Chapter Fourteen
Spinner's End
Godric's Hollow was like most small towns set in the English countryside. The landscape was hilly, the trees were a deep shade of green and the houses were typical, middle class, suburban homes. There was nothing unique about the place at all.
Except in Harry's heart. It was here he was ripped away from the only family he knew—at the tender age of 1. He didn't know what had happened. He didn't he had sent Voldemort into a sort of limbo when the Dark Lord's Unforgivable Curse backfired. He didn't even know how his parents had died trying to save him until 10 years later when Hagrid, Groundskeeper for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry found him and told him so.
Harry Potter had never been back to this spot. He had never visited his parents' graves before. Now, he stood looking down at the two stones that simply said "Lily" and "James." All thought it would be best if "Potter" was kept off. Harry knew it was them.
Jordan stood aside, away from the graveyard where Harry seemed so alone, so engulfed by the blackness of the night. They hadn't said much on the train ride to the small village. Harry, Ron and Hermione had made their plans at Hogwarts, filling Jordan in on the details she didn't yet know.
Ron and Hermione were going to find Snape, try to convince him he was being duped by Lord Voldemort in the hopes that he would help them instead. Hermione was sure that Snape was a not-so-innocent pawn in one of the most ruthless games of Wizard's Chess. Ron hadn't felt so confident. Like Harry, or perhaps because of Harry, Ron didn't trust Professor Snape and didn't know if he ever could. But he followed his girlfriend and believed in her—in anything that might help save his best friend.
Jordan and Harry were going in search of the only missing horcrux. This would be their bargaining chip. Perhaps Jordan wouldn't have to die if they found it and brought it to Voldemort. Their end of the deal would be complete. Something told Harry it was in his old house.
"Mum, Dad…this isn't how I reckoned my life would be." Harry knelt next to the headstones. The night was cold, but he didn't care. "Here I am, back in this place, where you both died, and I truly don't know what to do."
He sighed and looked at the clear sky. What month was it? September? He should have been in Hogwarts, enjoying the last year of school—applying for Auror positions at the Ministry of Magic, maybe even trying out for national Quidditch teams. He was a damn good Seeker! Instead, he was on a losing mission, a suicidal pact between him and a demented wizard who hated his own father.
"Harry…" Jordan called lightly. "Come on. We need to get inside while it's still dark."
He stood, brushing the dirt from the knees of his jeans. "I'm coming."
"Are you okay?" Jordan asked him, as he stood next to her, silently, almost menacingly.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's strange being here, that's all. I knew I was going to return here someday. I wanted to see where they died, but it's still strange."
Jordan stayed silent. She looked at their home. It was a white, gabled house, with three floors. It was surrounded by a fence, and the yard had become brown, and covered with dead grass. No one had lived there in over a decade. The townsfolk said the house was haunted, and Jordan knew it probably was. She believed in things like that now, legends and tales she never would have believed in only a few months ago.
This time, she took his hand. "Let's go in."
He smiled. "Alright."
Checking both ways to make sure they weren't being watched, he led Jordan through the creaking gate and up to the house. He took out his wand and waved it at the door.
"Alohamora!" he whispered. A click could be heard and the door swung open, moaning from years of neglect.
They climbed the two stone steps and entered the dark room. Jordan waved her hand and said, "Lumos!" and a blue light surrounded them.
"How come you don't have to use a wand?" Harry asked, in a harried whisper.
"What?"
"I don't understand how you can do magic without a wand."
"I don't know—I didn't know I could do magic at all, Harry."
He nodded. That was true. Dumbledore didn't need to use a wand, although Voldemort had revealed he did need one. Jordan had moved forward into the empty kitchen. It was freezing and she hugged herself for warmth.
"There will be nothing down here. Let's go upstairs." He said, motioning toward the dusty staircase.
She followed him up and the floor creaked terribly at the second landing. "Harry?" Jordan asked as they reached the hallway that connected the upstairs bedrooms. "I thought you said that the house was destroyed when Hagrid found you."
"It was, or so they tell me. According to what Hermione read, someone had it rebuilt. She couldn't get any information on who the owner was, but it was only a year or two before it was empty again. I suppose we're taking a chance on how similar the two houses are."
