But Thy Eternal Summer Shall Not Fade

Ron stared at the timetable hanging on the wall of King's Cross Station and sighed deeply. Why do Muggles have to be so complicated, he wondered silently. All Hermione had asked him to do was look at the railway timetable, and Ron discovered he wasn't even able to tell the destinations of the trains, how was he supposed to understand which were the intermediate stops? Why didn't Hermione just look for herself? No, she was already in the queue for the ticket office, waiting for him to return with the necessary information for buying the right tickets. Why didn't she send Harry with me then? Harry was busy looking at some Muggle newspapers, scanning them for any tragedies that might have been occurred. It almost made him smile when he saw how the Muggles were able to find natural explanations for all the things that happened through the Death Eaters. Just a fortnight earlier, an old couple has been found dead on a seashore in Walsh. Amy and Dennis Bishop lay on the sand only half a mile from their house, they didn't have any kind of injuries or wounds, but their hearts had suddenly stopped beating at the same time at some point during the night. The cause was unmistakable for the Ministry of Magic, a pair of Killing Curses. But naturally the Muggle journalists had come up with a very unrealistic story of the Bishops' hearts collapsing from fear. What caused that terror and why, remained a mystery.

Ron stole a glance at Hermione out of the corner of his eye and imagined how amused she would be to see that he wasn't able to read a simple timetable. "Oh, Ron, it's not difficult, you know, you just have to read the names here, the times here and the stops here." Ron grinned. He would have loved to hear her bossy voice directed at him. He could not seem to get enough of her voice, even if she was lecturing him. There was just one little problem. While she talked to him, his ears always filled with a persistent and low drumming sound, blood that pounded in his head. At the beginning, he thought it would drive him crazy having to listen to her while she told him how to wave his wand or how immature he was when he bullied the first years. But then comprehension hit him and he knew that it wasn't anger that made his cheeks turn hot and red, because he wasn't angry when she simply sat next to him in the common room, looking anxiously in front of her as she searched for the inspiration to write something on her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. It was something else, something of much more pleasant than rage.

"Found anything?"

Ron turned towards the voice he heard from his right. It was too deep to be Hermione. "How do you read something like this?" he asked Harry. "It's full of numbers and names and letters, and they don't seem to mean anything at all."

Harry grinned. "You just have to read the names here," he said, pointing a finger towards the timetable. "Here's the time of departure and the time of arrival at the last stop." Harry slid his finger across the schedule. "These are the intermediate stops." He pointed at the last column.

Ron sighed. It didn't seem that difficult, but he had really hoped that Hermione would appear at his side and teach him how to read that stupid table instead of Harry. Maybe she would have touched him while she directed his hand with her own. He smiled at the very thought, and for a moment something very similar to butterflies, started to move in his stomach.

"I think this train will work for us," said Harry, snapping Ron out of his thoughts as he drummed his finger on the name of a train.

Ron looked up, trying to focus on the table again. "But this train goes to York," he pointed out.

"We won't get off in York," explained Harry calmly.

Ron scanned the list of intermediate stops, hoping he would find the name of their destination there, but he was wrong. "This train doesn't stop at Godric's Hollow, Harry."

"I know. Do you remember what Hermione said? There isn't a station in Godric's Hollow. We'll have to get off here," he said, pointing at the name of a town with his finger.

"Pocklington," Ron managed to read as soon as Harry took his finger away. "Right, how far is Godric's Hollow from this village?"

"About half a mile, I think," answered Harry vaguely. "Maybe more, maybe less."

"Which we'll have to cover on foot, right?" asked Ron, his voice heavy with anxiety.

"Right," confirmed Harry cheerfully. He looked at Hermione then and elbowed Ron in his ribs. "I think we ought to get back to Hermione. She's almost in front of the ticket office."

Ron nodded and they walked back towards Hermione, who was counting the money in her hands for what Ron thought must have been the tenth time.

"Which train?" she asked anxiously, looking from Ron to Harry and back.

"The one for York, but buy the tickets only to Pocklington," Harry explained. "We'll get off there."

Hermione nodded. "Do you think this money is going to be enough?" she asked Harry.

Harry looked at the bills she showed him and shrugged. It wasn't like he had loads of experience with Muggle money. Actually, his uncle had rarely given him as much as a cent. Hermione was more accustomed to it than he was, perhaps she was just nervous about the trip.

"We'll be waiting for you on that bench," said Harry as he and Ron started to drag their suitcases to the other side of the station.

Hermione nodded distractedly, as the man in front of her reached the window and asked for a ticket for Cambridge.

"Hermione's suitcase is heavy as a rock," said Harry, collapsing on the bench. "I bet it's full of books."

Ron smiled and sat down next to him. He lifted Crookshanks' little cage and opened it, taking the little tiger in his arms. "Yeah, well, I tried to discourage her, but you know she wouldn't go anywhere without her copy of 'Hogwarts: A History'."

