Chapter 17
The next few weeks were…difficult, to say the least. Although Ron hadn't been himself from the moment they had fled Grimmauld Place, he had always been the one in the past that had lifted Hermione's and Harry's spirits whenever they were feeling down. It was a new adjustment for them to try to be everything for one another, now. Living without Ron was kind of like missing a limb.
Still, they made it work, and as Harry and Hermione had always been like brother and sister, they really didn't have many issues working together to make their life on the run efficient, even if it was a little dreary without Ron's lightheartedness and humor.
Finally, after weeks of thought and internal debate, and despite her earlier certainty that it would be an unwise course of action, Hermione had announced that she thought they should go to Godric's Hollow, after all.
"I just think," she said in response to the look of utter surprise that had crossed Harry's face, "that you might just be right about Professor Dumbledore possibly leaving something important there for you. I think we have to go there; we have to be sure. But we need to be smart about it!"
She could see the look of elation that Harry was trying so hard, and failing, to hide, and she could feel the very Draco-esque smirk that spread across her face in response.
"You know, 'Mi, it's a bit scary that your facial expressions are even starting to look like his," Harry said wryly, clearly noticing the smirk as well. Hermione chuckled; her heart feeling somewhat lighter for the first time in what felt like months.
They planned for most of the evening, Hermione unwilling to leave a single detail to chance. It was decided that they would head out the next day, arriving in Godric's Hollow after dark and when their appearance would hopefully go unnoticed.
The next evening, after packing up camp and going over the plan a few more times until Harry's exasperation was clear to hear in his voice, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and Apparated them to the outskirts of the small village of Godric's Hollow. There was a thick blanket of mostly untouched snow on the ground beneath their feet, the streets undisturbed due to the lateness of the hour and the coldness of the night.
Hermione heard faint strains of piano music and singing coming from the small, snow-covered church to her left, situated right in front of the ancient village's graveyard. Listening more closely to the music, she was able to pick out the tune.
"Harry. I think…I think it's Christmas Eve."
When he didn't answer, she looked up to find him standing at the gates of the graveyard and staring inside forlornly. She made her way over to his side.
"Do you think they're buried in there?" he asked, still looking into the dark, empty space filled with tombstones. "My parents?" he clarified, finally turning to look at her.
Hermione sighed deeply.
"Yeah, Harry. I think they probably are."
She reached out a glove-covered hand and pushed open the wrought-iron gates with a quiet squeak, then she and Harry made their way through the entrance and into the small world of stone and earth. They walked slowly through the snow-covered grounds, eventually separating from one another and stopping here and there to brush an accumulation of snow away from a tombstone to read the names carved upon them.
Hermione's attention was suddenly captured by one particular tombstone. It looked to be incredibly old, but the name and dates were still perfectly legible, and she knew that it had been preserved and maintained through magic. The name upon the stone read 'Ignotus Peverell,' which she had never heard before, but that wasn't what had drawn her eye. Etched on the tombstone, right above the name, was a symbol: the same symbol, in fact, that had been drawn in her copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
Just as she was about to call Harry over to look at it, she noticed him stopped in front of a pair of tombstones. Mysterious symbol forgotten, she made her way over to him and read the names 'Lily Potter' and 'James Potter' engraved on the pristine white stones. Her heart weeping for her best friend, she looped her arm through his and rested her head against his shoulder. She felt his head drop down to rest against her own and she heard him sniff softly, mourning truly for the first time the loss of his parents.
They stood there in the cold, quiet night for several minutes, snowflakes drifting down gently around them and settling on their immobile bodies, until Hermione finally pulled away. Looking around to ensure that no one was around, she pulled her wand from her jacket pocket. With a twist of her wrist in a slow, circular motion, a wreath of winter roses appeared in the air in front of her. She handed them to Harry who took the wreath while wiping away the tears from his eyes with his other hand.
"Thanks, 'Mi," he said, voice thick with tears as he leaned down and placed the wreath on the snowy ground between the two granite headstones. Stepping back, he threw one arm across her shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.
"Merry Christmas, Harry."
He squeezed her back before turning away from the stark reminder of what had occurred in this very village sixteen years ago. As they made their way back to the gates of the graveyard, Harry spoke again.
"I want to see it, 'Mi."
Battling with herself she decided that, with the street as empty as it was, it seemed a tame enough risk to take. Besides, if Dumbledore had left anything for Harry here, it would likely be in the house in which his parents had lived and died.
"Okay, Harry. Let's go."
They made their way slowly down the street, Hermione on alert for anything that seemed out of place. Because of this, she noticed the cottage that sat in ruins on the side of the street several moments before Harry did. As they stopped to stare at the destroyed cottage with its commemorative sign that had been graffitied by the countless witches and wizards that had come to visit the place where the Dark Lord had fallen and the Potter family had been torn apart, she also noticed the elderly woman who stood slightly down the dark street, watching the two of them silently.