"Do you feel anything strange yet?"
He shook his head. They walked into what looked to be the master bedroom. It was large with hardwood floors and two closets. At the back end was another small hallway Harry guessed led to a master bathroom. "No, I don't feel anything. Let's keep looking."
Jordan reached the small room first. It looked like it could be a den or office. To the left of it was another larger bedroom and in between was another bath. Harry came into the room behind her, brushing a large cobweb out of the way. A wave of pain hit him. He grabbed his forehead, pressing his hand onto his scar.
"Harry! What is it?" Jordan reached over to him, but her touch only made it worse.
"Don't—touch—me!"
"I forgot! Leave the room, Harry! Quickly!"
He backed out, bumping in the doorjamb, tripping over his own feet in his haste. Finally, the pain subsided, leaving a dull ache in its wake. "I—think that was my room."
"This is where it happened?"
His eyes watered as he nodded, and he felt slightly dizzy. "That window, I think that's where he killed my mother. My crib was in the middle of that wall. I don't know for sure, it's all this hazy green light in my mind."
"If the pain's that severe, the horcrux is probably in here, don't you think?"
"How am I going to find it if I can't even go in there?"
"I'll look for you." Jordan started opening the closet, feeling along the wall for any item that could have been the depositor for Voldemort's soul, a frame, a mirror, but the room was empty, completely and devastatingly empty. Then it hit her.
"Oh, no, Harry…no…"
"What?"
------
Ron and Hermione slowly made their way down a narrow street in Northern England. Spinner's End was filled with grimy rowhouses, some with clotheslines stretching across to the other side. Darkness made the place even more depressing and Hermione hung on to Ron's arm for dear life.
"What's the matter?" He whispered, trying to shake her off in order to regain feeling in the arm. "There's no one out here."
"I don't know…I just have a bad feeling about this."
"It was your idea!"
She shook her head, "I know. It will work, but this place…"
"It's where Snape lives in the summers, and hopefully, he's here now, since school didn't start and if he's not with You-Know-Who."
"Okay, this is it, I think."
The pair stood in front of a house with one dim candle flickering inside. It was silent except for a distant sound of a dog barking. "Ready?" Ron asked.
"How do you suppose Harry and Jordan are doing?"
"Dunno. Hopefully, they've found the horcrux, eh?"
Hermione nodded and then knocked on the door in front of her. They heard shuffling inside and then the door opened quickly. Both started when they saw a severe-looking Snape, dressed in his familiar black robes in front of them.
"What do you want?"
"We need to talk with you, Professor."
"Oh, you do, do you? What could you possibly have to say to me, Miss Granger? We were all there, you know what you saw. I have nothing to say, nor anything for which to be regretful." He began to shut the door.
"Please, Professor Snape. We know you have been loyal to the Order of the Phoenix. We know you must have a reason for what you're doing. Please let us in so we can talk to you."
One eyebrow went up on Snape's face. He looked at both of them, begging him to let them inside his small house. He sighed, opened the door wider and gestured for them to come in.
The room was shrouded in blackness. The lone candle they could see from the street sat on an end table, near a worn chair. Near the candle was a book on Occlumency that he must have been reading. Snape was not sloppy, but there was no sign of luxuries in his presence. Everything was worn nearly to extinction: the rugs, the sofa, the books, even the candlestick was barely a nub in its holder.
Ron looked around, mouth open, aghast at the conditions Snape lived in. It was dark and dreary, even a little mean, just like Snape. Doubt twisted in the pit of his stomach. This wouldn't work.
"Mr. Weasley, please try to control yourself," Snape crossed his arms. "What do you want?"
"Professor, we think you're being used by Lord Voldemort!" Hermione tried not to rush but was afraid if she didn't blurt it out, she would never do it.
"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK HIS NAME TO ME THAT WAY!" Snape bellowed, causing both young people to jump.
Ron instinctively stood in front of Hermione, one protective arm outstretched. "Sir, we are here only to warn you."
Snape took a deep breath and spoke quietly, "You both are completely ridiculous, and as usual, you haven't taken the time to check into your facts. Why would the Dark Lord be 'using' me, as you say?"