"You're joking!" Harry laughed, half amused and half exasperated.

Ron shook his head, smiling and scratching Crookshanks between his ears. The cat purred contentedly on Ron's lap. "I think she also said something about a book on medicine that she found extremely interesting. I think she wants to become a Healer after Hogwarts."

Harry didn't answer. He sank down onto the bench, tilted his head up and looked at the ceiling of the station. It was so dirty that he wondered how it was possible that the grime didn't fall on their heads like little black rain drops. So Hermione wants to become a Healer after Hogwarts, he thought. Harry knew that she wouldn't be able to finish school and it was all his fault. He was dragging his friends along on what was surely a suicidal mission, without really even knowing why. You didn't force them to come with you, he reminded to himself. They decided to follow you. Better yet they forced you to bring them with you. He let out a deep sigh and looked back at Ron.

"Nice," he muttered.

Ron nodded. "I know."

"Ron! What did you take out Crookshanks for?" Hermione walked towards them hurriedly.

"He just wanted to stretch his paws. Look how happy he is," said Ron, grinning. "I think that he likes me."

"Well, put him back into his cage. We have a train to catch in less than ten minutes," she snapped, handing their tickets to them. "We're not even close to the right platform." Hermione looked at her ticket and then looked around the station. "Platform ten, and we are just in front of platform two. Hurry up!" She seized Crookshanks' cage and her own suitcase, and started to walk quickly in the direction of platform ten, which was already crowded with people.

"Hurry up!" cried Hermione, turning her bushy head towards Ron and Harry. She jumped on the first step that lead to the last carriage of the train and tried to drag her suitcase up the stairs. The bag only moved when Ron pushed it from the and into the train. "Thank you, Ron," she mumbled, pulling her belongings from the doorway into the aisle. Ron and Harry had just enough time to climb up the stairs behind her, as the train's doors closed behind them with a sinister clanging note.

"When you say in the nick of the time," Ron gasped, panting as he rested against the wall of the train, which announced its departure with a puff of smoke and a loud whistle. Ron and Harry looked curiously around at the Muggle train, ready to find it totally different from the Hogwarts Express, but both of them were rather surprised to note that they were wrong. Except for the external part, which - Harry thought - was much less characteristic of the Hogwarts Express, the inside of the carriage were exactly like the ones on their school train. A long aisle ran from one end of the car to the other, and at least ten sliding-doors opened on as many compartments. The only difference were the passengers. On the Hogwarts Express there were only students, and only students who attended Hogwarts, and an occasional teacher that had asked for a lift. On that train, on the contrary, there were noisy families, laughing groups of girls and boys and quiet old couples who seemed to pass their time scolding the younger travellers.

"There's an empty compartment here," they heard Hermione say from the head of the carriage. Ron and Harry turned towards her and saw that she was looking at them expectantly, tapping her foot on the floor. With an exasperated sigh she crossed her arms on her chest and leaned against the wall of the compartment, she was getting impatient. Her friends seemed lost in thoughts as their eyes travelled around them. She knew that they had never placed a toe on a Muggle train, but there was no need to make a fuss about that.

"Come on!" she commanded. Ron and Harry sighed deeply, both thinking they shouldn't have bought her that cup of coffee when she had said she was a bit tired that morning. Now they knew that caffeine and Hermione weren't compatible, not for their own at least.

"Can you help me put my luggage up there?" Hermione asked when Ron and Harry reached the compartment. She had already put Crookshanks on the seat next to the window.

"Sure," Ron replied with a grin. He took his wand out of his pocket and waved it lazily towards the suitcase. "Wingard-"

"No!" screamed Hermione as she seized his wand, practically tearing it from his hands.

Ron looked at her dumbly. "You know, Hermione, I've gotten much better at that charm in the last seven years."

Hermione shot him a glare. "Ron, we are on a Muggle train. You can't perform magic in front of Muggles."

"Hermione, they won't even see me. There's nobody here," he answered calmly, stretching his arm towards her in an attempt to claim his wand.

Hermione brought it behind her back and shook her head. "First help me with the luggage - without magic - and then I'll give your wand back," she said resolutely.

Ron looked from her to Harry, who seemed vaguely amused by the whole exchange, and back to Hermione. He snorted and said, "There's nothing you want from the luggage, before I break my back trying to lift it up? I hope you'll bring me oranges in St. Mungo's, when I won't be able to walk for the rest of my life and that you'll have the decency to feel a little guilty."

Hermione couldn't help smiling a little, but when Ron dove at her trying to take his wand back, clearly hoping to catch her off guard, she backed up abruptly and crashed against the window. Ron found himself left with very little room to sneak a hand behind her back and retrieve his wand.

"I would bring you oranges if you were in Azkaban," Hermione replied with a grin.

"What?"

"Oranges are for prisoners, not for patients. Plus, if you really break your back I would be more than pleased to take care of you, and get some experience as a Healer." She giggled.

