Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 86-89)

"She helped kill Sirius; I don’t want her here. She has no right to seek refuge in this house," Harry said, a hard lump forming in his throat.
Remus hung his head and answered in a strained voice, "I know, Harry. Believe me, I understand how you feel, but we have no choice. We no longer have our spy among the Death Eaters. Both Draco and Narcissa were heavily involved in some of Voldemort’s plans. They understand how the minds of the Death Eaters work better than we do. We can use their help."
"And in exchange they stay alive," Harry said bitterly.
Remus nodded, still keeping a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He could see Hermione fearfully watching him, waiting to see what he was going to do. Ginny’s expression was fierce; she didn’t like this any better than he did, but she was prepared to follow his lead.
"I hate this," he whispered, taking a deep breath.
"I know," Remus said sadly.
"That little ferret better stay out of my way. If I so much as see him, or hear him make one snide remark, he’ll never see the hex coming. And no one better stop me this time," Harry said fiercely.
He took one last look around at the pale faces of the others before storming from the room.
Harry spent the remainder of the day stewing over the fact that Malfoy was here, in Sirius’s house. His reaction could be called tame compared to the howl of rage Ron bellowed when he learned of the arrangement. Mrs. Weasley had been informed that they’d all have to remain at Grimmauld Place for a few days before anyone could inspect the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley hadn’t been pleased at all.
As he paced in his room, Harry came to the conclusion that he needed to get out. He needed to set his plan in motion, and something told him that his plan needed to commence at Godric’s Hollow. Something was drawing him there.
He’d promised Ron and Hermione that they’d work together to find the Horcruxes, and he still needed to figure out how Ginny fit into all this, but Godric’s Hollow was his own. This was his private quest. He wasn’t certain why he needed to go there so badly, but he knew that he did. And he knew he wanted to do it alone.
That night, as everyone slept and all was quiet in the house, Harry packed a light rucksack and took along the address Aunt Petunia had given him. He left a note telling Ginny not to worry and that he’d be back, there was just something he had to do first.
A/N: This chapter was written before JKR clarified how a Secret Keeper worked, so I left it as is. I do need others able to get into Grimmald Place.
Chapter Six
Godric’s Hollow
The steady hum of the train lolled its few scattered passengers to sleep as they traveled from England into Wales on a cool summer night. After his unannounced departure from Grimmauld Place, Harry had headed directly for the train station. While staying at the Burrow, he’d arranged to have some of his gold converted to pounds, thus enabling him to purchase a train ticket.
He was still underage and unable to Apparate legally, and he’d also been concerned that the Order would have been able to trace him if he used any magic. He was certain Ron and Hermione would deduce where he was going, but he hoped that they wouldn’t reveal his destination out of anger over being left behind.
He’d never shown them the slip of paper Aunt Petunia had given him that last morning at Privet Drive, but he reckoned that Lupin would know the address if they mentioned Godric’s Hollow. There was nothing to be done for it now; he could only hope they’d hold their tongues.
He didn’t plan on being gone very long and fervently prayed they’d understand by the time he returned. He still wasn’t certain what was drawing him to the place where it had all began for him. He was unsure what his own reaction would be on seeing the spot where his parents were killed, and his life had been irrevocably altered. It all felt sort of surreal to him as he stared unseeingly out the train’s window.
Ever since Dumbledore’s funeral, the idea of seeing his parents’ final resting spot had obsessed Harry. He’d agreed to allowing Ron and Hermione come with him, but the more he’d thought about it, the more he wanted to make this journey alone. He knew his friends cared about him and only had his best interests at heart, but he didn’t feel up to answering Hermione’s unending questions or dealing with Ron’s awkwardness over any show of emotion. He needed to do this alone.
Luck had been on his side when he’d reached the train station. He’d managed to catch the evening’s last train to Swansea with only ten minutes to spare. Even if they’d noticed him missing immediately, no one could have figured out where he’d gone and caught him in time. He’d have to switch trains when he arrived, but only for a short distance. Then he hoped to catch a taxi that would take him to Hillside Lane.
His stomach roiled at the thought. He had no idea what to expect once he arrived. Try as he might, he could recall nothing of his life in Godric’s Hollow. His earliest memory was of massive amounts of green light. Hagrid had told him the house had been ruined, but he’d never heard if it had been rebuilt, or sold, or what had become of the land. He didn’t even know if it was a Muggle or wizarding area. He bounced his leg on the ball of his foot anxiously as the train drew ever closer to Wales.
He kept his wand at the ready, and his eyes scanned the train car warily, but no one had bothered him since he’d climbed aboard and taken his seat. It was as if he’d finally achieved the anonymity he’d always desired while traveling amongst the Muggles. He wasn’t about to let
his guard down, however. The prickling sensation on the back of his neck made him feel as if he were being watched.
