Hermione and Ron shook their heads, looking blank.

Hermione and Ron shook their heads, looking blank.

“I open at the close… at the close… I open at the close…”

But no matter how often they repeated the words, with many different inflections, they were unable to wring any more meaning from them.

“And the sword,” said Ron finally, when they had at last abandoned their attempts to divine meaning in the Snitch’s inscription.

“Why did he want Harry to have the sword?”

“And why couldn’t he just have told me?” Harry said quietly. “I was there, it was right there on the wall of his office during all our talks last year! If he wanted me to have it, why didn’t he just give it to me then?”

He felt as thought he were sitting in an examination with a question he ought to have been able to answer in front of him, his brain slow and unresponsive. Was there something he had missed in the long talks with Dumbledore last year? Ought he to know what it all meant? Had Dumbledore expected him to understand?

“And as for this book.” Said Hermione, “The Tales of Beedle the Bard … I’ve never even heard of them!”

“You’ve never heard of The Tales of Beedle the Bard?” said Ron incredulously. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not,” said Hermione in surprise. “Do you know them then?”

“Well, of course I do!”

Harry looked up, diverted. The circumstance of Ron having read a book that Hermione had not was unprecedented. Ron, however, looked bemused by their surprise.

“Oh come on! All the old kids’ stories are supposed to be Beedle’s aren’t they? ‘The Fountain of Fair Fortune’ … ‘The Wizard and the Hopping Pot’… ‘Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump’…”

“Excuse me?” said Hermione giggling. “What was the last one?”

“Come off it!” said Ron, looking in disbelief from Harry to Hermione. “You must’ve heard of Babbitty Rabbitty – ”

“Ron, you know full well Harry and I were brought up by Muggles!” said Hermione. “We didn’t hear stories like that when we were little, we heard ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarves’ and ‘Cinderella’ – ”

“What’s that, an illness?” asked Ron.

“So these are children’s stories?” asked Hermione, bending against over the runes.

“Yeah.” Said Ron uncertainly. “I mean, just what you hear, you know, that all these old stories came from Beedle. I dunno what they’re like in the original versions.”

“But I wonder why Dumbledore thought I should read them?”

Something cracked downstairs.

“Probably just Charlie, now Mum’s asleep, sneaking off to regrow his hair,” said Ron nervously.

“All the same, we should get to bed,” whispered Hermione. “It wouldn’t do to oversleep tomorrow.”

“No,” agreed Ron. “A brutal triple murder by the bridegroom’s mother might put a bit of damper on the wedding. I’ll get the light.”

And he clicked the Deluminator once more as Hermione left the room.
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