"Right, then I think I'll just jump in front of the train, so that you'll be able to practice on much more than just a broken back," said Ron sarcastically.

Harry suppressed a laugh, not because of his friend's sarcastic remark, but because he wasn't so sure that Ron was joking at all. Ron wasn't stupid, but Harry thought that he would have really jumped in front of the train if Hermione had asked him.

"That would be lovely," said Hermione, smiling. "Thank you for volunteering, Ron."

Ron stuck out his tongue playfully and turned towards Harry. "Come on, mate, help me with this," he said, seizing one end of the suitcase.

"Wait. You're right, there are some things I'll need during the ride. Just start with your own suitcases," she said, opening her bag.

Harry and Ron shrugged and lifted their suitcases up pretty easily. Being boys, and being much less bookworm-ish than Hermione, they hadn't brought a lot of things with them. Just some clothes and their wands and naturally something to eat.

"Done," said Hermione, zipping her bag closed. Ron looked over her shoulder and saw a small mountain of things piled next to Crookshanks' cage. "What?" asked Hermione defensively. "I want to get some reading done. We've got a long way to go."

"I didn't say anything," answered Ron, throwing up his hands. "You're free to do whatever you want, and I'm happy that you took out so many things. At least now your luggage will be a little bit lighter."

Harry bent over her suitcase and seized one of the end of it. "You wish," he said, trying to lift it. "It's still as heavy as a rock."

Hermione sighed as she sat down on the seat next to the window, across from Crookshanks and her pile of books. "Come on, it's not so heavy. I was able to drag it all the way from the underground to the main station," she said as she extracted a book from the pile.

With great effort from both of her friends, Hermione's luggage was finally placed on the rack. Harry collapsed on a seat and took a deep breath. "Honestly, Hermione, what about the whole 'better if we don't bring too many things with us' thing? You suggested it in the first place."

Hermione snorted. "They are all things that we'll need."

"Let me guess, books, books and books, right?" Harry smirked.

"Books are useful," Hermione declared. "But I don't have just books. I've brought some potions and ingredients to make other potions."

"Planning to play Potions Master while we're looking for Horcruxes?" asked Harry, looking out of the window.

Hermione lowered her eyes. "No, just being prudent," she answered calmly, opening the book that lay in her lap and turning the pages quietly.

Harry nodded, but Hermione didn't see him, and he didn't bother to answer her out loud.

"Can I have my wand back now?" asked Ron, turning towards Hermione.

"You swear that you won't perform magic on this train?" asked Hermione, without looking up. Her long curls hid her face, but Ron was pretty sure her eyes were following the words on the page as well as her mind followed the words he spoke. How she was able to do two things at once like that, he didn't know.

"I swear that I won't perform magic on this train," said Ron, sighing.

Hermione handed him his wand and he shoved it in his back pocket. Ron looked up at Harry, but he was staring out of the window as if this was his first train trip. It seemed like he wanted to every tree, every house, every street they saw.

"So," Ron began hesitantly, breaking the silence that had filled the compartment. "Have you discovered the location of your parents' cottage?"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and turned his head. When his eyes opened, he looked at Ron and then cast a glance towards Hermione. He saw that she had stopped reading and was staring at him. When their eyes met, she lowered her gaze back to her book. Harry turned his attention towards Ron. "Yes," he said, trying to give the impression of not wanting to say anything else.

Ron stared at him expectantly, because he wanted to know what that something else was. "And?" he asked after a while.

"And what?"

"Where is it?"

"At Godric's Hollow," Harry replied simply.

"Don't be stupid," said Ron, rolling his eyes.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not. Godric's Hollow isn't very big."

"How do you know? You've never been there, have you?"

"No. But I asked the right person," Harry responded with a smile.

"Professor Lupin?" Ron took out his ticket and started to twist it in his hands.

"No, he didn't even know where Godric's Hollow was," he replied. "I should have asked Wormtail. He was my parents' Secret Keeper after all, " he added bitterly.

"Then who--?"

"Hagrid," answered Hermione, blushing behind her book.

Ron looked at her, surprised. "How do you know?" He turned towards Harry. "How does she know?"

"Because she suggested it in the first place," Harry answered. "And it was a very good idea."

Ron sank into the seat and crossed his arms on his chest. "And you've just forgotten to inform me, haven't you?" he asked sharply.

"It's not that," said Hermione hastily, looking up from the book. "We just didn't have the chance to tell you. It all happened so quickly."

Ron rolled his eyes again. "Sure," he said sarcastically. "Is there anything else you want to tell me? Maybe something about your secret relationship?"

Hermione turned quite scarlet, while Harry grinned. "Oh, right Ron, we forgot to invite you at our wedding, how inconsiderate of us."

"Should I laugh? Because that was not funny," Ron hissed, narrowing his eyes.

"Stop being grumpy, Ron. It was funny," Hermione laughed as she turned back to her book.

