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

Y/n eyes him knowingly, "Harry, did you ever even open A History of Magic?" she said teasingly

"Tossed it at Neville once when he was snoring -- might've popped open." Harry said. Hermione had already went in.

Y/n smiles, then rises, collecting her books and blanket.

"Y/n..."

Words fail him. Y/n reaches out, lightly strokes his hair as she heads toward the tent.

"Don't ever let me give you a haircut again." She said.

~~~

Golden streetlights glimmer along a narrow road leading to the center of town. Christmas decorations twinkle in the windows of small cottages, roofs blanketed in snow. Y/n, Hermione and Harry apparate into view, wearing heavy coats and hats, scarves wrapped around their mouths.

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

"No. This is where I was born. I'm not returning as someone else." Harry declared

He holds out both of his arms and Y/n and Hermione take it. They move off.

Y/n , Harry and Hermione walk, arms linked. A PUB DOOR opens briefly and LAUGHTER and MUSIC spill forth.

"Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve! Listen..." Y/n said. Her voice is wistful. As they listen, VOICES carry from the church up ahead. Harry eyes the graveyard beyond.

"Do you think they'd be in there? My mum and dad?" Harry asked hopeful

"Yeah. I think they would." You answer him

The SINGING is FULL AND RICH here as Y/n, Harry and Hermione make their way through the snow toward the graveyard. Harry peers up at the STAINED GLASS windows glittering over him.

Harry pushes through a gate, then lets go of Hermione's hand, row upon row of snowy tombstones stretch before him. As he heads off, Hermione studies him, then follows.

Hermione pauses by a large tombstone freckled with lichen.

"Harry. Y/n" she whispered

"Is it -- ?" Harry asked.

"No. But look." She said

Harry steps over, looks: KENDRA DUMBLEDORE AND HER DAUGHTER ARIANA. A quotation is etched in the granite:

"Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

"Did you know he had a sister?" Y/n asked Harry. Harry stares at the stone, his face a mask.

"No." Harry turns away, walks off.

Hermione walks amid the stones, studying the names, then stops by an extremely old grave. She crouches.

"Lumos."

Hermione plays the wand's light over the surface of the stone, then stops. Though deeply worn by time, the symbol is unmistakable: the TRIANGULAR EYE. Hermione rakes the light over the name: IGNOTUS PEVERELL.

Ignotus... Hey, Y/ --

She stops. Harry and Y/n stand several rows away. Utterly still.

As he stares at the tombstones of his parents:

JAMES POTTER

Born 27 March 1960

Died 31 October 1981

LILY POTTER

Born 30 January 1960

Died 31 October 1981

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

Hermione appears, looks at Harry and Y/n, her head rested on his shoulder. Sees that tears are streaming down both of their cheeks. Hermione raises her wand, traces a circle in the air and a wreath of christmas roses blossom in the snow. Harry nods, staring at them.

"Happy Christmas, Y/n and Hermione."

"Happy Christmas, Harry." Both of the girls answer in unison.

Hermione laces her arm around Y/n's waist and she drapes hers arm over her shoulder. They stand silently.

"Harry..." Y/n said

"Yeah." He answered

"Someone's watching us. By the gate."

Harry nods, careful not to look too soon, then glances up. A stooped figure, barely discernible in the drifting snow, stands in the shadows of the church. She -- it is

distinctly female, and older -- doesn't move initially -- as if wanting Harry to see her -- then turns away.

"C'mon." Harry said pulling both of them behind him.

All light has left the sky. The stooped figure hobbles along, past the pub, where shadows play against the windows and muffled voices can be heard. Y/n, Harry and

Hermione follow.

Hermione eyes the woman ahead, then looks about their surroundings, feeling trapped.

"I don't think this is a good idea." Hermione said unsure.

"We look like ordinary Muggles." Y/n said

"

"Muggles who've just been laying flowers on Harry's parents' grave."

Just then, up ahead, the stooped woman holds up her hand and Y/n, Hermione and Harry stop. Seconds later, a group of snatchers passes by the alley. As they vanish, the woman continues on.

"Relax. This is right. I know it." Harry said

The woman hobbles on. The lane is lined with modest cottages with small and tidy gardens. Hermione barely gives them a glance, nervously eyeing the woman ahead,before realizing she is walking alone.

She turns, sees Harry and Y/n standing several yards back, staring at a dark cottage, its garden overgrown with weeds, its roof entirely covered in ivy and snow.