"To get to Harry." Hermione said, anxiously.
"Yes, that is the entire point of the exercise, Miss Granger. My master is looking for Harry Potter. We, as his faithful servants, have been instructed to find him and deliver him. That is what we've done. Now it's up to Mr. Potter. I believe he is almost out of time."
Ron closed his eyes tightly so Snape wouldn't be able to detect the notion of the Time Turner, and then looked at the Potions teacher, "But we think that once this is done and Harry is by his side, he will discard you, kill you even."
"And you're here to help me?" He said it as if it was the craziest notion.
Hermione stood tall, "Y-yes, sir."
Snape sat on the worn sofa, folded his hands and looked as patiently, as kindly as he could at the two nervous souls in front of him. "The thought has crossed my mind as well. Go on…"
Hermione took great pains to explain her theory of the horcruxes and how they needed Snape's help to prevent Jordan from being killed and Harry from becoming another one of Voldemort's pawns. She also told Professor Snape she knew he had a kind heart and had witnessed it many times where Harry was concerned, even though the Death Eater had tried to hide his actions on many occasions by being nasty to Harry.
"You are a brilliant wizard, and it would be a shame to lose both you and Harry to the Dark Lord. You, after all, are also one of the key members of the Order of the Phoenix and with Dumbledore gone…"
He got to his feet, "You think I would be the one to take Dumbledore's place—even after I killed him?"
"You killed him because you were ordered to…" Ron finally spoke.
"Yes, that is true. But I also have orders to kill whoever gets in the way of my directive. That could be you two."
"I don't think you will, Professor." Hermione hoped she was right. He could turn at a moment's notice and she knew it. But Harry was worth dying for; Ron would agree.
"You are very sure of yourself, young lady. I could wave my hand and snap your neck. You know that, don't you?"
Ron moved toward him, "You'd have to kill me first, Snape!"
The Death Eater snickered, "You have no power that would match mine, Mr. Weasley. You barely have any power at all. But your courage is admirable. The Sorting Hat did well putting you in Gryffindor House. You'd have never lasted in Slytherin; you don't have the soul. Now, what exactly is Mr. Potter up to and how can I help him, as you say?"
"He's finding the final horcrux."
"Oh, he is? I suppose he thinks he can use that as leverage—saying he can even locate it. He's not doing a very good job of it, is he?"
"He thinks he can at least save Jordan."
"Smitten with that one, isn't he?"
Neither Ron nor Hermione said anything. It was odd having so casual a conversation with Snape. It was probably the most either of them had said to him in the six years they knew him. Hermione felt that was a good sign.
"The Dark Lord has turned on other Death Eaters, hasn't he?"
"What do you know of it?" Snape hissed.
"We've heard stories." Ron said, indignantly. "We know he has killed some of his own…"
"Only to gain strength. He has power now—more power than you can imagine."
"Are you certain that he won't kill you in favor of Harry?"
"Miss Granger, I would never be so arrogant to say the Dark Lord would do this or do that, but I have been privy to his plans for many years. It is quite possible that my path may go in a different direction after Harry has joined up with him, but I don't believe he plans to kill me. I am one of his most trusted servants."
"So you've said…" Ron muttered.
"You could help McGonagall run Hogwarts—re-open the school. You could teach whatever classes you like!" Hermione was pleading with him.
"Do you think I care about the school? Do you think I planned on becoming a teacher all my life? No! I was only at Hogwarts for one reason!"
Ron and Hermione backed up as the former instructor became riled again.
"I was there to spy on Dumbledore, to keep my eye on Harry Potter and to train Draco Malfoy. That is all."
"But you were helping Professor Dumbledore as well—and you helped Harry—a lot."
"Yes, yes, I did." Snape sounded defeated.
"Can you help us now?" Hermione asked, sitting in front of him.
Snape looked up, said nothing and waited for her to continue.
"Harry is at Godric's Hollow. He will bring the horcrux he finds to Lord Voldemort. When they are together, we need to destroy the horcrux. You know how to do that, don't you? You know how to siphon the Ravenclaw horcux out of Jordan as well, right? We need you to help us do that so Voldemort will be weakened."
