Chapter Six: The Village
The village of Godric's Hollow had long been known as a sort of haven for squibs. As such, it had a petrol station, grocery store, a single screen cinema, and a small community pool. Most of the population owned cars, with a few broomsticks here and there. Although it was legal for Squibs to fly broomsticks, most of those at Godric's Hollow seemed to prefer the ways of life that they had been raised to know; that is to say, they acted more like Muggles than wizards in most respects.
Sean Xavier was one of these Squibs. He had been raised as a Muggle, even though his mother was a witch and all of his brothers were wizards. His father was Muggle-born, and had enough common sense to realize it would be better for Sean to grow up without a dependency on magic, since he couldn't use it.
Sean, like many of the Squibs in the village, some of whom were in his extended family, had been employed as part of the domestic staff at Potter Manor. In Sean's case, he was hired for his culinary skills. Although Sean's mother could never understand how Sean managed to make better desserts than her, when she had the benefit of magic and he did not, she did realize that her son had a gift, and sent him of to culinary school to learn to be a chef.
Sean had returned home from school just in time to celebrate Bonfire Night with his family and the rest of the village. Bonfire Night was marked by the occupants of Godric's Hollow by an all-day picnic, games, and fireworks.
It was at the party that Sean met the Potters.
Lily and James Potter had been happy to present their new baby son, only three months old at the time, to Sean. James had been friends with Sean when they were younger, but then James went off to Hogwarts, and Sean to culinary school.
Their baby son, Harry, had been having a bit of a temper tantrum. James was shooting guilty looks at his wife while Lily berated him for passing Harry around to too many people. Apparently, Harry didn't care much for being fussed over.
Sean had offered to take Harry off their hands so they could get something to eat. They gratefully accepted, and Sean had spent several enjoyable moments playing with Harry, who kept trying to eat his fingers.
Lily and James had returned to Sean's table with plates full of food. James seemed to be particularly enjoying a trifle that Sean himself had made that morning, as an offering for the buffet.
The talk turned to their activities of recent years, and Sean laughed aloud at the stories James told of his adventures with the Marauders. Sean then told James of his experiences at culinary school, and Lily mentioned that their cook had retired recently, and she had little time to cook, being so busy with the baby.
James had chosen that moment to say, "Well, if Sean can make a trifle half as good as whoever made this one, we may just have to hire him as a replacement." He gestured at his empty plate.
Sean turned red. "Actually…"
*
So Sean had been hired that very night. He was happier than he could have ever hoped; his family was close by, the work wasn't hard, he was paid handsomely, and he particularly enjoyed the time when Harry started eating solid food, and he made up his own recipes for the baby's enjoyment.
Sean could remember vividly the night it all ended.
Albus Dumbledore had showed up at the Manor one night, unannounced and with a face so grave it could only mean bad news.
Sean had showed him into the library, before going to rouse James, who had retired early that night.
James stayed in the library with Dumbledore for several hours. Sean had paced outside, wondering what was going to happen. His own principles forbade him from eavesdropping, so he settled for chewing his fingernails instead.
Just when he thought he might have to start on his toenails to keep from losing his mind, James emerged from the library, his face pale.
Dumbledore had left in a hurry, as if ashamed to be there any longer than he had to be. James started off down the hall to his and Lily's room. He staggered and fell against the wall. Sean hurried to help him, and was surprised when James waved him away.
"Gather the staff in the drawing room. I'll be there in five minutes time."
Sean had hurried to do as he was bidden, wondering what had happened.
Fifteen minutes later, he found out.
"I have just been told that the Dark Lord, Voldemort, has marked myself, Lily, and Harry for death." James told the assembled staff.
Several of the maids gasped and started crying. Thomas Manning, Sean's cousin and the gardener for the estate, stepped forward.
"He'll have to get through me first." He growled, brandishing a pair of pruning shears that no one could remember ever seeing him without.
