Dawn Rivera

Bathilda's Secret

"Harry, Danny, stop," says Hermione.

"What's wrong?" Danny says.

We have only just reached the grave of the unknown Abbott.

"There's someone there," I say. "Someone watching us. I can tell. There, over by the bushes."

We stand quite still, holding on to each other, gazing at the dense black boundary of the graveyard. I can not see anything.

"Are you sure?" Harry says.

"I saw something move, I could have sworn I did..." Hermione says.

She and I break from them to free our arms.

"We look like Muggles," Danny points out.

"Muggles who've just been laying flowers on Harry's parents' grave!" I say. "Harry, Danny, I'm sure someone's over there!"

I think of A History of Magic; the graveyard is supposed to be haunted: what if - ? But then I hear a rustle and see a little eddy of dislodged snow in the bush to which Hermione and I pointed. Ghosts can not move snow.

"It's a cat," says Harry, after a second or two, "or a bird. If it was a Death Eater, we'd be dead by now. But let's get out of here, and we can put the Cloak back on."

We glance back repeatedly as we make our way out of the graveyard. I am glad to reach the gate and the slippery pavement. We pull the Invisibility Cloak back over ourselves. The pub is fuller than before: many voices inside it are now singing the carol that we heard as we approached the church. For a moment I consider suggesting we take refuge inside it, but before I can say anything Hermione murmurs, "Let's go this way," and pulls us down a dark street leading out of the village in the opposite direction from which we entered. I can make out the point where the cottages end and the lane turns into open country again. We walk as quickly as we dare, past more windows with multicoloured lights, the outlines of Christmas trees dark through the curtains.

"How are we going to find Bathilda's house?" I ask; I am now shivering a little and keep glancing back over my shoulder. "Harry? Danny? What do you think? Harry? Danny?"

We tug at their arms, but Harry and Danny are not paying attention. They are looking towards the dark mass that stands at the very end of this row of houses. Next moment they have sped up, dragging Hermione and I along with them; we slip a little on the ice.

"Harry, Danny - " says Hermione.

"Look...look at it, Hermione, Dawn..." Danny says.

"I don't...oh!" I say.

I can see it; the Fidelius Charm must have died with James and Lily. The hedge has grown wild in the sixteen years since Hagrid took Harry from the rubble that lies scattered amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage is still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor has been blown apart; that, I am sure, is where the curse backfired. I, Harry, Danny and Hermione stand at the gate, gazing up at the wreck of what must once have been a cottage just like those that flank it.

"I wonder why nobody's ever rebuilt it?" whispers Hermione.

"Maybe you can't rebuild it?" Harry replies. "Maybe it's like the injuries from Dark Magic and you can't repair the damage?"

He slips a hand from beneath the Cloak and grasps the snowy and thickly rusted gate.

"You're not going to go inside?" I say. "It looks unsafe, it might - oh, Harry, look!"

His touch on the gate seems to have done it. A sign has risen out of the ground in front of us, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it says: