Chapter 3: Goodnight
The hot sun beat down upon three differently colored heads, darkening their hair and burning their necks. The hot desert wind blew all around them, whipping dust into their faces. A tall, dark-haired boy- or was he a man yet? - turned to a red headed girl. “You’re mine, and you always will be. Always,” he said viciously, his dark eyes glittering with malice. He pulled out a long glittering blade, plunging it into the heart of a third person, a fair-haired boy. The fair one writhed around in pain, clutching his hair as dozens of snakes began pouring out of his chest. There was no blood. He shuddered convulsively, and then lay still. The girl opened her mouth and a high-pitched, keening scream filled the air, as the dark one slowly choked her with his fingers, and his very presence. She tried to fight him, but he was too strong. Her fingers scrabbled at her neck, trying to loosen his death grip. She could feel the darkness closing in upon her, the edges of her world turning black-
Rough hands shook her awake, saying something, but Ginny couldn’t make it out. The screaming would not stop; she had to stop the screaming! It was then she realized it was coming from her own mouth, and clamped it shut. Tears were streaming down her face, and she was shivering uncontrollably, cold sweat forming a fine film across her brow. Suddenly a pale face loomed towards her through the darkness, and Ginny almost had a heart attack. It’s only Malfoy, Ginny. Only Malfoy? Who was she kidding? She might as well be having tea with You-Know-Who! Ginny took deep, gasping breaths, trying to calm herself down. Those pale eyes watched her, unblinking, and it certainly wasn’t helping her at all. Finally Malfoy broke the silence, his voice sounding unnaturally loud to her sensitive ears. “Are you quite done playing ugly Banshee from Hell, Weasley?”
Ginny stiffened, all worries of the dream fleeing her mind. “You would know, Malfoy. One of them gave birth to you,” she spat. “But I’m quite alive, thanks for the concern.”
Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her, hissing, “Leave my mother out of this. She’s never done anything to you.”
“Except give birth to you, you mean?” Ginny honestly didn’t know why she was getting so riled up. She’d never spoken to Malfoy like this before, on her own behalf. But she had also been drooling after Harry, before.
Malfoy suddenly stood up, coming out of the shadows. The moonlight bounced off of his hair, highlighting his profile and making him look ethereal. He towered over Ginny, and she was surprised at that fact. Was he always this tall? Her musings were interrupted as he bit out, “That’s more than one can say for your ‘mother’, you stupid bitch.” He began backing out of the room. “Now do let the bed bugs bite, Weasley. It’ll help make the world a better place. Goodnight.”
Neither had a good night.
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A breeze whipped around Harry, buffeting his broomstick with its chilly gusts. The sun was just rising, illuminating the sky with vivid oranges and pinks, casting a halo around Harry’s head. How utterly misleading…if only they knew what he was doing right now. He had been riding his broomstick for several days, with only a vague idea as to where he was going. He only knew that he had to stop all this, had to stop Voldemort before he could take any more lives. The weight of the prophecy weighed heavily upon Harry’s shoulders, making him feel old and weary. But before Harry could sink even further into his own self-pity, he spotted a small valley, dotted with houses. He descended, feeling something almost tugging at him, as though urging him onwards. It feels like the veela, Harry thought to himself. He should have known then…
Instead, Harry followed the gentle tugging, allowing it to lead him to a small, two-story cottage. Welsh poppies grew wild around it, filling the surrounding area with swatches of vibrant color. Nearby, there was a sort of courtyard that seemed out of place, dirty and crumbling. But the rest looked almost…dreamlike. Harry just stood for a moment, dropping his broom and trunk in awe. He had never seen such a beautiful place, not even Hogwarts. I shouldn’t be here. He was about to turn around when a petite brunette woman stepped outside. She was humming a tune to herself, to a song that Harry thought he knew. She stopped when she saw him. Harry wasn’t sure whether to run or not, but a moment later his mind was made up for him. “Hello,” she called softly. “I don’t recognize you. Are you new here?”
“Er…you could say that, yeah,” Harry stammered, caught completely off guard.
“Oh well, come right in! Godric’s Hollow is a great place, real cozy. If you’re looking for loads of solitude and privacy, you’ve come to the right place,” she said cheerfully, leading him inside. “I’m Heather Bayliss, by the way, but everyone around here calls me Hetty. Who are you?”
