0156 Sadness

Compared to the other graves, the tombstone in front of them, built from white marble, was obviously much newer.

This made it stand out particularly among the other graves, and the inscription on it was also much clearer.

At this moment, Harry suddenly felt something heavy pressing against his chest. Grief weighed on his heart like a palpable force.

He took a deep breath, mustered his courage, and looked down.

James Potter, born March 27, 1960, died October 31, 1981.

Lily Potter, born January 30, 1960, died October 31, 1981.

Below was another line of text.

[The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death]

Harry read it carefully and slowly, afraid of missing even a single word.

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

He read the phrase again, his face showing confusion.

Seeing his puzzlement, Mr. Weasley explained gently.

"This phrase means that life can transcend death—some people, though they die, still live on."

But they still lost their lives in the end.

Harry could understand Mr. Weasley's words, but he found it hard to accept this explanation.

In his view, when people died, they were dead—that was the end of it.

These empty words couldn't conceal the fact that his parents' bones were gradually rotting beneath the stone and earth.

Before coming here, Harry hadn't expected he would feel such sadness.

He had never met his parents, yet burning tears still spilled from his eyes, dropping to the ground one by one.

Wiping them away or hiding them had lost all meaning.

He pressed his lips tightly together and let the tears flow.

'Sixteen years had passed—perhaps only bones remained here, or more likely, only dust.

But—My parents are here.

I—came to see you.'

Harry took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions and calm himself down. But he couldn't do it.

After some time, a soft sigh drifted over.

Mr. Weasley raised his wand and drew a circle in the air.

A wreath of roses bloomed in front of them.

This time, though Mr. Holmes and Mr. Granger exchanged surprised glances, they tacitly refrained from applauding Mr. Weasley's magic.

Harry looked at Mr. Weasley gratefully, took the wreath, and placed it on his parents' grave.

After laying down the wreath, Harry slowly stood up.

The moment he rose, he immediately wanted to leave.

Sensing Harry's hesitation, Mr. Weasley spoke again.

"Come on, Harry, let's go to your house."

On the way back, Harry followed Mr. Weasley closely, not daring to look back. He was afraid that if he turned around, he wouldn't be able to resist returning here.

Sherlock, however, was different. He continued to scan their surroundings.

Suddenly, his gaze fixed on a moss-covered, broken tombstone.

This tombstone was truly ancient, battered to the point where the name carved on it was almost unrecognizable.

But the name wasn't the focus—what truly caught Sherlock's attention was a symbol beneath the name.

Sherlock didn't know why, but somehow, he felt this symbol was special, possessing a mysterious attraction.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?"

Hermione and Ron saw Sherlock lingering in front of an unfamiliar grave and curiously approached.

"Nothing."

Sherlock shook his head. It was just a momentary interest, and there was no need to waste time here. However, he still made note of this grave's location.

The group passed Dumbledore's mother and sister's graves again and walked back toward the church and the narrow gate that was now out of sight.

Leaving the church, Mr. Weasley led everyone through Godric's Hollow, taking some time to explain the situation related to the village.

Godric's Hollow was just a simple village in the old times. It was called this because a thousand years ago, one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Godric Gryffindor, was born here.

Though called a hollow, it was essentially a village.

With the implementation of the International Statute of Secrecy, wizards began living in Muggle villages, and this place gradually evolved into a semi-wizarding settlement.

Particularly after 1968, the International Statute of Secrecy records indicated that this was the ideal place for wizards to live in hiding.

Godric's Hollow had been home to many famous wizarding families.

Besides being Godric Gryffindor's birthplace, it was also where the famous wizard goldsmith Bowman Wright created the first Golden Snitch.

The status of Quidditch in the wizarding world hardly needed explanation.

There was also the previously mentioned Dumbledore family, as well as Bathilda Bagshot, author of "A History of Magic."

They had all lived in this village.

Because of this, the village held a special position throughout the wizarding world.

But if one looked solely at the current state of the wizarding world, among all the wizards who had once lived here, Harry might actually be the most famous one at present.

The reason for this hardly needed further explanation.

After finishing this explanation, they happened to arrive at a corner of the village.

The Potter family's ancient house, half-destroyed by Voldemort's Killing Curse, stood there alone.

