Silence fell instantly inside the tent.
All three raised their wands in unison and hurried outside. With a quick flick of her wand, Hermione collapsed the tent and tucked it neatly into her handbag. The four red dots from the Deluminator drifted apart, circling cautiously in the dark.
"They're surrounding us?" Harry muttered, frowning. "I say we Disapparate. Now."
"Wait," Hermione whispered. "Something's off. How could they even know we're here? The protective charms make us completely invisible. We should see what they're doing first. If they've found a new way to detect us, we need to know before we move!"
Her wand was already aimed at the hooded figure who had just appeared at the edge of the forest.
"That's strange," said one of the dark-robed men by the stream. He lowered his wand and looked across at another wizard emerging from between the trees. "I could've sworn I saw someone Apparate nearby, on the hill earlier, too."
"Probably your imagination again," another scoffed. "Last time you said you saw Harry Potter himself! Face it, you just want the bounty so badly you're seeing things. Look around, this place is crawling with animal tracks!"
The man by the stream sighed, lowering his wand as well. He kicked a pebble hard, sending it skipping into the water.
"Forget it. Let's go back to London. I've had enough of this miserable dump. Drinks are on me when we get back!"
Moments later, all four cloaked figures Disapparated with soft cracks, vanishing into thin air.
"Phew, false alarm," Ron said, letting out a breath and lowering his wand. "All right, Hermione, bring the tent back out. We're clear."
"Not yet." Hermione checked her watch. "We'll wait half an hour. If no one else shows, then we'll set up camp."
"Fine," Ron sighed.
Harry wasn't listening. His gaze had fallen on a snapped twig on the ground. He spoke absently, as if thinking aloud.
"The Peverell buried in Godric's Hollow…"
"What?" Hermione turned sharply. "Harry, what did you just say?"
Harry looked up at her and Ron. "The Peverell buried in Godric's Hollow, how much do you two know about him?"
"Oh, I've looked him up," Hermione said at once. "He's mentioned in Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy and The Complete Directory of Wizarding Families of Britain. The Peverells were a pure-blood family whose male line died out centuries ago, one of the earliest families to vanish completely."
"The male line died out?" Ron repeated blankly.
"It means no one bears the name anymore," Hermione explained. "But they could still have descendants, just under different surnames."
Something clicked in Harry's memory, the name Peverell had stirred an image deep in his mind: an old, filthy man brandishing an ugly ring in front of a Ministry official.
"Marvolo Gaunt!" Harry blurted.
"What?" Ron and Hermione said together.
"Marvolo Gaunt, Voldemort's grandfather! I saw him in the Pensieve with Dumbledore! Marvolo said he was descended from the Peverells!"
Both of them looked bewildered.
"The ring, the Horcrux!" Harry said quickly. "He showed it off, and said it bore the Peverell crest. I saw him waving it right under that Ministry wizard's nose!"
"The Peverell crest?" Hermione asked urgently. "Did you see what it looked like?"
"Not clearly," said Harry, frowning as he tried to recall. "There wasn't much decoration, maybe some scratches. I only got a good look after it was cracked open."
Hermione's eyes widened in sudden realization. Harry knew she'd understood at once.
Ron looked from one to the other, completely lost. "Blimey… you're thinking it's the same symbol? The Hallows mark?"
"Why not?" Harry said, voice rising with excitement. "Marvolo Gaunt was a stupid, filthy old man, lived like a pig, obsessed with his 'pure blood.' If that ring had been passed down for generations, he probably had no idea what it really was! That house had no books, trust me, he wasn't the kind to read fairy tales to his kids. He probably just convinced himself those scratches were a family crest. To him, pure blood meant nobility."
"That's… interesting," Hermione said carefully. "But Harry, if you're thinking what I think you're thinking—"
"Why shouldn't I?" Harry said heatedly. "It's a stone, isn't it?" He turned to Ron for support. "What if it is the Resurrection Stone?"
Ron's jaw dropped. "Merlin's beard, but Dumbledore smashed it! Would it still work?"
"Work? Ron, it never worked to begin with!" Hermione burst out. "There's no such thing as a Resurrection Stone! Harry, you're trying to force everything to fit that Deathly Hallows story—"
"Force it?" Harry shot back. "It fits perfectly! I know that mark was on the stone! And Gaunt said he was a Peverell descendant!"
"A minute ago, you said you never actually saw the mark clearly!" Hermione retorted.
"Where do you think that ring is now?" Ron asked. "After Dumbledore cracked it open, what did he do with it?"
But Harry's thoughts had already raced far ahead of them.
Three objects, the Hallows, together making their master the Conqueror of Death…
Master… conqueror… victor…
And the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death…
He saw himself, master of the Hallows, standing against Voldemort. The Horcruxes would be nothing against him. Neither can live while the other survives. Was this it? Hallows against Horcruxes?
Could this be the key to victory? If he possessed the Deathly Hallows… would he finally be safe?
"Harry?"
He barely heard Hermione's voice. He drew out the Invisibility Cloak, letting it slide between his fingers. The fabric was fluid as water, light as air. In all his years in the wizarding world, he'd never seen another cloak like it. It matched Xenophilius's description perfectly, a true cloak of invisibility, one that rendered its wearer completely unseen, unbreakable, everlasting…
Then, with a sharp breath, Harry remembered,
"The night my parents died, the Cloak was with Dumbledore!"
His voice trembled, his face flushed, but he pressed on.
"My mum told Sirius, Dumbledore had borrowed it! That's why! He wanted to study it, he must've suspected it was the third Hallow! Ignotus Peverell, the one buried in Godric's Hollow—"
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