the hallows - f. weasley

- c h a p t e r - t w e l v e -

 "Harry, Gemma, stop."

Gemma pulled to a stop sharply as Harry asked, "What's wrong?"

They hadn't even reached the gate yet when Hermione had spoken.

"There's someone there," The Granger girl murmured, "Someone watching us. I can tell. There, over by the bushes."

Gemma turned her eyes to where Hermione had nodded–gripping onto her best friends and watching the shadowy boundary of the graveyard.

"Are you sure?" Harry questioned.

"I saw something move, I could have sworn I did..." Hermione told him as she freed her wand arm.

"We look like Muggles."

"Muggles who've just been laying flowers on your parents' grave! Harry, I'm sure there's someone over there!"

Gemma flinched as something rustled, and her eyes snapped to where a little chunk of snow had fallen into a bush where Hermione had pointed.

"It's a cat," Harry concluded after a second or two, "or a bird. If it was a Death Eater, we'd be dead by now. But let's get out of here, and we can put the Cloak back on."

Adrenaline rushed through Gemma as the three hurried out of the graveyard–looking over their shoulders to watch for prying eyes.

The Cloak was on them in seconds, and soon, they passed a cheer-filled pub–louder than before–and down a dark street leading out of the village in the opposite direction from where they had entered. The cottages soon thinned out and headed out toward the country area again. Gemma glanced into the windows of houses they passed–glancing at glimmering Christmas lights before shooting looks over her shoulders.

"How are we going to find Bathilda's house?" Hermione asked after a little–her figure shivering next to Gemma's as she followed suit and looked over her shoulder repeatedly. "Harry? What do you think? Gemma?"

Without warning, Harry had grabbed both Gemma and Hermione by the wrists and were dragging them to the end of the row of houses.

Gemma nearly slipped four times on the icy pavement and would have landed flat on her face if she hadn't gotten her bearings quick enough.

"Harry—!" Hermione cried in disdain as her feet slid out from under her.

"Look...Look at it, Hermione..."

"I don't...oh!"

Gemma's stomach dropped again as she spotted the house that had been hidden with the Fidelius Charm sixteen years ago.

The house that had belonged to Lily and James Potter when they lived in Godric's Hollow.

Her eyes drew up to the right side of the top of the house–the hole of the fallen roof was covered in snow and ivy. She was sure that had to have been where the spell backfired–destroying Voldemort briefly and sending Lily and James into whatever death-like state they had been in when Violet had found them that dark night all those years ago. Gemma still had no idea how they had managed to survive the attack by the Dark Lord, and she hoped that after this was all over–the couple would explain.

But as she stared at the house, Gemma could only imagine the horror her mum felt seeing it–the roof caving in just seconds after the attack had happened.

It turned her blood cold.

Turning her eyes to Harry, she could see how pale his face had become in the dim moonlight.

She intertwined her fingers with his, and his grip was relentless as he tightened his hand around hers.

"I wonder why nobody's ever rebuilt it?" Hermione whispered–oblivious to the silent moment between the siblings.