Cresswell

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Even the mystery of the silver doe, which the other two insisted on discussing,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], seemed less important to Harry now, a vaguely interesting sideshow. The only other thing that mattered to him was that his scar had begun to prickle again, although he did all he could to hide this fact from the other two. He sought solitude whenever it happened, but was disappointed by what he saw. The visions he and Voldemort were sharing had changed in quality; they had become blurred, shifting as though they were moving in and out of focus. Harry was just able to make out the indistinct features of an object that looked like a skull, and something like a mountain that was more shadow than substance. Used to images sharp as reality, Harry was disconcerted by the change. He was worried that the connection between himself and Voldemort had been damaged, a connection that he both feared and, whatever he had told Hermione, prized. Somehow Harry connected these unsatisfying, vague images with the destruction of his wand, as if it was the blackthorn wand's fault that he could no longer see into Voldemort's mind as well as before.
As the weeks crept on, Harry could not help but notice, even through his new self-absorption, that Ron seemed to be taking charge. Perhaps because he was determined to make up for having walked out on them, perhaps because Harry's descent into listlessness galvanized his dormant leadership qualities, Ron was the one now encouraging and exhorting the other two into action.
"Three Horcruxes left,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," he kept saying. "We need a plan of action, come on! Where haven't we looked? Let's go through it again. The orphanage\a133"
Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, the Riddle House, Borgin and Burkes, Albania, every place that they knew Tom Riddle had ever lived or worked, visited or murdered, Ron and Hermione raked over them again, Harry joining in only to stop Hermione pestering him. He would have been happy to sit alone in silence, trying to read Voldemort's thoughts, to find out more about the Elder Wand, but Ron insisted on journeying to ever more unlikely places simply, Harry was aware, to keep them moving.
"You never know," was Ron's constant refrain. "Upper Flagley is a Wizarding village, he might've wanted to live there. Let's go and have a poke around."
These frequent forays into Wizarding territory brought them within occasional sight of Snatchers.
"Some of them are supposed to be as bad as Death Eaters," said Ron. "The lot that got me were a bit pathetic, but Bill recons some of them are really dangerous. They said on \iPotterwatch\i \a150\a150"
"On what?" said Harry.
"\iPotterwatch\i, didn't I tell you that's what it was called? The program I keep trying to get on the radio, the only one that tells the truth about what's going on! Nearly all of the programs are following You-Know-Who's line, all except \iPotterwatch\i, I really want you to hear it, but it's tricky tuning in\a133"
Ron spent evening after evening using his wand to beat out various rhythms on top of the wireless while the dials whirled. Occasionally they would catch snatches of advice on how to treat dragonpox, and once a few bars of "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love." While he taped, Ron continued to try to hit on the correct password, muttering strings of random words under his breath.
"They're normally something to do with the Order," he told them. "Bill had a real knack for guessing them. I'm bound to get one in the end\a133"
"But not until March did luck favor Ron at last. Harry was sitting in the tent entrance, on guard duty, staring idly at a clump of grape hyacinths that had forced their way through the chilly ground, when Ron shouted excitedly from inside the tent.
"I've got it, I've got it! Password was 'Albus'! Get in here, Harry."
Roused for the first time in days from his contemplation of the Deathly Hallows, Harry hurried back inside the tent to find Ron and Hermione kneeling on the floor beside the little radio. Hermione, who had been polishing the sword of Gryffindor just for something to do, was sitting open-mouthed, staring at the tiny speaker, from which a most familiar voice was issuing.
"\a133apologize for our temporary absence from the airwaves, which was due to a number of house calls in our area by those charming Death Eaters."
"But that's Lee Jordan!" said Hermione.
"I know!" beamed Ron. "Cool, eh?"
"\a133now found ourselves another secure location," Lee was saying,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and I'm pleased to tell you that two of our regular contributors have joined me here this evening. Evening, boys!"
"Hi."
"Evening, River."
"'River'" that's Lee," Ron explained. "They've all got code names, but you can usually tell \a150\a150"
"Shh!" said Hermione.
"But before we hear from Royal and Romulus," Lee went on, "let's take a moment to report those deaths that the \iWizarding Wireless Network News\i and \iDaily Prophet\i don't think important enough to mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell."
Harry felt a sick, swooping in his belly. He, Ron, and Hermione gazed at one another in horror.
"A goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed. It is believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both believed to have been traveling with Tonks, Cresswell, and Gornuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news.
"Meanwhile, in Gaddley, a Muggle family of five has been found dead in their home. Muggle authorities are attributing their deaths to a gas leak, but members of the Order of the Phoenix inform me that it was the Killing Curse \a150\a150 more evidence, as if it were needed, of the fact that Muggle slaughter is becoming little more than a recreational sport under the new regime.
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