A/N As of posting the email notifications are still down, but I generally post weekly chapters every Sunday, by midday UTC time. You can also subscribe to this story on Archive Of Our Own under the same username, killtherat.

Their journey from the Ministry was as smooth as their arrival, Harry's brief interlude to speak to Scrimgeour the only thing that held them up. Taking the Floo from Bones's old office they travelled straight back to the Burrow, returning to the safety and relative peace of the living room - but the peace was not to last. As one by one they arrived in the fireplace everyone's happiness and relief began to spill over, Mrs Weasley declaring the occasion called for tea and cake to a chorus of rousing agreement.

It was perhaps only ten minutes in which had to Harry smile and carry on as the rest of them did, but never before had he wanted to leave the Burrow, let alone so desperately. It was a strange state of mind to occupy, to want to leave a place he normally felt so at home in favour of going to Godric's Hollow, which he was still on the fence about. But what he really wanted was solitude, to be alone with himself while the enormity of what just unfolded was beginning to settle.

Nothing felt at all the way it was meant to. The joy experienced by others felt distant to him, and though he craved to share in it he simply could not. It was completely overwhelming, particularly everyone else's relief at seeing Lucius Malfoy publicly acknowledged as a Death Eater and being sentenced to Azkaban something they had waited a long time for - especially the Weasleys.

Mrs Weasley was putting on a pot of tea, she and Ginny talking animatedly as they bustled around the kitchen, Mr Weasley and Sirius talking too, both pleased with the outcome. But while Harry nodded along and said all the right things he wished only that he could leave. But keeping a close eye on him meant Sirius caught on pretty quickly that not all was well, and so he swiftly made their excuses.

'We can't stay for tea, sorry Molly,' he apologised, declining the plate of cake that came soaring over to him. 'Really, we have to go. The Order's waiting, we won't have much time in Godric's Hollow.'

Despite Mrs Weasley imploring them to stay for just one cup of tea they quickly made their departure, Harry saying a hasty goodbye to Ginny who had also picked up that all was not well. Glad to be leaving it all behind he wasted no time in leaving, and neither he or Sirius said a word as they crossed the garden towards the property boundary. But all the while he could feel Sirius's eyes on him, watching him in concern.

It didn't seem to matter that every time he got a little more used to it - Harry hated apparating. When they arrived at their new destination he gulped in a deep breath and steadied himself, letting go of Sirius's arm.

They had apparated to a Muggle laneway, and despite his reservations about coming to Godric's Hollow Harry felt his spirits lift a little. The laneway was pretty, a large flowering tree in someone's front garden encroaching the footpath and littering it with bright pink petals. Lining each side of the laneway were cottages, nothing fancy - some with weeds in the garden or a stone wall in need or repair, others with lush flowerbeds and ceramic garden gnomes. A little sign in a nearby window read 'The house was clean yesterday. Sorry you missed it.'

Further down the laneway a Muggle car was passing through an intersection, slowing to check to oncoming traffic. Then behind them came the chatter of school children in the distance, walking home together in their maroon school uniforms. Harry watched them go, the children dawdling as they talked at leisure, completely unaware they were being observed. He wondered if that might have been him in another life, if he would have attended the Muggle primary school before going to Hogwarts. His mum might have insisted on sending him...or maybe he would have been home schooled like many other wizards.

'Alright?' Sirius murmured, sounding concerned.

Realising they hadn't spoken a word since farewelling the Weasleys Harry nodded. 'Yeah,' he said lightly. He did not want the subject of the Hearing or Malfoy to be raised, and so he feigned more interest in the streetscape around them. Sirius was still watching him critically, but perhaps he knew not to push things...not today at least.

'This way.'

Falling into step with one another they made their way down the lane towards what seemed to be the centre of the village, moving up onto the footpath when a Muggle car turned down onto the lane. As it passed Harry looked in, observing the two Muggle children who were rowing in the back seat, their mother driving and singing uproariously loudly to drown them out. Could that have been him? Stuck in the back seat of a car arguing with a younger sibling while their mother resorted to caterwauling to make them stop?

The laneway curved slightly at the end as they reached the heart of Godric's Hollow, a small town square. In the centre was what looked like a war memorial, and surrounding it were several muggle shops, a post office, a pub and a little church with stained glass windows. As they crossed the road Sirius pointed towards the church, clearing his throat before speaking.

'They had your christening there. Your mum wanted it done in a church. And that pub is where we started your Dad's Stag night.'

'Started?' Harry questioned, feeling a little distracted. His eyes swept from the church over to the pub.

