A/N: Let me know what you guys think of this chapter since it is the longest one I've written for this story. Hope you enjoy. Really, any constructive criticism/review you can leave really helps me out.

Chapter 14

"Don't worry mate. The letter probably got lost on its way here. Should arrive any moment now," said Ron as he grabbed another potato from the pile his mother had left for them on the kitchen counter. Through the window, snow could be seen drifting across the winds.

"Yeah. That must be it, right?" Harry said, a hint of disappointment in his words.

It was the 23rd of December, only a couple of days after they had departed Hogwarts, and Harry hadn't heard from Daphne yet. A little part of himself was grateful he hadn't heard anything from the blonde, but truth be told, he was a step away from turning into a nervous wreck. Sure, he wanted to protect her, and he knew he should have kept his distance. But what if she had come to the same conclusion? What if she had realized how much of a target she was becoming for Voldemort?

And what about her parents? Would they be okay with their relationship? They were one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight after all. They were expected to uphold pureblood values and traditions. Where did they stand on blood purity? They had raised Daphne, so they obviously weren't Death Eaters, but Harry didn't really know that much about them. Daphne had told her who they were, their names and what they meant to her. The basics. He didn't know anything about their political stance or their history.

Out of his friends, only Neville knew a bit about the Greengrass family through tales his grandmother had told him. And even then, it wasn't much. An uncle who had gambling debts and fled to America; a grandfather who had cheated on his wife with another wizard; a distant cousin who had married a French witch; it was all just useless gossip. Harry trusted that should Daphne be a fluke in her family, perhaps Dumbledore would have mentioned it.

Harry and Ron were standing alone on the Burrow's kitchen. Nobody else was in the house. The twins had gone down to the village and Ginny was out, visiting Luna. Bill and Charlie had gone out to buy some last-minute provisions for the Order's Christmas Eve get together and Fleur and Mrs. Weasley had gone with them. Mr. Weasley, on the other hand, was pulling long hours at the Ministry. Every single member of the Ministry staff seemed to be doing so lately. Things weren't going as smoothly as advertised on The Prophet.

"You never said… what did she think of the necklace?" asked the redhead. He seemed to be lost in thought as he stared into his potato. His movements were slow, almost dreamlike.

"She… well, I think she loved it," Harry said as he threw a piece of potato skin into the pot Mrs. Weasley had instructed them to do. She was already cooking some of the dishes they would be having for their Christmas Eve Dinner. That woman planned everything months in advanced.

"Told you she would. I take it that was her Christmas Present?"

"Only part of it."

"How many Christmas gifts are you going to give this girl, Harry? You´ll spoil her rotten," replied Ron.

There was no hint of jealousy or discontent on the redhead's face. For the first time since Harry had confessed his intentions in regards to Daphne, Ron could say that he was happy that his best friend had found love with Daphne Greengrass. The skin around his mouth crinkled until a little smile formed on his lips.

For years, he had seen them on Harry's bedside table. Always twirling, laughing and smiling for the camera. He had seen them again the week before. The night of Slughorn's party. He knew he was probably getting ahead of himself but from the moment it clicked, Ron promised himself that he would do for Daphne as he would for Harry. Without question.

"Oh yeah? What are you even getting for Lavender," asked Harry, unaware of the thoughts that raced through Ron's mind.

"I'll let you know that I commissioned a nice little portrait of the two of us from Dean," replied Ron. But it seemed to have been the wrong answer since Harry's face turned into a small scowl.

"Oi, what are you making that face for? Dean's an artist."

"That bastard," muttered Harry. "He convinced me to take a commission from him as well. If you cast a Reducio just right, you can get it to fit on the locket, he said. He was only trying to make another sale!"

"He must be making a killing out of this," said Harry, under his breath, a couple of seconds later as he lifted his right hand to his chin and calculated the logistics.

"Think I could be his manager?" Asked Ron minutes after the two of them had gone back to peeling the potatoes, making them both laugh at the joke.

Daphne's letter arrived that night.

It was Christmas Eve and almost every member of the Order of the Phoenix that Harry knew had been invited to the Burrow. Outside, the last rays of sunlight flashed across the sky, turning it into a tonal sea of reds, pinks and oranges. A couple of members of the Order were staying for dinner but only Remus would stay the night.

Due to the multitude of people, it was decided that dinner would be conducted outside and once enough folk had retired to other gatherings, they would move inside.

The twins and Charlie enlarged a couple of tables from the dining room and moved them outside before going to help Ginny and Luna (who was staying with the Weasleys since her father was on an emergency trip to Europe) with a group of gnomes who had invited themselves to the party. So, while Bill and Mr. Weasley levitated the tent into place, it was up to Ron and Harry to move chairs, dishes, utensils and more.