Hermione returns to him, looks.Gasps.

"Omigod. Harry..." she said

"This is where they died, Hermione. This is where he murdered them." Harry said through gritted teeth

Y/n studies Harry's bitter profile, then the house, careful not to disturb the moment with words. Absently, Harry places his fingers upon the locket at his chest. It is trembling -- over-so-slightly. Then, without turning, while still staring at the house, Harry speaks:

"You're Bathilda, aren't you?"

Hermione blinks, confused, then turns and jumps. The old woman is standing only yards away, watching them.

The door rattles open and tiny Bathilda Bagshot hobbles inside, followed first by Y/n and Harry, then Hermione, who wrinkles her nose. As Bathilda exits the room, Hermione

glances about.

"Guys, I'm not sure about this."

"Hermione, she knew Dumbledore. 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." Y/n said

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

"She's gaga, remember?" Y/n told Hermione

Bathilda returns, holding a box of matches. She strikes one, tries to light a candle, but her movements are clumsy.

"Here. Let me do that." You offer, lighting the candle

"You have a lovely house, Miss Bagshot." Hermione complemented

Hermione eyes a photograph of a curiously compelling young girl (ARIANA), then runs a finger along a table. It comes away thick with dust. She frowns, looks up, finds Bathilda watching her.

"Miss Bagshot? Who is this man?" Harry stands by a chest of drawers, holding the match over a grouping of PHOTOGRAPHS. Coated in DUST, the figures in the frames flit like ghosts behind veils. Harry picks one up, wipes away the dust with his hand.

In it a merry-faced boy looks out, his cheery expression belying a particularly intense gaze.

"His name. Can you tell me his name?" Bathilda stares at the photograph solemnly, then peers up at Harry. Her eyes are THICK with CATARACTS. Harry stares, unnerved, then Y/n walks over, looks at the picture.

"This is him, Y/n. The one I saw in Gregorovitch's wandshop. The thief. Miss Bagshot, who is he?"

She looks at him, then jerks her head toward the stairs.

She wants us to go upstairs.

"All right..." Hermione said. As Hermione moves, Bathilda shakes her head, points at Harry.

"She wants me to go. Alone."

"Why?" Y/n asked

"It's all right. You stay here." He reassured the girl

"Harry..." Y/n whispers again

Harry holds up his hand, silencing her, then follows Bathilda. Just before he disappears, he looks back and winks, but Y/n doesn't look reassured.

Harry trails Bathilda up a circular staircase, uncomfortably narrow and lined with books.

"The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. A hand reaches in, takes it. Y/N's hand. A NOTE is attached:

"Dear Batty. Thanks for your help. You said everything... even if you don't remember. Rita."

Harry enters a dark low-ceilinged room. He wrinkles his nose at the smell, then hears the door close behind him. The room plunges into darkness.

"Lumos."

Harry sweeps the room, gives a start. Bathilda's face wavers in the dark, only feet away, staring at him.

Hermione hugs herself as she exits the sitting room and peers into the adjacent hallway. A sliver of the kitchen can be seen and a faint buzzing heard. A strange shadow dances on one kitchen wall, of SPECKS moving. Hermione

Harry watches as Bathilda moves closer, transfixed by her milky eyes. The Horcrux on his chest twitches

Bathilda in parseltongue, "You are Potter?"

"Yes." Harry answered in parseltongue

As Y/n and Hermione near the kitchen, they eye the cloud of specks swarming the wall curiously. The buzzing grows to a hiss as the room... Comes into view. Hermione Gasps. Y/n's mouth hangs open

Clotted blood streaks the sink and great wide swaths of red stain the floor where hundreds of flies swarm.

"I have something for you..." a voice speaks in Parseltongue

Y/n's gaze rises, to the ceiling, to the heating vent, from which the hissing voice has just come.

--

Harry's arm droops, his wand tip painting the room with dots of light as he sways, wincing as his scar stings. Bathilda points, to a dressing table cluttered with soiled laundry, her milky eyes fixed on Harry. Something surfaces in her filmy corneas, her pupils changing from dots to silts.

Hermione and Y/n, wands drawn, ascends the stairs.

Harry peers at the foul laundry, moving closer, when, out of the corner of his eye, Bathilda moves weirdly. He wheels and watches in horror as... Bathilda's old body collapses and Nagini pours from her neck. As Harry raises his wand, Nagini strikes, piercing his forearm. His wand flies out of his hand, its light spinning dizzily around the room. Nagini's tail swings about, knocks Harry's legs out from under him.