James glanced at him sternly over his glasses.
"You'll do no such thing as what you're thinking, Thomas. The same goes for all of you," he pronounced, looking at the assembly.
"I know that he will kill you all without a second thought if you stood in his way. I cannot allow that to happen."
He took a deep breath, and Sean could tell that it was taking all his willpower not to break down before he finished.
"The Manor will be protected by the Fidelius charm, and I already have someone in mind for our secret keeper." He smiled, and Sean knew immediately he was referring to Sirius Black. "The restrictions of the charm are such that once it is placed into effect, not even the villagers will be able to see the Manor or tell anyone where it is. It will simply be as if our house disappeared overnight.
"However, if Voldemort manages to get through it, and I wouldn't be surprised if he found a way, you all would also be in danger. Therefore I see fit," his voice broke, and he looked at the floor, composing himself before finishing. "I see fit to dismiss you all, until further notice."
The maids broke down in tears then. Thomas was staring at the floor, his shoulders shaking. Sean knew there were tears on his face too, and James was openly crying.
"You may serve me and my family, yet I've never thought of you as servants. I've always thought of you as friends who just happen to wait on us. I will miss you all dearly, and who knows, maybe someday…" He couldn't finish. It would only have been a promise that, if broken, would be that much more painful to bear.
So Sean had left, his last image of the Potters was Lily standing in the front hall, holding Harry, who was smiling and saying, "Coo" over and over. (he couldn't say "Cook" yet.) while James held the door for him. Sean had turned to James as he left, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. James tried to speak, found he couldn't, and held out his hand. Sean took it, and pulled James close for a brotherly hug. Then he turned, and stepped out of Potter Manor for the last time, the sounds of Harry's laughter in his ears.
*
Now, fifteen years later, Sean stood at the gate to the Manor. The Fidelius charm had been removed by the ministry officials. There were some of the opinion that the Manor should be made into a kind of museum, and Sean had been disgusted to hear one official describe in great detail the money that could be made from people who wanted to see the place where the Dark Lord met his downfall. Sean, luckily, had been appointed by the Potter's in their will as caretaker, at least until Harry came of age, which meant he called the shots as to what would happen to the house. He had promptly locked the place up, and spent the next few weeks stationed outside the gates, chasing off souvenir hunters with a pitchfork, some from as far away as Australia.
He had hid the keys to the manor in a strongbox under his kitchen floor, put the key to the box on a chain around his neck, and hadn't removed it, not even for a minute, for fourteen long years.
Until a few days ago.
He had awoken to the sound of an owl rapping on his bedroom window. Sean could count the number of times this had happened on one hand, so he had leapt out of bed immediately and dashed to the window. The owl had almost taken flight at the sight of a middle-aged, half-dressed man rushing headlong at it, but Sean had managed to get the letter of its leg before it hastily took off.
Sean had been amazed at the contents of the letter. He could hardly believe that he was going to see Harry again. He had followed Harry's life, (by and large) by Daily Prophet subscriptions, but hadn't believed most of it, until he saw the Quibbler article. Dumbledore had included in his letter a true account of Harry's activities at Hogwarts over the past six years, and Sean couldn't help but imagine what James's reaction would have been if he knew what his son had been up to.
Immediately after reading the letter, Sean raced to the kitchen and pried up the wooden floorboards. The box was still there, as he knew it would be. With shaking hands, he unlocked it and removed the ring of keys from within. Fingering the set of ancient keys, Sean felt relieved and grateful that he finally had the chance to return them to their rightful owner.
He sat at the table, and began to write a very special letter, to a certain boy he had not seen for so long…
*
Harry was first to spot the village.
This was hardly surprising, since Hermione had her face buried in is back once more. She was breathing deeply, and if she had not had him in such a tight embrace, he might have believed her to be asleep.
He shrugged his shoulders to get her attention. Hermione looked up and gasped. She knew that the village was largely populated by Squibs, but she hadn't expected the village to look so, well, Muggle.
