Chapter 7 – Surprises at Godric's Hollow

The four of them spent the following days in the library, looking for information about Horcruxes and their destruction.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were in good spirits. They were laughing, chatting and bantering, while Malfoy was silent most of the time – which suited them just well – and threw them irritated glances every now and then.

But after a while of hard work they had searched through all the books, without the slightest success. Despite of that they were really glad that the Blacks had kept their library relatively small and manageable.

Since they didn't get ahead, they agreed to leave for Godric's Hollow on Wednesday. Harry, Ron and Hermione were looking forward to the trip with mixed feelings. For one with curiosity of course, but on the other hand also with curiously depressing solemnity. After all they would be nearer to the sad past there than anywhere else.

On the afternoon of the previous day they were in the library, Harry and Ron engaged in a heated game of wizard chess, while Hermione and Malfoy tried to concentrate on their books.

"Harry, not the bishop!" Ron warned. "My rook!"

"I should have known that even Weasley is good at something apart from looking stupid," Malfoy groaned, standing up.

He didn't even expect a comment anymore, for Harry, Ron and Hermione had formed a habit of ignoring him.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked instead, looking over her book to him.

"I'm getting a glass of water, if you don't mind," Malfoy answered.

"Oh, good. Can you get me one too?" the brown head murmured, returning to her book.

Malfoy stood rooted on the spot. Only after several seconds did he go a few steps back to his chair, sinking onto it.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"I have forgotten about you."

"Uh, so?"

"You get the water. You are the Mu-… -ggleborn"

Hermione looked at him for a moment angrily. But suddenly, while she was examining him, an idea occurred to her, one that was really out of character for her. At once her furious expression disappeared, turning into an innocent look.

"Well then. Before I die of thirst…" She got up quickly, leaving the library.

In the kitchen she filled two big glasses with water and went back, careful not to make a mess.

"I knew you would get it eventually," Malfoy murmured.

Hermione went over to him and offered him the glass. He stretched out his hand, but before he could grab it, she had raised it. A sweet smile on her lips, she poured the whole content of the glass over his head.

Triumphantly she watched him sitting there dumbfounded. "Please bear in mind that I'm not letting myself be insulted by you", she threw him a meaningful glance, "nor be bossed around." Harry and Ron looked at her and moments later they burst out in loud laughter.

Malfoy stood up, quivering in anger. His hair was completely soaked and drops of water sipped down onto his face and his shoulders. Hermione couldn't contain herself anymore and joined in Harry and Ron's laughter, which was why she didn't notice Malfoy pulling his wand. Only when he pointed it between her eyes, she fell silent. So did Harry and Ron.

"What. Were. You. Thinking!" Malfoy ground out.

Suddenly Hermione's idea didn't seem so good anymore. Maybe she should have avoided the trouble? Now the mood would drop to the bottom again… but she just hadn't been able to resist. He had more than deserved it.

Thankfully, this time Harry and Ron were around. They would hex Malfoy black and blue, if he harmed her.

Suddenly Malfoy performed a movement with his wand and Hermione was expecting a bolt of lightning, pain or being flung against the shelf.

But nothing like that happened. First she wondered perplexedly, what he had done, until she noticed that her own glass of water had freed itself from her grip and was now slowly flying upwards. It stopped just above her head.

A small "Oh" escaped Hermione's lips.

Malfoy snapped his fingers and a split second later Hermione felt the ice- cold water pouring over her head, shoulders and face. She ran her hand over her head. Her hair was completely soaked, hanging down flatly. She should have expected something like that! If only she hadn't filled her glass to the top.

She brushed a streak of wet hair off her face angrily, catching Malfoy's gaze, who was grinning superiorly. He raised his wand and dried his hair and cloak with it.

Hermione averted her eyes and reached into her pocket to follow his action. But her fingers fumbled for her wand to no avail.

"Are you looking for this, Granger?" Malfoy said, holding her wand in his hand.

"Give it back!" Hermione hissed.

"Sure. But only if you don't ever do that again. If you do, the next time the consequences will be much more… amusing."

He wiggled her wand and Hermione felt her hair and her coat drying up. She hastily snatched it out of his hand, clutching it tightly to her chest.

"Your hair looks much better wet, Granger. Not so… bushy." He turned his back to her and strolled out of the library.

"This… bloody… bastard!" Hermione mumbled, turning around to Harry and Ron. Both boys were staring at her with big round eyes.

