CHAPTER TEN.
GODRIC'S HOLLOW

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The quiet seemed more deafening with the tensions rising and no future of leaving this quest in sight. Rosalie rarely spoke to Hermione and Harry, hating how they (Harry) so easily let their friend leave. Really, no one ever spoke. They just read, traveled, and slept. The cycle never changed and nothing ever happened. Sometimes, Rosalie could hear Hermione silently weeping in the moonlight, but the Allen girl only turned away and tried to sleep, ignoring Hermione and pretending that she wasn't crying.

Again and again they traveled, never staying in one place for too long, only a day or two. Rosalie continued to read Dumbledore's journal, but found nothing that could help them. She listened to the radio as well, hearing the music it played, as sad as it was, as if the stations could sense that there was no joy with the quest they were on. And everyone pretended like they others didn't exist, especially Rosalie, who avoided the others like a plague if she could.

But now, there was no avoiding them. The place they were staying at a place where she couldn't find. They didn't put up the tent, finding it now useless because they would just take it down the next day, and there were no trees to hide behind, so she sat next to Harry quietly. There was silence, until:

"Hermione," Harry spoke, the Granger girl looked at him, "You were right. It's like you said. Snitches have flesh memories. But I didn't catch my first Snitch with my hand. I almost swallowed it."

The two girls looked to see the words vanish from the orb, awe written on their faces. "I open at the close?" Hermione asked, confusion filling her.

"What do you reckon it means?" Harry asked her.

Hermione shuffled uncomfortably. "I don't know," it was clear that she did, but lied, and Rosalie chose to ignore it, "But look, I've found something as well..." she changed the topic.

Hermione took out The Tales of Beedle the Bard, flipping the pages until stopping at one with a small drawing of a triangular eye, and she pointed at it.

"I thought it was a picture of an eye, but now I don't think it is, It isn't a rune and it's not in Spellman's Syllabary either. And it's been inked in – somebody drew it – it isn't part of the book," Hermione explained.

"Luna's dad was wearing that, at Ron –" Harry stopped, correcting himself, "At Bill and Fleur's wedding."

Rosalie studied the symbol, seeing what it was. She bit the inside of her mouth, not wanting to speak to them, but wanting to inform them of what it was.

"What d'you mean – wearing it?" Hermione inquired, looking at Harry.

"Around his neck. Like an amulet. I didn't think much of it at the time. You know Luna – she's always got some mad thing or the other she's carrying around. I just figured it ran in the family."

"Why would someone have drawn it in a children's book?" Hermione asked aloud.

"It's the Deathly Hallows," Rosalie finally spoke. They looked at her, shocked.

"What?" Hermione muttered, staring at Rosalie in shock. She hadn't a spoken a word to them since Ron left.

"The symbol – it's the Deathly Hallows," she explained, reaching for the book, "The Invisibility Cloak, Resurrection Stone, and the Elder Wand. With all these things, you're the Master of Death."

"Oh," was the only thing that came from Hermione's mouth, looking at the symbol as if it had new meaning.

"Hermione, I've been thinking. I – I want to go to Godric's Hollow. It's where I was born, it's where my parents died –"

"And it's exactly where You-Know-Who will expect you to go. Because it means something to you," Hermione disagreed.

"But it means something to him too, Hermione. You-Know-Who nearly died there. Wouldn't that be just the kind of place he'd hide a Horcux?"

"It's dangerous, Harry. But I have to admit, recently even I've been thinking we might have to go. I think it's possible something else is hidden there," Hermione admitted, "The sword. If Dumbledore didn't want it falling into the Ministry's hands, but wanted you to find it, what better place to hide it than the birthplace of the found of Gryffindor himself?"

"Godric's Hollow is the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor – I mean, course it is. Obvious, isn't it?" Harry laughed.

Rosalie laughed at him, "Very...you're not very bright, are you, Harry?"

Harry rolled his eyes as Hermione eyed him, "Harry, did you ever even open A History of Magic?"

"Tossed it at Neville once when he was snoring – might've popped open," Hermione smiled at him, and so did Rosalie, but it was more discreet. She couldn't help but think he was funny, even though she knew that she shouldn't. It wouldn't matter when they found out, and she couldn't help but feel that it would be soon.

And that was the end. Rosalie clung onto Harry's arm tightly, scared that she was Apparating alongside him, knowing what had previously happened to Ron. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the whirlwind feeling in her stomach. Soon, it was over, her heart still beating fiercely in her chest, and she looked around the snowy town called Godric's Hollow.

It was beautiful, anyone could tell you that, golden streetlights illuminating the narrow road to the center of the town. There was Christmas decorations, and Rosalie felt something lift in her chest. Christmas meant Halloween was over, Christmas meant she was seventeen and could Apparate by herself – but it also meant that she had missed her birthday, probably the best thing to come from the news. Rosalie Allen never liked her birthday, so she never told anyone, not really. She never wanted anyone to know, but the house elves at Hogwarts knew and always made sure to bake her a cake for when she went for a midnight snack.

"I still think we should've used Polyjuice Potion," Hermione disagreed, a conflicted look on her face.

