Harry Potter and the Age of Wisdom Chapter 1: Return to Origin
HelenePutzer
It stood like a small memorial of what was once a white wooden fence. All that remained of the house, where Godric Hollow's famous family resided, was a burned-out frame. A large, bare wooden barrier enclosed most of what was left. A crude path from the small gate led to what was once the front door. Stumps of dark brown and charcoal black wood boards stood around the perimeter. Any evidence of the contents of the home had either been burned beyond recognition or removed. Had someone, unaware of the infamous story, gazed upon the wreckage, they would still know the obvious: This home fell victim to a terrible fate.
Standing just beyond the gate was the tall, lean figure of 17-year-old Harry Potter. His dark, unkempt hair lay at the nape of his neck and hung limp over his brow. His round-rimmed glasses framed anger-filled green eyes that resembled his mother's. An over-sized, black sweatshirt draped his frame and hung low over his blue jeans. His wand was brandished in his right hand; he stood motionless. The quiet stillness was suddenly by the sound of cracking wood.
"Hello! Is anyone there?" Harry called out into the burned wreckage.
Suddenly, a small figure, slightly misshapen, appeared from the morning fog. Her face was wrinkled, and her hair was fluffy and white. Her long gold and burgundy cloak dragged along the floorboards as she continued to walk toward the front part of the house. Holding tightly to a cane in her left hand, she walked slowly toward Harry.
Harry squinted at her to get a better look at her face. He did not recognize her. Not taking any chances, Harry raised his wand.
"Stop! Don't come any closer," Harry warned the old woman.
The woman stopped only briefly, perhaps to size Harry up, then proceeded forward. "I … I mean it!" Harry threatened, brandishing his wand. Why, he wondered, was she still walking toward him? She had no wand of her own that he could see. She seemed rather defenseless.
"Look," Harry began, "whoever you are, I'd appreciate it if you didn't wander here. This was once my home, and I think it's a bit disrespectful of you to be trespassing."
Acting as if she had not heard anything Harry said, the old woman replied, "Someone said I might find you here."
Harry was caught off guard by this remark. He could think of no other reply, but the one he gave. "Are you looking for me?"
"Yes," she replied, now stopping only a couple of meters away.
"Well, do you know who I am?" Harry asked.
"Why, yes, Harry dear. You're Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans, grandson of Johnny Evans and Daisy Albright."
This last sentence shocked Harry. He was aware that people knew who his parents were, but except for Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, who else would have known who his mother's parents were?
"Who are you and … how did you know who my grandparents were?"
"Well, to start, my name is Rose Malfoy Albright, Hogwarts alumna 1922, house of Slytherin. Yes, go on, Harry, take your best shot. I'm a Malfoy and a Slytherin." The old woman replied with a cackle.
"Don't tempt me," Harry warned, holding his wand firmly in front of him. "So, how do you know my family so well?"
"Because, Harry, I am your maternal great-grandmother."
"How could you possibly be my great-grandmother? All my relatives are dead … err …except for a couple."
"That's what so many would want you to believe, Harry. I would explain more, but your wand is distracting me," Rose complained.
"Oh, no. The wand stays where it is. How do I know you're not a Death Eater who drank Polyjuice potion and turned yourself into this?" Harry argued.
"Search your soul, Harry. Be logical. What benefit would it serve me to come in the form of an old woman, defenseless and limited in mobility? However, if I did drink Polyjuice, you certainly would be one who would know. After all, it takes one to know one, doesn't it?" Rose teased.
Harry unconsciously began lowering his wand as he continued to listen to the woman. He watched her carefully. It was true what she said. It would be foolish to take the form of a helpless, old woman then try to do any harm to Harry now. Then again, thought Harry, it would be quite an ingenious decoy. She had proven herself to be quite a distraction if anyone else was planning to ambush him. With this thought in mind, Harry's heart began to beat rapidly. He started to frantically look around him, trying to catch sight of anyone else who might be hiding in the midst.
"Hold it. How do I know you're alone?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Dear child," the old woman sighed, "your imagination is strikingly familiar. You know, your grandmother had a gift for imagining the worst," chuckled Rose.
"Well, you can't expect me to trust you. I don't know who you are. You appear out of nowhere, rummaging through what's left of my dead parents' house. You say you're my great-grandmother, but your name is …" at that moment, Harry had another thought. The old woman smiled at him and finished his sentence.
"Malfoy and I hail from the house of Slytherin. Yessss, Harry. Now, if I were going to trick someone into believing I was benevolent, when really I was not, wouldn't it benefit me to pick a friendlier surname and more acceptable house? Wouldn't that be more logical?"
"I guess you have a point," admitted Harry.