Harry had never had any problem with physical labor, it made him feel connected to the world around him in a way that only those who had lived without magic would understand, but seeing the easiness with which the older Weasleys set everything up, made him yearn for his 17th birthday.

Before the Sun had completely set: the decorations were ready, and the table was full to the brim. Sweet cakes soaked in honey, thick barley soup with beef, a mixture of beef broth and boiled wine sweetened with honey and dotted with blanched almonds and chunks of capon, lemon cakes frosted in sugar, mushroom and onion stuffed turkey, sweetcorn and turnips, black bread and a creamy white stew. All of that and more. Harry had only seen so much food crammed into a table back at Hogwarts. He eyed the table, wondering what he would try first. He hadn´t eaten anything since he and Ron returned from dropping their friends' Christmas presents in the Owl Post Office.

"Good job boys," a voice behind them said, making Harry jump slightly.

"Remus!" a red-haired streak darted pass Harry and Ron to hug their old professor. His footsteps had gone by unnoticed. Harry reprimanded himself internally. He would have to work on something to avoid being sneaked up on again. If Mad Eye thought he wasn't taking their training seriously, he would probably drop him from the top of the Astronomy Tower.

Normally, it would have been strange to see Ginny be so affectionate towards anyone but her older brothers (except Ron). But something had changed. Harry recalled Hermione telling him of how Remus and Ginny had grown closer during their stay at Grimmauld Place the year before. Apparently, having your mind and body taken over by a foreign entity while still being able to know what you were doing wasn´t the only thing they had in common. Both of them really liked pasta.

Their smiles were a reminder. A reminder of what he had to lose. A reminder that raised him up just to wait for his fall. His right hand twitched slightly before he remembered where he was. It did no good to dwell on those things during Christmas Eve. He willed himself to look up towards his father´s last surviving best friend and smile.

He saw the flash of purple light coming at him just a moment too late. He reached for his wand even though he knew he wouldn´t be able to stop whatever spell had just been thrown at him. Time stood still. He could feel the heat coming out of the—

A red tower shield made of stone rose from the earth in front of him. A gong-like sound echoed across the night before the familiar barking of a grizzled Auror filled Harry´s ears. The stone cracked and began to glow before fading to dust. From the other side of the table, Ron winked at Harry.

"Didn´t expect anything less of you, Weasley!" yelled Mad-Eyed Moody from the hill behind them. He could have gone through the Burrow´s like anybody else but then again, he was no ordinary wizard. His leg clunked even when hitting the soft ground in the Weasley´s backyard. His electric blue eye whirling on its socket as he shook Harry's hand.

"No wands near the dinner table!" came a shout from the kitchen followed by a loud shattering noise and a string of curses from the mouth of Mrs. Weasley.

"Bah! How am I supposed to teach these lads to protect themselves if you take their tools away, woman?" Mad-Eye yelled back as he clapped Harry´s shoulders with a scarred hand. He greeted the rest of the Weasleys and nudged Remus towards the Burrow. No matter how much Harry thought he had grown up, they still treated him like a child at times.

As the night went on, more members of the Order of the Phoenix shuffled in and out of the Burrow. Kingsley Shackebolt, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, Hagrid, Tonks, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick (a welcomed surprise for Harry), and many new faces came and went as the hours passed by. In times of turmoil, a good stew and a warm fire can do wonders to join people and raise morale.

It would be a smaller group of people that would receive the unexpected guest in the Weasley household.

"So how are they adapting to it?" asked Mr. Weasley before taking a sip from his mulled wine. Fleur could be heard in the background, complaining on the terrible choice of music for the evening. It seemed that nobody beyond Mrs. Weasley liked Celestina Warbeck.

"They´re doing quite well. It was a first time taking it for some of them. Having Snape as an ally does come in handy when befriending werewolves," answered Remus taking a bite out of a turkey leg. There was a bit of bitterness in his voice.

"That´s why you were missing for a couple of weeks last month? You´re recruiting again, aren´t you?" asked Ron. He had completely ignored the plate full of food in front of him. He was leaning forward, elbows propped on the small table near the fireplace, trying to hear what the senior members of the Order discussed. They could listen now but they weren´t exactly invited over to join every conversation.

"I've been living among my fellow werewolves, yes. Half of them are in Voldemort's pocket already. Dumbledore wanted someone to infiltrate their camps. To give them an alternative. A spy. And here I was, ready to volunteer," he finished with a mocking nod of the head, as if taking in the applause of an audience.

"I'm not complaining. I know what is asked of me. But it was hard to convince the few that I have from turning their back to The Dark Lord," his turkey leg was all but forgotten. He was staring deep into the fire raging in the chimney.

"But… How can they think they would have it better with Voldemort?"

