Chapter twenty; December Twenty-Fifth

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As soon as her feet touched the ground and her knees bent to stick the landing, Olivia let go of Hermione's hand. She took a few steps off to the left and took in harsh breaths that reacted against her lungs. It pained her to take those much needed breaths but she had to do what was necessary. Her lungs stung and it wasn't long before she started coughing into the thick fabric coating her arm.

Through the fabric she felt a gentle hand on her back as it rubbed circles around the top of her shoulders while she continued to muffle her coughs into her sleeve. She thought it was Hermione, until she spotted her shoes treading footmarks into the snow that had not long fallen into the ground. She realised then that it was Harry who was rubbing her back as she coughed violently.

Once she was done, she straightened out and turned to the Boy Who Lived. Harry stood already looking at her while offering her a small closed mouth smile. Olivia returned the gesture and croaked back her thanks as Hermione reproached them. Olivia exhaled, her warm breath crystallising as it hit the drastic cold temperature that layered them like a blanket.

"Remind me to give you some more of the Pepperup Potion later on." Hermione said.

"You're not my mother Hermione." Olivia croaked, her voice raw from the coughing she had done over the week, "I can take care of myself."

Hermione smiled sadly. Olivia hadn't been well since they had left the White Cliffs of Dover a month or so ago. What started as a simple, common cold had to their knowledge at least turned into a chest infection of some sorts. No amount of potion would clear the source of the problem fully and she was only left with temporary release.

It was why she was layered from head to toe in clothes. Incase she grew worse, incase the chest infection developed into something Hermione couldn't control..

"I know," Hermione said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder, "but you refuse to take care of yourself, somebody has to do it."

Olivia sniffled and rubbed the tip of her red nose, "You shouldn't be burdened with taking care of me Hermione. I'm not some old, dying—" She couldn't continue as she chocked on another cough. When she was finished she straightened up and nodded once at the girl, "Fine."

At that they turned to watch as Harry slowly stepped though the snow that had laid peacefully across the ground. As the dark sky blanketed them and the lights illuminated the streets, Olivia took the time to look around. She saw the park her and Ron had had their first argument in when they were nine, about whose turn it was on the swing. She then turned to the corner next to the gates where she had slipped on the ice just before Christmas when she was thirteen with Cedric. Then there was the graveyard that sat in the centre of Godric's Hollow and she remembered the day she apparated from Hogsmeade when she passed her exam.

The point was; everywhere she tuned, there was a memory of some form.

She kept looking around until her eyes found the corner she used to walk round to get to her house. The one she grew up in with her adoptive parents. The one she took her first steps in, the one she received her Hogwarts letter in. The one she burned down to the ground. She didn't dare turn that corner. She didn't want to see what was left of her childhood home.

"I still think we should've used Polyjuice Potion." Hermione spoke uncertainty.

"No," Harry protested, "this is where I was born. I don't want to return as someone else."

Olivia nodded in understanding, in honesty she felt the same. If she were Harry, and only now just visiting the place in which she was born she wouldn't want to be returning as a different person either.

Around the three, where they stood in separate places down the road, church bells began to ring and it was softy accompanied by the sound of singing. It drew their attention to the church and Olivia took slow steps to Harry's side where Hermione did the same. They watched in silence as those who where signing inside made their way out with grins on their happy faces.

Olivia envied them.

Jealousy filled her stomach and ate at the darkest parts of her soul. She envied their happiness and how carefree they looked. She envied that they were surrounded by their family .. and it was all because she wasn't.

Then Hermione broke the silence, "I-I think it's Christmas Eve .. listen."

They looked beyond the graveyard and to the church but Harry drew their attention back, "Do you think they'll be in there? My mum and dad?"

With the snow falling lightly around them Olivia, for the first time in months, finally felt at peace with herself again. She felt happy and calm, as if there was no curse looming over her head and affecting her life. It wasn't threatening her anymore and she felt clear, she didn't resent Harry in that time.

So, she stepped forwards and placed her gloved hand on his shoulder. He turned back to look at her and accepted her small smile, "Yeah," She told him, "they are. I've seen them."

"You have?" Harry asked curiously, "How? Where?"

"They're with my adoptive parents and my dad, I visited when I apparated from Hogsmeade that day in sixth year remember?"

