First off, If you haven't read yesterdays post about Jessica's photography, scroll down NOW ... you are not allowed to leave until you've seen it and been blown away! :D
OK, back to Harry Potter and in honour of the release of THAT film, I wanted to share a little fan fic with you. A group of us from harrypotterforums started a rpg in 2006 (a year before the release of DH) in which we tried to second guess the plot of the final book. I have to say we made some spectacularly right guesses, and some crankily wrong ones, but it was great fun. I was writing as Harry and this is my favourite post. They are visiting Godric's Hollow and have seen the mouldering mess that is all that is left of the cottage.
Harry felt totally numb inside. He hadn’t known what to expect, but this neglected, soulless pile of rubble felt totally alien. There was no sense of his parents, of their love, in this place. He focussed on Tonks and realised she had asked him something. He struggled to remember what she had said for a moment, then merely nodded.
They trooped out of the cottage grounds in silence and walked slowly up the lane back into the village proper. A green lay at the centre of the village, with a duck pond surround by old sagging timber framed houses. A weather beaten sign outside a pub announced that it was ‘The Dragon’ and showed a passable rendition of the Welsh Green that Fleur had faced three years before. They walked across the green to the tiny parish church and stopped to look at the notice board outside.
“Saint Godric’s?” exclaimed Ron.
Tonks laughed. “Well, it goes back to the legend of a dragon that terrorised the people of the village until Sir Godric defeated it and rescued a princess”
“What princess?” asked Hermione.
Tonks shrugged. “The daughter of some local Saxon chieftain I expect.”
Next to the notice board a large red thermometer announced that the restoration fundraising was nearing completion. The sign underneath read
Saint Godrics Restoration Appeal.
Help us to raise £20,000 to preserve the
fabulous frescoes of Saint Godric
defeating the dragon, recently discovered
in this church.
“You go and look,” Harry told the others. “I’m going to wander round the churchyard for a bit.”
The others exchanged glances. “I’m not sure Harry, we ought to stay together.”
Harry looked around the deserted churchyard and raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll be fine,” he said and turning he walked away from them. He didn’t hear footsteps behind him, so he assumed they had agreed to give him space.
It was a warm summer morning. The smell of new mown grass was heavy on the still air. There was no sound except the buzzing of insects and birdsong overhead. This felt a good place to be. He had travelled about half the way around the churchyard and had entered a stand of ancient yew trees, when he saw an area separated off from the rest of the churchyard by iron railings. He walked up to the gate but found it locked. He was about to turn away when he realised that there was no lock, chain, bolt or any other fastening on the gate. He smiled and taking out his wand, looked around to make sure he was unobserved and said quietly, “Alohamora.”
Instantly the gate swung open and he went inside. Looking around he quickly spotted two newish graves. Taking a deep breath he walked up to them. The first one was neither his mother’s nor his father’s. The gravestone simply said In loving memory of Nathaniel Potter 1910 – 1978 and of his wife Dorothy 1916 – 1979. Harry stood rooted to the spot. He had been looking for his parents; he hadn’t expected to find his grand parents as well. They had died just before he was born. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly he felt hot tears roll down his cheeks. These people he did not know, and knew nothing about were part of the family he had been denied. He wiped his eyes harshly with his sleeve and moved over to the second grave.
“James and Lily Potter 1959 – 1981 Love knows no bounds”
Harry sank to his knees. He had been determined to be strong, but the tears had been released and there was no stopping them now. Seventeen years of anguish poured from his heart in a wordless torrent. He buried his face in his hands and surrendered himself to his grief, as the sun warmed his back and a warm summer breeze ruffled the trees overhead.