Harry Potter and the Serpent's Eye by Marauder9744
Chapter Notes: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed thus far! I can’t tell you how glad I am that so many of you are enjoying my story! As always, I’d like to thank my beta, LucyLupin, who has done an awesome job with this story “ I couldn’t do it without you, Lucy. Hope everyone likes this next chapter!
Chapter 13 - Harry, Ron and Hermione travel to Godric’s Hollow; Harry is forced to cope with more than he originally bargained for; much to his dismay, Harry discovers that he, Ron and Hermione have been followed by some old friends.
Harry and Ron awoke early the following morning, and both looked at the rain-splattered window as soon as they did so.
“I can already tell this is going to be a fantastic day,” groaned Ron sarcastically, hearing a clap of thunder overhead. “When are we leaving?”
“Not until dusk, that should give us a bit more freedom in how we move around. Godric’s Hollow is a Muggle village after all,” replied Harry, climbing out of his bed and digging through his trunk to find something to wear.
“Do you know where we’re going, exactly?”
“Not exactly. I reckon we’ll give Hermione some research to do in the library… ask her to find out where Godric’s Hollow is,” Harry replied with a small smirk, as he pulled on a pair of old jeans.
“Good idea, mate “ it can be her early Christmas present.”
Harry and Ron left their room and walked down the hall to make sure that Hermione was awake. Harry knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she called.
Harry opened the door and saw that she was sitting cross-legged in her bed, with her new copy of The Standard Book of Spells in her lap.
“Is it time for breakfast already?”
Harry nodded his head and he saw her dog-ear a page of the textbook that was at least a hundred pages in.
“How long have you been reading that?” Ron asked, falsely casual.
“All night,” she answered, turning a delicate shade of pink and getting up off her bed. “It’s absolutely fascinating “ I can’t thank you enough, Ron.”
She stood on tiptoe and gave him another kiss on the cheek, much as she had done the previous night. Harry watched in amusement as, much like the previous night, Ron touched the spot where she had kissed him.
“Did you find anything interesting in your book?” Harry asked, as they made their way down the staircase.
“Oh, loads!” she said, jumping in the air out of excitement. “There are so many interesting spells.”
“Is the Bat-Bogey Hex in there?” asked Ron, looking hopeful.
“I think so.”
“Wicked, I’ve wanted to try that out on Ginny for ages “ give her a taste of her own medicine, you know.”
Hermione shook her head, looking slightly exasperated, but smiled none the less.
When they entered the kitchen, they saw that Mrs. Weasley had prepared a spectacular breakfast for them, consisting of kippers, eggs, bacon and three warm bowls of porridge.
They ate in peace, except for Ron, who had a piece of bacon he was trying to eat snatched from his hand by a leaping Crookshanks. Ron swore loudly at this and earned a sharp smack on the back of his head from Mrs. Weasley.
“That bloody cat has it in for me,” he said, once they had finished breakfast and walked into the sitting room.
“He’s a cat, Ron, how could he have it ‘in for you’?” retorted Hermione, folding her arms across her chest.
“I dunno… he just does.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and stalked off up to her room, shaking her head.
“Couldn’t last three hours without arguing with her, could you?” asked Harry, smiling and rolling his eyes.
“Crookshanks started it,” Ron answered matter-of-factly.
“If that’s the best defence you’ve got, mate, you’re not gonna win many battles.”
* * *
Harry spent much of the morning alone in his room. Ron popped in and out occasionally, as he packed most of what the three of them would need, and Hermione remained in her room, probably still a little upset at Ron.
Harry knew that there was a lot of other things that he could be doing, probably should be doing, but he was doing his best to prepare for what he was going to have to face later that night. He had always wanted to see his parent’s gravesite, although he had never voiced this wish to anyone. Once Dumbledore had died, however, he felt, that for some strange reason, he had to see his parents’ graves.
He didn’t think that this trip would help him in his Horcrux hunt much, as he had read through Regulus’ notebook countless times in the past month and not once did he see any mention of Godric’s Hollow “ nor did he see any mention of any other possible hiding places for Horcruxes, for that matter. He was slightly worried about this, but not as worried as he was about not knowing where Godric’s Hollow was.
He didn’t want to ask anyone, least of all Mr. Weasley or Lupin, for he knew that if he asked them, then they would obviously realise where they were going and would, more than likely, follow them there.
