ability to accept the extraordinary."
Xenophilius strode back to the tea tray, which Hermione had managed to
balance precariously on one of the cluttered side tables.
"May I offer you all an infusion of Gurdyroots?" said Xenophilius. "We
make it ourselves." As he started to pour out the drink, which was as deeply
purple as beetroot juice, he added, "Luna is down beyond Bottom Bridge, she
is most excited that you are here She ought not to be too long, she has
caught nearly enough Plumpies to make soup for all of us. Do sit down and
help yourselves to sugar.
"Now," he remove a tottering pile of papers from an armchair and sat
down, his Wellingtoned legs crossed, "how may I help you, Mr. Potter?"
"Well," said Harry, glancing at Hermione, who nodded encouragingly,
"it's about that symbol you were wearing around your neck at Bill and
Fleur's wedding, Mr. Lovegood. We wondered what it meant."
Xenophilius raised his eyebrows.
"Are you referring to the sign of the Deathly Hallows?"
Chapter Twenty-One
The Tale of the Three Brothers
Harry turned to look at Ron and Hermione. Neither of them seemed to have
understood what Xenophilius had said either.
"The Deathly Hallows?"
"That's right," said Xenophilius. "You haven't heard of them? I'm not surprised.
Very, very few wizards believe. Witness that knuckle-headed young man at your
brother's wedding," he nodded at Ron, "who attacked me for sporting the symbol of a
well-known Dark wizard! Such ignorance. There is nothing Dark about the Hallows – at
least not in that crude sense. One simply uses the symbol to reveal oneself to other
believers, in the hope that they might help one with the Quest."
He stirred several lumps of sugar into his Gurdyroot infusion and drank some.
"I'm sorry," said Harry, "I still don't really understand."
To be polite, he took a sip from his cup too, and almost gagged: The stuff was
quite disgusting, as though someone had liquidized bogey-flavored Every Flavor Beans.
"Well, you see, believers seek the Deathly Hallows," said Xenophilius, smacking
his lips in apparent appreciation of the Gurdyroot infusion.
"But what are the Deathly Hallows?" asked Hermione.
Xenophilius set aside his empty teacup.
"I assume that you are familiar with 'The Tale of the Three Brothers'?"
Harry said, "No," but Ron and Hermione both said, "Yes." Xenophilius nodded
gravely.
"Well, well, Mr. Potter, the whole thing starts with 'The Tale of the Three
Brothers' . . . I have a copy somewhere . . ."
He glanced vaguely around the room, at the piles of parchment and books, but
Hermione said, "I've got a copy, Mr. Lovegood, I've got it right here."
And she pulled out The Tales of Beedle the Bard from the small, beaded bag.
"The original?" inquired Xenophilius sharply, and when she nodded, he said,
"Well then, why don't you read it out aloud? Much the best way to make sure we all
understand."
"Er. . . all right," said Hermione nervously. She opened the book, and Harry saw