The Boy who lived and The Boy who survived (Drarry)

Chapter 41: Bathilda's Secret

2 years ago. December 1997. Godric's Hollow.

"Harry, there's someone watching us... by the church."

They stood quite still, holding on to each other, gazing at the dense black boundary of the graveyard. Harry could not see anything.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes ,I'm sure. I swear I did..." He sounded arrogantly sure as he broke from him to free his wand arm. Then they heard a rustle and saw a little eddy of dislodged snow in the bush to which Draco had pointed. Ghosts could not move snow.

"It's a cat," said Harry, 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."

They glanced back repeatedly as they made their way out of the graveyard. Harry, who did not feel as sanguine as he had pretended when reassuring Draco, was glad to reach the gate and the slippery pavement. They pulled the Invisibility Cloak back over themselves. The pub was fuller than before. Many voices inside it were now singing the carol that they had heard as they approached the church. For a moment, Harry considered suggesting they take refuge inside it, but before he could say anything Draco murmured, "Let's go this way," and pulled him down the dark street leading out of the village in the opposite direction from which they had entered.

Harry could make out the point where the cottages ended and the lane turned into open country again. They walked as quickly as they dared, past more windows sparkling with multicoloured lights, the outlines of Christmas trees dark through the curtains.

"How are we going to find Bathilda's house?" asked Draco, who was shivering a little and kept glancing back over his shoulder. "Harry? What do you think?"

He tugged at this arm, but Harry was not paying attention. He was looking toward the dark mass that stood at the very end of this row of houses. Next moment he sped up, dragging Draco along with him, he slipped a little on the ice.

"Harry -"

"Look... Look at it, Draco..."

"What is it... oh!" He could see it; the Fidelius Charm must have died with James and Lily. The hedge had grown wild in the sixteen years since Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble that lay scattered amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in the dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart; that, Harry was sure, was where the curse had backfired. He and Draco stood at the gate, gazing up at the wreck of what must once have been a cottage just like those that flanked it. Slowly, Harry exhaled a long sigh and rested his head on Draco's shoulder, his hand intertwining with Draco's as he squeezed back.

"I wonder why nobody's ever rebuilt it?" whispered Draco.

"Maybe you can't rebuild it?" Harry replied. "Maybe it's like the injuries from Dark Magic and you can't repair the damage?"

He slipped a hand from beneath the Cloak and grasped the snowy and thickly rusted gate, not wishing to open it, but simply so he'd some part of the house.

"Harry be careful, you might get-" Harry's touch on the gate seemed to have done it.

A sign had risen out of the ground in front of them, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it said:

On this spot, on this night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry James Potter, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse.

This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family. And all around these neatly lettered words, scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still others had left messages. The most recent of these, shining brightly over sixteen years' worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things. Good luck, Harry, wherever you are. If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you! Long live Harry Potter.