Now And Forever
Chapter 15
By Abraxan
Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my fabulous betas, Alexander, Asad, Iris and Rich! Thanks too to Mark Anders Harrison for help with a Latin incantation, and Mike McKean for his help with a sports question!
NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.COM!!! "Star Sons 1 - Dawn of the Two" an original fantasy novel by Abraxan (Lynda Sappington)! Click here to order! If you want an autographed bookplate, send a business-sized SASE to:
Whimsy Hill Publishing,
15401 Eaton Pike,
West Alexandria OH 45381.
"There they are," Ginny said. Her brother and sister-in-law were walking toward them, deep in conversation.
Harry was nervous. He wanted them to live next door, but he wanted them to do what made them happy, as well. He just hoped living in Godric’s Hollow would make them happy. "What d’you suppose they decided?"
Just then, Hermione noticed them. A bright smile crossed her face and she waved.
"They’re going to live here," Ginny said. "I’m so glad."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Me too."
* * * * *
"We probably won’t build right away," Hermione said. The four friends had spent the last half hour talking about land boundaries, where Ron and Hermione’s house might sit and other aspects of the project. "Since we’re both still at school, it might be easier to just stay in a flat on Diagon Alley."
"You know you’re welcome at Grimmauld Place," Harry said.
Hermione giggled. "And we also know what it’s like to be newlyweds with someone else in the house." Seeing Ron’s blush made her laugh even harder.
"It’s your house, mate. You and Ginny should have time to yourselves there." Ron’s voice was gruff, but his eyes were sincere.
"I have to admit," Harry said, "we’re enjoying having it to ourselves right now, but we can work things out."
"No, we’ve already discussed this," Hermione said. "We can afford a flat, and it will be fun for us to decorate it and have parties there and all. But thank you, Harry. It’s such a generous offer."
"No problem. If you change your minds, let me know. You’ll be welcome." He glanced down at Ginny who was shivering a bit. "Let’s go to the village and get something hot to drink."
"And maybe some lunch!" Ron added.
Hermione arched a brow at her husband. "Do you ever stop eating?"
Ron looked offended. "I’m hungry!"
"I was teasing you, silly," she said, sliding her arm through his.
* * * * *
Merlin set Hermione and Ron down just at the edge of the wizarding side of town in a small copse of trees hidden from the eyes of people moving from shop to shop.
"I hope there’s a pub nearby," Ron said, rubbing his cold hands together. "I could do with some coffee."
"Me, too," Ginny said, hugging herself as she waited for Harry to change back to a man from his phoenix form.
"Welcome to the village of Godric’s Hollow," Harry said when he was back in human form.
"Where’s the Muggle section? Or are they mixed?" Hermione asked. They all knew that Hogsmeade was the only purely wizarding town in Britain.
"This is the wizarding section," Harry explained. "There’s a Muggle section on the far side of those shops across the street. They have separate governments and everything, so they don’t really need to talk to each other unless there’s an emergency, kind of like the Ministry of Magic and the Muggle government in England. Grandfather told me the wizarding side is hidden from the Muggles by various spells, but I’ve never asked him what they are. I don’t think we’ll have any problem visiting either side of the village, though. The Muggle side has restaurants, shops and even a cinema, so it will be fun to visit there too. Where do you want to go for lunch?"
"The wizarding side," Ginny said with no hesitation.
"Are we agreed?" Harry said brightly. Hermione and Ron both nodded. "C’mon, then!" He took Ginny’s hand and led the way to the street which was lined with small cottages, attached homes and a variety of shops.
"Have you been here before, Harry?" Hermione said.
"Twice, both times as a raven, just flying over the village." He looked around him eagerly. This would’ve been his home. He would’ve bought books in that little bookshop across the street. His mum might’ve bought him sweets at the shop they were currently passing. Pain mingled with joy in his heart. He’d missed so much, not being able to grow up in this village with his parents and their friends around him, but now Ginny had agreed to live here and Ron and Hermione would be their neighbours. It would be a good life.
It was an attractive village, with well-kept shops and homes. People glanced up and smiled as they passed, and some even said hello, but none of them bothered Harry or his friends, which was a relief after dealing with crowds of fans in London.
"Look at that!" Ron said. He and Hermione were a few paces behind Harry and Ginny.
