❝The war is won❞
Voldemort has been defeated by Harry Potter for good, and the Wizarding World has begun its healing. The paved streets of Diagon Alley are filled with people vanishing broken glass, fixing up robbed shops, and reinstating their bus...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
AUGUST 7, 1998
BILLIE
"DAD, I'M HOME!" Billie yelled into the house. She kicked off her shoes, balancing several paper boxes, and threw her purse down.
The father-daughter duo lived in a small cottage in Henley-On-Thames. It had cream colored walls, yellow lights, and wallpaper in every room. Right now, the whole place smelled of fish and chips.
"Ah, finally!" Dad, or Maxwell Holt, was a short man with a round middle. Billie's Dad was in his late fifties, yet carried himself with the energy of someone twenty years younger. "How did the pies do?"
"Really good, Dad, really really good," Billie said, setting the boxes down. "Harry Potter came in and bought two of them!"
"Harry Potter?" Dad gasped, clutching at his stomach in surprise. "The little boy who got rid of You-Know-Who in May?"
"That very one," Billie chuckled. "And he isn't a little boy, he's a year older than me,"
"Oh, pish posh, dear! Well, did he like it?" Dad said, guiding Billie into the kitchen and seating her down.
The table had four chairs, but they only set the plates and bowls down for two. Mum's and Batty's seats would remain empty forever. A line of shelves warped around the room; some family pictures, then individual ones, including Uncle Florean and Aunt Cassana, who were Mum's siblings that each passed in a different Wizarding War.
"I'm...not sure. He got them in a takeaway box. Though he hadn't tried them before, and bought two by just looking at them," she said, and accepted the cup of steaming tea.
"Now, isn't that nice of him," Dad said, practically bubbling in his skin with excitement as he stirred the fish around in the pan.
Billie took another look around. There was a thin layer of dust around some of the upper decorative shelves, and judging by the faint spiderweb in the corner of the ceiling, there was dust in other places, too. Dad wasn't the youngest parent, and he had never been too good at cleaning. Billie's Mum, a whiz at cleaning charms, had always maintained the house. And now that she was gone, and Billie was so busy with the ice cream shop and her N.E.W.T year...
Billie desperately hoped that once September 1 passed, her Dad would be able to hold the house and himself together until Christmas.
"Mason's coming to dinner, is that alright?" Billie asked to distract herself.
"Of course, dear. You know he's always welcome," Dad replied automatically, before beginning to wring his hands together. "But I do wish you had told me sooner or sent your ghost-kneazle messenger before, I would have fried three of the fishes instead of two,"
