Chapter 1-Godric's Hollow
Godric's Hollow was a quaint town with a cobbled street and its fair share of oddity. It was one of few places left in England that was almost entirely populated by wizard kind. And it showed. The stores were of a strange (well at least from a Muggle perspective) variety, openly proclaiming the sale of wizard robes and exotic, magical animals. Some of the more blatant sellers of wizard merchandise such as Briggs' Broomsticks, Elwin Bros. Wand Distributors ("proud carriers of Ollivander and Gregorovich creations"), and Oldridges' Wizarding Supplies had been bewitched to resemble, to Muggle eyes, abandoned storefronts with CLOSED signs hanging from their dusty windows. Not that it mattered much. Few non- magic folk ever came through this stretch of country. If they had, they would have seen things no one in the Muggle world had ever witnessed (or, after Ministry Memory Modifiers got a hold of them, things no Muggle would ever remember witnessing). Youths played spirited games of Quidditch in the fields surrounding the Hollow, wizards and witches in all sorts of odd clothing would Apparate and Disapparate with a crack! at will in broad daylight, and owls carrying parcels and letters could be seen swooping through the sky in flocks at any given hour.
But as of late, Godric's Hollow had changed. No one played Quidditch anymore, or gamboled in the streets, eyeing racing brooms in the window of Briggs' or debating good-naturedly over the latest article in the Daily Prophet. People stayed inside most of the day, those having obligations elsewhere Apparating and Disapparating from inside their homes, in an effort to avoid the outside as much as possible. Those with business that required them to walk the streets did so hurriedly, not dawdling to gossip or catch up with old acquaintances. And no one ever went out after the sun went down. That was when the hand of Voldemort was most active. Voldemort, a name that few people had the courage to even whisper, instead referring to the Darkest wizard of all time, who now threatened both Muggle and magical worlds, as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who. Voldemort and his loyal followers, the Death Eaters, had amassed supporters of every type to rage forth and bring tragedy upon the witches and wizards who opposed them. The Death Eaters would visit a house or a place of occupation and when they left, death and destruction had blossomed. Entire families were murdered for resisting the Dark Lord and his vile following. The Bones, the McKinnons, the Prewitts, all accomplished and powerful witches and wizards, had been erased by the one whose name was scarcely uttered. And the Potters were next.
Godric's Hollow was a quaint town with a cobbled street and its fair share of oddity. It was one of few places left in England that was almost entirely populated by wizard kind. And it showed. The stores were of a strange (well at least from a Muggle perspective) variety, openly proclaiming the sale of wizard robes and exotic, magical animals. Some of the more blatant sellers of wizard merchandise such as Briggs' Broomsticks, Elwin Bros. Wand Distributors ("proud carriers of Ollivander and Gregorovich creations"), and Oldridges' Wizarding Supplies had been bewitched to resemble, to Muggle eyes, abandoned storefronts with CLOSED signs hanging from their dusty windows. Not that it mattered much. Few non- magic folk ever came through this stretch of country. If they had, they would have seen things no one in the Muggle world had ever witnessed (or, after Ministry Memory Modifiers got a hold of them, things no Muggle would ever remember witnessing). Youths played spirited games of Quidditch in the fields surrounding the Hollow, wizards and witches in all sorts of odd clothing would Apparate and Disapparate with a crack! at will in broad daylight, and owls carrying parcels and letters could be seen swooping through the sky in flocks at any given hour.
But as of late, Godric's Hollow had changed. No one played Quidditch anymore, or gamboled in the streets, eyeing racing brooms in the window of Briggs' or debating good-naturedly over the latest article in the Daily Prophet. People stayed inside most of the day, those having obligations elsewhere Apparating and Disapparating from inside their homes, in an effort to avoid the outside as much as possible. Those with business that required them to walk the streets did so hurriedly, not dawdling to gossip or catch up with old acquaintances. And no one ever went out after the sun went down. That was when the hand of Voldemort was most active. Voldemort, a name that few people had the courage to even whisper, instead referring to the Darkest wizard of all time, who now threatened both Muggle and magical worlds, as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who. Voldemort and his loyal followers, the Death Eaters, had amassed supporters of every type to rage forth and bring tragedy upon the witches and wizards who opposed them. The Death Eaters would visit a house or a place of occupation and when they left, death and destruction had blossomed. Entire families were murdered for resisting the Dark Lord and his vile following. The Bones, the McKinnons, the Prewitts, all accomplished and powerful witches and wizards, had been erased by the one whose name was scarcely uttered. And the Potters were next.