A full moon hung quietly in the deep blue sky of Godric's Hollow. Even though there was still a lingering mist all around, when one looked up, one could still see the stars dotting the night sky, serenely emitting a faint glow, which made people recall the shiny broken crystals on Slughorn's velvet dressing gown. The wind at the entrance of the valley was quite strong, and even though I was wrapped in Harry's coat, I could still feel a trace of coolness. This place seemed a bit more prosperous than the village where we had just visited Slughorn. The golden street lamps enveloped the houses standing on both sides of the narrow alley in a warm and cozy halo. The area illuminated by the street lamps arranged in a circle ahead seemed to be the center of this village. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination, but Dumbledore let out a slight sigh. The moonlight illuminated the old man's completely white beard and eyebrows. He retracted his wand into the pocket of his robe with his withered and dark hand, and for a moment, he showed a kind of old age and weariness that finally matched his age.
"Good evening, Nymphadora." The next second, he turned towards the young witch with a haggard face standing under the street lamp. "Are you on duty today?"
"Good evening, Professor. Harry, Iris—long time no see. It's been ages since I last saw you." Tonks' hair was no longer the usual bubblegum pink. Her short ash-brown hair clung closely around her heart-shaped face, making her no longer look as radiant as before. She wrapped her coat tightly around herself and barely managed a smile at us. "Professor, Mrs. Potter asked me to inquire if you'd like to give a speech tomorrow. She's reserved some time for you."
"Ah, no need. Letting a wrinkled old man give a speech for the lost young lives... Give my time back to her family." Dumbledore looked towards the square in the distance, where chairs and long tables had already been neatly arranged. "But I will come. Just give me a seat in the corner."
"I'll pass the message along." Tonks nodded. "Then I'll send them home. Mrs. Potter has been waiting all this time."
I had thought that Dumbledore would Apparate away immediately, but he walked with us past several shops and a post office. When we reached a small church, he stopped. Following his gaze, we saw rows of tombstones standing quietly in the night. The street lamps cast his tall and thin shadow onto the wall of the church. Suddenly, his back wasn't as straight anymore. He hunched slightly, as if paying a silent tribute under the cross.
"His mother and sister are also buried here." After Dumbledore bowed slightly to bid us farewell, Harry whispered to me. "But he rarely comes back, and the adults never mention it either—be careful, some of the bricks on this road are loose, and you'll step in a puddle of water after it rains."
"Sister?" I was a bit surprised, and then I felt that my surprise was a bit ridiculous. Perhaps in my perception, Dumbledore was really far removed from ordinary words like "family". It was as if in my eyes, he had always been that calm and kind old man sitting right in the middle of the Headmaster's table in the Great Hall. It was hard to imagine what he looked like when he was young, but who hasn't been young?
Harry walked ahead of Iris and Tonks with ease, nimbly leaping over a loose stone brick from time to time like a little deer moving through the forest. Tonks walked beside us in silence, never putting down her wand. I remembered what my mother said, that ever since the incident in the Department of Mysteries, Tonks' state had been very poor. She blamed herself for not sending Mr. Longbottom back to St. Mungo's in time and felt responsible for his death. Her low spirits even made it difficult for her to use her Metamorphmagus abilities skillfully.
We came to a small garden that clearly was carefully tended to by its owner every day. Dense and neatly arranged green plants climbed up the white fence, and the blue-purple morning glories bloomed in the moonlight around the wooden sign that said "The Potters'". When we stopped in front of them, we could even hear the soft humming of a melody coming from the flowers. Harry reached out and pulled a bell hanging down beside it, and soon we heard footsteps coming from inside the door.
"Who is it?" It was easy to recognize Mrs. Potter's voice. "State your name!"
"Mom," Harry replied. "Tonks is sending me and Iris back."
The door opened immediately. Mrs. Potter, wrapped in a dressing gown, appeared at the doorway. She quickly hugged Harry and stepped aside to let us in. "I thought you'd arrive a bit later, so I told everyone else to go to bed. Tonks, would you like to come in and have some hot soup?"
"No, thanks." Tonks shook her head, indicating that she had other things to attend to. After Iris and I walked in, she spun around on the spot and disappeared in an instant.
"Are you hungry?" she asked as we walked along, not really giving us a chance to answer. "You must be. How about some bread with thick soup? I remember Harry said you don't like mushrooms, so I made some onion soup. I'll put your bag in the study. You can share a room with Hermione tonight. You don't mind, do you, dear?"
"Not at all," I said quickly. "Thank you so much for your trouble."
