Chapter 14 - Godric's Hollow
Harry sprinted back up the drive to the others, the pieces of parchment and the key clutched tightly in his hands.
"You were right Hermione," he said breathlessly. "The Fidelius charm is still in place, quick, read this." He passed over the parchment and watched them reading before they each looked up and gasped.
"Blimey!" was all Ron seemed to manage.
"Harry... it's beautiful!" said Ginny in awe. Harry watched as her smile broadened. "Let's go have a look!"
The four of them strode down the drive, (Ron and Hermione arm in arm again), and Harry drew out the key as they stood in front of the door. With a shaking hand, he placed the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door.
The hallway stood before them. Harry thought it looked just as a family house should do, with pictures on top of cabinets of his parents and him as a baby, a living room just off to one side with yet more pictures on the mantelpiece, and stairs leading up to three bedrooms and a bathroom. In the hallway, Harry found a note from Dumbledore and Remus.
"In each room of the house we have left you a note about the room. Save your bedroom for last."
Harry frowned as he passed the note to Hermione, and was about to go up the stairs and look in his room, but Hermione stopped him.
"Dumbledore usually has a good reason for his actions," she said in careful tones, "so trust him on this one."
Harry nodded, and walked towards the living room. On the door was a note marked, "Living room" which Harry opened and read:
"Your parents used this room when they had guests around in the evening. I personally remember one night where, as a baby of just a few weeks, you picked up your father's wand and destroyed half the mantelpiece. Sirius didn't stop laughing about that for weeks."
Harry stepped into the room, smiling now, and looked around. There was a long sofa along one side of the room, opposite a fireplace. Above the fireplace was a restored mantelpiece, with a clock and a picture of his mum on it. Harry felt tears springing to his mind, and he took the picture and sat down in an armchair by the front window.
She was stood outside the front door of the house, her hair draped neatly down her back, and she smiled and waved at Harry as he looked into the photo. Her startlingly green eyes met Harry's and, for the first time in his life, Harry truly understood what people meant about him having his mum's eyes. Looking into the window he looked at his own reflection, just about visible, and saw his mum's eyes, his own eyes, staring back at him. He got to his feet, vaguely aware of the other three watching him, cautious not to say anything.
He walked out of a second door and found himself in a kitchen. It looked exactly like Aunt Petunia's kitchen at home, although Harry was sure that his mum wouldn't have kicked him out if he'd ever been in there. There were large, neat cabinets arrayed tightly around the room, and a small unit in the middle of the room that was obviously used for preparing food. The note he found on there was short and simple.
"Your mother used to make the best casserole I ever tasted. I believe the recipe is in a book on the shelf by the window."
Harry walked towards the shelf, but the window caught his eye. Peering out, he gasped.
Sweeping away from the house a long, tidy lawn stretched itself out. A table and chairs sat outside on a small patio, and at the far end of the garden a row of trees guarded what Harry supposed must be the back fence. The flowerbeds however, were empty, and Harry spied a note on the table outside, held down by Spellotape.
"The garden is yours to decorate. I'm sure Hermione and Ginny would love to help you with the flowers, though Ron may be disappointed at the lack of space for a Quidditch pitch. Your father certainly was."
Harry coughed slightly, but now there was a smile on his face, and he held out the note to Ron who, after reading and then briefly inspecting Harry's reaction again, smiled too.
"I'm sure we could figure something out," Ron said, grinning broadly.
Harry nodded. "Come on, let's go back inside." In truth, he was dying to see what was upstairs, and was almost mildly relieved at the lack of other rooms downstairs, save for a private study which his father had used occasionally.
He strode quickly up the stairs, and it took all his strength not to walk straight into the first room on the right, his bedroom. Instead he turned on the landing and walked to the far end, to find his parent's bedroom.
In the middle stood a grand four poster bed, with two little cupboards on either side, that served the dual purpose of bedside tables. An ornate looking lamp stood on top of each and Harry noticed, with a small smile, a miniature Gryffindor lion roaring around the bottom of the shade. Ron pointed out, with a small grin, that this room did not have a note in it, but his grin quickly turned to surprise as Hermione started berating him for being so disgusting and insensitive.