Harry landed on a grassy area near the petrol station. He inhaled deeply and stared around, pushing his hair away from his eyes. Hermione noticed he looked thoughtful, and she had a pretty good idea of what was going through his mind.
This place might have been his home, if… She didn't need to finish the thought.
Harry looked around. They were on the very edge of the village, the petrol station being the last building lining the road that stretched off into the distance. Along this road there was also a grocery store, an ice cream parlor, a clothing store, and a building that looked like it may have been either a church or the town hall, because it had a steeple and a bell tower.
Harry mounted his broom again, and, before Hermione could say anything, kicked off, rising into the air until he could see over the rooftops.
The village of Godric's Hollow lay spread out before him. Aside from the street he had just taken off from, there were many others, lined with houses and smaller shops. He could see a large flat building off to the east, with a sign that he could read even from here, proclaiming G.H. Community Pool.
There was only one building he couldn't see.
Harry landed gently and turned to Hermione.
"Where's my house?"
Hermione stepped closer to him.
"You couldn't see it?"
Harry shook his head.
"Sean said it was a manor, so I expected it to stand out in some way. But the only houses I saw look just like the ones on Privet Drive."
Hermione turned on her heel and started toward the petrol station. Harry followed her, clearly bewildered.
"Hermione, where are you going?"
She half-turned to answer, but kept walking.
"Why is it men never stop for directions?" she said in a very superior fashion.
*
The inside of the petrol station was nothing like either of them expected.
Half of it was actually a restaurant, and several people were sitting at tables, sipping hot coffee, reading the newspaper, or staring out the window as they waited for their orders to arrive. Two teenage girls were working behind the counter, cooking something that smelled like fish on the grill. The other half was lined with glass cases full of bottled and canned beverages. A second counter stood near them, topped with a 1950's cash register and several jars of pickled onions. The only thing that denoted that this place was part of a community of people with knowledge of the magical world was the décor.
The walls were covered with posters of Quidditch teams, antique broomsticks, moving photographs, chocolate frog cards, and miniature cauldrons hung from the ceiling. A rack of magazines nearby sold stacks of Muggle periodicals, but issues of The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly were also among the rows. The racks of candy displayed packs of Hershey's chocolate alongside Droobles Best Blowing Gum. There was butterbeer as well as soda pop, firewhiskey as well as Guinness in the glass cases.
A man who looked to be about forty called out from behind the cash register, "Welcome to Godric's Hollow, strangers, anything I can do for you?"
"Yes, thank you." Hermione said, glancing at Harry. He had the hood of his trench coat pulled up over his head, so she couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was looking around the room from the way his head was moving.
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to the man.
"We're looking for Potter Manor, if you could tell us where it is?"
The effect Hermione's simple question had on the inhabitants of the station was not that dissimilar from a police officer's entrance into a gangster hangout.
Everyone went completely still, staring at the two teenagers. The only sound was the hiss and spit of the grill in the background.
Hermione looked around in surprise. All the people were looking at her in suspicion, as if she had just asked them something highly improper.
The man behind the counter looked at her sternly. "And why would you be looking for Potter Manor?" He said quietly.
Hermione's mouth suddenly felt dry. "Umm…" she had no idea what to say.
"I can answer that sir," said Harry's voice from behind her.
The man turned to Harry, his stern look growing sterner still at the sight of the hood that hid the boy's face.
"Well then, answer. Why are you looking for Potter Manor?"
Harry stepped forward, raising a hand to his hood.
"Let's just say I'm trying to go home." He said, throwing his hood back.
There was dead silence in the station. You could have heard a pin drop, but the silence was broken by the sound of a frying pan falling to the floor. One of the waitresses had dropped the fish.
Harry looked around, slightly nervously.