As midday approached, and the storm clouds and sounds of thunder outside grew more and more threatening, Harry decided that he should go find Hermione to ask if she wouldn’t mind helping him research the location of Godric’s Hollow.
He walked up the stairs and opened her bedroom door slowly and found her completely immersed in The Standard Book of Spells once again. Instead of interrupting her, Harry placed his arm on the wall to support his weight and merely waited until she noticed him.
“Completely fascinating,” she muttered to herself, flipping the page. “I love you, Ron Weasley.”
Harry’s arm instantly slipped off the wall and he came crashing down onto the floor with a loud thud! Hermione shrieked loudly and whipped her head around to see Harry in a heap on the floor.
“Oh, Harry,” she said, rushing forward and helping him up, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
Her face instantly turned pink and she looked at him, her eyes wide.
“How… um… how long were you standing there?”
“Just got here,” Harry lied, not feeling the need to embarrass Hermione, “I was hoping you could help me out with something.”
Hermione looked at him quizzically.
“We need to find Godric’s Hollow.”
Hermione stared at him, her mouth slightly open.
“You mean you don’t know where Godric’s Hollow is?”
Harry shook his head. She looked at him, with a scared look in her eye.
“Well, of course I’ll help “ it’s going to be hard to get to Godric’s Hollow if we don’t know where it is.”
Harry bit back his retort and followed her out of her room and into the library.
* * *
“Harry… this is very strange,” said Hermione from the top of the ladder, “I can’t find one mention of Godric’s Hollow “ not even in the Wizard’s Atlas.”
Harry and Ron both looked up at her from their seats and Harry was easily able to detect the worried tone in her voice.
“That’s impossible… how could Godric’s Hollow not be in an Atlas?” Ron said disbelievingly.
“Well, if you “”
“It could be Unplottable,” Harry said, cutting off Hermione in an effort to divert another pointless argument.
“Yeah,” Ron replied immediately, “that’ll be it.”
“In that case, how much do you know about Godric Gryffindor, Hermione?” Harry asked.
“Well, if you remember, according to the Sorting Hat, Gryffindor was from ‘wild moor'.”
“How does she remember stuff like that?” Ron whispered, only loud enough for Harry to hear, and Harry chose not to answer.
“The only moors that I know of are in the north, near Yorkshire,” Hermione continued, flipping the pages of the Wizard’s Atlas she was holding. “Here we are… um… oh goodness, there are hundreds of them.”
Harry heard her run off a list of names, but he wasn’t really paying any attention.
“… Rombalds Moor, Ilkley Moor, Emley Moor…”
“Hold on, what was that last one?” asked Ron, a slightly glazed look falling over his face.
“Emley Moor?”
“No, no, the other one.”
“Ilkley Moor?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. There’s a Quidditch pitch near there.”
Hermione glared angrily at him.
“This is no time to be thinking about Quidditch, Ron, honestly…”
“No, hold on,” he said, and he ran from the room.
Hermione and Harry shared a bewildered glance before Ron came hurrying back into the room, two small books in his hand.
“I know I’ve heard that name before,” he said, opening the book and quickly scanning through the pages. “Here it is… yeah, there’s a Quidditch Stadium on Ilkley Moor. Now, let’s see… Bowman Wright.”
He tossed the first book aside and picked up the other one “ this one Harry recognised.
“Isn’t that…?”
“Quidditch Through the Ages,” answered Ron, now flipping through the pages of this book. “Ah ha… I knew it!”
Hermione looked at Harry, her eyes wide and a sceptical look on her face.
“You knew what?” she asked, sounding annoyed.
“I knew that I’d heard of Ilkley Moor before, it turns out that there’s a Quidditch pitch, on that moor, where a bloke by the name of Bowman Wright worked,” Ron answered.
“Bowman Wright? Do you mean the…” started Harry but he was cut off.
“Yes, the inventor of the Golden Snitch. According to Quidditch Through the Ages, he lived in Godric’s Hollow, and according to these dates, he lived in Godric’s Hollow while he worked at the Quidditch pitch on Ilkley Moor. Which means…”
“Godric’s Hollow must be near Ilkley Moor,” said Hermione with an air of incredulity in her voice. “Ron, you’re a… a… a…”
“Genius, I know,” he replied, a large smile playing across his face.
* * *
Harry, Ron and Hermione left the library in a hurry to finish packing their things, which had, in the last month, scattered all across the house. Harry finished collecting most of his things rather quickly and walked over to the window to inspect the weather. He was sorry to see that the rain and wind had picked up furiously; the bedroom window rattled slightly in its frame.