Ron snorted. "So, where exactly is your parents' cottage?" he asked again.

"At the end of the main street in the village."

"How do you know that it hasn't been sold to someone and now a new family lives there? I mean, no heir has shown up in the last sixteen years, and for all we know it could have been sold or torn down and now there's just an owl shop at its place," Ron grumbled and started to pick at the sleeve of his jumper. It was almost as though he couldn't stay still.

"No, it's still there and it's still mine, and there wouldn't be an owl shop in a Muggle village anyway," Harry added thoughtfully. "I have the deed to the property in my vault at Gringotts," said Harry casually. "I saw it when Bill brought me in to retrieve some money."

"Oh," murmured Ron. He looked at Harry jealously. "It must be nice to have your own vault, with your own money and your house," he added rather bitterly. "I wonder how it feels to know that you have enough money to buy Diagon Alley."

"I wouldn't know, would I? I think you should ask Malfoy if you wanna know." Harry was annoyed now. Didn't his friend understand that he had all that money only because his parents left it to him as an inheritance? He would have preferred to have his parents instead of a vault full of Galleons.

Ron turned a slight red colour, because Harry's tone of voice let out more than he actually wanted to tell. "We were talking about the cottage, weren't we?" he asked, trying to get back to a safe subject.

"Yeah," answered Harry. "I'm a bit curious about what we'll find there. Hagrid's just said that the Ministry cleaned up the mess after he took me away and then sealed the house."

"That means only one thing to me, mate," Ron replied seriously. "A lot of dust."

Harry grinned. "Well, this time there's nobody that force us to cleaning the house, unlike at Grimmauld Place."

"Yeah, luckily Mum won't be there," Ron sighed with relief.

"Excuse me?" Hermione looked scandalized. "What do you mean by that? That if there's nobody to compel you into doing the cleaning that you won't do anything, even if the house is covered with dust?"

"You got the point perfectly, Hermione," said Ron cheerfully.

Hermione's face darkened and she snapped her book closed. "I won't sleep in a place that has not been cleaned in the last sixteen years."

"Hagrid mentioned something about a garden, if you're interested," Harry laughed.

"I am not sleeping outside either," she snapped.

"Well, then, thanks for volunteering to clean the cottage, Hermione. I don't know what would we do if you weren't with us," said Ron.

"Nice try, Ron, but I won't clean the house all alone. Naturally, you'll help me," she said firmly.

"By 'you' you mean Harry, right?" asked Ron hopefully.

"Hey!" Harry objected.

"It is your house, after all," said Ron , with a little shrug.

"I meant both of you," said Hermione in a tone that suggested she would not accept anything less than complete agreement.

"Good grief, Hermione! Go back to your book, Harry and I were discussing important things," snapped Ron.

"What are you reading, Hermione?" Harry asked casually.

Hermione raised the book she was holding, and showed the cover to Harry. The Healer Helpmate, he noted.

"You're really interested in this stuff, aren't you?"

"Yes, I think I've finally decided what to do after Hogwarts," she answered seriously.

Harry lowered his eyes and his voice at the same time. "Do you think that they'll accept you at St. Mungo's, even if you've not completed your schooling?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip and let her eyes wander around the compartment, which at that moment seemed to have become uncomfortably silent.

"No, they won't, but who said that I won't be able to complete my studies at Hogwarts? I mean we'll be back. I can always start my seventh year, with the students that are currently taking it. Maybe if I'm lucky I could be in the same class as Ginny."

"But I thought that you couldn't leave school and then come back whenever you want," said Ron surprised. "I mean, that's what Fred and George always tell Mum when she tells them that they should go back to school."

"Yeah, well, they left of their own free will, and I don't think that they want to go back to school at all," she retorted.

Harry looked at her, his eyes dark and stormy behind his glasses. "And you didn't leave of your own free will?" he asked, trying to remain calm.

Hermione looked at him, suddenly aware that she had used the wrong words. "I meant that they left school because they didn't want to attend anymore. Not like us." She stopped, weighing her words carefully. "Because you two want to finish school after this, right?" she asked hesitantly.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. Harry hadn't thought about that possibility. He simply hadn't considered the fact that he could have had a future after what they were facing. Naturally he wanted to finish school. He remembered what Professor McGonagall had said to him in his fifth year. Potter, I will assist you to become an Auror if it is the last thing I do! If I have to coach you nightly, I will make sure you achieve the required results! Maybe there was time for that as well.

"Right?" repeated Hermione weakly.

"Sure," answered Harry, brought back to the present by the sound of her voice. "That would be lovely." He decided there was no need to tell her that he didn't think that he could ever go back to school. Why discuss his gloomy thoughts at that moment? There would be plenty of time in the coming days.

"I don't know if I'll go back to school," said Ron, looking everywhere but at Hermione.

"What?" she asked in disbelief. "You are kidding me, aren't you?"