"Because he has Fenrir Greyback on his side," answered Mr. Weasley, looking into the flames.

"Who is Fenrir Greyback?" asked Ron, quietly.

Lupin's hands twitched before bawling into fists. The last true Marauder alive took a deep breath and told them.

Lupin told them of a werewolf that reminded Harry of every single story he had ever heard about them in them muggle world. Lupin told them of how Fenrir would willingly, during full moons, position himself to infect people with lycanthropy. How he would focus on children, hoping to infect as many people as possible and raise them to hate wizarding kind. It wasn't hard when wizards already treated those inflicted by the curse of lycanthropy as nothing more than dirt.

"He's the monster who bit me. My father had offended him in some way. For many years I didn't even knew. I felt pity for the poor soul who had bitten me, thinking them to be victim of the spirit of the wolf. I know differently now. It is hard to reason with people who have been fed an ideology for most of their lives. But I was able to reason with those that still saw themselves as people and not just as wolves. When the time comes, they might even just join us," finished Remus with a sigh.

Harry was about to reach out to him, to comfort him and let him know that he was no different than anyone, that he had only a little problem. It was then that Mrs. Weasley's yell rose from the other side of the room.

Harry turned towards the Weasley matriarch and followed her gaze. He held his breathe once he recognized the shadow standing in the door frame. From one of the armchairs near the chimney, Bill stood up and walked towards his younger brother.

Ever since Fudge had resigned, the Weasley's relationship with Percy became almost non-existent. While he had come to the idea that Voldemort had indeed returned, he didn't agree with his family's choice of supporting a 'rogue agent' instead of Ministry officials. He hadn't been by the Burrow in months and hadn't even bothered to reach out to them.

Percy whispered something into Bill´s ear and after a couple of seconds of hushed conversation, the two of them walked towards their parents. Mrs. Weasley rushed her third son, throwing herself at her arms. Percy hesitated before coldly wrapping his arm around his mother´s frame.

"Perce wants to talk to us," Bill said once his mother had calmed down. Harry saw him standing straight, looking taller and menacing and yet he could see disappointment in his eyes. The oldest Weasley brother gave Remus a nod and with a wave, the rest of the Order guests understood it was a private family matter.

Hagrid and Mundungus were the firsts to leave, speaking about some hogs and a couple of dragons. Hestia Jones and Fleur were next whispering something about Hogsmeade and some recruits as they made their way to the backyard. Harry was standing up from the armchair he had been in, ready to follow the last pair out towards the tent on the Burrow´s backyard when Bill´s hand firmly landed on his shoulder.

"You can stay Harry," said the oldest Weasley child. Harry tried to eye the rest of the room but Bill´s hand gripped his shoulder and he sat once more.

"This is a family matter," Percy squeaked. His cheeks were turning red as he gripped the back of one of the chairs.

"Good," said the twins in unison, "that's why he stays." The two of them had been playing a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny but it had been forgotten once Percy appeared on their front door.

Besides the chimney, Mr. Weasley spoke.

"Whatever you have to say Percy, you can say it in front of your brothers," with a jolt, Harry realized he was being counted among that number. A tingling sensation collected on the tip of his toes all the way up to the end of his hairs. Mr. Weasley turned towards Harry, giving him a reassuring nod. Harry felt his chest burst and a weight being lifted of his shoulders at seeing the warmth in not just Mr. Weasley´s face but on the rest of the whole Weasley family as well.

It was for that same reason that he decided to stand, excuse himself and go out through the front door. He needed to be alone for a second. Tears where threatening to come out. He could have sworn he heard Ginny yell that he didn´t have to go right before he closed the front door.

As he walked along the snow-covered garden, he could still see some of the adults huddled below the tent in the yard. He knew he should start thinking of himself as one of them if he wanted to be taken seriously. But… Dumbledore had always trusted him. Hadn't he proven enough? Before he made a decision, he saw the French witch. Fleur was sitting on the ground, her back leaning against the white fence delimiting the Weasley's property. She was looking up, towards the night sky. It seemed Hestia had left altogether.

As Harry walked towards Fleur, he realized that everywhere around her was winter. It had snowed all morning and there were big patches of white all around the front yard; the cold wind blew against her hair as she tried to keep it in place; the Christmas lights around the fence shone bright, there was mistletoe growing on it too; and yet, where she stood, autumn sang its last notes. Her silver-blonde hair lit up whenever a light shone near her and Harry was sure he could smell strawberries, roses and marigolds.

Harry watched her for a while, enthralled by the beautiful woman looking at the stars with a content smile on her face. Without thinking, almost involuntarily, he took a step forward and the spell broke. She turned towards him, looked into his eyes and smiled before patting the spot on the snow next to her. He sat, bringing his knees close to his chest, just like her. He had only been this close to her once. Back during the tournament.

