Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Tent

Chapter 3

by JustAFanficWriter 0 reviews

Harry and Hermione go to Godric's Hollow.

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Erotica,Romance - Characters: Harry,Hermione - Published: 2022-01-30 - 2234 words - Complete


Harry and Hermione apparated into Godric's Hollow, meeting the familiar cold air and snow of Winter. It was beautiful. This was where he was born. His real birthplace.

"I still think we should have used Polyjuice Potion," Hermione said quietly, looking around. There weren't any people around them.

"No," Harry shrugged off. "This is where I was born. I'm not returning as someone else."

There was a small pause, and he felt Hermione squeeze his hand. He didn't even realize that he was still holding it until she did so. They always held hands when they apparated. Touch is required if you want to apparate at the same time. But he usually let go as soon as they arrived at their destination, but he didn't this time. Harry moved his hand so that their fingers were laced together properly. It wasn't like they hadn't held hands before. Before the hunt, they'd held hands. It was one of the few comforting touches that Harry received, and he was almost always willing to accept it.

The two walked forward, turning their heads when a bell rung out. Harry's eyes moved around, until he caught sight of a certain area.

"Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve," Hermione mentioned as her eyes wandered behind them. "Can you hear the bells?"

Harry could certainly hear them, but he couldn't care less. What his eyes landed on, was a cemetery. His mind immediately thought, would his parents be there? Their deaths couldn't have just been forgotten, or unnoticed?

"Do you think they'd be in there?" Harry rung the question in his mind out loud, catching Hermione's attention. "My parents?" She followed his eyes, and thought for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I think they would," Hermione replied.

At that, Harry immediately began walking towards the cemetery. His eyes were running through all the names, trying to search for "Potter," or just anything with a P. He found himself being desperate. His hand felt cold for a couple of seconds, and he glanced over to see that Hermione had walked away from him, checking out graves. Harry didn't mind it too much. He searched for his parents, and then he stopped.

There they were.

In loving memory of

James Potter and Lily Potter

Harry felt his throat tighten, and his vision began to get blurry. He hardly ever cried anymore, but seeing his parents, right in front of him, hurt so bad. He felt a certain longing to sleep under the snow with them, so he could finally be at peace. They'd greet him with bright smiles, like how he'd seen them in the Mirror of Erised. He'd wrap his arms around both of them so tightly that they'd jokingly tell him that he was going to suffocate them. His father would tell him all about his Hogwarts years, and how the marauders were formed. His mother would look him into the eyes, and it'd be like looking in his own. It felt so...warm. So peaceful.

But Harry couldn't be fully at peace as long as Voldemort was alive. He couldn't join his parents. He couldn't abandon the mission. He couldn't abandon all of what Dumbledore had trusted in him to do. He couldn't abandon his friends to fight Voldemort on their own. He couldn't abandon Ron. He certainly couldn't abandon Hermione, for she had been there for him, and never left. He couldn't abandon all the helpless Wizards and Muggles, even though both worlds never treated him so well. He couldn't bring himself to be selfish like that. And he hated it. All he had to do was die, and he'd be with his parents, with Sirius, with everyone he's ever loved, and who ever has loved him.

Harry was so deep into his gloomy thoughts that he barely noticed Hermione standing next to him. She analyzed him for a moment, saying nothing, and then knelt forward. Using her wand, Hermione summoned flowers to put on the Potters's grave, something that it was empty of. Harry smiled sadly. He knew something was missing ever since he found the grave. Hermione figured it out, just like she always has.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."

"Merry Christmas, Harry."

Harry felt that hand envelope his again, and he took it in gladly, giving it a few squeezes. Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, her other arm going to wrap around him. Harry was reminded of his third year, after being attacked by the dementor. He'd felt so cold, and Lupin gave him a piece of chocolate. As soon as he'd taken the first bite, a warm feeling shot throughout his body, and he instantly felt better. That feeling related to the one where Hermione held him, and though Harry was never one to be clingy or affectionate, it felt good every time he received it. Hermione's touch was unique. Ginny hadn't given him this feeling. Not that he didn't feel anything for her at all. Hermione was just...different. It was the only word his mind was allowing him to describe it as.

"They'd want you to keep going," Hermione whispered, almost inaudible to Harry.

Harry thought for a moment. They would. Everyone who died would want him to keep going. Harry suddenly found himself more determined than ever to find those horcruxes, destroy them, and kill Voldemort. He felt the weight of Hermione's head leave his shoulder, making his neck go cold. But he couldn't take his eyes away from the grave. It was like a magnet for his eyes.

"Harry, there's someone watching us," he heard Hermione warn. "By the church."

Harry slowly turned his head to see what she was talking about. There was an old lady dressed in black robes, staring back at them. Harry looked a little closer, and he recognized who it was. Bathilda Bagshot. She had started to walk away once they met eyes, however.

"I think I know who that is," Harry said.

"I don't like this," Hermione told him, releasing his hand and moving slightly backwards. "We shouldn't just-"

"Hermione, he knew Dumbledore," Harry interrupted. "She might know where the sword is."

"And if she doesn't?" Hermione questioned.

"Well...we just leave," Harry replied confusedly, as if the answer was obvious. He had started to walk forward, following Bathilda. After hearing a sigh from behind him, he heard Hermione follow him. He was solely focused on following her, but a dreaded feeling filled his stomach suddenly, and Harry turned to his right. It was a big house. Or, at least the remains of it. Harry knew. He didn't know how, but he just did.

