Harry and Sirius had decided to leave for Godric's Hollow three days before the rendezvous at Hogwarts. Godric's Hollow wasn't very big, Sirius had said, and could very easily be seen in its entirety in a matter of hours, but they had to take into account that Bathilda Bagshot might not be able to meet with them right away. As it would be a short trip, their bags were packed in a matter of minutes, which left Harry with several days of nothing. He tried tackling his summer homework and playing chess with Draco to pass the time, but neither proved an adequate distraction – both boys were too preoccupied with the girls' absence to really concentrate on anything. Harry also would have been lying if he'd said he wasn't anxious about the trip – in addition to speaking with one of the most noted magical historians in the world, he'd also have the opportunity to visit his parents' graves, and he wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to feel about that.
Harry ate very little the morning of their departure, which was probably for the best – in addition to his nerves, he was facing travel by Side-Along Apparition, which was definitely not one of his preferred modes of transportation; it always made him feel disoriented and nauseous. Once they'd finished brushing their teeth and triple-checked that they had everything, Harry and Sirius bid the rest of Grimmauld Place's residents goodbye and stepped out into the deserted street. Sirius glanced around to make sure they were truly alone, then clasped Harry's hand and turned on the spot, a distinct pop the only evidence that they'd been there at all.
Harry groaned and bent over with his hands on his knees as soon as he felt his feet make contact with solid ground. Even with a practically empty stomach, he still felt terrible.
"Side-Along really messes with you, doesn't it?" Sirius said sympathetically, rummaging in his pack. He produced a small vial of bright purple liquid and offered it to Harry, who eyed it apprehensively.
"Trust me, it'll help," Sirius said, and Harry popped the cork and swallowed the contents in one gulp, sighing when his vision cleared almost instantly. The nausea too was gone, and Harry smiled gratefully as he handed back the empty vial.
"How did you know you'd need that?" Harry asked, gesturing to the vial as Sirius put it back in his bag.
"Harry, I know we didn't take you around via Side-Along very often, but I'd have to be blind not to notice how sick you got every time we tried," Sirius said. "Besides, I've been carrying this stuff since long before you were born – James was even worse, used to practically faint at the mere thought of Apparating."
"My dad didn't like Apparition either?" Harry asked. He, of course, knew so very little about his father, and even though it was an odd trait to share, it still felt nice to know they had something in common.
"You inherited more from him than just your aversion to Apparition," Sirius said with a chuckle, almost as if he'd read Harry's thoughts. "Your Quidditch talent, for one, and of course you could pass for his twin save that you've got your mum's eyes." Sirius smiled fondly. "You remind me a lot of your dad – but maybe we could walk while we talk? Seems kind of stupid to just stand in the alley all day, doesn't it?" Harry grinned sheepishly and looked around. They were indeed standing in a narrow alley between two buildings and would probably get odd looks from passersby if they stayed there for too long.
"Lead the way," he said, and followed Sirius out of the alley.
Godric's Hollow was a truly charming little village, Harry thought, the quaint shops surrounding the village square looking like they'd walked right out of some medieval tapestry. A war memorial, large and shiny and looking rather out of place in its old-fashioned setting, sat in the middle of the square next to a bubbling fountain, and there was a small stone church a short distance down the main road. Other smaller roads branched off from the square in all directions, leading to little clusters of cottages. People bustled about the square, visiting the shops and occasionally stopping to chat with friends or neighbors. Harry could immediately see why his parents had liked this place – Wizarding history aside, it was incredibly warm and welcoming.
"Shall we?" Sirius said. He gestured towards a two-story inn bearing a proud sign proclaiming it 'The Golden Lion'.
"Well, that's not obvious at all," Harry said with a snort, gesturing to the sign. "I thought this was a Muggle village as well?"
"It is," Sirius explained as they walked towards the inn. "Both wizards and Muggles have lived here since this town was founded – quite harmoniously, I might add, although of course the Muggles don't suspect anything. You won't find any blatant Wizarding shops here, but some places do cater to both crowds – the chemist is also an apothecary, for instance, and this inn serves excellent butterbeer. You just have to know who your fellow wizards are so that you don't accidentally ask a Muggle employee for rat spleens or newt tails or anything like that." They'd reached the entrance to the inn by the time Sirius finished his explanation, and he pushed open the door, motioning Harry inside.
The interior of the Golden Lion was cozy and brightly lit, and Harry noted the red-and-gold color scheme with both amusement and pride. Scrubbed wooden tables – all of them empty at the moment, as it was still too early for any sort of lunch crowd – were scattered throughout the room, a long counter took up most of the back wall, and a narrow staircase in the far corner led to the guest rooms. A dark-haired man with a thick beard stood behind the counter, and he nearly dropped the glass he was polishing when he caught sight of his guests.
