a light rain falls. Harry, wearing the locket now, walks the perimeter of the camp. 
                          
in the tent, safe, warm, and out of earshot, Hermione and i tend to Ron's arm as he stares at Harry. 
                          
"he doesn't know what he's doing, does he?" Ron says
                          
"none of us do." i say
                          


                          


                          
the charred husks of several RVs--hulking black masses--lay about the ash-ridden park. Ron, trailing me, Hermione, and Harry, pauses. his eyes scan the scorched earth, fix on a blackened swing, swaying back and forth in a tiny playground. his eyes shift to the ground and he crouches. his fingers shift the dry dirt, reveal a shiny toy not of Muggle making.
                          
"wizards were here." Ron mumbles
                          
"i don't like this place." i state
                          
"i want to leave." Hermione demands
                          


                          


                          
a rabbit hops into view, nose probing some bush. i decide to name the rabbit 'Ernie'. slowly, i raise my wand, probing to fire when BAM! the dirt next to Ernie explodes and he takes off running. seconds later, Harry appears, giving chase. i curse and pelt after him and the Ernie. 
                          
Ernie zig-zags through the trees, eluding one blast after another as Harry and i trip through the forest. we begin laughing, the air becoming more and more erratic. a tree limb explodes over Harry's head and he wheels, firing playfully at me. we exchange a few more blasts when one narrowly misses Harry. instinctively, eyes flaring, he wheels, fires back at me, narrowly missing me. 
                          
we both stop, stare at one another, chests heaving, our breath drifting in plumes, smiles gone. i wipe the sweat off my forehead and turn away, walking away from Harry and our only source of food Ernie the Rabbit. 
                          


                          


                          
in the shadows Ron and i lie on our backs, staring gloomily at the pitched ceiling of the tent, listening to the radio's murmur, while Hermione, wearing a red scarf against the chill, runs the fingers of her left hand through Harry's hair, alternatively employing the wand in her right hand to trim Harry's hair and flip the pages of A History of Magic. 
                          
"oh my god." Hermione says 
                          
"what?" Harry panics 
                          
"i'll tell you in a minute." Hermione answers
                          
"maybe you could tell me now." Harry says
                          
"alright. the Sword of Gryffindor is Goblin made." Hermione says
                          
"brilliant." Harry says sarcastically
                          
"you don't understand. dirt and rust have no effect on the blade. it only takes in that which makes it stronger." Hermione explains
                          
"ooookay?" Harry says questionably
                          
"Harry. you already destroyed one Horcrux, right? Tom Riddle's Diary--in the Chamber of Secrets." Hermione says
                          
"with a Basilisk fang. if you tell me you've got one of those in that blood bag of yours-" Harry begins
                          
"don't you see! in the Chamber of Secrets, you stabbed the Basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor. its blade is impregnated with Basilisk venom." Hermione explains
                          
"it only takes in that which makes it stronger..." Harry mumbles
                          
"exactly! which means..." Hermione says