Footprints in the Snow (Part 1): HARRY

I was sitting in a chair, face schooled into nonchalance, with a stomach lurching from queasy curiosity. I watched as her body twisted and warped until she was doubled over, clutching her belly and groaning softly. Her skin bubbled and her bones shortened, and, with a burst, her hair changed colour to a dirty blonde. I could hear the noise of her joints as they rearranged themselves under her skin, and I cringed with each sharp pop. Her hands were clenched into tight little fists and I could just make out how white her knuckles were. I almost reached out to her, to see if she was okay, but she quickly straightened up and I was met with eyes of glacier blue. She tucked her short hair behind her ears and grinned.

"How do I look?" she asked. I gave her a once over and noted the sprinkling of freckles on her knobby nose. She was stubby and awkward-looking all around. There was absolutely nothing Hermione Granger about her. Nothing at all.

"Like a stranger."

"Perfect. Drink up," she said, scooping a ladle full of green muck so thick that the viscous mixture landed at the bottom of the cup with a disgusting plop. What I wouldn't give for some tea instead.

When she tried handing it to me, I frowned and shook my head. Her brows rose and she stared at me pointedly until I relented. It had to be done.

It felt warm in my hands and was still bubbling a bit at the surface. I fished in my pockets for the strands of hair I collected two days ago from a bloke who wouldn't miss them. Hermione went somewhere behind me and gathered things we planned on bringing along.

'Always the organizer, isn't she?', I thought, as she collected everything and anything into her bottomless beaded bag. 'What would I do without her trying to stuff the entire tent in there, every damn ti –'

"We don't have all day."

I sat up straighter at the sound of the foreign voice, hand on my wand and a curse on the tip of my tongue. A moment later, I relaxed. I had already forgotten she was polyjuiced.

"Quit rushing me, will you?" I tucked the wand away and frowned at the potion once more before dropping a hair in. It changed colour to a swirling neon yellow.

I shook the concoction uneasily, remembering the last time I drank it and the unpleasant feeling that accompanied the equally unpleasant taste. I shuddered at the thought, but tipped my head back anyway. It was gone in one swig. I went for the 'pulling off a bandage approach' and, of course, regretted it almost immediately. Tasting vile but almost weightless, it burned like a bitch going down and even worse coming back up. By the time I finished gagging, I was half me and half someone else. Some kind of abnormal hybrid of a Harry. I don't recall getting to my feet but I stayed steady with a firm grip on the creaky chair. Moments later I was farther from the ground, middle-aged, and utterly mundane.

With my clothes spelled to fit my broader shoulders, I pocketed my now useless glasses before attempting to walk over to the mirror.

"Bollocks!" My toe connected with a wooden desk, sending pain shooting up my foot and our old radio crashing down towards Earth at an alarming rate.

Before my eyes, the object slowed, and floated just a foot above the ground, like magic.

"Balance, Harry. Can't have you falling over in the street," she said, whilst levitating the radio back on its perch.

"Of course not, Mum," I said, which earned me a playful swat on my arm. My face fell as soon as the words left my mouth. I was trying to keep it light, but perhaps that day wasn't the best day for mum jokes. The sting of the swat lingered.

She tugged a knit hat firmly on my balding head whilst I regarded our reflections in the mirror. We looked average standing next to each other. Normal. Ordinary. Easy to miss in a crowd.

"If anyone sees through the concealment charms on the way there, we're Mr. and Mrs. Barton, got it?" Her voice sounded like it was terribly out of tune, and I had no idea what she was worrying about anyhow. She passed Charms with an O, which makes my hard-fought A pale in comparison. I watched her bottle up leftover potion and leave the tent but I hardly noticed I was just standing about like a lump until she peeked her head back inside and asked, "Ready to go?"

I nodded, because my throat suddenly felt tight. I walked over to the spot and held up the Invisibility Cloak. She ducked under it and adjusted the folds so that they covered every inch of us. When I took her hand, her fingers were warm in mine. I blinked and just like that, we were gone.

