Unofficial Portkey Archive

Lies and Illusions chp. 10

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 10
Godric's Hollow

It's a good thing we can do magic, Harry thought to himself as he laid on his bed the night before his birthday. Otherwise we'd still be piecing this place back together.

While they had finished repairing the Burrow a few days ago, there was no way for them to remove all reminders of the battle. Items ranging from most of the living room furniture to a couple of Ron's Chudley Cannons posters had been destroyed. The possibility of another attack led to some other changes as well. Most noticeable of which was the cabinet built just inside the front door to replace the old broomshed out in the yard.

The village of Ottery St. Catchpole was also recovering, albeit at a much slower pace. Confident that they had buried all evidence of magical involvement in the disaster, the Ministry had pulled out a week after the attack. Not that it would matter much to the fifteen Muggles who were killed in the attack.

But no matter how many repairs they made to the Burrow, there was no way to undo all the effects of the battle.

Once the heavy repair work was well underway, Bill set about revamping the various security measures around his family's home with a vengeance. His first act was to shred and burn every copy of the Ministry's guidelines he could find. Then he used all of his experience from Egypt, and some items from the twins' shop that he personally modified, to set up a series of defenses that even his fellow Curse-Breakers would have a hard time getting through.

Ron had taken to watching the horizon whenever they weren't working. While his mother thought he was shaken by the battle, his friends knew that he was waiting for Pig's return. In an unexpected move for Ron Weasley, he'd taken Percy up on his offer to help deliver his message to Luna and her father. So far, the tiny owl hadn't come back...which was bothering his owner no end. "The feathery git probably took the long way home," Ron told them just today. "Just watch...he'll show up sometime in October, hooting his little head off as usual."

But as depressed as he was, Ron was easier for his friends to deal with than his sister. Staying in St. Mungo's for a couple of weeks had cooled Ginny's rage somewhat. Now instead of insulting Harry and Hermione every chance she got, Ginny just watched them -- hurt mixed with a sad sort of longing on her face. To be honest, Harry found these looks a bit unnerving. Hermione, meanwhile, believed this was a good thing -- a sign that Ginny might finally be accepting their relationship and letting go of her crush.

Although they were around each other constantly, Harry and Hermione didn't have many chances to be alone before his birthday. Having the repair work to do on top of everything else limited them to a few stolen moments here and there. To make matters worse, a couple of new problems had cropped up.

First and most disturbing: his scar was bothering him again.

It wasn't hurting exactly, more like an unpleasant tingling. Voldemort had been blocking the connection between them ever since his failed attempt to possess Harry over a year ago. Now for some reason, the barrier between them seemed to have weakened slightly. Harry wanted to talk with Hermione about it, but couldn't find the chance to tell her thanks to their other problem -- a witch named Molly Weasley.

The woman had been on edge ever since the attack, mostly because her magical clock hadn't been returned from the repair shop yet. Without it around to keep tabs on her family (apparently the hands had stopped pointing at "mortal peril" all the time when Snape fled the Order), Mrs. Weasley became anxious whenever anyone came home late or wandered off. Ron found this out the hard way when he went to investigate what was left of Luna's home one afternoon. Upon his return, his mum gave him an earful about it at a volume rivaling that of a Howler.

Harry and Hermione had their own run-in with Molly's temper a week earlier. After working all day, they'd gone up to Hermione's room for a private talk -- a long talk that soon turned into an even longer snogging session. Pausing to catch their breath, they snuggled together in spite of the warm summer air. Just as they started dozing off in each other's arms, Mrs. Weasley burst in on them shouting, "What's going on in here?" From there she'd launched into a long (and undeserved) lecture about 'proper behavior', and had been watching them like a hawk ever since.

Harry was staring at the ceiling as these memories swirled around in his head. His apparation test was in the morning and he needed to get some sleep. However, every time he closed his eyes he saw Hermione's face floating before him quickly followed by a wave of frustration at the female members of the Weasley clan.

With the softest of knocks, Hermione entered his room in her pajamas and dressing gown. At her feet, a furry shadow with a long bottlebrush tail darted into the room just before she closed the door. In the dim light, Harry saw her raise a finger to her lips before casting a series of spells to ensure their privacy.