"This is where they died, Hermione," Harry said. Hermione had stopped walking and turned towards him. "This is where he murdered them."

Hermione said nothing, like she usually did when he talked about his parents. And Harry liked it that way. He wanted someone there to listen. Hermione always seemed to be that person.

They turned their heads, an eerie feeling crawling down their spine, and met the eyes of Bathilda Bagshot. She was staring at Harry, and never blinked. The sight of her made Hermione recoil. It just didn't feel right. Harry ignored those feelings.

"You're Bathilda, aren't you?" he asked. She just stared at him for a solid 5 seconds (Hermione counted), until she turned around to walk again. Harry followed her, thinking that she was leading him somewhere. Hermione felt more unsure than ever, but walked closely behind her best friend.

It wasn't long until they finally reached her creaky house. Everything was a mess, and it smelled bad. Bathilda smelled worse. But Harry had bigger things to worry about other than an old lady's smell. Bathilda, with shaking hands, tried to light a candle.

"Here, let me do that," Harry offered, taking the matches from her hand. Bathilda looked up at him. She hasn't said anything since she saw the two teenagers. She stared at Harry with a blank expression. Harry shared the look until he felt awkward and uneasy, and he looked away, at the picture behind her. The man in the picture looked familiar. He walked towards it. "Miss Bagshot, who is this man?"

Bathilda stared at him for another 5 seconds, then picked up the candle. She said nothing as she walked away again, this time upstairs.

"Come," Bathilda called out. Hermione jumped at the sound. Harry didn't see why she did. He was curious, and he followed her.

"Harry," Hermione warned, looking very anxious.

"It'll be fine," Harry told her, but didn't meet her eyes. He followed Bathilda up the stairs. He walked into a strange room, clothes lying everywhere. Harry flinched when he saw that Bathilda was right next to him, looking at him.

"You...are...Potter...?" she said in a questioning tone.

"I am," Harry replied, nodding his head.

He didn't realize that they were both speaking Parseltongue. Bathilda looked down at the horcrux around Harry's neck. Harry felt it beat faster against his chest, and his scar tingled.

"In here," Bathilda said, beckoning towards a table piled with clothes with a shaking finger. Harry quickly moved forward to search for the sword. He threw clothes aside. Why was there so much? When there was nothing underneath the clothes, he searched the many drawers of the many dressers. They all seemed big enough for the sword.

"Hold him..."

Harry froze at the voice. His blood went cold, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

It was Voldemort's voice.

Harry whipped around to see a large snake slithering out of Bathilda's neck. Once it was completely out, Bathilda's body fell to the ground, and the snake hissed at Harry. Harry reached for his wand, but the snake suddenly launched itself at him, missing his head by a few centimeters. It was such a strong launch that it smashed the wall behind them, and Harry's head slammed into the ground. His vision blurred, and he saw the snake in front of him.

Move! he screamed to himself.

Harry shook off the dizziness and stood up, the snake barely missing his neck. He was panicking, throwing random objects that were in the room at the snake. Even if he landed a shot, it hardly deterred it. Harry raced towards the hole that the snake had created in the wall, but he wasn't fast enough.

Fuck it I'm just going to say Nagini bc I'm tired of saying "the snake"

Nagini launched herself at Harry again, this time sinking her fangs into Harry's arm. Harry yelped as she constricted around his body, refusing to back down as he fought against her. Harry's lungs screamed for air as his hand moved around wildly, trying to find something to hit the snake with. His hand landed on a brick from the wall Nagini broke, and he quickly smashed it onto her head. The snake hissed and let go of him, recoiling after the hard impact on her head. Harry quickly fled the room, blood racing out of his arm, looking like it had no intentions of stopping. His vision grew blurry from the blood loss, and he stumbled onto the floor. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and the rest that his body was demanding for. Harry tried to keep on moving, but he always stumbled again. He briefly wondered why the snake hadn't taken him out, since he felt like someone was pulling him backwards.

Harry opened and closed his eyes, trying to clear his vision. He looked up to see Hermione, a horrified look on her face as she held her wand up at Nagini. Harry heard her shout a spell when the snake tried attacking her, and then a loud crash as Nagini fell down the stairs, stunned. Harry forced himself up and onto a nearby bed, looking down the stairs. Hermione, not taking her eyes off that same area, went towards him.

"Where's your wand?" she hissed.

"I-I don't-"

Harry groaned as his arm throbbed from the pain. Hermione searched him frantically, but couldn't find it. She looked around the room, and then her eyes finally landed on Harry's wand. It was just in front of the stairs. Hermione's nerves were at the brink as she slowly reached forward, snatched it, and then moved back as quick as he could. Harry and Hermione watched the stairs.



Nagini's open mouth was the only thing Harry saw, and then Hermione's voice, chanting another spell that hit the snake. Harry's scar suddenly began to hurt, like his head was being ripped open from the inside. Harry looked up to see a blurry figure who he knew was Voldemort.

Hermione didn't give him time to look the Dark Lord over any longer, as she grabbed him roughly by the shirt, apparating them out. Harry heard Voldemort give a frustrated scream, and then his vision grew blurry again. Apparation made it worse, and when it was over, he felt his back hit a very cold ground.

"Oh no...Oh no..." he heard Hermione whimper from not too far away from him. Harry tried to move, but was met with more pain, this time in his arm. This seemed to snap Hermione out of her trance. "Harry! Harry, what-"

"Blood..bleeding...arm..right arm..." Harry mumbled. He felt Hermione tearing off his sweater, and she gasped. Then that was it.

He blacked out.
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