—

Somehow I didn't land on my face the moment we got there. It was a good start. I felt snow shifting under my boots and wind biting harshly into my cheeks even through the Cloak. I knew we had arrived but some little part of me didn't want to believe it. I wanted to prolong this moment, though I was waiting for it my whole life. I wanted to keep my eyes closed; forever stuck with the queasy curiosity that played on the strings of my nerves all day.

"Harry?" She shook my arm insistently. Forever was never quite long enough, was is?

I opened my eyes. The late afternoon sky was violet with tiny twinkles of the night's first stars. Way out in front of us was a narrow road lined with rows and rows of large estates and evergreens. The path was dotted with a golden streetlight here and there but it was the glow of dazzling bulbs that caught my eye. Even from this far away, I could tell there were colours ranging from blues to reds to yellows and everything in between. Like a moth to a flame, I began walking. Hermione fell into step beside me.

We trudged through the snow in silence, my stomach flip-flopping with each stride. And as much as I tried to appear collected, I couldn't suppress my nervous twitching or the anxious look on my face any longer. This was it. I was going home.

It must have been maybe twenty minutes of slipping in the snow before we came near the luminescent glow of the village.

Hermione pulled close to me and whispered something.

"Hmm?"

She gripped my fingers tighter.

"I said we're leaving tracks!"

I looked behind us to find a trail of bootprints packed into the snow. A set of delicately small ones being followed by larger, bulkier ones. Snowflakes were falling steadily around us in thick sheets.

"You can barely see 'em." And it was true. Snow was already covering them up.

"Are you sure?" Her eyes dipped to the ground behind us again and I paused to turn her head to face me.

"Freaking out is not part of the plan," I said. She should know, she made it.

We were close, as close as two people could be without touching too much. I felt the inane urge to kiss her and show her that everything would indeed be all right, even though I should be the one that needed comforting and reassurance. I leaned in but stopped with our lips close, but not quite there. The look in her blue eyes was equivalent to a bucket of cold water being dumped over my head.

She, for all intents and purposes, was not Hermione Granger at the moment. And I wasn't myself either. It would be wrong to kiss her then, just plain wrong. So I'd wait until we got back to the tent and back in our own bodies. Then we could talk about me getting into her.

Turning away from those sharp eyes, I gazed out in front of us.

'Welcome to Godric's Hollow

Population: 1,083'

The sign's size was modest, but it was plated in what looked like gold and hanging from intricate filigree. The letters were written in some kind of whirling black font and I could hear the ache of metal as it swung in the winter wind. A long looping path loomed in front of us, dotted with cottages and branching off into side streets and boulevards. The snow fell gently in measured amounts now that we were in city limits.

Hermione gasped. I was already reaching for my wand but the look in her eyes was enough to chase away the panic. It wasn't one of fear. In fact was more like delight than anything else.

"Oi, Harry! Look!" Hermione whispered. Realization hit me the moment before she announced it. "I think it's Christmas Eve!"

By the décor of the place, she seemed just about right. Thoughts came rushing at me, fuzzing out the edges of my vision. I silently indulged them, never once breaking my stride.

At Hogwarts, I'd probably be drinking eggnog with Hagrid and speculating on what I'd get in the morning. Or maybe I'd even be at the Weasley's if things weren't so mucked up with Ron, eating some lavish dinner and surrounded by the loving faces I've known for years. Assuming I was still welcomed in there, pretty soon I'd be curled up in Ron's room and we'd be giddy with excitement like we were little kids again. Pranks and stories and laughs and an extra big helping of treacle tart… Hermione and I should be indoors, relaxing or something. Definitely not out stalking my dead parents on Christmas Eve.

