(Y/N)'s POV

Travelling alone with no concrete destination was such a pain, the amount of time I spent staring at this little gobstone in a compass made me hate it with a passion, I never thought I would hold such a deep resentment for an inanimate object.

It worked fine, I assumed it was pointing me to Hermione at every second of the day, but that was the problem, it just never moved more than a couple of centimetres, sometimes it was rooted in directions for hours on end no matter how far I travelled.

This was true of course except for when I was making progress. Every time I seemed to get closer something stopped me making progress. The most common took place almost every morning, I would be hiking in one direction only to find the compass suddenly pointing in another.

That was the only time the orb moved, whenever I had the slightest hope that I was making progress, whenever I felt like my friends were in reach it knocked it all from under me and violently swerved as they presumably apparated from location to location, putting me back to square one.

I don't know if I was imagining things, but there were a few times that I swore I saw them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione before they dissaparated, probably just wishful thinking. But I always felt like I was so close.

That is what made me resent the damned thing, I had thrown it against rocks, trees, pavements, and buildings in frustration, not even getting the satisfaction of it shattering thanks to my unbreakable glass charm.

After a few more days of this maddening routine of bad luck I decided enough was enough and set my sights on my backup plan. Find Godric's Hollow and stay rooted to the spot until they arrived. And that itself was also maddening to some extent.

Hermione had read me A History of Magic about seventy-two times. It was her best 'put us to sleep' book, so how could I have listened to it so many times and only retained all the unimportant bits?

I could tell you that Bowman Wright, forged the first Golden Snitch in Godric's Hollow, but where is that? Not a clue. I could tell you it was written by Bathilda Bagshot, but as for anything useful to me that she wrote within the book, I came up blank.

Any information I found on it was about how it was a historical location and how it was truly a sight to see but never where it was. And it's not like I could just ask around, I'd be in Azkaban before I could get there.

I tried apparating to it, but that was rather difficult for me seeing as I had nothing to visualise and that made me uncertain of my ability, I thought it best to avoid any apparition without concrete proof that I knew where I was going, what good would I be to the others if I showed up to Godric's Hollow missing half a torso or something.

Besides that, there were the numerous other concerns I had to deal with as I travelled the country as a wanted criminal. The biggest issue I faced sounded simple, but it was definitely harder than it sounded, not only did I have to find Godric's Hollow and get there in one piece, but I had to do it without leading a trail straight to me.

Maybe I was being too paranoid but I didn't want to just walk up to a random wizard or witch on the street and asked them if they knew how to get to Godric's Hollow, I thought that might arouse some suspicion.

Do you know how hard it is to travel across the country when everyone in it knows your face and could grass you up to the Ministry, who could then swarm you in minutes? The answer is. Very.

I don't know how Sirius managed it so long. I was half tempted to hand myself in so I wouldn't have to keep scavenging for food and information and looking over my shoulder expecting to be attacked every other minute.

It was only a few days, but my nerves were shot, I kept running into people who looked like aurors, or Greyback's goons, even Dementors at one point, I just felt like I was running on empty.

I think part of this feeling was Yaxley's death was still weighing on me, I know he deserved it and it was self-defence but something about it just made me feel unsettled.

It was a feeling I'd never had to cope with before, a remorse that I didn't necessarily feel I should be going through. I wasn't even sure what to call it.

I didn't regret my actions, he was going to kill me or have my soul sucked out of me, I didn't regret killing him. I regretted having to kill him, that my tricks and plans had run dry, that I had to resort to the most drastic possible action. It just unsettled me.

The only thing that kept me going was the thought of seeing my friends again and making sure they were safe, the thought of seeing Hermione had become my driving force over the past few days.

I'll admit after days of what it felt like was wandering around aimlessly, I started to have some negative thoughts. And I tried to push them to the back of my mind but that doesn't mean they were gone entirely.

I just hope the others had got my weak attempt at a message and they knew that I was searching for them. I hoped being sighted in Harry's old town would be enough. Of course, to any random person reading the Prophet it wouldn't mean anything, but I hoped that the caught on.