Harry started laughing slightly, not quite sure he had understood Ron right (certainly hoping he was wrong), before leaving the bedroom. There were only two rooms left, and after a quick look around a large bathroom (which had one big and one small, baby-sized bath), Harry found himself standing outside the final room. He took a breath, remembering Dumbledore's words for a moment.
"Go on," said Ginny quietly, "we'll wait out here for you." At a nod from Ron, Harry opened the door and stepped into a large room, closing the door behind him. There was a bed over in the far corner of the room, and a wardrobe off to one side. Harry was beginning to wonder what Dumbledore had been saving this room especially for...
"Harry?" Harry leapt around in shock, the voice had come from behind him and it sounded strangely familiar. His eyes widened in shock and he sank to his knees, his heart beating a tattoo in his chest, one hand on the floor to keep himself from fainting.
On the wall next to the door and directly opposite one end of the bed, a portrait hung, its two occupants smiling tearfully at him. The man was tall with untidy black hair, his arms around a woman whose green eyes shimmered with tears as they looked down at him.
"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"
"Hello son," his father said in a voice strained with emotion. There was silence for a moment, and Harry didn't know what to say, his mind was a frenzy of thoughts, questions, and his heart buzzing with emotions he hadn't ever felt so deep. Harry's mum broke the silence.
"Albus and Remus said you would be here at Christmas..." trying to keep an even voice, "why are you here early?"
Harry's face broke into one of the biggest smiles it had ever done, upon realising his mother was softly chiding him. He felt a desperate longing to hug her, but his elation upon just being able to talk to them far outweighed any sorrow he felt. "I'll show you." He said quickly. He gently got to his feet, not quite sure whether to trust his legs fully, and edged towards the door, not taking his eyes off the portrait of his parents. He opened the door and met Ron, Hermione and Ginny's inquisitive gazes.
"Who were you talking to?" said Ron, "and why are you so happy?" Harry couldn't say anything, and merely beckoned them into the room.
"Are these your friends Harry?" James asked. Hermione and Ginny whipped around, they had not noticed the portrait, and let out soft screams of delight. Ron, who had already spotted the portrait, was looking from the portrait to the smile on Harry's face and was starting to smile himself.
"Mum, Dad," Harry started in a shaking voice, "this is Ron Weasley, my best friend since first year, his wonderful sister Ginny, and Hermione Granger, by far the cleverest girl in our year." Each of Harry's friends blushed at Harry's announcement of them, but James was frowning slightly.
"Weasley?" he said slowly, "are you Arthur and Molly's children?" Ron exchanged a glance with Harry and nodded. "We knew them through the Order," James went on, "lovely people they were. Speaking of the Order, Remus didn't say where Sirius was, do you know?"
Hermione ushered the others out of the room, closing the door behind her, as Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, and started to explain all that had happened.
*
Although it was late, Harry spent over an hour talking to his parents about his life so far. James was very sad to hear about Sirius, but his sadness turned to puzzlement at Voldemort's lack of actions. Harry assured them he would ask Dumbledore. Harry's parents knew about the prophecy, and they said that he would be ready when the time came.
They also explained about how the portrait had come to be, using a special paint mixture called Emberic paint that worked in a similar way to the Polyjuice potion.
"Harry," his mum said quietly, "I know you would stay here forever, but you should get back to the school. We will see you again very soon." Harry nodded and started to get to his feet. "But before you go, there is something that may interest you. In the garden there is a door which we built when you were a baby. It should still be there. It is a private space for you."
Harry forced back a tear at this parental love that he had never felt before. He didn't know how to express it, he just looked at them happy, for once, that he was Harry Potter, son of Lily and James Potter. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.
"I know son," James said gruffly. "We love you too, always. Now head back to Hogwarts, we will see you soon." With a tear in his eye, Harry walked quickly out the room. He would never forget that moment upon entering his room and was quite sure that he now had a different memory to concentrate on for forming the world's brightest Patronus.
