Ch12- Old Photos

Ch12- Old Photos

discord.gg/q5KWmtQARFCHeCk for new stories on no/v/el/bin(.)c0m

Join my Discord!

To Harry's utter surprise, the next day, Petunia unexpectedly called him into the living room. She held an old photograph, her fingers trembling slightly as she extended it towards him. The picture, slightly faded with time, captured a woman and a man. Harry's breath hitched; the woman had the greenest of eyes, exuding a serene beauty, and her smile radiated a pure, untainted joy. Beside her, a man with a cocky smile and glasses, exuded a certain rogue charm. Harry's eyes watered, a surge of emotions engulfing him, though he couldn't quite grasp why.

Seeing the unguarded emotion on Harry's face, a flicker of something – perhaps regret or a long-suppressed empathy – crossed Petunia's face. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, her features resettling into their usual stern expression.

Nigel's voice, laced with a hint of irony, whispered in Harry's mind, "Ah, Master Harry, the walls of Jericho are starting to show cracks. But remember, a fortress doesn't fall with the first trumpet blast."

Harry, clutching the photograph, looked up at his aunt. "Who are they, Aunt Petunia?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Petunia hesitated, her eyes darting away from Harry's gaze. "They... they were your parents, Harry," she said, her voice tight, as if the words were being dragged out of her.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "My parents..." he repeated softly, his eyes glued to the picture.

Nigel's voice was gentle yet incisive in Harry's mind. "Tread carefully, Harry. This is hallowed ground you're stepping on. Use this moment wisely."

Harry, sensing the opportunity, said, "I've never seen them before. They look... happy." He looked up at Petunia, searching for a connection, a shared sentiment.

Petunia's lips thinned. "That was a long time ago. Things were different then," she said, her voice laced with a mix of bitterness and nostalgia.

Nigel, ever the strategist, suggested, "Now's the time to bridge the gap, Master Harry. Appeal to her memories, her lost dreams."

Harry gently prodded, "You knew them well, didn't you, Aunt Petunia? What were they like?"

Petunia turned away, her body language closed off. "I don't want to talk about it, Harry. It's in the past."

Nigel's voice was a mixture of encouragement and caution. "Persistence, Harry, but with finesse. You're walking a tightrope here."

With his newfound resolve, Harry planned his next move. He knew his knowledge about his mother, Lily, was limited, so he decided to engage Aunt Petunia in conversation about her, carefully observing her reactions and emotions. It was a challenging task, given his limited experience in reading emotions, but with his mind now functioning like an advanced computer, he could analyze and rewatch any memory in detail.

One evening, while helping Petunia with the dishes, Harry cautiously broached the subject. "Aunt Petunia, you mentioned Mum was special. Could you tell me more about her?"

Petunia's hands stilled for a moment, a flicker of something crossing her face before she regained her composure. "There's not much to tell, Harry. She was your mother, and she was ... That's all."

Harry observed her closely. Her words were dismissive, but her eyes darted away briefly, a sign of discomfort. Her jaw tensed, indicating she was holding back emotions. Nigel's voice echoed in Harry's mind, "Observe the nuances, Master Harry. The devil, as they say, is in the details."

Undeterred, Harry pressed on gently, "But you grew up together, didn't you? You must have shared some happy moments."

Petunia paused, her expression hardening. "I don't see why that's any of your concern."

Nigel's voice was a blend of encouragement and realism, "Persistence, Harry. But remember, subtlety is key. Don't push too hard."

Over the next few days, Harry tried different approaches to get Petunia to open up. He shared anecdotes from school, hoping to trigger her memories of Lily. He even brought up a school project on family history, subtly steering the conversation towards their shared past.

Each attempt was met with resistance. Petunia's walls were high, built from years of resentment and pain. Her reactions were guarded, her responses brief. But Harry noticed small cracks in her armor. A distant look when he mentioned a childhood memory, a slight softening of her eyes when he talked about missing his parents.

Nigel's strategic advice was invaluable. "Consider your approach as laying a siege, Master Harry. You're not storming the castle; you're surrounding it, waiting for the right moment to enter."

--

Please rate and review! Much appreciated! Leave a comment, tell me what you think!

To Read up to 50 advance Chapters (25 for each novel) and suppot me...

/thefanficgod1

Please drop a comment and like the chapter!