chapter seventeen

                                    

                                          
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Clara landed hard on grass and let go of Ron, who was already getting up.
"That treacherous old bleeder." Ron panted, taking off the Invisibility Cloak from Clara's shoulders and throwing it to Harry. "Hermione you're a genius, a total genius. I can't believe we got out of that." 
"Cave Inimicum . . . Didn't I say it was an Erumpent horn, didn't I tell him? And now his house has been blown apart!" 
"Serves him right," said Ron, examining his torn jeans and the cuts to his legs, "What'd you reckon they'll do to him?" 
"Oh I hope they don't kill him!" groaned Hermione, "That's why I wanted the Death Eaters to get a glimpse of Harry before we left, so they knew Xenophilius hadn't been lying!" 
"They couldn't kill him. Not if they knew he was being honest." replied Clara, though she wasn't sure if that was actually true.
"Why hide me though?" asked Ron. 
"You're supposed to be in bed with spattergroit, Ron! They've kidnapped Luna because her father supported Harry! What would happen to your family if they knew you're with him?" 
"But then what about Clara?" 
"The less the Death Eaters think she's involved with Harry, the better. If you think they'd call you a traitor, Ron, just imagine what they'd think of Clara. She was supposed to be one of them."
"You're a genius," Ron repeated, looking awed.
"Yeah, you are, Hermione," agreed Harry. "I don't know what we'd do without you."
"What about Luna?" asked Hermione quietly.
"Well, if they're telling the truth and she's still alive— " began Ron. 
"Don't say that, don't say it!" cried Clara. "She is still alive! She will be fine."
"Then, she's in Azkaban, I expect, if she survives the place, though . . . Loads don't . . . " 
"She will," said Clara. She could not bear to contemplate the alternative. "She's tough, Luna, much tougher than you'd think. She's probably teaching all the inmates about Wrackspurts and Nargles. She... She's kind and brave and-" 
"I hope you're right," said Hermione, closing Clara into a hug. The girls pulled apart.  "I'd feel so sorry for Xenophilius if— " 
"—if he hadn't just tried to sell us to the Death Eaters, yeah," said Ron.
They put up the tent and retreated inside it, where Ron made them tea. After their narrow escape, the chilly, musty old place felt like home: safe, familiar, and friendly. Clara sat next to Hermione, who was arguing fiercely with Harry, at the table. 
Clara sat in silence, letting their conversation about the Deathly Hallows sweep over her like a broom wafting dust back into the air. Who cared if the Deathly Hallows were real when her best friend was gone? 
Suddenly, after arguing with Ron a bit too, Hermione turned to Clara. "You don't believe in this, do you?" 
Harry looked up and Ron grimaced. Clara locked eyes with Harry, who was glaring at her harshly.  
"I mean . . . bits of it sort of fit together," said Clara and Harry's lips turned upwards, "But when you look at the whole thing it's all shit. It's a fairytale. Nothing more." Harry's start of a smile dropped immediately. "I think we're supposed to get rid of Horcruxes and kill You-Know-Who. We should forget about this Hallows business."