Home sweet home

Guys, Lots of shelling of my city, You can google Kharkiv.

(In general new horrible tactics, first they make a volley of rockets to destroy houses, and then wait and launch rockets in the same place to kill more rescuers, firemen. So it's pretty hot here, explosions all day long.) 

Here's a video. This is the village where I was born and lived until I was 3 years old, and then came to visit almost every summer (my grandmother lived there). In general, there is not much left of it, as it is 6 km away from the country that attacked us.

https://youtube.com/shorts/iGCxpSeM5Rs?si=EzY-8Z4lZv2XQ-Be

In general, waiting for you on Patreon, as well as do not forget about the comments and likes. It's very important for me, there are a lot of my unpublished books.

patreon.com/FanFictionPremium

Enjoy reading.

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I walked down the snow covered street and enjoyed my surroundings, breathing in the fresh, frosty air. Even though I was wearing only a t-shirt, the warming charms of the Elder Wand made me feel comfortable. There were neat little houses along the street, decorated for Christmas, and not all the owners had had time to take down the garlands, even though it had been more than a week since the holiday.

It was dark all around, the day was ending, and lights were burning in the windows. In one house you could see the kitchen, where a family of several people sat around the table and talked excitedly, interrupted now and then by bursts of laughter. In another house, the lights were dimmed and constantly flickered, as if someone was watching television. In the third, on the contrary, there was clearly a party going on, but the owner knew the rules, so despite the large number of people flickering in the windows and the bright lights, the music was barely blasting outside, and only a slight shudder of bass gave away what was going on inside.

I walked away from the centre of the street, trying not to attract attention, but a couple of times I caught a few surprised looks, which quickly turned into outright dislike. Yes, the locals quickly recognised me as the very scoundrel who attends a school for troubled teenagers. I must say that a skinny teenager who walks in a T-shirt in the deep evening of January could not dissuade them from this belief. I didn't try, I just kept walking, not looking round.

Dobby had misunderstood me when I'd asked him to take us "closer to where we met," so I'd had to walk nearly a kilometre. The houseboy himself immediately vanished after arriving, having gone off to scout the area, and I enjoyed the walk. The frosty air tickled my nostrils and cleared my mind, so the panic of seeing Riddle had already subsided, leaving only worry for the Malfoy houseboys. Hopefully nothing would happen to them.

And seeing Riddle didn't upset me at all. It would be both a jab at Snape, who claimed I was being held back by Dumbledore, and at Albus, who Riddle thought was up to something. Let them sort it out, and I would briefly become a follower of a character with a painted face from a long-forgotten comic book - sowing chaos and watching.

As I approached Number Four on Yew Street, I turned round a little earlier, so as not to be seen by Old Lady Figg, and crept in from the back door. There were no lights on anywhere, and I realised that I was finally in luck - the Dursleys weren't home. At least one conversation that I would be accused of having again would be avoided. I don't know for how long, but hopefully they won't show up until at least tomorrow. I suddenly realised that I was here in winter for the first time since I turned ten. Considering that we don't socialise much with the Dursleys, I have no idea how they spend their Christmas holidays.

Pulling the key out from under the mat, I quietly opened the door and listened. There was still the possibility that my relatives had simply gone to bed early, but the lack of loud snoring confirmed my initial assumption. Once inside, I kept the lights off so as not to attract the neighbours' attention, and walked by feel into the kitchen. I had cleaned the house so often that I knew all the passages by heart, so it wasn't difficult. Dobby was waiting for me in the kitchen, having found some groceries and was preparing supper by means of a small lamp.

- Master Harry Potter sir," he greeted me, "there was no one in the house and Dobby used the groceries.

- Okay Dobby, I seem to have eaten recently, but I won't refuse. Are you sure that light can't be seen from the street?

- No, it's a weak light. Dobby can do better," he said, raising his hand.