Harry looked like he didn't know where to put himself. On one hand he looked happy to know his parents were in there — the graveyard — but he also looked heartbroken at the same time, as if knowing his parents were buried there made it genuine. He eventually closed his parted lips and swallowed, "I-I want to see them," he fought out, "will you show me?"

As an answer Olivia offered her hand for Harry to take while smiling sympathetically at him. After slight hesitation he took her offer and laced his fingers through hers and allowed Olivia to guide him through the graveyard. Hermione had wandered off on her own, to leave the two with some peace as they located the graves of the ones they had lost.

"I think it's beautifully ironic." Olivia broke the silence as she spotted the three headstones lined up next to one another, "That they were all buried next to one another, and that even death can't separate them."

Harry nodded before he forced himself to speak, "I wonder whose idea it was."

Olivia, still holding his hand, looked to him with a small closed mouthed smile, "No doubt our dads ideas." She then proceeded to walk the walk few steps over to the graves and gave Harry's hand a gentle squeeze as they stopped.

He looked to her uncertainly, almost as if he needed the final push to look down in front of him. Olivia understood his hesitation completely. She had once been in his place, walking in the graveyard with no knowledge of who was buried there. She was just crossing though, looking and reading the headstones when she came across her adoptive parents first, and then her father's and then Lily and James'.

She gave him the push he needed and again offered him another smile.

It shocked Harry. The amount of genuine smiles she had offered him since they had landed in Godric's Hollow not even ten minutes ago had truly shocked him. He hadn't seen her smile this much since she had been in the company of Sirius, whether those smiles were sympathetic or not. He then figured that Godric's Hollow was most likely an emotional tether of some sorts to Olivia. She held a connection to where she grew up, and it grounded her.

It offered the stability and the safe feeling she had needed for months.

"Go on," She told him softly, "you'll feel better once you've seen them."

She watched as Harry broke away from her gaze and looked down to his parents grave. His eyes transfixed on the headstone as he reflected and while he looked to his parents grave, she looked to her father's.

She stayed within range, their hands still on-joined as she remembered her dad. The notorious Sirius Black, known for all sorts. Good and bad. Her time with him had been short and sweet and while his death had been unexpected and untimely, she cherished every single moment with him dearly. Olivia would give anything to see her father again, to hear his laugh or watch him smile. To hear his voice scold her for running off or praise her for defying Umbridge.

It hurt her so much to think of him. The pain in her heart was excruciating. The void left in his wake was wide and it devoured her whole. She never recovered after her father's death because she hadn't mourned her loss properly. She understood this now. The entire grieving process had been taken away from her by Voldemort when he tried to make her a Death Eater. Because of his attempt she didn't have time to mourn, she just had to focus on staying on the right path. Staying away from the dark.

Unbeknownst to her, Hermione had found them and had taken Harry's other side before kneeling down in front of Lily and James' grave. She drew her wand and transfigured a reef formed of white roses to rest against their headstone. Olivia did the same to her father's grave before moving on to her adoptive parents so all three had matching reefs on their graves.

Hermione stood back up on her feet at the same time Olivia did and took Harry's hand again. The boy sniffled, rubbing his nose while Olivia allowed one stray tear to roll down her cheek.

"Merry Christmas." Harry spoke quietly to them.

Olivia squeezed Harry's hand as she felt more water springing to her eyes. Harry took his hand from hers and instead wrapped it around her waist and pulled Olivia into his side. There, she lowered her head to the crook of his neck while Hermione did the same, "Merry Christmas you guys." Olivia whispered hoarsely, choking back her unshed tears, "I love you both."

Hermione reached around Harry's back and rubbed her arm comfortingly, "I love you too Liv."

They fell into a silence before Hermione whispered out to them, "There's someone watching us," she spoke quietly, "by the church."

Olivia lifted her head to look discreetly over first, allowing her wand to drop fractionally from where it was hidden under her sleeve. The person watching them was an old looking woman, dressed in a long trench coat over the top of tights and a dress. It made Olivia suspicious and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a tingling sensation lapped around at the very bottom of her spine before climbing up to her neck quickly.

As Harry turned to look she turned and started to walk away, almost like she wanted them to follow her, "I think I know who that is."

Olivia swallowed deeply, "I don't have a very good feeling about this."

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"I don't like this Harry." Hermione whispered as they followed the woman down the street carefully. Olivia's wand was now fully drawn and she constantly looked around them out of caution.

"Hermione, she knew Dumbledore. She might have the sword."