But what if they hadn't, what if they were planning another big mission and I was unaware of it and by searching for them I messed it all up. What if they had another Horcrux in their sights and me interfering ruined their chances of getting it?

What if they had already been to Godric's Hollow and left it behind so that me waiting there meant nothing and I was just wasting my time. What if they didn't want me to come back?

Maybe they thought I was a big a monster as the rest of the world did, would they even want me to join back up with them? Would they trust me to? I know they were reluctant to have Lupin join. What if it's the same with me?

Part of me even thought about returning to Hogwarts as a divide and conquer sort of thing, they could deal with Voldemort as I dealt with Snape, though I think I was just a little homesick. I missed my friends.

I remember that Harry and Ron had both warned against it, as would ever other sane person in times like these. I just wanted to be doing something. I hated never making progress, I felt useless. So, I tried my best to harness my frustration.

Cursing my luck and wishing I'd payed more attention to my girlfriend I instead found my way into a muggle library in the middle of a village somewhere in the west of the country and poured through muggle books on local history or geography in hopes that they might somehow give some information regarding my destination.

After hour and hours of searching through Muggle books I finally made a breakthrough. There was a village in the west country which had been built but was mostly overlooked by muggle history books, either too boring or too small to report on.

If that didn't reek of a Wizard populated area, I don't know what did, and its only notable feature that was recorded was it being the birthplace of a knight or something. That had Godric Gryffindor written all over it.

This was it, this had to be it. I quickly put all the books I had strewn about the shop back in order, Hermione's influence over me kicking in a little, then I copied down the map that was in the book to the best of my ability and dissaparated as close as I could to the maps location.

Much to my surprise the weather in this area of the country was vastly different to the relatively gloomy weather that usually surrounded Grimmauld place, or London in general I suppose. I landed with a satisfying crunch on soft snow.

The wind was howling as the cold in the air seemed to intensify, with a quick glance at my compass for old times' sake that showed Hermione was somewhere in the opposite direction, I began walking forward, my heart was set on this, so I trudged towards the town in the hope it was the one I had been searching for.

I promised myself that when I found it I would have ten days, ten days to relax, to unwind and to think, I would wait there for ten days and then I would go back to bowing to the whims of the compass and hope to track down the others.

I convinced myself that was the most amount of time I could spend on something that may not show any results. A week was too short to give up hope, a fortnight seemed too long to waste on a delusion.

But I knew in the back of my head that Harry would come here soon, even if he wasn't with the others, it's fair to say after years of sleeping in the same room as the bloke and basically doing his transfiguration homework for the majority of the time, I think I knew him pretty well.

Once he had his mind set upon coming to the death place of his parents, there were shockingly few forces on earth that could stop him, he's as stubborn as a bicorn. Even if he had to sneak away from the others, I knew he'd come, not that I'd realise without Hermione in tow.

It must have been thirty minutes to an hour before I arrived, heavy snowfall encircled the town. Almost as if the buildings themselves were warding off anyone that would try to enter, but once the threshold was crossed everything changed.

What used to be harsh bitter winds became a gentle chilling breeze, the snow that had whipped and battered against my clothes and chilled me to the bone had become much more gentle, a soft snowfall that reminded me of happier times in Hogsmeade.

I expected more hustle and bustle from the villagers, as if it were a busy high street but that wasn't what I found, it was quiet, but a comforting kind, not eerie or sinister but a comforting change from the organised chaos that was Hogwarts or city life.

If I had to describe it in one word, it was almost the embodiment of everything that I felt summed up the word quaint. Illuminated by frosted over streetlamps I scanned the streets. Finding a narrow road with look-a-like cottages that resided on either side of it.

Streetlights illuminated the square. There was also a little church, it was almost like it was made up, like from a children's book, it was the perfect little out of the way village. But no matter how pretty it was, I was still freezing, so I decided it was best for me to find a warm place to stay for my allotted time.

Harry's POV

After Ron's departure, we were both in low spirits, I had taken to scanning the Marauders Map in search of Ron, who was no doubt eager to return to Hogwarts, protected by being a pure blood, that and I had also been checking up on Ginny, but only a few times.

