Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Ch 16-17

Chapter 16 - Godric's Hollow

• They did not discuss Ron at all over the next few days. Harry was determined never to mention his name again, and Hermione seemed to know that it was no use forcing the issue, although sometimes at night when she thought he was sleeping, he would hear her crying. 

Q1 - Is Harry being too hard here?

• By day, they devoted themselves to trying to determine the possible locations of Gryffindor’s sword, but the more they talked about the places in which Dumbledore might have hidden it, the more desperate and far-fetched their speculation became. 

Q2 - Where do you think the sword is?

• They were spending many evenings in near silence, and Hermione took to bringing out Phineas Nigellus’s portrait and propping it up in a chair, as though he might fill part of the gaping hole left by Ron’s departure… Indeed, Phineas Nigellus inadvertently emphasized this fact by slipping in leading questions about Harry and Hermione’s whereabouts.

Q3 - Is Hermione actually crazy to do this?

• Apparently she had not been listening to him. She leaned forward and held out The Tales of Beedle the Bard. “Look at that symbol,” she said, pointing to the top of a page. Above what Harry assumed was the title of the story (being unable to read runes, he could not be sure), there was a picture of what looked like a triangular eye, its pupil crossed with a vertical line. “I never took Ancient Runes, Hermione.” “I know that, but it isn’t a rune and it’s not in the syllabary, either. All along I thought it was a picture of an eye, but I don’t think it is! It’s been inked in, look, somebody’s drawn it there, it isn’t really part of the book. Think, have you ever seen it before?” “No . . . No, wait a moment.” Harry looked closer. “Isn’t it the same symbol Luna’s dad was wearing round his neck?” “Well, that’s what I thought too!” “Then it’s Grindelwald’s mark.” 

Q4 - What does this all mean for the story?

• She pointed to the dark stone. Harry stooped down and saw, upon the frozen, lichen-spotted granite, the words Kendra Dumbledore and, a short way below her dates of birth and death, and Her Daughter Ariana. There was also a quotation: Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. 

Q5 - What do you make of that quote?

• “Here!” cried Hermione again a few moments later from out of the darkness. “Oh no, sorry! I thought it said Potter.” She was rubbing at a crumbling, mossy stone, gazing down at it, a little frown on her face. “Harry, come back a moment.” He did not want to be sidetracked again, and only grudgingly made his way back through the snow toward her. “What?” “Look at this!” The grave was extremely old, weathered so that Harry could hardly make out the name. Hermione showed him the symbol beneath it. “Harry, that’s the mark in the book!” 

Q6 - Is this mark different?

• The headstone was only two rows behind Kendra and Ariana’s. It was made of white marble, just like Dumbledore’s tomb, and this made it easy to read, as it seemed to shine in the dark. Harry did not need to kneel or even approach very close to it to make out the words engraved upon it. James Potter Born 27 March 1960 Died October 31 1981 Lily Potter, born January 30, 1960 Died October 31, 1981. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. 

Q7 - Why are these words on the gravestone?

• But they were not living, thought Harry: They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents’ moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

Chapter 17 - Bathilda’s Secret

• Harry, stop.” “What’s wrong?” They had only just reached the grave of the unknown Abbott. “There’s someone there. Someone watching us. I can tell. There, over by the bushes.”

Q1 - What do you think of the monuments to the Potters?

• Was it possible that she had been waiting for them all these long months? That Dumbledore had told her to wait, and that Harry would come in the end? Was it not likely that it was she who had moved in the shadows in the graveyard and had followed them to this spot? Even her ability to sense them suggested some Dumbledore-ish power that he had never encountered before. 

Q2 - What would you have done in this situation?

• The dust vanished from the photographs, and he saw at once that half a dozen were missing from the largest and most ornate frames. He wondered whether Bathilda or somebody else had removed them. Then the sight of a photograph near the back of the collection caught his eye, and he snatched it up. It was the golden-haired, merry-faced thief, the young man who had perched on Gregorovitch’s windowsill, smiling lazily up at Harry out of the silver frame. And it came to Harry instantly where he had seen the boy before: in The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, arm in arm with the teenage Dumbledore, and that must be where all the missing photographs were: in Rita’s book. 

Q3 - Who is this?

• Then she closed her eyes and several things happened at once: Harry’s scar prickled painfully; the Horcrux twitched so that the front of his sweater actually moved; the dark, fetid room dissolved momentarily. He felt a leap of joy and spoke in a high, cold voice: Hold him! 

Q4 - How chilling is this?

• And his scream was Harry’s scream, his pain was Harry’s pain . . . that it could happen here, where it had happened before . . . here, within sight of that house where he had come so close to knowing what it was to die . . . to die. . . . The pain was so terrible . . . ripped from his body. . . . But if he had no body, why did his head hurt so badly; if he was dead, how could he feel so unbearably, didn’t pain cease with death, didn’t it go . . . 
• He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand . . . and there she stood, the child in her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead. . . . “Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” “Stand aside, you silly girl . . . stand aside, now.” “Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —” “This is my last warning —” “Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy. . . . Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I’ll do anything —” “Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!” He could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all. . . .

Q5 - Does any of this info give you hints or clues as to what is going on?

• And then he broke: He was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away . . . far away. . . . “No,” he moaned. The snake rustled on the filthy, cluttered floor, and he had killed the boy, and yet he was the boy. . . . “No . . .” And now he stood at the broken window of Bathilda’s house, immersed in memories of his greatest loss, and at his feet the great snake slithered over broken china and glass. . . . He looked down and saw something . . . something incredible. . . . “No . . .” “Harry, it’s all right, you’re all right!” He stooped down and picked up the smashed photograph. There he was, the unknown thief, the thief he was seeking. . .

Q6 - What is going on here? 

• “You’re the one who needs sleep. No offense, but you look terrible. I’m fine. I’ll keep watch for a while. Where’s my wand?” She did not answer, she merely looked at him. “Where’s my wand, Hermione?” She was biting her lip, and tears swam in her eyes. “Harry . . .” “Where’s my wand?” She reached down beside the bed and held it out to him. The holly and phoenix wand was nearly severed in two. One fragile strand of phoenix feather kept both pieces hanging together. The wood had splintered apart completely. Harry took it into his hands as though it was a living thing that had suffered a terrible injury. He could not think properly: Everything was a blur of panic and fear. Then he held out the wand to Hermione. “Lumos!” The wand sparked feebly, then went out. Harry pointed it at Hermione. “Expelliarmus!” Hermione’s wand gave a little jerk, but did not leave her hand. The feeble attempt at magic was too much for Harry’s wand, which split into two again. He stared at it, aghast, unable to take in.

Q7 - Do they really stand a chance now?