"Harry!" Y/n shouted

As Harry rolls onto his back, gasping for breath, Nagini's massive body rolls over him, the Horcrux ticking feverishly against his chest. As Harry ROARS in pain,

the lenses of his GLASSES fracture. The bedroom door swings open, reveals Y/n and Hermione silhouetted against the stairwell, wand poised. A FLASH OF RED LIGHT ricochets around the room and Nagini's tail whips angrily about, shattering the bedroom window.

Hermione dives aside and pulls Y/n and Harry covers his face as the curtains burst into flames and shards of glass shower the room in a rush of cold air.

As Harry reclaims his wand and rises, Nagini's body uncoils in fury, splintering furniture and blasting holes into the walls.

"Confringo!" Y/n cast

As Y/n's spell caroms off the trembling walls, He leaps, sweeping her toward the smoldering window. As they pitch themselves into the night, the mirror EXPLODES and shards of glass, reflecting bits of Y/n, Hermione and Harry and the giant snake, tumble in the night, slowly vanishing into... nothingness.

Hermione sits reading a book by the fire. The hillside is glorious, overlooking a vast valley.

"You've outdone yourself this time." Hermione turns, finds Harry standing outside the tent, admiring the view. He looks pale, battle-worn.

"The Forest of Dean. I came here once with my mum and dad, years ago. It's just how I remember it. The trees. The river. It's like nothing's changed. Not true, of Course. Everything's changed. If I brought my parents here, they wouldn't recognize any of it. Not the trees. Not the river. Not... me."

At that moment Y/n who had stepped out, after hearing the conversation.

"Where are they?" Y/n asked. Hermione turns and smiles after seeing the (H/C) haired girl.

"Wendell and Monica Wilkens now reside happily in Sydney, Australia. They have two dogs, run a small sweet shop, but floss daily. No children." She smiles, then it fades. Y/n wraps her arms around Hermione's knowing how she must be feeling, though she never felt the same with her parents.

"Maybe we should just stay here, Harry. Grow old." Harry said mostly glancing at Y/n, who doesn't notice. Harry has no words. She inhales, shakes off her tears.

"You wanted to know who the boy in the photograph was. Well, I know".

Hermione holds up the book in her lap: The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.

"Y/n found it in Bathilda's sitting room. Rita Skeeter had sent it to her. Harry, it doesn't make for very nice reading –"

"Who is he, Hermione? The thief? Did Dumbledore know him?" Harry asked

"Yes."

"Well?" Y/n asked

"For a time." She said

"Tell me, Hermione. Who is he?" Harry demanded

"Gellert Grindelwald. He's not very well known in Britain, but there was a time, before You-Know- Who..."

"Hermione, I don't need to have read A History of Magic to know who Gellert Grindelwald is." Harry said

Hermione nods, hands him the book, open to a PHOTOGRAPH of a TEENAGED DUMBLEDORE laughing with another BOY(GELLERT GRINDELWALD). The caption: "For the Greater

Good? Dark Days; Dumbledore and Grindelwald." On the opposite page is a PHOTOGRAPH of Grindelwald in later days, clad in black, holding a JAGGED WAND -- no longer the carefree lad of youth.

"When Grindelwald was seventeen, he was expelled from Durmstrang. He'd started doing some twisted things at school -- experiments. A few teachers had always protected him, but they couldn't anymore. After he left, he traveled for awhile, then ended up in Godric's Hollow where his great aunt lived, Bathilda Bagshot." Hermione explained

"Get to the hard part, Hermione." Y/n said.

"She introduced him to Dumbledore. It made sense. Dumbledore's mother had just died, Grindelwald was troubled and they were both brilliant -- they'd never really had anyone they could talk to on the same level. They did a lot of talking that summer. But they always returned to one particular subject."

Y/n and Harry look up.

"Wizard rule over Muggles."

"And Dumbledore believed in it?" Y/n asked

"Yes." Hermione answered. Harry nods, looking at the photograph again.

" 'For the Greater Good.' What does that mean?" Harry asked

"It was something Dumbledore came up with. He believed wizards were superior and should rule over Muggles, but gently, for their own good. Grindelwald took a more violent position." Harry shakes his head, staring at the book.

"It was a different time, Harry. It was one summer. Dumbledore was young –" Y/n tried to explain

"We're young ,Y/n. And here we are, risking our lives to fight against the very thing Dumbledore supported." Harry said

"He changed, Harry. Years later, it was Dumbledore who put Grindelwald in prison." Y/n said

A/n- Yoo Guys! Two updates in one day