Hermione was taking more watches than ever, she had insisted it was because I had 'dozed off' during my last shift so surely, I wasn't fit to have the responsibility of keeping a lookout.

But I knew that it was so she would be the first one to catch sight of (Y/N) and Ron when they returned, which she assured me they would any day now.

As the days drew on, I begun to long for some change in routine, so I offered a plan to Hermione. She interrupted me before I could, but it led to a bit of progress.

"Hermione?" "Hmm?" She was curled up in one of the sagging armchairs with The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She had read the book through and through so many times it was a wonder she couldn't recite it word for word.

But evidently, she was still deciphering something in it, because Spellman's Syllabary lay open on the arm of the chair, held open by her odd-looking compass as it's marble stayed affixed firmly in place only twisting and turning every few hours or so.

I cleared my throat, as if this would make my argument more compelling. "Hermione, I've been thinking, and—" "Harry, could you help me with something?" Apparently, she had not been listening to me. She leaned forward and held out The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

"Look at that symbol," she said, pointing to the top of a page. Above what I assumed was the title of the story there was a picture of what looked like a triangular eye, its pupil crossed with a vertical line. "I never took Ancient Runes, Hermione."

"I know that, but it isn't a rune and it's not in the syllabary, either. All along I thought it was a picture of an eye, but I don't think it is! It's been inked in, look, somebody's drawn it there, it isn't really part of the book. Think, have you ever seen it before?"

"No . . . No, wait a moment." I looked closer, my memory sparking something. "Isn't it the same symbol Luna's dad was wearing round his neck?" "Well, that's what I thought too!" "Then it's Grindelwald's mark." I said, thinking it was common knowledge

She stared at me, open mouthed. "What?" So, I recounted the story that Viktor Krum had told me at the wedding. Hermione looked astonished. "Grindelwald's mark?" She looked from me to the weird symbol and back again.

"I've never heard that Grindelwald had a mark. There's no mention of it in anything I've ever read about him." "Well, like I say, Krum reckoned that symbol was carved on a wall at Durmstrang, and Grindelwald put it there." She fell back into the old armchair, frowning.

"That's very odd. If it's a symbol of Dark Magic, what's it doing in a book of children's stories?" "Yeah, it is weird," said Harry. "And you'd think Scrimgeour would have recognised it. He was Minister, he ought to have been expert on Dark stuff." "I know. . . . Perhaps he thought it was an eye, just like I did. All the other stories have little pictures over the titles."

Since she was seemingly happy with the breakthrough, I tried again. "Hermione?" "Hmm?" "I've been thinking. I — I want to go to Godric's Hollow."

She looked up at me, but her eyes were unfocused, she was still thinking about the mysterious mark on the book. After a few seconds, she gave her answer.

(Y/N)'s POV

After walking for a few minutes, I soon found myself entering the church on one side of the town, it was clearly very old and the stonework could have used some refurbishing but it beat standing out in the snow.

The interior was rather simple, just what you'd expect from an old church in the middle of nowhere, a few pews covered in dust and a podium looking spot for a speaker to read from.

The only ornate part of the church was a rather impressive stained-glass window. I'm sure it would have been more impressive if snow hadn't fallen so heavily that the actual image depicted was lost to the falling specs of white outside.

It was oddly charming, the snowfall outside reflected the glass to make it look like the shadows that danced along the floor were some sort of falling star. It was quite pretty in a way. It was under these faux stars that I had my first good sleep in a while.

After I awoke and stretched my sore muscles I headed back outside, walking along the cobbled streets of the village. As my stomach rumbled, I was keen on finding some food, preferably cooked food and not the canned foods and cold takeaways I had gotten used to.

That was until my attention was directed towards something else that I didn't notice yesterday thanks to the much heavier snowfall. At first, I thought it was just a statue with some names on it. But I felt compelled to get closer.

I was happy I did, as I stepped underneath it the obscuring spells lifted and something else was in in its place, something magnificent. It was a statue of two incredibly happy people holding a very happy baby.

