In The Fight To Survive (Golden Trio Era) {4}

The Serpent Under't

"Excuse me, are you Bathilda?" Harry voice broken through the silent night as they arrived a few steps in front of the elderly woman. Bathilda nodded her head, gesturing for them to follow her before turning around and walking away. Harry and Hermione share a look, deciding whether they were going to follow through with the risk or run now. Despite the nagging voice in their heads, that sounded a lot like Mikayla, the pair shared a nod, rushing after Bagshot, who was surprisingly quick on her feet. They crossed the square without looking at the statue of the Potters, afraid that Bagshot would disappear into the darkness she arrived from.

She lead them back through the alley in which they apparated to, past several of the houses Harry had previously wondered if I'm another life would've been his home. Bathilda stopped in front of a house, staring up at it in recognition while waiting for Harry and Hermione to completely catch up with her. As they got closer, the image of the plain normal house began to shimmer in the moonlight before a veil seemed to drop, revealing something entirely different. In front of the stood a cottage covered in dark ivy and smothered by snow, with the top right side of the building had been blown apart.

Harry couldn't believe it, that he actually stood in front of his parents' house and that it has been untouched since he was last there when Hagrid rescued him from the ruin. The hedge that bordered the garden has become wild over the last sixteen years, and held pieces of scattered rubble safely in it's branches. The grass had towered towards the sky, reaching as high as Harry's waist, with the majority of debris from the explosion caused from Voldemort's failed murder attempt on baby Harry. The three of them stood at the gate, Hermione and Harry silently gazing up at the wreck with absolute awe, while Bagshot watches their every move.

"I wonder why no one has rebuilt it, it's been years." Hermione voices as her eyes trace the rugged outline of the house. "Maybe they can't. You can't repair the damage caused by Dark Magic on a person, they'll always be left with scars at the very least, maybe objects are the same." Harry responded breathlessly, his voice barely above a whisper as his heart pounded against his chest. Feeling the urge to get closer, Harry grabbed the rusted gate, numb to the freezing burn of the snow against his ungloved hand.

Hermione grabbed a hold of his elbow, preventing him from pushing the gate open and getting closer to the unsafe cottage. "Don't even think about it, Harry. It's far too dangerous." Hermione warned him but her voice fell on deaf ears because something had caught Harry's eye. A sign rose up from the ground in front of them, breaking through the vines of briars, weeds and nettles. The snow falling tumbling off the face of it, to reveal a wooden plaque with gold lettering delicately carved into it. The sign read;

On this spot, on this 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.

Around the magically carved words, scribbles had been added in the margins by other witches and wizards that have visited the sight. Some had simply signed their names in Everlasting Ink or carved their initials into the wood, while others had left messages for Harry, should he ever return home. Most of the messages were wishing Harry good luck in the future, stating their support of him, or wishing him a long, prosperous life. There was one message that stuck out against the years of magical graffiti, recognising Mikayla's handwriting on the bottom of the plaque; Welcome Home, Harry.

"They really shouldn't have written on the sign, but at least they're all positive." Hermione commented, despite her disapproval, Hermione could see the joy on Harry's face as he read each legible message. Harry beamed at her, before Bathilda pulled on his jacket, to pull him out of his mind to finish following her to their actual destination. A few houses up, Bathilda turned in at a gate, up a path that ran through an overgrown garden. She fumbled with her house keys for a moment, before twisting them in the lock and pushing open the door.