A fairly loud crack follows our appearance in Godric's Hollow and when I open my eyes, I see a light fall of snow trickling down from the clouds. There's a layer of snow covering the ground and apart from the cool wind in the air, there is no movement. The streets are practically empty. Attached to the walls are some lit up Christmas lights, which elicits a silent inhale from myself as I realise how long we've been hunting Horcruxes for, if it's not December.
"I still think we should've used Polyjuice Potion," Hermione whispers, but Harry adamantly shakes his head. "No. This was where I was born. I' m not returning as someone else." A nearby church bell starts to chime as Harry offers his right arm to Hermione, which she takes, and his left hand to me. I give him a smile, take his hand and we start walking through the small village.
As the three of us walk together, we hear a few drunken wizards stumble out of a nearby pub and as Harry laughs with Hermione about it, my ears perk up at the sound of carols.
Christmas carols.
"I think it's Christmas Eve," I gasp, stopping in my tracks. Harry and Hermione give me a look, so I motion towards the small church in front of us, where the room inside is lit up and through the stained glass windows, angelic voices can be heard singing familiar Christmas carols. For a moment, we just stand in the middle of the street, listening to the singing. Then, I realise that Harry's eyes are focused on the graveyard outside the church, a sad yet hopeful look in them.
"Aurora... do you think they'd be in there? My mum and dad?" He asks, clenching my hand slightly tighter. I smile sadly at him, before nodding. "I think they would be." He lets go of my hand and starts to walk inside, so I follow behind him, Hermione walks in with my but then turns a different way.
I continue walking through the graveyard, my shoes crunching underneath the fluffy snow, until I see Harry stop in his tracks, facing one gravestone. When I reach his side, I can instantly sense the overwhelming sadness in him. The gravestone is scuffed, scratched and worn away in places, but one part of it can be read: In loving memory of James Potter, Lily Potter'.
I look up at Harry to see silent tears rolling down his cheeks, his lips trembling subtly. An idea clicks in my head, so I pull out my wand and kneel down in front of the gravestone. Aiming at the bottom of the stone, I create a circular motion with my wand and create a wreath of leaves and lilies, plus some roses sprout from underneath the snow.
As I stand back up, I see a very small but noticeable smile. I give him a smile back and take his hand, before I ask if I can tell them something. I get a very confused look as a response, but he nods his head. I turn back to face the gravestone, snowflakes starting to fall thicker and faster.
"Mr and Mrs Potter, your son has changed my life and I wouldn't change it for the world. You would both be incredibly proud and I hope that somehow, you've been able to watch him grow into the kind, brave and loving boy that he is today. I'll never get to meet you, but I know I would have loved meeting you both. I promise to love and protect your son the best that I can."
When I look up, I see a proud smile on Harry's face as more tears fall off his cheeks. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me close, tightly embracing me. "Thank you," he whispers before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head. Footsteps behind us indicate Hermione's presence and she walks around to Harry's side, leaving her head on his shoulder and looking at the now decorated gravestone.
"Merry Christmas, Aurora. Merry Christmas, Hermione," Harry says to both of us, as people from inside the church start to leave. "Merry Christmas, Harry," we both reply, all of us glad to be with someone on Christmas, even if it's not who we'd ideally prefer.
As we stand in the snow, I see Hermione glance to the side and inhale slightly, confusing me as she turns around. In an extremely hushed voice, she whispers, "Guys, there's someone watching us. By the church." I try not to obviously react, so I calmly look to my left with Harry and true to Hermione's word, there's a hunched, old woman stood outside the church.
Just watching us.
When she sees me and Harry spot her, she starts to shuffle around and leaves the graveyard, just as Harry comments that he thinks he knows who she is. We decide to slowly follow her to find out more.
"I don't like this, Harry," Hermione states, nerves in her voice. Harry tries to reassure her, claiming that this woman knew Dumbledore and therefore, might have the Sword of Godric Gryffindor. As we walk, my eyes glance to a nearby house and my body freezes to a stiff halt. I feel Harry's hand slip from mine and I hear him go to voice his concern for my pause, until he sees what I'm looking at.
A small cottage like house, slightly on the slant, that appears semi-burned or destroyed. The gate leading to the house has become significantly rusty, there's no sign of life in the front garden and a distinct eeriness surrounds the building.
"This is where they died, Aurora," Harry utters, his voice severely monotonous, "this is where he murdered them." I reach for his hand and go to whisper something in his ear, but we all turn around sharply to see the woman standing in front of us. "You're Bathilda, aren't you?" Harry asks as Hermione reaches for my free hand, a small tremble in her skin. I grab it and give her a reassuring smile, telling her it's going to be okay.
The woman doesn't say anything as she turns around and continues walking down the street, the three of us feeling a somewhat possessive urge to follow.
So we do.