[A/N: Thank you to Calamity Owl for beta-reading this chapter! The introduction of a character in this chapter is inspired by the excellent fic "Under the Stars" by Aeyliana, but the character overall goes in a different direction. Also, I'd like to warn everyone that I'm going to be out for a month after next week. Chapter 22 is one of my favorites in the entire story and it doesn't end on a cliffhanger, so I think it's a good place to pause the story while I'm out. Chapter 23 would not be a good place.

Update 6 May 2023: Azentra pointed out that one of Dobby's comments could be read to imply something that I didn't intend at this point in the story, so I modified it to remove the implication and keep it in-line with what I meant for him to say.]


The warm yellow light from the bulbs within St. Jerome's Church filtered through the stained glass windows around the church to colour the whole cemetery in dazzling, gem-like tones of red, blue, green, yellow, and white. The reflections from the snow were especially stunning, as each individual ice crystal caught the light slightly differently and sent it spiralling out like a kaleidoscope had exploded and blown away the night.

"Oh, Harry, it's beautiful," Hermione said. Harry could only nod in agreement, too shocked by the cascade of colour to respond. As they stood there taking in the light, a thin but steady stream of people began to make their way into the church.

"Isn't it late for a service?" Harry asked.

"It's probably a Christmas Eve service," Hermione said. "Can we go? It's been years since I've been to one and I think it might do us both some good right now."

"OK," Harry said. "I've never been to a church service before, but I'll give it a try."

Hermione led them back through the kissing gate and into the line of people entering the church. An altar boy gave them a sheet of photocopied paper with a line across it where the toner cartridge wasn't working quite right, which somehow made it exactly what it should be.

They found themselves seats in the last pew on the right side. Harry wasn't sure what he should be doing, but Hermione pulled out a hymnal and started looking up the page numbers of the hymns they'd be singing that evening. He considered making fun of her compulsion to study for things, but in this case it was saving him the trouble of figuring out what on Earth was going on so he decided to call it a win and let her keep working on it.

The vicar was a portly, balding man on the high side of middle age, but he had a decent speaking voice and seemed to understand his community well. His sermon for the evening was a nice retelling of the Christmas story with a bit about how everyone should be on extra-nice behaviour since God might end up as one of their neighbours, or a random stranger on the street in need of a manger to spend the night. It seemed like a reasonable message, and he was also pleased that nobody suggested burning him, Hermione, or any other groups they didn't like for whatever reason.

A small choir sang periodically during the service and, while it had neither the skill nor the setting of St. Paul's, something about sitting in a little old stone church with Hermione on Christmas Eve made it just as good. After they finished singing the final song of the service, Harry and Hermione rose to leave. An elderly woman stopped them, though.

"I hope you don't mind me bothering you," she said, "but I haven't seen you here before and it's awfully late. Do you both have a place to stay?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry said. "We can…get home quickly from here."

A huge smile spread across her wrinkled old face. "I knew it! Many a year has passed since I last saw a Potter bring a new witch home to Godric's Hollow, and I'm glad I lived long enough to see it once more."

Harry froze. "You knew my parents?"

"Aye, and your grandparents and great-grandparents before them," she said. "Your family's bones aren't just buried here, Harry. They're part of this village."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, "but I think you have us at a disadvantage."

"Bathilda Bagshot," she said. "And you–"

"The author of Hogwarts: A History?" Hermione asked excitedly. "I've been reading that in between my other studies. It's wonderful! You really bring the school to life. I'd been wondering why the staircases moved and I'd simply never considered that explanation."

"Wait, there's an explanation?" Harry asked.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said, "you were the one who went there and you didn't read the history?"

Bathilda arched her eyebrows. "While I'm glad you're enjoying my book, I'm intrigued about how Mr. Potter found himself an English witch who didn'tattend Hogwarts."

Now it was Hermione's turn to freeze. Harry jumped in and said, "We just sort of ran into each other."

"I see," Bathilda said. "You know, your grandfather's marriage to Dorea Black was a huge scandal, since the Potters and Blacks historically hated one another. Then James, the little scoundrel, just had to outdo his father and marry not just any muggleborn witch, but the brightest of her age. I didn't think you would top yourfather, Mr. Potter, but I'm starting to suspect I was sorely mistaken."

