The children were playing by the warm fire while the chill wind blew against the house. The dogs were eating the leftovers from the recent meal while the adults gathered in the family room. A young woman helped an ancient looking man down the stairs toward the worn in couch near the fire. The rest of the adults, fourteen or fifteen of them, gathered around, pulling chairs up or just taking a seat on the floor. The young woman seated herself next to the old man. When the noise made by the dragging and moving of the chairs had ceased, the entire group looked at the old man expectantly.

Slowly the old man took a deep sigh and leaned back into the couch. The more comfortable he was, the better. After all this was going to be a long night. But then again, it always was at this family get-together. It was almost time for the annual telling of "The Story" as the children had come to call it. It had become a family tradition, started some ninety years ago. Most of the people in the room had heard the story many times already, but there were a few new faces, probably due to the fact that there were two young, dating women in the family.

The ancient man looked slowly to the woman on his right. "Are all the children busy? They shouldn't be able to listen to the story. Much too graphic…for someone their age." The man's voice came out as a croak. It sounded as if he had not spoken since the last telling of "The Story."

The young woman smiled at him sweetly. "Yes, Grandfather. They're all busy playing with the dogs or with their toys." She spoke to him softly.

"Well, just make sure they don't grab anyone's wand. We don't want anything to catch on fire or something like that. That reminds me of a time when I was young…"

The group of people surrounding the man all seemed to shake as one with silent laughter. He never changed…the old man. He was the typical great-grandfather. The kind who loved having children over so he could relive his glory days. The kind who loved to tell them about how hard it was when he was growing up…how they have it so good nowadays. But one of his favorite things to talk about was his wife. He loved to talk about the day he realized he loved her, and how it took him so long to realize it that he almost realized it too late.

"…And after that, my hair always grew back all weird, and such."

There was silence for a moment as the group waited for the old man to begin. In the background were the sounds of the kids running throughout the house, most likely chasing after the good-natured dogs. The sounds of their laughter echoed into the family room and softened the eyes of the old man as he stared into the fire. Slowly he looked up and around at everyone seated around him. "Oh, alright. I guess I'll begin, seeing how you lot are all begging me to start." Everyone smiled at him in response.

He turned his gaze back to the fire as if consulting it. The twinkle in his eyes was gone and had been replaced with a sort of raw passion for what he was about to re-tell. Then he slowly began to speak in his rasping voice.

"I can still remember everything as if it were only yesterday."

Of Hollows…

In Homes and In Hearts

The warm wind blew steadily into the face of the boy walking along the sidewalk. He hurried along, ignoring the curious stares he received. He had been traveling for almost a week now, him being underage prevented him from being unable to do magic and hurry the process, and had not taken a bath since that old lady had taken pity on him. His clothes were the same ones he had started out with. They had been slept in on the ground, rained on, and had a large hole in the knee from when he had tripped and fallen. Needless to say, he probably looked horrible.

But he didn't care.

He was on a mission. A mission that made his heart beat erratically. It was painful to return, but it was a good type of painful – one that would not only ease his own loss, but help prevent future losses for everyone else. This was a good thing, and, all in all, he was glad to return. Except for the fact that after his visit he would be out on the streets once again on more than a weeklong journey. That put a damper on his thoughts.

He paused in his steps for a second as the wind picked up again. The people across the street who had been standing in their yard staring at him looked away quickly and pretended to do something else. He took a deep breath, steadying his rapid heartbeat, as leaves were carried in spiraling circles around his legs. He turned his head away from the curious residents across the street and faced into the wind, toward his desired direction, and continued his walking. The residents quickly dropped what they were doing and craned their necks around the bushes framing their yard to continue gawking at the odd teenager walking down their street. Slowly, he made his way out of their sight as he turned a bend.

There it was.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the tattered remains of what must have once been a beautiful house. The faded white paint was burned and peeling off. The forest green shutters hung off all the windows at odd angles and the door stood wide open. Graffiti covered the sides of the house and people had written messages in the collected dust on the windows. The grass surrounding the house was completely dried up and dead. It was a miserable picture. The house itself seemed to sag with sadness and despair.

