Short-term cohabitation
Before Harry could say another word, a loud sob came from the side, "Oh James, I... I'm out too—"
Queenie couldn't help but laugh out loud, though it wasn't very noticeable under Sirius's voice. She patted Sirius's shoulder affectionately to comfort him, finding their brotherly bond truly touching.
Harry, "..." In short, it's hard to maintain a warm atmosphere.
He focused his attention on the words on the tombstone—
"The last enemy to be eliminated is death."
Harry didn't quite understand the meaning of the sentence. It might mean that people shouldn't be afraid of death, or it might mean that his parents' love for him overcame Voldemort's Death Curse.
Harry reached out and brushed the dust off the tombstone. Strangely, he had imagined countless times how wonderful it would be if his parents were here, but now that he was actually standing here, he didn't know what to say. Perhaps it was because he had already said all the things he wanted to say to his parents to their photos, and neither the photos nor they, six feet below him, could give him any response.
At least James and Lily in the photos are still smiling at him, while the tombstone only has an empty sentence, which may not even have been left by them.
However, they lingered in the cemetery for a long time because Sirius had so much to say to his good brother. Before leaving, he fiercely vowed to catch that damned Peter again and make him pay.
This brought back memories for Harry: the Screaming Shack, the Whomping Willow, Lupin, and... Snape.
He still remembered the shock he felt when he first saw that experience in Snape's memories, even questioning his parents' love. Looking back now, even if James and Sirius were scoundrels, they changed for the better—he firmly believed that if James hadn't changed, Lily would never have fallen in love with him—while Snape, from their first year, had been utterly awful to himself—and not just himself. It was hard to say that his good father and godfather weren't partly to blame. If an adult Snape, as a professor, was such a harsh person, Harry didn't think he could have been any better when he was young. In short, he meant that both sides were at fault, and what was there for him, an innocent victim, to agonize over?
Having figured this out, Harry abandoned his original plan to learn about the Marauders' past.
Next stop: the Potters.
The black dog led the way, and they walked along the main road toward the edge of the village. The houses on both sides gradually thinned out, replaced by endless grass and trees of varying shades in the distance. The narrow street visually opened up, and suddenly Harry stopped. He saw the ruins at the end of the road, on a small hillside.
Sirius saw it too, and he rushed out. The fierce barking was filtered through the endless green grass, making it sound less shrill.
Harry and Queenie quickened their pace and finally saw the house in its entirety.
Most of the house is intact, with ivy climbing the walls and a few bird nests interspersed among them. The right side of the top floor looks like it has been hit by an explosion, with exposed walls and piles of rubble on the ground.
Harry thought, “I used to live there. It was the best room in the whole house, facing south, warm, bright, a hundred times better than my aunt’s storage room.”
Sirius transformed back into human form and circled a large area on the side of the house. "This is Harry. I bought you a children's broom for your first birthday! Oh, that really upset Lily. She scolded me for letting you play with such a dangerous thing, even though you couldn't walk yet back then."
It turned out that his first flight lesson wasn't his first time riding a broomstick. Harry thought about the scene after Sirius mentioned it and couldn't help but laugh.
"A broom?" Queenie asked curiously, "A flying broom?"
“Yes, maybe Harry can take you next time,” Sirius enthusiastically recommended. “Harry flies amazingly; he flew four hours from Hogwarts to London for your birthday!”
Harry, "..."
Oh? Queenie raised an eyebrow at Harry; she hadn't heard this part before.
"Ahem—" Harry turned his head, seemingly a little embarrassed, "I'll tell you when we get back."
Queenie set aside that for the moment and waded into the path Sirius had cleared through the tangled nettles and weeds. Soft blades of grass brushed against her calves. She reached out to push the gate, but it wouldn't budge. Harry saw this and grabbed the doorknob. A wooden sign emerged from the grass, likely another spell that only a wizard could trigger.
The wooden sign details the history of the house, celebrates the Potter family, and includes many other inscriptions, some old and some new.
Queenie leaned closer to see clearly. "Good luck, Harry, wherever you are... When you read this, Harry, we're all behind you... Long live Harry Potter... You have so many supporters, Mr. Savior?"
Sirius was quite displeased. "These wizards... how could they write such things!" He pulled out his wand and brandished it a few times. "They even used a spell to make them last?"
Harry stopped Sirius from continuing to try to erase the writing. "Never mind, Sirius, I think it's fine as it is."
They opened the gate and went inside, walking around the house—it was too dilapidated and unsafe inside—Sirius could recount many amusing stories from the past at each place he saw, so many happy memories that Dementors couldn't take away, death couldn't take away, and time couldn't take away. Through those words, Harry indirectly understood how much his parents loved him, which also deepened his hatred for Voldemort—he could have lived such a happy life.
When they circled back around the gate, an unexpected person was standing there, tall and thin, with silver hair and an incongruous dark purple robe.
Harry and Sirius both stopped. Queenie thought it was a bad guy and instinctively hugged Harry's arm tightly.
“Sirius,” the old man greeted warmly. “Oh Harry, it’s a pleasure to see how you’ve grown up, as handsome as I imagined.” He then turned to Queenie and winked playfully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, beautiful lady.”
They followed Dumbledore into a house, who was clearly the owner. With a mere wave of his hand, a teapot and plates of desserts flew out of the kitchen.
Queenie spotted the familiar candy, "Sizzling Bee Candy!"
"Oh, you like it too? Hmm—"
“Queenie, sir, Queenie Campbell.”
"Miss Campbell."
Harry couldn't help but ask, "Professor Dumbledore, do you also live in Godric's Hollow? Is Kendra Dumbledore a member of your family?"
“It seems you’ve been to the cemetery.” Dumbledore said calmly. “Kandela is my mother, Ariana is my sister, and we used to live in this house.”
Sister? Queenie remembered Ariana's birth date, so Dumbledore was over a hundred years old? He didn't look it at all; he was more energetic than any seventy-year-old she had ever seen.
Harry wanted to ask something more, but he didn't. Sirius, however, went straight to the point, "And your sister?"
“Well, an accident,” Dumbledore said lightly. “More than that, Harry, I can see you really like Godric’s Hollow, but I’m afraid you’ll have to go back to the Dursleys for a while.”
"Why?" Harry frowned in resistance, and Sirius was also puzzled. He didn't want Harry to go back to his annoying aunt's house at all.
“Because of blood magic,” Dumbledore explained gently. “Lily sacrificed herself to save you, and this protection is in your blood. As long as you still consider the place where your mother’s blood relatives live as your home, Voldemort cannot touch you.”
Just like Quirrell when he was in first grade and was possessed by Voldemort, his body burned and festered when Voldemort touched him?
Sirius unconditionally stood by his godson, saying, "It's fine for Harry to live with us; Voldemort has no chance to touch him!"
“But you can’t be with him all the time.” Dumbledore’s deep blue eyes, as all-encompassing as the sky, said, “Tell me, Harry, do you no longer consider the Dursleys your home?”
Harry couldn't say yes.
He could say out loud that he would rather live with Syris Queenie or even the Weasleys, but the Dursleys… he lived there for fifteen years, and although his aunt didn’t provide him with a comfortable life, she certainly ensured his survival; she wasn’t a purely bad person.
Dumbledore understood his answer, and his expression seemed somewhat relieved. "Two weeks will do."
Queenie, who had been eating candy and drinking tea, tilted her head. Ah... it's only been two days, and the cohabitation is already over?
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