville said, looking mystified. "It’s true," Harry said.

"What’s true? The sign?" Neville replied, even more perplexed.

"The story about the three brothers meeting Death and receiving the three items," Harry explained. "It’s a children’s story, Harry.

My Gran used to read it to me," Neville said. "Haven’t you realized by now that everything written down…?"

"What happened at one point?

Everyone acts like Muggles, disbelieving everything all of a sudden," Harry said. "The three brothers were my ancestors; the story is based on the tale of the Peverell brothers, which is at the very top of my family tree.

That’s where my cloak of invisibility came from."

Neville still looked a bit skeptical. "There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight.

Eventually, they reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were skilled in the magical arts, so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water.

They were halfway across when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure," Harry said, his voice commanding attention. "And Death spoke to them.

He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, as travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning.

He pretended to congratulate the three brothers on their magic and said that each had earned a prize

the youngest brother was asked what he would like. The youngest brother, the humblest and wisest of the three, didn't trust Death.

So, he requested something that would allow him to leave that place without being followed. Reluctantly, Death handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.

Then, Death stepped aside and let the three brothers continue on their journey, marveling at the adventure they had experienced and admiring Death's gifts," Harry finished. "Yes, then the elder brother killed someone with the wand and boasted about his invincibility, only to be murdered in his sleep—the wand taken by his killer," Neville added.

"The only item that didn’t stay in the family," Harry said quietly. He closed the book of beadle and bard tales, not entirely sure why, but he loved these stories.

Perhaps it was because he hadn’t had the chance to hear them as a child. "Alright… convince me," Neville said, his convictions wavering.

"Ignotus Peverell is my direct ancestor; he was the one who received the cloak," Harry said, handing over his precious heirloom. "Look at it!

It still looks brand new, and it's been in my family for generations. I saw Moody’s cloak, and it’s faded."

"Okay," Neville replied.

"But what if the three brothers actually created the items themselves and added Death just to make it more adventurous?"

"The Resurrection Stone belonged to the Gaunt family, which eventually connected with the Slytherin line. They all had the ability to speak to snakes," Harry explained.

He was about to acknowledge Neville's point when Neville spoke up, distracting him. "No!

You mean You-Know-Who has it?" Neville exclaimed, astonished. "He used it to create a Horcrux," Harry whispered, as if worried someone might overhear.

"It’s gone now; I destroyed it."

"Luna would love this!" Neville said, amazed. She had been right all along!

He could hardly believe it. "You know..."

“How is Ollivander gone?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.

“It’s been months now. He’s probably gone,” Neville replied sadly.

He remembered how terrified he had been of the wizard when they first met. In fact, he had been scared of everyone—even his own shadow—back then.

“No, Voldemort has been looking for the Elder Wand, the most powerful wand in existence,” Harry explained with a weary sigh. “Why?” Neville questioned.

The wizard was frightening and powerful; why would he want a wand, even if it was the most powerful one? “When I was Portkeyed with Cedric out of the maze, I had to duel him,” Harry confessed, deliberately ignoring the wide, terrified eyes of the boy in front of him.

You’d think he’d feel a bit better after having faced the monster last year. “Not that it was much of a duel.

I didn’t know much at the time. I cast the disarming spell, and he fired Avada Kedavra.

The spells met in the middle, and something strange happened. A magnificent golden dome surrounded us, phoenixes began to sing, and we were lifted off our feet.

Then the people he had killed started to emerge from his wand… including my parents.”

“Oh Merlin!” Neville exclaimed, realizing how terrifying that must have been for Harry. He suddenly understood he was one of the few who knew what had happened that night.

“You see, our wands were the same, brothers, both made with phoenix feathers from Fawkes,” Harry continued. “Every time we fight, that’s what happens—we can’t fight each other.”

“So that’s why he’s after the Elder Wand?” Neville asked, piecing it together.

“How do you know all this?”

“Didn’t you read the newspaper? Gregorovitch is dead.

He was tortured to death. They were trying to get information on who had the wand,” Harry replied.

“The German wand maker? Why would he know about it?” Neville asked, curiosity piqued.

“Why else? They bragged about having the stupid wand,” Harry said, shaking his head in irritation.

“He was also trying to duplicate its powers… but we don’t know any more than that.”

"We?" Neville asked, looking surprised. "Yeah.

I've been trying to find out who has it now... before Voldemort catches up with them.

He already has a head start with Gregorovitch since we have no idea what he revealed before they killed him," Harry explained. "Want me to ask my Gran?" Neville offered.

"No, you said she believed Dumbledore. What if she tells him?" Harry responded quickly.

“She doesn’t talk to him on a daily basis. She never even joined the Order when my parents did,” Neville pointed out.

“Whoa, you know about the Order?” Harry said, his eyes wide with surprise. “Of course I do,” Neville replied.

“It may not seem like it, but my Gran does care most of the time.”

