[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. ]
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–"
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Hermione Granger and the Theft of Magic
Fanfiction(AU) Hermione's biggest worries in life are her dissertation and her rent, at least until she drunkenly takes a stick from a green-eyed stranger and breaks what she thought were the laws of physics. Now she's facing a high-stakes, impossible test, b...