Harry sprinted back up the drive to the others, the pieces of parchment and the key clutched tightly in his hands.
"You were right Hermione," he said breathlessly. "The Fidelius charm is still in place, quick, read this." He passed over the parchment and watched them reading before they each looked up and gasped.
"Blimey!" was all Ron seemed to manage.
"Harry... it's beautiful!" said Ginny in awe. Harry watched as her smile broadened. "Let's go have a look!"
The four of them strode down the drive, (Ron and Hermione arm in arm again), and Harry drew out the key as they stood in front of the door. With a shaking hand, he placed the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door.
The hallway stood before them. Harry thought it looked just as a family house should do, with pictures on top of cabinets of his parents and him as a baby, a living room just off to one side with yet more pictures on the mantelpiece, and stairs leading up to three bedrooms and a bathroom. In the hallway, Harry found a note from Dumbledore and Remus.
"In each room of the house we have left you a note about the room. Save your bedroom for last."
Harry frowned as he passed the note to Hermione, and was about to go up the stairs and look in his room, but Hermione stopped him.
"Dumbledore usually has a good reason for his actions," she said in careful tones, "so trust him on this one."
Harry nodded, and walked towards the living room. On the door was a note marked, "Living room" which Harry opened and read:
"Your parents used this room when they had guests around in the evening. I personally remember one night where, as a baby of just a few weeks, you picked up your father's wand and destroyed half the mantelpiece. Sirius didn't stop laughing about that for weeks."
Harry stepped into the room, smiling now, and looked around. There was a long sofa along one side of the room, opposite a fireplace. Above the fireplace was a restored mantelpiece, with a clock and a picture of his mum on it. Harry felt tears springing to his mind, and he took the picture and sat down in an armchair by the front window.
She was stood outside the front door of the house, her hair draped neatly down her back, and she smiled and waved at Harry as he looked into the photo. Her startlingly green eyes met Harry's and, for the first time in his life, Harry truly understood what people meant about him having his mum's eyes. Looking into the window he looked at his own reflection, just about visible, and saw his mum's eyes, his own eyes, staring back at him. He got to his feet, vaguely aware of the other three watching him, cautious not to say anything.
He walked out of a second door and found himself in a kitchen. It looked exactly like Aunt Petunia's kitchen at home, although Harry was sure that his mum wouldn't have kicked him out if he'd ever been in there. There were large, neat cabinets arrayed tightly around the room, and a small unit in the middle of the room that was obviously used for preparing food. The note he found on there was short and simple.
"Your mother used to make the best casserole I ever tasted. I believe the recipe is in a book on the shelf by the window."
Harry walked towards the shelf, but the window caught his eye. Peering out, he gasped.
Sweeping away from the house a long, tidy lawn stretched itself out. A table and chairs sat outside on a small patio, and at the far end of the garden a row of trees guarded what Harry supposed must be the back fence. The flowerbeds however, were empty, and Harry spied a note on the table outside, held down by Spellotape.
"The garden is yours to decorate. I'm sure Hermione and Ginny would love to help you with the flowers, though Ron may be disappointed at the lack of space for a Quidditch pitch. Your father certainly was."
Harry coughed slightly, but now there was a smile on his face, and he held out the note to Ron who, after reading and then briefly inspecting Harry's reaction again, smiled too.
"I'm sure we could figure something out," Ron said, grinning broadly.
Harry nodded. "Come on, let's go back inside." In truth, he was dying to see what was upstairs, and was almost mildly relieved at the lack of other rooms downstairs, save for a private study which his father had used occasionally.
He strode quickly up the stairs, and it took all his strength not to walk straight into the first room on the right, his bedroom. Instead he turned on the landing and walked to the far end, to find his parent's bedroom.
In the middle stood a grand four poster bed, with two little cupboards on either side, that served the dual purpose of bedside tables. An ornate looking lamp stood on top of each and Harry noticed, with a small smile, a miniature Gryffindor lion roaring around the bottom of the shade. Ron pointed out, with a small grin, that this room did not have a note in it, but his grin quickly turned to surprise as Hermione started berating him for being so disgusting and insensitive.
