Chapters 181-190

Dyrim

At last Harry and Severus sat down a few feet away from the stone. After some arguing, Severus grudgingly agreed that it was unlikely for something awful to happen if Harry were to remove just his left arm from the Invisibility Cloak so that Hedwig could sit with him. The materialised soul of Harry’s owl seemed to feel that she had done her job at the moment and didn’t show any inclination to lead them anywhere else. She seemed content to coo at Harry soundlessly and to nip at his fingers affectionately.

‘Hedwig seems to think that this is where we wanted to go,’ Harry said, eyeing the broken Resurrection Stone morosely.

‘Maybe the Stone is the key…or an anchor to a spell,’ Severus surmised.

‘Yeah,’ Harry nodded. ‘Believe it or not, but that thought has crossed my mind, too. So what do we do now? The Stone won’t budge.’

‘We could try to Summon another soul. This time preferably someone who could tell us what happened to Albus Dumbledore’s soul,’ Snape said with a pointed look at Hedwig. ‘Not even I can bestow speech unto a soul that did not possess this faculty in life.’

‘Sounds good to me.’ He rose to his feet and made to reach for the sword. ‘Would you do the honours or shall I?’

Snape paled and shook his head, the lank strands of his hair flying even under the hood of the Invisibility Cloak. ‘You don’t ever want to see what the blood of a Necromancer can Summon.’

‘Oh.’ Harry gulped. ‘All right.’

‘However, I suggest that you allow me the honour to wield the blade. Your erstwhile attempt—’

‘Uh, I guess you’ve seen failed suicides that looked prettier?’ Harry joked. A flicker of something in the depth of Severus’ eyes made Harry draw back. ‘Shit, you have?’

‘Never mind,’ was the curt reply.

‘Right,’ Harry cleared his throat awkwardly and. ‘If you would?’

He transferred Hedwig to his shoulder, marvelling at how real, how alive the soul of his childhood companion felt. Then he swallowed hard and held out his left forearm to Severus. ‘The back of my forearm again, please. Not the tattoo.’

Severus inclined his head and carefully drew the sword from its sheath. Before Harry had a chance to blink, a clean, shallow slash across his arm was bleeding freely. Harry winced at the sudden sting of the cut, but it was far less painful than when he’d cut himself to Summon Hedwig.

Okay. We need someone who can talk, someone who can tell us what happened to Dumbledore. Someone who will help us!

He tried to concentrate on a name. Who’d be most helpful? Sirius? His heart skipped a beat at the thought. Merlin, how he wanted to see Sirius again. But would he be able to help? Scratch that, Harry thought, taking into account the company he was keeping. Might be weeks of arguing about why I’m with Snape until we get to that point.

Who else? Moody? Remus? Fred? His heart grew tight with longing. There were just too many people he would like to see again. My mother…Lily…He would probably like to see her. Or would he? Now that he had Hermione?

Harry shook himself. Just the person who’ll help us most, he begged. Please.

With a crack like a whip, a small creature appeared before them. Large, bat-like ears were flapping with delight and round, bulging eyes were no longer glassy with death, but glowing brightly with renewed adoration. Dobby gave a silent squeal of joy, before he grabbed the seam of the Invisibility Cloak above Harry’s injured arm and pulled on it vigorously. The cloak parted, revealing the two travellers.

Dobby was grinning from ear to fluttering ear, and his mouth opened and closed with an amazing speed, but there was no sound at all. Harry imagined that a goldfish in a bowl of Butterbeer might look like this. Utterly blissful in his silence.

‘Severus,’ Harry hissed, torn between happiness and despair at Dobby’s silent but profuse expressions of happiness. ‘What about that bestowing speech act? That would come in really handy right now!’

‘Of course.’ Snape’s fingers ran down the bandolier from the top, caressing each bell in turn, until they stopped at the fourth bell. ‘This is Dyrim,’ Severus whispered. ‘A bell that brings back lost words and silences those that should not be spoken.’

He plucked the bell from its sheath and rang it once. The sound was short and sweet, like the first notes of a dancing tune, cut off much too soon.

‘Harry Potter! Oh, good sir! To meet you again, here! And you’re alive, and grown! Quite the young gentleman Harry Potter now is! Oh sir, what joy!’ Dobby squeaked and beamed at Harry.

‘Dobby,’ Harry croaked.

And it was very good that his hand was tied to Severus, because he couldn’t think of anything but hugging Dobby—staying under the Invisibility Cloak, keeping a good hold on Severus’ hand, the mystery of the floating half of the Resurrection Stone—all of that fled from his mind.

‘Dobby,’ he repeated, his voice choked with tears.

And just like Hedwig, the materialised soul of Dobby-the-house-elf, felt just as real as the elf would have felt in life. He was small, tiny. Knobbly. A bit like a puppet come alive.

‘I never got the chance to thank you,’ Harry whispered. ‘You saved our lives. Hermione’s, Ron’s, mine.’

Dobby’s luminous emerald orbs took on a solemn shimmer. ‘Dobby died a free elf. Is no better way for Dobby to go. And besides, Headmaster Professor Dumbledore Sir needs help of house-elf on this side of things.’

The small creature gave a sage nod. ‘Dobby is needed. Dobby serves.’

‘But where is Professor Dumbledore, Dobby?’ Harry asked, fighting down his impatience.

‘Why,’ Dobby said, surprise colouring his high-pitched voice. ‘Right here.’

The house-elf pointed straight at the floating black pebble of the broken Resurrection Stone.