He was not too sure why he had ever expected that the house would be in ruin. Maybe it had been the stories he had heard as a child, of men in masks that came in uninvited in the middle of the night and tore homes apart brick by brick. Maybe it had been the magical power that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named possessed, power more intense than the human mind could ever perceive. Maybe, in the end, it came down to the fact that these were the Potter's and he would have never expected Harry's father to go down without some sort of mortar-shattering battle. Whatever the reason, Ron Weasley had never believed he would ever see Godric's Hollow standing, the starchy summer sun illuminating its foundation in the setting sky.
It was a quaint house with small windows and brick red shutters. A long driveway led up to an ebony door with a brass griffin knocker. The grass that surrounded the property had long ago died, replaced by sandy soil that twisted itself up into tornadoes as the wind blew. The chimney, which Ron expected had at one point sent billows of smoke up over the tops of the tiny houses in the village, now stood leaning on its side, like an old man that had had too much to drink. The steps leading up to the door were cracked with age and a placard that read The Potters was falling off its nails.
Ron had promised Harry he would accompany him to Godric's Hollow when he revisited his family home for the first time. It was a right of passage, Harry had said, a journey that had to be completed to achieve the next step in his hunt for the horcruxes. A journey that would enable Harry to finally let the rage from his past transition into the power to beat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. A journey that would turn him into a man. A journey Ron was bloody well glad he would never have to take for himself.
It was not that Ron Weasley feared or horridly disliked his past. He really never had. He had grown up stable enough, two loving parents and a multitude of siblings to teach him right from wrong whenever he needed it. Sure, they were on the poor side, but his situations had taught him the value of money and possessions. There had been a time, long before the second war, where he had always seen himself as mediocre. Harry Potter's silly sidekick. The boy Hermione Granger would never ask to a ball. The youngest and most inadequate male Weasley. But the war changed all of that. He valued what he had. He took no day for granted. He kissed his girlfriend whenever he had the chance and thanked his mother for all of her good doings. He was not too sure that he could call himself a man yet, but Ron was particularly glad he had never had to trek to the far corners of London to learn if he could be one.
Staring up at Godric's Hollow, Ron felt his heart drop into his lower belly. Harry had gone in the front door almost an hour ago and he was told to "be a watchman" as Harry did whatever it bloody was that Harry had to do. What exactly was there to do? Ron was sure that there was nothing left in the house. Knowing London, it had been looted the minute the Potter's bodies had been removed and Harry given off to the Dursley's. The Potter's had been powerful people, powerful enough to have loads of money even when hidden underneath a special protective spell. Ron could not imagine what Dumbledore's cryptic advice to visit Godric's Hollow could have meant. What could change the war now?
It was at that moment that Harry came out of Godric's Hollow, holding a crumpled up letter in one hand and a trail of tears on his face. Ron tried to look his manliest as he gave his friend a rough battered hug, the kind that eighteen-year-old boys gave that lasted long enough to show its purpose but not long enough to appear babyish. Harry hugged him back and let him take the letter, which was so old the parchment felt like leather under Ron's fingertips.
Dearest Harry,
If you are reading this, what I have seen coming for some time has indeed occurred and I have left you. If you are reading this, it also means that you have reached the age of 18, an age so vital and important in this world for moving onto a life full with success and accomplishments and love.
Don't ever lose hope Harry. Even when things seem impossible, even when the roughest is against you and you feel unable to complete your goals, know that there is an end to the tunnel. Know that Voldemort will never survive in a world of compassion and friendship and love.
Love, no matter how cliché my son, will indeed be you're calling. Love will allow you to defeat Voldemort, love will allow you to defeat his horcruxes and his followers and his minions, and love will allow you to live your life to the fullest once all of this is over. Never abandon the people you love Harry my dear, no matter how dangerous the situation. Care for your friends. Care for your girlfriends. Care for your mentors and those that take you in.
Know above anything else Harry that your father and I love you greatly. You are the dearest thing that has ever happened to us. And always remember, nothing is ever your fault.
I love you,
Lily
Ron looked up at Harry, whose face was riddled with discomfort and sadness, and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder gripping tighter as the boy leaned into it. They sat like that for a long time, as shudders of gasping breath and shaking shoulders ran through Harry, as tears leaked across the once-lawn and the sun set beyond the tall trees that surrounded Godric's Hollow. They sat as true friends would sit, in absolute silence, for words were not needed to describe or explain anything. Excuses were unnecessary. Years of Quidditch, train rides, wizard's chess, classes, philosopher's stones, chambers, shrieking shacks, goblets, floating brains, and rabid werewolves had brought them to Godric's Hollow. Seven years of friendship had brought them closer than Ron had ever known anyone to be. Words were not needed to describe Harry's sorrow, nor were overspent tears or boyish fights. It was not until he felt the letter leave his fingertips and heard Harry mutter a shrinking charm that he dared speak to him.
"Harry…"
"We can go now Ron." He said simply, not bothering to move much, "I've got what I need."
Although Ron Weasley would never understand what exactly happened that day at Godric's Hollow, he watched as Harry's manhood flourished in the following months. He destroyed horcruxes with the ease of a well-practiced wizard. He defeated Tom Riddle with courage and determination. He went on to marry Ron's little sister and have tons of young Potter's, almost nearly enough to compete with the amount of Weasley-Granger's running around downtown London. As he aged and became old and feeble, Ron Weasley told his stories to his children and grandchildren; stories of the good times, stories of the bad times, and stories of the boy-turned-man, and the friendship, that saved them all.