“I didn’t say she didn’t, Nev,” Harry said seriously. “So, should I ask?

She might know some rumors,” Neville suggested. Harry bit his lip thoughtfully.

Was it a risk he was prepared to take? His Gran had to be around Dumbledore’s age—at least eighty or ninety years old.

She might know something, and he wasn’t getting anywhere with his searches on the wand, at least nothing conclusive. He had only a few more pages to flip through before he was done.

He had traced the path of nine wizards who had owned the wand at some point, with large gaps where it seemed to fade out of existence. “Go on then, but don’t let her know anything else,” Harry said.

“I won’t,” Neville promised solemnly. “Alright,” Harry agreed.

“Elder wand… I assume it was created from an Elderberry tree?”

“Um, must have been,” Harry replied, realizing he hadn’t really thought about that. “It certainly will be one of a kind then, recognizable,” Neville remarked.

“It would have to be; otherwise, nobody would know if they had it or not,” Harry pointed out. “Has there ever been a picture of it?” Neville asked.

“Not that I can find,” Harry admitted. “Gregorovitch...

so a wizard or witch that has been to Germany and come back here?” Neville speculated. “Not necessarily.

The wand could be anywhere. I’ve not been able to place it,” Harry said, his frustration evident.

“Since Gregorovitch,” Harry said, slumping in his seat. He couldn’t shake the thought from his mind, not after seeing Severus’s terrified reaction.

The prophecy hadn’t even fazed him. “For all I know, it’s still in Germany.”

“Yeah, that’s a dilemma,” Neville admitted thoughtfully.

“Yup,” Harry agreed, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Granger got both of us thrown out of the bloody library.”

“She did?” Neville asked, his eyes wide.

Hermione Granger, a bookworm, kicked out of the library? There was a first for everything.

“Yeah, but hopefully I got through to her,” Harry said, frowning. He didn’t want to keep yelling at her.

Part of him felt sorry for her; it was obvious she liked Ron, while he was too infatuated with Lavender Brown to notice. Then again, Ron wouldn’t notice anything in front of him unless it was food.

“So, is that why you got an extra wand? Because of the twin wand core thing?” Neville asked.

Harry twitched, surprised that Neville had caught on. How had he figured it out?

If Neville knew, maybe Dumbledore did too, and that thought was hard to accept. “How and when did you find out?” Harry asked.

“The shower,” Neville replied simply. “You had a white pattern where a calf wand holder would be.” It was right after the summer holidays, and Harry had been tanned everywhere else except for his wrist and calf.

“You also had one on your wrist, which means you have two wands. Nobody goes around with a spare holster attached somewhere.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Harry asked, still surprised.

“Actually, I was more interested in your ‘tattoo,’” Neville said, smirking mischievously. He knew it wasn’t a tattoo; he had found the book.

Well, it was a tattoo when it was on him, but a familiar when it was off. He had thought he was going crazy when he noticed it missing one time while they were getting ready for bed.

Harry grinned sheepishly, already realizing that Neville had figured out what was really going on. "It really was," Harry thought, although he suspected Neville might have mistaken it for a snake.

He wasn't about to reveal what Zar truly was. If Neville found out it was a Basilisk, he would freak out.

After all, this creature could kill with a single glance. Despite that, Harry felt proud that Zar hadn't harmed anyone; he was a good Basilisk.

Any creature would respond well to kindness, but if you hurt them, they would eventually retaliate, and the consequences could be fatal. "I have to go.

I'll talk to you later," Harry said, realizing how late it had gotten. "Okay, I'll go write to Gran," Neville replied.

"Bye," Harry said as they parted ways. Neville echoed his goodbye until they were out of sight of each other.

---

"Everything alright?" Severus asked, noticing that Harry looked like he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. He kept his own struggles to himself, knowing he was in the same boat.

"Not really," Harry admitted quietly as he removed his shoes and sat down, his cloak already hanging on a peg. "I can’t find any more information… it’s as if it disappeared off the face of the earth when Gregorovitch got his hands on it."

"Perhaps it did," Severus replied.

"Viktor Krum got his wand from Gregorovitch. I wonder if he knows more about him than we do?" 

Harry's desperation grew.

"Do you know anything about Ollivander?" 

"Good point," Severus said seriously. "Do you know any other wandmakers?" 

"I do not," Severus replied.

"I've already tried that path." If one wandmaker might know the legend, perhaps others did, but he hadn’t found anyone who could shed light on it. "Do the Germans have their own version of a magical newspaper?" Harry asked curiously.

"I have no idea," Severus replied thoughtfully. It was a good question.

Sighing, Harry got up and moved toward the fireplace, settling onto the large, fluffy rug. He emptied the contents of his bag onto the floor, spreading out the copied newspaper.

Harry began to meticulously organize his belongings by date, a task that took longer than he expected. Half an hour later, he finally had everything in order, neatly arranged between his legs.