The boy stopped in his tracks as he saw the house. His house. Or at least what was left of it. The stares of all the residents in the neighborhood completely forgotten, he made his way slowly forward. At the edge of the grass he paused. He strained his gaze to the open doorway, but anything that might lie inside the house was completely obscured by darkness. He began to consider turning back. Maybe this wasn't a good idea…

Thunder clashed over his head as the wind blew into his face once again, this time more chilly. It was going to rain soon. He hesitated for a second before stepping onto the brown grass that crunched beneath his trainers. As he made his way across the lawn he noticed that anything that grew green stopped at the border of the lawn surrounding this house. It was as if nothing healthy wanted to be close to it. As if it was something evil.

Once he reached the porch, he slowly made his way up the few stairs. He made sure to test each stair before putting his entire weight on it just in case it broke. He wasn't willing or eager to find out what might be living beneath the house. At the top of the stairs he paused once again as he faced the open doorway, which he still had trouble seeing past. He had now lost any control he might have had over his furiously beating heart. It had become almost painful in it's rapid pace. Slowly he walked forward, trying to ignore the splashes of dark red that smeared the porch. They looked horribly like dried blood, but he would rather not focus on that. He jumped slightly as the rain started pouring down, the suddenness of it taking him by surprise. The sound of it hitting the decrepit roof created a roaring so loud that the boy couldn't hear anything except the downpour, not even his own pounding heart.

Finally, after fifteen years of waiting, he took the last step into his house. He paused for a few seconds so his eyes could adjust to the dismal lighting. It didn't help that it was incredibly cloudy outside, thereby blocking any sun that might have filtered through. He considered pulling out his wand and creating his own light, but the possibility of someone being in the house changed his mind. If, indeed, there was someone here and he didn't know it, perhaps he could sneak out of the house before they saw him. Gradually, his eyes adjusted and his heart clenched with what he saw.

What once must have been a grand living room was now completely covered in dust. Nothing must have even come inside the house in years. So much for anyone living here…he thought. Across the room from him sat a large fireplace that still contained a log, although he couldn't really tell the difference between the ash and the dust. A large couch had been placed in front of it and a comfy looking recliner to the right. To his immediate left sat a small table with one chair. Some papers still lay on top of it and a pen lay on the floor underneath. Heavy drapes that must have adorned the windows at one time lay in heaps on the floor.

The boy looked to his right and noticed a swinging door that he didn't really trust to swing anymore. It sat crookedly in its frame and leaned precariously forward. Glancing once more around the room, he slowly made his way towards the door. As he reached out his hand to touch the door, it tilted and began to fall. Jumping out of its way, he let it fall to the floor with a thud that seemed to echo throughout the house and back to him again. He shivered from either fear or excitement, he couldn't tell which, as he walked through the doorway.

He stopped again to take in all of this new room, which turned out to be the kitchen and dining room. To his right, along the wall, ran a counter. Several appliances still sat on them, probably in case muggle neighbors came by. Broken china was scattered all over the floor, and there were more of the horrible red stains. He closed his eyes for a second in an attempt to hold down the nauseous feeling that was creeping into this stomach. After opening his eyes once more, he looked to his left and saw an elegant grandfather clock that had been overturned and lay shattered on the floor. The time was frozen at 3:46. Next to it was a large oak table that sported many burn spots and a splintered leg. He couldn't locate any chairs that might have been at the table. After these observations of the room he made his way towards the table,and looked at thedoor on his left.

MUDBLOOD

It had been smeared on it. Passing up that particular door, he went through a door directly behind the table.

It seemed to be an empty bedroom. It contained no furniture at all and had no furnishings. His brow crinkled in thought as he made his way back towards the other door. He was surprised to find that it pushed open fairly easy and still seemed to be in good shape, not counting the words painted on it. After going through the door he found himself in a hallway. He walked forward some more and discovered a bathroom that contained a large cracked mirror, then another empty bedroom. He paused in confusion at the empty bedrooms, but persisted towards the only thing left - the stairs and whatever lay upstairs.

He slowly walked up the stairs, checking each of them like the ones outside and stepping lightly over a broken one, until he reached the second level. A large portrait was hung on the wall directly in front of him, but the people that had been in the picture were gone. There were only two doors…one on his right and one on his left. He leaned forward and peeked into the room on his left. It was another bathroom with more profanity painted on the floor. Then he turned to the room on his right and walked to the doorway, which was missing a door.