"´ello ´arry," her voice broke the silent night. And just like Luna, Harry could hear the song of her sadness. The smile he had seen just seconds ago all but vanished.

"Is everything all right Fleur?"

"Oui. I was just remembering," Fleur´s fingers traced mysterious shapes in the snow that had piled up next to her.

A wave of guilt filled Harry´s chest. He was back in the graveyard. He was clutching his body. He was bleeding. He was screaming in pain. His breath was caught in his throat. He felt his eyes water. The knife touched his skin. He was…

Fleur took his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I´m sorry, ´arry. I did not mean to make you remember. William told me what… what ze ´orrible man did," she looked towards the heavens once more. A star flickered and died in the deep blueness of the night.

"It is one of ze reasons I decided to stay in Britain. Of course, I love William but I just…. ´ave you ever imagined it? What we could ´ave been?" She dropped his hand and Harry immediately ached for it. He remembered a laugh, a smile, a scent. Lilac and gooseberries. Shame flooded his thoughts.

Next to him, Fleur stretched her arms in front of her, making a rectangle with her fingers, as if taking a picture of the night sky.

"Ze four champions. Working together! We could ´ave been a team. United against ze world. Silly schoolgirl thoughts," she laughed as she said that, her words dripping with sarcasm.

Out of every scenario he had imagined where Cedric hadn't died, Harry had never thought of an International Champion Squad. He knew Fleur was just joking but even then. They were supposed to be the best students of the best schools in all of Europe after all. And even when Harry had been entered by Crouch Jr. to try and kill him, he still held himself pretty well in the competition. Could those have been Dumbledore´s initial plans for the competition? An ideal to strive towards. Percy had mentioned it had been a Ministry idea but… had it? The moment passed, and Fleur spoke again.

"´arry. I've been speaking with some friends back 'ome. I've even reached out to Victor. William 'as already told your Headmaster but I wanted to tell you too. We are willing to ´elp you in everything you need. Every second that I´ve spent with William has thought me there are things worth fighting for. And who would I be if I let this ´appen so close to my own ´ome? So close to my family? What kind of woman would I be if didn't stand up to it?" she whispered, looking down at her close fists.

"Kru—Victor and… you talk often?" asked Harry. He was more surprised at the fact that Fleur and Krum were pen pals than by the fact that they were willing to fight for him. For Britain.

"Oui. We owl often. ´e´s written ´e´s ready to leave his Quidditch career to come ´elp you and ze Order. All 'is life 'e 'as been aware of how dark magic can destroy peoples lives," she said, turning towards him.

Harry was finding it hard to process. They were willing to leave their own countries to fight? They had their own personal reasons sure, but the way Fleur was phrasing it… They were willing to fight for him? Not only that but they´d been owl pals for the past year and a half. What about him? Wasn´t he a champion too? He was sure Fleur could have gotten his contact info had she asked anyone. Fleur´s gaze brought him back down to Earth.

"'arry? Are you okay with this?"

And before he could answer no, he really thought on what Fleur had said. "So close to my own home." Would France come next? And what had Krum meant? Had he lost someone to dark magic?

She was right. Harry knew it. He had always known. Voldemort would not stop with a school let alone a country. His pride and hunger for power and recognition would lead him to higher conquests. He felt it was his legacy, his duty, to guide wizard kind to a new place of power in a new tomorrow. If Harry did not stop him here, his hate would spread. Somewhere down the line, Harry hoped, someone would be able to stop him. But he could not allow himself to fail. So yes. He would take all the help he could get no matter how much it pained him. Because waiting for somewhere down the line meant a lot of lives would be lost. Human, goblins, elves. Everyone needed him to succeed. It wasn´t pride or his "saving-people-thing" it was just a fact. Destiny had made sure of that.

"Yes."

"Magnifique. Together, nothing will stand against us," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder. They stayed that way for a while, in perfect silence, until Fleur spoke again.

"But what is this I 'ear about you 'aving a girlfriend? I 'eard Ginevra talking about it with the Lovegood girl. Gabrielle will be so jealous," said Fleur as she stood from the ground, her melodic night being carried away by the wind.

"Do you have any idea what you'll be wearing to 'er event tomorrow?"

Harry fell as he was trying to stand up. He hadn't stopped to think about that. There was no way in hell he would wear his muggle clothes to a pureblood Christmas party. He was pretty sure his old dress robes wouldn't fit him anymore. Ron had gotten new ones from the twins, but would they be too big for him? And he couldn't wear his dark school robes if he was trying to impress anyone, he'd look like a beggar in front of one of the wealthiest wizarding families in Britain. He had never cared for that, and he knew neither did Daphne, but Harry still wanted to impress her parents.

"I… don't know."