"It's no trouble at all. As long as you're both safe and sound..." Mrs. Potter let out a sigh and made a large plate of buttered bread and a pot of soup fly onto the dining table. While ladling out the soup, she absent-mindedly looked at the clock that already showed eleven o'clock and almost burned her hand. Harry took the ladle from her and quietly told her to sit down and rest.
"Your father said he'd be back tonight," Mrs. Potter looked distracted. "After you finish eating, go wash up and get some rest. We have to get up early tomorrow. I'll keep waiting for him."
There was only the soft sound of spoons clinking against ceramic bowls left on the dining table. I wasn't really hungry. I had just been forced to eat a few pieces of very sweet jackfruit preserves at Slughorn's place. Even though the soup in front of me smelled delicious, I didn't have much of an appetite.
"So what did Dumbledore take you two to do? It can't be something you're not allowed to talk about again, right?" Mrs. Potter looked at us and asked.
"He asked us to persuade Professor Slughorn to work at Hogwarts this school year," Harry seemed starving and was wolfing down the bread with his mouth full. Seeing that he was wide-eyed and couldn't speak, I answered for him. "Professor Slughorn agreed."
"Oh, that explains why he took you two. If Neville wasn't so inconvenient to go out, I bet he would have taken Neville too," Mrs. Potter nodded. "Poor boy. After much discussion, we decided not to let him come tomorrow. He's been through enough. If he were to think that his father didn't even have a body to be buried... sigh."
"I shouldn't be crying in front of you," she wiped away the tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. "If us adults are always crying and being indecisive, you'd be even more at a loss. But... I just can't help it... I went to help prepare the flowers needed for tomorrow, and I saw Taurus holding Amelia's photo frame and sleeping on the sofa... I just can't..."
"Eat, go on and eat. It's all right." Seeing that Harry and I put down our bowls and were about to go over to comfort her, she shook her head and blew her nose with a handkerchief. Looking at the two-thirds of the thick soup left in my bowl, she said to me, "It doesn't matter. You don't have to force yourself to finish it all. When you're full, go upstairs and rest. I'll clean up later."
"You should go to bed early too." Before leading me upstairs, Harry went over and kissed his mother on the side of her face. "You've been so tired these past few days."
"I thought you and Harry wouldn't be back until tomorrow!" As soon as I pushed open the door of the study, I heard Hermione's delighted voice. She had already changed into her pajamas. Presumably, upon hearing the commotion downstairs, she put on an extra coat and waited for us to come up. "Has Mr. Potter come back yet?"
"Not yet." Harry stood at the door and didn't come in. He looked at Hermione. "How was Taurus today?"
The smile on Hermione's face faded considerably. "Terrible. I thought he was gone in the afternoon. Ron and I were so scared that we looked everywhere for him. Fortunately, we found him in the end. We wanted to talk to him, but he just turned into a dog and hid in the wardrobe, baring his teeth at anyone who got close. He didn't even want to eat... I dragged him out and managed to persuade him to eat a little."
"Then I'd better go and keep him company next door." Harry scratched his head.
"That's a good idea. I'm not too reassured leaving Ron alone with him." Hermione said worriedly. "If they were to fight like Mr. Black and Mr. Potter did, Ron wouldn't be a match for Taurus."
"Fight?" After Harry left, I widened my eyes and asked Hermione, "What else happened?"
"A few days ago, as soon as I got here, I heard Mr. Black and Mr. Potter having a huge argument next door. Mr. Black said he didn't want to care about anything and that all he wanted was revenge—to get revenge on You-Know-Who." Hermione pointed to the small building outside the window. "They got so worked up that they started fighting... They didn't use their wands; it was a real physical fight. We didn't dare to go up and try to stop them. Mr. Black's expression was really terrifying. It wasn't until Mr. Potter shouted at him asking if he didn't care about Taurus anymore, and also said that if Mr. Black didn't care, then he and Mrs. Potter wouldn't either—actually, everyone knows that's impossible, but Mr. Black finally calmed down a bit. Even so, Mrs. Potter is still worried that he might lose his composure at the funeral tomorrow."
After washing up, Hermione and I lay on our pillows and chatted aimlessly. We weren't in high spirits, and we felt that just sitting in silence would make us feel even worse. I briefly told her about the visit to Slughorn that Dumbledore took us on, and she told me about the things that had happened while helping Mrs. Potter prepare for the funeral these past few days. We fell asleep in a daze without hearing the sound of knocking downstairs.
The next day, instead of waiting for Mrs. Potter to knock on the door and call us downstairs for breakfast, we were woken up by the bright sunlight shining through the curtains. Hedwig was fluttering around on the balcony next to us, flapping her wings as she looked for her master. Hermione poked her head out and pointed next door to her. With a soft chirp of gratitude, she flew over. Only then did I realize that the two houses weren't completely separated by a fence. There was a small door made of green plants at the place where the two small gardens were connected.
