It had been a hundred and fifty years since that incident at the Forest of Dean.
They had heard the story from their grandfather, who had heard it from their father….
The two of them had camped here when they were looking for the Horcruxes, in that last battle to destroy He-who-must-not-be-named.
This was where their great-great-grandfather had found the two things he needed the most at the time – the Sword of Gryffindor, and his best friend.
This was where he and his friends had destroyed the first of the Horcruxes they had found.
They had so wanted visit the place. After all, it was a historical landmark.
Only…
It was now a part of history….
For the Forest of Dean was no more.
The snow that lay on the trees all around now lay on asphalted roads that stretched in every direction.
The sheltered clearing where Harry and Hermione had camped, was now an empty plot sandwiched between a pub on one side and an office complex on the other. Of course, the Muggles did not know why the plot was empty. But people from the wizarding world could see the sign at the gate that read, “This is where Harry Potter camped when hiding in the Forest of Dean”.
The small, frozen pool where he had found the sword and destroyed the Horcrux was now a picnic spot, a place where couples would take an evening stroll, walking hand in hand along its edges; where parents brought children to play in one of the parks that dotted the lake outlines.
The Forest of Dean … was now a concrete jungle.
Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional and is based on incidents in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
(Image credit: Tom C on Flickr used under a CC BY-SA 2.0 license)