'You rode a dragon to the place where the castle was?'
Charlie nodded.
'And was there something there?'
'There wasn?t something there,' said Charlie edgily. 'But there was someone there.'
Harrys eyebrows rocketed up, and his question came out on an explosion of breath, 'Who?'
'I don?t know,' said Charlie, a bit miserably. 'A man, I think. Tall, wearing a long hooded robe and gloves; he might have had an Obscurus charm over his face, because I couldn't make out his features. He?d been sending up green flares with his wand into the sky, but when I arrived, he stopped and greeted me civilly. Called me 'Dragonrider.? He asked me if I thought I was a brave man.'
'And you said…?'
'I said I tried to be one. So he reached into his robes and he brought out this, and he handed it to me.' Charlie drew his hand out of his pocket at last, and with it, the object he had been holding. 'He said, 'Dragonrider, take this to the Heir of Gryffindor, the One who Lived.
It will keep him safe when all else fails, when charms and spells prove useless, and his Magid powers have forsaken him. Give it to him, if you value his life.?'
'Bloody Hell,' said Harry, and stared at the thing in Charlies hand.
It was a rough sort of circle, made of a dark scarlet-black material that glowed like ruby syrup shot through with charcoal. It looked like glass, but when Harry took it in his hand he found it was much heavier and denser than glass, and more flexible, like a thin steel cable. It looked well-used — there were scratches all around the rim.
'What the hell is this?'
'No idea,' said Charlie, miserable. 'And I had a time, I can tell you, trying to decide whether to give it to you or not. I thought it might be something dangerous, something from You-Know-Who. I mean, bloody hooded men popping up in the dead of night, handing things over, then vanishing again. It doesn?t inspire trust. But what he said — I was afraid to take the chance of not giving it to you.' He shrugged. 'So I decided to make it your choice. You?re old enough, Harry.'
Harry looked up at him, his green eyes steady. 'Thanks, Charlie.'
'Its not much of a present,' said Charlie, with a regretful smile.
'No,' said Harry, closing his hand around the scarlet circle, 'I meant thanks for trusting me and treating me like an adult.'
'Oh,' said Charlie, a cold misgiving coalescing in his stomach, 'of course, Harry. Of course.'
A peculiar feeling began in Hermione's stomach as she watched Draco and Ginny descending the staircase. She couldn't help but notice that they were holding hands. Ginny's face was tipped up to Draco's; Draco was looking straight ahead, but smiling. They both looked gorgeous, beautifully dressed, and as if they had been born to walk down elegant marble staircases in gigantic ancestral homes in front of crowds of admiring people. Which in Draco's case was true, but Ginny —
'Gin looks all right, doesn't she,' said George, with older-brother pride in his voice.
Ginny did indeed look all right, Hermione thought. As Hermione had predicted, the deep red color she wore suited Ginny perfectly, bringing out the shimmering highlights in her scarlet hair. The delicate bodice of the dress emphasized her narrow waist and high shoulders. She looked almost fragile, although the sparkle in her eyes recollected the fierce young woman who had ridden a dragon to save Draco and Ron from the top of Slytherin's tower.
'She looks great. Aside from that big ugly thing stuck to her arm,' said Fred cheerfully.
Percy blinked. 'Ah. You mean Malfoy.' He smiled, and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. 'He's getting nearly as famous as Harry, these days, isn't he? Teen Witch Weekly was running some sort of contest the other day — first prize was a photo of Draco.'
'Second prize,' said George, 'was two photos of Draco.'
'Now be nice,' said Honoria, and extended her hand as Draco and Ginny reached the bottom of the stairs and joined their group.
'Ginny — lovely to see you. Draco Malfoy — you probably don't remember me, but — '
'Honoria Glossop,' said Draco, looking at her thoughtfully, 'Ravenclaw. You were a seventh year when I was in third. Your family are the Dorchester Glossops, aren't they? Totleigh Towers?'
Honoria nodded, quite pink with pleasure. 'You have a remarkable memory.'
The rest of the group proved less easy to charm. Angelina, recollecting Draco from many a bitter Quidditch match, looked at him as if he were something stuck to a fly swatter, Jana looked nervous, and Fred and George looked churlish. Hermione felt herself unable to say anything, as feelings of confusion prevented her from speaking. She wished Harry were there, but he had vanished to speak with Charlie. It seemed aeons that they stood there making small talk before Harry and Charlie returned. They were accompanied now by two other guests — Viktor Krum, and a tall, unfamiliar, dark-haired man with bright blue eyes, who Charlie introduced as Aiden Lynch.
'You used to be Seeker for Ireland!' Angelina exclaimed, recognizing him immediately.
'Still am,' said Lynch in a pleasantly accented voice. 'Took a year off. But I'm back now.'
'And we can all rest easy,' said Draco, a slight bite to his voice.
Hermione glanced sideways at him. She could tell that the toll of spending this much time in the company of Weasleys who disliked him was beginning to show. When Draco was under stress, he was sarcastic. He was looking sideways, over at Harry, but Harry, for whatever reason, was ignoring him and talking to Charlie.
'I saw you?ve got a Quidditch pitch outside,' said Aidan to Draco, still pleasantly. 'We should have a game tomorrow. Viktor and I, we?re staying in town, and-'
'What, you and Viktor against me and Harry? The four of us?' said Draco. 'An all-Seekers game? Oh that?ll be a blast, just hanging about for eternity waiting for the Snitch to show up.'