She muttered as she came to the bed, "This is ridiculous. We've been together almost a month, the whole wizarding world knows about us, and yet we have to sneak around this house like we're doing something wrong!"

"All because Molly Weasley thinks we're irresponsible," Harry replied as Hermione climbed onto the bed. Crookshanks had already curled up at Harry's feet.

"If this goes on much longer, I'm going to take a page out of Fleur's book and tell the woman to sod off. Mum and Dad are happy for us, and that's all the approval I need." Before Harry could respond; Hermione leaned over and gave him a long, passionate kiss. "Happy birthday, Harry."

He squinted at the clock on the nightstand. It was after midnight, and he was seventeen at last.

Hermione gently stroked his face, and saw him wince as her thumb brushed over the scar on his forehead.

"Harry?"

Looking away from her, Harry answered, "It's been acting up for the past week or two. I think something is bothering Voldemort enough that it's slipping through the barriers he's been putting up."

"Do you have any idea what it could be?" Hermione asked quickly.

Harry shrugged. "Not really, it's too weak for me to make out."

"Wonderful, and there isn't much we can do about it either," Hermione sighed. Giving him another kiss, she said, "I should go. You have a long day tomorrow, and need to be well rested for your test." She got up to leave.

"Hermione...stay. Please?" Hermione had been there for only a few minutes, and Harry didn't want her to leave so soon.

Hermione's shadowy form paused at the edge of his bed. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Harry."

"Why not?" Harry asked quietly. "If this is about Ron's mum -"

"No, it's about what might happen if I stay. You and I seem to be developing a habit of falling asleep in each other's arms," she explained.

Harry slid out of the covers to embrace his girlfriend, saying, "We didn't mean for it to happen before, those were accidents."

Even in the darkness, he could see Hermione bite her lower lip. "But it wouldn't be this time," she finally said. "Even though we'll only be sleeping, I would still be spending the night in your bed because you asked me to. That's something I never seriously considered doing with anybody until just now."

"For what it's worth, neither have I," Harry confessed. "That's why I didn't mind when we agreed to take things slow."

Hermione softly corrected him. "Actually, we agreed to try not to turn this into a sexual relationship until we're both ready for it -- that's not quite the same thing." She paused for a breath. "Look, I'm not complaining about our relationship or how it's going. It's just that it's progressing a little faster than I expected. I also can't forget about this 'gift' of mine or the fact that you seem to have it too. We know so little about it, so how can we know that it isn't affecting us somehow? Oh, Harry...what if it's making us feel this way?"

There was another pause as he thought about what she'd said. This power of theirs had never been far from Harry's mind these past weeks either. Perhaps it was just because he was aware of it now, but it seemed as if this ability had been getting stronger ever since their talk. Reading Hermione's emotions, in particular, was becoming very easy for him.

"I don't think it works that way," Harry finally said. "While this 'gift' of ours can sometimes make us mistake someone else's feelings for our own, I don't think it can actually create them. Once we're away from the other person, any feelings we get from them seem to fade away pretty quickly. It started happening to my feelings for Ginny before we even left Hogwarts, but not during the times you and I have been apart. All the same, I think you're right about this thing we do affecting us." Harry yawned as he laid back down. "Maybe when two people who can do this share the same feelings, they might feel the other person's emotions in addition to their own. That could make the feeling feel unusually strong, but wouldn't change the fact that they each feel the way they do."

She gave him a thoughtful look. "That sounds like a reasonable, well-thought out explanation -- I must be rubbing off on you. Now if we could just do something about your reckless streak...."

"I'm not reckless," he said innocently. "I'm just in love, and like waking up next to my beautiful girlfriend."

"When you put it that way," Hermione said, shedding her bathrobe, "how can I refuse?" She placed a soothing kiss on his scar, followed by one last one on his lips. Settling her head on Harry's shoulder, Hermione softly added, "And I love you too."

The two of them were sound asleep within minutes.

*********

As they expected, the following day was a busy one.

