Albus Potter and the Cursed Legacy | Scorbus

25. The Widow

Perhaps if the small wizarding village hadn't been so closely associated with Hogwarts and it's students, Albus could have grown to appreciate Hogsmeade. A certain charm emanated from the grey stone houses with their peaked rooves resembling the pointed witch hats that many of the villagers were adorned with. Soon, the pointed eaves would be adorned with twinkling Christmas lights, with garland and wreaths spreading a pine scent reminiscent of the holidays.

Albus couldn't help but want to spend time admiring the Christmas decorated village with Scorpius. He knew he'd appreciate it, the sparkling strings of light reflected in his awestruck glassy eyes. Maybe they could go together once December arrived so that Albus could make up for being such a lousy friend this time. Albus hoped Scorpius would forgive him soon. It had only been two and a half days but he was already heartbroken by the lack of his best friend by his side. Albus had been shunned and ignored by many of his peers before, even his own family, but being blocked out by Scorpius stung in a way Albus had never felt before. All he wanted was Scorpius to smile at him again. It had been two days too many.

"This way," Rose directed, as if Albus had much of a choice than to go with her as she still gripped his wrist. She pulled him down a side lane off of the high street, her bushy hair bouncing as she practically skipped around the corner. Meanwhile, Albus struggled not to trip over the unevenly cobbled streets, trying not to fall flat on his face.

The lane was far quieter than high street and Albus reckoned the only Hogwarts students to ever step foot on this side of the village had only been lost on their way to the Shrieking Shack. The road was quiet, only a few magpies pecking at the dirt between the cobblestones. The houses off of the main stretch of the village were far more tired looking, the peaked rooves sinking slightly, wooden shutters crooked and about ready to fall, and hedges untrimmed with tendrils sticking out in odd directions. It was far from dilapidated but it definitely showed its wear. For being around thousands of years, it was quite likely that magic was the only reason these houses had survived the brutal Scottish weather, several wizarding wars and uprisings, and all the other natural damage the old village encountered.

"Where are we going, Rose?" Albus questioned, trying to take in the unfamiliar street. Rose was often flooded with spurts of crazed energy or hyper fixated on grand ideas, and Albus was beginning to wonder if she had gone truly mad this time.

"Here," Rose came to a sudden halt, almost sending Albus crashing into her.

As soon as Albus collected himself, straitening out his cloak and hair, he looked at where Rose had brought him. It looked just like any ordinary Hogsmeade home, two-stories built of stone, nestled tightly between its neighbours with not so much as a front garden for itself. Nothing about it seemed unique of out of the ordinary which made Albus wonder what exactly he was supposed to be looking at.

Luckily for him, Rose could sense his confusion, helping him by pointing to the postbox next to the door. Inscribed in golden paint against the black metal read the name "Parr".

Parr. Parr. Albus tried to figure out where he knew that name.

"Wait, Parr as in, Kristoffer Parr? That man who was murdered?" Albus jerked his head to look at Rose, his eyes widening as he was reminded of the case they were working. The first of the three murders had been a Hogsmeade man. Albus should have known why Rose had wanted to see him so urgently.

"Precisely!" Rose said, all too excited to be at the home of a dead man. She clasped her hands together, rubbing them together as if an idea was formulating in her head. An almost mischevious look glinted in her eye causing Albus to grow nervous.

"Right..." Albus said slowly, almost hesitant to ask. "So, why exactly have you dragged me here? Just to show me where he lived?"

She scrunched up her nose at the ridiculous suggestion, "No, of course not! We're here for information."