"It’s Dumbledore!" Hermione said.
Harry turned to look at them. "Where?"
Hermione shook her head and smiled at him. "Not Dumbledore in person, Harry. It’s a statue of him."
"Let’s go and see it," Harry said.
They crossed the street and found themselves in the village square, which had a beautiful gazebo in the centre and tall bronze statues all around the perimeter. The one in front of them was Albus Dumbledore, complete with his half-moon glasses. Harry thought he could almost see the twinkle in his grandfather’s eyes.
"That’s beautiful! I wonder why he never told me about it?" Harry said.
"Maybe he doesn’t know about it," Ron suggested. "I mean, how often does he come here?"
Harry shrugged. "No idea." He and Ginny walked around the sculpture, which was about eight feet tall and showed Dumbledore with his head tilted slightly and smiling down at the viewer with an amused expression.
"Whoever did this certainly captured him," Hermione said.
"I wonder who the other people are," Ginny said, looking at the other statues in the park.
Harry smiled down at her. "Let’s find out." He and Ginny moved to the next statue which showed a tall man holding a sword and wearing very old-fashioned robes. "This one’s Godric Gryffindor."
Ron and Hermione had gone on to the next sculpture while Harry studied the sculpture of Gryffindor’s sword.
"This one’s Agatha Crumholtz, who invented butterbeer!" Ron called.
"Hooray for Agatha, then," Harry said, laughing. He and Ginny glanced at Agatha’s statue, then moved on. "Here’s Bowman Wright, the bloke who invented the Snitch."
"Cool." Ron stood in front of Wright’s statue with them. "Good work, Mr. Wright!"
"Look at that Snitch." Harry grinned. "Looks like the design’s been improved a good bit since he invented it." The Snitch, while walnut-sized like modern ones, didn’t have the small, elegant wings of a modern Snitch, but much heavier, more awkward-looking ones.
"Well, he invented it in the 1300s. There are bound to be improvements on things over that much time," Ron said. "I’ll bet this one wasn’t as fast as the new ones."
"Probably not," Harry agreed.
"I wonder if these are all famous people from Godric’s Hollow?" Hermione said, glancing around. "Oh, there’s a sign." When she was in front of it, she read it out for the others. "Welcome to the Godric’s Hollow Walk of Fame. These sculptures represent Godric’s Hollow natives or residents who left a significant mark on the wizarding world. We are proud of their achievements and honour them for their contributions to our society." She glanced around. "There should be . . . yes, there is."
"What?" Harry said.
Hermione nodded at a sculpture of a tall, broad-shouldered man across the square. Even from the back, it was recognizably Harry Potter, messy hair and all.
Harry sighed. "Oh no. They didn’t."
"Come on, let’s see if they got it right!" Ginny said, pulling on his hand and leading him toward it.
The four friends crossed the square and turned to look at the sculpture. Sure enough, there on a four-foot high pedestal was a larger-than-life statue of Harry with his messy, windblown hair, round glasses and lightning-bolt scar, wand in hand and a determined look on his face. He was wearing Muggle clothes that were too big for him.
"It’s a good likeness," Ginny said, "but I don’t think your lips are that thin."
"You haven’t seen him glare at you that way, have you?" Ron said, chuckling.
Ginny smiled. "Not often, no."
Harry listened to his friends’ banter while staring up at the statue. Is that what I look like to people? Funny how it doesn’t look the way I see myself in the mirror. "I wish they hadn’t put me in Dudley’s clothes."
"Yeah, I wonder why they did that?" Hermione said. "You were buying your own clothes by seventh year."
"It’s symbolic," a voice said from behind them. They turned and saw a portly middle-aged woman with blond hair that seemed determined not to stay the way she’d styled it. She had an excited, eager look on her face, but was blushing as well. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help myself. You’re Harry Potter, aren’t you?"
Harry saw no reason to deny it. The statue looked just like him. "Yes."
The woman blushed when Harry addressed her, but went on bravely despite her red face. "I’m so pleased to meet you! Welcome to Godric’s Hollow!"
"Thanks."
"Um . . . what do you think of the statue?" She looked nervous as she waited for his reply.
Harry turned around to look at it again. He had no idea what to say. He felt Ginny squeeze his hand, urging him to say something. "Erm . . . it’s nice." The woman beamed.