Hermione blushed. "I'm not thatinteresting, Ms. Bagshot."

"Mrs. Bagshot, please," the grande dame said. "Women in my day went straight from 'Miss' to 'Mrs.' and skipped the whole 'Ms.' bit. Anyway, I've not yet met a boring Lady Potter and I strongly suspect my last one won't break that trend."

"We're only dating." Hermione's blush deepened and Harry suspected his cheeks were now a similar shade of red.

"So your young man didn't bring you here to show you his ancestral home?" Bathilda asked.

"No, just my parents' graves," Harry said. "I didn't know this was my ancestral home." He seized the opportunity to change the subject and continued, "Has my family lived here long?"

The old lady snorted. "The Domesday Bookrecords your family's estate here, Mr. Potter."

"The what?" Harry asked at the same time Hermione said, "Good Lord!"

Harry grinned ruefully. "That old, huh?"

"That's amazingly old," Hermione said.

"I had no idea," Harry said.

Bathilda sighed. "Albus was always too caught up in his grand schemes and plots to save Britain to spend much time thinking about his own village, and I'm saddened but unsurprised to see that he didn't think you'd be interested in such information, either."

"Professor Dumbledore grew up here, too?" Harry asked.

"That he did," Bathilda said. "I knew him when he was just a lad. Of course, children back then didn't have all the amusements they have now, so they spent a lot more time outside playing and I got to know them better. Did you spend much time on the tee-vee, young lady?"

"No, I preferred to read," Hermione said, clearly perplexed at the sudden swerve in topic. "Well, that and old Dr. Who episodes. I still love those."

For once, Harry put two and two together faster than the brilliant woman next to him and slipped his wand into his hand. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bagshot," he said, "but I'm going to have to Obliviate you."

Hermione spun around and nearly stumbled when she saw his wand out. "Harry! What are you–"

"It's fine, dear," Bathilda said. "You had no way of knowing you shouldn't have answered that question. No magical child grew up with a tee-vee in the house because those devices are too sensitive to magic. Mr. Potter, how did you find her?"

"More or less by accident," Harry said. "Goodnight, Mrs. Bagshot. Obliv–"

"Wait!" she said. "I'll make an Unbreakable Vow."

"A what?" Hermione asked.

"A promise enforced by Magic," Harry said. "If she breaks it, she dies."

"Is that necessary?"

Bathilda nodded. "I'm afraid so. Harry knows precisely how illegal what he just did was, which means you must be in terrible danger right now. I don't wish to add to that."

"Why can't they just leave me alone?" Hermione sagged as she spoke. "I don't want to hurt anyone just to survive."

"That's the nature of racism," Harry said. "Your existence is their reason."

"Do you think they'll stop with you?" Bathilda asked. "If you roll over and die, they'll just keep hurting others like you, and when they run out of those people, they'll start in on people with a muggleborn parent like Mr. Potter here."

Hermione glared at the older woman. "That's blatantly manipulative and you know it."

"That doesn't mean it won't work," Bathilda said with equanimity. "I saw how you interposed yourself between him and me when I said I knew his parents."

"She did?" Harry asked, annoyed at himself for missing that.

"It was subtle," Bathilda said. "You'd kill for him, dearie. Accept that you owe yourself the same and demand the Vow."

"Fine." Hermione sighed. "First, a boggart, now this. Can I have a normal Christmas Eve next year, Harry?"

"I'll try." Harry knew better than to make promises he couldn't keep.

"A boggart?" Bathilda asked.

"She's learning DADA to prepare for her O.W.L.s," Harry said. "We don't quite have a year, so we have to compress a lot. Alright, both of you shake hands."

As their hands touched, Harry raised his wand over them. Bathilda said, "I vow to tell no one that this young lady is a muggleborn witch or that she is with Harry Potter unless I'm given leave to tell that individual by Mr. Potter." Gold sparks of magic flowed from Harry's wand and around their wrists while she spoke, and when she finished the magic settled into their skin.

"Thank you," Harry said. "You may speak of this with Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Madam Pomfrey, Headmistress McGonagall, Deputy Headmaster Flitwick, and Professor Tonks."

