Of Age
Chapter 6: Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Harry was not surprised this time by the load crack of the Knight Bus. He was not surprised by the tossing and jolting that took place as the bus swerved around corners and narrowly missed passing muggles. In fact, Harry would not have been surprised if Ginny Weasley would have climbed in his lap and planted a big fat kiss on his mouth (which she secretly longed to do). He would not have been surprised, because he probably wouldn't have noticed. Harry was oblivious to the world around him as he studied carefully the object in his hand. To an outsider, who happened to come upon this scene would have observed a scrawny little boy staring longingly at an ordinary stick. But Harry was no ordinary scrawny boy, and clutched tightly in his hand was no ordinary stick. It was made of willow, it was 10 ¼ inches long, and despite being a bit worn, and a bit soft, was rather swishy; good for charms work. It was once the wand of Harry's mother Lily. This was his mother's legacy. More than any amount of gold, more than any stack of pounds, more than anything else, he was proud of this one thing. He had an invisibility cloak that had belonged to his father. Every time he used that cloak, draped in invisibility, he felt closer to his father. It was almost as if he had resurrected the Maurader through his own adventures at Hogwarts. And now, now he had that same connection to his mother. The instant he say it he knew. He would never be able to kill Voldemort with his own wand. The connection between the two wands would not allow them to do battle against each other. But with this, his mother's wand, Harry would avenge his parents and everyone else who had suffered at the hands of Tom Riddle.
"Uh, Harry…we're here." It took him a second to realize what had happened. The Knight bus had stopped, everyone was off, and Hermione was beckoning him off as well. Harry was glowing with determination, but the immediacy of the situation flooded back to him and he hastily exited the bus with a muttered goodbye to one Stan Shunpike. "What exactly are we looking for?" Ron asked, his hands up in the air in question, "look at this place, it isn't exactly a tiny village anymore." He was right, fifteen years could produce an amazing amount of change, especially in the muggle world. What was once a small muggle village was now a full-blown city, from the looks of it about 100,000 strong. "How will we ever find the property?" Ginny asked, looking puzzled. There must be thousands of houses in this town.
"That isn't our only problem," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "We won't ever be able to find it. The fidelius charm, it hasn't been broken. Wormtail disclosed the location to Harry's house to Voldemort, so he was able to find it. There was noone to undue the charm after…" (she paused and gave Harry a sympathetic look). "I mean we could be standing on the property and never see it. I really don't see how we are…"
"There is a way." The voice that interrupted Hermione's discourse belonged to Remus Lupin, who had just apparated in. He approached Harry and engulfed him in a tight hug, leaving Harry surprised but thankful. "As always, Hermione, you are right on the mark. You really are the brightest witch of your age, you know. But I'm afraid you overlooked one tiny detail in your analysis of the situation. You see, the fidelius charm was put on the Potter's home to keep them hidden. But the Potter's themselves could see the property just as easily as you and I can see those trees over there (he waved a hand absentmindedly towards a small grove of oak trees). So you see, there is one person alive, other than Peter Pettigrew, who can find the Potter's estate, and that is Harry himself."
Hermione immediately opened her mouth to reply but Remus silenced her with a wave of the hand. "Harry was only a baby the last time he was in this place." He took Harry by the shoulders and looked intently in his cold green eyes. "But it was your home Harry, you can find it. But before you do, you have to be prepared for what you are going to find. Look at this, this city! This place was a small village when your parents lived here. Time has passed. When Vo-that night, the house was destroyed. What remains may not be a pretty site. Are you sure you want to do this?
Harry set his jaw and willed the tears to leave his eyes. This was his home, whatever remained was proof that his parents had lived, had been happy, and had died bravely fighting evil. To Harry this journey was a pilgrimage, like somehow seeing his family home would fill a void in his heat that he'd felt all of his life. He would see it, if he could. He'd build a memorial here, and wizards from all over the world would come to this place, to remember. His eyes were closed and his head was down. When he opened them, he was somewhat surprised to see a tiny hand found its way inside his own, and was squeezing lovingly. With wide eyes Harry looked up to see that that hand belonged to Ginny, who wiped a single tear off his cheek and softly said, "Harry, you'll always have a home at the Burrow, you don't have to do this."
"No, I want to, I can take it. What do I have to do Remus?" At this Remus furrowed his eyebrows and placed on hand on his mouth and chin, in thought. "Well," he said at last, it is your home. I guess all you have to do is remember it, and it should appear." Harry closed his eyes then felt a stiff hand on this shoulder, must be Ron. Ginny's hand was still in his, and then he felt Hermione's arm snake around his waist. His friends were there for him, so he searched.
"He's coming! Take Harry and run, I'll hold him off!" There was yellow wallpaper, and a mobile dangling above a baby crib. "No, take me instead, don't take him, please!" He was on the top floor. It was a two-story cottage, with white paint and orange shingles. "Happy birthday, dear Harry, Happy birthday to you!" There were decorations, a cake, a swing, and stroller. A high chair, a banister, a big man in dark clothes, a bright flash, a song, a bottle, warm kisses, and lots and lots of soft. There were…
"Oh my god!" The voice of Lupin startled Harry out of his memories. He kept his eyes closed, bracing himself for what he'd find. Slowly, he opened his eyes. But instead of fifteen years worth of decay and ruin, the group was standing in the front yard of a white two-story cottage, with orange shingles and yellow wall paper, just as it had been in Harry's memory. "I, I can't explain this." Lupin stuttered. "I, this place was destroyed. I mean Hagrid, and Sirius, they saw, it just can't be."
"Well, shall we go in then?" Ron, leave it to Ron to come up with such a simple thing to say, but those words terrified and excited Harry. He ran for the door and flung it open. The entryway was small, with hardwood floors. It opened to a large sitting room comfortably equipped with a wooden rocking chair, a plush gray sofa, and 2 easy chairs. Next to the farthest easy chair was a small playpen. The dining room had vaulted ceilings, and a bright chandelier above a large oak table set for three. "It, it must have rebuilt itself," Lupin spoke to noone in particular, "slowly, over the last 15 years. This is exactly as it was…"
A small grin was beginning to form on Harry's face. He passed the hallway, the loo, the kitchen, getting more excited as he went. At last he was at the stairs. Looking back at Ron, with a smile that reached his eyes, Harry darted up the stairs, two at a time. He passed a room that he instantly recognized as his parents, another loo, then stopped dead at his bedroom door. There was a hand carved sign on the door. About 6 inches by 4 inches, it was painted scarlet, with golden letters that spelled out HARRY. With a shaking hand he turned the handle.
The room was perfect. It was covered with quiddich gear. There were vintage broomsticks on the walls, and a Hogwarts quiddich robes bearing the name POTTER on the back in scarlet and gold. There were toy snitches, and wooden blocks; stuffed animals and finger paintings. This was his stuff, reborn after all these years. The tears flowed freely, then he spoke. "This is where it happened, right there." He pointed to a spot on the floor, no more than a foot from where Ginny stood. Funny he'd never noticed it before, but Ginny actually looked a lot like his mother, from the pictures he'd seen. The long flowing red hair, the forceful personality, they actually were quite similar. He gave her an odd sort of look before continuing. "Right there is where Voldemort killed my Mum. The curse, the, the scar, the…" His words failed him as emotion and tears burst through Harry, and he fell to the ground. A shocked Ron looked on dumbly as Ginny was at his side in an instant, comforting him with soothing words and stroking his forehead.