'It was a...multi-location affair. A pub crawl,' he clarified, trailing off briefly. He turned around now, looking for something, and then with a deep breath he pointed to a row of flower beds. 'And that's where your mum collected us the next morning. She wasn't thrilled with the state we were in,' he said lightly, the flicker of a smile crossing his face. 'But her Hen's night was no Bible study.'

There was an awkward pause, and Sirius was looking to the war memorial now. Harry waited patiently until Sirius ushered him to follow, and when they moved closer Harry's heart simultaneously leapt into his throat and sank into the pit of his stomach. What had been a tall obelisk began to transform, revealing a statue of three people - a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind face, and a baby sitting in her arms.

Sirius it seemed had been expecting this, but unlike Harry he couldn't seem to look at it. Leaving him behind Harry moved closer and looked up at his mum and dad in fascination. The statue was elevated from the ground on a plinth, but at a fair guess the figures depicted were more or less life size. Even standing below he could estimate that he would be taller than his mum - though still inches off matching his dad.

It felt strange to recognise their faces depicted in white marble, to see their likenesses reflected so fully right there in front of him...just like that night in the graveyard when they came to him, just like in that memory when he saw his mother and Snape. In those moments they had been real, they felt alive and true even though he knew that was not the case. Their depiction in marble carried none of that, but still...it was all three of them together.

Stepping back from the statue he returned to Sirius's side, observing the statue a little longer and wondering who had erected it. Who had crafted it, who oversaw it and made sure it truly reflected the likeness of James and Lily. Had they laboured over it knowing that one day James and Lily's son would come to see it?

Conscious of how uncomfortable Sirius was he didn't force him to linger any longer. To Sirius this was something to be endured, and so Harry didn't drag anything out, and a quiet murmur was all he needed that they move on elsewhere. When they crossed the road he glanced back over his shoulder, watching him and his parents transform back into the obelisk.

Sirius was leading him towards the church, behind which was the graveyard. Though he said he'd not been to Godric's Hollow in years it seemed he knew where he was going, and Harry wondered if he had actually been here more recently than he let on. Maybe he had come when he was on the run, probably as Padfoot the loveable stray. He'd not said anything about it, and so Harry wouldn't ask. It was, after all, grief that would have brought him there.

Behind the church there was a gate at the entrance to the graveyard, row upon row of neatly laid out tombstones, some shaded by a lush willow tree in the centre. Allowing Sirius to lead the way he looked around in curiosity, recognising some of the names like Abbott and others of the Sacred Twenty Eight, sometimes several generations of the same family. And though Sirius was leading his eyes darted around anxiously, not wanting to miss his parents, as if somehow he might accidentally go straight past them.

Of course that wasn't to happen. On the far the graveyard Sirius slowed to a stop, gesturing ahead of them, and it seemed that just like the memorial statue he couldn't quite bring himself to look at the place where his friends were buried. But Harry couldn't look away, hurrying forward as though physically compelled.

The same white marble of their statue in the town square, James and Lily shared a headstone. Harry stared at it, his eyes roaming the inscription of their names and the dates of their birth and death and studying them as though he was to learn them for the first time. But the words beneath elicited an edge of panic, making him read and re-read them until he was certain it was not a mistake.

'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.' He turned to Sirius. 'That's...unusual.'

'Lupin chose it.'

'Isn't that a Death Eater idea? Destroying death?'

Sirius shook his head, and he turned to look at the headstone now, his jaw flexing a moment. 'It means living beyond death.'

This answer didn't mean much. Harry stared at the inscription again, thinking unkindly that he hated it. Lily and James were not living, they were gone. They didn't know their son was there. That he was alive because of their sacrifice, that he suffered so greatly in their absence that sometimes he wished they had never bothered giving their lives for him. To say that they had destroyed death and carried on living...it was meaningless.

The empty words of an inscription did not change the fact that they were dead.

Quite suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. The thought that his parents' remains lay six feet below him decaying in a casket was awful. What a terrible fate, he thought to himself. This was all they had become. Two decaying corpses. He'd never thought of death that way before, and instantly he decided that he was to be cremated, not buried.

'Your grandparents are over there,' Sirius mentioned, pointing a few rows away. 'Do you w-'

'No,' he said abruptly. It felt as though something heavy was pressing on his chest, a physical grief that weighed on his heart. 'I want to go.'

It had been barely a minute but he couldn't stand to linger - he couldn't stand another second. The pressure on his chest wasn't easing, and when he stepped back away from his parents' grave he made a small gasp for breath. He wanted to leave and never come back, but at the same time he absolutely could not look away. Split in two he didn't know what to do.

