Memories of Lost Home (Harry Potter)

Prompt 2: 

Prompt Skeleton:

A character loses their loved one (s) and the present festive season reminds them of the one(s) they have lost and they think of the last festival/celebration they had together

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A big thank you to tournesol for beta reading and the title.

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Memories of Lost Home

Harry was packing after a long day of writing reports. His mind drifted to the Christmas celebrations he had missed as Davies sang the christmas carol "Merry Hippogriffs" on top of his lung somewhere in the Auror department. That’s when a paper plane flew into his cubicle and fell on Harry’s desk. He read through the note. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, asking for his presence at the earliest in his office. Harry couldn’t help but groan. He wanted to return home as soon as possible, as he had already missed Albus’s first Christmas. A pang of guilt refused to disappear from the pit of his stomach. There was something else too on his mind that he did not want to focus on yet.

“Evening, Mr. Potter,” Kingsley greeted Harry. After Kingsley had become minister, he had become more formal in his way of addressing him, Hermione and Ron, but the formality never felt out of place, showing how well Kingsley carried himself as the Minister of Magic. Kingsley still joined the Weasleys and the remaining Order of the Phoenix members for Sunday lunches whenever he could. 

“Evening, Minister. I received your note about the meeting. Is everything alright?” Harry asked, and Kingsley nodded in a no.

“A few hours ago, someone broke into the Department of Mysteries, to be precise, the Time Room. We couldn’t catch the perp because there was no one there when he broke in. But I was hoping you would go there to see if you find anything.” Harry blinked as he thought about the time he had gone to the Department of Mysteries eleven years ago.Kingsley continued, “The Unspeakable, who did a primary search, told me that there was nothing wrong , but given how Voldemort had used the Unspeakables to malign the Muggleborns during the war, I wanted to be sure. Dawson, the Head Unspeakable, agreed to allow you in the Department because you had been there. Of course, if something major had happened there that would needed the attention of the Aurors, you and Ron will be assigned to the case,” Kingsley explained and looked at Harry, waiting for a response. He hoped Harry was okay with going into the Department of Mysteries after what had happened there before the war.

There isn’t any ‘in there,’ it’s just an archway, there’s no room for anybody to be there — Harry, stop it, come away —

“I’ll take a quick look, sir. Don’t worry about it,” Harry said after brushing away the memories of Hermoine yelling at him all those years ago. Despite all his complaints, Harry would never deny a new potential case. His face did not betray his tumultuous emotions. The two said their goodbyes, and Harry left the office.

Dawson took Harry to the Time Room. Harry gulped and thought of Ron, who was home, safe, and celebrating Christmas with Hermione, Rose, and the Weasleys. The scars that Ron had got in the Brain Room were still there. They were one of the many constant reminders of what they had gone through as teenagers. They were a reminder of what they had lost. He thought of Sirius and his death because of the Veil.

“Are you ok, Mr. Potter?” Dawson asked, and Harry nodded.

But he wasn’t. He was thinking about the unfortunate night when Sirius left him forever; how he had waited for Sirius to reemerge from the archway of the Veil. He still longed to see his parents and his godfather like when he had found the Mirror of Erised during his first year's Christmas holidays, and he had spent hours looking at the image of his whole family in the mirror. 

"Mr. Potter?" Dawson called out, and Harry shook his head. He had a case to solve.

Harry glanced at the fireplace that was in the corner and sighed. He pulled out his wand and muttered a tracking spell that Newt Scamander had taught him when he had visited him two summers ago to speak of his experience during the Great Wizarding War. 

"Appare Vestigium,"

Unlike the usual golden swirl, the fireplace burst into green flames. 

"Blimey!" Harry swore in horror. 

Footprints emerged on the ground leading to the fireplace. He bent down to touch them, and a golden swirl formed, just like how the spell was supposed to work. He saw a young Unspeakable, Royce, who had cast a few spells and then had walked into the fireplace. Harry couldn't understand what had happened, so he looked at Dawson, who looked angry. 

"He was trying to work on the Appare Vestigium spell. We had forbidden him, but he seemed to somehow work on the spell that would make it possible to make an impromptu Pensieve,"

"Damn!" Harry muttered. 

