Harry Potter and the War of Souls

Chapter 4

Return to Godric's Hollow

Harry knew someone would be assigned to come outside and ask if he was okay. So when Lupin stepped out and came to stand next to him, he was hardly surprised. Harry scarcely glanced at him before turning away again, staring at the dark hills on the horizon.

Lupin stood beside him, but seemed to be unsure of what to do with his hands. Finally, he stuck one in his pocket and sighed. "I know I'm not the best person to try to talk to you," he began. "Everyone who's ever been a father to you, James, Sirius, Dumbledore" - he spoke each name with an unaffected reverence - "they've been taken from you. I'm not trying to be them, don't think I could be. But I do care for you, Harry."

"Don't say that." Harry refused to look at Lupin. He had tears in his eyes and by the sound of Lupin's voice, suspected he wasn't the only one feeling emotional.

"Why not?"

"Why do you suppose each of them died? I can tell you. It's because they cared about me. They got close to me. And what happened to them, well that'll happen to you too."

"Harry." Lupin said his name gently, or perhaps cautiously. "They didn't die because they got close to you. They died because they were fighting in a war against Voldemort. Their deaths weren't your fault. They're His fault."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, maybe."

"What happened back there, with that box?"

Harry shrugged, then Lupin added, "Was it Him? Did Voldemort get to you somehow?"

Harry nodded.

"What did he want?"

"I'd rather not say."

Lupin paused for a moment, then asked, "What can I do?"

Finally, Harry turned to face Lupin. "You can teach me to fight Him."

Lupin stepped back. "What? No, I can't. Harry, you can't possibly intend to fight Voldemort."

"Intend? I never intended to so far and look where it's got us. I may as well face what's going to happen and prepare."

"I'm not qualified." Lupin stared into Harry's eyes, then with a deep breath he nodded. "But I'll do what I can."

"I'm leaving," Harry said. "I'll be gone for a while, but I'll come back. Then maybe you can help me."

"Where are you going?"

"I've got some things to take care of, that's all."

Lupin sighed. "I suppose if you wanted me to know, you'd tell me, right? Will you be back for the wedding?"

"I dunno. Apologize to everyone for me, will you?"

Lupin nodded and stepped back. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the name, "Godric's Hollow." He felt the familiar compression on his body and the momentary darkness. Then as quickly as it had begun, Harry opened his eyes and was standing in a small and quiet village surrounded by thick trees. A river was running somewhere nearby; he could hear it trickling. There were cars parked beside the road and lights on in most of the homes.

Harry hadn't thought too much about the home of his infancy. Of course, Hogsmeade was the only all-wizarding village in Britain, so it shouldn't surprise him that he was in a muggle village. But this place just looked so - normal.

"Are you lost, son?"

Harry whirled around and saw an older couple who seemed to be out walking their dog, which the man was holding tightly on a leash close to him.

"Er, no. Well, maybe. I'm looking for somebody's home, or what used to be their home."

"Who's that?"

"Some people lived there a long time ago, about sixteen years ago to be exact. The Potters."

The man and his wife looked at each other. "We've lived here for going on fifty years, and we've never heard of any Potters."

"Sixteen years ago they were killed here in their home. When they died, there was probably an explosion or a fire or something. They had a baby, who lived."

The man rubbed his chin. "Nope, doesn't ring a bell. Are you sure you're in the right place?"

Harry looked around. How foolish he was to have expected muggles to know his family or to have any knowledge about what happened. Undoubtedly, anyone who did see something would have had their memories modified. "Yeah, this is the place. I'll just look around."

The man pointed his arm north. "There's a place near here that could be what you were looking for. Don't know if I ever heard what happened to the old house, but it's never been rebuilt. If you want to check it out, just follow this street until you can't go any farther. Then go left and continue on. You'll know it's the place you're looking for when you see it."

Harry thanked them and set off at a solid run in the direction the man had aimed him. He felt almost as if invisible magnets were pulling him toward the place, toward his home. The street was longer than it had looked, however, and soon Harry was forced to slow down to first a casual jog, and as he turned to the left street, he was down to a walk. If I'm ever going to be able to defeat Voldemort, he thought wryly, I've got to get in better shape.

Beneath his feet, the paving turned to dirt, then quickly to grasses. Nobody ever comes here, Harry thought. He was moving uphill, and as he reached the top, he looked down the other side of the hill at the ruins of what had once been his home.

Harry approached it cautiously until he asked himself why he should be so concerned. Voldemort would not have been here for sixteen years. Nobody at all had been here for sixteen years.

He stepped onto the wreckage and saw the shattered remnants of a front door off to his right laying on the ground. His father had died very near the exact place of where Harry now stood. He closed his eyes and hoped to feel some of his father's spirit there. But there was nothing.

As he looked further, a thick carpet of dirt covered everything and in many places the weeds had grown over the destruction. It was impossible to tell where anything had once been or to get a feel for what his home had once been like.

Harry sat on a stack of boards and stared at what was left of his home. This is where it had happened, where everything of his life had either begun - or ended. Here is where his parents had made their last stand. They had died here, somewhere in this wreckage.

