Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 784: Godric’s Hollow

The next morning, the weather was better than usual—not too cold, not too hot, with a light breeze carrying the coolness of morning dew.

Lupin and Tonksʼ wedding was not held at 12 Grimmauld Place, as some guests from outside the Order of the Phoenix would be attending. For security reasons, they couldnʼt be allowed into the Order’s headquarters.

It was purely a precaution, not a matter of trust.

After a night of discussion, they had settled on an unused house in Godric’s Hollow that had been abandoned for years.

At five in the morning, the group arrived via Portkey.

Looking at the plain and unremarkable house before them, Sirius spoke with a complicated expression.

“Moony, are you sure about this?”

“Of course, Padfoot,” Lupin said with a smile. “It’s the perfect place, isn’t it? And I think Harry will be happy to be back here.”

“What worries me most is actually you. You…”

“I’m fine, really,” Sirius said, turning away to wipe his eyes with his sleeve.

He knew exactly what Lupin meant—this was the Potter family home, the place where James and Lily had lived, and the place where Voldemort had killed them.

And it had all happened because of his own misguided decision to change the Secret Keeper.

After he was cleared of all charges, Sirius had bought the house, though he couldnʼt quite explain why. Maybe he just wanted to hold onto something, a piece of the past.

He had once thought he’d never return here. But last night, when they were discussing the wedding venue, he had blurted out this address without even realizing it.

And just like that, Ottery St. Catchpole was no longer an option.

Without any hesitation, Lupin decided that his wedding would take place in the home where James and Lily had once lived. Only then did Sirius snap back to reality.

But by that point, it was too late to take back what he had said.

“You’ve made all the necessary preparations, haven’t you?” Lupin patted Sirius on the back, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Yes, I have,” Sirius responded instinctively. “Fidelius Charm—the Secret Keeper is me.”

“You won’t change it this time, will you?” Lupin asked with a smile.

“Never,” Sirius said firmly, as if reassuring himself—or someone else who wasn’t there.

...

Meanwhile, on the other side, Harry stood frozen, staring blankly at the beautiful house before him. Ron had called his name several times, but he didn’t respond.

“I never agreed to having the wedding here,” Mrs. Weasley sighed. “They didn’t even consider how Harry would feel.”

“I think they did,” Mr. Weasley said. “Harry is an adult now. Some things he has to face—sooner or later. He can’t keep running from them.”

“Why not? He has friends, he has us. He’s happy now. Why does he have to be reminded of all this pain?”

“Maybe… well…” Mr. Weasley hesitated, momentarily at a loss for words.

Fortunately, Harry spoke up just in time.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, his voice catching slightly. Something flashed in his eyes.

“This is good. Really good. I’ve dreamed of coming here… and I’ve had this dream for sixteen years.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Mrs. Weasley stepped forward and pulled him into a tight hug.

...

“All right, Molly,” Kingsley said as he approached. “We’re on a tight schedule. The guests will be arriving soon. We need to get everything ready.”

“You’re right. Only two hours left,” Mrs. Weasley said, finally letting go of Harry. “That’s hardly enough time. We should have come hours earlier.”

“We had to make sure the kids got some rest. And we only just got off work,” Mr. Weasley reminded her.

“Enough talk—let’s get started,” he called.

Sirius immediately pulled out the key and unlocked the door.

One by one, the group entered the house, with Harry hesitating at the threshold before finally stepping onto the front steps.

“Come on,” Sirius said, extending his hand. “You’re going to like it here.”

Harry took a deep breath. His gaze hardened with determination, and he strode inside.

The house had a strong, musty smell, but Harry didn’t mind in the slightest.

The first thing he saw upon entering was the living room—larger than The Burrow’s, but smaller than 12 Grimmauld Place’s. Still, it had the same cozy atmosphere.

A light blue sofa sat in front of an old television set. It looked outdated now, but a decade ago, it had likely been one of the latest models.

Beside the sofa stood a cabinet, inside of which rested a broom.

“Nimbus 1500.” Lupin walked over and ran a hand over the glass pane of the cabinet. “An old broom model, but it was the best of its time. James rode one just like this when he won the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor.”

Harry’s eyes lit up.

He knew his father had loved Quidditch—his name was even engraved on a medal in the school’s Trophy Room.

He had always wanted to earn a place there himself, but so far, he had never succeeded.