"Then it is good I arrived the moment I did, is it not? I know just the place to get your attire for tomorrow's evening, Harry," an old grandfatherly voice said from Harry's back as he dusted himself off.

Harry whirled to see Professor Dumbledore, hands crossed behind his back, wearing a robe dark as ebony with tiny, little pink flowers blossoming and withering with every step the old Headmaster took. It reminded Harry of Japanese kimonos he had seen once in an old BBC documentary.

"Miss Delacour, could you do me the favor of letting the Weasleys know that Harry and I are going on a little jaunt for the rest of the evening? I would do so myself but… it seems that it is not the right time," Dumbledore said as his head turned towards the Burrow.

Fleur greeted the Headmaster and agreed to rally the message once whatever they were discussing inside was discussed. She waved Harry goodbye and walked back towards the Burrow as snow fell around her.

"Professor, I didn't expect to see you here tonight," said Harry as he took the Headmaster's outstretched arm.

"I had planned for my arrival to be earlier in the evening but alas, I had to take care of some very dire business. But I must confess Harry, while this is indeed a social call, I do have other motives for stealing you away for the night. I hope you do not mind," said Harry's mentor as he stared into his pupil's eyes. Once the young wizard nodded with his agreement, everything went black.

They appeared on the middle of a snowy lane under a dark blue sky that was full to the brim with stars. Cottages, with Christmas decorations on their facades, stood on either side of the narrow road they found themselves in. Ahead of them, the golden glow of streetlights illuminated an ornated Christmas tree. Soft music could be heard from one of the pubs nearby. The center of the village.

Harry had never really been to a village like this one. Ottery St. Catchpole had half the buildings these village had and thus was smaller by comparison. Instantly, it hit Harry. They had apparated in the middle of a street on Christmas Eve. He quickly scanned their surroundings but found no one was looking at them. The street was deserted.

No one had been around to see them but, what was the professor thinking? Harry turned towards the grey-haired wizard only to see an expression of sadness in his face. Where were they?

"Professor, where are we?"

"We are in Godric's Hollow, Harry," answered Dumbledore as he strode across the snowy road, motioning for Harry to follow him.

Godric's Hollow. He had heard that name before, once. The place was obviously named after one of Hogwarts founders but why couldn't Harry remember where he had heard about the quaint little village? As Harry raced to catch up to his mentor, he took in the sights of the town.

The icy air stung on his face as they passed more cottages with snow-covered roofs and front porches decorated festively. Dumbledore seemed to be leading them out of the village. They passed pubs, several stores, a post office and even a small church with beautiful stained-glass windows. All around town there were colored lights.

The farther they got from the center of town, the wider the distance between buildings grew. They were in the very outskirts of the town. They had passed a couple of villagers on the way, but they were now alone. Not many people frequented this part of town.

They were standing a couple of passes away from a dark mass of wood. Harry felt a tremendous weight deep inside his chest and a hollowness in his stomach as he took the sights in. The hedges had grown all over the small stone wall that had once surrounded the property. Most of the cottage was still standing. It was covered in dark ivy and snow but anyone who knew that a cottage had stood there could still see its distinctive shape. The right side of the top floor had been blown apart though. The part of the house where his room had been.

They were on the place that had once been his home.

His vision blurred, and he could see three timelines at once. What had been. What was. What could have been. He had involuntarily begun to search for the traces left behind. Except this time, he was prepared. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and released the grip that the traces of the past had on him.

He saw what his first year of life had been like, but he knew he could not walk down that path. He imagined what his life would have been like had he not been cursed by the prophecy, but he knew he could not dwell of what could have been.

He opened his eyes and took in what was. Dumbledore's hand was resting on his shoulder. Harry could see the professor's eyes, closed as if asleep. A solitary tear raced down the professor's cheek.

"Why… Why wasn't ever rebuilt? " asked Harry, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

"It belongs to you, Harry. No one dared touch it. Not out of fear but out of respect. "

Harry stretched his hand to grasp the rusted gate, not to open it but merely to hold some part of the life he could never have had.

His touch on the gate did it. A sign rose out of the ground in front of them, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it said:

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.

And all around these neatly lettered words, scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still others had left messages. The most recent of these, shining brightly over fifteen years' worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things.

Good luck, Harry, wherever you are.

If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you!

Long live Harry Potter.

"Thank you¸ professor," beamed Harry.

"You should not thank me, Harry. I should have brought you here long ago, my boy. It is but one of the numerous mistakes I have committed."

"It's okay, sir. I've always carried them with me. Even back when I slept under the stairs. I knew they were out there, watching out for me. But I am sure this is not the only reason we came here tonight, is it?" Harry said as he rubbed his eyes.

"No, Harry. You are correct. Follow me."