"What?" she asked irritated.

"Well… Mione… your hair," Ron stammered. He couldn't suppress a grin anymore.

"What about my –" Hermione took a confounded look on her hair, which were dry and bushy, but had adopted a bright green color.

"Aaarrg!" she screamed, clenching her fists. She took several deep breaths to calm herself. Then she waved her wand surly, which turned her hair back to its natural brown.

The following morning Hermione had neither carried out her personal vendetta against the Slytherin nor come up with the slightest idea of a plan. But she still had enough time.

Today the focus was on Godric's Hollow and she didn't want to additionally burden Harry with silliness. The black- haired boy was extremely quiet and thoughtful this morning. He would be returning to his parents' home for the first time in sixteen years after all.

They didn't have any idea what they would look for or do there, but they hoped for clues that would help them somehow.

The question whether Malfoy should come along, had resolved quickly. Even if they were uncomfortable with inviting him into the home of the Potters, they found it worse by far to leave him behind alone and unguarded.

They left the house after breakfast.

Outside the sun was shining. Bright sunrays broke through the few clouds and warmed their faces. It would be a pleasant day.

Harry took a deep breath. "I hope I can make it." Hermione knew that he didn't mean the fact that he almost couldn't remember his parents' house at all, so it was hard to concentrate on it. Apparating was also getting more complicated, if you take another person with you, and in this case they were four.

Harry took Ron and Hermione by the arms.

Malfoy seemed about to say something, but closed his mouth again. He looked from Hermione to Ron and eventually grabbed Hermione's forearm, for she was closer to him.

Hermione wondered what Muggles would think, if they saw them like this. Harry, who was holding onto Ron and her, closed his eyes and concentrated. His grasp became tighter and Hermione's arm hurt slightly.

Malfoy's grip was tight, but fortunately not painful. Hermione remembered just too well how her shoulder had hurt from his fingers piercing into it.

She was yanked along with Harry with a sudden jerk.

Moments later they found themselves standing many kilometers away in a beautiful green garden.

They looked around curiously. There was no one to be seen on the street, which was lined by houses with gardens on both sides. From their location they couldn't say how big the place was, but Hermione assumed that it was a village.

At the end of the garden path, on which they were standing, was the Potters' house. It looked neat and inviting with light-colored walls and large windows. The garden around them was trimmed and well-tended. Yellow and white roses stretched their heads towards the sun and Hermione could smell their sweet scent.

"So… what do you think… who could be living here?" Ron asked into the jolly twitter of the birds.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had wondered, if the house would be empty or if someone was living here.

Harry didn't answer, but let his eyes sweep over each meter of the house and the property. Malfoy was standing silently and motionlessly behind them, waiting with his hands in his pockets.

"I guess we should just ring the bell," Hermione suggested.

They walked to the white front door. There they looked for a bell to no avail. There was none, nor a knocker or a mail box which could tell them who was living here.

"Well, then we'll just have to knock," Hermione said.

Harry raised his fist and knocked on the door three times. Nobody answered and so Harry knocked again, but the door didn't open.

The three Gryffindors exchanged helpless glances. What now? Turn back? Wait?

Ron murmured "It's worth a try" and pushed the handle – the door was indeed opening.

After a surprised silence Hermione asked: "Do you think we should go in?"

Harry nodded and quietly stepped through the door, followed by Hermione, Ron and Malfoy, who closed the door behind him.

They were standing in a small corridor with three doors leading to other rooms. The wallpaper was of a pale yellow, there were a mirror and a wardrobe at the wall. Everything was clean, but otherwise there was no sign that someone was living here.

Harry suggested to simply open the next best door, when suddenly the second door on the left swung open. They spun around shocked, their wands on the ready.

Behind them there was a haggard, tall person with a long grey beard, watching them with a silent smile.

Ron examined the man in the door with a confused face. Malfoy had raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry inquiringly.

But Hermione knew, who the man was, and opened her mouth, but Harry beat her to it.

"What are you doing here?"

The landlord of the Hog's Head peered at them one by one, before turning to Harry again.

"I have been waiting for you. Come on in." He turned around and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Malfoy followed him.

They stepped into a room, which was clearly the living room. One sofa and two armchairs were standing around a small wooden table invitingly. The landlord had already sat down and crossed his long legs, while beckoning them to take a seat as well.

Ron, Hermione and Malfoy sat on the sofa. Harry settled down in the second armchair.