It was a memorial, a memorial to the Potters, who had tragically lost their lives to protect Harry. James and Lily Potter, with a baby Harry in their loving arms. A bittersweet joy welled up into my chest and I found myself getting watery eyed.

I had a feeling that it was carved by someone who had known them, someone who had seen how happy they were, the little details that were captured, little laugh lines and an odd glow that seemed present in their eyes even in a statue was too perfect to be from just a picture.

I didn't really know what to do, I didn't know them, but I had a sense of gratitude towards them that was hard to explain. I didn't want to go to the graves, I felt like it was a little bit too personal, it felt oddly intrusive. Plus, I disliked graveyards in general.

"Thank you for everything you did for him, I wish I could have met you, you seemed like brilliant people. I'll keep him safe for you, rest well." I said, tracing my fingers over the bottom of the statue.

I spent the rest of the day wandering around the town, waving at the locals who seemed too cheery to care about who I was, I found some hot food from a local pub and managed to buy some ink from the post office, which gave me an idea of something I wanted to do for Ron.

Then I continued my stroll, glancing at my compass every few minutes, I came across the Potter house, it too was protected from Muggles, much to my surprise a large chunk of it had been seemingly exploded outwards.

It was yet another monument to the Potters, it was kind of charming that it was still left standing. According to the sign that had been set in the ground outside of the cottage, it had been preserved in "its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family."

There were a few cases of graffiti on the sign, words of support for Harry, I decided to add graffiti and vandalism to my rap sheet. I simply put the words "(Y/N) (L/N) was here. Go team Harry" on the sign.

It was more of a way to leave a message for the others for when they visited then to show my support. With that done I spent the rest of the day walking about and wasting time, after stopping to do something for Ron in the local pub again.

This was how a few days passed by, I wasn't necessarily doing anything, but I felt like I was, that's why I kept my hands busy with tinkering. I slept on benches most days, or the pews of the church if I managed to get inside.

Each day I would tie the compass around my neck loosely and hope that any movement would wake me if they arrived, after all, the closer they were together, the harder the gobstone was fighting to meet its pair, another design flaw really.

It was always the first thing I looked at when I woke up and the last thing I saw at night. But It wasn't until over a week later that I was stirred awake by the clattering of the stone against its glass. Hope reinvigorated, I chased after the counterpart, knowing this could be my last chance.

Hermione's POV

"All this snow!" I whispered beneath the cloak. "Why didn't we think of snow? After all our precautions, we'll leave prints! We'll just have to get rid of them, you go in front, I'll do it" I turned to wipe away our trail, but Harry had other ideas.

"Let's take off the Cloak," said Harry, and before I could protest and argue it goes against the whole point of being sneaky he spoke again, "Oh, come on, we don't look like us and there's no one around."

He stowed the Cloak under his jacket and we made our way forward unhampered, the icy air stinging our faces as we passed more cottages: Any one of them might have been the one in which James and Lily had once lived or where Bathilda lived now.

There were several shops, a post office, a pub, and a little church whose stained-glass windows were glowing jewel-bright across the square. The snow here had become impacted: It was hard and slippery where people had trodden on it all day.

Villagers were crisscrossing in front of us, their figures briefly illuminated by streetlamps. They heard a snatch of laughter and pop music as the pub door opened and closed; then they heard a carol start up outside a nearby house.

"Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve!" I said as it dawned on me. "Is it?" We had lost track of the date; they had not seen a newspaper since (Y/N)'s sighting. "I'm sure it is," I confirmed, trying to do the maths in my head.

"They . . . they'll be in there, won't they? Your mum and dad? I can see the graveyard behind it." Halfway across the square, however, I stopped dead, something caught my eye from my peripheral vision and I thought it might have been important for him to see.

"Harry, look!" I pointed at the war memorial. As we had passed it, it had transformed. Instead of an obelisk covered in names, there was a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother's arms.

A man passed by us in quite a hurry and darted into a nearby pub, I jumped a little at the suddenness of it all, but I think I had been a little on edge lately, actually, come to think of it, he sort of looked like...(Y/N)

No, there was no way. I had been thinking I'd seen him a lot recently, just wishful thinking I imagine, I discarded the thought and turned back to Harry. Snow lay upon all their heads, like fluffy white caps.