They retraced their steps, making their way back towards the church. And even when he knew dwelling on dreams did no good. He couldn't help but imagine what his life would have been like. He could have invited friends to his house… He might even have had brothers and sisters… It would have been his mother who had made his birthday cakes. The life he had lost had hardly ever seemed so real to him as at this moment, when he had just seen the place where it had been taken from him. And yet… How different would it all had been? Would he still have his friends? Would he still be himself? Would he have still found… her?

Daphne Greengrass. The thought of not having her in his life filled Harry with dread. How could he have spent so many years of his life without her? Drifting, aimlessly and incomplete, against the currents? She gave his life a new meaning. Even when he knew that meaning may never truly blossom, because of what he had to fight, he knew that a life without her would not be a fulfilling one at all.

The sound of carols grew louder as they approached the church. There was a kissing gate at the entrance to the graveyard. Dumbledore pushed it open as quietly as possible and they edged through it. On either side of the slippery path to the church doors, the snow lay deep and untouched. They moved off through the snow, carving deep trenches behind them as they walked around the building, keeping to the shadows beneath the brilliant windows.

Behind the church, row upon row of snowy tombstones protruded from a blanket of pale blue that was flecked with dazzling red, gold, and green wherever the reflections from the stained glass hit the snow. Keeping his hand closed tightly on the wand in his jacket pocket, Harry moved toward the place Dumbledore was standing on.

The tears had come before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last remains of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice.

Taking deep, sharp gulps of the night air, he tried to steady himself, tried to regain control. Had he known; he would have brought something to give them. Every plant in the graveyard was leafless and frozen. But Dumbledore raised his hand, and a wreath of Christmas roses blossomed before them. Harry caught it and laid it on his parents' grave. As soon as he stood up, he wanted to leave: He did not think he could stand another moment there. He walked away from his parents' graves and towards the center of the graveyard, where the mausoleum stood.

"I see you have found the other reason for why we have come, " said Dumbledore as his hand touched the cold stone. The mausoleum must have been at least 900 years old and yet, no cracks could be seen upon its stone.

"Gryffindor's last resting place?"

"Indeed Harry."

"Are… are you sure sir? It… It means going back farther than I ever have gone before," Harry said, hesitance in his voice. He had been strong enough to resist the temptation that his old family home presented to him. But would he be strong enough to resist the temptation that 900 years' worth of memories and magic could be? His hands were sweating now. He could fill the stone calling to him.

"Harry, I have always been proud of what you have been able to accomplish. Trust me. You will return. "

Harry nodded, closed his eyes and let himself be taken by the current of water that is magic.

Harry could see through the corridors of time. The story of Godric Gryffindor laid bare for him to experience. Flashes of moments flared before his eyes before Harry could get a hold of his bearings. He could feel his body stretch, disintegrating, loosing itself on the vestiges of what was.

He closed his eyes and remembered who he was. The cold wind on his face. The weight of his glasses on his nose. The fabric rustling against his skin.

Concentrating, he arranged the echoes. And knowing he could not experience the whole of the Hogwarts Founder lifetime without losing himself, he chose those memories which shone brightest. Those whose Godric had carried with him to the grave. Those memories he had wished to leave behind.

Two children, on horseback, racing. The first to reach the edge of the cliff would be the winner. They had always been like this. Be it horse racing, rock throwing, archery or even while sparing with the sword. They were always competing against each other. It was that rivalry that led to their friendship. The redhead was the first to the finish line, as always, but his horse stumbled and fell. His scream was heard all across the valley. Worse thing could have been said of that day had it not been by the awakening of the raven-haired boy's magic.

With an outstretched hand, and tears in his eyes, a little boy saved his best friend from a fatal death.

Harry was transported to a field of green. Hills as far as the eye could see. A soft drizzle fell on the earth while a bit of mist remained close to the ground.

A tall man walked across those green fields. He wore a black armor engraved with hundreds of runes and a crimson cloak that was flapping in the wind. On his breastplate was a golden griffin, adorned with rubies. He had long, red hair which was normally covered by the lion shaped helm he carried in one of his hands. The other, rested on the silver hilt of the sword inside the scabbard hanging from his belt. He was on his way to meet with someone.

From the other side of the road, a man on horseback approached Godric Gryffindor. His horse and his armor were white, but his cloak was a deep emerald and a shiny snake wrought in silver and obsidian pinned its folds against his shoulder.

They greeted each other as old friends. Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor.

Around Harry, time stretched, and quick images of Godric's memories flared before his eyes before settling on one of the next important events.

Four silvery creatures raced across an empty village, fighting against an invisible assailant. A lion, a snake, an eagle and a badger. The founders' patronuses. The four creatures were attacking the invisible enemy while Godric, Salazar, Rowena and Helga made sure that the survivors of the attack ran in the direction of the castle.