The room had two large windows, through which bright daylight was streaming in. On the walls there were pictures and photographs and it wasn't difficult for Hermione to find Harry's parents, Sirius, Lupin and Peter.

They fell into a depressing silence, when they all stared at the traitor, his victims and Sirius, who smiled back so cheerfully. On the right wall there was a small, completely tidy fireplace beside the shelves full of books.

Harry cleared his throat and asked his question again: "What are you doing here?"

The landlord answered with twinkling eyes: "Yes, yes. I see. You don't know who I am?"

"You are the Hog's Head's landlord."

"Right, right. That's true. But you don't know who I am? Astonishing that my brother didn't even tell you, Harry, about it."

"Your brother?" Harry echoed confusedly.

"Yes, my brother. He declared me insane, when I would rather introduce my goats to him than listen to stories about you. But he told me anyway," the landlord murmured, for a moment lost in thoughts.

Hermione's eyes widened… was it even possible?

"You… you are… Dumbledore's brother?"

The landlord chuckled pleased. "Perfect! That's how it's supposed to be! Yes, I'm Aberforth. Albus told me that you are a clever little witch. I witnessed it myself some time ago, do you remember? You and Mr. Weasley are Harry's friends, but Albus never told me about a blond boy… he looks like a Malfoy. What is he doing here?"

Aberforth's eyes were now looking at Malfoy, who returned his glance with frowned expression.

"Maybe you should answer Potter's question first, before we let him in on our business."

"Potter's question? Not Harry's?" Dumbledore's brother asked, raising an eyebrow.

No one said anything.

"Well then. I have waited for you, Harry."

"I'm here now," Harry replied. "What do you want?"

Hermione noticed that Harry didn't know how to react, now that Dumbledore's forgotten brothers had suddenly appeared. She wondered why it had never occurred to her that the landlord was related to Dumbledore. Now that they knew, it seemed completely obvious.

"I don't want much. First I wanted to make sure that you come back here. If you hadn't come, I would have fetched you of course," the old man explained.

"Albus found it extremely important that you know one thing: I'm always at the Hog's Head and should you need any help, just come to me and I'll inform the Order. Do you understand? Good, good. I'm supposed to tell you from Albus that he had spoken the truth at all times, even if not everything. He had always made judgments after detailed consideration and wants you to know that he is… was one hundred percent behind your decisions."

"When did he tell you that?" Harry asked, leaning forward in his armchair eagerly.

"A few days before he went off with you…" Aberforth stared at the wall, till he continued: "He had still trusted Severus with all his heart. He had believed him until the last moment… I would have never thought that he would make such a big mistake…"

Aberforth's eyes wandered to Malfoy and it was obvious what he was thinking. Eventually he spoke it out loudly and seriously: "I don't know, what has gotten into you to trust him, but I want to warn you. Albus hasn't died to let his mistakes be repeated all over again. You should turn him over to the Order or the Aurors. Be assured: the faster you get rid of him, the better."

Malfoy's face didn't betray his thoughts and feelings. His glance looked rather indifferent, as if he hadn't understood his words.

"I don't think your brother would have approved it," Harry said loudly. "He would have trusted Malfoy, if he had lived to see his switching sides. I was there, when he talked to Malfoy."

"My brother also trusted Severus," Aberforth replied. "Believe me, Harry. I spent my whole life at the Hog's Head with just this kind of vermins, with dubious appearances. They offered me or Albus services, but they were always scoundrels. Think of Mundungus…"

"I don't think, you can compare me with those people," Malfoy declared in his usual arrogant manner.

"No, no. Not at all!" Aberforth called. "You are and you can do so much more than those little thieves or cheaters."

"Oh, stop it. I do, what I say, not like some treacherous finger smiths. But if nobody trusts me, fine! Do you think it matters to me?"

"They are right not to trust you," Aberforth said, while he picked a stray straw out of his beard.

"I trust him!" Harry said quietly, but with absolute conviction.

"You see? Potter knows what a Malfoy's word is worth."

"Harry! You fool, isn't that the boy who had been your archenemy for so long? Look at his family! Merlin's beard, why do you trust him?" Aberforth seemed a little angry about Harry's allegedly obvious stupidity.

"The reasons are very… personal."

"Oh, really? Well, Severus' reasons were too…"

"Harry, shall we take a look at the other rooms?" Hermione asked after a while.

The three boys and Hermione stood up.