"But as we can see, the spell has gone wrong. Well, thank you for your help, Auror. That should be all. I can take it from here. The Auror department need not worry about this, as this now concerns the Unspeakables of the Time Room." Dawson said, but his words fell on deaf ears. The green fire was so bright that Harry was focused on it. 

From the fireplace, Harry heard a voice similar to Lily's.

"Wait, gentleman, no!" Dawson said, but it was too late. Harry stepped into the fire, seemingly entranced by it. Dawson rubbed his forehead, a headache making his way through his brain. 

Harry looked at the Godric’s Hollow board, covered in snow.

Why was he there? He walked to his old house, hoping to see its broken fragments that the Wizarding World had left untouched, even after almost twenty-seven years, to honour his parents, Lily and James Potter. But instead of the shambles of the house, there stood a perfectly fine building decorated for Christmas. The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted towards him from inside. Bells chimed softly, and someone was playing the piano.And then he heard his mother’s laugh. Soft, smooth, and beautiful, like the wind carrying it to him.

Harry gasped in shock and walked through the gate. Maybe because his younger self lived in the house, the Fidelius Charm wasn’t working on him. He peeped into one of the windows to see James sprawled on the floor of the living room, near the Christmas Tree, and a baby Harry was lying on his stomach. He felt tight in the chest as he watched his father and him. The smell of the cookies made him yearn for home. Realizing that he wasn’t carrying his invisibility cloak, he walked out of the gate. But what if he was invisible there as well, just like in a Pensieve? 

He walked back and peeped in. Lily was now feeding baby Harry while James entertained the two. There was a small makeshift piano playing Christmas jingles on its own. Baby Harry tugged at Lily’s hair, and she laughed, not at all bothered about it. James took him in his arms, walked the length of the living room and helped Harry to burp. He then handed him back to his mother and took the form of Prongs, his Animagus form. Baby Harry was pleased beyond limits and giggled in delight. Lily kissed his cheek. When James turned into a human again, she kissed his lips. The blissful family moments tugged at Harry’s heartstrings, his eyes glistened with tears. 

James offered his hand out to his wife for a dance. Lily rested little Harry on her hip, and James wrapped his arms around the two as they moved to the soft music.

A sob escaped Harry. He couldn’t watch any further. With his face wet with tears, he dashed out of there and ran until he was out of breath. When he finally stopped, he was outside Godric’s Hollow. He saw a tunnel leading to the Time Room and heard Kingsley’s voice on the other side. 

Harry tumbled into the Time Room and winced in pain. He looked at Kingsley, who was looking at him with pain in his eyes. Kingsley saw in Harry the same agonized boy he had seen when they had lost Sirius Black.

“Are you ok, Harry?” he asked.

“Yeah, umm, I am good.”

Harry removed his glasses and wiped his tears. 

“Royce came out of the fireplace as soon as you walked in. When Dawson told me what had happened, we tried to recreate the spell but we couldn’t, and then, you came out of the fireplace.” Kingsley paused, watching Harry. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked Harry to investigate over here. “Ron is in the Atrium. He has come in to check on you. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. But I should go,” Harry said and rushed out of the Time Room. After struggling with the rotating doors, he was finally in the Atrium. Ron ran to Harry and hugged him. 

Harry felt something break inside him. He started sobbing. Ron held him as he fell to the ground and cried. Although he did not know exactly what had happened, he could somehow feel his best mate’s pain. 

“You are ok, buddy. You are with us,” Ron said and helped him stand. 

They went back home to Grimmauld Place. Ron didn’t ask him anything as Harry held Albus close to him, watching him nibble on the teething biscuit. He didn’t ask as he taught James to ride a small broomstick or as the two best friends put their three children to sleep.

But when they were sitting on the lawn, Firewhiskeys in their hands, and their wives cuddled to their sides, Harry told them everything he had seen. 

“The spell worked, Harry, just that Royce messed up because of the fireplace. Perhaps, he was carrying some Floo Powder that got triggered, and that was a Pensieve, except it wasn’t.” Ron explained, and Harry nodded. 

“It doesn’t matter. I got to see my parents again. And I guess that’s what matters. Doesn’t it?” he asked, and Ginny nodded and kissed his jaw. Hermione held his hand.

The four watched as it snowed. They will be okay. They were moving on.