As soon as I apparated onto the windy cliff memories started coming back to me instantly. Not having been here for a long time I expected it to be unfamiliar, but it was exactly as it had always been. The small handmade gravestone that years of wind and rain had made unreadable. The rocky beaches below me and the overgrown garden surrounding the house. I quickly walked in through the carved weather-worn door to the entry room and started looking around the place. The small well-decorated rooms, the worn out carpets, the tasteful decor, all the way it should be. And there on the mantle the many framed photographs all smiling and waving at me. The ones of my grandmother and grandfather were the most beautiful whether it was because of her beauty or his handsomeness (despite his many scars) I was never really sure. Somehow as I walked out of the house I knew I wouldn't be coming back. As I turned around and looked back at the door, the sign hanging above it caught my eye. The weather-worn words "Shell Cottage."