Hermione took a deep breath, waited for the explosion that was sure to come. Had she pushed it too far? Had she asked him something that might require him to kill her on the spot? But nothing happened. Snape said nothing; took no action, merely sat and continued listening. Ron looked at Hermione and she at him. Hermione smiled. They may have done it. The planned may have worked!
------
Harry felt slightly better but was thoroughly worried by the look on Jordan's face. She had moved out of the nursery and had taken his hand. She led him downstairs and outside. It had grown steadily colder but neither of them felt it.
"What's going on?" Harry demanded.
Jordan sat on a bench at the outskirts of the cemetery. She shivered, but not from the temperature. "Harry, what did you tell me the Sorting Hat said about being in the wrong house?"
"Erm—that he thought I should be in Slytherin, but he still put me in Gryffindor…what does that have…?"
"And Dumbledore, what did he say?"
"Why am I saying this again? We're wasting time! Dumbledore said that it depended on where I put myself. I reached for Gryffindor's sword and got it, so I must have believed I did belong in Gryffindor House. So, what does that matter now? You're running out of time, Jordan!"
She spoke calmly, "When the basilisk was attacking Muggles at Hogwarts, you said you thought you were descended from Slytherin because you could…"
"…I could talk to snakes. Where is this going?"
"Harry, you aren't the heir of Slytherin, I am the descendent of Ravenclaw, I doubt you have anything to do with Hufflepuff; that just leaves Gryffindor…" When it still didn't register with him, she continued. "Let's talk about the horcruxes. Dumbledore said that you destroyed the diary of Tom Riddle—that's one. You told me someone already got to the necklace the night Dumbledore was killed—that's two. Dumbledore thinks Nagini may be one—that's three. That leaves the houses, right? Hufflepuff—goblet, Slytherin—ring, Ravenclaw—me; there's no other horcrux, Harry…just me. He's sending you on a wild goose chase."
"NO!" Harry stood, his voice echoing in the night.
"Yes, Harry. There's nothing in that house, nothing to find, except you. It's empty, and was destroyed. I think I know who rebuilt it."
"Not Voldemort!"
"No, it was rebuilt by someone else who wanted to see you get a chance to visit here. Someone, other than Dumbledore who thought you had a right to know your destiny."
Harry thought about it a moment and wondered who that could be. The Dursleys were certainly out of the picture. Professor McGonagall knew a lot of what was happening but was never on the inside track. Rufus Scrimgeour, the relatively new Minister of Magic, was persuasive but Harry knew it was only for his own glory. His wanting Harry to lend his name and reputation to the Ministry had nothing to do with Harry's past, present or future happiness. That left Remus Lupin perhaps, or…
"Sirius?"
"I think so, Harry."
"But how? He was in hiding, then caught and sent to Azkaban. This house was rebuilt not long after my parents were killed." Harry was pacing, this new information causing his heart to race and the sweat to pool on the back of his neck. "I suppose he could have made arrangements for the house some other way—maybe with Lupin."
Harry stopped, and looked at Jordan, utter frustration and defeat in his face, "Jordan, I can't let this happen to you!"
"You have no choice. You'll just be one step closer to destroying him! To be quite honest I don't think Dumbledore was correct about Nagini. I don't think there is a sixth. I think I am the final one—and the strongest one."
"Killing you or destroying the horcrux within you will do him the most damage." Harry nodded, agreeing.
"And at the same time, I am the most necessary to him to bring him back to life if he needs it."
"But I don't understand …Why he would wait all these years?"
"I don't even know how many years it's been. I really don't know when this happened to me." Jordan stood and began walking away from the house.
Harry was reluctant to follow. Despite the pain from his scar and the ache in his heart, he still associated the house with the one true home, except for Hogwarts, he had ever known. Finally, he turned and caught up with her.
"It's the Prophecy that's confusing me."
"What prophecy?"
He stopped and turned to her, forgetting the only information she knew about this situation was what one of them had told her. It was hard to remember how short-lived their friendship had been. "A year ago, there was a fight in the Ministry of Magic. It was where my godfather was killed…"
Jordan shook her head. "I remember you telling me that."