To his surprise Sirius managed to go forward now, and he could see the tremble in his hand when he took out his wand and conjured a bouquet of white roses. He offered them to Harry, but when he shook his head Sirius laid them down himself, placing them on the middle of the shared grave.

Tears were coming before Harry could stop them, and though he had asked to leave he couldn't move a single foot. Nor could Sirius, and his face was set in a hard grimace from tying to be strong in front of Harry until he succumbed too. In silence they stood with one another and looked at the grave, their grief no longer something that could be hidden to spare the other.

Harry hated this feeling, having never truly experienced grief like this before. He'd always known that he'd suffered an unusual loss, that most people were raised by both if not one of their parents. Though he naturally envied his luckier friends for their good fortune he'd never truly felt the loss the way he did now. But compounding his grief was the shock of anger creeping in at the edges of his mind, the frustration that so much had been taken from all three of them. It wasn't just him who had suffered a loss - Lily and James didn't get to raise their son. They didn't even get to live past twenty one.

Might the last year have been different, he wondered, had his parents been raising him? Even if what happened at the graveyard or Malfoy Manor couldn't have been prevented, would things be different for him now? Would he have endured the same circumstances of the last year with his parents in his corner, or would it have been easier?

Harry was the first to make a move, taking a step back that signalled to Sirius he really did want to go. A few moments passed before he responded, and then Sirius too stepped away and they fell into step alongside one another, leaving the cemetery.

'The Diggory's want me to come to Cedric's memorial.'

When he spoke his throat painful, barely holding himself together. They were approaching the muggle square again, and this time neither of them could bear to look at the memorial statue of James and Lily.

'Do you want to go?' Sirius asked, making it sound simple.

The answer was a vehement no. He never wanted to see the Diggorys again. He never wanted to hear or think about them ever. The idea that Cedric had died right in front of him was still too much to bear - a year later he struggled to face his own grief over his death, let alone bear the grief of his parents. So he absolutely did not want to go. But...

'I don't think I get to say no.'

'You don't have to go if you don't want to.'

A pause fell between them now, Harry mulling it over. A muggle passed them with a carry bag full of groceries and looked at them curiously, noticing they'd both been crying.

'It's the twenty fourth, right?'

Harry nodded. 'Half of Hufflepuff is going. Heaps of other students too.'

'I can go with you if that makes a difference,' he offered. 'We'll arrive last and sit at the back. We can be out of there before anyone notices. Best way to do those things to be honest.'

Appreciative of the offer Harry nodded, agreeing. This was an arrangement he could deal with. 'Thanks.'

With that agreement reached they lingered there awkwardly, both unsure of what to do next. Against his better judgement Harry looked back towards the graveyard, relieved that he had been there...relieved that Sirius had conjured the flowers instead of letting him go right away.

Finally Sirius spoke. 'Do you want to see the house?'

Again, it was a vehement no. He had changed his mind. Seeing his parents' grave was bad enough, he didn't want to see the house where they had died as well. But he knew what a gift this opportunity was, that he might not get the chance again to go there safely...to go with Sirius.

Not trusting himself to speak he nodded in agreement, and then Sirius led him across the square and back down the pretty laneway in which they had arrived. After a few blocks they passed the quaint little primary school of stone buildings and metal play equipment, and in the block after a busy football field. Muggle parents lingered around the sidelines to watch their children playing, one man in a grey suit cheering and clapping as the children raced back and forth after the ball. Most parents were watching from the grass or the comfort of fold up camp chairs, one mum sitting in the open boot of her station wagon.

Would Harry have played muggle football there after school? Did the wizarding community have a Little League Quidditch competition? If they did it surely was no stretch of the imagination to picture his dad cheering him on from the sidelines, maybe coaching the team on weekends.

They crossed over a wide river, Harry slowing halfway across the bridge and looking out at the village on either side. Godric's Hollow was larger than he imagined it being, and despite his initial reservations about seeing his parents' home he was glad to be there. A small part of him felt the sense of attachment he had hoped for, the hope that this walk through the village might go on for hours or that he might get the chance to come back here again.

Weeks were spent traipsing the streets of Surrey...why couldn't he spend weeks traipsing the streets of Godrics Hollow, his actual home?

On the other side of the river the village felt quieter though no less pleasant, but the absence of activity felt more conspicuous here. There was a muggle walking their dog and a woman watering her front garden, and from somewhere the sound of children playing...but that was it.

