PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: MyGinevra

Story: Losing Each Other

Part: 08: The Chudley Cannons

Rating: Young Teens

Status: Completed

Warning: None

Reviews: 8

Words: 5,158

Updated: May 17, 2009, 3:50pm

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08: The Chudley Cannons

When Ginny got outside she saw that it would not be easy to find Harry. The Dementors' mist had closed in, and she could see only a few yards in front of her. She considered whether to wait until lunchtime, but decided that if Harry was as upset as Ron said, she wanted to talk to him now. She headed toward the lake, walking slowly through the fog.

She came to the edge of the water and didn’t know what to do. She could go the wrong way and miss him completely, or she could go the right way and still miss him completely. As she stood uncertainly, she heard a rush of wings, and a large white owl emerged out of the mist, hooting loudly. “Hedwig!” Ginny called. “Where’s Harry?”

Hedwig disappeared to the left and Ginny followed. She could hear Hedwig hooting, and every few seconds the owl circled back and appeared dimly overhead, then flew off again in the same direction. They circled the lake until a white object loomed, and Hedwig alighted on Dumbledore’s Tomb. Ginny saw Harry sitting with his back against the Tomb, throwing pebbles into the lake. He looked up at Ginny and scrambled to his feet.

“Harry,” Ginny said.

“Ginny, I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I say things and as soon as they’re out of my mouth I wish I hadn’t said them. I don’t want to fight.”

“Then we won’t.”

Harry walked to the water’s edge. He threw a pebble into the lake; they couldn’t see in the thick fog where it landed, but they heard the soft plop. Ginny came and stood next to him.

“I do trust you,” he said, looking out at the featureless fog. “It’s myself I don’t trust. Things scare me and I don’t know what I would do if something scary happened and you were there. I think a lot about when they caught us in that room with the prophecy. Do you remember? They wanted to hurt you first. Not because you were my girlfriend, but because you were the youngest.” He threw another pebble and they heard another plop.

“We got out.”

“Yeah. But I can’t help thinking about it.” Another pebble hit the water. “Ginny, do you know how many people who were close to me have died?” Another pebble. “Do you see why I’m scared?”

“I’ve known for a long time why you’re scared.” Ginny was trying to keep her voice steady. This had become another disconcerting conversation with Harry.

“I shouldn’t have said anything about Horcruxes. It slipped out. When you came running up to me in the corridor it was too much like... like last year in the common room when you... Anyway, it’s another thing I’m sorry about.”

“Just so you know, I’m not sorry you said it.” Now she had lost control of her voice. She said tremulously, “I keep on saying that it’s okay when you push me away, but it isn’t.” She looked at him and her eyes blazed. “But I also meant what I said about doing it for you, and I will do whatever I can to help you. If I can’t be with you, then so be it.”

A louder splash came from the lake, and Ginny felt a familiar sensation: eyes from afar seeing inside her head. Harry peered at the water, his wand in his hand.

“It’s okay.” Ginny pushed his wand down. “Don’t point your wand. Wait.”

The mermaid appeared out of the fog, very close to shore. It swam within a few yards of them and stopped. It gazed at them for a moment, then slowly turned away and disappeared back into the murk. They did not move until Ginny noticed that she was clutching Harry’s arm. She quickly pulled her hand away. Harry glanced at her and then back at the lake.

“What was that about?” he wondered. “Did you ever see anything like it?”

“Um, I don’t think so,” Ginny mumbled. “Can we go back? It must be close to lunch time.”

“Yes, let’s go. That was very strange. Hedwig!” he called.

As they passed the Tomb, Ginny noticed something lying on top of it: a small, brown lump; it was a dead mouse. She laughed. “Look! Hedwig left a little gift.”

Harry chuckled. “She’s done that before. But there’s never anything left when we come back. I guess something else eats it.”

“Do you come here often?” Ginny asked as they followed the lake shore back to the lawn.

Harry nodded. “A lot. But I never saw a mermaid before.” He looked at Ginny again. “Did it come because of you? Why did you tell me to put my wand down?”

Ginny hoped that Harry couldn’t see her blush. “Why would it want me?” She forced a laugh. “It must have come to see the famous Harry Potter.”

Harry did not laugh, or even smile. “I guess that was it.” They walked the rest of the way to the castle in silence.

