Chapter II - character Harry Potter, and a prompt from lightblue-Nymphadora: "Character decides to move into their first house. They find _ while cleaning out the attic."
II
No one else really understood why he had bought the tiny cottage. Number 12 Grimmauld Place was his; he could have lived there if he wanted to. Molly and Arthur Weasley had told him over and over that he had a home with them for as long as he wanted. Failing that, they had urged him to move somewhere near to them. He was family after all. And there were numerous people who would have been happy to share a house or a flat with him. Ron was living over the shop with George, and Hermione and Ginny were back at Hogwarts, but there were plenty of others.
But that wasn't what Harry wanted. He wanted a place of his own. He wanted it in Godric's Hollow. And he did not want to share it with anyone. After all that he had been through he just wanted time and space to come to terms with events. He also wanted to live in Godric's Hollow, where his parents had been happy and where he had been born.
The cottage was ideal. Two bedrooms (so there was room for friends to come and stay - he wasn't cutting himself off by any means); a cosy lounge; a dining kitchen and a bathroom. Plus a comfortable sized garden out the back. Harry loved it at first sight, and bought it the very same day.
Now, he had been living here a fortnight and was more or less settled. The cottage was furnished, the kitchen cupboards were well-stocked (thanks largely to Molly Weasley) and it was beginning to feel like home. The only part of the cottage he had not thoroughly explored was the attic, and he had decided that that was his task for this weekend. He climbed up carefully and looked around. There were a couple of old trunks, no doubt left by previous owners, a broken wardrobe, and an old rocking horse that looked sad and lonely. Harry sat down on one of the trunks and looked about him, lighting his wand to see into the far corners of the attic.
He jumped as he saw a pair of bright green eyes looking back at him from the furthest corner, and saw a flash of movement as something ran behind the wardrobe.
"What the...?" Harry made a dive for where he had seen the movement, and came face to face with a small black cat, little more than a kitten, who was eying him warily.
"Where did you come from?" he asked gently, feeling himself beginning to smile and reaching out a hand to the little cat. The cat approached him cautiously. It was very thin. Harry wondered how long it had been there. He reached out his hands and picked it up carefully, stroking its head and murmuring to it. It mewed and then began to purr.
Harry had never had much to do with cats - apart from Crookshanks and Mrs Norris, neither of whom could be called lovable animals - but there was something about this young one that called out to him. He could not have an owl again yet; not so soon after losing Hedwig, but he had missed having a pet. Tucking the cat inside his jumper, he descended the ladder to the landing.
"Shall we find you something to eat?" he asked, and the cat mewed again.
It would be good to have company in the cottage.