I heard a sniffle that brought me back to my actual present. She was blinking rapidly. Her face was tight, eyes glassy and misty at the corners. Despite her use of borrowed expressions, it really wasn't too hard to tell that she was off in her own place of nostalgic torture.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled the Invisibility Cloak off, figuring we were weighed down enough by our own problems to be tiptoeing around under a thing that stopped comfortably fitting two people years ago. Hermione squeaked as she was dragged out of her thoughts. She looked at me, eyes wide with question.

"What's the matter, Emilie darling?" I asked. She looked like she was about to make a remark about the name I just gave her but thought better of it.

"Nothing, Hubert dear. Just thought we'd keep it on, that's all." She said.

Hubert? I couldn't stop myself from laughing as I stuffed the Cloak under my overcoat.

"No need for it tonight, honey. It's lovely out."

She made no further comments on our lack of invisibility or abundant use of pet names but I could see her smiling in my peripheral.

We strolled down the street towards the centre of the village. Cottages were alive with multicoloured lights and various holiday paraphernalia. A wreath hung from most doors and I could see a few kids packing snow into rather elaborate, moving snowmen. Smoke billowed from every chimney and I could hear the faint sounds of How the Hippogriff Stole Christmas streaming out from a nearby opened window. Everything was covered in deep shade of indigo, making it seem like the lights were glowing that much brighter.

So this was it, eh? Home. The word sounded nicer when I thought of it earlier. I now realized that I felt no indisputable sense of déjà vu or belonging. Nothing seemed familiar, and nothing particularly stood out. These were my streets, my town, my people, and yet they were hardly ever mine to begin with. I didn't know what I was expecting when I came but I didn't expect to feel nothing. I wondered what my life would've been like had I grown up in the Hollow. Maybe I'd be normal, whatever that was. And maybe I'd have brothers and sisters and somewhere of my own to call home for holidays. I'd have a nice room and good things and the parents I never got the chance to know... All the memories I didn't get to make and all the things I didn't get to do were swimming in my vision. Home. I was back in the place that was robbed from me before I even knew such a thing could be taken. Hopes and dreams, stolen by a maniac in the night. This was it. Where it all started. Or should I say, ended. I should at least be happy, yeah?

I felt a squeeze on my fingers and looked to see Hermione smiling reassuringly. Any signs of her breaking down were gone. She was being strong, for me. I was about to smile back but she grimaced and looked behind us.

"Do you think I should cast another layer of glamour?" she asked, glancing warily at a group of carolers on the corner of a road.

"I'm sure their figgy pudding is not that daunting," I said. She didn't seem to catch my sarcasm, so I went on. "We're polyjuiced –" Hermione glared at me sharply and I lowered my voice. "And already up to our necks in Disillusionment Charms. How much safer can we be?"

'And why are you so nervous in the first place? Are your parents buried around here too?'

I didn't actually say the last bit but she caught my drift. Hermione kept her worries to herself from then on.

In between the cottages were houses that were definitely not of the norm. I saw one in the shape of a flower pot and another sitting on tall stilts that were wavering precariously. Some looked like 18th-century inspired masterpieces but others were just plain ridiculous. Giant cars and pumpkins with vines bursting at the base were only a few of the kooky contraptions that caught my eye. It looked like some fairy tale book puked and no one got around to cleaning up the mess. Were the muggles seeing all this? Hopefully not.

I was regarding a house that looked particularly strange, covered in feathers and making small clucking noises. I knew what magic was but wasn't that going a little too far? The thing was breathing for Merlin's sake. I was about to make a comment on the absurdity of it all but when I turned to Hermione, she wasn't there.

I whirled around in a complete circle, expecting to catch a glimpse of her at some point. My head started spinning, as I was unable to comprehend why she wasn't standing next to me like she ought to be.

I couldn't find her footprints amongst those that already covered the cobblestone sidewalk. My mouth hung open in shock. A second ago I could've swore she was right. There. "Her – Emilie!"

I was running, feet pounding on the pavement as I frantically retraced our steps. The winter air burned my lungs. I could barely think over the panic in my skull. How the hell could she just disappear like that?

Shit. Shit. Shit.