"I'll make a deal with you. Let's get out of here. I know you wish to visit your parents' graves. I'll walk a safe distance in front of you. You can keep an eye on me. In the meantime, perhaps we'll get to know each other a little better. I'm certain you have many more questions to ask me, if I'm not mistaken," Rose suggested.
"Yeah, I have questions," Harry grunted. His wand was down by his side. The old woman nodded to him to confirm that they had an agreement. Harry gestured to her to let her know he accepted her proposal. As she passed him, he backed away a step, keeping himself a safe distance from her. Harry began to follow behind her, and once they reached the road, the old woman began to speak.
"So, Harry, once we get to your parents' graves, what do you expect to accomplish?"
"I … I dunno. I guess I just think I'll be closer to them."
"And you think going to where their bodies are buried will achieve this closeness?"
"Well, yeah. Err … well, I … I dunno," Harry replied, growing frustrated with the conversation.
"You think their spirit is there?" The old woman paused and turned around to face Harry. Harry quickly stopped. "Harry, their spirits aren't buried with their bodies. They're buried, or should I say, hidden in your heart. Only you can reveal them. As painful as it might be for a moment, you must realize that they are with you. They always have been. They always will be."
Harry had no reply to this. He stood and stared at the old woman. He realized she was probably right, but he wanted to go to the graves anyway.
"Harry," the old woman continued, "we'll go to their graves, but I must warn you, it will be a bit anticlimactic. However, if it gives you the closure you so desperately need, perhaps it's not such a bad idea." The old woman turned around and proceeded forward. "Come along, Harry." Harry followed behind for a moment, then he quickly sped up to walk beside her. The old woman glanced up at him, chuckled, then continued her painfully slow gait. They walked the remaining distance to the graveyard without another word.
Eventually they reached James and Lily Potter's graves. The old woman stopped a couple of meters short of the graves. Harry walked a bit farther so he could read their headstones. He stared at the date that marked their deaths. Harry quickly glanced at the old woman. She appeared to be mournful. She looked hollow and fragile, leaning on her cane. She looked up to meet Harry's eyes. In an instant, Harry realized that she had been telling him the truth. For, as he looked into her eyes, which were now brimming with tears, he saw how green they were. Then it struck him. The old woman was grieving. She was grieving over James and Lily.
Harry turned back to face the headstone. Another emotion emerged, and, for the first time, Harry Potter felt a deep pain of grief, unlike the one he felt for Sirius or Professor Dumbledore. This was an unmitigating pain. It reached deeper and seemed as if it would remain with Harry forever. Harry swallowed hard, and his jaw began to hurt. From behind, he could hear the old woman weeping. His tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.
Harry wiped the tears that rested on his chin and nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He reached in the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the card he planned to leave at the graves. On the envelope it was written, 'To Mum and Dad.' The old woman watched Harry as he gave a second thought to the card.
"Why would I leave this here?" Harry wondered out loud, breaking the silence. "It's not like they're gonna read it." Harry wiped away the rest of his tears with his sleeve again. The old woman, noticing that Harry was about to return the card to his back pocket, spoke up.
"Harry, leave the card."
"Why? You're right. They're not here. They're somewhere else. They were with me in the graveyard, three years ago, during the Triwizard Tournament. It's just a dumb old card. I don't know what I was thinking when I bought it."
"Harry, leave the card here and let's go."
Harry stayed put, staring at the card in his hand.
"Harry, it's nice that we came, but now it's time to go back and join the living. While it's wonderful that we remember those loved ones who have died and gone on to the next world, it is important that we do not forget the ones who still love us in this world," Rose reasoned.
"So I guess we should be getting back," Harry said.
"It would be the sensible thing to do. Besides, Ron and Hermione must be worried about you," Rose mentioned.
"Hey, how do you know about my friends?" Harry asked, a defensive tone in his voice.
"Professor Dumbledore was instrumental in keeping me abreast of your every step," Rose replied, now displaying an affectionate smile to Harry. Harry turned back and gingerly leaned the card against the headstone.
As Harry and Rose walked back toward the cemetery entrance, Harry's mind raced with questions. "So, what do I call you? Rose? Mrs. Malfoy?"
"Correction! Mrs. Albright. My maiden name was Malfoy," Rose was quick to correct.
"OK, Mrs. Albright."
"Harry, since I'm your great-grandmother, and even that would be a bit of a mouthful, why not call me grandma?" suggested Rose.
Harry smiled and nodded in agreement. As they continued to walk, Rose reached her hand out to Harry and asked, "You like chicken?"
Harry, thinking this question a bit odd, answered anyway. "Uh, yeah, why?"
"Grab a wing," Rose replied, smiling lovingly. Harry took his great-grandmother's arm and gently tucked it under his. They walked slowly out of Godric Hollow into the mid-morning sun.