Albert Dock in Liverpool was Liverpool's most famous scenic area. Surrounded by the beautiful Liverpool Eye and The Beatles Museum, it gave people a sense of peace and tranquility at every moment.
But during the Victorian era, one-third of the world's enslaved Black people had been shipped from here aboard vessels bound for the Americas.
A twenty-minute walk from the dock brought one to the Titanic memorial. The starting point of the ship of dreams' maiden voyage had been the Port of Liverpool.
After the Titanic sank on April 14, 1912, many passengers' families gathered at the headquarters of the White Star Line on James Street in Liverpool, waiting for news of their loved ones.
The Titanic disaster led to the bankruptcy of the White Star Line, and its headquarters building was abandoned. It was not until property developer Lawrence Kenwright took it over that it was converted into sixty-three guest rooms, all furnished in the style of the Titanic from that era.
Pomona strolled through the deserted dock, eating fish and chips as she went.
"Come out, Kreacher. There's no one here now," Pomona said.
With a pop, the house-elf appeared. He looked just as dejected as she did.
"Want some?" She generously held out her fried fish to Kreacher.
"No, thank you. Wait." Kreacher changed his mind, picked out the smallest piece of fish, and put it in his mouth to chew.
Pomona let out a long sigh.
The Chinese said that one day apart felt like three autumns. She had only been separated from Severus for three hours, yet she was already starting to miss him.
There were twenty-four hours in a day. Every eight hours counted as a year, so three hours meant nearly half a year.
The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl only met once