"The bedroom is right over there," Aberforth said with low voice. He remained seated, pulled a pipe out of the pocket of his filthy coat and watched them leave the room.

Harry stood in front of the wooden door and opened it very slowly.

The room behind it was slightly smaller than the living room. Under the window there was a freshly made king-size bed. On the right wall they saw a large cupboard, also made of wood. The floor was laid out with a light- colored carpet. In the middle of the room there was a cradle. Harry's cradle.

This was the place. The room, in which it had happened. It was here that Harry had lost his parents and Harry's story and Voldemort's demise had begun.

Hermione stepped forward and laid a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. He was standing by the cradle, looking around with painful expression, searching.

No one dared to make a sound. An odd tension seemed to surround them, while they simply stood there.

Hermione was suddenly gripped by grief. The thought of growing up without parents was terrible for her and unimaginable. She had seen her family rarely in the last years, but they had always been an important part of her life. Her idols she had looked up to.

She was impressed by Harry once again. By how he had managed to become such a good and loving person despite of the Dursleys and that he had never stopped fighting in spite of all those losses.

Hermione didn't know how long they had been just standing there.

No one wanted to say anything to not rip Harry out of his train of thoughts.

Eventually Harry stepped to his parents' bed, turning his glance to a framed picture hanging on the wall over the front end. Hermione could only imagine it to be of him and his parents, for she was too far away to see it exactly.

Harry paused in front of the bed and reached out his hands to the picture as if in trance. He grabbed the frame, took it from the wall and stared at it for a few minutes. At the first moment Hermione thought his eyes were filling with tears.

Harry turned the frame around and ran a hand over the backside. Hermione had barely time to wonder about it, for suddenly a pale light appeared. Harry's hand dissolved in the rays, which expired soon.

Hermione saw amazedly that Harry was now holding a coiled up piece of parchment in his hand. He unrolled it with shaky fingers and started to read. Already after a few lines he sank down onto the bed.

While he was reading, his face changed continuously. From grief to anger to incredulousness.

When he had finished it, Hermione couldn't see, what he was thinking. His face had taken on a peculiar expression, when he handed the parchment to her and Ron.

They began to read curiously.

My dear Harry,

I don't know if you have ever watched a Muggle- movie or read a book in which someone learns about important things from his mother or father on the day he comes of age.

It should have been like that with you too. I wanted to tell you, what I have written down here. Since you have now found this letter, I'm apparently not with you anymore to tell you in person.

I don't know how old you are now, but I hope you will understand what I want to tell you. I'm sure, if not today, eventually you will understand when you experience a similar situation.

Don't expect too much now. I want to pass experiences and events of my life down to you.

You have to know, Harry, that I have had three men in my life (apart from you). My father, your father and his worst enemy of his school time. Please don't be mad, if you read this, but continue and let me explain.

James was in Gryffindor with me and his friends, as you know without a doubt. He was in the Quidditch- Team as well (he was a really brilliant player) and had never had problems in school. He was (and is) handsome, popular and always good- humored.

Severus, whom I'm now going to tell you about, was almost the complete opposite.

He was in Slytherin, an introverted, quiet boy (I don't know if he has ever been on a broom). The only thing he had in common with James was that he had never had problems in class as well. Maybe someone has told you that I was quite good in Potions?

Well, Severus was too. He had more knowledge and talent on this field than me by far. He was patient and had the required finesse which all the other boys lacked at his age – probably after that as well.

Severus didn't speak much and when he did, only with the Slytherins. I don't know why, but in the fifth grade I started to pay more attention to him. I was attracted to him in an inexplicable way. Don't get me wrong, Harry, I have never been in love with him, neither has he been with me!

I wanted to learn more about him, for I had never had anything to do with his sort of people.

So I tried to engage him in a conversation in the library. He was often there, reading books most people get a headache from.

Well, I tried to talk to him, of course about Potions. But he didn't speak with me because I was a Gryffindor, because I was Muggle- born (he was a Halfblood), because he didn't talk much anyway or maybe also because he knew that James wanted to go out with me. You must know that James and Sirius, your godfather, had never left out an opportunity to curse him and to call him "Snivelly". Of course Severus followed suit to defend himself, but he was always alone, while James and Sirius were at least in pairs.

Be that as it may, eventually Severus talked to me in the sarcastic way that was usual for Slytherins with brains. I decided to answer him in the same manner. He was surprised that I was even able to make such comments, being the model- Gryffindor that I was. From then on we talked more often and after weeks or months some sort of friendship had formed between us.

