Chapter 9
Ruins of the Past
Night had set in by the time they emerged from the forest onto a small dirt road. A full moon shone down on the forest around them, illuminating everything around them with a pale, opalescent light. In other circumstances it may have been beautiful, instead Harry found it glum and eerie.
Dumbledore walked a few steps ahead of him, his head slightly bowed and arms folded in the sleeves of his robes. They had walked in silence the entire time, Dumbledore’s swishing robes and the pounding of Harry’s heart the only noises in the cool, summer’s night.
Harry looked around in a daze. It all seemed so unreal: the road, the trees, the ghostly white light”it was like walking in a dream. He was vaguely aware of passing two or three houses, though his mind was too numb to pay any attention.
Suddenly Dumbledore broke the silence.
“We will be there shortly Harry. Our destination is just around this bend…” he said in a soft voice.
Harry’s heart was now positively thumping against his chest like a caged animal fighting to escape. His hands were sweaty and he had to fight for breath. After rounding the bend they walked twenty or more paces until Dumbledore stopped suddenly and turned to his left. An empty plot of land stood before them.
Confused, Harry surveyed the area. It was a small and open plot of land, overgrown with grass, wildflowers, and a few scattered trees. He was about to ask the headmaster why he had brought him to an empty spot of land when a strange black shape a few yards in front of him caught his eye.
It was a rough, cylindrical shape, about four feet tall with a flat, slanted top. Walking up to it Harry realized that words and a picture had been carved into the flat top, although there wasn’t quite enough light to make them out. It was made of stone, and looked like it had been purposely placed there, like a memorial of some sort.
There were other dark shapes just now becoming visible in the pale moon light. Just a couple feet to his right rested a long wooden beam, the type that could be used to support a roof. To his left, rising about two feet from the ground, was a small area of bricks stacked on top of each other, almost as if it had once been part of a wall…
Harry turned back to look at Dumbledore, who, as if he could sense his confusion, answered his unasked question.
“As you are well aware, Harry, the curse Voldemort used on you backfired. In addition to stripping him of his powers, it almost completely destroyed the house. As the years went by, it fell deeper and deeper into ruin. That which you see here is all that is left of it.”
Startled, Harry took a couple of steps back. He could now see other hints that a house had once stood here: more crumbling sections of wall, pieces of flooring, scattered brick. All of it had crumbled and lay strewn about the ground, overgrown with grass and buried by time.
Harry stared at the spot of land for quite some time. The trees, the moon, even Dumbledore standing next to him”it all seemed to disappear as he looked at the ruins of what had once been his parents house.
Oddly enough, the scene didn’t invoke any anger inside of Harry. He had expected to feel a surge of hatred for Voldemort, a desire for vengeance on the man who had brought so much misery to his life. Instead, there was a profound sorrow ”sorrow for the parents he never knew, sorrow for his childhood, sorrow for the life he might have had.
“Why did they have to die?”
Dumbledore looked at him, sorrow etched into every line of his ancient face. He was silent for some time before speaking.
“I have no answers for you, Harry.”
‘Nobody has any answers,’ he thought bitterly. Still he was unable to conjure any feelings of anger towards Voldemort, although he was desperately trying. Anger was easy, anger he knew how to deal with”what he couldn’t deal with was this intense loneliness, this gnawing hunger for family he had always lived with but was now magnified a hundred times over, leaving an emptiness in his heart that matched the empty plot of land in front of him.
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
Voldemort was out there, right now. Because of him other people would suffer, other people would have to go through what he had, feel what he was feeling right now. Where would it stop? How many people would have to be killed before Voldemort was pleased, before somebody stopped him? But nobody could stop him. Nobody except…
Except him.
For the first time since he had heard the prophecy, Harry felt all fear and doubt leave him, replaced with cold, solid determination. He had to stop Voldemort. Not for revenge, not out of hate and anger”but because no one else should have to go through what he had. He knew what he had to do.
“This can’t happen.”
His voice was clear and strong and it rang through the night, surprising even Harry.
Dumbledore looked at him questioningly.
“I can’t let this happen to anyone else,” Harry said.
Slowly Dumbledore walked towards him, a sad smile on his face, and put a long arm around his quaking shoulders. Gently, almost fatherly, the old headmaster led Harry back into the forest and away from the shattered ruins of his past.
***
The remainder of the night passed in a haze. Harry was vaguely aware of stumbling through the forest, Dumbledore occasionally offering a word of comfort. He was vaguely aware of passing a small thatched house that had a light on and a grizzled old witch running out to meet them. He was vaguely aware of the sound of rushing water as they walked along a winding trail and of entering a large, dark house. He was vaguely aware of being led to a bedroom and of Dumbledore saying, “Rest Harry. You are safe here,” and barely realized he had somehow gotten into a soft bed, until sweet sleep set in and he become aware of nothing at all.
***
Harry awoke the next morning in a room entirely bathed in light. It poured through the windows in a flood, embracing him with warmth. At first he thought he must be at Hogwarts, until a quick look at the room informed him he definitely wasn’t.
It was large and open; at least twice the size of his room in Privet Drive. The floor was made from a dark, lumpy wood that looked slightly polished. The walls were a combination of stone and wooden beams and gave the room an earthy feel. Against the wall to his right was a bookcase, filled with old books, and next to it a comfortable looking wooden chair. The chair faced one of the many windows in the room, giving whoever sat in it a wonderful view of the lush forest outside.