"Well, there was a Prophecy kept there—in a vault—that had to do with me and Voldemort. In it was revealed that neither Voldemort…"
"…or you would survive unless the other died. Yes, Hermione said that."
"Maybe I just interpreted it wrong. It didn't say I had to kill anyone else, you know?"
"There's an inn down the road here. And it's Wednesday, so we should find a room. Let's go inside, I'm freezing."
With a skeptical look from the matronly innkeeper as to what these two young people were doing checking into a motel on a Wednesday night, Harry and Jordan received their key and went to room #27.
Inside were two beds on the far wall. The wallpaper was a light pink floral and quaint oak beams were visible above them. Harry sat heavily in the wooden desk chair in the corner. Jordan looked down at the floor with its thin gray and light blue flowered rug. It was going to be a long night.
"How were you going to stay in contact with Ron and Hermione?"
"We are supposed to meet back at Hogwarts tomorrow morning, whether we've accomplished our goal or not. Tomorrow's it, Jordan, even with the Time Turner."
"I know. But I think we're ready to go back. There's nothing more we can do here, Harry."
"The question is what can I do there?" But then Harry knew the one way to solve the problems lying before him. He had spoken to Ron about it already, and it still seemed the most logical thing to do.
"Harry?" Jordan saw him leave her for a moment, his mind wandering off someplace that was too complicated for her to want to go.
"Jordan," he looked up at her. "Listen to me. When we see Voldemort again, you must let me do what I have to."
"What?"
"Don't try to stop me. You'll only get yourself hurt."
A strange feeling went through Jordan just then. Harry had a plan and it didn't involve her at all. He had decided something with a severity and finality she couldn't understand, except she knew it meant life or death—most likely his. Her stomach turned.
"What are you going to do?"
"I can't tell you right now because I don't have everything worked out. But I don't have any other choice."
She moved to the window quickly. She didn't like what had happened to her life. There hadn't been time to do things she wanted to do. Half her life had been spent trying to make ends meet, getting college loans paid off and writing. She was only in her twenties and her time could be up. She hadn't married, had children, travelled the world. Jordan could have even waited for Harry to get older—he had, after all, already grown up.
"Are you alright?" He stood behind her at the window.
She could see their reflection. "I guess coming to Godric's Hollow is a bit strange for me too."
"I remember my first year at Hogwarts. I was only 11, and very innocent in the ways of the world. The only place I'd ever been was Little Whinging and that was stuck under the staircase, in this dusty, spider-filled closet. Once the letter came that I was a wizard and that I would be going away to a school where I would live, I had never felt such excitement, nor was I ever so scared."
Jordan turned to face him, her heart heavy, feeling very tired and sad.
"And I sat in my classes, learning spells: how to lift a feather, or to make a potion or to turn one liquid into another, it was surreal. Sometimes, it didn't even feel like it was me, regular, old Harry Potter. I wasn't great when I was in regular school and I wasn't even a great student at Hogwarts. The only thing I've been really good at is flying and defending against wizards who use Dark Arts."
"Like Snape and Voldemort…"
"Yes. But I really did become someone there—and Dumbledore was right. I had a lot to do with who I became. The rumors, the stories about what had happened to me, that I was famous, it made me try a little harder, I guess. It is true I defeated Voldemort more than once, but I had lots of help. You've even helped me, Jordan. I'm not that special and I certainly don't feel like 'The Chosen One.'"
"But you are. You know it could be the other way around. You may have attracted people like Hermione and Dumbledore and the others whose destiny it was to aid you in your quest—the same as it was with you attracting me by sitting each day in the park."
"What I'm trying to say, Jordan is that I know how you feel. I know what it's like to be a certain person one minute and then someone totally different the next. I'm sorry that it had to be because of me that you lost your normal life, but I can't change what Voldemort did to you. I can only change what happens to you now."
Jordan nodded. They were near the end. This would all be over soon and they both might soon die. There didn't seem to be much point in pretending anymore, in worrying what society would say. So she kissed him. Harry's arms went around her and he returned the kiss, never feeling as proud of both of them as he did at that moment.