Harry drew closer, gazing up into his parents' faces. Staring at it in amazement for a brief second, but it must have been too much for him to handle. "C'mon," said Harry, when he had looked his fill, and they turned again toward the church.

As we turned towards it there was a ruckus from inside the local pub, laughter and cheering all round, I imagine someone had just scored a penalty or something of the like.

(Y/N)'s POV

Being awoken by a violent lurch was one thing, running as fast as you could through a snowy village seconds after you had woken up, was another. I'm sure I looked like some sort of Inferi, belting it down Church Lane.

I had forgotten all about my worries and doubts about seeing them, I didn't care if I ruined their plans, I just knew my friends were close and I was determined to see them, even for a second.

My lungs were burning and my vision was blurred, I was still groggy from being woken up, I didn't know the time, the date or even where I had started from, I was just running in the direction my compass dictated.

It was either very early or very late, I didn't know which, but the sky was a dull grey and the constant snowfall wasn't helping either. I could barely see the sun through the cloud cover, or was it the moon? Who cares anymore!

As I rounded a corner I slipped on some ice along the path and my ankle was not very happy, I was definitely going to feel that in about a minute, but in the moment. I couldn't care less.

Despite tripping and stumbling a few times I was headed to my destination as quickly as my legs could carry me. Glancing down at my compass any chance I got.

They were here! Or at least close, close enough that it would set off my compass, I just hoped Hermione was looking at hers too, meeting me halfway would be really helpful right now. Regardless I dashed through the village in the hope that I wasn't too late.

I pushed past a group of carollers as they sung a cheery tune, I barged through them, feigning my rudeness as slipping on the ice, "Sorry!" I called as I went back to full sprint and they all groaned and swore at me.

On my way past the memorial I passed a couple of muggles who seemed to be tourists, not paying them any mind, I looked down. My compass was going mental, I had to keep moving in case I was running out of time. But she should be right around here

I scanned the streets for a mess of brown hair I had been dreaming of for weeks. Or a flash of the invisibility cloak in the snow, but I couldn't find any. I ran into a local pub. Asking the barkeeper frantically if he had seen anyone that fit their descriptions.

The barkeeper seemed oddly bemused by my frantic behaviour but shook his head, feeling a little downtrodden he said "I'll keep a lookout." "Thank you" I said, turning to leave, "Merry Christmas" he called out.

In shock I turned back, "What?" "Christmas innit" he said flatly as a drunken man at the bar laughed heartily, I went to leave but tripped on my own foot in my hurry, they found it very funny.

"Blimey, 'how many 'ave you 'ad?" said a particularly drunk man as he helped me to my feet. I didn't answer, instead I ran back outside as my compass pointed back where I had come from.

"You've got to be kidding, after all this time. Now is when it acts up!" I shook it angrily and jogged in the direction it pointed me. That's when it clicked, It wasn't acting up. I was just an IDIOT!

Hermione's POV

On either side of the slippery path to the church doors, the snow lay deep and untouched. We moved off through the snow, carving deep trenches behind us as we walked around the building, keeping to the shadows beneath the brilliant windows.

Behind the church, row upon row of snowy tombstones protruded from a blanket of pale blue that was flecked with dazzling red, gold, and green wherever the reflections from the stained glass hit the snow.

Keeping our eyes peeled, we travelled in near silence through the graveyard, until Harry found something, "Look at this, it's an Abbott, could be some long-lost relation of Hannah's!" "Keep your voice down," I urged him, we don't know who could be watching.

We waded deeper and deeper into the graveyard, gouging dark tracks into the snow behind us, stooping to peer at the words on old headstones, every now and then squinting into the surrounding darkness to make absolutely sure that we were unaccompanied.

"Harry, here!" I called out from two rows away, "Is it — ?" "No, but look!" I pointed to the dark stone. Harry stooped down upon the frozen, lichen-spotted granite, the words Kendra Dumbledore and, a short way below her dates of birth and death, and Her Daughter Ariana.