Ron shrugged. "Maybe we'll find something we like to do that doesn't require to finish school at all."

"For example?" asked Hermione sharply.

"I said maybe," snapped Ron. "I still don't know."

Hermione let out a soft snort, but she didn't reply. She was simply too angry at him, for expressing the possibility of not going back to school. Ron was so stubborn sometimes. Sometimes, she snorted again.

"Have you figured out where your parents are buried?" Ron asked awkwardly. He knew that Harry had expressed a desire to visit their graves back in June. Harry had been searching relentlessly for the location of their tombs ever since.

Harry nodded and smiled a little. "They're buried in the graveyard at Godric's Hollow."

Ron raised his eyebrows slightly. "Why?"

Harry looked at him without understanding. "Why - what?"

"Why there? I mean, it was just a place where they were hiding, shouldn't they have buried them next to your grandparents?" asked Ron simply.

"Who would have buried them, Ron?" Harry asked without a trace of irritation in his voice. "My grandparents were already dead, and the only relatives that could have given them a proper funeral hated my parents. I think the Ministry took care of everything, so why would they have taken them been buried somewhere else?"

Ron thought carefully about what Harry said. "You're right," he said eventually. "So they're in the cemetery at Godric's Hollow. That's nice. You said that it's not a big village, you can visit their graves lots of times before move on."

"Yeah," said Harry quietly.

"Speaking of which, how long are we planning to stay?" Ron asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Harry shrugged. "A week or so. I think."

"And then?" Harry looked at Hermione, who met his eyes anxiously. She sounded like someone that had waited for just the right moment to ask just the right question. The nervousness in her voice wasn't concealed very well.

"We'll see," answered Harry vaguely. Truth was that he didn't know what would follow.

"But you must have a plan or something," she replied.

"Sure, here's my plan: find the Horcruxes, destroy the Horcruxes, kill Voldemort and have a nice long holiday in the Canary Islands," he said, pretending to check an invisible list.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Okay, sorry. I didn't know that you wanted to improvise."

"I don't. I think that I'll consider where to go next when we leave Godric's Hollow. Is that okay with you?" he snarled.

"Sure," answered Hermione slowly. "It's up to you, after all."

"Thanks," answered Harry. He took a deep breath and tried to smile. After all, it was like they were sort of having their first real holiday all together. That's a big fat lie, he told himself, but I can always pretend, at least until one of us gets killed.

The door to their compartment swung open and a tall man in a blue uniform stepped inside. "Tickets," he demanded.

Hermione was the farthest from the door, but somehow she managed to give him her ticket first. Ron looked at her in amusement as she bent over him to pass the ticket. She seemed terribly worried that someone could have found out that there was something wrong with their tickets. He smiled faintly for a moment as she leaned on his leg to steady herself, while her right arm was stretched above their heads, waiting for the ticket to be safely back between her fingers. Ron felt her long curls brushing his cheek and for a moment her scent filled his nostrils. He moved imperceptibly towards her, his heart beating more furiously inside his ribcage and a strange hotness spreading on his cheeks.

"Thank you," said the conductor, giving the tickets back. "Young man, remove your feet from the seat," he scolded Ron, before closing the door and walking towards the next compartment.

Hermione pocketed her ticket and glared at Ron.

"Young man, remove your feet from the seat," repeated Ron, in a perfect imitation of the man's voice, which caused Harry to laugh, but Hermione to frown even more. "As if I was hurting the seat," he chuckled.

"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione exasperated. "You are incredible."

"Thanks," he said, grinning.

"It wasn't a compliment," she snapped.

"Never mind, thanks anyway," he continued, shrugging.

Hermione shook her head in frustration but Harry could have sworn that he saw a smile playing on her lips.

The train stopped in a small city and they saw a lot of people waiting on the platform. Nobody tried to enter their compartment. Ron whispered to Harry that it was probably because Hermione was occupying half of the compartment with her things, but his voice wasn't quite low enough. Hermione snapped back at him that he was the one occupying half of the space in there with his feet.

By the time the train left the station, Harry and Ron were engaged in a heated discussion about Quidditch. This time Hermione didn't bother to join them, since she would have had very little to say about the best Quidditch team in Europe. She just knew that it wasn't the Chudley Cannons. Harry had chuckled when Ron said the Cannons would win the Quidditch league in their second year, and then in their third, and in their fourth, and fifth, and sixth. Now that she gave Harry a closer look, she saw he was chuckling again.

As noon approached, the rumblings of their stomachs overcame their conversations, which had drifted from Quidditch to broomsticks, to finally end up on the suspected relationship between Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick. Hermione rejoined the conversation at that point and surprised both Ron and Harry by telling them that she saw Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout coming out of Greenhouse number one looking quite ruffled last May.

"I'm starving," said Ron, when his stomach gave another loud grumble. "When is the lady with the trolley going to pass?"