"You said him wearing those clothes was symbolic," Hermione said. "What did you mean?"
The woman moved toward the statue, looking up at Harry shyly when she passed him. "The plaque explains it," she said, pointing at a large bronze plaque at the base of the statue. It read, "Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived" with dozens of lines of text after that.
"I couldn’t think how to condense your story any better," the woman added. "None of the others have such extensive stories attached to the statues."
"You said you couldn’t think how to condense it," Hermione said. "Did you help with this project?"
The woman’s blush deepened. "I’m the sculptor. Cindy Allen. It’s so nice to meet all of you! I’ve read all about you in the papers."
"You do beautiful work," Hermione said kindly. "Did you do others in the park?"
"Oh yes, several. You’ll see. All the ones from Dumbledore’s era on. But Mr. Potter’s was the one I most enjoyed doing." She looked at Harry again, studying his face this time. "I captured you fairly well, but I think your cheekbones are a bit more pronounced than I made them." She pulled out her wand. "I can revise it. If you’d be willing to sit for me, I could get it perfect."
Harry did his best not to squirm visibly. "Erm, no, that’s all right. Thanks anyway."
She smiled and blushed, a bit shy again as she put her wand away. "Well, I had to ask."
Ron was reading the plaque on the base of the sculpture. "It says your clothes symbolize the ten years of torture you suffered when you lived with your Muggle relatives. It says a load of other stuff, too." He moved around the sculpture and studied the sculpted reliefs on the other sides of the base. "Look, here’s Dobby!"
Harry stepped away from the sculptor, glad of an excuse to move away from her probing eyes. "Dobby?" Sure enough, at the top of the next plaque was a relief that looked remarkably like a very happy Dobby holding a sock.
"Yeah, it says you freed Dobby and that you’re in favour of freeing all house elves," Ron said, looking up from the plaque.
"Oh, how wonderful!" Hermione said, reading further down the plaque. "It mentions your membership of S.P.E.W.!"
Harry turned back to the sculptor, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "How did you know about that?"
"I do a great deal of research before starting a project, and this piece was so important, I wanted to include everything I could," she explained. "Fortunately for me, the press has covered your life quite well, so I had a lot of material to work with, which is a rare gift for me. Many of the people I sculpt were famous for something but that was the only thing that ever got their names in the papers, so there isn’t much information on them. That certainly isn’t true of you!" She beamed at him again. "We only just unveiled this piece last week. One of the relief plaques was damaged when we mounted it. I had it repaired and just remounted it a few minutes ago. That’s why I’m here. What luck that I was here when you arrived!"
Harry smiled. While he might not be thrilled to have a statue of him in the square, at least it was well-done. The woman obviously cared a great deal about her work. Being nice to her wouldn’t kill him. He wanted to live here, after all—it wouldn’t hurt to start making friends among the residents. "Thank you for doing such a nice job on me."
Ginny, Ron and Hermione were examining the plaques on the other sides of the base. "This one’s about you playing Quidditch," Ron said, pointing to the plaque on the back of the statue’s base, "both at school and with the Lions."
"And this one’s about the D.A.," Ginny said from the other side of the sculpture.
"Nothing about Voldemort?" Hermione said, following Ginny and Ron.
"That’s on the front one, the one with so many words," Ron said.
"It has our names on here," Ginny said, "in the Dumbledore’s Army stuff."
"Cool," Ron said, leaning closer to study it in detail. He laughed. "Look, there we are, Mione! And there’s Ginny!"
Harry gave the sculptor an apologetic smile and excused himself, then moved around the sculpture to look at the plaque about the D.A. At the top was a relief of Harry standing with his wand raised in a pose similar to the one on the statue, fighting an unseen enemy. D.A. members in the air to the right of the plaque dropped bombs on people in the distance. To the left of the plaque, Ginny knelt by an injured person wrapping a bandage around his arm. Hovering in the air above Harry were Ron and Hermione. The words on the plaque told a brief history of the D.A. and their significant battles, ending with a list of the members, with gold stars by those who’d died and Order of Merlin symbols by those who’d won that award. Seeing those names, some of whom were good friends, tugged at Harry’s heart. He bit his lip, then blew out a calming breath. It was right that they were honoured this way. They deserved it. He tried not to think of all the times these scenes showed up in his nightmares. Looking across the square at the sculpture of Dumbledore calmed him somehow. He didn’t look at that plaque again.
