enchanted • draco malfoy

Year 7: Godric's Hollow

Felicity's POV

We packed up the tent and set out for Godric's Hollow the next evening. A fine layer of snow dusted the ground, and street lights and Christmas decorations gave the whole place a cheery aura.

"I still think we should've used Polyjuice Potion," Hermione said uneasily. It was something we'd debated last night, but Harry eventually won by saying-

"This is where I was born. I'm not returning as someone else."

Hermione just sighed, resigned. She gave me a look but didn't argue further, simply linking her arm through Harry's. I followed suit on his other side, shivering a little in the cold air.

After a moment, Mione said, "Guys, I- I think it's Christmas Eve. Listen." She paused, and we all listened. Christmas carols were being sung in nearby buildings. joyous laughter pouring out through open and inviting doorways.

"Do you think they'd be in there? My mom and dad?" Harry asked. I teared up a little and squeezed his arm. "Yeah, I think they would."

We made our way into the singular cemetery, looking both for Harry's parents and any clues Dumbledore may have left. I trailed behind Harry, one orphaned child with another.

Finally, he stopped. In front of us was a headstone that read James Potter and Lily Potter. It had their birthdays and the date of their deaths. Again, I squeezed his arm. "Guys!" Hermione called softly. When she didn't get a response, she wandered over, stopping on Harry's other side. She knelt by the grave, withdrawing her wand and pulling a beautiful wreath out of thin air.

She stood back up, and Hermione and I both rested our heads on his shoulders. "Merry Christmas, Hermione. Merry Christmas, Felicity." He wiped his nose on the back of his glove. I smiled sadly. "Merry Christmas Harry. Merry Christmas, Hermione." Hermione linked arms with Harry again as she said, "Merry Christmas, guys."

We stood there for several minutes. Tears were streaming down my face as I realized that this would be the first Christmas I spent without Neville.

It was also the first in a while that I hadn't been speaking with or about Draco in the days leading up to it.

I tried not to think about him.

Especially as Hermione said, "There's someone watching us. By the church." I turned to look as casually as possible. "I think I know who that is," Harry murmured.

We trailed behind the figure, who'd turned around and started to walk away the second she saw us look at her. "I don't like this," Hermione said, and I had to agree. "I'm with Hermione on this one. Why isn't she just talking to us?"

Harry replied, "She knew Dumbledore, guys. She might have the sword." The woman led us through the streets of Godric's Hollow, but Harry stopped in front of a house that was more ruins than an actual house. My heart sunk as I realized where we were.

"This is where they died," Harry said roughly. "This is where he murdered them."

We stood, observing the house in all its state of haunted disrepair, when I felt rather than saw movement on my left side. I whirled, and there was the woman. I gasped, stumbling back into Hermione. "Bloody hell," I hissed, holding a hand to my chest to steady my heartbeat.

Harry didn't falter. "You're Bathilda, aren't you?" he asked her. She didn't respond, simply turning on her heel and leading us forward again. I grabbed Hermione's sleeve, holding her back as Harry willingly followed her. "I love old people, Mione, but this lady is giving me the creeps." She shrugged helplessly. "We can't let him go alone," she reasoned. I groaned as we begrudgingly caught up with Harry, following him into Bathilda's house.