Godric’s Hollow

In the late evening in the shadows, as the sun had long begun to set, a once plump, dusty-haired man, whose face is much thinner with sad lukewarm eyes appeared on the edge of Godric's Hollow. Percius Clements made his way past the village cottages down a narrow road. Because of the hour, the muggle residents are having dinner and the others pay no attention to the stranger on foot.

The little lane curved to the left past the heart of the village revealing the village square. were several shops, a post office, and a pub, and at the far edge is a little church whose stained-glass windows glowed jewel-bright in the setting sun and cast an array of colors across the cobblestoned town square. There were a couple of villagers about, mostly entering or leaving the pub, where loud voices and laughter could easily be heard as the door opened and closed.

Percius briefly raised his gaze to the church before him, before pulling away to walk around the church. There was a kissing gate at the entrance of the graveyard that sat behind the small church. The kissing gate had been left slightly ajar. With a loud creak, he pushed inside, before closing the gate after him. He paused there to gaze at the desolate scene before him. Row upon row of gray tombstones protruded from the grassy earth.

Walking past the nearest graves, Percius is rather familiar with the route. Some of the tomb names are barely legible, while others are still understandable. All too soon he reaches a cluster of headstones belonging to the Vinovich Family. He came to a halt before the newest marble tombstone that glistened in the setting sun.

The carved words on the gray tombstone read, "Sara Messalina Vinovich, Born 1910 – Died 1973. A wonderful daughter and one of the bravest Aurors ever known. She will be sorely missed and nevermore forgotten."

Reaching into his waistcoat, Percius pulls out a shrunken bundle of blue flowers. Under his breath, he murmurs the reverse incantation. The blue gladioli swell and grow returning to their former size. Bending down, he reverently places the flowers on the grave of Sara.

There are drying bundles of various blue flowers strewn around the grave, no doubt from well-wishers, family, and friends. "Any flower will do as long as the color is right," she would often be heard saying. Blue flowers were Sara's favorite color of flowers.

Though none except Percius knew that gladioli were the flowers Sara wanted at her funeral. She often would often joke with him about it as she had a streak of dark humor. Though in her more somber moments, she had said, "They are strong and majestic just like I am. I would like to believe that if I were to die, it'd be in the line of duty all for a good cause." And how right she had very been.

Closing his eyes, Percius enjoys the silence as the warmth of the sun can barely be felt on his face as there is only a sliver of orange light hovering at the edge of the horizon. A crunch behind him causes him to startle, alert he instantly reached for his wand and whirled around to face the source of the sound.

"I'm sorry, it was not my intention to startle you," apologetically responded, a dark-haired woman with her leek hair pulled tightly into a bun.

A pair of square glasses sit on the bridge of her nose, there were traces of recent sorrow in her sharp eyes. The crow's feet under her eyes had deepened as a direct result. It is Professor Minerva McGonagall.

Percius eyes widen in recognition of the younger witch. "Professor McGonagall, it was no trouble at all. I was merely meditating, t'was my own fault," he plainly admitted.

Her black school teaching robes flutter slightly behind her as she takes a step closer to the grave. "I had been meaning to pay my respects for some time now, but time just seemed to slip away," Professor McGonagall confessed as she too pulled out a shrunken bundle of blue Hydrangeas.

Percius did not reply immediately as he waited and watched Minerva McGonagall lay the bouquet of flowers on Sara Vinovich's tombstone. Straightening up, Professor McGonagall is silent for a moment as she clasps her hands together before her. The graveyard is utterly silent, the only sound is a faint breeze fluttering flower petals and causing them to rustle against the graves.

Sensing Minerva McGonagall's grief-stricken state, "Who did you lose?" Percius quietly asked.

Professor McGonagall visibly flinches, before answering with a husky burr, "An old childhood, Dougal McGregor."

"Ah," Percius softly said in understanding. "I did not know him, but his bravery is to be commended. Not many fathers much less a muggle could face down a werewolf with only a muggle weapon in hand to save his son. His boy lived because of him."

Professor McGonagall's lips pressed together in pain as she adds, "But so was Auror Vinovich. She killed Fenrir Greyback and avenged Dougal's death. She died in the line of duty to protect his son."

"How is the boy?" Percius curiously asked as he recalled the small boy, whom he had carried away from the tragic scene that fateful night.

A sad smile crosses her face as Professor McGonagall replies, "My brothers tell me that his widow is moving back to live with her parents near London in order. She needs help caring for the children. Though I am told that despite having his memories obliviated the boy still claims he was saved from a monster by his father and a magical witch, who I have no doubt is Auror Vinovich."

"Well, in that case, I would not be surprised to see him at Hogwarts in a few years," Percius murmured with a soft chuckle.

"Child magic can be quite powerful at times when it manifests," Professor McGonagall confessed with a faint smile. "I'll admit that it pleases me to no end knowing that at least the boy will not forget his father's sacrifice nor of Auror Vinovich."

Percius lets a rough bark of laughter causing Professor McGonagall to join in. The two laughed for a moment to ease the pain before a sad expression overwhelms them. Glancing up, Professor McGonagall sees that it is dusk. The sun has vanished over the horizon.

"I best be heading back to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, "There are plenty of students who get into all sorts of trouble on the weekends."

"Ah yes, Head of Gryffindor, is it?" Percius gently teased.

"And what is that supposed to mean Auror Clements?" Professor McGonagall arched her brow at the Auror.

"I was a Ravenclaw, Professor," Percius smugly retorted. "I wouldn't know anything about that sort of thing."

Professor McGonagall snorts through her nose. "Pesky know it alls." Percius flashes her a smug smile, shaking her head Professor McGonagall mutters something about bird brains as she turns away to leave.

Percius watches her vanish through the graveyard as he turns back to the grave before him. "I'll be back before you know it, Sara," Percius promised before he too made his way out of the cemetery. A deep silence fell upon the cemetery as it remained as grave and still as before. And as it should be for the dead preferred the silence to rest therein.