The sculptor moved into his line of sight as she found a spot where she could watch their reactions to her work. Harry looked at her expectant, hopeful face. What did she want from him? He glanced back at the plaque for a heartbeat, then knew what to say.
"Thanks for remembering everyone—not just me."
"After what I learned from reading about you, I knew that’s how you’d want it," Cindy said. "I wanted this sculpture to please you, if you ever saw it."
"It does."
The woman beamed, still studying Harry’s face with such focus that it made Harry uncomfortable. Finally, she shook her head. "Harry Potter," she murmured, "right here in Godric’s Hollow." She took a deep breath and straightened up, all business again. "I’m so glad I met you. I’ll leave you to enjoy yourselves now. I’m sorry I bothered you."
"I’m glad I could thank you in person for this," Harry said, nodding toward the D.A. plaque.
"My pleasure. Well, I’d better go. I hope to see you in town again sometime."
After she left, Hermione looked at Harry. "You handled that better than I expected."
Harry was relieved that he’d managed to get past the grief the plaque caused. Determined to get back to the playful mood he’d been in when they discovered the square, he shook his head. "You have no faith in me, do you?" he teased.
Hermione stayed determinedly serious. "I know you really well, Harry. I know this statue makes you uncomfortable, but you were very kind to her."
Ginny bristled. "Harry’s a very kind person!"
Hermione sighed. "I know, but—"
"Let’s see what else is here," Harry said before the bickering could begin.
The two couples separated, going different ways around the square to look at the other statues. Harry and Ginny were looking at a statue honouring the witch who invented Spellotape when they heard Hermione gasp.
"What is it?" Harry said. A couple of large trees obscured his view. "You two all right?" He and Ginny started toward the sound of Ron and Hermione’s voices.
Ron sounded unusually serious. "I think you’ll want to see this, mate."
"I don’t know," Hermione said, sounding a bit nervous. "He might—"
Harry frowned when he heard Ron say, "If he’s going to live here, 'Mione, he needs to know about it."
"What is it?" Worried now, Harry and Ginny hurried toward them. They passed the back of a statue and saw Ron and Hermione staring at it, transfixed. Harry turned to look at it, too. It showed a family . . . Harry gasped. It was his family. There stood his father with his face so similar to Harry’s, and his hair sticking up at the back exactly like Harry’s. His mother’s hair fell past her shoulders. She was nearly as tall as James, thin and pretty. Both of them were smiling at the unscarred baby Harry, held in his mother’s arms.
Harry didn’t remember walking toward it, but when Ginny laced her fingers in his and rested her head on his arm, it startled him out of his trance-like state. He realized he was standing at the base of the statue, his free hand on his father’s foot, looking up at his parents with hungry eyes. He glanced down at Ginny, then at his surroundings, and wondered how he got there. Harry swallowed hard, then went back to staring into the faces of his parents, who looked so happy, with no idea that soon they would soon die trying to save Harry.
He’d known there would be reminders of them, at least for him, but he hadn’t realized the town had created a memorial to them. After seeing the other statues here, I should’ve expected this . . . but I didn’t. He realized the huge old trees around the statue would’ve hidden the figures from his raven’s-eye view when he’d scouted the town before. He wished he’d seen it when he was alone. He wished he’d known about it, so he could have sat in a tree and grieved with no witnesses.
Harry swallowed hard and blew out a breath, then licked his lips nervously, trying to master himself, but to no avail. A tear slid down his cheek, quickly followed by others. He felt arms around his waist, around his shoulders, and one hand gripping his arm tightly. Tearing his eyes away from the statue at last, he saw it was Ginny whose arms were tight around his waist. Ron’s strong arm was around Harry’s shoulders, and Hermione was gripping Harry’s arm with one hand, clutching Ron’s hand with the other, tears streaming down her face. His friends—no, his family were there for him, helping him however they could.
Harry scrubbed at his eyes and wondered how long it would be before he could pass this statue without it slashing his heart into bloody ribbons. One look at Ginny’s face, though, told him he’d not only survive but would thrive wherever he lived, as long as she was with him. He hugged her, then turned to Ron and Hermione with a tremulous smile on his face. He wanted to say so much, but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he said what he could.