He paused outside the doorway as something inside him tingled. It was the strangest feeling, but it was gone as soon as he realized it was an unfamiliar sensation. The weird thing was, the more he stood there trying to figure out what it was, the quicker it seemed to vanish from his mind. Almost like trying to remember a dream after you wake up – it just seems to vanish from your mind. It's like trying to catch smoke… it wasn't long before he convinced himself that he had just imagined the whole occurrence. He was probably just suffering from a lack of decent sleep or good food.

His stomach lurched at the sight of the room. There was a large vanity set against the right wall. However, the mirror was broken and the glass lay in shatters on the floor. All the makeup and accessories that had been placed on the vanity were strewn across the floor. Then there was a window with drapes lying on the floor. Next was a large bed. The covers were still there but they were all messed up. What had made his stomach lurch were the red stains that covered the sheets. Then, on the wall, hung pictures. Like the one outside the room, none of them contained anything. Their occupants had probably all fled to another portrait. And finally, along the right wall stood a crib. It was colored a light blue and still had the tiny toys attached to the top. It was the only thing in the house that wasn't damaged.

The boy slowly made his way towards the crib. His stomach clenched painfully. Inside the crib was a small blanket, a blue pillow, and a small stuffed rabbit. On the floor beside the crib was a stack of toys that included many-colored wooden blocks, a few children's books, and something that glinted silver that lay partially concealed beneath a stuffed animal. He made no attempt to check the tears that ran down his face as he stared at his belongings. His belongings that he never even knew he had. As he broke down under all the emotions, he lowered his head onto his arms, rested his upper body on the sides of the crib, and cried.

The neighbors never noticed anything extraordinary about the boy that had walked down their street. The only uncommon thing about him was that he went into the house at the end of the street.

That house was something of a legend with the children in the neighborhood. It is common knowledge that older kids tend to enjoy scaring younger kids with scary urban legends. The same was true about the children in this neighborhood. It used to be that the teenagers enjoyed watching the younger kid's faces grow white with fear when they told the story of how a young couple with a child had been murdered in the house.

However, four years ago the legend telling all came to a sudden halt.

It was a clear and windy day. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right… All the kids sitting in a big circle underneath the apple tree in Tony Henbit's front yard were aware of the parent's watchful eyes from their houses.

The kids had been friends as long as they could remember, which, in actuality, wasn't that long at all seeing how they hadn't been alive for that long. They sat in a big circle just like they did every year before school began. It was a sort of ritual that mourned the passing of another summer. They would all sit there for hours and talk about nothing of any great importance, eat apples that fell out of the tree, and sip Root Beer. As the day began to grow dark, their conversation turned to the house at the end of the road. The one that their parents told them not to talk about…

Blonde and blue-eyed Suzie Carmichael scooted closer to Jonathon Crozier. These kinds of talks always frightened her. There were a few within their group that constantly felt like they needed to prove they were tough and grown up, and talking bravely about the house at the end of the street was their favorite way of showing off. Plus, it gave them a reason to playfully tease Suzie for being a "scaredy-cat."

She hated being called that…

Feeling a need to prove herself to their banter, she angrily called out to Tim, the boy who always led the teasing of her.

"Well, if you're so tough, why don't you go in that house?" She was surprised as soon as the words came out. She never retaliated to their teasing since she knew it was all in fun, but she really hated being called a scaredy-cat, and Tim was the worst about it.

The teasing abruptly stopped as all eyes went to Tim who looked shocked. Suzie – little, shy, freckled Suzie – had just dared him. And anyone who knew Tim knew he never backed down from a dare. His eyes narrowed at the challenge.

"Well maybe I will!" he shot back.

Suzie paused for a moment, struggling to think up the best dare she could. She had to make it a good one or else she would never live it down.

"Alright, Tim. I dare you to go into the house. But you cant just go inside and then come right back out. You have to go upstairs. And to prove you went up there, look out the window so we see you." She pointed to the only window on the second story. "If you do that without peeing your pants you can call me a scaredy-cat for the rest of my life." Suzie felt smug with her dare. It was definitely good.