The next few days were uneventful, to Ginny’s relief. She had a lot to sort out: how to keep herself from saying stupid things to Harry; where she stood with Harry; where Harry stood with her; getting her mind around the idea that something as gruesome as a Horcrux existed; and mermaids again. Not to mention the loads of homework that all the teachers continued to assign. There was one thing to look forward to, though: Quidditch practices were about to begin.

The evening before the first practice, Ginny was alone in the common room when Ron came in the portrait hole. He had been in the library with Hermione, who was still trying to penetrate the intentions of the Sorting Hat.

“Where’s Harry?” Ginny asked as Ron sat down at the table where she was working; it was covered with piles of books for a parchment she was writing on snake venoms and their uses. “I haven’t seen him tonight.”

“He’s spending extra time with Flitwick. There are some charms that he can’t do anymore.” Ron did not look happy.

“Still?” Ginny exclaimed; she put down her quill. “What’s happening? I thought that if he could fly so well again that meant he was okay.”

“It’s weird. We went down to the pitch right after dinner and he did great. But other stuff like his spells have got worse, if anything. I dunno, Ginny. What did you say to him by the lake? He was kinda quiet afterward.”

“I told him I would do whatever he wanted. Again. I thought we had a good talk, even though he was a little morbid. He mentioned all the people he knew who have died.”

Ron grunted. “He gets that way sometimes. Well...” He got up. “I’m going to bed. I can imagine how Hooch is going to work us. You ought to get some sleep, too.”

Ginny stayed up, as much to wait for Harry as to finish her parchment. He and Hermione finally stepped through the portrait hole together just before midnight. Ginny recognized the look on his face; she had seen it at the Burrow the morning of the trio’s return from the Horcrux hunt: haggard and exhausted. He glanced around the common room, and instead of going to the chairs in front of the fireplace, he walked over to Ginny’s table; Hermione followed.

“Harry, you look tired,” Ginny said.

He heaved a sigh. “I am. I was in Professor Flitwick’s office all evening.”

“Oh.” Did that mean he wanted to talk about it?

Hermione gave Ginny a look. “I think I’ll be going to bed,” she announced. “See you tomorrow.”

They watched her disappear up the stairs, then Harry sat down next to Ginny and looked at the scattered heaps of books and scrolls. “Potions?” He picked up Ginny’s copy of Advanced Potion Making. “There’s nothing written in the margins, is there?” he grinned.

“No.” Ginny smiled back. “No half–blood princesses.”

Harry laughed, and for a moment he didn’t seem so worn. “Good. The prince got me into more trouble than he was worth.”

The room was quiet; it was empty except for themselves and a third–year boy who had fallen asleep in a chair under a window. Harry glanced at another book, picked up a parchment that Ginny had written on, then put it down. He did not speak.

“Harry,” Ginny said quietly, “did you want to talk about Professor Flitwick?”

Harry picked up a quill and fiddled with it. Then he reached into his belt and pulled out his wand and placed it on the table. “Holly, eleven inches, tail feather of Fawkes.” He sounded as though he was reciting a recipe. “Something’s happened, Ginny. I suppose Ron or Hermione told you. I thought that Flitwick could tell me if I’m doing something wrong, or if something happened to my wand.” He looked at her. “Some of my spells don’t work.”

“I know.” Ginny wanted to sound reassuring, but she wasn’t sure how to do it in the circumstances. She also wanted to hold his hand and caress his face and tell him that everything would be fine, but she did not know how to do that in the circumstances, either.

Harry twirled his wand. “Professor Flitwick said that all my incantations and movements are good, and he tried the wand and it worked perfectly. He said that I should go see Madam Pomfrey, but I don’t know what she could tell me. I wish Sirius was alive.”

He bowed his head and peered at the wand, but Ginny knew that he was not seeing it. There was darkness about him, a black cloud blocking the light. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

She put her hand on his arm. He didn’t look at it, but he didn’t move his arm away. He gave a long, loud sigh and raised his head. His eyes wandered over her face, and Ginny thought that he was going to kiss her, but the moment slipped away. He moved his arm and she let it go.

“This is so hard,” he muttered. “I hate Voldemort!” He slammed his fist on the table and a pile of books toppled to the floor. The student at the other end of the room sat up, startled.

“I’m sorry.” Harry got down onto the floor and put the books back on the table. He stood up.