Now the silence between him and Sirius felt more obvious, and watching him from the corner of his eye he got the feeling that Sirius was working himself up to something. Worried about what it might be, for the subject of Malfoy and the Hearing was intolerable right now, Harry spoke first. It wasn't particularly the time or place he had planned to bring this up, but it was something good...something he wanted Sirius to know.

'I suppose I should probably tell you outright,' he started, beginning to feel a little shy about it. He glanced up, making sure that Sirius was listening, and then he continued. 'It's me and Ginny...we're going out.'

As if clouds had parted Sirius brightened, his demeanour changing as the hint of a smirk crossed his face. 'That's great,' he said cheerfully. 'When did, uh...when did th-'

'You can quit pretending you didn't know,' Harry interrupted him, rolling his eyes. 'The Weasleys told us they already knew.'

Seeing the jig was up Sirius grinned in delight, now properly smirking as he playfully jostled Harry's hair. 'You little heartbreaker,' he teased, clapping him on the back now. 'I thought you were writing to her more than necessary!'

'I - what?' Harry flustered, properly embarrassed now 'That's not - it wasn't the letters,' he said in exasperation, having been through this particular subject with Ron. He trailed off with a sigh, allowing Sirius to tease and get it out of his system.

'Your first proper girlfriend, and you choose a witch with six older brothers?' he laughed jovially, not letting up. 'You're either incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid.'

Harry flustered again. 'Well since when do the portraits snitch on people?' he exclaimed. 'I've gotten up to loads of stuff before and they never snitched on me!'

'Well you must have made quite an impression on your audience, word got back to Phineas Nigellus pretty quickly.'

'Fantastic,' Harry sighed. 'So he's the one who told you?'

'Told the whole Order during a meeting. I was still in St Mungos, but Molly and Arthur wasted no time in passing the news on. They had some interesting thoughts on the matter.'

Harry looked up in alarm. 'They were fine about it. They were happy for us.'

'I'm sure they were, but uhhh,' he said, looking at him sympathetically. 'You and I need to have a conversation I intended to procrastinate over.'

Harry frowned, not understanding what the Weasley's were so bothered about - and then it hit him. 'Wha- no! It's fine,' he said firmly, his cheeks growing hot. 'I've...got it figured.'

Sirius let out his typical bark like laugh, and now it seemed he was enjoying himself again. 'Yeah yeah, I'm sure you know everything.'

'Well I don't need you to tell me how it works, okay?'

'I remember being fifteen. I didn't know a witc-'

'You can stop,' he pleaded, wishing he'd never brought up the subject. 'We don't need to talk about - shagging,' he said lamely.

'Let me make the situation clear,' he persisted, still smirking in amusement. 'You can have this conversation with me, or you can have it with Arthur.'

Harry's heart faltered, and his response was immediate. 'You.'

'Thought that would make you see reason. It's been suggested that we knock it over before you visit for the summer.'

Despite his embarrassment Harry's spirits lifted, and he managed to look Sirius in the eye. 'I'm going to the Burrow for summer?'

'For part of it at least. Molly will be taking heads if she can't get her hands on you.'

'And Grimmauld Place?'

'If you want.'

'Of course I do.'

Harry's next question hung between them, and knowing it must be answered Sirius slowed to a stop. He looked him in the eye. 'You do have to go back to Surrey. A couple of weeks at least.'

Holding his gaze Harry challenged him. 'Says who?'

'Dumbledore.'

'I thought we don't listen to Dumbledore anymore.'

At this Sirius grimace, and he took a deep breath. He looked around a few moments to collect his thoughts, and when he spoke he had lowered his voice quite significantly. 'I stand by what I said. What Dumbledore asked you to do...I'll never trust him again. He put your life at risk. He used you.'

'It was my idea.'

'He used you,' Sirius repeated. 'With no regard for the risk you were taking.'

'But I still have to go to the Dursley's on his say so?'

'Yes.'

'So which is it?' he demanded, his temper flaring. 'We trust him or we don't?'

'Keep your voice down,' Sirius warned. 'You know the Order are nearby.'

Harry huffed impatiently, but he settled his tone. 'Either I can trust Dumbledore, or I can't. Which is it?'

'You can trust him...but you need to be careful with that trust.'

'That's not an answer.'

'It's the only one I can give.'

Quite dissatisfied Harry dropped it nonetheless. The warning about the Order nearby made him hold his tongue. There would be opportunity to bring it up at another time, an opportunity to properly probe Sirius for a difinitive answer. The notion that he should both trust and mistrust Dumbledore simultaneously was a conclusion he had already drawn himself - but he wanted Sirius to be clearer.