"Ron, we aren't on the Hogwarts Express," said Harry gently. "There won't be any lady with the trolley here."

"But someone should be passing by," said Hermione, checking her watch. "I mean we've been on this train for hours and we haven't seen anybody."

"What about eating what Mum gave us?" suggested Ron, eyeing the luggage hungrily on the luggage on the rack.

Hermione shook her head. "No, here we can find something to eat, but we don't know if we'll have time for some shopping in Godric's Hollow. We better conserve it for then," she explained.

"We won't have time for shopping? What should we do?" asked Ron, sounding anything but excited about something that could possibly distract him from eating.

"Cleaning up the house," snapped Hermione, raising a hand for preventing any reply that Ron might have given. "Anyway, if nobody passes in ten minutes, we'll go looking for the restaurant."

"Are you hungry?" asked Harry, smiling.

"Aren't you?" Hermione replied.

Harry's grumbling stomach answered for him, but Hermione didn't get a chance to laugh. As if their conversation had been overheard by someone, the door burst open a second time, and a young tall black man peered inside. "Something to eat?" he asked with a heavy French foreign accent.

"Yes, please. Two Pumpkin Pastries," said Ron, pulling out some Sickles from his pocket. "How much?"

The man looked at Ron with a mixture of impatience and surprise. "No foreign money," he growled.

"Can we have three sandwiches and three cans of iced tea?" asked Hermione gently, trying to draw the attention away from Ron.

The man nodded and glanced at Ron again before handing Hermione the things that she had ordered. "It's 7.45£."

Hermione gave him the money and waited for change. When the man closed the door of their compartment, Hermione shook her head. "Ron! It's almost like you never left the Wizarding world," she said in frustration.

Ron crossed his arms on his chest. "Is it my fault if I didn't know that Muggles don't eat Pumpkin Pastries?"

"No," conceded Hermione. "But you know that they don't use Sickles and Galleons and Knuts."

"Oh, I'm sorry Hermione. It's just that I fell asleep during your last lesson of 'How to behave in the great big bad Muggle world'," he teased.

"Yeah, I know you're always sleeping," she answered sharply.

"Oh stop it, both of you," said Harry, grinning. "Let's just eat," he added, stretching a hand towards Hermione.

She handed him one of the sandwiches and passed one to Ron as well. "I'll pay you for everything with Wizarding money, okay Hermione?" asked Ron.

Hermione waved a hand in front of him. "We've already talked about that," she said nonchalantly. "Don't think about money right now, I think that we all need to pool our money for food for the next few days." She looked at Ron and narrowed her eyes. "And I know that you asked Bill for some Muggle money, I heard you, so you have no excuse."

"Who do you think I am? I don't want you and Harry to pay for me," he said indignantly.

"I didn't mean that, Ron," she said exasperated. "You just offered to pay me with Wizarding money. I meant that instead of paying us later, you can always pay with pounds."

Ron snorted. "I don't know how to use them."

"It's not difficult," answered Hermione. "You just have to read the numbers."

"You are so difficult, Hermione," growled Ron.

"And you are so-"

"Oh please, stop it!" said Harry frustrated. "Just stop arguing for five minutes, will you?"

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry and then exchanged a look. "Right, sorry, Harry," said Hermione hastily.

"Yeah, sorry, mate," said Ron, biting his sandwich hungrily. Harry looked at him in amazement, was it possible that Ron had almost forgotten to eat while he was talking to Hermione?

"This sandwich isn't exactly great," murmured Ron, giving it another bite.

"Don't eat it then!" snapped Hermione.

"I-"

"Please!" cried Harry. "You two act just like an old married couple."

That shut both Hermione and Ron up promptly. Harry made a mental note to use that phrase every time he wanted them to stop bickering. The compartment filled with an awkward silence and a strange heat that Harry was fairly sure was coming from both Ron and Hermione's flushed cheeks. Harry popped the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth and crumpled the wrapper. He stood up, stretched his arms above his head and opened the compartment door.

"Where are you going?" asked Ron, shoving the last piece of his sandwich in his mouth as well.

"To the toilet," Harry answered, stepping into the hallway. "Don't kill each other while I'm gone, all right?" Harry grinned but neither Ron nor Hermione dared to look up at him, his previous comment still echoing in their ears. Harry thought gleefully for a moment that they might not quarrel ever again.

Ron closed the door of the compartment as Harry walked away. He turned towards Hermione but found she was once again immersed in her book. Ron wondered how could someone be so fond of a book, especially when nobody forced you to read it. Or maybe that was just that the trick. If nobody forced you, you would find the book interesting. Or maybe Hermione just finds every damn book interesting, thought Ron.

"Can I have one of those cans of iced tea?" he asked her quietly.

"Sure," answered Hermione, passing him the can. Her eyes didn't leave the book, but he was sure that she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye, expecting him to grimace at the taste of the tea. He decided to try an experiment and made a face as the first sip of tea slid down his throat.

