Notes: Figured I should give you more, before you turn into an angry mob…

A few more things I need to get out of the way, then back to more horcruxes. A nice long chapter for ya'll.

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Harry left Grimmauld Place early the next morning. Ginny was still asleep on the couch. He hoped that she'd be gone long before he came back. He made sure that the fireplace was floo-able before leaving, so that she could get home without loosing any feet.

Around ten in the morning, he popped onto a street that he hadn't been near in more than seventeen years. He had no idea where exactly he was, but he knew that it was the right place. The street sign said Godric's Hollow.

He walked slowly down the street. It reminded him of Privet Drive – except a lot more inviting and fun. All of the houses were the same, but there was more room in between each one than there was on Privet Drive. A group of children were playing in a backyard. Two little girls were sitting on the grass, when three little boys came running outside and sprayed them with squirt guns. The girls shrieked and ran past Harry, not even noticing that he was there. The boys paused for a second when he walked past, but then chased after the girls, apparently not thinking that Harry was any threat to them.

About half way down the road, Harry stopped. Across the street was a smaller house with a for sale sign on the lawn. This is it, he thought. I can feel it…

He crossed the street and looked at the sign. He wondered why it was for sale. Maybe no one ever bought it…

"Can I help you sir?" He heard from behind him. A woman was in the driveway, coming out of a van that had the name of the same realtor on the side. "Are you here for the open house?"

"How long has this house been for sale?" Harry asked.

"Oh, years, from what I've heard. I've only been on the sale for the last few months. A couple was murdered in there. I think it was about -"

"Twenty years ago." Harry said, nodding. "Yes. Almost twenty." Harry felt very old for a second.

"Yes, very sad. I heard they left behind a son. Poor thing… I wonder what ever happened to him."

"You're looking at him." Harry mumbled.

"Really? Oh, my, sir – I had no idea you were -"

"Would you mind if I take a look inside?" Harry interrupted.

"Oh, of course you can. Here, I'll let you in." She pulled out a key chain with lots of keys on it. Harry almost told here to forget the keys – he could unlock it on his own – but then he thought that she had to be a muggle. Best let her do it. It might look a little odd if the door opens on its own.

The woman opened the door for him, and Harry stepped inside. Yes, this was the right house. He could feel it. He had seen it in a few of his dreams before.

"Sir?" the woman said, "If I may ask, are you interested in buying the house?"

"No," Harry said, "I have a house. I was just passing by and thought I'd stop."

"Of course. You can look around all you like." Harry was already doing just that. He walked around the living room a few times and wondered how the muggles ever found out about the murders. Isn't the Ministry supposed to take care of it before the muggles get there? He thought. But it didn't really matter now. The woman only knew because she was selling the house – the neighbors probably had no idea – unless, of course, they were wizards.

After a few minutes of pacing, he found it. One spot on the floor had a great impression on Harry. This is where it happened, he thought. This is where my father died… He paused for a second, and then moved on.

There were two doors on the back wall. One door was opened, showing the bathroom, but the other was closed. Harry went to it and opened the door. All that was in there was a bed, but Harry saw something else. A scream that he had heard many times before, and then a woman collapsed on the floor… Harry turned quickly and slammed the door shut.

"Sir? Is everything alright?" Calm down, he told himself. There was only a bed in there. You're seeing things… "Sir?"

"Yes, yes everything's fine." Harry said, stepping away from the door.

"If you don't mind telling me, how did they die?" the woman asked, stepping closer to him. "I mean, how were they murdered? Was it a gun?"

"Something like that." Harry said, nodding.

"Did they ever catch the murderer?"

"No."

"What? It's been nearly twenty years. Surely they've found something."

"They know who did it." Harry said. "But he's impossible to catch. Everyone who has tried hasn't made it out alive. Or at least not sane."

"Well, I'm sure they'll catch him eventually. They always do."

"No, they won't. But I will." Harry stepped past her and headed for the door.

"Is that wise?" the woman asked, following him. "Going after a murderer yourself?"

Harry sighed. Apparently she wasn't a witch. "I'm the only one that can catch him. I know you don't understand it, but it's what has to be done." He stepped out the door to leave.

"Good luck with your hunt." The woman said.

"Thanks." Harry left the house and turned to go back down the street. He could see a cemetery just down the road, and he hoped that it was the right one.

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It was snowing - a very wet and sticky snow. Harry sat on the ground with his eyes closed, in between two graves. On his left the headstone said Lily, and on the right it said James. Both loving spouses, parents, and friends. Taken away from life too early. Yes, Harry thought. Far too early.

