After the Christmas banquet in the little town concluded.
Under the cover of night, Harry and Ginny returned to Godric's Hollow, to the Potter family's ancestral home.
It was a modest manor, not particularly vast in its grounds. The layout and furnishings of the rooms remained completely frozen in the 1970s. Admittedly, the place appeared somewhat dated, but once thoroughly cleaned, it exuded a timeless, welcoming warmth.
---
Inside the room.
Ginny took off her coat, casually hanging it on the rack behind the door before walking over to the sofa and plopping down beside Harry.
"Do not try to lie to me. That 'Time' candy shop and that middle-aged couple, you recognized them, did you not?"
Ginny asked softly. She had noticed her husband's unusual behavior earlier that evening. It was hard to believe an experienced Auror would space out like that without a very good reason.
Beside her, Harry did not answer his wife's question immediately. Instead, he looked up at the only portrait in the room, a painting of his grandfather, Fleamont Potter.
"Ginny, where do you think a soul goes after a person dies?"
From that single short sentence, Ginny instantly sensed something was wrong. She grabbed Harry's hand, asking with a grave expression, "What exactly happened?"
"Nothing is wrong. I am perfectly fine," Harry replied, shaking his head gently.
He knew exactly what his wife was worried about and instinctively brushed aside his messy fringe, revealing his smooth, unblemished forehead.
Seeing this, Ginny quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Hearing him suddenly talk about souls had genuinely frightened her.
However, before Ginny could fully process her relief, Harry's voice sounded again. "I was just thinking that souls must always have a destination."
Harry's tone was filled with absolute certainty. Perhaps he would not have been so sure in the past, but the events of Halloween seven years ago had changed his perspective entirely. That brief trance during the feast, and standing in that pure white station watching that hideous infant turn to ash, made it abundantly clear to him that souls indeed had a place to go.
Harry kept his gaze fixed on his grandfather's portrait. Inside the frame, the elderly man was currently waving enthusiastically in greeting.
His deep longing for his parents ensured he never stopped pondering the nature of souls. It was a subject he had never mentioned to anyone, yet the thought was undeniably, constantly present in his mind.
Ever since he first entered Hogwarts, this line of inquiry had never ceased. He once thought they lived on within a small photograph, then believed their souls resided within the magnificent Mirror of Erised, and finally realized they might exist within his dreams.
But today, he had a completely different thought.
Perhaps their souls resided in a little town, right inside a small candy shop.
---
After listening to his entire explanation, Ginny fell into a brief silence.
Rationally, she was uncertain of its truthfulness, but emotionally, she was more than willing to believe it. She wanted to believe that the middle-aged couple could very well be her husband's parents.
A long moment passed.
"Why do you not just go and ask Ino directly?" Ginny asked, a bit of curiosity slipping into her voice.
But the moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. How could Harry possibly have missed such a simple solution?
Sure enough, Harry simply shook his head slightly.
"There would be no answer. If there were meant to be an answer, they would not have changed their appearances, nor would they have pretended not to know me."
As he spoke, Harry reached up to his collar, touching a necklace made from an ordinary whiskey bottle cork. His fingers brushed lightly against the stopper. His movements were gentle and incredibly careful, treating the object as if it were a priceless, peerless gemstone.
---
A moment later.
Harry suddenly froze.
The tactile sensation against his fingers caused him to swiftly unfasten the necklace, bringing the cork close to his eyes to examine it carefully.
Upon the surface of the one-inch cork, two lines of embossed letters had distinctly appeared:
'Do not think too much. You have your own life to live.'
'Kid, you have great taste. She is beautiful.'
Beside him, Ginny watched quietly as her husband stared blankly at the cork. She knew exactly what that object meant to him.
But soon, she noticed something different. It was the exact same cork as before, yet Harry was staring at it much longer and far more intently than usual.
Without him even realizing it, the corners of Harry's eyes had grown damp.
Sensing her husband's vulnerability, Ginny opened her arms and gently pulled him into an embrace, holding him as comfortingly as she would a young child.
"Do not think too much about it. I am right here with you."
Ginny murmured her comforting words, the tone and message eerily similar to the text on the cork.
At that moment, Harry could no longer hold back the well of tears in his eyes, letting them fall silently down his cheeks. Though he was crying, there was no sadness or sorrow etched on his face.
"Thank you, Ginny."
Leaning against Ginny's embrace, Harry quietly closed his eyes.
---
The vintage room was quiet and warm. The burning fireplace crackled softly, filling the space with the comforting sound of a campfire.
Perhaps sensing the happiness in the room, Fleamont Potter in the portrait offered a deeply gratified smile. The elderly man sat in his painted chair, silently watching the heartwarming scene unfold before him.
At the same time.
Snow suddenly began to fall over Godric's Hollow.
Falling snow actually has a sound, much like the sound of a flower blooming, though many people subconsciously ignore it. Flake after flake drifted down from the sky, producing an incredibly faint rustling noise against the glass.
---
At some point, Harry opened his eyes again.
Through the windowpane, he saw that the outdoors had been blanketed in a pristine layer of silvery white.
Outside the window was a cold, flawlessly white world; inside the window was a warm, blissful room illuminated by a crackling fireplace. Although both were located in Godric's Hollow, this single, small window separated two entirely different worlds.
In this moment, Harry finally understood the true weight of the message left on the bottle stopper.
Similarly, he found himself looking forward to next year's Christmas with immense anticipation, because the Fairy Tale Town would only open its magical doors during the Christmas season.
---
A long while later.
Harry looked affectionately at Ginny beside him.
For exactly fourteen years, ever since they started school, the girl by his side had never abandoned him, standing steadfastly with him through every trial.
'My taste is pretty great indeed.'
Harry lightly touched the cork hanging from his neck, a blissful smile gracing his face.
"Ginny, let us head upstairs to rest. Even though tomorrow is a holiday, it is getting far too late."
Hearing this, Ginny could not help but glance at the grandfather clock nearby. Before they knew it, the time had already slipped past midnight.
"Yes, let us rest. We still need to visit the Burrow tomorrow morning. My parents want to host a gathering, and all my brothers will be attending."
Ginny stood up as she spoke. Perhaps due to staying in one position for too long, she lost her balance the moment she stood and instinctively stumbled backward.
But soon, she felt a solid presence behind her, stopping her backward momentum securely like an immovable wall.
Before Ginny could even react, she suddenly found her feet leaving the floor. Feeling herself being swept up into his arms, Ginny's mind was already starting to aggressively calculate what kind of excuse she could possibly use to properly explain their inevitable tardiness to the family gathering tomorrow.
---
In the living room.
With Harry and Ginny gone, the entire room descended back into absolute silence.
Only Fleamont Potter in his portrait remained, sitting quietly alone in his chair. Through that eternal windowpane, his painted eyes gazed out at the scenery outside.
The snow on this Christmas night seemed to be falling heavier and heavier. The vast, white expanse, bathed in the glow of the moonlight, looked profoundly cold yet undeniably beautiful.