Harry started laughing slightly, not quite sure he had understood Ron right (certainly hoping he was wrong), before leaving the bedroom. There were only two rooms left, and after a quick look around a large bathroom (which had one big and one small, baby-sized bath), Harry found himself standing outside the final room. He took a breath, remembering Dumbledore's words for a moment.
"Go on," said Ginny quietly, "we'll wait out here for you." At a nod from Ron, Harry opened the door and stepped into a large room, closing the door behind him. There was a bed over in the far corner of the room, and a wardrobe off to one side. Harry was beginning to wonder what Dumbledore had been saving this room especially for...
"Harry?" Harry leapt around in shock, the voice had come from behind him and it sounded strangely familiar. His eyes widened in shock and he sank to his knees, his heart beating a tattoo in his chest, one hand on the floor to keep himself from fainting.
On the wall next to the door and directly opposite one end of the bed, a portrait hung, its two occupants smiling tearfully at him. The man was tall with untidy black hair, his arms around a woman whose green eyes shimmered with tears as they looked down at him.
"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"
"Hello son," his father said in a voice strained with emotion. There was silence for a moment, and Harry didn't know what to say, his mind was a frenzy of thoughts, questions, and his heart buzzing with emotions he hadn't ever felt so deep. Harry's mum broke the silence.
"Albus and Remus said you would be here at Christmas..." trying to keep an even voice, "why are you here early?"
Harry's face broke into one of the biggest smiles it had ever done, upon realising his mother was softly chiding him. He felt a desperate longing to hug her, but his elation upon just being able to talk to them far outweighed any sorrow he felt. "I'll show you." He said quickly. He gently got to his feet, not quite sure whether to trust his legs fully, and edged towards the door, not taking his eyes off the portrait of his parents. He opened the door and met Ron, Hermione and Ginny's inquisitive gazes.
"Who were you talking to?" said Ron, "and why are you so happy?" Harry couldn't say anything, and merely beckoned them into the room.
"Are these your friends Harry?" James asked. Hermione and Ginny whipped around, they had not noticed the portrait, and let out soft screams of delight. Ron, who had already spotted the portrait, was looking from the portrait to the smile on Harry's face and was starting to smile himself.
"Mum, Dad," Harry started in a shaking voice, "this is Ron Weasley, my best friend since first year, his wonderful sister Ginny, and Hermione Granger, by far the cleverest girl in our year." Each of Harry's friends blushed at Harry's announcement of them, but James was frowning slightly.
"Weasley?" he said slowly, "are you Arthur and Molly's children?" Ron exchanged a glance with Harry and nodded. "We knew them through the Order," James went on, "lovely people they were. Speaking of the Order, Remus didn't say where Sirius was, do you know?"
Hermione ushered the others out of the room, closing the door behind her, as Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, and started to explain all that had happened.
*
Although it was late, Harry spent over an hour talking to his parents about his life so far. James was very sad to hear about Sirius, but his sadness turned to puzzlement at Voldemort's lack of actions. Harry assured them he would ask Dumbledore. Harry's parents knew about the prophecy, and they said that he would be ready when the time came.
They also explained about how the portrait had come to be, using a special paint mixture called Emberic paint that worked in a similar way to the Polyjuice potion.
"Harry," his mum said quietly, "I know you would stay here forever, but you should get back to the school. We will see you again very soon." Harry nodded and started to get to his feet. "But before you go, there is something that may interest you. In the garden there is a door which we built when you were a baby. It should still be there. It is a private space for you."
Harry forced back a tear at this parental love that he had never felt before. He didn't know how to express it, he just looked at them happy, for once, that he was Harry Potter, son of Lily and James Potter. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.
"I know son," James said gruffly. "We love you too, always. Now head back to Hogwarts, we will see you soon." With a tear in his eye, Harry walked quickly out the room. He would never forget that moment upon entering his room and was quite sure that he now had a different memory to concentrate on for forming the world's brightest Patronus.