Again, Harry was caught off guard. He had actually gotten used to people recognizing him on sight, and offering his name had become rare. “Harry.” The less she knew about him, the better. “Nice place you’ve got here,” he murmured, looking around at the bright colors and quilts everywhere. It was a sharp contrast to Aunt Petunia’s pale, practical style and Mrs. Figg’s crazy old woman style. Then what she had said hit him, and he nearly staggered back with the enormity of the revelation. He was in Godric’s Hollow! He could be inches away from his first home!
Hetty answered in that same chipper voice, oblivious to his odd reaction. “Thanks. Would you like some tea? Feel free to ask me anything, because for all we know we could be neighbors soon!”
Harry thought fast.
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“I am bored,” Narcissa said.
“You could help a little bit over here, you know. Then you wouldn’t be so horribly bored. God forbid your boredom!” Molly Weasley was in a very testy mood. Working day in and day out like a house elf to fulfill the needs of this horrible, snobby, aristocratic woman was enough to put anyone in a bad mood.
“Oh no, that’s quite all right,” said Narcissa. She sat elegantly, not a hair out of place, sharply contrasted among her shabby surroundings. Molly, on the other hand, was not fairing nearly as well. “It is rather entertaining watching you waddle around. I can’t believe now how the Prewitts’ would brag about their beautiful Mollykins. I’ve never seen such an ugly creature in my life!”
That’s IT! “I find it hard to believe you’ve never gazed at your husband,” Molly snarled, her whole face bright crimson in her rage.
Narcissa stood up, radiating anger as well now. “Don’t you dare speak about my husband in that way! Don’t you have some cleaning or something to do? Pollute the world with more of your filthy redheaded children, perhaps?”
“Oh right, because your son isn’t a terror to humanity at all,” snapped Molly, her eyes flashing. She looked a bit like a mother hen. A very angry mother hen.
“At least I knew when to stop!”
Molly’s eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Then she gave a frustrated little scream and stomped up the stairs.
Narcissa watched her waddling backside with no little amount of amusement.
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“Er, I guess I will have some tea, thanks,” Harry grunted. As Hetty bustled about the kitchen, preparing the tea, he took the time to sort out his thoughts. By the time she returned with two steaming mugs, he had come to a very firm decision. “Thank you,” murmured Harry.
“No problem. I was going to make some anyways. Are you sure you don’t have any questions? If you haven’t moved in yet, I can show you some really nice houses further down, or tell you what the climate’s like, quite nice most of the time, but occasionally-” Hetty paused her chatter for a sip of tea, and Harry took the opportunity to jump in.
“Actually, Hetty, I was wondering…have you been living here- splendid house, really- long?” Harry was not used to charming people with words. He was not good at it. Give him a wand and he could ‘charm’ anything, really. But somehow, this just wasn’t the same.
Hetty didn’t seem to notice his discomfiture. Truth be told, she didn’t seem to notice much of anything. No wonder she lived by herself. “I’ve been living in this very cottage all my life, actually,” she said brightly.
Harry drew in a sharp breath. If she had lived here all her life, she must know…”Then you could tell me who Lily and James Potter were?” he gushed excitedly. So close…!
Hetty looked up in surprise, “Well…yes, they were my neighbors till about 15 years ago. How on earth do you know the Potters’?”
Neighbors! They lived next door! Harry flattened his bangs nervously, attempting a casual shrug. “Er…we were good friends, I guess you could say.”
“Oh, really? What a small world! They were wonderful people. It’s just such a shame they had to move away…they had this darling little boy, very cute, and I was so looking forward to babysitting. I could have used the money back then, let me tell you…” Hetty’s droned on, but Harry had stopped listening. Moved away?
He didn’t realize that he had voiced his question out loud until Hetty chirped, “Oh yes, moved away. I have no idea where, of course, it happened so suddenly, all of us in the village were ever so surprised. Demolished their house and everything!”
And then Harry understood. The Ministry of Magic couldn’t very well leave all these Muggles in full knowledge of what really happened. They must have wiped their memories and replaced it with something else to explain the Potter’s absence. “Oh…that’s too bad. Um, too bad that you don’t know where they went, I mean. I was hoping you would. But maybe you could tell me a bit about them?” Too late, Harry realized his mistake.