There was also a quotation: "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." "So Rita Skeeter and Muriel had got some of their facts right." Harry commented, The Dumbledore family had indeed lived here, and part of it had died here.

Curiosity got the best of me, "Are you sure he never mentioned-?" I began. "No," said Harry curtly, then, "let's keep looking," and he turned away, looking rather bitter.

"Here!" I cried again a few moments later before realising my mistake upon further inspection. "Oh no, sorry! I thought it said Potter." But as I got a better look at it I found something fascinating "Harry, come back a moment."

He sighed and grudgingly made his way back through the snow toward me. "What?" he said tiredly, "Look at this!" The grave was extremely old, weathered so that I couldn't make out the name.

But what wasn't worn down was the symbol beneath it. "Harry, that's the mark in the book!" He peered at the place I indicated "Yeah . . . it could be. . . ." I lit my wand and pointed it at the name on the headstone.

"It says Ig — Ignotus, I think. . . ." He didn't seem to care. "I'm going to keep looking for my parents, all right?" There was a slight edge to his voice, and he set off again, leaving me crouched beside the old grave. "Oh...yes...of course" I said softly, feeling silly that I'd forgotten what we'd come here for.

It took me a couple of minutes, but eventually I found them, both excitement and sadness hit me at the sight of the stone. I yelled out to Harry as clearly as I could "Harry, they're here . . . right here." There was no mistaking it this time.

He moved toward me, the headstone was only two rows behind Kendra and Ariana's. It was made of white marble, just like Dumbledore's tomb, and this made it easy to read, as it seemed to shine in the dark.

Words were engraved upon it. "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death." I found it oddly fitting, they weren't scared, they just wanted Harry safe, Voldemort wasn't the only enemy they defeated all those years ago.

He read the last of them aloud. "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. . .Isn't that a Death Eater idea? Why is that there?"

"It doesn't mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry," I said softly, trying to be respectful and not sound condescending. "It means . . . you know . . . living beyond death. Living after death."

In a moment of understandable vulnerability, Harry began to break down in front of the graves of his parents, tears fell and he couldn't control his emotions, knowing there was nothing I could really do to help him but I hoped that giving his hand a squeeze was some comfort at least.

He squeezed it back, as both a thank you and a reassurance that he would be fine, but I understood and we spent some time in front of the graves, allowing him to process any feelings he had.

After a few minutes of grief, I raised my wand, moved it in a circle through the air, and a wreath of Christmas roses blossomed. Harry caught it and laid it on his parents' grave. He didn't have to say anything, I could tell from his expression that he wanted to leave. I gave him a small nod and we walked away.

As soon as he stood up, we turned in silence and walked away through the snow, past Dumbledore's mother and sister, back toward the dark church and the out-of-sight kissing gate.

After a few seconds a chill ran down my spine, I looked around and some movement caught my eye "Harry, stop." "What's wrong?" We had only just reached the grave of the unknown Abbott. "There's someone there. Someone watching us. I can tell. There, over by the bushes."

We stood quite still, gazing at the dense black boundary of the graveyard. Harry squinted into the darkness, "Are you sure?" "I saw something move; I could have sworn I did. . . ." I began to free my wand arm.

"We look like Muggles," Harry pointed out, but that didn't matter. "Muggles who've just been laying flowers on your parents' grave! Harry, I'm sure there's someone over there! A History of Magic said the graveyard was supposed to be haunted: what if-?"

"It's a cat," said Harry, after a second or two, "or a bird. If it was a Death Eater we'd be dead by now. But let's get out of here, and we can put the Cloak back on." I glanced back repeatedly as they made our way out of the graveyard. We were both glad to reach the gate and the slippery pavement.

(Y/N)'s POV

I soon found myself hobbling back the way I had originally sprinted, following the whims of the compass. Looking quite mental if I do say so myself.

I was back at the church before I realised, I groaned, they were really giving me the run around here. I walked over to the graveyard and was about to enter it for the first time when I think I saw someone watching from the bushes. But I blinked and they were gone.

