Harry pushed back the mop of hair across his scar. It hadn’t burnt in an age, but the memory, the shadow of the pain was still there. It always would be.

He saw Molly’s pristine apron and head maid pin, right above her heart. How she managed to look so neat and polished without magic, he’d never know. Not a speck of dust remained in the room, it was in a state of perfection.

Molly looked at th...