-1Chapter Thirteen
Note from Author: Harry's feeling a bit sad.
Harry's POV
I watch the scene around me as if detached from my own body. Since Dumbledore's death, it's been like there's no one to help. No one to guide. No one to look up to, and no one to grieve with. I've had quite a few days of this on going torment, where suddenly the whole grief and pain I've suffered wash over me. Everyone in my life dead. Everyone whom I care for, or very nearly. Who deserves this? And why me? I know people have lost relations and family through Voldemort, but surely they don't feel like me. Like their entire family they built from friends was about to crumble around them under the wrath of Lord Voldemort. No one feels so angry, so tormented, that they know they'll follow him till the day they die? Pursue him? Kill him? Die in the process? 'Cause I may only be seventeen, but I've got a lot more motivation to kill than Draco Malfoy last year. With Dumbledore. And the person I'm out to seek, they deserve it.
I didn't think, somehow, that Godric's Hollow would look like this. You'd think that someone would come and clear away the rubble, but it looks so remote I doubt any one ever comes here. A lot of the wood has begun to decompose with time. I wonder which was my bedroom? Which was the sitting room? Where's the landing, where Voldemort stepped over my dad's body?
I wish they were here. I wish somebody was here. Anybody. Geeze, where's Ginny or Hermione when you need them?
I look up, wipe my eyes with the back of my sleeve, and notice an owl coming towards me. There's a letter in it's talons; I could cry for joy! Hermione and Ron finally decided to write. I kneel in the rubble, looking the very image of sorrow, but there's a deep root happiness inside me. Thank Merlin I have friends. Friends who actually write.
The owl lands next to me, and I hurriedly untie the letters. I unseal the yellowish parchment and read the letters, savouring every word. Then, prepared as I am, I take a quill from my jeans pocket and write a well-thought out reply to each.
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So. Godric's Hollow. It sounds like it's supposed to be a cosy place. A place to be warmed by a fire. But in reality, it's a pile of broken beams and bricks, laden with dust and surrounded by a clinging fog that seems to just dwell around the edges of the former building. There is nothing here. Well, at least it doesn't look like there is. The owl flew away ages ago, leaving me quite alone in this pile of rubbish. I pick through it, sometimes looking for life, but the only thing in sight is the rubble on the floor that comes up to my knees at its shallowest points. And then, quite by chance, and glint of something catches my eye.
A mirror.
Only a mirror, but I go over to it anyway. There's still the remains of some kind of frame outside it, worked in silver and fragile. It possesses a kind of beauty that comes only from fragility. Hm. Strange. I turn it over in my hands, look at it from every angle as if expecting some kind of clue on what to do next. There's no writing, no symbols. No other pieces scattered around. Just this one, on its own. A bit like me, really.
I look at it properly, so it reflects my face. So, it isn't like the mirror of the Erised. It doesn't show me what I want to see -- but perhaps that's because I'm not really sure what I want to see. What's the deepest desire of my heart? Seeing Sirius. Seeing Dumbledore. Seeing my parents. Ending this. Being normal. Completely and utterly normal. Getting revenge. Finding Horcruxes. God, they're all top of the list. How to put them in order of priority?
I put the mirror back down with a sigh, but then something in the glass catches my eye. It's as if it was positioned there for a reason, so someone would look through and see…
I crouch down and look closer into the mirror, to see something in the landscape behind me that I didn't quite catch before. A brass door handle, in the side of the only remaining wall. There is no door.
Maybe there is a Horcrux here…
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Note from Author: Tee hee, Ill leave it there, and torture you. Mwahahah.