The beginning of the end, an interesting sentence. But what does it really mean? What does it mean to begin the end? That question is not so hard when the answer is Voldemort. The hard part is how.

Harry walked down the street, wondering how Gordics hollow would look like. People brushed against him in a big hurry, late for a business meeting or to pick up their children from school, or some unimportant reason. Saving the world was a reason to be in a hurry, yet Harry wasn't. He was lost in thought. Trying to get a picture of Gordics hollow brought up some memories, not real ones, just the photos in his album.

A smiling Serius holding a baby Harry…

Lily kissing and hugging James lovingly…

It would have been so different… but it isn't and that's the reason he must begin the end, so to speak.

Harry dwelt into a side street and ended up in an abandoned, dead end alley. He had finally got a picture of what the kitchen should have looked like from the photo. No one was around so Harry closed his eyes and thought again how the place looked, not thinking that it might not look the same anymore, since it burned down.

When the squeezing feeling finally stopped and Harry's feet found firm ground he couldn't open his eyes. The thought to see the place where his parents died scared him… Why did he come here? Because Dumbledore said so!

Open your eyes, open your eyes, OPEN YOUR EYES!

Harry finally opened his eyes.

The house was indeed in ruins, It was between some low hills with a little town just near. People were scarce and the town looked in ruins, most of it anyhow. From where he stood he could see quite a bit of the town and most of it desperately needed a new coat of paint. That was the least of the problems: some houses had holes in the roof, some had walls almost caving in. Harry could almost swear Voldemort had been there, that would at least explain the state the town was in.

Back to the reason Harry came there. Dumbledore said that this was where everything began, so where would he look first. The house or the graveyard. The house first Harry thought, he was already standing there and he didn't know if he really wanted to see his parents' graves right now. Not when it was almost dark. He wasn't afraid of ghosts, but meeting one in a dark graveyard would not be that good.

Harry walked around the walls still standing around the site the house once stood. The house looked to have had large comfortable rooms. He found what looked to be the living room, since it had a fireplace. Harry sat down and looked at the sunset. The sun shone bright red on the horizon, the sky also red , looking as if it was painted with blood. And still Harry sat with his back against the wall imagining how the house would have looked if it hadn't burnt down. Slowly Harry sank into sleep.

His dreams were all but peaceful. Flashes of photo's he had of his parents. The ruined house. An evil cackling laugh. And the sound that has been haunting him as far as he could remember: his mothers cry as she tried to protect him from Voldemort. All swirling, flashing, mixing into one disfigured nightmare.

Harry woke with a searing pain in his scar, not able to open his eyes, again. He heard footsteps breaking the deadly silence. Stopping a few paces away. A cold, hard voice saying in an undertone "I'll be watching your every move, boy!" Again the menacing evil laugh and suddenly nothing more except the almost unbearing silence.

Who was that Harry wondered as the pain in his scar disappeared as suddenly as it came. Harry looked around there was no sign that anyone just stood there. The stars were bright Harry marked, and the moon shone red or was it just his imagination. As the sun would be up soon Harry started to walk down the overgrown path in search of some breakfast in the town. Halfway down the slope Harry stopped to look at the sunrise. It was beautiful. The golden glint of the first sunrays was magical chasing away the darkness to give way to a new day. Pinks and greys and blues and orange, a picture not even Picasso could try to replicate.

Why have I never seen this before? He was up early almost every morning at the Dursley's, why not? Why not see it before?

I never thought to look at it, always looking at the problem, never at the light that may shine behind it. Never looking at the good of the world, stuck in the evil.

That would change here, Voldemort would die and he would be the one to do it. The darkness would give way to light. As night just gave way to day.

As he neared the town Harry could here some sounds of people rising. But not everywhere like in Surrey, just in some houses. Down the road was an inn. Not the brightest place on the block, but it should have food.

The door was hanging loose from its hinges, staying up just by fate. Paint peeling of the walls, at least the windows was whole. Dust covered the grandpa clock standing in one of the corners. The early morning sun lighting up the dust particles drifting up from the chair where Harry put down his backpack. The counter looked clean and the man behind it fast asleep.

"Hello" Nothing happened.

"Sir, can you hear me?" Still nothing.