"Merlin's beard!" he exclaimed. "If that's not a face I thought I'd never see again!"
"Mr. O'Malley, good to be back!" Sirius replied jovially.
"Lad, it's 'Patrick', you ought to know that by now," the older man scolded, though his grin didn't fade. He set down the glass and his washrag, and the two men warmly shook hands.
"What brings you 'round these parts?" Patrick asked. "I'm betting I haven't seen you in fifteen years, my boy! And who's your companion?"
"Close enough to fifteen years, anyway," Sirius replied. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Do you remember my godson, Pat? My godson Harry?"
"Merlin's beard," Patrick said again. "You can't be Harry Potter? The last I saw you, you were but a babe in arms! But goodness, do you favor your father…" He studied Harry for a long moment, then said, "Look at me, forgetting my good manners. Name's Patrick O'Malley, Mr. Potter. Very pleased to meet you." Harry accepted the firm handshake, deciding immediately that he liked this man.
"Likewise, Mr. O'Malley," he replied. The older man laughed.
"Call me Patrick, lad – everyone does. Now, what brings you two to sleepy little Godric's Hollow on this fine summer morning?"
"We're hoping to talk to Bathilda Bagshot," Sirius explained. "Hoping she can help us with some Order business."
"Old Bathilda, eh?" Patrick said. "Well, I can definitely put in a word for you this afternoon if you like – been taking care of provisions and the like for her for years now that she can't walk too well."
"That would be perfect, thank you," Sirius replied.
"And I suppose you'll be visiting James?" Patrick inquired.
"Lily as well," Sirius said, his grin fading.
"Merlin, I hadn't heard that! When?"
"Not even a month ago – the day Harry came home for the summer holidays, actually. They got both Lily and Harry's friend's mum."
"I'm terribly sorry," Patrick said. "For both of you – Lily was a lovely girl."
"Patrick O'Malley, who're you dallyin' talkin' to when there's work to be done?" a woman's voice called, her prominent Irish accent reminding Harry of Seamus Finnigan.
"I think you'd take that back if you saw who I was talking to, my dear," Patrick responded, a twinkle in his eye. "Come see who decided to drop in!" The door behind the counter opened to reveal a plump woman with pretty features and kind eyes, her deep auburn hair twisted in a knot at the nape of her neck. She wore a crisp apron over her clothes and carried a broom in one hand.
"Sweet Mary, mother of God!" she exclaimed, dropping the broom as her hands flew to her chest in shock. "If it isn't young Sirius Black!"
"In the flesh," Sirius replied, bowing deeply. "Lovely to see you, Siobhan." The woman – Siobhan, Harry presumed – fanned herself with her hand for a moment.
"Nearly fifteen years it's been!" she scolded. "Were you not plannin' on comin' back, then? Just up and left without a word?" She bustled around the counter and enveloped Sirius in a hug. "Oh, just look at you," she said fondly, pulling back to study him with a smile. "'Tis wonderful to see you."
"Harry, this is Siobhan, Patrick's wife," Sirius said. "Siobhan, this is Harry Potter."
"Not James and Lily's baby?" she gasped. "All grown up!" Sirius caught Siobhan up to speed, and she frowned when he concluded his tale.
"Oh, you poor child," she said sympathetically as she pulled Harry into a hug this time. "Losin' your ma and da like that…o' course, I don't know much about it, but they were good people, your parents, very good people."
"Don't know much about what?" Harry asked, confused.
"Ah, I suppose I didn't tell you, did I?" Siobhan chuckled. "I'm just a Muggle, my boy – not a drop o' magic in me. Patrick here went to Hogwarts, but I certainly never did." Harry nodded in understanding.
The quartet spent another good hour or so chatting about this and that before sitting down to a lunch of hearty Irish stew at Siobhan's insistence. The dish was an old family recipe and was absolutely delicious, and Harry thanked the couple for their generous hospitality as he and Sirius were shown to their room, which was homey and comfortable.
"Anything for a longtime friend," Patrick replied, insisting for the hundredth time that it was no trouble. "Anything else you need, come find one of us – we'll be around." After yet another round of thanks, Harry and Sirius left the inn. They perused the other shops for close to twenty minutes before they finally made their way to the one place they both really wanted to go – the little stone church, and the graveyard beyond.
