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(Inaway,walkingawayfromthishousefeltlikethefinalatofsayinggoodbyetoallthoseghostshehadbeenafraidoffaing.Thefirststeptowthroughthegriefhehadignored,wherehewalksthroughroomsinthehouseandgreetsmemorieslikeoldfriends—ofSirius,ofFred,ofMadEye,Remus,Tonks,evenDobby,likethishousewasthebadpartsofthosememories,theraw,bloodypartsthatarestillsabbingover,andoneHarrywalksoutofthispeforgood,thememorieswilleasetheirahing,turnbittersweetinsteadofthewhitehotburningtheyarenow.)

That’snottosayit’sbeeneasy.JustasthehousehadfoughtagainsttheleaningrewbakinHarry’sfifthyear,itwasfightingagainstthemnow,likeitouldsensethatwhenHarryandDraodragtheirboxesoutthedoor,itwouldbeshutin,lefttofallintoderelitionanddisrepair.Harryhadpikeduptherusadeagainstitsmanyroomsalloveragain,andtogether,heandDraohadtorntheheadsofhouseelvesfromthewall(theyburiedthemintheruinsoftheMalfoygarden,beauseHarryouldnotstandtheatofjustthrowingtheminthegarbagelikeRonhadurgedthemto,notunderKreaher’swathfuleyeandHermione’sgre),brokenintoboardeduplosetstoleartheshelvesofanythinggerous,andsealeduptheelrforgood,untilitwasnothingbutanold,reakinghousewithnothinglefttooffertheworld.

Evenifhetriedtosell,Harrywasn’tsurethattherewouldbeanyonerazyenoughtobuyit.Thethoughtfillshimwithalittlebitofjoy,likehehaddonerightbySiriusafterall.

(It’ssortofafukyou,too.Like,hey,paintingofSirius’razymother,rememberwhenyouwouldyellaboutmudbloodsandtraitorsandfilth?Nowyouansreamallyoulike,untilthepaintfadesandtheaperpeelsandyouarenothingbutrot,noonewillhearyou,thoughitisanewlevelofrazytoseekrevengeagainstapainting.)

“Maybeyou’vejustgottenbigger.”Draogrinsupfromhisspotonthefloor,surroundedbyemptyboxesandpileofrubbishthattheyweregivingawayandthatalwayspresenttapedispenser.“Toogrownupforitnow.”

Yes,Harrythought,kneelingontheouhushionabovehimandbendingoversoheanhugDraofrombehind,thatmustbeit.

Drao

Asthehouseempties,beomingmoreandmorelikeanewpealtogether,Draoisfindingithardtosleepagain.

Hehidesit,beausehedoesnotwantHarrytoworry.It’snotsomethingtoworryabout,justasideeffetofthehouselookinglikesomepeompletelynew,withnewsmellsandsoundsandnoneoftheoldomfortsitusedtohold,andnownoteventhesoundofHarry’sbreathingandtheoldtrikofountingtheraksspiralingovertheeilingsenoughtolullhimbaktothealm,soeventhoughDraohadprom

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