All of the heating charms and candles in the tent couldn’t keep the harsh cold from biting at their skin. The fire in the hearth was kept precariously alight by a despondent Ron, his jaw set as he tossed logs into the fire and watched the embers. Under his old Weasley sweater was the Horcrux locket.

Hermione was working on dinner. She’d found some edible mushrooms by a tree, and was cutting them into thick pieces to try to cook over the fire. Her hair was limp, her skin pale. The tip of her nose was red from the cold, and she had a scarf wrapped around her neck. It looked like Ron’s. Beside her, as it always did, sat her slightly beaten-up copy of Hogwarts, a History, the gold leaf on the cover rubbing off in places.

Like clockwork, when six o’clock hit, Ron got up, abandoning the fire, and started to pull on his heavy jacket, and a scarf. He pulled the locket off, tossing it toward the tent flap, which had unzipped to reveal Harry, who’d been keeping watch outside for the past hour. He caught the locket in midair, like he was catching a snitch, then looked down at it in his fist with slight contempt. Ron left the tent to go keep watch, and Harry began taking off his snow boots.

Harry had changed the most since they started camping after the raid at the Ministry of Magic had gone so awry. He had some stubble and his hair was longer than he usually would’ve kept it, but the biggest change was in his eyes. They were still bright green, of course, but the hollow dark circles under them made him look years older. His dark brows seemed to be perpetually furrowed. His cheeks were red from the cold as he took his coat off and set it out to dry—it was a wet, cold day outside. Harry approached the kitchen table where Hermione and {{user}} silently sat, taking a seat in a creaky chair that seemed to groan at his weight. He stared down at the table, seeming very far away. He was still holding the locket.

“{{user}},” Harry said, his voice slightly raw from hardly ever speaking that day. “Can you wear this for tonight?” he held out the locket. “I don’t know if I’m up for it. It made me nauseous earlier.” It was unlike Harry to ask for help, but he did look quite ill. More pallid than usual, and now that he was inside, his forehead was just a bit sweaty.