I always thought that a funeral should be accompanied by a rainy day with people holding umbrellas, but today was one of the rare beautiful and pleasant days since the start of this summer. Even the wind blowing from the entrance of the valley only gently fluttered our dark black skirts. Hermione and I were arranged by Mrs. Potter to help guide the guests who came to the funeral to the small square in the center of the village. Although the Ministry of Magic had already held a public farewell ceremony for the passing of Amelia Black, this funeral, in order to avoid being disturbed by reporters, only informed a small number of relatives, friends, and colleagues. But when we arrived at the square at noon, most of the chairs were already occupied, and there were also some people who had heard the news and come to offer their condolences on the spot, standing beside with bouquets of flowers in their hands and looking ahead with serious expressions. I saw my mother sitting between Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye Moody, listening intently to what they were saying, so I didn't go over to say hello to her. Instead, I sat on the back row of chairs together with Hermione, Ron, and the other younger members of the Weasley family.
This was the first funeral I had ever attended in my life. In fact, people's perception of death is rather dull. It can even take a long time from hearing the news that a familiar person has passed away suddenly to finally realizing that the last time we met was a farewell for good. I watched as person after person, all dressed in deep black, walked to the front of the crowd with solemn or touched expressions, and spoke to the photo of Mrs. Black, sharing the goodbyes they hadn't had the chance to say to her before. In the photo, the young Mrs. Black looked at us with clear and determined eyes, and then she suddenly smiled slightly and reached out to adjust the hair hanging over her shoulders. At that moment, I felt a sharp pain in my heart and a deep sense of fear. This fear made me really want to hold someone's hand tightly at this moment, hoping that they could give me the courage to continue sitting here, just like Hermione who was leaning on Ron's shoulder at this time, covering half of her face with a handkerchief and crying sadly.
Harry and Taurus were sitting together in the front row. Both of them had a white rose pinned to their chests, and Harry would politely clap beside him after each person finished speaking. Taurus and Mr. Black only appeared when the funeral officially started. Surprisingly, they didn't seem to be in the "terrible" state that Hermione had described at all. The father and son were both wearing exquisite dark-colored formal dresses and sitting in the first row. Their slightly curly long black hair was neatly combed back and tied into a small ponytail. Taurus was holding a bunch of lavender hibiscus in his hand. The bright sunlight shone on his side face as he stared intently at the flowers. If it were an ordinary day, I'm sure it would have made many young witches sigh in admiration. No matter whether the person standing on the stage was speaking passionately or crying sorrowfully, he never lifted his eyes.
Finally, after Mr. Potter bowed to the audience amidst the applause and completed his brief speech, Mr. Black stood up expressionlessly. It was obvious that many people were a bit nervous, as if they were worried that he would suddenly wave his wand and shout angrily. But Mr. Black didn't have a wand in his hand. He stood in front of his wife's photo frame with his hands empty and lowered his head in silence for a few seconds. Just when everyone thought the silence would continue and they all lowered their heads to express their condolences, Mr. Black suddenly began to sing a song softly.
It was a song whose melody and lyrics were very unfamiliar to wizards. The words in the lyrics that were only used in the Muggle world made many people show confused expressions at the beginning. I think Muggle-born wizards, like my mother and Hermione, might have recognized which song it was, but even a well-intentioned harmony seemed to be a disturbance at this moment. Mr. Black closed his eyes and sang earnestly. There was even a faint smile on the corner of his mouth, as if he had forgotten where he was standing and was completely immersed in another period of time.
There was a soft rustling sound of fabric rubbing nearby. I had no idea when Professor Dumbledore, who appeared beside me, had arrived. He didn't make his way through the crowd to take the seat reserved for him in the first row. He extended his right index finger, as withered and black as charred wood, and placed it vertically against his lips, halting the greeting that the person in the last row, who had noticed his arrival, was about to utter. He also declined the seat I offered him. Standing behind me, his deep blue eyes, through his half-moon spectacles, were fixed on Mr. Black, who was still humming "The Kisses in Casablanca Remain", and his left hand gently rested on the back of my chair, keeping time to the song.
It seemed as if at this moment, the sound of the wind, the chirping of birds, and the tolling of the bells in the small church in Godric's Hollow all came to a standstill. Mr. Black's voice had been calm all along, but he suddenly choked up when repeating the last line of the final verse once again. Standing there, he stared at the smile that once again bloomed on the photo of his wife. It seemed that he exerted a great deal of effort to sing the last line in fits and starts.