He breathed a heavy sigh and walked over to Hedwig, who was happily asleep in her cage.
“You better stay inside tonight,” he said, gently stroking the top of Hedwig’s head. She turned her head slightly and hooted softly. “Sorry, but once the weather lets up, meet us at the Three Broomsticks.”
Ron came bustling into the room carrying a pile of his clothes and threw it into his trunk.
“I can’t find my trainers anywhere. I bet that bloody cat…” he trailed off mid-sentence after seeing Harry’s annoyed look. “Er… I probably left them somewhere.”
He hurried back out of the room.
Harry stood, for a long while, at the window, listening to the rain splatter on the windowpanes. Am I ready for this? he thought. He wasn’t sure how he was going to react upon seeing his parents’ graves, or his childhood home. He tore his gaze away from the window and noticed Hermione standing in the doorway.
“Harry, are you all right?” she asked quietly.
He nodded but didn’t say anything. She seemed to take the hint and didn’t push him.
“Mrs. Weasley wants us to have something to eat before we leave,” she said, “are you coming down?”
Harry nodded again, and followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Harry didn’t eat much during dinner, and only put something in his stomach when Mrs. Weasley insisted.
After dinner, Harry stopped Lupin from going upstairs and instead steered him into the sitting room.
His wish not to tell anyone where he was going was not going to last much longer, as he did need to know where in Godric’s Hollow his parents’ house was.
Before Harry could open his mouth, however, Lupin cut him off.
“Number 17, Chelsea Street,” he said, staring into the fire and not looking directly at Harry.
Harry didn’t ask how Lupin knew where he was going.
“I haven’t told anyone else, but please, Harry, be careful. Godric’s Hollow is, as I trust you know, a Muggle village, so try your best to stay out of sight. The Ministry placed a charm on… what remains of your parents’ house making it impossible for Muggles to see, so the site should have remained somewhat undisturbed.”
Harry nodded his head, not quite knowing what to say.
“If something happens, Harry, let us know and we’ll be at your side in only a moment.”
Lupin turned his gaze towards Harry, his face pale.
“Their graves are in row two of the town cemetery.”
He gave Harry the feeblest of smiles and walked back into the kitchen.
* * *
“Harry, dear, you will be careful, won’t you?” Mrs. Weasley asked, as Harry, Ron and Hermione prepared to set out.
“Of course,” he answered, giving her a small smile as she pulled him in for a hug.
“When do you expect to be back?” Mr. Weasley asked, pulling his wife gently off Harry.
“We’re not sure, probably not for a while, though,” Harry answered, a twinge of guilt erupting in his chest for not being completely forthcoming with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
“Don’t worry, Dad, we’ll be in touch,” said Ron, giving his father a rather awkward one-armed hug.
Mrs. Weasley turned and hugged Hermione and Ron before letting them go as well. Harry led them to the front door.
“Be careful,” called Mrs. Weasley, her voice shaking slightly.
With one last fleeting look back at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry opened the door and stepped out into the raging gale. They walked a few yards from the front door before stopping, each of them clutching their now rain-soaked cloaks against their faces.
“Hopefully it won’t be raining once we get up to Godric’s Hollow!” yelled Ron optimistically, yet barely audible to Harry through the wind.
“Ready!” Harry called, once he was confident that there were no Muggles who might see them. “One… two… three!”
Harry, once again, felt the usual feeling of Apparation and he soon appeared on a grassy hill, near a gravel road, overlooking a tiny town below him. Unfortunately, the rain was even fiercer here than it had been in London.
“Let’s go,” Harry called, once Ron and Hermione had appeared next to him.
He pulled his cloak tightly around his face and set off down the gravel road.
He said nothing to Ron or Hermione as they walked down the road, but a wave of emotion was flooding through him and a sense of foreboding had gripped him.
The road curved down the hill, through a grove of trees, for about a mile or so until it opened up into a quaint little town. Harry looked at a sign next to the road that read simply, Welcome to Godric’s Hollow.
Harry pointed to the sign and kept moving down the street, noticing that there was no one to be seen, more than likely due to the heavy rain.
The street ended at easily the largest building in the area, an ancient looking two-story structure with a sign next to it that read, Godric’s Hollow Inn. Below this, there was a Vacancy sign that was blowing in the wind.