Tim couldn't help but hesitate at the dare. Even if he did go through with the dare successfully – which he would! – If his mom or dad caught him, he would be dead meat…but slowly his ego took over and the need to prove Suzie wrong forced him to spit out, "You're on!"

All the kids in the circle gasped, even Suzie. She had not really expected him to agree! And all the kids present knew the price he would pay for getting caught in the house. After all, it was forbidden. But then again, that made it all the more appealing. Slowly, Tim turned on his heel and began walking towards the house. He heard the rest of his friend's scramble up behind him and felt their stares on his back. Nervously, he checked the windows of all the houses where the parents were usually watching from, hopeful for a way out of the dare, but there was no such luck. Any parents that were there ten minutes ago were gone now. It was almost like fate.

He boldly walked across the lawn, but with each step closer to the ominous house a little more of his bravery seemed to fade into fear. By the time he had reached the steps to the porch he couldn't help but pause and look back. His friends all stood in a line at the edge of the property, none willing to take one more step forward onto the dried grass.

"Well…" Suzie called out, "go on."

A little bit of anger surged back into his mind at her taunting tone and he boldly stepped onto the porch and entered through the open doorway into the darkness. As soon as he was out of sight, however, he stopped. He was in the house at the end of the street. He was in the house at the end of the street! His heart began to beat faster. All the stories his older brother had told him when he was younger came rushing back. Eager to get out of the house already, he walked quickly to the only door out of the room. As he entered the kitchen he saw two doors – one with some weird word on it and the other one blank.

Thud!

He heard it in the room behind him, and, as his heart jumped in fear, he rushed forward in panic through the door with the word on it. He almost breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the stairs at the end of the hallway.

Thud! Thud!

There it was again! He skidded to a stop and pressed himself against the wall and glanced back down the way he came. It felt like hours but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Nothing. His heartbeat slowing slightly, he glanced down the hallway to where the stairs were. They weren't that far. Glancing back to the door, he made a decision to run for it. He almost slipped in the collected dust, but quickly regained his footing and sprinted the rest of the hallway. He grabbed the banister to prevent himself from colliding with the wall and used his momentum to hurl himself around the corner and up the stairs.

Thud! Thud!

He heard it again downstairs, but it didn't sound any closer. Pushing open the door on his left, he saw a bathroom, but it didn't have a window in it. Knowing that he was almost finished, he opened the door on the right.

The rest of the group was lined up on the street at the edge of the property. They had been throwing rocks at the sides of the house in an attempt to scare Tim. They had all laughed when they heard his footsteps thundering through the house. It would be a miracle if he got out of there without peeing his pants. Suzie was especially smug. She had finally stood up to Tim and boy did she get him good!

They heard the footsteps stop at the top story and knew it wouldn't be long before they saw Tim's white face appear at the dusty window.

They waited.

The smiles began to leave their faces as nobody appeared. Then they all jumped as an ear-splitting scream shattered the stillness of the neighborhood. Their hearts slowed to their normal pace quickly as Jonathon said it was probable just Tim trying to scare them. The group chuckled a little nervously. They continued to wait, all their eyes focused intently on the sole window on the second story, but still no Tim.

Then, as if in slow motion, an object came flying out of the window. The glass exploded as the object did somersaults in the air. The kids backtracked in wonder and fright. What was it? As the object landed on the ground with a sickening crunch, Suzie ventured forward. She glanced back once only to see the frightened, yet curious, faces of her friends. Cautiously, she turned forward and began walking again. The glass crunched under her feet as she neared the object. It was bent at an odd angle and, as the wind blew softly, something light brown ruffled. She paused and then leaned forward…

…And screamed as she saw Tim LaGrange's twisted body, his face frozen in an eternal mask of fear.

None of the kids ever seemed to have gotten over that, but in order to maintain an image of normality, no one ever mentioned the incident. The only reminder of that day was when the Carmichaels went to visit Suzie. She was in a mental institution. At the sight of her childhood friend's twisted body, she had lost it. It was rumored that one could normally find her sitting in the corner of her padded room, rocking back and forth and mumbling to herself about nonsense.