Harry and Ron's tests were scheduled for ten a.m. and quarter past ten, respectively. To make sure that they got there in time, they flooed to the Ministry with Arthur when he went to work. Security was even tighter than before, with Aurors now manning the gate in the atrium. Harry stared at them for a minute before turning to Mr. Weasley, who gave them a helpless gesture and disappeared through a smaller gate marked "Ministry Personnel Only".

The test itself was quick and easy, though the same couldn't be said for dealing with the people giving it. After filling out the foot-long applications, they were taken individually to a hallway with a hoop and an inspector at either end. There they had to apparate from one hoop to the other and back between being inspected for missing body parts. Both of them passed quite easily, but then had to wait another hour and a half for their licenses to be issued.

On their way out, Harry and Ron passed yet another Auror standing watch by the lifts.

"Why am I suddenly wondering if there are any Aurors actually out trying to catch the Death Eaters?" Harry said under his breath.

Ron snorted, "Don't ask me...just because half of them seem to be hanging around here, trying to look intimidating."

"For your information," a proud, and rather annoyed voice said behind them, "the Aurors are here to protect our workers and for the peace of mind of the general wizarding populace. After all, how can they expect us to defeat You-Know-Who if we can't even keep his followers out of the Ministry building?"

A dozen snide remarks flashed through Harry's brain as he turned towards Rufus Scrimgeour, but he didn't voice any of them. Instead he carefully said, "So, you're basically putting on a show. The gates, having Aurors all over the place...it's all to make people feel safe."

"Images are important after all," Scrimgeour quickly answered, "and these measures will deter any future attacks by the Death Eaters. Surely, someone as perceptive as you can see the wisdom -"

"You'll excuse me for not worrying about the Ministry's reputation when it can't even keep a confidential Auror report out of the newspaper," Harry replied coldly. Most of what he and Hermione had told Tonks had been published in the Daily Prophet a week after the attack. "Though I did notice that the part about how the Burrow was cut off from the Floo Network was omitted. Interesting, since I was under the impression that only the Floo Network Authority could do something like that."

The lift announced their arrival at the atrium level as the Minister of Magic tried to stammer a response. Without bothering to say goodbye to Scrimgeour, Harry grabbed Ron by the arm and walked over to the queue for the disapparation point.

**********

Beyond his trip to the Ministry, there was little to say about Harry's birthday. The Weasleys threw a party for him that evening, even though he'd told them it wasn't necessary. The food and butterbeer did cheer him up a bit, and several of his presents could prove useful in the days to come.

Bill, citing the interest Harry had shown in the subject, had given him a book entitled A Curse-Breaker's Guide to Wards and Traps. Meanwhile, Remus and Tonks gave him a small box containing an unusual wristwatch. The face was similar to Molly's clock, but with a couple of hands that actually told the time, and the watch face was protected by a metal lid that held a small mirror filled with faint moving images -- a miniature Foe-Glass.

"A place in Hogsmeade started making these a few months ago. They've become very popular with the Auror Division, even though the Ministry hasn't approved them yet," Tonks explained, tapping a similar watch on her wrist. "They're not available to the general public, but the witch running the shop was willing to make an exception in your case."

Last but not least, Hermione gave him a denim jacket from Fred and George's shop. The charm the twins used to make their shield clothing was limited in its ability to stop hexes and jinxes, but would offer at least some protection in a fight.

"I know that you've been thinking about getting one of these, and I figured that it would make a nice birthday present" Hermione whispered in Harry's ear. "Before you ask, I also bought jackets for Ron and myself out of the funds you set aside for us. Though I didn't appreciate the extra charm that I found on mine," she finished loudly, directing one of her death glares at the twins.

"Do you know what she's talking about, Fred?" George asked with feigned innocence.

"No idea, George," Fred answered. "Unless she has a problem with being labeled 'Property of Harry Potter'."

Crossing her arms, Hermione replied through clenched teeth. "When it makes me look like I'm wearing a neon sign on my back, you'd better believe that I have a problem with it! And you forgot to mention the arrow that was pointing at a certain part of my anatomy."