"Yes," Hermione added. "I'm sorry that was necessary."

"I understand," Bathilda said. "Now, what was that about you trying to finish your O.W.L. studies in under a year?"

Harry explained the situation to her, then paused and looked around. "Wait, why hasn't the vicar come over to ask us to leave?"

"Just a bit of a Confundus Charm," Bathilda said. "He'll let us close the church after we leave. No need to lock it around here. Most of my neighbours don't even lock their doors. Anyway, this project sounds fascinating, but I noticed you don't have anyone tutoring her in Magical History."

Harry shrugged. "I managed to pass my O.W.L. after having Professor Binns, and that's pretty much like having no teacher at all."

"That's not wrong," Bathilda said, "but this young lady deserves better. Hermione, if you're interested, please feel free to come over for tea once a week and we can discuss Magical History."

"That would be wonderful, thank you," Hermione said. "I don't want to impose, though."

"Not at all," Bathilda said, smiling. "I've spent most of my life writing history and it would be nice to help make a little for once." The old woman's smile turned impish. "Besides, I used to have lovely teas with another brilliant muggleborn witch while she was pregnant and couldn't exert herself as much as she normally did, and it would be poor form to ignore the opportunity her child gave me to continue the tradition."

Ignoring the blushing young people in front of her, she continued. "I've kept you both long enough now. You can Apparate home safely from in here now that the vicar has gone home. I'll just close the door behind me."

Harry nodded and they bid her goodnight. As soon as the church door thuddedclosed, he took his girlfriend into his arms and they disappeared into the darkness.

The next morning they hauled themselves out of bed early and had a quiet breakfast. By the time they'd finished an entire pot of tea, Harry finally felt awake enough to have a proper discussion.

"Well, last night was…something, wasn't it?" Harry asked.

"Goodness, yes," Hermione said. "Nothing normal can happen around you, can it?"

He shook his head sadly. "Not so far. Are you excited about the tutoring, at least?"

"Of course!" Hermione said. "How often will I have the opportunity to learn directly from one of the premier magical historians in the country? Were you excited to learn about your family's history?"

"Definitely," Harry said. "I may try to accompany you to some of those meetings and see what else she can tell me. What…um…did you think of the village?"

"It was beautiful," she replied. "I can see why your parents wanted you to grow up there."

"It's a lot quieter than London," Harry said carefully. "There are fewer interesting stores and restaurants, too."

"That's the trade-off," Hermione said. "It would be a hard one to make, but that just seems like such a perfect place to raise a family that I can understand why your parents made the choice they did."

"Do you think you would…um…make that same choice?" Harry asked.

Hermione blushed. "I think I would," she whispered.

"I think I would, too," he said. "Besides how nice it seemed, it looks like the sort of place where everyone knows each other, which means they'd all either not care or quickly get used to me being famous and I could just be another resident there."

"I can understand the appeal," Hermione said.

They sipped from their second pot of tea in silence for awhile longer before Hermione finally sighed and spoke again. "I should probably get going," she said.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

"Yes," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow and we can commiserate."

"OK," Harry said. "Dobby?"

The elf poppedup next to their table. "Yes, Great Harry Potter sir?"

Harry stifled a sigh at the mode of address. "Can you take Hermione to her parents' house?"

"One moment," Hermione said. "I need to run upstairs and get my bag."

Dobby snapped his fingers and Hermione's backpack appeared in his hands. "This bag, Missy My-oh-knee?"

"Oh…yes. Thank you, Dobby," she said. "So, how will you find my parents' house? Harry said he couldn't take me because he'd never been there before."

"You just have to wants it, Miss," Dobby said. "House elves can pull the desires from humans' minds to ensure we does things right."

"Oh, I see. That would be a fascinating area of magic to study, but not right now. I'll make sure to pick a place where we won't be seen." She gave Harry a quick kiss. "I'll see you soon. Happy Christmas, Harry,"

"I'll look forward to it," Harry said. "Happy Christmas, Hermione."

She nodded to Dobby and the two of them disappeared, leaving Harry with only the fading echoes of the popof elven apparition for company.