"What's wrong now?" asked Hermione sharply.

Ron laughed and almost choked on the tea. "Nothing," he answered, spitting tea everywhere. "I just wanted to see your face."

Hermione stuck out her tongue in a very childish manner, much like Ron had earlier, and buried herself behind her book again.

"Can I let Crookshanks out?" asked Ron, tapping the cage.

Hermione shook her head.

"Come on, he's getting bored in there," said Ron, stroking the cat's fur through the bars.

"He's sleeping," Hermione insisted. "And you can't let him out, we're on a Muggle train."

"He won't do any kind of magic, I swear."

"Ron!" cried Hermione, snapping her book closed. "He has to stay in the cage. Stop teasing me and-" She snapped his hands away from the cage. "-him."

"Still fighting?" asked Harry, opening the door. "I swear, nothing stops the two of you," he added in frustration.

"It's all her fault," said Ron.

"Rubbish," Hermione retorted.

"Why there wasn't more of a queue for the toilet?" asked Harry, causing both Ron and Hermione to look at him and then burst out laughing. "Glad that you are enjoying driving me crazy. Hey, what's the time?"

Harry had to wait a couple of minutes for their laughter to fade away, but when Hermione regained her composure she checked her watch and answered him, "Almost two."

"When are we supposed to arrive?" Ron asked her.

Hermione looked at him with her eyes narrowed. "You were supposed to look that up on the timetable back at the station. You remember that, don't you?" she asked.

"Really? Did I?" he asked back. "You didn't tell me that."

"It was implied," said Hermione through gritted teeth.

"We should be at Pocklington in an hour and half," broke in Harry. "And from Pocklington to Godric's Hollow it should take us about twenty minute on foot."

"How do you know?" asked Ron, taking another sip from the can he was still holding.

"There's half a mile between the station of Pocklington and the main street of Godric's Hollow. How long do you think it'll take us?" Hermione asked.

Ron pretended to think. "Twenty minutes?"

"Such a clever boy," said Harry teasingly.

"I know," replied Ron, grinning.

The train stopped at another station and Harry declared that there were still a couple of stops before theirs. They spent the rest of the ride looking out of the window, trying to memorize the landscape that paraded in front of them. It was so similar to their journeys on the Hogwarts Express and so different at the same time.

Harry examined every single tree and street that they were passing by, wondering if this was what his parents had seen during their travel to Godric's Hollow. He doubted that they had gotten there on a Muggle train though. Someone from the Ministry probably helped them reach their destination. But if Wormtail was the only one who knew about it, who could have brought them here?

Ron was trying to look out the window and at Hermione at the same time, waiting for her to turn her head and talk to him. What's wrong with me? Why can't I just stop staring at her?

"I think we better get ready," said Hermione, bringing everybody back from their thoughts. She turned to Ron, but when she spoke he wasn't quite so pleased. "Ron can you take my suitcase down?" she asked in her sweetest tone.

Ron smiled but couldn't resist groaning. "Ouch!" he cried out as the suitcase fell on the seat next to Harry.

"Hey, pay attention, Ron," said Harry, moving a bit to make some room for the luggage.

"Sorry, Harry, did I disturb you?" he asked sarcastically.

"A bit," answered Harry, grinning and lowering his head to avoid the empty can Ron threw at him.

"So immature, mate," said Harry, imitating Hermione.

Hermione glared at them both, as she shoved her belongings back in the suitcase. "So immature, both of you," she snapped. "Better if you get ready too, there are more houses here."

Ron looked at her blankly, then turned towards Harry and said cheerfully, "Did you hear her, Harry? There are more houses, it's better if we get ready, we don't want to know what those houses will do to us if we don't get ready."

"It means that we are getting close to the city centre, Ron," she replied exasperated.

"I was just joking," he half lied. "Don't you have any sense of humour?"

"I must have a tremendous sense of humour if I can stand you all the time," she grinned in reply.

Ron pretended to be hurt. "You really are a--" But Hermione never got the chance to know what she was, for the train started to slow down, and a loud voice announced that they were going to stopping at Pocklington station.

Ron yanked his and Harry's luggage from the rack. He nearly tripped over Hermione's suitcase, but managed to open the door and hurry out of the compartment. Harry followed him with Hermione close behind.

The cold air struck their faces like a whip as they stepped onto the solitary platform at the small Pocklington station. Hermione shivered and tried to pull the blue jumper that was hanging loosely on her shoulders over her head. Ron reached to help her when she almost couldn't manage to make all her hair pass through the neck of the sweater.

"Thanks," she said, blushing from the cold air and from the feel of Ron's fingers as he touched her shoulders and waist as he pulled the sweater down. For a moment she felt an odd feeling at the bottom of her stomach, as if thousands of butterflies had just taken flight all together, and their wings were causing her head to spin and her heart to beat faster. She stepped back, and looked away, unsure if Ron had noted any reaction, and not so keen to find out.