Harry nodded his head towards the Inn and he was sure that Ron had let out a sigh of relief, but it was difficult to tell.
Harry led Ron and Hermione down the street and into the front hall of the Inn. There was a staircase directly in front of them and a room off to the right. The room was small, with dark red wood floors and a single chandelier that hung in the centre of the ceiling. Harry noticed a tiny receptionist’s desk on the left of the front room’s entrance and a quaint tearoom in the far corner where a young couple sat sipping tea. Harry, Ron and Hermione shook off their wet clothes and walked up to the front desk, where a plump, dark-haired woman was looking at them questioningly.
“May I help you?” she asked when they reached the desk, staring incredulously at Ron, who was busy dumping water out of his shoes into a nearby potted plant.
“Yes, I hope you can,” answered Hermione, throwing Ron a furious look and taking charge. “We’re looking for a room to spend the night.”
“We do have a room available “ will two double beds be sufficient?”
“Yes, thank you,” answered Hermione.
They finished the transaction when Hermione paid the woman in Muggle money that she had, thankfully, been smart enough to bring with her. Once Hermione had been given her change and their room key, she stepped back from the counter and Harry looked up at the woman.
“We’re looking for Chelsea Street,” he said.
“Ah, yes, you go left out of the Inn and take the fourth left onto Chelsea,” she answered smiling.
“Thanks,” Harry replied, and he turned to lead Ron and Hermione back out into storm.
“We’re going there now, Harry?” asked Ron, who evidently had been hoping to bypass another trek through the downpour.
Harry didn’t bother to nod as he continued out the front door, but within a moment, both Ron and Hermione were at his side once more.
They left the warm Inn and set off down the street just as the receptionist had told them. They passed the entrance to the cemetery, but Harry made no mention of it, knowing that he would have to deal with those emotions all too soon. They made a left onto Chelsea Street and saw that it ended in a cul-de-sac that seemed to lead up into the woods. They bowed their heads against the driving wind and rain and headed down the street.
“This has to be it, Harry!” yelled Hermione, through the wind.
Harry looked in front of him, at the last slot of land on the left. This was Number 17, Chelsea Street, this was where he had been born… this was where his parents were murdered.
He walked past the waist-high stone wall that ran parallel to the plot of land.
What he stood looking at were the remains of what must have been a nicely-sized, two-story cottage. Two trees flanked either side of the house and countless leaves that had fallen from the two trees now littered the front walk. He stepped up the front walk, leaves blowing in the wind all around him.
A doorframe, which must have belonged to the front door, and the remnants of a fireplace were the two tallest structures left standing. Everything else had been reduced to rubble and now littered the ground. Harry stepped up the front steps and walked through the front door frame, his heart in his throat.
He turned to see Ron and Hermione standing on the front walk, not knowing whether or not to follow him. He shook his head, and was sure that if it had not been for the weather, he would have heard a whimper from Hermione.
Harry stepped further on into the house and walked into what he imagined would have been the sitting room, the lump in his throat growing.
Was this where his parents had sat peacefully on Halloween, not knowing that it would be their last night together?
He walked on further.
Maybe this is where I took my first step, he thought. Maybe this is where I said my first word.
He wondered what his first word could have been; yet he knew he would never know the answer. The lump in his throat was now boulder-sized.
He walked a little further… was this where Voldemort murdered my Dad?
Harry walked further still “ this time stepping out of the rubble and into what he thought might have been the back yard.
Harry glanced at the wet ground and saw a flash of silver, illuminated by the lightning overhead. He reached down and picked up a small, muddy silver locket.
This must have been my Mum’s, he thought, now doing his best to quell the pain he was feeling.
Harry pocketed the locket and looked up into the backyard. He saw a tyre swing hanging on the limb of a nearby tree and had to turn away quickly.
He retraced his steps back through the wreckage of his childhood home and back through the front door frame. Hermione had her head buried into Ron’s shoulder “ Harry was sure she was crying. Ron looked at Harry and gave him a grim nod.
Harry nodded back and walked back down the street, away from the house and towards the cemetery that he had passed earlier. He noticed Ron and Hermione following him and, in spite of himself, he smiled. He reached the gate to the cemetery and opened it, the rusty metal creaking loudly through the howling wind.
The rain lashed at his body as he walked to the second row and turned left, following it to the end and stopping in front of two graves “ one read simply: Lily Potter 1959-1981, the other: James Potter 1959-1981.