"But she might not." Olivia whispered back, still looking around, "this could very well be a trap Harry."

"I need to know what she knows Olivia, I have to take that risk." Harry said as he came to a sudden stop.

With her wand still drawn Olivia looked to see where Harry had stopped, and found him looking to the house in front of them. It looked old and worn down with the windows bordered up, Olivia figured no one had lived there in years.

The house still felt familiar to her though, like she had seen it before in a photograph or something and she stepped forwards too. She fell in line with Harry as he spoke, "This is where they died."

With her brows drawn in she lifted her shaking left hand and rested it on top of the snow-covered wall. From the simple action she was subjected to pain-induced feminine screams and grave flashes of green light. She removed her hand quickly and stepped back, staring up to the house in disbelief.

"This is where he murdered them."

Olivia caught movement out of the corner of her eye and span quickly to see the woman they had followed stood directly in front of them. She had appeared out of thin air and as common as that was for magic, Olivia believed it wasn't right to have happened just then. With her heart pounding rapidly in her chest she rose her wand slightly in a defensive manner.

She was incredibly old looking, wrinkles coating her face like a mask. And while she wore a hood, Olivia could still see the sheer whiteness of her hair. Around her flys drifted about, creating a horrid buzzing sound as she stared only at Harry.

"You're Bathilda aren't you?" He asked.

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Olivia tried over and over to convince herself it was the constant ringing of Salazar Slytherin's locket she was hearing, not another Horcrux stashed away inside the shabby and shifty house she was stood in.

Her entire right hand was white and numb from the severity of how hard she gripped to her wand as they moved about in Bathilda Bagshot's house. She eyed the place rather intuitively for anything that seemed out of the ordinary as Harry worked on lighting a candle for the elder woman.

"Ms. Bagshot, who's this man?" Harry asked, lifting the moving photograph for her to see.

Waiting on an answer that never came, the three watched as Bathilda walked away and up towards the small curling stairs over in the corner of the room. She had only a lamp to guide her as she descended upwards and Olivia caught Hermione's anxious eyes. She clocked Harry about to tail after her but stepped forwards in front of him, "Go after me." She told him sternly, putting her foot on the bottom step.

"What?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Go after me." She repeated, this time snappier and clearer as she pushed her other foot off the bottom floor and on to the second step.

With a poker face and her lips pressed tightly closed Olivia followed Ms. Bagshot up her stairs first, with Harry behind as he lit up the tip of his wand.

"Do you hear it?" She whispered back to him, following after Bagshot as she entered a room opposite the stairs.

"What?"

"Do you hear it?" She repeated.

Harry gulped behind her, "The ringing?"

Olivia nodded her head slowly, "It's too loud to be just one Horcrux."

"I agree." Harry said as they stopped in front of Bathilda. The woman looked slowly down to Olivia's drawn wand before looking to the boy she shielded. She was shocked to say the least when Bathilda started speaking to Harry in Parseltongue but even more shocked when she understood what they were saying to each other.

It rattled Olivia even more and her frame shook ever so slightly. She thought one with the gift of being a Parceltongue could only speak with that of a snake. She wasn't aware that two Parcelmouths could speak to one another.

When Harry left her side she suppressed the overwhelming urge to catch his wrist. He walked over to a lone photo album that sat open on a table in the corner of an empty room and Olivia didn't know whether to follow him and look or stay where she was and watch Bathilda. She didn't feel anything good at the minute and she didn't feel anything positive emitting from the woman in front of her either.

Never taking her eyes from Bathilda's frame she walked ever so slowly over to Harry and only took her eyes away to peer over his shoulder. She glanced at the four photographs on the page, all old looking and of faces she never recognised.

When she turned around she missed Bathilda's body convulse as it morphed into a snake, Voldemort's snake, and she missed Nagini preparing to attack.

The hunch she had that something wasn't quite right when she first laid eyes on Bagshot was, as always, right.

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Today has been one big emotional rollercoaster!

Aside from the ever-growing stress of A-levels and university applications, one of my favourite stories on Wattpad came to an end today. I cried numerous times over the epilogue & I'm absolutely gutted that it's over. It's given me the inspiration to write, even when I'm suffering from a mental block — similar to what I'm suffering from now — and it will forever go down as one of my favourite books on this site.

On another note, this is my last fully written chapter to be published. It is also a long chapter in word count, but I feel like not much has happened. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it!