The twins, along with Ron and Ginny (in spite of herself) started laughing. Hermione glared at all of them in turn, until a pair of hands snaking around her middle eased her fury. Harry looked into her eyes for a second, and then thanked Hermione for her gift with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

*********

Few residents of Godric's Hollow paid any mind to the three teens passing through their village on the morning of August first. Dressed in Muggle clothes and carrying nondescript backpacks, the teens gave no sign of their magical natures or of the important event that was taking place. Not even as they cautiously approached the abandoned property where one of their lives had changed forever.

Harry Potter was coming home.

None of them knew what to expect at the Potter's old house, so they were treating this as a full-scale test of the methods they would use to recover the Horcruxes. All of them stayed alert as they walked from their apparation point to the house, and were wearing their shield jackets in case they came across any still active magical defenses.

Reaching the front gate, Hermione used a spell they'd learned from Bill to check for magic.

"There used to be a lot of enchantments on this place, but they've either decayed or been broken," she announced. "Most of them were fairly common things like anti-apparation and privacy charms, but there are several I don't recognize."

Casting his own spell, Harry carefully examined the color patterns it revealed. "One of them has to be a remnant of the Fidelius Charm, which probably failed when Mum and Dad were killed. As for the others...your guess is as good as mine, but I wouldn't have put it past my parents to cook up a few surprises of their own."

Exchanging a nod, the trio walked through the gate with their wands out.

The old house stood just out of sight from the road. Although it was still standing, they could already see some of the damage left from that fateful night sixteen years ago. All of the doors and windows, along with what looked like a large hole on the upper floor had been covered with sheets of plywood. Every so often their feet would find some piece of debris hidden among the weeds that had taken over the yard.

Hermione asked, "Are you sure it's even safe for us to go in? It looks like a bomb hit it."

"Yeah, a bomb named Voldemort," Harry answered. "Let's finish checking the yard and see my parents first. Remus said they were buried under an old tree in the back."

"Oi! I think I see it." Ron pointed along one side of the house.

Following his gesture, Harry saw the branches of a large oak tree at the far end of the backyard. "Yes, that must be it. We'll go around the other side and visit them after making sure it's clear," Harry told them.

With a quick nod, Ron took the lead as they went around the ruined building. Hermione walked a little ways behind him with Harry bringing up the rear.

Harry stopped for a moment to rub the side of the house. This had been his home once, the place where his parents meant to raise him. Surely there was something here besides a crumbling building and their graves. A reason for him to feel drawn to this place.

"Harry!" Hermione was waving him in her direction. "Take a look at this!"

Passing through a wrought-iron gate, Harry caught up with his friends...and stopped dead in his tracks when he got his first look at his parents' backyard.

It was big, so big that you could have fit the Dursleys' entire property into it five times over (at least). Most of it was taken up by the garden Remus had told him about. Even though no one had taken care of it in sixteen years, it was still one of the loveliest places Harry had ever seen. Common garden flowers like roses, asters, and lilies bloomed alongside their enchanted cousins and a selection of the most harmless magical herbs they'd come across in Herbology. The flowerbeds shaped the overgrown lawn into a rough oval while trees and dense shrubbery helped conceal it from the outside world. Taking it all in, Harry was struck by how familiar this garden was.

Hermione quickly pulled him to a dilapidated swing set within easy view of the house. Hanging by one side was a baby swing in the shape of a pudgy dragon. Tapping it with his wand made the dragon come to life: complete with beating wings, flicking tail, and a puff of smoke from the mouth.

"Gee," Harry muttered sarcastically, "wonder who came up with that...."

Hermione looked at him with a straight face. "Let me think.... Who do we know who knew your parents, is overly fond of dragons, and would actually think something like this would be a good present for someone's baby?"

Laughing together, they went over to Ron, who was standing by a pair of metal lockers.

"Look what I found," he said.

One of the lockers contained gardening tools. Inside the other, the one Ron was holding open, was an old Nimbus One Thousand and One -- which had been a top-of-the-line racing broom about a quarter of a century ago. Next to it was a toy broomstick half its size with a faded note attached:

Harry,

Love, Dad.

Beneath it someone else had added in a neat, feminine hand: NO FLYING IN THE HOUSE!

Turning over the tag, Harry found written in a painfully familiar scrawl: What your mum doesn't know won't hurt us, S.B..