As Godric's lingering magic remembered the castle, Hogwarts materialized around Harry. He was in one of the classrooms from the second floor and Godric was speaking with some young Harry's time they would probably be first years.

"Each one of you possesses the magic of the world inside of you. It's been passed down from families by generations, but that does not mean magic cannot blossom from an unexpected place," Godric said as he smiled at one of the children and ruffled the little one's hair. "Magic is what helps us fight to protect those we love even when the odds would be against us. As your teacher, every one of you is my responsibility, every one of you is someone I have sworn to protect. Magic gives us the power to face the unpredictability of the world. Magic is what binds us together," finished the wizard as he raised his right hand and tiny little butterflies materialized all around the children.

The vision changed once more. Harry was standing on the edge of a village, at his side Salazar spoke to him.

"I have always found it hard to understand, how someone born into wealth and power would choose to live like a peasant amongst muggles. You ignore your peers and spend your time amongst laborers and low-class citizens in taverns and brothels," said Salazar as the two best friends overlooked the village Godric had decided to live on.

Silence was Godric's answer.

Salazar's temples were turning gray and Godric's beard was longer that Harry had seen before. Many years had passed since Hogwarts had been funded.

"What has happened to you, old friend? Some days I wish I had never relented to the idea of accepting that scum into our castle."

A disagreement. A discussion. A fight. A corpse. Harry was standing upon the field he had first seen Salazar and Godric in. Except… the earth had been scorched; strange rock formations protruded from the ground; black goo covered the grass around him; big crystal shards were shattered across the area… a battle had taken place here.

A figure laid on the ground, facing up.

"You were always like this, you know? Pathetic," Salazar spat to the side even when he was finding it hard to breathe. "Feeling compassion against an enemy once you've bested them in battle. "

"Is it guilt that stays your hand? Remorse that you couldn't protect your precious mudblood students? Oh…," a twisted snarl formed in Slytherin's face. "You are hoping I'll change my mind. That I'll have a change of heart? Well, you listen to me! The cycle will continue! They will keep hunting us! They will keep burning us at the stake! Just like they did to my Agatha! None of us will survive. And you won't see that your naïve words and ideologies have always been lies until you're the last one stand—"

The redhead interrupted him.

"Ever since the day you save my life. I tried my best to see the world in the way that you used to when we were kids. I used to think that was the reason you had awoken your magical talent before I did. Because of your ideals. There used to be a good man within you, old friend. I won't forget it even when it seems you have. Ever since she died, I've seen you grow bitter and resentful. I had hoped that with the years, you would leave that anger behind, but it seems I was a buffoon for believing it so. You call them foolish hopes and ideals. To me… they used to be what brought you and I together. "

Godric Gryffindor unsheathed his sword and raised it above Salazar's head.

Harry was in Hogwarts once more. He couldn't quite see anything but swirling blackness, but he could hear what was being said. A speech was being given in the great hall. It was an older Godric that spoke now.

"The school… The one that Helga, Rowena, Salazar and I first envisioned… it is something that joined each wizarding family together. It has become an invaluable cornerstone in our world. It has created order out of chaos and has helped us maintain it. It has protected the children and avoided pointless conflicts. It has made peace a reality. And while it seems to some that what we originally dreamed of was not achieved, I say: It is never easy! Our job is to do all that we can, while we're alive, and leave a foundation for future generations to build from. Some may call me naïve, but this is the correct path and it is the one I will guide us on. I believe the day will come when people will truly understand one another. "

Harry was next to the school's gates, years after the last vision. He had been here before. Meters away from an army of black, hooded shapes. Godric Gryffindor stood alone. Sword in one hand, wand in the other. The old wizard was wearing his black armor. The rubies were gone but the runes remained. Harry tried to memorize them to ask Dumbledore about what they meant and what they could do.

The creatures ran towards him. The wizard raised his sword towards the imminent mass of bodies and emerald flames erupted among their ranks. With a flick of his wand, crystal spikes rose from the ground, twelve meters high, sending some enemy combatants into the air and funneling the rest into a narrow hallway blocked by an invisible barrier. The Siege of Hogwarts had begun.

From his satchel, Godric withdrew little wooden figures and scattered them around himself. With his wand, he began tracing shapes in the sky. Yrden. Ule. Igni. Cirth.

He heard it before he saw it. Purple lightning fell from the skies around Godric. He had barely enough time to erect a shield charm. A dragon. Of course, they had brought a lighting-breathing dragon.

He woke the wooden figurines around him, transmuting them into steel, enlarging them to be taller than him and sent them towards the crystal tunnel's entrance. He hoped they would be strong enough to stand the heat should lightning fall on them, but the barrier would not hold for long. Gryffindor raised his wand to his throat and whistled. He dreaded the Sonorous charm wouldn't be enough to be heard all the way on their nests on the other side of the castle.

