Godric's Hollow#5
Seventeen
October 1998: Godrics Hollow #5
Harry had finally calmed down enough that he could watch the next memory. His heart sank nervously as he read the label. October 1998. The seventeenth anniversary of his parents’ murder. He had gone to Godric’s Hollow that very Halloween. The date on the vial was the 29th, two days before Harry had gone with Ginny. It was the first time he and Ginny visited the grave as a couple.
Anxiously, Harry tipped the vial, watching the silvery liquid curl around the pensieve. With a deep breath he dipped his finger inside. The memory dropped him right there in Godric’s Hollow cemetery.
Hermione sighed as she clutched the baby, bundled in blankets and a hat, closely to her chest, standing just by the gates of the cemetery. Harry watched her closely. He wondered why she felt this memory was important enough to show him. She took a breath, kissing their daughters head before making her way to the graves he knew well.
Hermione hesitated as she stepped up to the marble stone etched with James and Lily Potter’s names. Silently, she pulled out her wand and with a flourish of her wrist, conjured a small wreath to lie atop the grave. Harry remembered seeing it lying there and wondering when it had been placed. “um…” She paused, licking her lips. “Hello James, Lily…it’s Hermione. Though I suppose you already know that.” Her voice was soft. Harry watched in the dim light of dusk as she spoke to the stone. After a moment of silence he wondered if she would say anything more or if this memory was to simply show him that she visited. She sighed, dropping down to her knees, bringing the baby closer to the stone. “I wanted to introduce you to your granddaughter.” She whispered hoarsely. “Rosalee, this is your grandmother and grandfather potter. They, like your daddy, would have adored you.” The scene blurred as tears burned his eyes. “I hope you can forgive me…for keeping this from him.” She offered. “I thought it was for the best, but honestly, I don’t know anymore. I feel like I’m just in too deep now.” Harry wanted to scream. “He’s with Ginny now…they way it should have been. Ron says he is happy and that’s all I’ve wanted for him.” Except he wasn’t happy, he wanted to say. He was numbing the loneliness.
Harry stepped closer before he sank down, sitting on the ground. In this position he almost felt like he was part of the memory rather than a mere observer. “Their sacrifice is what gave us your daddy.” She whispered, speaking to Rosalee now, as she twisted to get more comfortable. Resting her back against the stone and stretching her legs out before her. Rosalee’s eyes were open, bright and alert as she watched her mother. “You have your grandmother’s eyes.” She said, smiling as she kissed the baby’s nose. She rocked the baby in her arms. “Harry and I met on the train that first year.” She began, speaking more to his parents, or maybe to herself. “I knew who he was just by reading our books. He was friendly to me. Which was saying a lot considering the way others treated me.” Harry didn’t miss the way her eyes dropped to the exposed skin of her forearm. The one he knew that had mudblood carved into it. She cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Everyone found me unusual, Harry…Harry found me brilliant.” It was true, Harry thought to himself, she was brilliant. He leaned on her more than anyone during the war. “I’d like to think, in another life, we could have been Harry and Hermione. The ones that fall in love. Not the ones that fought a war.” A tear escaped and slipped down her cheek. Harry ached to brush it away. “Why couldn’t we be both.” Harry asked out loud. He knew his comment would go unanswered despite the fact he wanted an answer.
Hermione sighed as she watched Rosalee begin to drift off. Carefully, she got to her feet, grazing her fingers along the stone. “Thank you.” She whispered, leaning over and placing a kiss to the marble. “Thank you for giving us your son. I will always cherish the small piece of him that I got to have. I will treasure the part of himself that I get to love every single day.” She said, glancing down at the baby in her arms. “I will tell our daughter about you often and continue to bring her to visit.” Hermione promised.
Harry blinked finding himself back in his office. Alone. He stood up, abruptly and rushed down the steps. Grabbing his jacket, he went outside and apparated before he really knew where he was going.
Godric’s Hollow cemetery was the same as it was in the memory. He walked, knowing the path to his parents’ graves by heart. Harry stood at the stone; his hands tucked deep into his pockets. “Mum…Dad…” He offered quietly. There was a bite in the air that signaled winter would be approaching. He remembered the night he and Hermione stood at this grave. The only time they had visited together but obviously not the last time they visited separately. It had been Christmas eve, just after conceiving Rosalee. Looking back, Harry understood Hermione was more than likely soaking in all she could before she began to distance herself. He stood before the engraved names of his parents awkwardly and wondered what they would make of the situation. It struck him suddenly how badly he wished he had them in his life. He would have selfishly stayed on the run if it meant they lived full lives. Just as quickly as the thought came, guilt shoved it back down.
Usually, in instances such as this, one where he would be seeking guidance of a parental figure, he would go to Arthur. Harry hadn’t spoken to either him or Molly since it was revealed that they had known about the situation. Rationally he understood that forgiveness would come to his stand in parents, but he just wasn’t ready yet.