Hetty did too. She narrowed her eyes at him, “Didn’t you say you were a good friend of them? Come to think of it, you’re not nearly old enough to have known them. You can’t be much more than 16 years old!”
Desperately, he tried to save himself. “I, er, what I meant was…Well see, we’re not really friends, I’m just…” God, what am I? “…a distant relative!” said Harry triumphantly. Of course…why didn’t I say that before?
She didn’t seem too bright, for she accepted his explanation without any further questions. “Aw, that is so sad! You know, you really do look a bit like Mr. Potter. Well I can’t tell you much, since I was only about 10 when they moved away myself, but I remember they were both beautiful. Mrs. Potter was just, wow, all the boys in the village pub always talked about her. And Mr. Potter, well, let’s just say that he was the hot topic in all the tea parties.” Hetty’s eyes had glazed over slightly, and she continued on quite dreamily. “Oh, everyone always cursed Mrs. Potter, for snagging him up before the rest of us. She was so perfect; I think they were all jealous. Perfect husband, perfect child, perfect looks, perfect job…it was kind of hard not to get jealous,” finished Hetty. “Oh, I’m sorry, was I rambling? Forgive me, I do that a lot, you just have to sto-”
“Stop,” said Harry firmly, his head swimming with all this new information. He felt proud of his parents. They seemed to have made quite an impression on this little village. Then he remembered what Hetty had just said. “Perfect job…?” he offered.
“Oh yes, perfect job. She was a cop, or something. Her and Mr. Potter both. Oh, that really upped the ladies fantasies. You should have seen how excited they got in the Knitting Club!”
Cop, cop…what is the wizard equivalent of a cop? Oh my God, my parents were Aurors!
“Oh yes, and then everyone heard about this great big spat that they had. They never fight, you know, being the perfect couple and all. But they did, and it was about some boy,” said Hetty gleefully. “I remember it well. Me and my cousin Vicky overheard while we were…watering the poppies outside their window. Mr. Potter was mad and saying things about greasy hair. It was wonderful,” she finished happily.
“Tell me more.”
_____________________
Authors Note: Thanks so much to all the reviewers! Next chapter, find out more about Lily and James, and what happens between the Weasleys’ and the Malfoys’. And I won’t say no to more reviews.
The hot sun beat down upon three differently colored heads, darkening their hair and burning their necks. The hot desert wind blew all around them, whipping dust into their faces. A tall, dark-haired boy- or was he a man yet? - turned to a red headed girl. “You’re mine, and you always will be. Always,” he said viciously, his dark eyes glittering with malice. He pulled out a long glittering blade, plunging it into the heart of a third person, a fair-haired boy. The fair one writhed around in pain, clutching his hair as dozens of snakes began pouring out of his chest. There was no blood. He shuddered convulsively, and then lay still. The girl opened her mouth and a high-pitched, keening scream filled the air, as the dark one slowly choked her with his fingers, and his very presence. She tried to fight him, but he was too strong. Her fingers scrabbled at her neck, trying to loosen his death grip. She could feel the darkness closing in upon her, the edges of her world turning black-
Rough hands shook her awake, saying something, but Ginny couldn’t make it out. The screaming would not stop; she had to stop the screaming! It was then she realized it was coming from her own mouth, and clamped it shut. Tears were streaming down her face, and she was shivering uncontrollably, cold sweat forming a fine film across her brow. Suddenly a pale face loomed towards her through the darkness, and Ginny almost had a heart attack. It’s only Malfoy, Ginny. Only Malfoy? Who was she kidding? She might as well be having tea with You-Know-Who! Ginny took deep, gasping breaths, trying to calm herself down. Those pale eyes watched her, unblinking, and it certainly wasn’t helping her at all. Finally Malfoy broke the silence, his voice sounding unnaturally loud to her sensitive ears. “Are you quite done playing ugly Banshee from Hell, Weasley?”
Ginny stiffened, all worries of the dream fleeing her mind. “You would know, Malfoy. One of them gave birth to you,” she spat. “But I’m quite alive, thanks for the concern.”
Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her, hissing, “Leave my mother out of this. She’s never done anything to you.”
“Except give birth to you, you mean?” Ginny honestly didn’t know why she was getting so riled up. She’d never spoken to Malfoy like this before, on her own behalf. But she had also been drooling after Harry, before.