I was a little worried but I threw caution to the wind and went searching for the grave they had most likely come to visit. I found it in a minute or two, some flowers lay over the headstone, a clear indicator that they were here.

Yet again I was met with disappointment that I had only just missed them. I was going to keep following the compass, but knowing I was probably running out of time on their most likely very quick visit. I followed my gut instead.

Hermione's POV

We pulled the Invisibility Cloak back over ourselves. The pub was fuller than before: Many voices inside it were now singing the carol that we had heard as we approached the church. I could tell Harry wanted to go inside but I thought it was best to stay out of sight.

I had the sinking feeling we were being followed. "Let's go this way," I pulled him down the dark street leading out of the village in the opposite direction from which we had entered.

After thirty seconds of silence I asked. "How are we going to find Bathilda's house?" making sure to keep glancing back over my shoulder. "Harry? What do you think? Harry?" I tugged at his arm, but Harry was not paying attention.

He was looking toward the dark mass that stood at the very end of this row of houses. In the next moment he had sped up, dragging me along with him; causing me slip a little on the ice. "Harry-" "Look. . . . Look at it, Hermione. . . ."

I was quite confused, "I don't . . . oh!" I could see it; the Fidelius Charm must have died with James and Lily. The hedge had grown wild in the sixteen years since Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble that lay scattered amongst the waist-high grass.

Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart; that was where the curse had backfired. We stood at the gate, gazing up at the wreck of what must once have been a cottage just like those that flanked it.

"I wonder why nobody's ever rebuilt it?" I whispered, "Maybe you can't rebuild it?" Harry replied. "Maybe it's like the injuries from Dark Magic and you can't repair the damage?" He slipped a hand from beneath the Cloak and grasped the snowy and thickly rusted gate.

"You're not going to go inside? It looks unsafe, it might — oh, Harry, look!" His touch on the gate seemed to have done it. A sign had risen out of the ground in front of them, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it said:

"On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family."

And all around these neatly lettered words, scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still others had left messages.

The most recent of these, shining brightly over sixteen years' worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things. "Good luck, Harry, wherever you are." "If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you!" "Long live Harry Potter."

"They shouldn't have written on the sign!" I said, indignant. But Harry beamed at me. "It's brilliant. I'm glad they did. I . . ." He broke off. "Wait..." He pointed to a set of words that looked very recent, recognisable handwriting.

I'd know it anywhere; I almost broke down crying just seeing it. "(Y/N) (L/N) was here. Go team Harry." It looked recent! He had been here! I looked to Harry and we shred a knowing glance to each other and a hopeful smile.

Before we could speculate further our questions were answered. "You lot should be careful you know. There's criminals about, they might sneak up on you." Chuckled a voice I had been longing to hear for too long. I turned on the spot and my heart nearly burst.

(Y/N)'s POV

For all I know I was talking to a plaque, but I had a feeling they would come here, after all, they visited the statue didn't they, so it was logical they would come here too. And of course, they would be under the cloak, that's why I couldn't find them earlier.

I waited until my compass pointed dead ahead and assumed that they were there, then I waited until I heard rustling where they stood and announced myself. As soon as I ha said it the cloak was on the floor.

Then I felt even more stupid because turning to look at me was the odd Muggle couple earlier who I had overlooked entirely. I gave them a nervous wave as Hermione broke down. "Miss me?"

There were tears pouring down her cheeks immediately, similarly mine were getting watery too, she was shaking, either from the cold or the shock. Her hands rushed to cover her mouth, "Oh thank god, thank god...we thought...I thought I'd..." she tailed off.

"We thought you were dead, we thought Yaxley had-" she began as I stepped forwards to embrace her, but Harry stopped me. "STOP!" he shouted, I froze, he pointed his wand at me.

"Oh not this again!" I grumbled, "If I wasn't me, why would I have this?" I said, holding up my compass, Hermione wiped some tears from her eyes and pointed her wand at me too.

"You...you could have taken it from his...b-body" she said the last word in a very small voice. "Well, how would I know what it does then? Also, I am offended that you think I couldn't take Corban Yaxley. The guy throws me off a castle one time."