He only had to hold on to his shield for a couple of seconds more before he heard the shrieks. A flock of griffins flew straight into the Hebridean Black, going straight for its eyes.

A white flash next to him almost blinded the old wizard. Salazar Slytherin stepped out of the light, throwing a ball of compressed black goo into the place where Godric's barrier had just vanished into smoke.

"Salazar!"

"Did you seriously think I would leave you to die alone, old fool? I hate you, but I do not wish for you to perish just yet. Not until I've been proven right!"

It was an excuse. An obvious lie. Godric didn't care. History would not be kind to his childhood friend, and should they fall upon the battlefield, he may never have a chance at redemption. But they could care about the future later. Side by side, Gryffindor and Slytherin stood against an army, just like old times.

No more memories appeared in front of Harry beyond that point. Nothing related to Gryffindor, at least. He was swimming in blackness and trying to get back to Dumbledore when he sensed it. Harry could feel the pull. His parents were beckoning to him. Taking a deep breath, he tried to cut the ribbons of the past trying to tie him down. And that's when he saw it. Traces of Sirius and of… his grandparents? Traces of every Potter who had ever lived in Godric's Hollow. His family. His legacy. He took a step towards them, hesitantly.

Dumbledore would understand. Harry had just lived through what felt like hours, surely a couple more moments spent on the past would go unnoticed? And if he didn't return how bad would that be? He had earned his rest, hadn't he?

He felt it then. Warmth, spreading through his body. A known fragrance making his nostrils flare. Lilac and gooseberries. His right hand went to his chest. A dim light could be seen emanating from within him. He had somewhere to be. He had to go to her. She needed him. And he needed her.

He let go. He swam towards the surface.

"Merry Christmas, Harry," Dumbledore greeted Harry as he helped himacclimate to the world that was around him.

"Is it midnight already?" asked Harry, still a little shaken.

"It is indeed. I hope you can forgive me for my lack of foresight as I did not think of how late it already was when we decided to depart the Burrow. "

"Don't worry, sir. "

The Headmaster was already guiding them out of the graveyard albeit slowly. They were both supporting themselves on each other.

"But you mentioned something about getting my attire for my party with the Gregrasses? "

"Oh, how foolish of me, of course. If you would follow me, please," answered the Headmaster. They had already reached the spot where they had first apparated from the Burrow when Dumbledore looked towards the old and abandoned cottage in front of them. It seemed like nobody had lived there for at least 50 years.

Dumbledore flicked his wand at the lock and the wooden door opened in an instant.

"Sir, are we… breaking and entering?"

"No, Harry. This particular house belonged to my family once, "

"Oh."

"I lived here when I was a child," answered Dumbledore to the unspoken question as he guided Harry past a small sitting room and up the stairs of the cottage. The old headmaster gave no further explanation and, not wanting to ask imprudent questions, Harry maintained his mouth closed and allowed himself to be guided by his mentor.

Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, confirming Harry's suspicion that no one had lived in the house for more than a decade. The headmaster probably spent most of his life in Hogwarts, making it easy to understand why no one lived in his house but… it didn't explain the abandoned state of it.

Once on the second floor, Dumbledore asked Harry to wait near the stairs as the old man made his way towards one of three closed doors.

Harry had never even imagined it, but Dumbledore had been a child once. The old, grandfatherly figure had once been a kid with dreams and hopes and ideals. Had he had brothers? Sisters? Whatever happened to the professor's family? Perhaps one day he would ask him. Perhaps the old Headmaster would answer his questions.

"And here it is. "

Dumbledore's words brought Harry back to Earth. The professor was carrying a white carton box, akin to those Harry had seen Aunt Petunia use to store summer dresses. The headmaster gave the package to Harry and assured him that while he had been more robust when younger, the robes would fit him perfectly.

"You're… you're giving me one of your old dress robes?"

"Oh, Harry, I assure you. I had similar tastes to yours when I was young. It wasn't until I reached old age that I came to appreciate wizard fashion as I do now," said Dumbledore with a wink.

It didn't take long for the two of them to reach the designated apparition spot and, in an instant, they were both right outside the Burrow's entrance. Harry was getting used to the feeling of being pressed hard in all directions and having his eardrums being pushed into his skull but it still felt awful.

They had already said their goodbyes but before the Headmaster disappeared once more, Harry had to ask. What had been the purpose of visiting Godric Gryffindor's memories?

"I wanted you to see that it doesn't matter how far gone someone is. There is always an opportunity for them to see the error of their ways. For them to atone. People are complicated beings, Harry, and they can always change. In the coming days, this lessons may be one of the most important things I could ever impart on you. "