Staring first at the brooms, and then at the trees around him, Harry walked to a dry fountain that marked the center of the yard. From there, he could clearly see the layout of the whole garden. With the house standing at one end, the hundred year-old oak at the other, and tall pine trees at regular intervals around the sides, he was standing in a perfect one-fifth scale Quidditch pitch.

Walking side-by-side, they made their way to the huge oak tree at the far end of the garden. On one side, a heavy branch supported a swing that would be perfect for a couple to relax on together. The grave Remus Lupin told him about, separated from the rest on the garden by a low fence, was on the other. A single headstone bore the names James Potter and Lily Evans Potter on either side of a Gryffindor lion. The dates read: 1960 - 1981.

Kneeling before his parents' grave, Harry softly brushed the fallen leaves off the stone as he spoke.

"Hi Mum, Dad.... I...it's been so long, but I finally got the chance to come and visit you."

His voice shook as he caressed the names before him. This place had been abandoned for so long, and yet it seemed to echo with the spirits of those who had lived here. As if the garden itself was a memorial to the witch and wizard whose lives had been so tragically been cut short.

"As you can see, I brought my friends.... Well, 'friends' doesn't quite cover what Hermione and Ron mean to me. Anyway, we came to see you and have a look around.

"There are so many questions, and you're probably the only ones who could have answered them. I wish you were here, that I could really talk to you...that I...."

Ron gave him a pat on the back to remind Harry he wasn't alone. Sharing a brotherly smile with the redhead, Harry then turned to Hermione. She held out a bouquet they had gathered at the Weasleys'. Once he'd taken the flowers, she dropped down beside him to offer her physical support in addition the emotional strength her and Ron were already providing.

"I love you, Mum...Dad. I always have and always will."

After casting a quick spell to preserve the flowers, Harry placed them in a crystal vase concealed by the tall grass in front of the headstone.

**********

When they'd finished paying their respects to the Potters, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down for lunch before going on. A small patio by the house provided a lovely spot for a picnic.

Swallowing a last bite of food sometime later, Harry brushed off his hands and checked his watch. A glance at the Foe-Glass showed it to be nearly blank.

"We'd better get going," he told them. "There's a lot to do, and the house isn't exactly small."

Ron was working on his third sandwich. "Great, where do we start?'

"Perhaps by taking a peek inside to see if it's even safe for us to enter. We just need to vanish some of the boards," Hermione told them as she cleaned up.

Harry thought for a moment. "Transfiguring the plywood might be a better idea. Then we can just reverse the spell when we leave."

Standing up, Harry chose a window to test his idea on. With a gentle wave of his wand and a few muttered words, the opaque sheet was transformed into a plate of glass.

"Interesting technique, very subtle," Hermione commented.

Harry replied, "Picked it up from Dumbledore. You could barely tell he was doing magic half the time."

Changing a few more windows gave them a decent glimpse of the inside. There was some broken furnishings and other debris, but it wasn't collapsed or burned in any way. Agreeing to enter, they split up to transfigure the other lower story windows. The upper ones would have to be done from the inside.

When they were finished, three well-placed Diffindo spells from Hermione made a section of the plywood covering the front door fall into Harry and Ron's waiting hands. As they slid it to one side, Hermione quietly transfigured some of the debris into hardhats for them for them to put on before going in.

As they began their exploration, Harry's thoughts turned to what he knew of his parents' final moments. The entry hall and adjacent rooms showed signs of James Potter's valiant attempt to save his family. Marks left by stray spells, water stains, pieces of furniture, and bits of wood and plaster were everywhere. Examining the traces left by the duel quickly showed a pattern: near the door were the marks left by Stunning Spells, Impediment Jinxes, and the like, whereas the area by the stairway showed a lot of Dark magic -- including several Killing Curses.

Ron let out a low whistle. "Your dad sure put up one hell of a fight, Harry. He even animated the kitchen table to help him." The remains of said table lay in the middle of the hallway, its legs bent in ways that were only possible if it had been walking.

"I was once told that my dad's wand was good for transfiguration. So it makes sense...." By the stairs, Harry's foot knocked something out of the wreckage. With a casual wave of his wand, Harry muttered, "Scourgify."

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked.