"Umm, well it was my home anyway, but I haven't actually lived there for over a decade, so…"
Whatever he might have said after that, Hermione never knew. There was a great scraping of chairs, and suddenly she was shunted away from Harry as everyone in the room crowded around her slightly bewildered friend.
"Got Lily's eyes, he does…"
"…my, doesn't he look handsome too! Florence, come over here for a second…"
"…I thought he was James come back to life when he took off his hood…"
Hermione climbed onto a stool to see over the heads of the crowd. She could see Harry in the midst of everyone, having both of his hands shaken simultaneously, while trying to respond to all those who were trying to talk to him.
"I've been told so often, sir….nice to meet you too, Florence… Did you know my dad, then?.."
The clerk shouted "QUIET!" and waved his arms at everyone.
"All right everyone, please sit down again, and we'll get through this like civilized human beings, all right? Now, come sit here, and tell us all about why you're here." He insisted, pointing to a two-person bench against the wall.
Harry took the proffered seat, but sprang up almost immediately when he noticed Hermione still standing on the bar stool. He hurried over to her to help her down. She placed her hands on his shoulders and he lifted her as effortlessly as if she had been a sack of feathers.
Harry couldn't help but notice that, as he helped her down, her hair brushed across his face.
She smells good. He thought, then blushed.
Hermione noticed the color in his cheeks.
"What is it?" She asked anxiously.
Harry turned his head, embarrassed.
"I just wasn't expecting this sort of welcome, that's all," he lied.
The clerk interrupted them. "Now you two just sit here, and I'll bring you something to eat."
"There's no need…" Harry began, but the clerk was already hurrying off to the grill.
Everyone else had taken their seats again, and they were all staring openly at the two teenagers.
Hermione felt very self-conscious and suddenly realized that her hair, unmanageable anyway, was probably looking worse than usual from the wind on the trip here. She looked over at Harry and had to fight down the urge to laugh. She thought her hair was messy! Harry's was sticking almost straight up, except for a few spots where his hood had rested. She realized, without meaning to, that he looked good that way….very good indeed…
The clerk came bustling back over, interrupting her pleasant train of thought. He was carrying two mugs of cocoa, which he offered to them with a slight bow.
"Well now," he said, dragging a chair over and sitting in it so quickly it creaked in protest. "What brings you to Godric's Hollow?"
Harry took a sip of his cocoa and began. He told them of his Wish List, and of his desire to see his parents home. He told them of how he was to meet Sean Xavier and learn more of his family. He told them everything, except the reason that he was doing this was that he might die.
He had scarcely finished his narrative when everyone broke out in talk again, each trying to relate their own stories of Harry's parents, what they knew of the Potter family, and, for some reason, of how Sean Xavier was considered to be a bit of a fanatic when it came to the Potter's property.
The clerk (who introduced himself as Desmond Sullivan) had to resort to a piercing whistle that Hermione truly believed could have blown the fleas off a dog, to restore order. He then went around the room, pointing to each person in turn, so that each got a chance to tell their story.
Harry sat in absolute silence, intent on the speakers, listening to story after story of his family. Not just of his parents, but of his grandparents, great-aunts and uncles, how his family had been among the first to settle Godric's Hollow, how his parents were loved by everyone.
A middle-aged woman with a young daughter told how his father had personally paid for University tuition of half the population, including her husband, because most were too poor to afford it themselves. He learned from an elderly man who was sitting at a table nearby that his mother had once stayed up most of the night with him, waiting for the ambulance that was to take him to the hospital after he suffered a heart attack. He learned that every year, whenever someone celebrated their birthday, they could expect a present from the Potter's. He was told of how his grandfathers from ages long since past, had always been generous with their people, never overtaxing, even in the days when lords had absolute power over their lands. He felt, too, the sadness that overcame the assembly when they discussed the night of the Potter's death.
"We were all in shock, when we woke up to see Ministry officials crowding the town, all saying that they were dead." Desmond said sadly. "They came to eat in this very place, they did, all talking of how great a tragedy it was, and them not even knowing Lily an' James, most of `em. They had no idea just how great of a loss it was." He shook his head.