'So how long do I have to stay there?' he asked sourly, the two of them setting off again.

'I don't know, but it won't be like last summer,' Sirius assured him. 'There will be changes, including that cat flap on your bedroom door. And I'll be able to visit more. I'm a free man now, I can go where I please.'

'Promise me. It won't be like last summer.'

'You have my word.'

Trusting this, and trusting that this time Sirius could actually follow through on his word, Harry dropped this subject too. The notion that he wouldn't have to spend summer at the Dursley's was always too good to be true - he had known to expect it, but this didn't lessen the dread he felt. Still, the prospect that Sirius would actually visit this time made it feel a little more bearable.

It was another three blocks before they turned left down a new street, and as they did Harry looked at the street name posted on a low stone wall on the corner. Flinders Lane.

The lane was alike the others they had passed through that afternoon, flanked by rows of houses, Muggle cars parked precariously in tiny driveways or on the street - but despite this the laneway felt quaint and welcoming. A cat sitting on a stone fence watched them warily, its hackles raising as they drew nearer, and it stared at Sirius all the while, perhaps sensing what he was.

Harry paid the cat very little attention. The rows of houses were detached cottages now, the gardens bigger and everything a little more spread out. In the distance ahead of him he could see where the laneway turned into open country. They were at the edge of the village, and so surely...

And there it was. Unmissable. The only house in the lane whose hedges and gardens were overgrown. The only house on Flinders Lane missing the right side of the top floor.

Harry's feet carried him faster now, leaving Sirius behind as he crossed the road and strode on ahead. His eyes were fixed on the house, and he couldn't look away. Had a car been passing it would have run him over.

Reaching the house he came to a stop and looked up at it, taking it all in. It seemed the Fidelius charm had died at the same time as his parents, and in the nearly fifteen years that had passed the garden had grown wild, the hedges and tree in the front taller than him, the weeds and grass waist high. He stood at the wooden gate casting his eyes around, hearing the slow footsteps of Sirius who was catching up to him, not saying a word.

He stared at the gaping hole in the roof, the one that looked like a gaping wound. There were exposed beams, splintered and blown apart, the red roof shingles in tatters, some looking as though they were just hanging on. The sight of it made his heart ache, his stomach twisting at the thought that the whole house looked ready to collapse, the entire right side drooping. What was once white plaster was crumbling in places to reveal bare bricks, decorative timber struts uneven and bowed in places.

Across the top floor there were three windows, diamond paned just like the ones from his grandparent's house that he remembered from Snape's memory. The middle and far right windows were in pieces, damaged the night Voldemort's murderous curse backfired.

Fixed to the front gate were tarnished brass numbers. Forty nine. His home was forty nine Flinders Lane, Godric's Hollow.

Sirius cleared his throat, sounding as uncomfortable as he was at the graveyard. 'Touch it,' he muttered, gesturing to the wooden gate.

Doing as he was told Harry reached out, the gate feeling surprisingly solid despite its years of neglect. Immediately he understood the instruction, for a sign was rising from the ground through the tangle of weeds, and in painted gold letters it read:

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse.

This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.

And all round these neatly lettered words scribbles had been added, left by witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink, others had carved their initials into the wood, some had left messages. At first the sight of nearly fifteen years worth of graffiti annoyed him, leaving him feeling resentful that others had been here first, visiting this place like it was a tourist attraction. But in place of this his heart began to warm, his eyes scanning over the messages of support, particularly those that seemed most recent.

'If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you!'

'Long live Harry Potter.'

Looking back up at the house again Harry wondered what to say. The silence between him and Sirius felt painful, he knew his Godfather didn't want to be here, that this place held painful memories for him. The night he lost James and Lily, the night he said goodbye to Harry…the night he set off to avenge his friend's murders only to lose everything he had left.

Glad that he had come here Harry pushed the gate open, and it swung to admit him with ease. He didn't ask if he could, he didn't ask if it was safe - he was going in. This was his home, this was where he had come from - where he was born. Nothing was going to stop him.

A/N

I said all along that I wasn't writing a sequel, but it turns out I have ideas for one that I just can't resist. I've not started writing yet, but I've got a loose plot planned out that now just needs some depth, planning and characterisation before I get stuck into the chapters and see where it starts taking me.

The plan is that it will cover the summer before sixth year, with the main plot point to be revealed in the epilogue of this story (chapter 94). What do you think?