Malfoy suddenly stood up, coming out of the shadows. The moonlight bounced off of his hair, highlighting his profile and making him look ethereal. He towered over Ginny, and she was surprised at that fact. Was he always this tall? Her musings were interrupted as he bit out, “That’s more than one can say for your ‘mother’, you stupid bitch.” He began backing out of the room. “Now do let the bed bugs bite, Weasley. It’ll help make the world a better place. Goodnight.”
Neither had a good night.
_____________________
A breeze whipped around Harry, buffeting his broomstick with its chilly gusts. The sun was just rising, illuminating the sky with vivid oranges and pinks, casting a halo around Harry’s head. How utterly misleading…if only they knew what he was doing right now. He had been riding his broomstick for several days, with only a vague idea as to where he was going. He only knew that he had to stop all this, had to stop Voldemort before he could take any more lives. The weight of the prophecy weighed heavily upon Harry’s shoulders, making him feel old and weary. But before Harry could sink even further into his own self-pity, he spotted a small valley, dotted with houses. He descended, feeling something almost tugging at him, as though urging him onwards. It feels like the veela, Harry thought to himself. He should have known then…
Instead, Harry followed the gentle tugging, allowing it to lead him to a small, two-story cottage. Welsh poppies grew wild around it, filling the surrounding area with swatches of vibrant color. Nearby, there was a sort of courtyard that seemed out of place, dirty and crumbling. But the rest looked almost…dreamlike. Harry just stood for a moment, dropping his broom and trunk in awe. He had never seen such a beautiful place, not even Hogwarts. I shouldn’t be here. He was about to turn around when a petite brunette woman stepped outside. She was humming a tune to herself, to a song that Harry thought he knew. She stopped when she saw him. Harry wasn’t sure whether to run or not, but a moment later his mind was made up for him. “Hello,” she called softly. “I don’t recognize you. Are you new here?”
“Er…you could say that, yeah,” Harry stammered, caught completely off guard.
“Oh well, come right in! Godric’s Hollow is a great place, real cozy. If you’re looking for loads of solitude and privacy, you’ve come to the right place,” she said cheerfully, leading him inside. “I’m Heather Bayliss, by the way, but everyone around here calls me Hetty. Who are you?”
Again, Harry was caught off guard. He had actually gotten used to people recognizing him on sight, and offering his name had become rare. “Harry.” The less she knew about him, the better. “Nice place you’ve got here,” he murmured, looking around at the bright colors and quilts everywhere. It was a sharp contrast to Aunt Petunia’s pale, practical style and Mrs. Figg’s crazy old woman style. Then what she had said hit him, and he nearly staggered back with the enormity of the revelation. He was in Godric’s Hollow! He could be inches away from his first home!
Hetty answered in that same chipper voice, oblivious to his odd reaction. “Thanks. Would you like some tea? Feel free to ask me anything, because for all we know we could be neighbors soon!”
Harry thought fast.
_____________________
“I am bored,” Narcissa said.
“You could help a little bit over here, you know. Then you wouldn’t be so horribly bored. God forbid your boredom!” Molly Weasley was in a very testy mood. Working day in and day out like a house elf to fulfill the needs of this horrible, snobby, aristocratic woman was enough to put anyone in a bad mood.
“Oh no, that’s quite all right,” said Narcissa. She sat elegantly, not a hair out of place, sharply contrasted among her shabby surroundings. Molly, on the other hand, was not fairing nearly as well. “It is rather entertaining watching you waddle around. I can’t believe now how the Prewitts’ would brag about their beautiful Mollykins. I’ve never seen such an ugly creature in my life!”
That’s IT! “I find it hard to believe you’ve never gazed at your husband,” Molly snarled, her whole face bright crimson in her rage.
Narcissa stood up, radiating anger as well now. “Don’t you dare speak about my husband in that way! Don’t you have some cleaning or something to do? Pollute the world with more of your filthy redheaded children, perhaps?”
“Oh right, because your son isn’t a terror to humanity at all,” snapped Molly, her eyes flashing. She looked a bit like a mother hen. A very angry mother hen.
“At least I knew when to stop!”
Molly’s eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Then she gave a frustrated little scream and stomped up the stairs.
Narcissa watched her waddling backside with no little amount of amusement.
_____________________
“Er, I guess I will have some tea, thanks,” Harry grunted. As Hetty bustled about the kitchen, preparing the tea, he took the time to sort out his thoughts. By the time she returned with two steaming mugs, he had come to a very firm decision. “Thank you,” murmured Harry.