Curious, Harry slipped out of bed. He had slept wonderfully, though seeing how far the sun had traveled in the sky told him he had been asleep for quite some time. The wooden floor felt cool and smooth against his bare feet as he walked around the room, curious as to where he was. The windows looked out into thick forest, through which parts of the large granite mountain were visible. Apparently he was still in Godric’s Hollow, although he had no idea whose house he was in.
Putting on his shoes (apparently he had been too tired to change clothes in the night), Harry walked to the bedroom door and cautiously opened it. He thought he heard the faint sound of a bell ringing in the distance as Harry peeped his head around the corner.
“Er…Hello?” he called softly.
No answer.
Exiting the bedroom, he found himself in a long hallway. To his right was a wooden staircase which led downstairs. Apparently he was on the second floor of the house. To his left the hallway stretched on for a ways, the solid wall on one side becoming a wooden railing. The railing was about fifteen feet long, then became a wall again. Rooms branched off from both sides of the hallway, although most of the large, oak doors were closed.
Thinking he was more likely to disturb someone down the hallway, Harry decided to take the staircase down to the first floor. The stairs creaked as he made his way down, noticing a long, thin tapestry with a representation of a dragon hung in the stairwell. It looked very old and faded and the dragon didn’t move, as though it was too worn out.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Harry found himself in another hallway, this one slightly shorter than the one upstairs. He walked very slowly, not quite sure he should be walking about the house without knowing whom it belonged to. What looked like a pantry opened up to his left. Slightly beyond it was another room, its door wide open.
Looking into the open doorway, Harry was surprised to see another small bedroom with a large bookcase and plenty of windows. Different than the first bedroom, however, this room was filled with globes, star charts, and maps of unrecognizable places. Not seeing anyone inside, Harry entered the room intending to get a closer look at a small globe of the earth that appeared to have clouds moving about its surface.
Just as he was about to touch the globe with the swirling clouds, a loud voice spoke, nearly causing him to jump out of his shoes.
“Oi! You, boy! What’re you doing prowling around my house?”
Scared and embarrassed, Harry twirled around expecting to face the irate owner of the house. Instead there was an old, tattered portrait of a dark haired man with bushy eyebrows and an angry look on his face.
“I’m sorry…I just…Dumbledore brought me…” Harry began to stammer at the man, unnerved at having been caught snooping around the house. Even more surprising than the man yelling at him was the look that now came across his broad face.
“Merlin’s beard…James? Can it be? James! You’re back! But how…” the portrait exclaimed, all the while grinning at Harry yet staring at him as if he were a ghost.
“Er…My name isn’t James, it’s Harry,” he said. The man in the portrait stared at him in disbelief.
“James was my father.”
This time it was the portrait’s turn to look shocked. For a few seconds he was speechless, then broke out into a broad grin. “Why of course! James’s son! I knew you had to be a Potter”not many families with that horrendous black hair out there, is there! How do you do, my lad, how do you do!”
The man suddenly looked extremely pleased to see Harry. Harry couldn’t help but notice he had black hair as well.
“Are you a…a Potter too?” Harry asked tentatively.
“Course I’m a Potter!” the man burst, looking affronted. “This is Potter’s Cove, isn’t it? Not going to have a picture of the bloomin Darnabys here, are you now lad? HA!” The man looked at him intently, a gleam in his eye.
“I suppose not,” Harry answered.
Just then another voice came from the doorway, scaring him almost as much as the first had.
“Ah, I see you’ve met Angus, Harry. Excellent.”
“Ahoy there, Dumbledore!” the man on the portrait called out. “You hear that? The lad says he’s James’s son! I believe it too, he’s got that strong Potter chin!”
Harry had never heard of thought of his chin as ‘strong’, but it was good to hear all the same.
“Yes Angus, this is Harry. Harry, meet Angus, your great uncle.”
Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. Great uncle?
“Harry will be living here until class resumes at Hogwarts.”
“Splendid!” boomed the portrait, “I’ve been going mad in this house all by myself, not a soul to talk to! Had to make friends with the chair and Neptune over there,” he nodded at a small statue on the table, “good blokes, not much for conversation though, Ha Ha!” The man in the portrait, Angus, had a short, booming laugh that shook the entire room.
“I’ll be living here, professor?” Harry asked, slightly confused. He had hoped to stay with the Weasley’s, though he had resigned himself to the fact that he would most likely be taken to Grimmuald Place. Needless to say, a large, mysterious house in a tiny village he had barely even heard of was the last place he expected to spend the summer.
“Yes. The Burrow is no longer safe, and, as I thought you’d prefer not to return to the Black house so soon, Potter’s Cove seemed like the natural choice.”
“Potter’s Cove?”
“Yes, Potter’s Cove. You may recall me saying earlier that your family has had a long history in Godric’s Hollow. For much of that history they have lived here. Potter’s Cove,” Dumbledore motioned at the house around them, “belonged to your grandparents before you, and, once you are of age, will rightfully belong to you.”
Harry gaped back at him, completely stunned.
“HAH! Look at ‘em! Looks like a goblin who just apparated into a lake of gold!” the portrait boomed jovially.
Dumbledore watched Harry with a warm smile, as if he were particularly enjoying the look on his face.
“Why don’t we have a look around? Angus, if you’ll excuse us?” Dumbledore said.
“Of course! Be sure to show ‘em Grandsire Kenneth’s Thunder Room, wont’cha? HA HA HA! So long Harry!”
With a quick bow and a swish of his robes, Dumbledore swept out of the room. Harry followed, half convinced that the past two days hadn’t really happened and his real self was back at Privet Drive, dreaming.