“Go get some sleep, Harry,” Ginny said. “It’s late. We have practice tomorrow.”

Harry smiled, and the darkness lifted. “Right. We’ll have to work on some tactics to get your lion involved.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Ginny did not have to fake her enthusiasm. “See you in the morning.”

“‘Night.” He walked slowly away. At the bottom of the stairs he stopped and looked back. She smiled, and he turned and went up.

Ginny finally finished her parchment and cleaned up the table. She wearily climbed to her room, fed and watered her Pygmy Puffs, and fell into bed. But she could not sleep. She felt strangely both disheartened and encouraged. Harry was having more and more trouble fighting himself, and his torment was hard to watch. But there was no longer any doubt that his feelings for her had not changed, as she had feared at the end of the summer. With that thought shimmering in her mind, she finally fell asleep.

The Hogwarts Quidditch team held its first practice after classes the next day. Professor Flitwick appeared and cast a weather spell that cleared the Dementors mist from the pitch. “That was harder than getting rid of your brothers’ swamp,” he squeaked to Ginny who was standing nearby.

But the charm worked, and the team kicked off into the air. Madam Hooch put them through several rigorous drills, both defensive and offensive, and by the time she had finished with them everyone was tired and in high spirits. Ginny discovered that she worked well with the other Chasers, Elspeth Pendragon and Erskine Labine, the fifth–year from Ravenclaw. Ginny was especially glad to see how well Harry was flying. Whatever had happened last summer at the Burrow when he could not control his broomstick, was not affecting him now. She thought hard about it, and remembered the hurt in his eyes when she had told him about her meeting with Dean Thomas. She was sure that whatever was behind that look was also behind the problem he had flying.

The dressing room afterward was boisterous. The two Hufflepuff Beaters, Thurmond Thumpel and Carlotta Romani, performed a harmonic duet of the Chudley Cannons fight song, which Ron joined in until his off–key singing provoked everyone to beat him into silence with their towels. On their way back to the castle, students called out to them and clapped as they passed. Ginny walked with Harry and Ron.

“We can’t use the golden lion trick if the sun isn’t out,” Harry observed, looking up at the low–hanging fog.

“Then it all depends on your talent.” Ginny grinned and put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t bet against you, you were brilliant out there.”

“Well, it’s a lot harder in a match.” He tried unsuccessfully to sound modest, and he did not object to where her hand was.

Ginny watched Elspeth Pendragon walking ahead of them, talking with the two Hufflepuffs. “Did you see her dad when he was here to take her to her mum’s grave?” she asked Ron. “He looked familiar. I wonder if he works at the Ministry.”

“I didn’t see him,” Ron replied. He lowered his voice, so that only Ginny and Harry could hear. “You know, I was wondering if she could get us into the Slytherin common room. We haven’t been there since our second year, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something, um, of interest there.”

Harry frowned. “I’ve thought about using my cloak, but I won’t ask her to help us. That would be a betrayal of her own House. I wouldn’t ask anyone to do that.”

“Well, I would,” Ron growled. “I bet we could have found out about the attack on the train last spring.”

“Maybe, but I still wouldn’t ask her to do it.”

Ginny wanted to tell Harry that he was right, but thought it best for now if she kept her counsel about the Horcrux hunt.

The days and weeks passed and the weather grew worse and Harry’s mood got better. He began to include Ginny in their conversations about Voldemort and the Horcruxes. Ginny was not sure if that had anything to do with his improved mental state, but his spells did start to work a little better. And his flying was superb. He was unstoppable in practice, even while playing Chaser when Madam Hooch wanted to give Elspeth some time at Seeker. He was able to score almost at will against Ron, who had little trouble stopping the other Chasers. It didn’t seem to bother Ron, though.

“I figure the Cannons will be at least as much trouble as you are, mate,” he reasoned as they headed back to the castle after an early November practice; they could barely see each other in the fog and dusk. “So keep it coming. The more you score on me the less it will bother me when they do.”

Ginny was walking between him and Harry. “It’s good to see you so optimistic,” she quipped. “A Keeper’s attitude is so important to the team.”

“Well, that’s my attitude. You play Keeper if you think it’s a problem. You’ve got two weeks to learn the position.”

