Yours, Fred | f. weasley x reader

Chapter 59: The Historian

The three of you Apparated just outside Godric's Hollow a number of days later. Snow was falling heavily around you in the dark street, and you tightened Fred's scarf around your neck and fastened the top buttons of your coat as a chilly breeze whipped through your hair.

You looked around at the empty streets and Hermione looked nervous as your boots crunched through the fresh snow, "I still think we should've used Polyjuice Potion," she whispered.

"No," Harry replied instantly, "this is where I was born. I'm not returning as someone else."

You and Hermione shared a worried look but said nothing, and Harry held up his arms for you both to take. You linked your arm through his and Hermione did the same, then he put his hands in his pockets and the three of you walked quietly through the street.

A bell chimed from the small church down the street, and voices from the townspeople exiting a pub made you jump.

"I think it's Christmas Eve. Listen," Hermione said quietly and you listened as a choir's singing echoed from the church. It was a beautiful sound but it also made you sad, because unlike every other Christmas you'd had before, you weren't with either your parents nor the Weasleys.

You stopped outside the graveyard outside the church and Harry studied it, "do you think they'd be in there? My mum and dad." You squeezed his arm comfortingly, "yeah, I think they would."

In silent agreement, you walked into the graveyard. The three of you dispersed and scanned the numerous headstones for the familiar names, and you heard Hermione calling out from a distance away while she hovered over an ancient flat tombstone on the snowy ground. You looked over your shoulder and saw Harry had stopped in front of a newer-looking headstone and you walked over, a lump growing in your throat as you read the white marble.

In loving memory of James Potter and Lily Potter

Your heart broke for Harry and you took his hand in yours and squeezed it. You were taken aback by the dates on the headstone, realising that Harry's parents were only twenty-one when they'd died, less than a year and a half older than you were now. The thought of being brave enough at that age to face the most evil wizard in existence was terrifying, and yet James and Lily Potter had done it, and had somehow managed to sacrifice themselves to save the life of their only child. And now their son was expected to face that same wizard at only seventeen years old. The thought made you feel sick.

Hermione approached and looked sadly at Harry, and then she crouched down on the snow and took out her wand, conjuring a beautiful wreath of white roses at the foot of the headstone. Then she stood back up and held onto Harry's arm at his other side and he nodded in thanks and wiped his tears on his sleeve.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered and you squeezed his hand while Hermione squeezed his arm and rested her head on his shoulder, "Merry Christmas, Harry," you both replied as you looked at the headstone in front of you. You don't know how long you stood there for but Hermione lifted her head and then straightened up.

"There's someone watching us. By the church," she whispered and you both glanced over as she spoke, and sure enough a small, cloaked figure stood watching you.

"I think I know who that is," Harry said as the old woman moved away, hobbling out of the graveyard and into the street. Harry followed her and you and Hermione shared a wary look and both hesitated, but then followed him out of the graveyard.

"I don't like this Harry," Hermione said and you agreed, "neither do I."

"Y/N, Hermione, she knew Dumbledore," Harry reasoned as you followed the woman from a distance, "she might have the sword."