Hope - George Potter

18 - A place of hope

George had slowly been walking along the corridor, for ages, in order to find the secret passageway. There was nothing. Neither he nor Henry had found anything in the thirty minutes they had already spent with this boring activity.

Then suddenly, when George was about to give up, the wall right next to him gave in and he found himself in darkness. He turned back to alarm Henry that he had finally found it and thankfully, the wall gave in from this side as well. It was like a rotating door.

"Henry! Look at this," he exclaimed to the other boy, who immediately ran over to him. They were extremely excited that they had actually found it.

"Too bad it's dark in there. We really need to learn a spell that can make light," Henry complained after looking inside.

George just took one of the torches in the corridor and they walked inside. They couldn't see very much even with the torch, but at least they could navigate their way through the darkness.

There was dust and spider webs everywhere and George had to sneeze several times.

The passage was so narrow that George's elbows touched the walls beside him while he was walking. Suddenly it became wider and the two boys could walk next to each other. There were stairs in front of them and they settled down on one of the steps. It was a strange atmosphere in here, an eery silence. At the same time, George felt somewhat safe, as there was noone watching him here, no other pupils, teachers or paintings. Only Henry and he were here and, judging by the state of the passageway, noone was going to come here anytime soon. It was quite peaceful in a way.

"I'm so happy we found this," George said, "it's a bit scary here, but at the same time pretty cool."

"I love discovering. I have the feeling that this castle is full of mysteries waiting to be discovered," Henry said enthusiastically.

"Do you have any secret passages in your home? What is your house like? Do you have many magical things or is it similar to a muggle household?" George asked curiously.

"I have no idea what a muggle household looks like, but probably not very much like my home. We have a lot of magic in our house, but sadly no secrets - at least that I know of."

"Where do you live again?"

"Godric's Hollow," he said with a sympathetic glance in George's direction.

"Oh, I remember, everyone knew where it was but I had never heard about it before. Is it a wizarding town or a wizarding village?"

Henry looked at him confusedly. "You don't know about Godric's Hollow?"

"Would I be asking these questions then?"

"It's just... I thought... you of all people would know about it."

"So what is it? A big secret of the wizarding world?"

"It's where all of it happened... you know," Henry said. George still didn't have a clue and Henry hated himself for building up such suspense, for making George want to know about it. "It's where your parents lived with you and Harry. It's where You-know-who came that night." It was silent for a while.

"Is there anything... left?" George's voice had become brittle. That was the place he should have grown up in, he should have had a wonderful childhood in. Maybe he would have been living right next door to Henry. It was all snatched away from him in only a few minutes. It was all destroyed on one night, this future, this hope.

"The remnants of the house are still there. Often people go there. They see it as a place of hope-"

"A PLACE OF HOPE?! A PLACE OF HOPE?! How can it be a place of hope when a man and a woman gave their lives there? Is that hope? death? How can it be a place of hope when it is a symbol of loss? For me, for Harry. Not only the loss of our parents. Our childhood, our happiness was stolen from us and you call it hope? We were only allowed little glimpses into what it felt like to be a child, a happy child. How can anyone find that hopeful? It is despair, not hope. Harry and I are despairing and the only thing that can help us is the wizarding world. But it seems like everyone in this world spits on us, on our feelings. Calling a ruin hopeful that is only the symbol of what Harry's and my life has become - a ruin," his voice gave up. He had started crying long ago. "How can a ruin be hope?" he whispered. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

Henry reached over and pulled George into a hug. At first, George just sat still, but then he allowed himself to cry into his friend's shoulder.