“No problem. I was going to make some anyways. Are you sure you don’t have any questions? If you haven’t moved in yet, I can show you some really nice houses further down, or tell you what the climate’s like, quite nice most of the time, but occasionally-” Hetty paused her chatter for a sip of tea, and Harry took the opportunity to jump in.
“Actually, Hetty, I was wondering…have you been living here- splendid house, really- long?” Harry was not used to charming people with words. He was not good at it. Give him a wand and he could ‘charm’ anything, really. But somehow, this just wasn’t the same.
Hetty didn’t seem to notice his discomfiture. Truth be told, she didn’t seem to notice much of anything. No wonder she lived by herself. “I’ve been living in this very cottage all my life, actually,” she said brightly.
Harry drew in a sharp breath. If she had lived here all her life, she must know…”Then you could tell me who Lily and James Potter were?” he gushed excitedly. So close…!
Hetty looked up in surprise, “Well…yes, they were my neighbors till about 15 years ago. How on earth do you know the Potters’?”
Neighbors! They lived next door! Harry flattened his bangs nervously, attempting a casual shrug. “Er…we were good friends, I guess you could say.”
“Oh, really? What a small world! They were wonderful people. It’s just such a shame they had to move away…they had this darling little boy, very cute, and I was so looking forward to babysitting. I could have used the money back then, let me tell you…” Hetty’s droned on, but Harry had stopped listening. Moved away?
He didn’t realize that he had voiced his question out loud until Hetty chirped, “Oh yes, moved away. I have no idea where, of course, it happened so suddenly, all of us in the village were ever so surprised. Demolished their house and everything!”
And then Harry understood. The Ministry of Magic couldn’t very well leave all these Muggles in full knowledge of what really happened. They must have wiped their memories and replaced it with something else to explain the Potter’s absence. “Oh…that’s too bad. Um, too bad that you don’t know where they went, I mean. I was hoping you would. But maybe you could tell me a bit about them?” Too late, Harry realized his mistake.
Hetty did too. She narrowed her eyes at him, “Didn’t you say you were a good friend of them? Come to think of it, you’re not nearly old enough to have known them. You can’t be much more than 16 years old!”
Desperately, he tried to save himself. “I, er, what I meant was…Well see, we’re not really friends, I’m just…” God, what am I? “…a distant relative!” said Harry triumphantly. Of course…why didn’t I say that before?
She didn’t seem too bright, for she accepted his explanation without any further questions. “Aw, that is so sad! You know, you really do look a bit like Mr. Potter. Well I can’t tell you much, since I was only about 10 when they moved away myself, but I remember they were both beautiful. Mrs. Potter was just, wow, all the boys in the village pub always talked about her. And Mr. Potter, well, let’s just say that he was the hot topic in all the tea parties.” Hetty’s eyes had glazed over slightly, and she continued on quite dreamily. “Oh, everyone always cursed Mrs. Potter, for snagging him up before the rest of us. She was so perfect; I think they were all jealous. Perfect husband, perfect child, perfect looks, perfect job…it was kind of hard not to get jealous,” finished Hetty. “Oh, I’m sorry, was I rambling? Forgive me, I do that a lot, you just have to sto-”
“Stop,” said Harry firmly, his head swimming with all this new information. He felt proud of his parents. They seemed to have made quite an impression on this little village. Then he remembered what Hetty had just said. “Perfect job…?” he offered.
“Oh yes, perfect job. She was a cop, or something. Her and Mr. Potter both. Oh, that really upped the ladies fantasies. You should have seen how excited they got in the Knitting Club!”
Cop, cop…what is the wizard equivalent of a cop? Oh my God, my parents were Aurors!
“Oh yes, and then everyone heard about this great big spat that they had. They never fight, you know, being the perfect couple and all. But they did, and it was about some boy,” said Hetty gleefully. “I remember it well. Me and my cousin Vicky overheard while we were…watering the poppies outside their window. Mr. Potter was mad and saying things about greasy hair. It was wonderful,” she finished happily.
“Tell me more.”
_____________________
Authors Note: Thanks so much to all the reviewers! Next chapter, find out more about Lily and James, and what happens between the Weasleys’ and the Malfoys’. And I won’t say no to more reviews.
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