- No, no," I managed to stop him, "the neighbours mustn't know there's someone in the house, so no noise and no light in the window. And no magic. - I didn't know exactly how the Ministry reacted to witchcraft in a non-magical neighbourhood, but I decided not to take any chances. If they couldn't track a simple apparition of a housekeeper, they were much better at spotting other elven spells, as I remembered from the summer before my sophomore year. I didn't need to call in an auror squad. I realised that the Aurors themselves were no threat to me, but firstly, I was still officially dead, and secondly, there were probably spies among them, not just Dumbledore's but Riddle's as well.

Dobby nodded, going back to cooking, and I settled back on the couch, putting my feet up on Petunia's coffee table. Well, I was home again. Or rather, in the place I was supposed to consider home. After everything that had happened to me here, I couldn't call it home in the full sense of the word. In fact, I have no such place now. Delacourt Manor is Delacourt Manor, not Harry Potter Manor, I've spent too little time in the flat to get used to it, and Godric's Hollow is a mythical place to me. Yes, I know it exists, and I used to live there, but the events there were so tragic that it's unlikely I'll ever be able to stay there in peace.

So it turns out that I have a dozen places where I can hide and sleep, but none of them is my home, it is always a home for someone else. These thoughts made me sad. I hope someday Fleur and I will have a place that we can confidently call our own without reservation.

Distracted by my own thoughts, I didn't notice when Dobby finished cooking and set the table. As I savoured the food, I remembered that the houseboy had some sort of note they'd been talking about when he'd suddenly appeared at the Eaters' meeting.

- Dobby, what was that letter you had?

The houseboy, who I had literally forced to sit at the table and eat with me, was so nervous that he didn't even immediately realise what I was talking about. Soon, however, his already large eyes opened even wider, and he jumped up sharply from his chair and came running towards me.

- Master Harry Potter sir, I'm sorry Dobby, Dobby forgot to give Mistress Fleur's letter, Dobby is a bad elf!

Managing to stop him before he started banging his head against something, I assured him that it was possible to forget anything under those circumstances. I had forgotten all about the letter myself.

When Dobby calmed down, he handed me a quadruple-folded piece of paper, which I unfolded and began to read:

Harry! Are you all right?! I don't know what's going on! For a moment, I felt my connection to you disappear completely. Not just weak like last time, but completely severed. You can't imagine what it felt like. As if some internal organ disappears without warning, without which you just can't live. But then the connection came back and was just as strong. Mum and Gran can't explain what it was. Maybe you can. I'm sure it happened for a reason and something happened to you.

Tell me, where are you now? When that phoenix kidnapped you right off our property, I didn't know what to think. Father was very angry at himself for not having thought of it, and at you, because you knew Dumbledore would do something like that! There are several Ministry workers updating the defences on the estate now, and I'm watching them work, trying to memorise the spells they use. I'm also continuing to train with Bernard. I'm sure I can defeat you the next time we meet.

Do you realise how angry I am? I thought you'd been kidnapped, that something terrible had happened to you, and you just hide and send Dobby to me instead of turning up yourself! Just get caught, Harry Potter, and I'll quickly explain to you what a big mistake you've made leaving your fiancée alone for so long!

I hope you're well. Come back soon, or give me your location. After all, you haven't seen the lingerie set I bought on my last shopping trip. I'm sure you'll love it.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours, Fleur.

There was a note below in a different handwriting:

Harry, I don't know what's going on with you, but I hope it's under control. Fleur's very nervous. I didn't read what she wrote, but I'm sure it was threats mixed with concern. You still have a lot to learn about Veela characters.

I tried to find out where you were being held, but I couldn't, as my government wouldn't get involved. According to them, if one British wizard took another British wizard off our land, then let it stay that way. Plus, because the phoenix did it, I didn't even have direct evidence of Dumbledore's guilt. I'm sorry.

If you need any help, feel free to reach out, I'll do my best. I appreciate you trying to keep Fleur out of England, even if you didn't choose the most successful method to do so. We're doing well, no outside wizards have been detected near the estate. The Minister, on my tip-off, has organised a surveillance of all British wizards entering France. Three have already been arrested, but there were no marks on their hands.