Hermione stepped forwards once, but Harry stopped her, "A Death Eater would know that" she glanced at me and then back to Harry, "Tell us something only he would know!"

I sighed. Thinking of something, I pointed to Hermione "The first gift I ever got you was a signed copy of Hogwarts: A History because it was the only book I'd ever paid attention to you reading. But I didn't pay enough attention because I couldn't find this place."

I sorted through my rushed memories as quickly as I could, thinking of anything that only I would know. It was weird, I had been thinking of them for weeks and the memories of them were all that got me through it, but now I was tasked with finding one my mind was empty.

"Harry, uh, fourth year, I tried to switch dragons with you because I didn't want to fight Norberta, but they wouldn't let me." He lowered his wand, grinning from ear to ear. She lowered her wand, but I continued just because I could, even as she ran towards me.

"Hogsmeade third year..." I smiled widely and got ready for the backlash. "They were-" before I could envision the colour my eyesight was obscured by an unknown woman tackling me to the cold ground.

A shiver hit my entire body at once, my back seemed to seize up because of the cold, it woke me up though I can say that much. I was content with just hugging her, holding her in my arms but Hermione peppered me with small kisses over my entire face as if she was afraid I'd fade away if she didn't.

"Oh, so you did miss m-" I was cut off by her lips finding mine. It was very strange kissing her like this, because it was her, but it wasn't her lips if that makes sense. The intention and movements were the same, the emotion was the same, but it felt foreign.

It felt like a hot eternity before we broke apart, my entire body felt as if I'd just been in a warm bath, I felt a comfort that I had sorely missed for weeks. The same feeling I had been searching for every day.

I pulled away and looked into her eyes, which were filled with tears and pressed my forehead to hers, as if It was a way to say "Hello" she smiled at me and it was her smile, a Hermione smile. The same one I dreamt of.

The brilliance of the moment made us both devolve into childish giggles, as if floodgates of emotion was opening for the first time, as if all the happiness I had missed out on over the weeks was suddenly pouring out of me after all this time.

She pulled me into a hug and began trying to whisper apologies for something or other in my ear, I shushed her and squeezed tighter, then I sat us up and realised we were both strewn about the cold, icy, wet ground like absolute prats.

Lifting her to her feet and wiping her face of tears I noticed that Harry was just waiting awkwardly for us to finish. Kissing Hermione's forehead quickly, as much as it pained me to, I broke off from Hermione and walked towards him.

"So much for having good balance eh?" he chuckled, "Oh sod off, we're on ice" We both laughed like maniacs and hugged each other tightly too. "I missed you all so much" he pat my back, "Us too mate, glad you're back."

"Yeah, just try and get rid of me now." I chuckled, still feeling overly emotional and excitable. "Harry, how good are you at the Muffliato charm? Can you do it on yourself?" I asked.

He shrugged "Dunno. Why?" I shook my head, "Don't worry, we can worry about that later." "What happened to you" He asked as we broke apart.

I spent a few minutes explaining everything that happened at Grimmauld Place, omitting the gory details but explaining everything that led up to now. "-I was sleeping in the church up until about five minutes ago." I finished.

"Sleeping? It's the afternoon" said Hermione firmly, I shrugged, "I was tired and they had already stopped the service to go for a pint and watch a film about a magic snowman. Y'know, like adults."

Then I got to the show and tell part, "Did you see this?" I said, pulling out the poster of me that the Ministry has pinned up. "Cool right?" I smiled as the read it in absolute horror. "I might go beat up some carolers or something when we leave, try for the number one spot."

"This isn't something to laugh about" Hermione scolded me. I didn't realise I missed that so much, but Harry chortled a bit. "Well, I think that's a matter of opinion, I was thinking about hanging it in my room." I laughed,

She smiled and shook her head, resting her head on my arm. Now the person in the bushes made sense, It must have been Ron, keeping a lookout for them, probably obscured by magic. No doubt Hermione's idea of staying safe.

But I found it odd he didn't come to greet me. I looked around the street, seeing if I could find him, when I couldn't I decided to ask, "Where's Ron?"