The brightly colored Saltbox
had been occupied by only the older Bagshot widow for many years since the passing of her husband. She had not been close with the Dumbledores, but she was close enough to send gift baskets and check in every now and then. On her last visit she said she would have a relative moving in soon, a young man 'about your age, Albus'. She had the same pitying eyes as everyone else.
Within a week, one bright sunny weekend morning, there was a new resident oblivious to the recent tragedy in the Dumbledore home. He walked down the street, bag levitating along behind him as he strolled in the morning sunlight, breathing in the fresh England air of the countryside. His graying robes contrasted sharply with his golden curls and fair skin, eyes scanning every house he passed on the way to his great-aunt's.