Don't be a hero. Fleur already thought you were dead. Don't do this to her again.

Sebastian.

Leaning back on the back of the couch, I rolled my head back and rubbed my eyes. Too much information. Though if I simplified it as much as possible, it was simple and succinct: they were fine. That thought reassured me. Yeah, I'd probably have to go through a couple of unpleasant moments with Fleur. And, too bad, it looked like I wouldn't be able to tell her the whole truth again, but I'd have to shrug it off.

Hmm, Death never once told me that I shouldn't tell anyone how I ended up here. So why shouldn't I share it with the person closest to me? The answer came immediately - I was afraid. Afraid that once I knew the truth, Fleur would turn her back on me, leave me forever. After all, she loves Harry, and what will happen when she finds out that I'm not quite the Harry she once knew? That truth could break two hearts at once. And I'd have no more family, no more loving fiancée, and no more innocent underwear jokes that make me blush.

That sounds pretty damn selfish, Harry," I corrected myself. She deserves to know the truth. Or rather, she's the only one who deserves to know it. I didn't care how other people reacted as long as they didn't try to kill me, but I knew now that I couldn't go on living with Fleur and pretending that nothing had happened.

I'd been sure that I didn't need to tell Fleur anything, that it wouldn't matter, but now I had to explain the new loss of our connection. Moreover, I now had a debt to Death, and that was not the sort of thing that could be explained by mere ambiguities. Well, then it must be done.

Sitting in the darkness of the living room, in the house of my unloved relatives, I have made a decision that will quite possibly remove the last ray of light from my life forever, leaving only boundless apathy. Even though I don't know how my fiancée will react to such revelations, a worm of doubt has already settled in my soul, gnawing at me from the inside. In my imagination, unspoilt by happy news, Fleur is already looking at me with dislike, as a total stranger who tried to trick her into marrying him, and then turns round and walks out of my life.

I shook my head so vigorously, trying to push away the bleak image, that Dobby reappeared, who had already cleaned up our dinner and was now camped for the night in my favourite closet under the stairs.

- Is everything alright, Master Harry Potter sir? - He looked at me worriedly, and I realised that if the truth was to be told to those people who followed me no matter what the circumstances, Dobby, though he wasn't human, deserved to know it just as much.

- No, Dobby, it's not all right. There's something I need to tell you. The thing is, I'm not exactly the same Harry who saved you in your second year, you know? - I can't think of a worse explanation. Hopefully I'll have a better one by the time I talk to Fleur. The houseboy, however, was not at all embarrassed, nor did he think his master had gone completely mad.

- I know, Master Harry Potter sir. When you first summoned Dobby to your flat, Dobby noticed that you had changed.

- But why didn't you react in any way? - I asked in surprise.

- 'Dobby doesn't understand,' he lowered his ears frustratedly, 'Dobby sensed that the magic of Harry Potter's master Sir Harry Potter had changed slightly, but it didn't matter to Dobby. Dobby always wanted to serve a wizard as powerful and kind as Harry Potter sir, and Dobby's dream has come true. You are still kind and powerful and you are still Harry Potter. Dobby doesn't realise what it means to react.

Despite the confusing nature of his words, the houseboy is logical. Really, what does it matter to him what's going on inside me?

- You're right, Dobby, I'm sorry. I'm just worried that if I tell Fleur the truth, she'll leave me.

- Master Harry Potter sir doesn't have to apologise to Dobby. Dobby is always ready to help. If Mistress Fleur loves Harry Potter sir, she will understand. - The elf shrugged his shoulders plaintively, as if it was something taken for granted. I wish I had the same confidence.

- You're right, Dobby. Well, let's go to bed, good night.

I let go of the houseboy and laid down on the sofa in the living room, bringing myself a pillow and a blanket. At first I thought I wouldn't be able to fall asleep after all of today's worries, because at least I'd seen Riddle today, and at most I'd made the decision to tell Fleur the truth, but as soon as my head touched the cushion, all thoughts vanished and I fell into a heavy sleep, full of dark visions.