And as it always did when he was thinking of his parents, Dumbledore's description of him being saved by his mother's love came back to haunt him, to confuse him. He could understand that she had used some sort of old magic to save him, but Dumbledore seemed to believe this same love would be the key to Harry eventually defeating Voldemort. It didn't make sense.

He didn't know how long he sat there, recalling in his mind the horrible screams of his mother that the Dementors had first brought to his mind. They hurt and yet he had to hear them. He had to be here with her now in her last moments.

He might have stayed even longer except for the shadows he was sure he saw ahead in the trees. Was it death eaters, following him? He was not going to let them come. They were not allowed here. He grabbed his wand and ran towards the shadows. As he began to yell out a spell, he heard a voice from ahead. "Harry, stop! It's us."

Harry paused, and caught his breath in his throat. "Hermione?"

He took another step down and saw Hermione and Ron come out from the trees. Still shaking from adrenalin, he replaced his wand in his pocket, then asked, "What are you two - how did you know I was here?"

Ron pulled an object from his cloak with a handle on one end and a silver rod on the other. "The Friend Finder Ginny gave you. I hope you don't mind that we used it."

Of course he minded, and the scowl on his face must have revealed that. Hermione motioned to Ron to put the Friend Finder away and began to follow him back toward his house. "It's just that we didn't know where you were, Harry. And we told you at the end of school, we're not letting you do this alone."

Harry inhaled deeply and looked away. "Did Ginny come?"

"We didn't tell her what we were doing," Ron said. "We thought you'd prefer that."

Harry nodded. "She'll be furious when she finds out, though."

"When isn't she mad anymore? Honestly," Ron said, "Living with her this summer hasn't been easy."

"I bet." Harry motioned with his head for Hermione and Ron to follow him back toward his house.

"This is where it happened?" Hermione asked.

Harry pointed to the remnants of his home. "Look for yourself. There it is."

"Bloody hell, Harry. It looks like a war zone."

"I reckon it was a war zone."

"What's this?" Hermione asked. She had pushed aside a large piece of paneling. "Harry, there's a door under here." She knelt down and brushed at the door. "There's blast marks on it. We're not the first to have tried to get in here."

Ron tried to open the door but it was locked. He pulled out his wand and said, "Alohomora." He turned the handle again but it remained locked.

"That's funny," he said.

"Maybe you're doing it wrong." Hermione walked to the door and repeated the spell, but still with no result. She thought for a moment, then turned to Harry. "I wonder if you should try it."

"If you two can't open it-"

"It's your house. Just try."

Harry walked to the door and with his wand, repeated the Alohomora command. At once, there was a clicking sound and Harry opened the door.

It led down a small set of stairs to a room that looked as if it had been hastily hand dug. From the looks of it, Harry had expected it to have a damp and musty smell, but it didn't. It seemed as dry and as fresh as a field of sunflowers. There was some light coming in from above, but Harry lit his wand tip anyway as he walked down the stairs.

"What's in there?" Hermione called to him.

"I think it's some of my family's old things. There's a note.

Harry -

If you have found this note, then you've come home. I do not know

when in your life you will make it here, but I hope you will find this

a helpful visit. Hagrid prepared this room to preserve some of your

parents' valuables. Use them at your discretion.

Dumbledore.

Harry held the note for a moment before he set it on a nearby shelf. He wasn't sure what to look at first. On one shelf made from a floorboard were a handful of books. He pulled out one and opened it. There were pictures of his family inside. He was looking at a picture of him crawling towards his father who was holding out his hands to him. On the opposite page was a picture of his mother trying to feed him something in a spoon, which he kept rejecting.

"What's in the back?" Ron called from above. Harry walked over and picked up two thin boxes and opened the one on top. "I think it's one of my parents' wands." He wasn't sure whether the one he held was his mother's or his father's, but he turned it over in his hands like it was a tender blade of grass.

"This is amazing," Hermione said, leaning down so she could see in, then feeling the reverence of the moment, added, "Thanks for letting us share this with you."

Harry considered reminding them that he hadn't exactly let them share this. Rather, they had taken it upon themselves to follow him here. Still, it was nice to have his friends here. He couldn't think of anyone he'd rather have with him. He replaced the wand boxes and walked deeper into the room. There was a small box which had a man's cloak inside. He lifted it out and wrapped it around himself. The style had changed somewhat but it fit him perfectly.

"I can't believe it," Hermione said, now looking at the picture book he had handed up to her. "Harry, you really do look like your father. Except for-"

"My eyes, yes," he finished.

"Yes." She closed the book, then asked, "Is this hard for you?"

"Actually, it's wonderful," he answered. "These things, they're all part of me, of who I am. I can't believe I'm here."

"I've been thinking about your home being here, in Godric's Hollow, I mean. Do you suppose that's any relationship to Godric Gryffindor?"

"I'm sure it is," Ron said. "I don't know why it matters, though."

"I have one idea," Harry said, now in the far side of the room. "I think my parents were more than just Gryffindor students." He held an empty sword sheath with rubies on the sides and the Gryffindor crest on the front. "I know this item. Where do you suppose the sword is that belongs to this?"

Hermione looked at Harry as she whispered. "Dumbledore's office. You called it into the Chamber of Secrets."