There was no moon to brighten the landscape, so Harry could only stare into the darkness and imagine it racing past. From the map he’d glanced at back in the train station, he knew Godre’r-graig was near the sea. He allowed his mind to wander over pleasant images of his parents walking along the beach.
He pressed his nose against the window as thoughts of Ginny once again filled his mind. She’d looked lovely in her wedding finery, and he savored the memories of their shared kisses. He smiled as the thoughts of their day together washed over him. She was a bright spot in the cold, dismal murk that was his life at the moment. How had he ever hoped to do this without her?
As dawn’s light crept slowly across the horizon, Harry tiredly rubbed his itchy eyes. He collected his bag as the train pulled into the station and stepped off and into Wales. It took him awhile to find the connection he was seeking, but he managed without a lot of fuss and by the time the morning sun was blazing and life was returning to the sleepy holiday village, Harry was standing on Hillside Lane.
He’d asked the cabdriver to let him out at the end of the quiet street, preferring to walk up to the house and give himself some time to adjust. The nervous fluttering in his stomach continued and seemed to increase the closer he got to his destination. It was a bright, clear morning, and Harry was pleased to note that the street with its secluded cottages appeared unique and so unlike Privet Drive. That alone bolstered his spirits somewhat.
Godre’r-graig was a quiet Muggle village with quaint Birch-lined streets of old stone cottages. It wasn’t located directly on the sea, as Harry thought, but was set further back and was more woodsy than he’d anticipated. Still, he could smell salt in the air and knew he wasn’t far from the coast. As he trudged up the street, his heart hammering in his chest, he clenched and unclenched his fist around the fake Horcrux in his pocket. He found his hands were suddenly sweating profusely, despite the coolness of the morning.
As Harry turned around the bend in the road, his breath caught in his throat. The lots on either side of number sixteen were vacant, making it appear that it was set on its own in the forest. Nature had reclaimed most of the land and it was overgrown with weeds and vines. In the midst of it all, Harry could see the remains of a stone structure. Only one wall still stood amidst the rubble and stone in a depressed crater.
Harry found something lodged in his throat, and swallowed painfully. He had to drag his unwilling feet closer as his mind warred with the conflicting desires to both see the destruction and to run away from it. He had the oddest sense of familiarity, even though he knew that was impossible. He’d been just over a year old when he’d left here; there was no way he could remember this place. Still, the feeling persisted as he trudged closer.
He again felt that prickling on the back of his neck and turned around apprehensively. The wind ruffled the trees slightly, but other than the droning buzz of insects and a few birdcalls, nothing disturbed the peace of his surroundings. Harry kept his wand in his hand as he moved closer.
It’s just nerves.
Thick clumps of lilies grew along the edge of the house foundation, and Harry wondered if his dad had planted them for his mum. He swallowed again, realizing for the hundredth time how little he actually knew about his parents and their life together.
As he inched closer and closer towards the ruins, he wondered – if things had happened differently – whether his dad would have put a tire swing on a low-lying branch of one of the garden’s many trees. There was a swing at the Burrow that appeared to have seen a lot of use, and it had come to symbolize a happy family home to Harry. He would have liked to see a swing in his own yard.
He wondered if he might have had younger brothers or sisters who would have swung with him or maybe demanded that he push them. He thought he would have liked being a big brother.
The persistent lump in his throat grew in size as he imagined both his parents taking him to King’s Cross on his first day of Hogwarts and actually accompanying him onto the platform. Everything could have been so different…
Rage and loss filled Harry’s heart as he stared at the destruction around him with deadened eyes. Voldemort did this. He stole whatever chance of happiness and a normal childhood Harry had ever had. It wasn’t fair!
It doesn’t do to dwell on dreams…
Dumbledore’s voice echoed in Harry’s head as he stepped over the threshold and inside what would have once been his family’s home. Harry shuddered; there had been entirely too much death already. He could feel a tingling sensation under his skin that made him uneasy, and he glanced warily at the street once again.
Nothing disturbed the peacefulness of the morning, and Harry scolded himself for losing his nerve. Being here was making him jumpy. In his mind’s eye, he could vaguely imagine how it would look if all the walls had remained intact, and thanks to the memories the Dementors had evoked in him, he could hear the echo of his parents’ voices.
He inched forward, pushing random pieces of rubble out of the way with his foot, until he came upon a piece of blackened, scorched earth. It appeared as if there had been a fire on this one small bit of ground. Harry knelt down and ran his hand in the dirt. It felt decayed, lifeless, as if nothing would ever grow in that spot again.
A chill ran down Harry’s spine. This was where his father stood when he’d been murdered. Harry knew it with the same certainty that he knew his own name. He shut his eyes tightly and took a deep, shuddering