"No," Harry shook his head, "This is where I was born. I'm not returning as someone else."

"I agree with Harry," Rosalie made a look of disgust, "That potion is terrible – I never want to use it again."

Harry looked at the two, holding out both of his arms for them to take, which they did. And then they began to move. A door opened from a bar, there was laughter heard, and Rosalie felt her eyes prickling with tears. People were with their friends, having a great time while Rosalie Allen didn't really have friends. It was Christmas. Christmas was a time for families to gather together or friends to bond and Rosalie hadn't celebrated the holiday since the death of her mother. And she never would.

"Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve! Listen..." Hermione whispered, but there was excitement in her voice. Hermione lifted her head to hear the singing from a church, but Harry just stared at the graveyard beyond.

"Do you think they'd be in there?" Harry's voice cracked, "My mum and dad?"

Rosalie felt out of place as Hermione gave him a look of sympathy, "Yeah. I think they would." The Allen girl knew where her parents were. Her mother had a proper burial while she hid her father's body in the backyard. He didn't deserve a funeral, he didn't deserve to be mourned by the people who didn't know what kind of a terrible person he was. So, she never let them have it – she never let her father had a proper goodbye.

The three walked through the graveyard, looking for the tombstone that would hold his parents' names. Hermione let go of Harry, but Rosalie held him closer. She knew what it was like to lose her parents, she could understand.

Hermione stopped by a large tombstone. "Harry," she called softly, and a surge of fear went through him.

"Is it –?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, pointing at the tombstone, "But look." Harry and Rosalie looked. It was the tombstone of Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore, a quotation etched in the granite saying where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. "Did you know he had a sister?" she asked.

Harry stared at the stone, yet another thing Dumbledore didn't tell him. "No," he looked at Rosalie, "Did you?"

"Yes," she shamefully confessed, "She died when she was young...didn't like her magic, didn't go to Hogwarts. That's all I really know."

It was partially a lie. She didn't know much more about Ariana, only how she died from Dumbledore's perspective. And she didn't think that was very reliable.

Hermione walked along the stones, Harry tugging Rosalie another way. He hated the girl he was with because she knew more about Dumbledore, but he also didn't. She had something about her. Something so fascinating, something that drew Harry towards her. She was fiercely loyal, probably the only one out of the three at the cemetery who really understood (or tried to) Ron. She was the girl who always seemed to know something, the girl who always understood what he was going through. The only one his age who seemed to understand what it was like to lose their parents.

"Where are your parents?" he asked, looking at the names on the tombstones as he asked.

"I couldn't tell you," Rosalie lied, "I never learned the name of the cemetery."

That was a complete and utter lie. She knew the name. Rosewell Park Cemetery looked twenty minutes from the house she grew up in. She went there every day during summer after her first year at Hogwarts. She sat down, facing the place where her mother was buried and told her everything that happened that year. She told the stone about Dean and Seamus, how she felt like she really had friends. She was excited to return, continuing to be friends with them, sending letters back and forth before her father found out. He hit her, saying that she couldn't get involved with that world, that she would return to the muggle one once she finished school, to live a "normal" life.

There was no more talking as they reached one tombstone. Rosalie didn't even realize it at first, continuing to walk before realizing that Harry had stopped. She stopped then, seeing the tombstones of his parents; James and Lily Potter. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death, was carved into their tombstone, and Rosalie felt a chill going down her spine as she read it.

Hermione soon joined them, raising her wand and creating a wreath of Christmas roses on the ground before the tombstones. Harry nodded appreciatively. "Harry Christmas, Hermione and Rose."

"Harry Christmas," the two chorused together. There was no mention of anything else, there were no sorrys exchanged, there were no stares at Harry, only side glances filled with worry. It was the first time Rosalie had seen him cry, only tears occasionally streaming down his face as stared at the tombstone of his parents.

And Rosalie felt more guilt seep into her bones as she saw this. She worked for the man that created this sadness inside him. She knew the man who filled him with vengeance more than anything. And she saw the boy that didn't deserve any of it, just taking it. Taking a quest where he knew nothing, a quest where nothing more was given to him and he didn't know where to go next. And he took it, so Rosalie found a new respect for him.

And then the silence ended with an abrupt "Harry..." from Hermione. Rosalie looked at him, seeing the way Hermione bit her lip slightly as her eyes danced around.

"Yeah," Harry, uninterested, replied.

She turned to them with that nervous look that sent waves of unease inside Rosalie. "Someone's watching us," the Granger girl whispered, "By the gate."

Harry nodded and Rosalie froze. Almost mechanically, she turned her head slightly to see a shadowy figure standing in the snow, watching them. She was an elder, standing stiff and looking at them, staring at Harry, as if she wanted him to see her, before turning away. Rosalie let out a breath of relief; it wasn't a Death Eater.

"C'mon," Harry decided, moving quite fast as the two girls sent a look at each other, thinking the same thing; Harry was completely insane. Then, they moved.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Hermione spoke, trying to discourage her friend.

"We look like ordinary Muggles," Harry debunked her with an eye roll.

