Chapter 2: The Return of the Stag
A/N: There are several mistakes in the beginning of this chapter. I reread the third book for about the 50th time just after finishing this chapter and a couple of little things don't quite match up. Just don't mind those mistakes, I'm too lazy to change them J .
"Godric's Hollow?" asked Harry, looking up at Sirius. Sirius was looking at the quaint little neighborhood with an almost wistful expression.
"Yeah, Godric's Hollow," he said softly.
"Well, why are we here? That name sounds familiar, I think I've heard it somewhere," said Harry, trying to remember. "Wasn't Gryffindor's first name Godric?"
"Yes," answered Sirius, looking ever more gloomy. "This was alsoalso the place where you and your parents lived beforewell, you know."
Harry felt his stomach churn a little. "Oh," he said awkwardly.
Sirius, whose eyes had sort of glazed over, pointed at a small house behind some trees. "That's where I used to live. Actually, me and Remus lived there together. James did too, for a little while, but then he and Lily got married and they moved in over there," Sirius' hand moved to another slightly larger house just across the street.
"That was my house?" Harry asked, feeling a small lump in his throat beginning to grow.
"No, the original house was sort ofblown up in the.erm, incident'. They rebuilt one just like it right over where it used to be."
"And where did Wormtail live?" Harry fought the lump as he spoke.
"In another little village not far away. Dirty rat, I should've known something was up when he didn't want to live right near us," Sirius said, anger blazing in his oddly hollow eyes.
They just stood there, side by side, for several minutes. Harry's head ached with all the questions he wanted to ask, but he knew it wasn't the right time to ask them. He felt that this visit was not only for his benefit, but also for Sirius'.
"Well, we better get moving. I've got another thing I want to show you," Sirius finally said. He sighed and Harry followed him down the quiet little street. Dawn was just preparing to break and the sun peaked up just as they were going over a grassy hill. Harry looked down the hill. The sun had just shed its light upon a small cemetery, containing only about 100 graves.
"Are my parents?" Harry didn't need to finish the question. Sirius nodded.
His godfather led him silently to a pair of matching headstones that stood right next to each other, almost touching. The one on the left read, "In loving memory of James "Prongs" Potter, 1960-1981, May the Marauders always live on." The right stone read, "In loving memory of Lily Evans Potter, 1960-1981, The flower of every heart." In front of each stone there was a white lily planted.
"Those lilies will never die," said Sirius heavily, taking a deep breath.
Harry knelt solemnly in front of his father's grave, tracing the letters with his fingertips. He's lying under me right now, thought Harry. It was a strange thought, but Harry somehow felt comforted by it. He moved to his mother's headstone and felt each letter as he had done with his father's.
Suddenly, Sirius blurted out, "Harry, they're not buried here."
Harry spun around. "What do you mean? Are they buried somewhere else?"
"No, no," said Sirius quickly. "Theythey never found the bodies." Seeing the hopeful look on Harry's face, Sirius added, "The house was so badly damaged, HarryI thinkI think they were burnedI'm sorry."
Harry felt stupid for even thinking at all that his parents were still alive. But he was so grateful to Sirius, because Sirius knew exactly how he felt.
"Thank you," said Harry softly. Sirius just nodded.
"Well, I'll leave you here. I'll be back at the Godric's Hollow' sign when you need me," said Sirius, walking away.
Harry sat, and for the first time since the Triwizard Tournament, silent tears began to flood down his cheeks.
"I need some vacation time!" announced Rose as she thundered up the stairs to her boss's office. The door was already open and Mr. Harrison sat inside at his desk. To tell the truth, Mr. Harrison was actually quite happy that Rose brought this up. He needed a way to get rid of her for a little while so she could perhaps spend some of her energy doing other things besides running around the office.
"That's great!" he answered happily. "When do you need time?"
"I need the next two weeks off, starting tomorrow," said Rose excitedly.
"What? Don't you think that's a little short notice?"
"Well, yes, a little, but I've already got plane tickets and hotel reservations and stuff all planned."
"Where are you going?"
"England!" said Rose, almost jumping into the air. "I've always wanted to go to England, and I've just had the sudden urge. I've been saving up for a vacation for years!"
Mr. Harrison sighed. "Well, what good will it do to say no? I know you'll just bother me about it until I agree." Rose grinned.
At the same time the next day, Rose was dragging her large carry-on bag to her terminal at the airport. She had never flown on a plane before, unless she had done it before losing her memory. Not knowing what to bring, she had just thrown a lot of junk into the bag, including food, make up, a hair dryer, a CD player, and about ten books. It also didn't help that she had absolutely no idea where she was going; Logan Airport was huge.
People bustled by, not noticing her at all. Rose was getting close to tears when she heard a voice.
"Need some help?" asked a man standing beside her. "You look lost."
"Oh, thank you so much!" Rose answered, almost ready to fling her arms around him. She decided to contain herself. She looked at the man. He was tall, had dark hair, and blue eyes. "I'm Rose Simmons, by the way," she added.
"Robbie Dawes," he said, putting out a hand, which she shook. Robbie heaved her heavy bag over his shoulder. "Jeez, what have you got in here, a load of bricks?"
Rose laughed. "Sorry, but I've never flown before and I didn't really know what to pack."
Robbie was rather intrigued by this young woman. She was quite attractive, and he was somehow sure he'd seen her somewhere before. She had shoulder-length red hair and the most amazing bright green eyes he'd ever seen.