Hermione was listening almost as intently as Harry. She felt a fierce sense of pride, when she recalled everything that Harry had done over the past years. If these people only knew what Harry had accomplished, how kind he was, giving the Weasley's his Triwizard winnings, how brave he was, facing what he had over the years.
How loving he was…
As this thought occurred to her, Hermione suddenly realized that her hand and Harry's had somehow become intertwined, and he was rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand.
She also realized that he was shaking.
With a jolt of guilt, she realized how hard this must be for him, to listen to complete strangers talk about his parents in such detail, while he, their own son, had never had the chance to know what they did….would never have the chance…
She gently disentangled her hand from his, and raised it to his face, brushing back his hair from his temple. He turned to look at her, an expression of such sadness, pain and longing in his eyes that she suddenly wanted nothing more than to hold him close, protect him from whatever the future might hold…protect him from his death…
But before she could move to do so, Desmond interrupted.
"Well, I'll just go see how your lunch is coming, if you'll excuse me."
Hermione suddenly felt vastly annoyed with the friendly clerk.
Harry leaned forward and put his head in his hands. The other patrons hurriedly looked away, pretending to be engaged in other important conversations, while stealing glances at the pair all the while.
"Harry?" Hermione said gently, leaning forward until her head was next to his again.
"Harry, are you all right?"
Harry quickly wiped his hand across his eyes, trying to hide this action from her. He was obviously hoping to pretend nothing was wrong, and she might easily have gone along with it, if his glasses hadn't fallen off.
They clattered on the tile floor, and the sound made her jump slightly. Feeling embarrassed for Harry, and not knowing what else to do, she reached down to pick them up. As she did so, she noticed that the lenses were extremely dirty.
How can he even see through these? Hermione wondered, raising them to the light and inspecting them with a critical eye.
She breathed on the lenses and rubbed them on the hem of her sweater. That's much better. She thought, before handing them back to Harry.
Harry reached for them, but because of his poor vision, missed and ended up with his fingers against Hermione's cheek instead.
Her breath caught in her throat. She was suddenly very glad for the fact that Harry was legally blind without his glasses, because if he wasn't, she wouldn't be having this leaping feeling in her stomach right now, and because Harry wouldn't be able to see her blushing either.
"Here, let me." She whispered, turning the black frames around and putting them where they belonged. It was impossible, she discovered, to put a pair of glasses on another person without touching their skin, and very impossible to guide them to their proper place without running your fingers through their hair.
As she started to pull away, feeling a thousand conflicting emotions run through her, most of which she never thought she would connect to Harry, he raised his hand and placed it over hers, pressing her palm to his cheek.
"You always have to take care of me, don't you?" he said softly.
Hermione was staring directly into his eyes. She had the impression of drowning in green, before Harry leaned forward.
She closed her eyes. She had seen enough romance movies to know what this usually led to, and was trying to decide whether she would welcome it or not, when she felt his lips brush against her forehead.
He pulled back, smiling slightly.
"Thank you." He said.
Hermione looked at him intently, searching for some sign, anything, that would show her he had meant more by that gesture than he was letting on.
What if he did?
What if he didn't?
Before she could decide which option she would have preferred, he looked at her in some concern, raising a hand to point at his head.
"What, do I have something on my face?" he asked teasingly.
Hermione, realizing she had been staring, but not about to give up such a good opportunity, smiled back.
"Yes, just there." She raised a finger to his face, touching it to the corner of his eye, and tracing it down to the corner of his mouth. She noticed he shivered slightly.
She rubbed her fingers together, as if trying to get rid of whatever it was that had been on his face.
"What was it?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing much." She answered lightly.
"Just a bit of fluff, is all."
AN: Get it? A bit of fluff? Hee hee, dumb joke.
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