"Harry," she said softly, nudging his shoulder and motioning discreetly in the direction of the woman.
"I think I know who that is," Harry said hesitantly, surprising her as he walked over to where the woman stood and leaving Hermione to follow along behind him reluctantly.
"Are you… Bathilda Bagshot?"
The woman did not speak, merely nodded in confirmation before turning away to totter down the street. The three of them entered a house that reeked of neglect and Hermione wrinkled her nose at the peculiar, musty smell that permeated the home. She was distracted by a book that sat on the table and stopped to glance at the cover.
The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. By Rita Skeeter.
She looked up to see that Bathilda and Harry had disappeared up the stairs and she quickly tucked the book into the beaded bag that hung securely from her wrist. Judging by the pristine condition of the spine and the thin layer of dust on the cover, the book had never even been opened, so her guilt over taking it was minimal.
Making her way toward the stairs, she was distracted once again by a smell even more unpleasant than the one she had noticed upon entering the home. It seemed to be coming from the small closet that was adjacent to the stairs. Unable to resist the pull of her insatiable curiosity, she walked over to the closet and pulled the door open and what she saw inside made her gasp in horror.
The body of Bathilda Bagshot was crammed into the small space, and copious amounts of dried blood coated the walls and floor of the tiny room. From the smell that was coming from the area, Hermione guessed that the woman had been dead for weeks now, if not longer. Immediately the nagging feeling of disquiet swelled to enormous proportions, crashing down on her in a wave of fear and panic.
"Harry!" she screamed at the exact moment that she heard a loud crash come from upstairs.
Sprinting up the stairs, wand already in hand, she arrived at the upper floor of the house to find Harry cornered by the huge snake that Lord Voldemort kept with him. Her first thought was immediately about Harry's safety. As soon as she saw that he was unharmed, at least for the moment, the realization struck her hard that one of the Horcruxes was right in front of her. They could kill the snake!
But they didn't have any way to destroy the Horcruxes yet. In her frustration at the reality of their situation and the danger in which they had recklessly found themselves, she lashed out at the snake with a nonverbal stunning spell. It didn't stun the great serpent, but it did knock it over the barrier, allowing Hermione to get to Harry's side, picking up on her way to him the wand on the ground that had been knocked from his hand by the snake.
Just as she prepared to Apparate them away, however, the snake reappeared at the top of the stairs once again. It lunged toward them, fangs bared, and Hermione lashed out with one final hex before twisting herself and Harry into the tight squeeze of Apparition. As the house faded from her vision, however, she heard a loud crunch and felt a sinking fear that they had not made a fully clean escape, after all.
Hermione sat huddled close to the small fire, seeking every bit of warmth that she could get in the freezing cold night air. The Forest of Dean was breathtaking, and her memories of coming here with her parents on a camping trip one summer had always stuck in her mind in part due to its beauty. That was why she had thought to bring them here when fleeing Godric's Hollow earlier that night. Unfortunately, it was currently the middle of winter and the thick blanket of snow on the ground and the brisk wind that whipped through the trees did not lead to a comfortable living experience at the present moment.
She had convinced Harry to go to bed upon their arrival, once they had set up the tent and the protective enchantments, and surprisingly he had agreed. She had been immensely grateful for that. She was currently leafing through The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore and trying to glean as many facts as she could from amongst the trash that Rita Skeeter had included.
She had already sent Draco a message to let him know what had happened. She knew that You-Know-Who would likely let his followers know that Harry had been spotted in Godric's Hollow, and she wanted to assure her wizard that she and Harry were both safe. She knew that if the tables were turned, she would be frantic until she knew he was okay.
There was another reason she was grateful for the time alone, though. It gave her some much-needed time to think – and to panic a bit.
The fear of how Harry would react upon waking and realizing that his wand had been snapped was utmost in her mind.
Song Inspiration: Hallelujah – Tori Kelly
Okay, so a quick update regarding the posting of chapters for this fic: I have officially reached the end of what I had already written...I have a very thorough outline for this story so I know exactly where it is going and how it will get there chapter by chapter. But I did want to announce that chapters will definitely not be coming out as quickly from here on out as they have been so far.
I'm hoping to get a good bit of it written and posted before I go out of town next week, but there will be a span of at least 1.5-2 weeks where I most likely won't be able to post at all, so I'm going to work as hard as I can to get as much out as possible!
Thank you all for the amazing reviews you've left so far! It makes me so excited to sit down and write knowing that you are all enjoying it so much!
sbz