The house was dilapidated, overgrown with weeds, abandoned and desolate, its broken walls seeming to tell of past tragedy.

Fortunately, the remaining half of the house was still intact.

"Harry, this is your home."

Mr. Weasley looked at the scene with nostalgic eyes. "Though it looks desolate and run-down on the outside, Professor Dumbledore arranges for house-elves to come clean it every year."

Harry nodded, his eyes showing gratitude.

Sherlock's gaze swept over Mr. Weasley without leaving a trace.

This statement earned Dumbledore some goodwill points. This also showed that the Weasley family were truly Dumbledore's staunch supporters.

At this moment, Mr. Weasley quickly walked to the door and pulled it open.

Even inside, weeds still grew everywhere. But what was more eye-catching was a wooden sign among the weeds.

Written on it in glowing letters were words commemorating and remembering the Potter family.

"This was also Professor Dumbledore's doing."

Mr. Weasley said softly, "James and Lily—they made great contributions and deserve to be remembered."

Harry had already cried once at his parents' grave, but at this moment, he still couldn't control his emotions and tears fell again.

Seeing this scene, Hermione couldn't help but recite softly.

"Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft star-shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die."

She had forgotten where she had seen this little poem.

But seeing Harry's condition at this moment, she felt moved to recite it softly.

Harry turned around and said gratefully, "Thank you, Hermione."

Happy to help Harry temporarily forget his sadness, Hermione smiled with relief, "Harry, we're friends."

"Yes, friends—"

Harry said this while instinctively looking toward Sherlock.

Hermione: (╯°□°）╯

She didn't know why, but she felt somehow offended.

At this moment, Sherlock was examining the house.

Although half of it had been destroyed, he still roughly reconstructed the house's original appearance through analysis and reconstruction.

After entering, there was a small foyer, then the living room.

The living room had comfortable sofas and a fireplace that often burned with warm flames, bringing warmth and light to the entire room.

Family photos and magical paintings hung on the walls, displaying the Potter family's history and memories.

There was also a staircase leading to the second floor.

When intact, the wooden banister should have gleamed with a soft luster.

The second floor should have several bedrooms.

One was James and Lily's master bedroom, furnished with a large bed and simple furniture like wardrobes and a dressing table.

There was also a nursery prepared for Harry, with a small bed, toys, and baby supplies.

The nursery walls might have been painted with cute magical creatures and stars and moons, full of childlike wonder.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

Hermione asked in confusion, seeing his appearance.

Hearing Sherlock honestly explain his deductions, Mr. Weasley was extremely surprised.

After all, he had seen the Potter house in its intact state, and except for a few minor details, it was almost exactly as Sherlock described.

This young man was remarkable!

The remaining furniture and furnishings in the house looked as good as new.

This confirmed Mr. Weasley's earlier words—house-elves cleaned them spotless every year.

Just then, a faint magical aura stirred, accompanied by a voice.

"James, is that James?"

Everyone looked toward where the voice came from—exactly where Sherlock had mentioned the family photos hung.

Just moments ago, the frame had been empty.

But now a portrait had suddenly appeared.

The person wore wizard robes and looked remarkably like Harry.

If Harry reached thirty, he would probably not only resemble but look identical to this man.

However, the man in the painting had slightly more rugged facial features compared to Harry.

Almost instantly, Sherlock had identified the person's identity.

James Potter's father, Harry Potter's grandfather.

"No, you're not James, you're—you're Harry!"

The voice suddenly became delighted.

"You're Harry, aren't you?"

The portrait's voice trembled.

Harry nodded somewhat hesitantly, "Yes, I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

"I'm your grandfather, Fleamont Potter! Child, come quickly, let me get a good look at you!"

"Grandfather—Grandfather!"

At this moment, longing for family poured out, and Harry quickly walked to the portrait.

Seeing this scene, Mr. Weasley quietly gestured, and everyone quietly withdrew, leaving the space and time to Harry and his grandfather.

"What a rare family reunion. I think Harry should be happier now."

Watching this grandfather and grandson reunion, Mr. Weasley, now outside, was quite moved. He explained to everyone.

"Regrettably, Mr. Potter had already died before Harry was born.

So, when Harry was born, he and Harry's grandmother had already become portraits."

Hearing this, Sherlock couldn't help but frown. "The cause?"

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