What came next was a shock to himself as he found himself standing on the front step of one place he rarely visited any more. Number 4 Privet Drive was still a thoroughly ordinary house on a thoroughly ordinary street. The years however had brought out a welcomeness to it. After the war, Harry checked in with his aunt, uncle and cousin, feeling some sense of loyalty to the family that had raised him albeit treated him so poorly. Aunt Petunia had cautiously enveloped him in a hug, much to his surprise. Just as he, Hermione and Ron reacted to being in the constant presence of Horcruxes, the same occurred with the Dursleys. They were still stiff and awkward, not the most loving folks but they no longer stared at him with undiluted hatred. Uncle Vernon had passed away about a year and a half ago and Harry had dutifully attended the funeral. Dudley, surprisingly enough, married Katie Bell and both Vernon and Petunia were slowly coming around to magic.
Harry sighed, knocking on the door gently. Aunt Petunia must have been waiting for him to knock. She opened the door almost immediately, giving him a stiff but polite smile. “Harry. Would you like to come in?” She asked, stepping to the side. Harry nodded. Even with the years and the distance he put between himself, and this place it didn’t dissipate his discomfort when he stepped inside, his eyes darting to the small area beneath the stairs. “Thank you, Aunt Petunia. You’re looking well.” He responded kindly as he followed his aunt into the living room. The mantel still held an ungodly number of photographs of Dudlikins, but now there were a couple small photographs of Harry scattered between. Harry cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Yes well, I just got back the other day from visiting Dudley and Katie. They’re expecting.” Her voice tensed with the announcement. Harry knew she was wondering if their child, her grandchild, would be magical. Just because she has accepted magic didn’t mean she was completely comfortable with it. Harry gave her credit for trying. “That’s wonderful news, I’ll need to send an owl and congratulate them.” Aunt Petunia nodded, taking a seat in one of the wing back chairs and motioned for Harry to do the same.
Harry sighed, hesitating a bit before finally taking a seat. “I have a daughter.” He blurted, deciding to just cut to the chase. Aunt Petunia’s mouth parted in surprise and her eyes went wide. “What? When?” Harry nodded, understanding her confusion. “With Hermione…I’m sure you remember her?” Petunia nodded but remained quiet. “Apparently she conceived during the war…around Christmas that year.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I had no idea the two of you were even involved…” She paused, looking down with shame coloring her cheeks. “Though during that time, I don’t suppose I would have noticed much to do with you.” Harry felt a slight pang of sadness hit him in the chest. What she said wasn’t untrue, but it hurt, nonetheless. Instead of commenting on it, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wizard photograph he had taken a few days ago of he and Rosalee together. He handed it to Petunia. She took it with a smile before pulling a set of glasses from her apron. Placing them on her face she held up the photo, smiling wistfully. “She looks like your mother at that age.” Harry felt a flutter of happiness at the mention of his mother.
Petunia went to hand back the photo, but Harry shook his head. “Keep it.” He reached in his jacket pocket, retrieving his wand before giving a quick flick and rendering the photo motionless. Petunia much preferred muggle photos. She smiled, “Thank you.” She stood up and placed the picture on the mantel, tracing Rosalee’s face with her fingertips. “I didn’t know about her until a couple of weeks ago. I’m struggling with that truthfully.” Harry got to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets while standing next to his aunt. For a moment the two of them just stared at the picture. “What’s her name?” Petunia asked finally breaking the silence. “Rosalee Jean. She’s six and the most amazing person I have ever met.” Harry’s voice broke and he cleared his throat, turning away from the mantel and taking his seat again.
Petunia took her own seat again, crossing her feet at the ankles. “Your mother was like that.” She started and Harry held his breath. His aunt rarely spoke of his parents until the last couple years. He craved stories about them. This is why he came here. What he hoped to gain from the visit. “Anyone who met your mother was simply enraptured with her. She was like the sun, all warmth and a gravitational pull that was hard to ignore.” Many people had said the same regarding Lily Potter, but hearing how it compared to his daughter made him feel closer to her somehow. “Would she easily forgive?” He asked, desperate to know what his mother would feel about the situation. Petunia paused, looking up at the photo of Rosalee. “You didn’t have to forgive your uncle and I, but you did. Without hesitation.” Harry shrugged, “There was hesitation, but that was more my issue than yours.” He muttered honestly. “I will spend the rest of my days, seeking your forgiveness, Harry . My sister’s forgiveness for when I see her again.” Petunia promised. “Growing up, Lily and I were so close. I was jealous of the gifts she was given; I won’t deny that. She proved time and time again, that despite my nastiness towards her, she held no ill will towards me.” Harry watched as Petunia reached into her apron, removing a handkerchief before dabbing her eyes. “She was a far better person than I was.”
Petunia walked him out, hugging him quickly shortly after their conversation. He left the house feeling slightly lighter than when he arrived. He didn’t know what that meant for the future but that was okay. He didn’t need to know the answers right now.