Elspeth was walking in front of them with the two Beaters, hugging her arm to her side. Carlotta had caught her in the shoulder with a well–aimed Bludger, and was helping her along.

“Elspeth, how’s your arm?” Ginny called.

“It’ll be fine,” the girl answered. “I’ve been hurt worse.”

“Playing Quidditch?” Ginny asked.

Elspeth stopped and let the others catch up; Carlotta kept her arm around Elspeth’s waist.

“No,” Elspeth replied as they all walked together. “It was a magical thing. I was little and there was a jinx of some kind and it hit my arm. All I can remember is how bad it hurt. Dad took me to St. Mungo’s and I had to stay there for a week.” She giggled. “They gave me lots of sweets.”

“How did it happen? Who would use a jinx on a little girl?” Ginny was indignant.

They were walking up the steps to the castle, and Elspeth hesitated. “It happened when we were visiting my mum’s grave. I don’t remember anything else.”

Ginny did not want to press Elspeth to talk about it, so she dropped it. The team parted in the entrance hall and they all headed to their own common rooms. Ginny hurried upstairs to change out of her Quidditch robes, and then she went back down to meet Harry, Ron and Hermione; they had been meeting regularly in front of the fireplace to talk about the Horcrux hunt.

Harry and Ron were already there, but Hermione was missing, and Ron was annoyed. “She’s in the bloody library. She never spent so much time there even before O.W.L.s. What could be so important about the Sorting Hat?”

“Well, here she is,” Ginny said as Hermione came through the portrait hole.

“How’s the Hat plot coming along?” Ron asked.

“I’m not researching the Sorting Hat anymore,” Hermione answered. “There’s almost nothing written about it, anyway. I’m looking up something else.”

“What is it?” Harry wanted to know. “Does it have anything to do with Merope Gaunt’s grave?”

“Can’t say yet.”

“I don’t like sitting around doing nothing,” Harry declared. “The Dementors are getting stronger, if that fog’s any indication, which means that Voldemort’s getting stronger. I’d just like to get it over with.”

Ginny squirmed in her chair but said nothing.

Ron spoke. “I’ve been doing some thinking about how to get rid of Horcruxes. Dumbledore lost his arm, but we keep forgetting that Harry destroyed one without getting hurt.”

“I’ve thought about that, too,” Hermione said, “but it’s different. The diary was a Horcrux that Riddle made when he was still rather young and not as powerful as he became later. And Harry needed a pretty strong magical object to destroy it. I don’t think we’ll find many basilisk fangs lying around a graveyard.”

“Of course it’s different,” Ron countered, “but that just shows that they all might be different. We don’t have to assume that you’ll lose an arm or a leg when you destroy one.”

“You shouldn’t assume the opposite, either,” Ginny put in. She used the word “you” deliberately; she had noticed that Harry was bothered when she said “we” in their conversations.

They went back and forth for several minutes, but as usual resolved nothing. The conversation drifted to the upcoming Quidditch match, and then to the Christmas holidays. Ron and Ginny were pressing Harry to come to the Burrow, but he would not commit himself. Ginny didn’t like that; if he stayed at Hogwarts there would be no one to keep him from going off on his own. But it was still over a month away, so she tried not to be concerned about it yet. The conversation finally petered out and they all went to bed or off to study.

The final two weeks before the first match flew by. The team felt more and more confident with each practice, and the rest of the school caught their mood. Banners appeared in the Great Hall and in the corridors: “Hogwarts United,” “Potter Rules,” “Romani Is Regal,” and “Weasley Is Our King” were the most popular.

The Chudley Cannons arrived Friday afternoon before the match and joined the rest of the school for dinner. They sat at the Slytherin table, since it was almost empty, and the Hogwarts team sat with them. Most of the Slytherins looked at them all coldly, but one or two spoke to Elspeth and seemed interested in the Cannons.

Ron, on the other hand, was in seventh heaven. He never stopped talking about the team, its record, its history, its uniform robes, its players, its stadium, its tactics, its prospects for next season, and on and on. He sat next to the Cannons’ Keeper, a tall, sandy–haired wizard named Byron “Broomstick” Bailey. All the players had nicknames, it turned out; Forrester Salinger, the Seeker, was known as “Fingers” for his long, slender, bony hands.