Harry knelt down in between the two graves and reached into his drenched robes.
Harry pulled out a small flower, a lily, and placed it atop his mother’s grave.
“Thanks, Mum.”
Is that all you can say? he thought bitterly. She gave her life, willingly, so you could live and all you can say is thanks?
Harry felt sick to his stomach “ he turned his gaze towards his father’s grave.
“Hi, Dad,” he said, the boulder-sized lump in his throat pushing heavily against his Adam’s apple. “I saw the… the tyre swing in the back yard and….”
He tried to say more but nothing came out. He could hear a clap of thunder overhead and he saw the flash of lightning. Harry could feel tears now streaming down his face, mixing with the rainwater. He put his head down and held it in his hands.
Hermione was at his side in a moment. She grabbed him and held him close to her, gently smoothing his hair. The tears were flowing freely now, and Harry buried his head in Hermione’s shoulder, not wanting to show his face.
“Come on, Harry, let’s get you back to the Inn “ you’re shivering,” said Hermione, lifting Harry to his feet.
Ron rushed over to his side and let Harry lean against his shoulder.
“We’ve got you, mate,” he said.
They steered Harry, who was trying unsuccessfully to dry his face, but was now shivering uncontrollably, back towards the Inn.
Harry finally felt warmth around him and concluded that they must have reached the Inn. He looked around and saw the receptionist and the young couple they had seen earlier, huddled around the front desk.
“Oh dear… what happened?” called the receptionist, but Hermione merely waved her off and continued leading Harry towards the stairs.
Hermione guided Harry down the hall and up one flight of stairs until they reached their room.
“I’ve got it, Hermione,” Harry said, trying to squirm out of her grasp. She, however, did not let go of him until they got into the room and put him down on one of the beds.
“I’m fine,” he said, not looking at either Ron or Hermione, who stood nervously in front of him. They glanced at each other quickly and then back at him, a worried look in both of their eyes.
“Look, I’m fine! I don’t need you to feel sorry for me or anything like that “ I wanted to come and see this on my own! You shouldn’t have come anyway, you don’t understand,” Harry said, his words filled with bitterness.
Ron stared at him, a mixture of fear and pain on his face. Hermione looked close to tears again.
“I’m sorry, Harry, I just….” But her words trailed off at the look on Harry’s face.
“Just leave me alone,” Harry said, turning over onto his side, facing away from Ron and Hermione.
* * *
Harry awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of thunder. He sat up slightly and noticed that he was in his bed, alone. Harry checked his watch and noticed that it was only half past twelve “ he’d only been asleep for a few hours.
He turned over and saw Hermione asleep in her bed and Ron, snoring loudly as usual, asleep in a nearby chair. Harry felt a pang of guilt as he looked between his two best friends.
He really hadn’t meant to yell at them “ he needed them, and Ginny, more than anything. Ginny “ he wished she were here to hold him, comfort him… kiss him.
Smiling slightly, Harry got out of bed and suddenly realised that he was very thirsty. He walked over to the nearby sink and turned the taps… nothing happened.
“Perfect,” he muttered to himself.
He almost walked back to get his wand and use it to Conjure a glass of water but choose against it.
I could use a walk anyway, he thought to himself.
Harry walked out of the room and down the stairs, planning on going down to the small tearoom that he had seen earlier.
Harry reached the bottom of the stairs and was about to turn into the front room when he heard a very familiar voice coming from around the corner. He stopped immediately and listened intently.
“I said… where is the boy? We know he and his friends are here,” said the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Harry peered carefully around the corner, cursing himself for leaving his wand in the room, and saw Bellatrix standing at the front desk, her wand pointed at the throat of the receptionist.
Both Bellatrix and the receptionist were surrounded by six Death Eaters, all of whom had their faces covered.
“Ma… Ma… Madam, please,” the receptionist begged, her voice quivering.
“Answer the question!” Bellatrix shrieked.
“I… I… I don’t know who or what you’re talking about.”
Bellatrix screwed up her face in furry.
“Avada Kedavra!” she yelled, and the front room was illuminated in a brilliant flash of green light.
“No matter, Bella,” said a raspy-voiced Death Eater at her side “ it sounded almost like a low growl. Harry saw him seize a book that was on the other side of the front desk and hand it to Bellatrix.
“Ah, ha,” she exclaimed, scanning the book, “it seems Potter and his friends checked in not long ago “ upstairs, room 212, let’s go.”