LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 155: That Belongs to the Goblins!
On the way back to Godric's Hollow, Harry and Sirius discussed the kinds of enchantments that could be applied to a flying motorcycle.
As they landed in the valley, Harry was sure of one thing: his godfather relied entirely on muscle memory.
Sirius rambled endlessly, constantly changing his ideas—at one point, he even suggested attaching a wand to the motorcycle that would automatically cast spells like Confringo or Bombarda to blow things up.
In short, Sirius wasn't much help when it came to Harry's own flying motorcycle project.
The Potter family home looked completely different now.
The overgrown weeds in the yard had been cleared, and the crumbling stone walls had been repaired. The patchwork repair job was so meticulous that it blended seamlessly into the rest of the house, making it look as though the explosion from thirteen years ago had never happened.
The front door opened.
The house was warmly lit, and the faint smell of cream soup, fried fish, and chips wafted out from the kitchen.
Sirius parked the motorcycle in the yard and followed Harry inside.
Someone was home.
Remus Lupin stood by the dining table, wand in hand, casting a warming charm over the food to keep it hot.
"Ah, I thought you two wouldn't be back tonight," Lupin said coldly, with a subtle nod.
"We ran into a few unexpected complications," Sirius said, holding up his thumb and index finger to show a tiny gap. "We got a bit delayed."
Lupin snorted and nodded slowly.
Sirius set his helmet on the table. "I forgot to think about how Hagrid would get home. So, I had to drop him off at the Leaky Cauldron before coming back with Harry."
"That sounds exactly like something you'd do," Lupin sighed. "Anyway, sit down and have some supper."
Harry sat at the table, picked up a fried potato, and took a bite. He chewed thoughtfully, grimacing slightly before swallowing.
"Uncle Remus… haven't you been living alone for many years?"
Lupin took a seat as well, nodding. "Yes. Why?"
Harry frowned, struggling to find the right words. "Then… why does your cooking taste…"
His sentence trailed off, as though no polite description came to mind.
Lupin froze.
Sirius took a bite of fried chips, chewed with effort, and nodded. "It's nothing like Aunt Petunia's cooking."
"Yeah, my aunt's cooking is much better," Harry agreed, taking another bite.
Lupin's expression darkened, muttering under his breath.
Sure, he had lived alone for many years, but he had never settled in one place. He had no stable job, and meals were hit or miss. He often relied on friends for food—or went hungry.
Cooking? That wasn't exactly a skill he had.
Sirius grabbed a stiff fried chip, wielding it like a sword, and challenged Lupin to a duel with it.
Meanwhile, Harry silently continued eating. The food was awful, but he endured it. He even sensed a faint trace of poisonous mushrooms in the dish—likely from Lupin using the wrong ingredient.
Still, it was the thought that counted.
The portraits of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter hung on the wall, watching the three men with gentle, nostalgic smiles.
For the first time in over a decade, the Potter house felt like a home again.
The night passed with arguments and laughter.
It wasn't until nearly midnight that Lupin and Sirius finally went to bed.
The Next Morning
Lupin woke with a groan, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled out of his room. He immediately heard noises coming from the kitchen.
His heart sank.
Sirius in the kitchen? That couldn't be good.
With a burst of anxiety, he quickened his pace, hurrying to prevent disaster.
When Lupin reached the kitchen, he froze.
It wasn't Sirius in the kitchen.
It was Harry.
Harry stood at the stove, wand in hand, effortlessly flipping sausages and eggs in a sizzling pan. The food crackled and popped with oil, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.
Slices of bread toasted to a perfect golden brown in another pan.
Harry turned, flashing a calm smile without missing a beat. "Good morning, Uncle Remus."
"Good morning," Lupin replied, staring in disbelief.
"You rushed over because you thought Sirius was cooking, didn't you?" Harry chuckled, flicking his wand to move perfectly cooked eggs onto a slice of bread. Sliced sausages, tomatoes, and onions followed in quick succession, forming a neat sandwich before flying onto a plate.
"Well… he is your godfather," Lupin admitted sheepishly. "But… I didn't expect you to be so good at food magic."
Harry shrugged. "It's all in Godric Gryffindor's notes."
Lupin blinked. Wait… what?
"Gryffindor's notes?"
Harry nodded, as though it were obvious.
Lupin frowned. "His notes… contain cooking spells?"
Harry grinned. "Of course. Practical magic."
Lupin conjured a plate, sending the sandwich outside to the garden table.
"I expected Sirius to become more responsible over time," he sighed, sitting down.
Harry smirked. "Everyone has their own way of doing things."
"His way works for him. I'm not exactly a helpless baby who needs constant care."
Lupin snorted. "At this rate, he should be calling you his godfather."
Harry pointed his wand toward Sirius's bedroom.
SWISH!
A moment later, Sirius was dragged out of his room, still in dog form. His collar tightened as he floated midair, sleepy and disoriented, before crashing onto the living room couch.
"Scourgify!"
Harry flicked his wand, cleaning Sirius from head to toe.
Sirius groaned, stretching lazily as he transformed back into human form. "Breakfast… please tell me Lupin didn't make it."
Lupin scowled.
Harry calmly sat down at the table. "No. I made it. Now sit down—we've got work to do today."
After a few bites, Sirius sighed.
"Work? Already?"
"Yes," Harry said. "I need to repair my armor, and visit Professor Flitwick. Did you tell him about summer tutoring?"
Sirius groaned, reluctantly nodding.
Harry pressed on.
"We have less than a month before school starts. Three weeks, to be exact. And the Quidditch World Cup will take up part of that time."
"Three weeks, Sirius. We can't afford to waste time."
Sirius looked at his half-eaten sandwich, suddenly losing his appetite.
"Can't we rest for one more day?" he pleaded.
Harry simply stared at him.
Sirius groaned. "Fine. You win."
After breakfast, they left for the forge.
Lupin stayed behind to tidy the house before heading to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop George and Fred had just opened.
At the forge, they met Hork and Legnack, who welcomed Harry warmly.
"You've come to fix your armor?" Hork asked eagerly.
Harry nodded.
But Legnack growled, stepping forward with narrowed eyes.
"The Sword of Gryffindor—" he snarled. "It belongs to the goblins. To me!"
Harry's eyes hardened.
"I respect you, Legnack," he said softly.
"But you'll need to take back what you just said."
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Powerstones?
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