Staring blankly at his friends, Harry picked up a decayed piece of wood. "Dad's wand, at least what's left of it. This must be where he died." He stared at the broken mahogany wand for a minute before gently sliding it into his pocket.

From the beginning, coming here was about Harry looking for information. A clue to the whereabouts of the Horcruxes, something to calm Hermione's fears about their feelings...anything. But as they searched, all they found was an interesting collection of ruined wizard and Muggle artifacts. Molding Muggle novels and encyclopedias shared a bookcase with ruined spellbooks, a wizard wireless lay broken amid a pile of old phonograph records, a gas stove sat side-by-side with an enchanted icebox in the kitchen.... Not much, but enough for them to get an idea of what the house had been like when Harry's parents were alive.

They went from room to room, carefully examining each room both visually and magically. Nothing salvageable was found in the lower parts of the house, except for a torn photograph of an old couple who, judging by their cloaks and robes, had to be Harry's magical grandparents.

Moving upstairs, Hermione said, "You know, this house isn't quite as bad as I thought. It would take a lot of work, but I think it could actually be repaired."

"Don't see why you'd want to," Ron answered. "Place is dead depressing if you ask me."

Hermione chastised him, "That's a very tactless thing to say, Ron. Especially considering what happened here."

Holding his lit wand aloft, Harry thought for a moment. There was a lingering sadness to the house, a sense of tragedy if you will, because of the shape it was in. People had come here all those years ago: Hagrid, whoever had buried James and Lily Potter, idiots from the Ministry gathering anything the Dark Lord might have left behind.... But none of them had tried to fix the place, almost as though they were afraid to undo Voldemort's work. Typical, Harry thought to himself.

But even with the massive damage, the house was still standing. Sure there was wreckage all over the place and the roof leaked like a sieve, but it continued to defy time, nature, and the Dark Arts' attempts to bring it down. In a way, it reminded Harry of the shape he'd had been in after some of his encounters with Voldemort. Perhaps it was just waiting for someone to come and patch it up.

The trio examined the first two rooms the found upstairs in the same manner they used downstairs. One was a bathroom, which still held some puddles from the most recent rainstorm. The other was once a playroom. More than most, this room had been heavily damaged, with bits of broken toys littering the floor along with the remains of the large box they were once stored in. In a far corner, however, something had survived virtually unharmed: a plain, wooden, Muggle rocking horse.

Ron stared at it in wonder. "Where would your parents get something like that?" he asked.

"From Grandpa Evans," Harry answered. "Dudley had one just like it once, until he threw a tantrum and broke it into a dozen pieces. That was the only time I can remember Aunt Petunia getting mad at him."

They moved on to the next room with a feeling of dread. There was nothing left of it. The plaster and much of the wood lath beneath it had been pulverized, leaving no sign of what might have been painted there. The gaping hole they'd seen marked where the window had been. Now it, along with a good chunk of the outer wall, was scattered all over the front yard. The door had been reduced to splinters along with the furnishings. But nevertheless, they knew what room this used to be. A gap in the plywood outside allowed a ray of light to fall on a broken crib on one side of the room, next to a blackened spot on the floor. Clearly, that was the place where Lord Voldemort had stood when he tried to kill Harry Potter for the first time.

From the moment he'd seen the hole in the side of the building, he'd known which room it had been. So, this is it, he thought. The place where I got my scar.

Taking two steps into the room, Harry was suddenly overcome with emotional pain and a deep, paralyzing sense of loss, as if some vital part of himself had been suddenly torn away. It sapped his strength, leaving him unable to move from this spot between the crib and the door. At the same time, however, there was something else radiating from this spot -- an echo of something warm and familiar, but which Harry couldn't name....

A trembling hand touching his shoulder brought Harry partly back to his senses. Hermione stood next to him, white as a sheet. Relief flowed through him as he pulled her into a tight embrace. Everything was all right, Hermione was here. Together they would overcome the darkness that had taken so much from him. Together, they could do anything.

The two of them stood there for a while, holding each other like their lives depended on it. Neither of them had any way of knowing that they were standing in the exact spot where Lily Potter gave her life to save her son's.

**********
end chapter 10