So, understandably, all the occupants on the street were preparing for the worst when the boy entered the old, abandoned house. The whole suburb seemed to hold its breath and jumped as one when the boy emerged from the darkness that obscured the front doorway.

As the boy walked from the house without a backwards glance, he seemed, if possible, even more tired and defeated looking than when he had first arrived. One mother, who scooped up her kids and took them into the house as he walked by, noticed he looked about sixteen or seventeen, and couldn't help but wonder if he was related to the people who had lived in the house all those years before.

She was one of the only residents who had remained in the neighborhood throughout all the unnatural occurrences over the past sixteen years. She could vividly remember visiting with the people who lived there - the Potters. She could even recall seeing their son - was it Harry? - once, not soon after he was born. As she scurried back through her front door, her children peering around her legs curiously, she fleetingly thought that, perhaps, this was their son come to pay his respects to his dead parents. He even resembled James. However, she quickly dismissed the thought as the images of the night that family had been attacked flittered through her mind. Although the police had never found the body of the Potter's young son, they just assumed him most likely dead and left it at that. Anyway, the police were far more curious about how the Potter's had died, since there had been no marks on their bodies.

Hastily, she shut the front door.

As the boy exited the house and made his way across the front lawn, he couldn't help but realize with a start that, when he was only one year old, he almost died in there. It was a disconcerting thought that kind of put his nerves on the edge. Definitely not his most pleasing memory.

He began walking up the street, back towards the direction he had come from. On the way, he noticed a middle-aged woman ushering her two young kids inside her house. The kids kept trying to peek glimpses at him, but the mother forcefully pushed them inside. In her doorway, she turned to glance at him and he was startled to see some sign of recognition in her eyes, but it was quickly distinguished. He looked to the front once more as she slammed the door.

Not really paying attention to where he was going, his thoughts drifted to what he would do next. He knew what he should do. After all, Dumbledore wanted him to return and had even placed a spell there to protect him. It was the least he could do to fulfill Dumbledore's wishes. He sighed exhaustingly. Although nothing strenuous had occurred in the house, the emotional quality of the visit had left him feeling like he had run a marathon. What was even more disgusting was that it felt like he had lost.

He had visited Godric's Hollow with the intention and hopes of finding something that would have lead him to one of Voldemort's horcruxes, even though he knew he wasn't ready to try and destroy one. However, the only thing he had managed to find was a hole deep in his heart that still hurt sometimes over the loss of his family.

He apologized quietly as he bumped into a man walking the opposite direction and stared around trying to figure out where he was. As soon as he figured it out, he turned in the direction he needed to go, which was a completely different direction from where he had come.

As soon as he had jumped off of the Hogwarts Express at the end of his sixth year, he had began his journey to his parents house. No distractions, no rests. He had traveled constantly until he had arrived. Now, he was going back to the Dursleys. He would honor Dumbledore's wishes, at least until his seventeenth birthday. After that, the spell would wear off and he would be vulnerable. He would decide what to do after that when the time came.

He sighed again as he began, what he estimated to be, a two - maybe three - week journey.

The Dursleys certainly wouldn't be happy with him when he arrived. Aunt Petunia would be especially disgusted at his filthiness and scruffiness. Well, at least she couldn't kick him out. That was one good thing at least.

To pass time as he walked, he thought of all the stuff that had happened to him over the sixteen years he had been alive. Not counting what was still bound to happen to him, the events he had already survived through would be enough to write a novel-length book. Maybe that's what he should do. Write a book.

Or maybe he should get Hermione to write it for him. She was a better writer.

He even knew how he would start it…

I'm Harry Potter and this is my story.

Yeah. He liked the sound of that.

Hey everyone! This is the latest production of my crazy mind. I hope everyone enjoyed it, but if you didn't…well, you can move on because I don't care. )

Disclaimer: I own nothing relating to Harry Potter. I don't even own rights to the Root Beer the kids were drinking. However, I do own Suzie Carmichael, Tim LaGrange, Jonathon Crozier.

There's really not much else to say without repeating myself or expressing my absolute love for anything Harry Potter so I'll just ask the readers to please review!

Luckyducky