A house in Godric's Hollow was quiet, it always was. Even people nearby would stop their chatter just as they reached the white pickett fence around the property. During the day, passing people would walk by the place and their reactions were always the same. The people who knew the history of the house would bow their heads in rememberance while the children, if there was any, would cling onto their mother's dress in fright from the sudden gloom and quietness. Even though there was such sorrow when it came to the small cottage, the appearance didn't suggest as such.
The cottage was small, two stories high but yet rather small compaired to the cottages on either side of it. It was painted a brilliant white that suggested that the house was new, along with the fence. There was one lone tree in the front yard, right next to the small round stepping stones leading to the front door. The tree was smaller than the house but when standing next to it, it loomed overtop of everything. It's leaves were a lovely color orange and although there was an abundance of leaves on the tree, there was a great amount of leaves scattered across the yard. The grass looked neatly tended to, of course there is a hired gardnener to make this so. Regardless of the cheerfulness of the house, one could tell that no one was home. All of the shutters were closed there was a known darkness inside of the house. Everyone in Godric's Hollow knew without looking at the house that it was empty...it has been for about 20 years.
Right when the sun set and everyone nearby was retired into their bed, a lone hooded figure approached the cottage. The figure reached up to it's hood and pulled it down, bowing their head in respect of the home and it's history. The moon was high in the sky and it's light reflected off of the figure's head making their blonde hair glow in the darkness. If anyone were to happen upon this person, they would assume they were male judging by the length of hair along with his height. The man lifted up his head and turned sharply, as if hearing someone else approaching. Their grey eyes flashed dangerously as he pulled out his wand but then realized whatever it was wasn't a threat so with a shrug, he pocketed his wand and turned his attention back to the cottage. One more time, he payed his respects and then pulled up his hood and walked off down the street, stopping at the mailbox and running his hand across the last name engraved there.
Removing his hand, the moonlight once again had access to gleam on the engraved name...Potter