continued to request trays of food in his room, like the still-frail Ollivander, until Bill
(following an angry outburst from Fleur) went upstairs to tell him that the arrangement
could not continue. Thereafter Griphook joined them at the overcrowded table, although
he refused to eat the same food, insisting, instead, on lumps of raw meat, roots, and
various fungi.
Harry felt responsible: It was, after all, he who had insisted that the goblin remain at Shell
Cottage so that he could question him; his fault that the whole Weasley family had been
driven into hiding, that Bill, Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley could no longer work.
"I'm sorry," he told Fleur, one blustery April evening as he helped her prepare dinner. "I
never meant you to have to deal with all of this."
She had just set some knives to work, chipping up steaks for Griphook and Bill, who had
preferred his meat bloody ever since he had been attacked by Greyback. While the knives
sliced behind her, her somewhat irritable expression softened.
"'Arry, you saved my sister's life, I do not forget."
This was not, strictly speaking, true, but Harry decided against reminding her that
Gabrielle had never been in real danger.
"Anyway," Fleur went on, pointing her want at a pot of sauce on the stove, which began
to bubble at once, "Mr. Ollivander leaves for Muriel's zis evening. Zat will make zings
easier. Ze goblin," she scowled a little at the mention of him, "can move downstairs, and
you, Ron, and Dean can take zat room."
"We don't mind sleeping in the living room," said Harry, who knew that Griphook would
thing poorly of having to sleep on the sofa; keeping Griphook happy was essential to
their plans. "Don't worry about us." And when she tried to protest he went on, "We'll be
off your hands soon too, Ron, Hermione, and I. We won't need to be here much longer."
"But, what do you mean?" she said, frowning at him, her wand pointing at the casserole
dish now suspended in midair. "Of course you must not leave, you are safe 'ere!"
She looked rather like Mrs. Weasley as she said it, and he was glad that the back door
opened at that moment. Luna and Dean entered, their hair damp from the rain outside and
their arms full of driftwood.
"... and tiny little ears," Luna was saying, "a bit like hippo's, Daddy says, only purple and
hairy. And if you want to call them, you have to hum; they prefer a waltz, nothing too
fast...."
Looking uncomfortable, Dean shrugged at Harry as he passed, following Luna into the
combined dining and sitting room where Ron and Hermione were laying the dinner table.
Seizing the chance to escape Fleur's questions, Harry grabbed two jugs of pumpkin juice
and followed them.
"... and if you ever come to our house I'll be able to show you the horn, Daddy wrote to
me about it but I haven't seen it yet, because the Death Eaters took me from the Hogwarts
Express and I never got home for Christmas," Luna was saying, as she and Dean relit the