"Thanks."
"Are you all right?" Hermione said, studying his face with worried eyes.
"Yeah. It was just . . . a bit of a shock, y’know?"
"It was nice of the village to do this," Ginny said, turning inside Harry’s arms to look at the statue now that Harry seemed to be OK.
Harry kissed the top of her head. "Yeah, it was."
Hermione leaned closer to the statue and read the plaque attached to it. "James and Lily Potter gave their lives trying to save their son on 31 October 1981. Harry Potter is the only known survivor of the Killing Curse. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."
The four friends were silent for several moments. Finally, Harry broke the stillness.
"There’s a church with a graveyard just over there. Maybe they’re there." He looked at his friends. "I can come back by myself some time. I didn’t mean to spoil the day."
"No, Harry, it’s all right," Hermione said.
"We’re here for you, mate," Ron added.
"Let’s go," Ginny said, taking Harry’s hand and leading the way.
The graveyard was next to a small church with beautiful stained glass windows. Harry looked up at it and wondered if he’d ever been inside it. Shaking his head to stop his mind wandering down that path, he opened the wrought iron gate to the cemetery. Ron and Hermione went one direction, Harry and Ginny another, all of them scanning headstones for the names of Harry’s parents.
"Harry! Over here," Ron called after a few minutes’ searching.
Harry frowned when they reached the graveside. "That can’t be them. It must be new. It’s covered with flowers."
"Look at the marker," Hermione said quietly.
Harry faced the double marker, which was made of flawless white marble. Other headstones in the cemetery were made of the grey stone native to the area. His parents’ names and their dates of birth and death were inscribed in simple letters. He knelt on the cold ground and ran his fingers over the lettering. He couldn’t tell anyone what he was feeling—he wasn’t certain himself what was going on inside him. At least the tombstone wasn’t as much of a shock as the statue. He’d expected to see their graves at some point.
When Harry felt a tear slide down his face, he stood up and took a shaky breath. He’d grieved enough. He knew his parents were happy where they were, and that they still watched over him. He had a new family now, one his parents would love, he was sure. He looked at Ginny, who was watching him with concern, tears sparkling in her lashes, then at Ron who was trying to be stoic while comforting the weeping Hermione.
Harry pulled Ginny into his arms and cradled her head on his shoulder. "I’m all right. They’re all right, too, y’know. They love you. They told me so when I was dying. I told you that, right?" He felt her nod against his shoulder. He rested his cheek on her bright hair and just held her until the tension left her body. "OK now?"
"Yes." She pulled away and looked up at him. "Will you be happy living here, or will memories always haunt you?"
A sad smile crossed his face. "I don’t have many memories of being with them. But we’ll be happy here, I’m sure of it. And we’ll make new memories."
Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione, who had separated. Hermione was examining the flowers and parchments piled on top of James and Lily’s graves.
"What is all this stuff, anyway?" Harry said.
"They’re thank you cards from people all over England," Hermione replied, looking up at him. "These notes are amazing. They’re thanking your parents for you being the hero of the wizarding world." She set down the parchments she’d been reading and lifted some others. "Others thank you for killing Voldemort and setting everyone free."
"How nice," Ginny said, bending down and picking up a flower. "Some of these haven’t been here long. They’re still fresh."
Harry looked down at Ginny, who was still kneeling by the pile of things on the graves, and gently tapped the top of her head. "I thought you were hungry."
"I am!" She stood and brushed leaves and grass off her jeans. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yeah."
"Great!" Ron said, helping Hermione to her feet as he spoke. "I saw a pub down the street."
Harry took Ginny’s hand and led his friends out of the graveyard, glancing back once when they went through the gate. His parents’ headstone gleamed in the cold winter light. He nodded, satisfied somehow now that he’d seen their graves himself. He knew there would always be a sad, empty place inside him where the memories of his parents should be, but that pain would become a distant memory at some point. Harry turned away from the cemetery and gave Ginny a reassuring smile when she looked up at him. The smile she gave him in return warmed him and lifted the lingering traces of gloom from his soul. That cemetery held the pain of his past. The redhead holding his hand was his future, a future that looked bright indeed.