Since he started at Hogwarts, Hufflepuff had dominated the Quidditch championship. Even in the year before he enrolled, they had won. If he didn’t count the year the Triwizard Tournament caused the season’s cancellation, Hufflepuff had claimed the cup for six consecutive years.

Harry shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside, and turned his attention back to the room.

The carpet, the table, the chairs, the lamps, the fireplace… He had never seen any of these things before, yet they all felt oddly familiar, as if they had been buried deep in his memory and were only now resurfacing.

And it wasn’t just Harry—everyone else seemed momentarily lost in thought upon entering. But soon enough, someone remembered what they were supposed to be doing.

“Hurry up!” Mr. Weasley clapped his hands. “The guests will be here at seven—don’t forget.”

His words snapped everyone back to reality.

The house had been abandoned for over a decade. Without the comforting weight of memories to soften the space, the sheer amount of work to be done suddenly became overwhelming.

First, the musty smell was unbearable. Then there was the dust—so much of it that it felt as if someone had dumped an entire sack of flour over the room.

It was, arguably, in worse condition than 12 Grimmauld Place had been when they first arrived there.

“Sirius!” Mrs. Weasley frowned. “Have you seriously never cleaned this place since you bought it?”

Sirius remained silent.

Of course he hadn’t. He had barely been able to bring himself to set foot in Godric’s Hollow—why would he ever come here to clean?

“Never mind, as long as we move quickly, two hours should be enough,” Mr. Weasley said, pulling out his wand and giving a small wave toward the table in front of him.

“Scourgify.”

Immediately, a small whirlwind lifted the dust from the table, carrying it outside. The fresh air that rushed in also helped to clear some of the musty staleness from the room.

The others quickly followed suit, using the same spell to sweep away the dust.

But no one touched the three-person portrait on the wall. They all knew that was something only Harry should handle.

The painting showed a couple—James and Lily—holding a newborn baby in their arms. At this moment, however, the baby’s forehead was still unblemished, free of the lightning-shaped scar.

...

“Cover your faces,” Mrs. Weasley instructed, stepping around Harry without a word and handing two small black bottles to Ron and Hermione.

They knew exactly what they were—Doxycide. They hadnʼt expected her to bring it, but it made sense.

“This house has been empty for over a decade. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s completely overrun with pests by now,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Come on, Fred, George, if you two are just going to stand there doing nothing, you might as well go home!”

“All right, Mum, we’re helping…”

“As long as you don’t kick us out.”

“But give us just three more minutes…”

“We’ve got something to show Harry.”

Fred and George grinned, leaning over the banister from the upper floor. “Come up here, Harry! We’ve found something you’re definitely going to like.”

Harry hesitated, then tore his gaze away from the portrait and followed them upstairs.

Fred and George stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking something behind them. As soon as Harry reached the top of the stairs, they stepped aside in perfect sync, revealing a small crib.

“We’re guessing this was yours…”

“Unless you have a sister…”

“Or a brother…”

“Or another sister…”

“But hopefully not a little brother.”

“Just look at Ron. He’s been nothing but trouble.”

Fred and George spoke in their usual teasing tone. On any other day, Harry might have chuckled at their banter, but now, he didn’t seem to hear them at all. He simply walked forward, almost on instinct.

The crib had already been cleaned. Inside, a soft blue velvet cushion, matching the sofa downstairs, had been carefully laid out. Hanging above it was a delicate wind chime, strung together with tiny seashells.

Harry stared at it, his fingers occasionally reaching out to brush against the shells.

...

Meanwhile, Fred and George had slipped away unnoticed. The twins made their way back downstairs, where they found Kyle rummaging through something in front of the curtains.

“What are you looking for?”

“Doxies,” Kyle said. “Niffler likes these things, so I’m gathering some as a snack for him.”

“So if we had a dozen Nifflers, we wouldn’t need to clean?” George asked with a grin.

“They wouldn’t be able to eat that much,” Kyle replied without looking back, casually placing two Doxies into a specially designed box.

Fortunately, this place was much smaller than the Black family’s old house. With everyone working together, it took just over an hour to get the room completely cleaned.

However, as they looked at the newly tidied space, Sirius and Lupin froze once again, lost in memories.

“Sirius!”

At that moment, Harry came rushing down from upstairs.

“Can I live here after I graduate?” he asked eagerly, holding a seashell wind chime in his hand.