A tear streamed from his red eyes and trickled into his newly shaved stubble.
"As time goes by, I love you more and more with each passing day."
Editor's Note: After obtaining the consent of Mr. and Mrs. Potter, the magazine attached the correspondence between Amelia Black (1960 - 1996) and Fiona Potter (1960 - 1997) that they had sorted out, following the main text of this serial. Among them, there is also a short message from Sirius Black (1959 - 1998) to James Potter (1960 - 1997).
Fiona,
Stop writing to ask me what exactly happened. I've repeated it several times. He must have been joking. What's so strange about Sirius Black joking about such a thing? I've already decided that once I finish dealing with the matters at hand, I'll go and talk to Dumbledore and ask him to send someone else to get the information from Black, the information that he has collected from all over the place while riding his modified motorcycle. I think Dumbledore will understand.
I'm sorry that I might miss your wedding with James. I wish you all the best in advance.
Your faithfully,
Amelia Bones
Fiona,
If you really insist that I tell you exactly what happened that day so that you can put your curiosity to rest, well, but I want to emphasize at the beginning that Black must have been joking. I also hope that after you hear this, you won't make fun of me about it, and definitely don't tell James about it.
That day, as usual, I went to another baffling place to meet him according to the indication of his Patronus. Compared to the previous places like the Muggle fresh produce market, the cargo ship full of containers on the sea, and the basement of the Muggle hospital stuffed with dead people, that dirty Muggle bar (even worse than the Hog's Head Inn) at least had a place to sit. Although every time I complain to you, you always say that I enjoy it. I'm tired of explaining to you that my liking for him at school back then was just a momentary lapse in judgment. Fiona, you've always known that I'm a self-disciplined and honest person. He was squeezed among a group of drunkards, raising huge glass cups with them to drink Muggle beer. He asked me if I minded him finishing watching the movie that was playing in the bar. A movie is a form of entertainment for Muggles. They can make moving images come out of a special small box. It's a bit like our photos and portraits, but the people in it obviously don't know how many drunkards are surrounding them. They just keep talking to the people in the box. Black was watching it with great interest. I really didn't have anything else to do that day, so I sat down and waited for him. I listened to him explaining to me from time to time what the names of the men and women on those black-and-white screens were. He said he had been to the place where the story in the movie took place, Casablanca in Morocco. Alas, these details aren't really important. It makes it seem like I care a lot about what he said. He was just drunk and talking nonsense. Fortunately, he still remembered the things that Dumbledore had told him to do. After I listened to the information, I was about to leave. Suddenly, he asked me if I would marry him.
I was really angry. He clearly knew that I had liked him before, yet he made fun of me with such a thing. I really hate his nonchalant tone about everything. Fortunately, I set a rule for myself back then that all that inexplicable liking for him should end when I graduated. Now it seems that was a really right decision. I'll be able to see Dumbledore tomorrow. I really hope that apart from the Order of the Phoenix meetings, I won't have any need to contact him in the future.
Happy wedding.
Your faithfully,
Amelia Bones
Damn it! Do you even need to ask? Of course I was serious. Who jokes about getting married? I thought the atmosphere was nice at that time, and since I rarely had the time, I just proposed. Who knows where Dumbledore will send me tomorrow! That movie was quite good. I plan to get a Muggle television at home in the future. Do you want one? I can give it to you and Fiona as a wedding gift.
Sirius
Fiona,
I'm really sorry that I missed little Harry's second birthday party. I wonder if he likes the new toy broom that Sirius and I gave him. This model seems quite sturdy this time. The shopkeeper said that if it breaks within a week, we can directly go to him to get a new one.
You wrote to ask me how I made up with Sirius last time. Have you quarreled with James too? I was really angry that time, so I drove him to your house and made him sleep there for a week. Taurus was still so young then. He simply treated his son like a toy and didn't act like a proper father at all. Naturally, I never expected him to become like my father or my elder brother someday, but at least he should show some growth, right? I originally thought that I would have to quarrel with him for at least half a month this time, but he changed his mind. Instead of trying to figure out how to break the magic I cast at the door of our house, he drove his motorcycle and hovered outside the window of the bedroom singing. Fortunately, you and James took Harry on a vacation those days and didn't see that embarrassing scene. It was about to rain outside, and he was still singing something like "Please come back and find me in Casablanca". If James also rides a flying broom and sings at the window of your bedroom this time, don't doubt it. It was taught by Sirius.
I really have no way to deal with him. Just like you said before, falling in love with him might be the only thing I've ever done in my life that wasn't sensible.
Your faithfully,
Amelia Black