"Muggles who've just been laying flowers on your parents' grave," Hermione, aggravated, glared at him.

Rosalie ignores them, staring at the woman. She was suspicious, who was the woman? What did she want? Then, the woman held up her hand, and the three stopped. Seconds later, they saw a group of snatchers and Rosalie's heart stopped for a moment. If they saw her...if they saw her...if they...they saw, that's what ran through her head the whole time before they vanished. And the woman continued to walk.

"Relax," Harry smiled at them, "This is right. I know it." Rosalie sent him an unconvinced look, but Harry pretended not to see it.

The woman hobbled on and the three walked after her. The lane they walked down held cottages with small gardens, two of them didn't look, but Rosalie couldn't help but notice them. People had lives there, people who cared about their gardens – could care about their gardens – and probably had families – muggle families. And Rosalie worked with the person who wanted to kill them and their families, ruin their gardens and destroy them. Unconsciously, Rosalie grabbed onto Harry, holding the sleeve of his coat tightly to stop her from scratching the mark on her left arm, something she used to do daily.

And then Harry stopped, along with Rosalie, as Hermione continued alone. She didn't know why Harry stopped, only seeing a dark cottage with its garden overgrown (like the others would) and she understood.

"Omigod. Harry..." Hermione breathed, finally standing next to them, but all Rosalie could think about was the garden. The garden was overgrown, and it didn't mean anything, but it meant everything. The garden was overgrown – her garden at that damned house where both her parents died, was overgrown. That's all she could think about.

"This is where they died, Hermione," Harry's tone was bitter, "This is where he murdered them."

And Rosalie held him closer, wanting nothing more than the reveal her arm and claw it. She wanted to claw to all off, all the traces of every bad thing in her life. She just wanted it gone. She wanted to turn back time and change everything so she didn't have to feel all this guilt that was eating her alive.

Harry clutched the locket on his chest, it trembling, ever so slightly that you didn't notice it until you did. "You're Bathilda, aren't you?" Harry suddenly asked. Rosalie was confused until she turned around, seeing the old woman standing only a few yards away, watching them.

The old woman hobbled on and the three followed after her until they reached the old woman's house. The door rattled open and the tiny woman hobbled inside with the others following after her. Then, Bathilda exited the room and Rosalie wrinkled up her nose at the smell; death.

"Harry, I'm not sure about this," Hermione's voice came with uncertainty.

"Hermione, she knew Dumbledore," Harry tried to convince them, "She might have the sword. Besides, she's barely knee-high to a house-elf. I think we can overpower her if it turns ugly."

Hermione sighed, "There's something odd about her. And what's that smell?"

"She's gaga, remember?" Harry cracked a small smile, trying to ignore the smell as well.

"It smells like death," Rosalie spoke grimly, that sick smell flooding her nose, reminding her of all the deaths seen, heard, and smelled at the Malfoy Manor.

It was then that Bathilda returned, holing a box of matches in her hand. She tried to strike on, but it failed as her movements were clumsy, something Harry noticed. "Here. Let me do that," he offered.

"You have a lovely house, Miss Bagshot," Hermione smiled at her.

Rosalie looked around the room, seeing all of the photographs hanging upon the walls. They weren't moving, they were still, like the muggle ones.

"Miss Bagshot?" Harry turned to the elderly woman, "Who is this man?" Rosalie didn't look. "His name. Can you tell me his name?"

Rosalie still didn't look, a little scared to. She only stared at the photograph of Ariana Dumbledore, how happy she seemed and how awful she felt.

"This is him, Hermione. The one I saw in Gregorovitch's wandshop. The theif. Miss Bagshot, who is he?" at the urgent sound in Harry's voice, Rosalie turned, but she didn't know who the man was.

"She wants us to go upstairs," Harry looked at the woman, translating what her eyes were saying.

"All right..." Hermione bit her lip, moving. As she did, Bathilda shook her head, pointing at Harry.

"She wants me to go," Harry looked at them with nervousness, "Alone."

"Why?" Hermione asked, stepping forward towards him. Harry shook his head, taking a step back.

"It's all right," he shook his head, "You two stay here."

"Harry..."

"Absolutely not," Rosalie crossed her arms, "Harry, we don't know this woman, what do you think's going to happen? She hasn't a spoken a word now, and she's not going to speak a word later."

"You don't know that, Rose," Harry looked at her, "I have to try – she might know something."

Harry moved with Bathilda to go upstairs while Rosalie turned to the Granger girl. She moved towards Hermione, already afraid enough in the house. Still, the house smelt like death and Rosalie couldn't think, the smell clogging up her mind as well.

The hissing was heard then. Hermione and Rosalie walked towards the stairs. The two approached quietly, seeing go up the stairs, and that was when they heard harry roar in pain. Rosalie didn't even think before racing up the stairs and into the room, raising her wand the same time Hermione did, both of them yelling a spell that caused the large snake to vanish into nothing as everything around them was destroyed.

Hermione looked at Rosalie, and the two lifted Harry up, Apparating out of there and somewhere safe – into the woods and out of the fire.