"Sure," answered Ron, who had suddenly turned quite red himself. "Now, which way to Godric's Hollow?"

Harry picked up his luggage and walked out of the station. There was a small street there and a few feet away there was a crossing point but no cars were visible. Harry tilted his head to look up at a large sign. "Does this answer your question, Ron?" asked Harry, smiling.

Ron raised his head and looked at the sign where an arrow indicated Godric's Hollow was to their left. "Yeah, I guess it does. Better if we get moving, right?"

"Oh, now we should move, what about when I said that on the train?" asked Hermione, with her hands on her hips.

Harry rolled his eyes. How can they possibly go from blushing to bickering in less than five seconds, he wondered. "Let's just go, okay?" he snapped, a bit more rudely than he'd intended.

Ron and Hermione looked at him sheepishly. After all, he was going to see his parents' cottage and their graves in the next few days. "S-sorry, Harry," stammered Hermione, following him down the street.

"Yeah, sorry, mate," echoed Ron.

"It's okay, I just want to get there as soon as possible," said Harry, feeling rather guilty for having snapped at them. They bickered all the time, why should now be any different? Because they look like they are on holiday. We could all get killed if we stay here too long. No, we can't pretend. Harry shoved that thought to the back of his head. Hermione and Ron weren't careless, they knew perfectly well what they were going to do, and they knew that it was dangerous.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice came from some distance ahead of him.

"Lucky someone is paying attention." Ron looked concerned. "You all right?"

Harry nodded vigorously, trying to shake off the last thoughts. He rejoined his friends and started to walk down the road that should have led them to Godric's Hollow. The beginning the street was lined with typical country houses, but as they proceeded, the buildings become rarer. The skyline of the city slowly gave way to the skyline of the country. Eventually, they came across a big green sign that welcomed them to the village of Godric's Hollow.

Reading the sign, Harry felt a strange sensation at the bottom of his stomach, as if he had just tripped and missed a stair. A cold wind hit his back and made the hair at the bottom of his neck stand on end. He looked around, but the leaves on the trees were so still that they could have been part of a picture. He heard Hermione gasp softly next to him, as if that strange sensation had just struck her as well.

"Is that it?" asked Ron, looking around at what seemed nothing more than a field of sunflowers. He seemed perfectly normal.

Harry shook his head. "No," he said, taking a deep breath. He kept on walking stubbornly down the bare street. After a few minutes, the landscape started to change again. Houses started to appear back amongst to the trees. Less than a quarter of an hour later, they were walking in a small village between houses that Aunt Marge surely would have appreciated. Everything appeared to be extremely neat and tidy.

"It's a nice place," said Hermione, looking around. "Look, there's a small supermarket."

"Interesting," Harry remarked. "Do you think that this is the main street of Godric's Hollow?" he asked.

"You bet it is." A man peered at them from behind his hedge. He seemed quite old, his face was covered with wrinkles and his hair was as white as the winter snow. "This is Fond Drive, the main street, if not the only street."

"Thanks a lot," answered Harry, watching the man carefully.

The man opened his mouth as if to reply, but didn't speak. Instead he looked intently at Harry with a surprised expression. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Hermione as well, the same expression on his face. When he looked at Ron he seemed to find nothing of interest because he turned his attention back towards Hermione and Harry almost immediately. "You remind me of someone," said the man, looking from Harry to Hermione.

"Who? Me?" asked Harry.

"You and your friend," said the man, nodding towards Hermione.

Hermione and Harry exchanged a confused look. Ron stared at them, not happy to be left out of the conversation.

The man shrugged. "Have a nice day," he said and disappeared behind the hedge.

"That was interesting," said Ron. "Don't I remind him of someone, too? I mean, I am handsome and intelligent and-"

"We could have a debate on that," said Hermione, grinning.

"Yeah," confirmed Harry.

"Hey!" protested Ron. "That's not very..." His complaint trailed away as they found themselves in front of the last cottage on the street. It was a two-story cottage, with a small garden in the front, and very probably also at the back. The walls were a creamy-yellow colour and the trim around the windows was dark green. The garden looked almost like a small jungle, the path that led to the front door almost completely hidden with weeds and leaves and roots.

"Is this it?" asked Ron softly. "Do you think this is this the..."

"Yes," answered Harry and Hermione together.

Ron looked from one of them to the other. "How do you know?" he asked suspiciously.

"I don't know," answered Hermione. "I just have this strange feeling."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Me too."

"Right," said Ron calmly. "Since I don't have any kind of feeling, I think I better have a look inside." He closed the distance that separated him from the gate and placed a hand on the latch, trying in vain to open it. "I think it's bro--" Ron's sentence came abruptly to an end as a brilliant light blinded them all and some invisible force pushed him backwards.

The last thing Ron heard was Harry and Hermione screaming as his back hit the cobblestones on the street. Then everything went black.