“no.”harryholdsthesrollouttohim,theowlhootingbalefullyatthewindow,waitingforoneofthemtosignthesrapofpapersayingthatitwasreeivedanduood.“it’saddressedtoyou.”

harrywantedtoknowwhatwasinsideasbadlyasheneededtokeepbreathing,buthealsodidn’thavealuewhatitmightontain,andashewathedtheemotionsflikedarossdrao’sfae,herealizedthatmaybehedidn’twantto.

“what?”draothrewtheparhmentdowntothetableindisgustandharryrippeditup.“what’swrong?”

“they’velearedthemanor.”drao’shandswereshakingagain.harryhadthoughtitwasgettingbetter.“allevidenehasbeenremoved,everythinggeroustakenout,andthepropertyisreturnedtotheonlyofkinwithalearname.”histonemadeitlearwhathethoughtaboutallofthis,drippinginderision.“me.”

harrydidn’tknowwhatwasupsettinghimsomuh,ifitwasthemanorandthememoriesitheld,ofthefatthattheministryhadtheaudaitytoimitastheirowninthesakeofjustie,ormaybeitwasthefatthattheyonsideredhimwiththebestreputation.

“that’sagoodthing,right?”hefeltlikehewastreadingintounknownwaters,wherehewon’tknowhowdeepitgoesuntilhetakesthestepoffsolidgroundandfallsdownintothedeep.heneverhadlearnedtoswim.“tohaveyourhomebak?”

draolookedathimlikehewasstupid,thenthrewthatsrapofparhmentintothefire,notrexinguntilheseestheornersundbken.“youan’tgohomeagain,harry.”hepassedbehindhimandppedahanddownonhisshoulderinawaythatmighthaveonsideredfriendly,hadtheynotbeenhalfasleepwiththeirarmsedaroundeahotheronlyhoursbefore.“notevensurei’dwantto.”

drao

’tgohomeagainharry,draohadsaid,leavingtheroomlikehewasleavingreallifebehind,likewalkingawayfromaproblemwasthesamethingassolvingit.

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