All of the Cannon players were curious about Harry, but they kept their questions and conversation with him to the subject of flying. They seemed to know a lot about him, for instance that he had never flown until he was eleven, which was a late start for a Quidditch player; most of the Cannons had got their first brooms when they were toddlers. Ginny, who was sitting across from Harry, noticed that the players’ eyes occasionally strayed to Harry’s scar, but no one mentioned You–Know–Who.

The meal and the evening passed very pleasantly, and the next morning the whole school was in state of suspenseful anticipation. The team members ate breakfast at their House tables, then left for the stadium. The dressing room was quiet as they changed into their Hogwarts robes. Ginny was nervous and had to ask Carlotta to put her golden lion clip in her hair because her hands were so sweaty. Madam Hooch gave them one final pep talk.

“Don’t worry about mistakes,” she said. “They happen. Think about what we practiced and think about your teammates and your school, and you’ll be fine. The main thing is to have fun.”

“Fun?” Ginny muttered to Ron, who was sitting next to her. “What’s wrong with winning?”

“Nothing’s wrong with winning, Miss Weasley.” Madam Hooch had heard her. “But there’s also nothing wrong with giving your best and, as I said, having fun.” Ginny thought it sounded like Hooch was bracing them for the worst.

When the team appeared on the pitch, they were met by a wave of shouts and cheers. The stadium was full; there were not only students, but their families, former students, Ministry officials, and a large number of Aurors. The Cannons were already out in their brilliant orange robes, zipping around the stadium on their broomsticks. Once again a weather charm was keeping the Dementors' mist high above the pitch. The referee, an official from the English–Irish League, blew his whistle and the teams gathered around. He released the balls, blew his whistle again, and the match began.

It was a painful disaster for the Hogwarts team. Time and again the Chasers were ridden off the Quaffle by Cannon players who seemed to know exactly where their opponents wanted to go. Thurmond and Carlotta’s Bludgers were almost always easily dodged, but the ones hit by the Cannon Beaters always found their marks. Soon Ginny’s face was bloody and Erskine and Elspeth were nursing bruised arms and shoulders.

Ron was spectacular, making save after acrobatic save, but even he could not completely stop the waves of Cannon attackers that swarmed the goals. By the time it was seventy to nothing Ron was screaming and cursing at every opponent who came near him. He made another save, and managed to pass the Quaffle off to Ginny, who had circled back to help. Ginny bent as low over her broomstick as she could and streaked for the other end of the pitch. A Cannon Beater moved in, but Erskine bumped his bat and the Bludger flew wide. Ginny closed in on the goal, and at the last possible moment she passed to Elspeth whose shot beat the Keeper but clanged off the hoop, inches from a score.

Elspeth swore, and Ginny, despite total frustration, laughed. She had never heard the girl say anything less polite than “sorry.” “We’ll get the next one!” she shouted over the crowd noise. Elspeth grimaced and massaged her throwing hand, which to Ginny’s eye looked like it might be broken.

Meanwhile, Harry was circling under the dome of fog desperately looking for the Golden Snitch. Forrester Salinger was content to shadow him from above. Harry could not shake him, no matter how he tried. He knew what Salinger was doing: if Harry spotted the Snitch first, Salinger figured that he would be fast enough to overtake him. The only chance Harry had was to decoy him.

He finally saw the Snitch, right after Elspeth’s near–miss; it was hovering near the Cannons’ goal. He started to spiral down, trying to look like he was still searching. Suddenly there was a piercing, high–pitched call that could be heard over the noise of the crowd; it came from the Cannons' Keeper. Salinger dove past Harry at a speed that astonished him, and he realized that the cry was a signal. He dove too late, and Salinger grabbed the Snitch while Harry was still twenty yards away.

It was a dazed, battered, and angry team that staggered into the Hogwarts dressing room. Harry was the only one who was not injured, but he was furious. Ginny threw her broom against the wall and kicked it when it rebounded, flew back, and landed at her feet. Ron stormed around the room, swearing with more originality than Ginny had ever heard from him. When Madam Hooch entered with Professor McGonagall she had to blow her whistle to get their attention.

Ginny spoke before Hooch could open her mouth. “I guess we’ll be having even more fun in the hospital wing tonight,” she snarled. She kicked her broom again, and McGonagall had to jump to avoid it.

