The Legacy Of The Moon's Dust | A Harry Potter Story

Chapter Fifty-Nine

I take in the chill night as the beauty of Godric's Hollow presents itself to me; bustling bars with white powder filling every inch of the place, beautiful orange lights giving the scene a gorgeous, nightly glow.

"I still think we should've used Polyjuice Potion," Hermione advises, my head shaking.

"No. This was where I was born. I'm not returning as someone else," Harry voices lightly.

The two link arms and I excuse myself, making my way towards one of the bars.

The yellow glow from inside stung my eyes a little, but the cheering and singing of Christmas carols got me bobbing my head along. Round, oak tables filled the oak floors, except for the back of the bar where there was a large stage and four men holding each other and swinging themselves side-to-side as they belted out a tune.

I sit at the bar and order a beer to go.

"ID, please," the bartender says, my head lifting slightly before I pull out my driver's license from my messenger bag. I thought it useful to get it done when I was seventeen in case of an emergency.

"Moondust? Oh, wow." He nods his head before handing the card back and fixing my drink. "I'm guessing you're not from here." I shake my head, sighing heavily.

"Family are from here," I answer simply before taking my drink.

I swiftly pay for my alcohol and waddle back over to Hermione and Harry, taking a few sips.

"Where did you go?" Hermione interrogates, but raises an eyebrow at me once she sees the mug in my hand.

"It's keeping me warm, and I turned eighteen last month, Mione. It's fine." She shakes her head at me and gives me a disappointed look, my eyebrows furrowing as I take a few deep breaths. "It helps me feel numb, Hermione. Just let it go."

Her eyes widen slightly before she utters a small 'sorry', causing me to nod and take a swig of my brew.

Hermione turns to the tavern I had gotten my lovely drink.

"Guys, I think it's Christmas Eve. Listen."

I close my eyes and block out all noices but the ones from in the tavern, songs of Santa and Christmas cheer filling my head.

"Do you think they'd be in there, my mum and dad?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, I think they would," Hermione replies.

"We'll need to leave soon. The bartender knows who I am so we need to be quick."

Walking across the crunching snow in the cemetery, I finish my booze and chuck the mug as hard as I can at a nearby wall, flashbacks of funerals, blood, tears and screams bombarding my vision.

I wipe at a stray tear and suck it up, dusting snow off a nearby stone, an unrecognisable name written on it.

When Hermione calls my name, I swipe at the water leaking from my eyes and make my way to her and Harry, both standing tall in front of a gravestone.

I force my eyes onto Harry, water dripping off his chin as he stares at the grave with his parent's names on it. I take his arms and pull him towards me, his head pushing against my shoulder as he continues to sob, his arms tightening around me after a moment.

Hermione pulls her wand out and waves it clockwise, creating a wreath of white flowers leaning against it. Taking out my own wand, I create a bouquet of lilies which rest besides Hermione's wreath.

Harry presses a small kiss to my temple as he lifts his head, sniffling and wiping his nose once he's completely pulled away and facing the smooth, grey stones again.