“Here,” Severus said, handing him a cup of coffee before returning to his seat. “Thanks,” Harry replied with a brief smile before diving back into his work.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and he froze, too stunned to move. He narrowed his eyes at Draco Malfoy, disgust curling his lip.

He bit his tongue, remembering his promise to Severus to keep quiet. Turning back to his newspaper, he tried to ignore the stunned boy, acting as if Draco wasn’t even there.

“Come in, Draco,” Severus said, exasperation creeping into his voice. “I can come back…” Draco offered awkwardly, glancing between them in confusion.

He hadn’t realized his godfather was so close with Potter, and it made his stomach churn with jealousy. Severus was his godfather, not Potter’s—why was he getting so cozy with him?

It wasn’t fair. “Sit down,” Severus instructed, his eyes narrowing to show he was losing patience.

Draco moved forward, almost shoving Harry's feet aside, and in the process, one of Harry’s journals was kicked. A page about the locket and the cup fluttered out, landing at Draco's feet.

He looked down, and the sneer on his face vanished, leaving him paler than even Severus. “Why do you have this picture in your journal, Potter?” Draco sneered, or at least he tried; it didn’t come out quite as forceful as he intended.

“It’s not a diary, it’s a journal,” Harry snapped, scooping both items up. “Enough.

There’s a war going on outside, and I don’t want to start one in here,” Severus warned them both. “I’d respond to that, but it would just make you mad,” Harry said pointedly.

“You’ve never held back, so why start now?” Severus replied with a sardonic tone. Harry narrowed his eyes, debating whether he should say something.

“Sirius Black. It’s not as easy as you think...”

“Think about putting aside your animosity,” Harry said softly.

“Touché,” Severus conceded, realizing he had never considered it that way before. Perhaps Harry was right; his godson and the boy he thought of as a son might never get along.

Black had nearly killed him, and Draco had cast an equivalent of an Unforgivable. “Why did you ask about the picture?” Severus wondered, trying to figure out if Draco was referring to the locket or the cup.

Draco shook his head, clearly not in a sharing mood. “Draco, you swore to be completely truthful.

If you go back on that, I will withdraw my help,” Severus said, his tone stern but with a hint of kindness. “I’ll tell you,” Draco replied childishly.

“Draco,” Severus growled, reaching the end of his patience with both of them. “I’ve seen it before,” Draco admitted.

“The locket?” Severus asked, since it had been in the Black family, it wouldn’t surprise him. “No, the cup,” Draco replied.

“Where?” Severus and Harry insisted in unison. “Well, I didn’t see it exactly; I more like glimpsed it,” Draco said, looking trapped.

“Who taught you Occlumency?” Severus asked, understanding immediately. “My aunt,” Draco said quietly.

Harry snorted. How could Malfoy lecture him about knowing Sirius when he was with his insane aunt, Bellatrix?

That family was so messed up. He arched an eyebrow, unfazed by the glare Draco shot his way.

“Draco, this is important. Where did you see it?

Did you recognize the area?” Severus asked urgently. Unbelievably, another Horcrux was just landing in their laps, though thankfully Draco didn’t seem to grasp the significance of what he was revealing.

With a bit of luck, he never would. Draco didn’t have the stomach to learn the lengths that the Dark Lord had gone to in order to achieve immortality.

He didn’t even have the nerve to conceal the spell he had used on Harry; he was not Death Eater material. “Gringotts, why?” Draco asked.

Draco was perplexed by his godfather's odd behavior. “Great,” Harry groaned.

“Just how the hell are we supposed to get into Gringotts of all places? It’s impenetrable… wait, no it isn’t.

Quirrellmort managed to get in somehow. They got into the vault and disappeared without a trace.

Sure, they hadn’t succeeded, but that was only because Dumbledore had removed it. At least we have another Horcrux, even if we’re failing to find the wand.”

“Why?” Draco asked, confused by their reactions.

What was he missing? “It’s of no consequence,” Severus replied flippantly.

“Right,” Draco said, his doubt audible enough to echo throughout the entire Ministry of Magic building. Harry rolled his eyes and began flipping through the newspapers.

There was nothing they could do about the Horcrux tonight anyway. He was more interested in uncovering information about the Elder Wand, although he doubted he would find anything new.

For three weeks, he had been unsuccessful, and these were the last batch of newspapers he would read. He tried not to eavesdrop on Draco’s conversation with Severus, but some of it filtered through.

Draco was asking if Severus had come up with a plan to help his mother yet. Harry felt a twist in his heart; he would have done anything for his mum, too.

They shared that in common, but as far as he was concerned, that was where their similarities ended. “I have two ideas, both will require swift action and even greater acting,” Severus said, implying it wouldn’t just be on Draco’s part but on Harry’s as well.

“What?” Draco asked, hopeful. “I need to iron out the details, but don’t worry.

I’ll let you know when the time is right,” Severus said seriously. “Alright,” Draco agreed reluctantly.