Godric's Hollow was a lovely seaside resort in Northern England. It looked mostly the same as Harry could remember from pictures of his parents—or are they my parents?--except for a few renovations. The people their looked generally cheerful and good-natured, and willing to answer all his questions. It seemed from what the inhabitants remembered that Lily Potter had befriended one of the sirens who migrated there annually.
Harry was shocked at this revelation, without knowing why, but realized that now more than ever he needed to find out all he could about his birth-parents. And so, Harry and Malva made their long and tremulous way towards Carnëchil, the legendary siren caves.
The two finally stopped at a sandy bluff overlooking the sparkling waters of the sea. Not far off their was a cluster of greenish blue rocks. Harry thought he caught a glimpse of a scaly tail, but it was just a wave laughing in the sun. Harry felt Malva tense beside him. "What's wrong," he asked her, concerned.
"I hear a whispering melody from the West... I think there are sirens resting on those rocks. I fear for you. Harry? Harry, no!" She lunged forward to grab him, but he had already escaped her grasp. Lured by the siren's eerie song, Harry had stepped forward and fallen off the cliff. The two mile high cliff, which ended in scraggly rocks and sharks.
Malva, screaming in fear, rushed to the side of the cliff, watching Harry fall as though in slow motion, a shrinking figure against the deep blue of the ocean. She reached behind her in one fluid movement, grabbing an arrow from her quiver and shooting it from her bow in a high arc. The arrow plummeted as though shot from a projectile gun, catching up with the fallen boy, striking him. Malva grabbed at the rope she had hastily tied to the arrow and began tugging, arm over arm, to pull Harry to safety. Her shot was true. Harry had been saved by his left toe.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Realizing that Harry would need a few days to recover, Malva carried him to a thicket in the dark woods near a small village called Kathapa. She left him their and ran to the village to get tents and supplies as quickly as she could.
While she was gone, Harry rolled fitfully on the ground, unconscious. In a state of shock from falling nearly a thousand feet and then being pulled up by an arrow strung through his toe, he had been traumatized severely. Nothing this bad had ever happened to him, not when he fell off his broom in third year, or had all his arm bones replaced in second year, or fought off Quirrel, or when he saw Voldemort come back and had to duel him, or when he met him again in his fifth year. This was much worse. Never before had Harry been so traumatized. He gained consciousness and began sobbing quietly to himself, irrationally afraid that he had been abandoned in the forest, that Malva had deserted him in the wilderness.
Just then, Malva galloped up, her long hair flowing behind her, carrying two folded tents over her shoulder. When she saw that the boy was awake, she bent over him to check his injuries and state of health. He opened his eyes when she placed a cool hand on his forehead, checking for a temperature. At the sight of her, he felt that a huge hole in his heart had been ripped out, and sewn back with loving care. He tried not to meet her eyes.
Over the next few days, there was a mutual uncomfortableness between the two half-breeds. Never was a loving word spoken between them, but they both knew the other had fallen in love with them. Harry refused to acknowledge it in his higher brain, feeling that a monster like himself was not worthy of the beautiful centaur. By loving her, he would be placing her in imminent danger—who knew when the talents latent inside him would erupt?
That evening, as he lay in bed, he realized that if the first half of what Dumbledore had said was true, then the second half must be as well. Not only was his mother a siren, but his father was a dragon. He was nothing but the mutt of a scaly ferocious lizard. No, there was no debating the fact—Harry would have to leave Malva, and never see her again. He didn't, of course, know that Malva loved Harry to his core, and would have done so even if he were a Tyrannosaurus Rex in appearance. Still, Harry had resolved himself. He had realized the last thing he must do: find his father.
Two days later he received a reply to the letter he had sent to Charlie Weasley. Their was a herd of Hungarian Horntails settling in a valley no more than two hundred miles from where he stood. Without leaving any notes for Malva, Harry left the camp.