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Chapter 725: The Old Historian
Snow continued to fall quietly over Godric's Hollow.
Harry and Hermione remained hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak in the village square.
Phineas's portrait had already fallen silent again.
The old Headmaster had clearly returned to Hogwarts to pass the message.
Now all they could do was wait.
Hermione looked around nervously.
"We shouldn't stay in one place for too long," she whispered.
"If Death Eaters arrive—"
"They won't," Harry said, though he wasn't entirely sure.
If Darren received the message, then perhaps he would come.
And if Darren came, everything would change.
Harry stared across the square.
The quiet village felt strangely peaceful.
Lights glowed warmly in the windows of nearby houses.
Christmas decorations hung from several doors.
It was so ordinary.
So normal.
Harry had never imagined his parents had once lived in a place like this.
He walked slowly
Hermione followed.
For a while neither of them spoke.
Finally Hermione said softly,
"This place must have been important to Darren too."
Harry looked puzzled.
Hermione explained quietly,
"He said once that he wanted to see where you grew up.
Where your parents lived.
Maybe he thought… if he understood your past better, he could understand you better too."
Harry felt a strange warmth in his chest.
Darren always seemed to think about things like that.
About other people.
About protecting them.
Hermione suddenly tugged his sleeve again.
"Look."
Across the square stood a tall statue.
It showed a wizard holding a child while a witch stood beside him.
Harry stared at it.
But as they moved closer, the statue changed.
The smiling family disappeared.
In its place appeared the broken figures of James and Lily Potter, shielding a baby.
Harry froze.
He felt his throat tighten.
Hermione said nothing.
She simply stood beside him.
Snow gathered silently on the statue.
Finally Harry whispered,
"They died here."
Hermione nodded.
"For you."
Harry looked down.
He had heard those words his entire life.
But standing here made it feel different.
Real.
Then Hermione suddenly stiffened.
"Someone's coming."
Harry immediately pulled the Invisibility Cloak tighter around them.
An elderly woman shuffled slowly down the road.
Her back was bent.
Her gray hair hung loosely around her shoulders.
She walked unsteadily, leaning on the gate beside the square.
Harry frowned.
"Who is that?"
Hermione whispered,
"I think that's Bathilda Bagshot."
Harry's eyes widened.
"The historian?"
Hermione nodded.
"She wrote A History of Magic.
Dumbledore knew her.
She lived here for years."
Harry watched the old woman carefully.
Bathilda seemed to be staring directly at them.
Which was impossible.
They were invisible.
Then something strange happened.
Bathilda slowly raised her hand.
And beckoned.
Hermione's eyes widened.
"She can't see us…
Right?"
Harry wasn't sure.
But Bathilda kept gesturing.
As if she knew they were there.
"Maybe she recognizes us somehow," Harry whispered.
Hermione looked uneasy.
"Or maybe she's being controlled."
Harry hesitated.
If Bathilda truly knew something about Dumbledore…
Or about Darren's plan…
Then ignoring her might mean losing their only clue.
Bathilda began shuffling slowly away.
Toward the narrow road behind the church.
Harry watched her go.
Then he whispered,
"Let's follow her."
Hermione looked worried.
"This could be a trap."
Harry nodded.
"Maybe.
But Darren led us here for a reason."
Hermione hesitated only a moment.
Then she tightened her grip on her wand.
"Alright.
But we stay invisible."
They followed Bathilda quietly through the falling snow.