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A black-haired man with vivid green eyes stood in the snowy streets of Godric’s Hollow, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He was, to put it simply, immersed deeply in his own thoughts The man was startled out of his reverie as a sharp cry of “Harry!” rang out in the crisp winter air. Harry Potter whirled around, afraid something might’ve happened.


“Ginny, what’s wrong?” Harry replied, striding over to a red-haired woman – Ginny Potter. “What it it?” he said again, slightly more impatiently.


Ginny chuckled. “Nothing is wrong, Harry. I just wanted you to let you know that Teddy, James, Albus, and Lily are all currently on their way to Hogwarts.” Harry sighed in relief. “I really do hope Lily gets Gryffindor…but you know, she is very bright, I really won’t be surprised if the hat puts her in Ravenclaw! She added with a satisfied grin. Harry nodded in agreement.


He took a deep breath and began apprehensively, “Ginny, I would really appreciate it if…if…if…if…” He trailed off.


“If what?” laughed Ginny. “Go on!”


“Ginny, I want to visit my parents’ house.” Harry finished, just barely managing to get the words past the knot in his throat. Harry realized with a jolt that it had begun to snow.


“What?” said Ginny, obviously taken aback. Harry felt disappointment gnaw at his insides. He frowned.


“You don’t have to go with me!” he retorted. Harry swallowed, then continued, “But I want to see if there’s anything worth my time there…I want to try to get to know my parents better, even if anything that could help me with that task is in ruins.”


Ginny shook her head vigorously, and Harry immediately regretted telling her – until he heard what she had to say. “That’s not at all what I meant, Harry…You simply caught me by surprise. If you’re going into your parents’ house, I’m coming with you for sure.” Again, Harry sighed with great relief, hugging Ginny contently.


“Good, because…I’m just not sure if I’m ready to go alone. I never really knew them, but I miss them all the same.” Harry blinked away the extra moisture in his eyes, feeling like he was being a bit of a corny git. “How about we do it now We’ll get away from the cold and get it over with.” he suggested.


“That sounds perfect to me. How long will we be in there, Harry?” Ginny asked, glancing anxiously at the partly-destroyed house. Her soft brown eyes were glistening with tears, but tears of happiness of sadness or just plain emotional tears Harry couldn’t guess. Harry shrugged.


A gust of icy wind buffeted Harry and Ginny with a powerful whooshing sound. Harry embraced Ginny in another hug, this time more tightly and responded, “A few hours at most is probably my limit. I only want to have a good look around the place.” Ginny nodded, and taking the initiative, she ducked out of Harry’s arms and headed for James’s and Lily’s house. Harry smiled and followed her proudly, thinking about how much he loved Ginny.


Harry gazed at a sign which acknowledged the events that had happened nearly 38 years ago. When he had been just one year old, Voldemort had gone there to that exact same house in person, killed Lily and James, and attempted to kill Harry…but the curse had backfired, giving Harry his lightning-shaped scar and bringing Voldemort to his downfall. But Voldemort was vanquished once and for all by Harry sixteen years later, and only then had the wizarding world grown truly peaceful. On the sign, people had clumsily scrawled encouragement to Harry. Ginny had already gotten to the door and had gently pushed it open. The old and rotting wood creaked loudly as it scraped against the dusty floors almost reluctantly. Ginny held the door open for Harry and as he entered he muttered a quick “thank you” to his wife.


Almost at once, tears came to the corners of Harry’s eyes threateningly. It felt very strange to be in the house where his parents had died for him, where he had earned the scar which had troubled him so much for so many years…but that was all in the past, now, and Harry convinced himself he mustn’t think about it much. Shaking the thought away, Harry glanced around. He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped, but soon recognized the hand as Ginny’s. Harry looked back at Ginny, and the two exchanged nods before beginning up the rickety stairs. The house was dusty and deathly silent, except for the occasional creaking of the house or the shutters with rusty and stiff hinges banging against the sides of the house. A lot of the wood was rotting by now, but it was only to be expected after so many years. The first part of the second floor Harry caught sight of was the part of the house in ruins – the part of the house where his mother had died to save him. The quote on his parents’ graves suddenly came to mind: “The enemy that shall be destroyed is death.”


“Oh, Harry…” Ginny said softly, stepping forward so that she was standing next to Harry. He shook his head, took Ginny’s hand, and went to find his parents’ bedroom. It wasn’t concealed, they actually quite stumbled upon it on accident. With Ginny behind him, Harry ventured inside, trying to absorb all her could without blurring it to his liking. An object glittering green caught Harry’s eye, and Ginny seemed to have noticed it too. Sitting upon a night table beside a weak-looking bed was a jagged stone, or rather a crystal, that was just as green as Harry’s eyes. Harry picked it up, curious as to what it was and why it was there. Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry, staring at the stone in awe. They both gazed down at it, expecting to see their own reflections, but much to their surprise they saw the warm, smiling faces or James and Lily Potter looking out at them. This time, Harry did not hold back the tears, and one or two fell onto the emerald stone. Abruptly, Harry and Ginny were pulled into a swirling vortex of fuzzy images. Ginny gasped, and Harry was still grasping the stone tightly.


They landed on their feet in a very familiar place, bustling with people saying good-bye to their children, who were boarding a maroon train. Harry glanced around apprehensively, then exclaimed in utter disbelief, “Wait a minute! This is platform nine and three-quarters!”

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