Harry rang the bell and it echoed in the empty foyer. The man behind the counter almost fell from his chair, knocking his classes askew.

"May I help you?" He asked placing his glasses back on his nose. He had a long face, a round nose and his eyes was just slits in his head. His head was almost bold, he had just a few grey hairs on each side of his head.

"Yeah, I wondered if you serve breakfast?"

"If you go down the hall, on your left you will see a big door, that will be the dining room. You can pay there."

"Thanks"

The dining room was in a better condition than the part of the inn Harry saw. It was clean and not that dusty. It was a small room with just a few tables and chairs against the walls, in the centre there stood a big table with dishes, some full of food, but most empty. Harry chose a seat near the window, looking over a rather large rundown, overgrown garden. He took a plate and started to load eggs on his plate. Together with toast, it didn't make a bad breakfast.

Halfway through his meal a man looking to be the chef came out of a door to the side of the room. He looked at Harry, grunted and left the room by the big door leading to the foyer. After a few minutes he come back and walked over to Harry.

"5 pounds you know"

"Ok," And Harry took the money out of his bag.

"Have you been here before?" The man asked looking intently at Harry.

"No, … why?" Harry asked, but the man was walking towards his kitchen as soon as he said no.

Harry wondered why the man asked, but left the town s soon as he finished eating. Today would be a day as good as any other to visit the graves of his parents. Better get that over and done with.

The cemetery was just out of town, on the opposite side of the burnt down house. When Harry neared the fence of the cemetery he suddenly didn't feel so confident anymore. The feeling of hope he had when the sun rose that morning had disappeared. Still nearing the cemetery Harry suddenly felt afraid. What would he find in there?

At the entrance Harry stopped and looked back, the town wasn't that far would he just turn around and go back? No! He must, someday he might be sorry he never went there. And Dumbledore said he must go back to the beginning, and what was more back than the death of his parents. He needed to see them.

He took a deep breath and stepped through the gate. The last time he was in a graveyard suddenly flashed in his head… Cerdic. The time he won the tri-wizard cup, the time Cerdic died, the time Voldemort regained his body using his blood… Harry shook his head violently, now was not the time to think about that. He doesn't need bad memories of graveyards now.

The cemetery had a dark feel to it, despite the warm morning. Harry walked down the path in the middle, graves on both sides. The graveyard resembled the town, just as rundown, weeds and grasses growing everywhere, including the path. Most of the trees were dead. Headstones where broken and cracked.

Harry stopped at one. It must have been majestic once. It stood as tall as he was now, and he has grown a bit over the summer, with a huge angel on top. The name was partly worn away. The man must have been rich. It must have been a man since the words "my loving husband" was all he could make out on the grave. Though some of the letters were missing.

Harry continued down the overgrown path looking for the names he was desperately looking for. James and Lily Potter. Harry found them, near the end of the path. The gravestones were covered in dust and the graves littered with leaves and covered in grass. They must have been charmed, because beside the dust, they were still in a fine condition. Harry sat down between the two graves. Looking at the one, then the other. He stood up on his knees and wiped the dust from his mothers name with a shaking hand. His vision became foggy, not knowing why. Then he realised it was his own tears. He turned to his father's grave and wiped the dust of again.

Don't cry, not now, please not now! Harry wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. He also wiped the rest of the dust from the two gravestones. On his mothers grave there stood "Lily Potter, Loving wife and caring mother. I'm not that sure when they died, the date must just come in here, can you help please? I think 30 October 1989" On his fathers grave stood "James Potter, Loving husband and caring father, 30 October 1989"

His hand touched something small carved into the bottom of his father's gravestone. What can it be? Harry looked down to see. Left of the right, front of the back, a secret you'll find of what you lack.

What does it mean? Harry read the words again. What on earth does it mean? Harry looked at his mother's gravestone, nothing at the bottom. He inspected both the two stones entirely, but found nothing else except his name carved in small at the back of his mother's stone. He sat with his back against his father's gravestone pondering over the words that didn't seem to mean anything and why his name? It didn't have any special meaning as far as he knew. But everyone else always attached his name to either "the boy who lived' or "the saviour". And that wouldn't have had any meaning to his parents, would it? He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the footsteps approach, or see the clouds covering the bright morning sky.