Harry had assumed Sirius would agree without hesitation, but to his surprise, Sirius shook his head firmly.

“No, Harry.”

“Why not?” Harry was momentarily stunned before raising his voice. “This was my parents’ house! Why can’t I live here?”

“It was,” Sirius said, “but it belongs to me now. I have the magical deed.”

“I’ll buy it back,” Harry said. “I have money—you can take whatever you want from my vault.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said stiffly. “I can give you anything—my vault, 12 Grimmauld Place, whatever you want—but not this.”

“I…”

“Listen to me, Harry.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“You have your own life now, a new life… This place holds our memories.” Sirius took a deep breath. “I’m asking you—please, let me keep it, okay?”

Harry fell silent.

It was the first time Sirius had ever used the word ask with him.

For the past two years, Sirius had been helping him, giving him things he had never had before. Harry had always wanted to do something in return, but the opportunity had never presented itself.

Now, he finally had the chance—but he couldn’t bear to take it, because he would give up everything he had to keep this house.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other, neither speaking, neither backing down.

The others remained silent as well, quietly slipping out of the room.

“Tsk.” Fred stretched his arms and glanced at the closed door. “Do you think Sirius will give the house back to Harry?”

“I think he will,” George said. “Like Harry said, this is where his parents lived—he has every right to be here.”

“I don’t think so,” Kyle said after a moment’s thought. “And honestly, I don’t think Sirius should.”

“Why not?” George asked curiously.

“Because Sirius made a mistake once. If Harry lives here, he’ll never be able to forget what happened that night. It’ll be a constant torment.”

“That’s a fair point,” Fred admitted with a nod. “Hopefully, he can convince Harry. But if Harry insists, I think Sirius will eventually give in.”

“All right, you three,” Mrs. Weasley interrupted their conversation as she approached.

“This is something for the two of them to decide. Now, help me set up the venue, will you? It’s already half past six, and there’s still so much to do.

“Flowers, balloon decorations, formal attire… Oh dear, where did Sirius put the dress robes? He didn’t forget them, did he?”

“He didn’t, Molly. I have them,” Lupin said. “Don’t worry, it’s just a small ceremony.”

“That won’t do,” she muttered. “Oh! The cake—I need to go check on it.” Without waiting for a reply, Mrs. Weasley hurried off again.

Under her direction, everyone quickly got to work.

Kyle walked around the house, tapping his wand against the ground. With each touch, vibrant flowers sprouted up, and before long, he had conjured an enormous, flourishing garden.

“Incredible.” Mr. Weasley admired the small cluster of orchids he had conjured, then glanced at the vast garden Kyle had created.

“Looks like I wasn’t needed after all. You really didn’t need any help.”

“I told you,” Kyle said with a smile.

At 6:40 p.m., another guest arrived.

Hagrid landed his motorbike right in the middle of the garden.

“Sorry about that,” he said, looking at the flattened flowers. “I thought this was just an open space.”

“It used to be,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Now hurry up and move your motorbike.”

“Ah, right.” Hagrid easily lifted the bike with one hand and carried it over to a nearby clearing. Kyle followed behind, restoring the damaged flowers with a flick of his wand.

Fred and George conjured dozens of shimmering fairies, which flitted through the air like tiny lights.

Hermione flicked her wand, sending red and yellow banners unfurling through the sky, carried by the fairies.

“What do the colors mean?” Ginny asked curiously. “I think gold would look better.”

“Yellow is Hufflepuff’s color,” Hermione explained. “Tonks was in Hufflepuff, and if we used gold, it would look entirely Gryffindor.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Ginny said sincerely.

“I doubt they’d mind either way,” Fred whispered. “If you ask me, I think Tonks would prefer something bubblegum pink—like her hair right now.”

“We can always add more decorations later,” Kyle said. “There’s plenty of space.”

“Make way, make way—” Mrs. Weasley’s voice rang out as she approached, carrying a towering three-tiered cake.

The cake was decorated with an abundance of fruit, chocolate, and marshmallows, all covered in a thick layer of syrup.

“Professor Dumbledore really should be here for this wedding,” Kyle muttered.

“What did you say?” George asked. He had been too busy staring at the cake to catch Kyle’s words.

“Nothing.” Kyle shook his head. “I just think Dumbledore would have really liked this cake.”