“Miss Weasley, that is quite enough,” the Headmistress scolded. “You were beaten by a professional team, but think about it, you held your own. You lost, but I assure you that you earned their respect and the respect of everyone in the stadium.”

“What about that signal?” Harry said angrily. “I had a shot at the Snitch until the bloody Keeper tipped him off. That’s illegal. The referee should have called it.”

“Technically, yes,” Hooch replied. “But that’s the way the game is played by professionals. It’s their livelihood and they do what’s necessary to win.”

Harry looked at Ginny. “Then next time we’ll have our own little trick, right?” Ginny nodded. Then Harry stood and turned to the teachers. “We’d like to be alone, if you don’t mind.”

McGonagall considered him. “Very well, but all of you are to report to the hospital wing before lunch. Including you, Mr. Potter.” They left.

The team looked at Harry. He walked over to Ginny and she undid her clip and handed it to him. He held it up. “This will glint in the sun just like the Snitch. I don’t know how we can do it with this damned fog, but we’ll figure out something.” He looked at them. “Besides, now we know what we’re facing.” They all started speaking at once.

“We’ll get our brooms souped up!” “We need more passing drills!” “Hooch is too hung up on defense!” “That ref was totally biased!”

Harry held up his hand. “That’s all true. But we need some real opposition when we practice.” He turned to Ron. “Find out if any of your brothers can help us. Does anyone else have a relative or friend who played here?”

Erskine had a brother and Carlotta a sister who had played Quidditch at Hogwarts, and Carlotta’s sister had played professionally for two years. “I’ll owl her this afternoon,” she said.

“My dad coached a team for a while,” Elspeth chimed in. “I think he might really like to help.”

“Okay!” Harry clapped his hands. “We can do this! We had some good scoring chances, and I still think I would have caught the Snitch. I don’t see any reason why we can’t win at least one match.”

“What about Hooch?” Ron asked. “She won’t like it if we bring in outsiders to coach us.”

“Then the hell with her!” Ginny snapped. “She can stay in a broom cupboard and have as much fun as she wants. I didn’t like being pushed around. I’m with Harry.”

The others all murmured their assent, and Ron waved his hand. “I was just asking. It’s fine with me.”

A short time later the team filed out of the stadium, and they found a crowd of students waiting. Cheers went up. “Get ‘em next time!” someone called, and there were more shouts. Hermione pushed through and, to applause and whistles, grabbed Ron and kissed him on the lips. “The king!” she proclaimed. “You were brilliant!”

Ron turned a fiery red, but did not object to either the cheers or the kiss. They passed through the throng, and as they walked up the lawn, Hermione pulled Harry back. “We have to talk right away,” she whispered. “Bring Ginny up to the common room.”

She said no more, but hurried ahead with Ron in tow. Harry looked for Ginny, who was with the two other Chasers, and he beckoned to her. “Hermione says to come up to the common room. Right away.”

They left the team and the crowd of fans and followed Ron and Hermione. When they came through the portrait hole, the two were sitting down in front of the fireplace. Harry and Ginny joined them, and Hermione leaned forward with a glint in her eye.

“I know we’re all careful about what we say to other people, but now we have to be extra–careful. I’ve been tracking down Elspeth Pendragon’s ancestry, and —”

“I thought you already did that?” Harry interrupted.

“I did, but I went back to it after I gave up on the Sorting Hat. At first I was just interested in whether her ancestors actually knew Merlin. But then Ron told me something that Elspeth said, and I decided to look at it from a slightly different angle. I told you that she’s descended from a very old wizarding family from Cornwall, but that’s on her father’s side. What I’ve been researching for the last week is on her mother’s side.”

She paused. The others looked at her expectantly.

“On her mother’s side,” Hermione continued, “she’s also pure–blood as far back as I could find. But not quite so far back, I found a very interesting connection.” She paused again.

“Come on,” Ron urged impatiently. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

Hermione smiled. “Okay. Here it is. Elspeth Pendragon’s great–great–grandmother was the great aunt of Merope Gaunt.”

They stared at her. Ginny felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She spoke hoarsely. “And the jinx that hit Elspeth when she was visiting her mum’s grave as a child must be there—”

“To protect Merope’s grave,” Hermione finished. “Voldemort and Elspeth are cousins. Voldemort’s mother is buried near Elspeth’s mother. And there’s a Horcrux in the grave.”

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