Compared to the activity in the town square, the graveyard was very quiet. There was only one other person present, a young woman who was on her knees in front of a nearby grave, her head bowed and her lips moving soundlessly. Respecting her privacy, Harry and Sirius skirted around and made for the other end of the graveyard, gazing at the different headstones as they went. Harry was surprised to see so many surnames he recognized – there were some belonging to his classmates at Hogwarts, and he stared for a long time at a grave marked 'Dumbledore'. The inscription informed him that 'Kendra Dumbledore, and her daughter Ariana' lay buried there, and Harry couldn't help but wonder who they were. They had to be related to his headmaster – the surname wasn't exactly a common one, was it? – yet Dumbledore had never once mentioned having a connection to Godric's Hollow. The dates on the tombstone showed they had both died over a hundred years ago – upon seeing this, Harry was inclined to think that Kendra had been Dumbledore's grandmother, but then he remembered that wizards could live significantly longer than Muggles even without the aid of spells or elixirs. Dumbledore himself had to be at least a century old, if not more – so perhaps Kendra and Ariana were an aunt and cousin?
"His mother and sister," Sirius said, coming up behind him and answering his unspoken question. Harry stared at the engraving.
"What happened?" he asked. Ariana Dumbledore had only been fourteen when she'd died…
"I don't know," Sirius said. "Nobody does, except for him and Aberforth – Dumbledore's brother, you know, he runs the Hog's Head. It's a wonder anyone even knows they had a sister – they never talk about her." Harry dropped the subject then, sensing that Sirius wasn't exaggerating how little he knew about it, and moved away to explore the other markers. He found a handful of other names he recognized, plus an ancient-looking tombstone with an odd symbol resembling a circle and a vertical line inside a triangle, before he stopped short in front of a white marble slab. Never mind whatever else he'd found, this was what he'd been searching for – his parents' grave.
The grave was simple, bearing only his parents' names and their dates of birth and death, but Harry didn't care that there wasn't anything fancy about it. What mattered far more was what the marker represented, the two people now sleeping peacefully beneath the grass under his feet. Harry sank to his knees and slowly ran his fingers over their names, tracing each groove with care.
"Hey, Mum," he said softly. "Dad. It's me, Harry." He sat down properly on the grass, crossing his legs under him. "You must think I'm a bit mad, talking to a headstone, but there you go. I…" He paused, sniffed, and chuckled. "This is harder than I thought – did anyone ever tell you how hard this is? Sitting here, talking to you like this?" He paused again. "I miss you, Mum – I miss you so much. And Dad…Dad, I hardly even knew you. What would it have been like, if things were different? Everyone always tells me I take after you in so many ways – Quidditch, and apparently you hated Apparition even more than I do – but how would things have been if I'd really known you? It's not the same, is it?" He paused again, a soft breeze the only answer to his questions.
"Padfoot's here with me – he took me to meet Patrick and Siobhan, at the Golden Lion. Really nice people. Patrick said he's going to talk to Bathilda Bagshot for us, which is really good of him. Hermione's off in America with Ginny and Tonks, and Draco's leaving for Malfoy Manor in a few days. He hasn't said so, but I think he's a bit nervous – but Lupin's going with him, so he should be alright." The breeze rippled through again.
"It isn't fair," Harry continued, his eyes beginning to water. "It isn't fair that I'm here, and you're not – there's still so many things we needed to do, Mum. I haven't gotten my O.W.L. marks yet. I haven't learned how to Apparate, or finished school, or gotten married. I haven't defeated Voldemort yet – and I will, Mum, I really will. I don't know how, it seems impossible and I'm really scared and I don't even know where to start, but I will, if only so that you didn't sacrifice yourself for nothing, because I can't have let that happen, I just can't." The tears began to fall freely now, and Harry unsuccessfully tried to wipe them away. He could sense that Sirius was somewhere nearby but keeping his distance, allowing Harry to have some time alone before paying his own respects.
"I love you," he said. "I love you both so, so much." He dropped his head on his knees and let himself cry, the breeze ruffling the grass all around him. As his tears slowed and finally ceased, Harry noticed that the breeze felt just a little bit like a caress, and he smiled to himself at the thought that maybe he wasn't so alone after all.
A/N: And the adventures continue - welcome to Godric's Hollow! Writing the graveyard scene was tough...but I think we're done with the sad stuff for a while now, so that's good. Up next: Malfoy Manor.
Thank you as always for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading! We're getting closer to the reveal of some of the wearers of the rings (we'll learn who 2 of them are in this story, & the other 2 in part 7, if the current plan works out), so send me your guesses! Comments about any other aspect of the story are welcome too, of course.
JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)