The snow turned into a small blizzard. Harry could feel it soaking through his clothes, but he ignored the cold and the wet. He was going to sit there as long as possible.

The graves were very plain. A bunch of old, dead flowers were planted nearby. No one had been there for a while. Harry stood up and cleared the snow away, after checking to make sure no one could see him magically poof it to the hillside nearby. Then he revived the flowers, remembering an old spell from herbology that he thought would never be useful. He conjured more flowers until the gravesite looked like a spring flower garden. These flowers would never die, as they were magically enhanced. They would stay the same forever – or at least until Harry died.

He saw an open space beside his father's grave. That's my spot, he thought. Right there, next to them. He was afraid to think that he might be there sooner than he thought. He looked at the graves once more, and then turned to leave, making a mental note to tell someone where he wanted to be buried.

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Two days after Christmas, Harry sat alone at Grimmauld Place, trying to keep the fire going. It was freezing cold outside, and a fire that refused to stay lit wasn't helping. It had snowed for three days straight, making it very hard to leave the house without magically forcing the door open. Eventually Harry gave up on the fire and went upstairs.

I should look at those memories, he thought. I'm not going anywhere in this storm anyway. But when he went to get them out, he changed his mind. Leaning against the back of the trunk was his Firebolt. It was dirty and the bristles were frayed everywhere. He pulled it out and grabbed his broom polishing kit. Even if he might never use it again, it was too good of a broom to be in that condition.

As he polished the handle, he heard someone coming up the stairs. Harry dropped the broom and pulled out his wand, ready for whatever would come through the door. Whoever it was was limping badly. Maybe it's Moody… but Moody doesn't have bright red hair…

"Are you going to kill me?" Ron asked, stepping into the doorway. "I see the welcome I get. Thought you might have missed me, but instead you want to attack me."

Harry sighed and sank back onto the bed. "I didn't know who was there. For all I know you could have been a death eater."

"Yeah – me? A death eater?"

"Well – I -" Ron walked slowly into the room. "I thought you weren't ever going to walk again."

"Amazing the things potions can fix. Re-growing your entire left leg is quite painful though." He sat next to Harry on the bed. "Did you come to the hospital? I didn't see you."

"Well, I – umm -"

"Mum got to you first, right? She exaggerates a lot. I was never really that hurt."

"A troll stepped on you; you had to re-grow your left leg; and you weren't really that hurt?"

"Okay, maybe I was. But potions can fix anything. Now, if we were muggles, then they might have had to amputate." He spotted Harry's Firebolt on the bed. "Playing quidditch in the snow?"

"No. It was all dirty, and I was bored."

"You must miss quidditch. I mean, I miss it, and I'm no where near as into it as you are."

"What is it with boys and quidditch?" Harry heard. Hermione was standing right where Ron had just been.

"I though I told you to go home." Harry said.

"I did. And now I'm back." She walked across the room and joined them on the bed. "Mum and dad weren't too happy with me leaving school. All I heard the last few weeks is how much time I'm wasting and how my future is ruined. They don't understand what I'm doing – what we're doing."

"Who's we?" Harry asked. "I don't remember being part of a we."

"You know that you can't get rid of us that easily." Ron said. "Besides, if we go home, then we both have to deal with psychotic parents."

"How'd your mum take it when you left?" Harry asked Ron.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You know how she is. 'You're not going back out there. You're going to Hogwarts.'" He imitated in a high-pitched voice. "Good thing we learned how to apparate before we left."

"So you just poofed away?" Hermione asked. "Don't you think she's worried about you?"

"I told her that she can't control me anymore. I don't belong in Hogwarts without you two. Or at least without Harry. I could last without the other one." Hermione reached across Harry and slapped Ron. "Ow! - I was only kidding. Without you we'd both be confused."

"You're always confused Ron." Hermione said, glaring at him.

"My point exactly."

"Enough, both of you." Harry said. "Well, if nothing else I can keep you around for entertainment."

"That's the spirit." Ron said. "So where to next?"

"No where. We can't get very far in this storm."

"What about the memories?" Hermione suggested.

"That's what I was going to do before you two showed up." Harry said, getting up to set up the pensive.

"Ron, get one of the memories." Hermione commanded.

"Yes oh fearless leader." Ron mumbled, getting up as well. Hermione shoved him back onto the bed and got the memory herself.

"Will you two quit fancying each other so much and give me the memory?" Harry said.

"What!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Quit denying it Hermy." Ron said, reaching into the trunk for one of the memories. "We all know that you want me."

"Not even in your dreams, Ronald Weasley." Hermione said, snatching the bottle from him and pouring it into the pensive.