Nobody knew about it.

In the seventh year I fell in love with your father. He had changed, wasn't the arrogant boy hexing everyone anymore. He had grown up. Only Severus remained his victim.

James and I became an item and blinded by love I cut all ties with Severus, without noticing what it triggered in him.

He didn't love me. That I can tell for sure. It was the fact that I cold-shouldered him I favor of the wonderful, golden James.

Two years did the connection between me and Severus last and during that time I discovered that he was not only intelligent and capable, but also… human. He seemed so inhumane from the outside, but I noticed that this was exactly what made him so human! He wanted to protect himself. I never found out the reason, but I think, it had something to do with his family.

But he could be different. I felt really comfortable in his company, even if I was well aware the whole time that he was a Slytherin with all his heart.

Well, I gave him up and lived happily with James. We graduated and moved in together.

One time Albus informed us that Severus had joined the Death Eaters some time ago.

I was so desperate, for I blamed myself for it, and told James everything. He was surprised, but not angry. And he said that it wasn't my fault. He said that my actions may have contributed to Severus' decisions, but it was him, Severus, after all, who had been ready to become a Death Eater. Of course your father was right, but up until today I feel a little guilty – or rather sad.

But shortly before your birth something happened that made me really happy: Severus returned! From then on he worked as a spy for Albus. I have never talked to him again. No one was allowed to meet him, if it would raise even the slightest suspicion. And there wasn't anyone who wanted to meet him anyway, apart from me…

I don't know how it happened, how Voldemort found us. I hope Sirius, Remus and Peter are well. Anyway, it happened and this is now the only possibility to tell you this:

I think Harry, you already know, what I'm getting at.

But I'm writing it down for you as the only advice that I will possibly be able to give you. I don't know.

Severus was the best example for to never judge someone by his appearance. I don't mean just the looks. Nobody would have believed me that you could spend cozy hours with him, that he could be humorous, polite and friendly. For no one has ever made an effort to even try to look behind his facade of impassibility. So he was indeed, almost impassive. You could only see anger and sneer in his expression, neither joy nor sadness nor any other feelings. He never laughed. Not in other people's presence anyway.

Had I or someone else done a little bit more for him, maybe he would have been on our side from the beginning and wouldn't have to risk his life as a spy. But he did and no one thanked him for it, apart from Albus. Albus is also the only one who trusted him with all his heart. Severus confided something to Albus I don't have any idea about.

You have met him probably. I don't know if he's still teaching in Hogwarts, for he was to take a job there and spy for Voldemort.

I know he would let you sense what he thought of James. But I also know that he would never seriously harm you, Harry. Believe me, he would never touch a hair on a student's head.

I wish from all my heart that you have friends like Sirius, Remus and Peter had been to us. I'm so glad that you are reading this letter now, since it means that Voldemort hasn't killed you and that a matter Severus and I had talked about a long time ago had cleared…

Harry, if you know Severus, I want to ask you to tell him that I have always been sorry and tell him that six was right, not five, and that I was right.

I hope he will understand and explain it to you.

You can't imagine how relieved I would be, if you passed this to him.

All my love,

Lily

"Oh god," Hermione breathed. She was staring at the letters. "But… Snape… your mother… oh Harry!" She turned to him and noticed tears of pain in his sparkling green eyes. She hurried to him and threw her arms around him. Ron sat next to them on the bed, not knowing whether he should look angry at Snape or pitiful for Harry.

Hermione laid the letter on Harry's lap and stroked his back comfortingly. She felt a light tremble, when he spoke.

"I can't believe it," he said with raspy voice. "Why did everybody come a mucker? My Mum… she couldn't know… it was his fault!" He gulped. Feelings and thoughts were twirling wildly. He didn't know what to make of it.

This was the only request his mother would ever ask of him and he wouldn't be able to grant it. He couldn't.

"He told Voldemort about the prophecy," Harry whispered, staring at the parchment on his lap mesmerized.

Suddenly he turned his glance to Malfoy, who was standing in front of the door, examining the scene with an unreadable expression.

Harry did something that made Hermione and Ron raise their heads in surprise. He stretched out his arm and held his mother's letter out to him.

Malfoy stared at the parchment, then into Harry's emerald eyes and at the letter again. Harry nodded. The blond came over quietly and reached for the parchment.