Chapter 1 : Photo Album
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Something caught his eye, lying on the floor. A book, he wanted to see. Why was this here if nothing else? He picked it up and sat down. He opened the cover, a photo album. The pictures moved.
He slowly turned the pages, looking at the same faces, a woman with amber hair and emerald eyes and a man with untidy black hair and glasses covering hazel eyes. They were young, and happy. Some pictures showed them with a baby. Who were these young lovers? Who was their baby, with his hair and her eyes?
More pages were turned and more faces became familiar as well. There was a man and a woman both with long dark hair and soft grey eyes. Another man with chestnut hair and light brown eyes. All three were young. They all were happy. Who were they? Why was everyone so happy, laughing and waving? And why did these pictures move?
He turned more pages, until they changed. The baby was now old as his parents. His arms were around a fiery redhead with baby blue eyes. These pictures moved. These people were happy. They had three children, two girls and a boy. Another young couple with these two. A man with red hair and freckles and a woman whose hair was bushy and brown, her eyes the same shade. Two children were theirs, a boy and a girl. They were happy, too.
The man with chestnut hair was in these as well. He was older and grey flecked his hair. A woman with vivid pink hair was with him. They were happy. They had one child, a girl. The woman with dark hair was there. She was happy, but she was alone. Her happiness was nothing like before or the others. What had happened? Why weren’t the parents and the dark haired man there anymore?
He turned one more page. Not there, here. What happened to these happy people? It was night now. He closed the photo album and stood up. He carried it to look at home. A letter fell out. It was old. He was afraid to touch it. It looked too fragile. But he read it.
not by You-Know-Who or Death Eaters or a stray curse, but
a disease, a horrible sickness only our kind can get. He died
in the house his parents were killed in. I will leave. Everything
will come. Not the photo album. Too many memories are
locked forever in its pages. My husband would want it to stay
here, forever, to guard the home he was happy in.
Good-bye, my love, Harry James, I love you still.
Harry James Potter, who was he? He heard the name before, long ago, in a fairy tale. He couldn’t remember. He put the photo album down. It would guard the house, the Potter home.
He ran home. Great-grandma would know. He asked her. Tears came to her eyes. Did she really know him?
“What’s wrong, Grandma Hermione?”
A/N: Please review.
Godric's Hollow a.k.a. Chapter 2, was meant to be sequel.
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