"Where are you off to?" he asked, attempting to make polite conversation.
"London, England," Rose answered, a bit proudly.
"Really?" asked Robbie. "So am I! I'm from Las Vegas, I'm taking the connecting flight over to England!"
"Are you on the 11 o'clock flight?" asked Rose.
"Yes!" said Robbie. "Weird, huh?"
They chatted on their way down to the terminal. Each had a strange nagging feeling they had met the other before, though neither said anything about it.
Once they were on the plane, Robbie went off to find his seat while Rose stayed back and talking to the captain, who calmly reassured her that there was nothing to be afraid of. Dragging the heavy carry-on bag behind her once again, Rose scanned the rows of seats and finally found her own. She was surprised to see Robbie sitting in the seat next to hers.
"You again!" She cried, laughing.
"Don't tell me you're sitting here too?"
"Yes! Man, this is too weird," Rose said as she sat down.
"Wait," said Robbie. "What hotel are you staying at?"
Rose paused a moment to remember. "I think it was theBritish Royal or something" she stopped, seeing the look on Robbie's face. "You're staying there too, aren't you?"
"Wow, this is scary!"
Through the flight, Rose and Robbie became ever more amazed by the shocking and somewhat frightening similarities between them. They revealed to each other that they were both 35 years old, they had both wandered into their hometowns in 1981 with no recollection of who they were, and both had completely rebuilt their lives with new identities. By the end of long flight, they were talking like old friends.
The plane had just landed when Rose said, "Hey, I have an idea. What if we sort ofjoin our trips together? Becausewell, I'm here alone, and you're here alonewhy don't we just be"
"Tour buddies! Yay!" said Robbie with the air of a six-year-old. Rose laughed and they made their way out into the large, crowded airport.
A week of exciting touring had already gone by, very quickly in fact, Robbie thought. Rose made quite a good touring partner, though they occasionally bickered about little things, such as where to eat or what attraction to see first. On this fine mid-August day, Robbie and Rose had decided to just walk around the city of London without anything specific in mind. It was nearly lunchtime and they were in the midst of their usual spat over what restaurant to eat at.
"Look, I picked this up at the front desk. It's a list of all the pubs and restaurants in the area," Robbie said, pulling the brochure out of his pocket.
"Lemme see that," said Rose, snatching it out of his hands. "There's quite a few places right near by. Let's just walk around and see what we can find."
They ended up walking for about ten minutes, Rose rejecting nearly every restaurant Robbie pointed to. It was almost, thought Robbie, like trying to help a girl pick out shoes.
"Woman, will you just pick one already!" Robbie finally said loudly.
Rose gave a disgusted sigh. "All right, all right. How about.that one!" She pointed at a small, grubby-looking inn on the inside corner of the street. It was painted dark green and a sign on the door read, "The Leaky Cauldron".
"Don't you think it looks kind ofold?" said Robbie uncertainly.
"I think it's cute. Come on!" Rose walked briskly ahead, leaving Robbie no choice but to follow her.
Inside, the pub was thick with smoke, but the smell of good food wafted about the entire room. It contained only about ten people, who were, for the most part, rather elderly.
"You sure you want to?" whispered Robbie. "I mean, it's kind of weird in here"
"Oh shut up, stop being a worry-wart. I like it here," said Rose, who hopped up on a barstool. Robbie did the same.
The people in the pub were dressed funny. Long robes seemed to be the fashion, except for one extremely large man who wore what looked like a vest of different furs sewn together. He had a huge beard and took up two barstools by himself. The bartender, who was bald and toothless, waddled up to Robbie and Rose.
"What can I get you folks?" He had a strong Irish accent. "We have all sorts ofblimey!" The small man reached into his pocket and produced a pair of glasses, which he unfolded with trembling hands. "Itbe!" He stared at Rose and Robbie through the glasses, his eyes weirdly enlarged. "IT IS! IT IS!" he shouted, then suddenly fainted.
Rose and Robbie looked at each other, each saying the same thing in their mind: Uh-oh. But they were surprised when they noticed no one in the bar seemed upset at all. The only one that even got up was the large man in the fur vest. He walked behind the bar and knelt down over the bartender. "Y'all righ' there, Tom? There's a good man," he said in a gruff but gentle voice. He stood up and turned to Rose and Robbie. "He's just up bit jumpy sometimes. Nothing terBLIMEY!" exclaimed the giant as well. His eyes bulged and a white look of shock had come over his face.
"Maybe we had better go," said Robbie quietly.
"Go! Oh, I never thought I'd see this day!" said the man enthusiastically. He grabbed Rose and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, then did the same with Robbie.
Rose dusted herself off, then said, "I'm really sorry, but I have no idea who you are."
The giant just stared at her for a minute, then burst into happy tears. Soon other people were crowding around them, slapping Robbie on the back, kissing Rose on the cheek, shaking hands, laughing, and crying, all at the same time.
"Bunch of loonies!" shouted Robbie over the noise. Rose pointed to the back door and they both bolted for it. The crowd only followed them.
"Please, please, come back!" cried an old woman.
Then a voice was heard above all the others, though it was soft and kind. The crowd parted to let a tall, very old man through the center. He had seemingly appeared out of thin air. He wore half moon glasses and had a three-foot long beard the color of moonlight. He also wore long robes, like the others in the pub. "Welcome back," he said slowly, a smile creeping across his face, "Lily and James Potter."
