HP Magic Biography

Bathilda is now a very old woman, strictly speaking, among witches, she is counted as the long-lived group.

And, as Muriel puts it, she's crazy.

Is it possible that Dumbledore asked her to hide the sword of Gryffindor? If so, Harry felt that Dumbledore left a lot of variables.

Dumbledore never showed that he would put a fake sword in its place, much less his friendship with Bathilda.

But in any case, now was not the time to doubt Hermione's claims; nor was it time to ask when her thoughts were surprisingly aligned with his own.

Harry raised his head and glanced at Fan Lin inadvertently. Under the twinkling eyes of the two, Harry immediately confirmed his thoughts.

Yes, he might! So, are we going to Godric's Hollow?

Of course, but we'll have to think it through, Harry. Hermione sat up, and Harry was sure the new plan had rekindled her enthusiasm, as had his own.

We need to practice apparating in the cloak together...

Not only that, but as a start... the Disillusionment spell might make sense as well, unless you think we're going to go out on Polyjuice Potion? If that's the case we'd need to collect someone's hair. Actually I think we'd better If we don't do this, the bigger we have to move, the more likely we will cause trouble. Fan Lin added.

That's right, but just in case, I think we still need to prepare some Muggle hair, at least it can help us change our appearance... Besides, I'm afraid we have to be prepared to be exposed. Hermione paused slightly After a pause, God knows how many people Voldemort will leave there waiting for us...

Harry didn't interrupt, just letting Hermione continue, nodding in agreement at every pause, but his attention had long since left the conversation.

It was the first time he'd been excited since discovering that the sword was an illusion in Gringotts.

Had it not been for Voldemort, Harry would have grown up in Godric's Hollow and spent every holiday. He could have invited his friends over...maybe even a brother or sister...his seventeenth birthday cake would have been baked by his mother.

When he finds out that he is going back to the place that belongs to him, the life he lost has never been presented to him in such a real way.

However, inexplicably, Harry became a little apprehensive, because when he really decided to go,

Harry was a little scared again.

He has been there countless times in his dreams, but these are all bad memories.

That night, after Van Lin and Hermione fell asleep, Harry quietly took out his canvas bag from Hermione's pearl bag, the innermost part of which was the photo album that Hagrid had given him a long time ago.

For the first time in months, Harry looked seriously at old photos of his parents, smiling and waving, a past he could no longer have.

Harry would be delighted to set off for Godric's Hollow the next morning. But Hermione had other ideas, convinced that Voldemort must be expecting Harry to return to the site of his parents' deaths, and insisted that they should only go if their disguise was impeccable.

So they were a whole week late...they got hair from innocent Muggles who were doing Christmas shopping, and practiced Apparation together under the cloak, and Fanlin taught them how to use the Disillusionment spell faster, after all the invisibility cloak It's just a foreign object, they can't wear it all the time...

All the training that Hermione insisted on.

They had to be visible after night fell over the village, so they swallowed the Polyjuice Potion at dusk.

Harry turned into a bald, middle-aged Muggle male, Hermione turned into his thin, mouse-like wife, and Fan Lin used Animagus directly. On one person, this would have seemed odd.

Hermione stuffed the beaded bag containing all their belongings into the pocket of her coat, holding Fanlin's transformed white cat in her arms all the time, then Harry covered the two of them with the invisibility cloak, and then they entered the scary place again. In the suffocating darkness.

The apparition this time seemed particularly long, and the oppressive feeling brought about by traveling across space made the three of them uncomfortable.

This reminded Fan Lin of the last time, when he apparated directly from the outskirts of London to the Vatican, that was probably the worst trip ever.

When they opened their eyes again, Harry could clearly feel his heart pounding in his throat.

Hermione had one hand on Harry's arm and her pet in the other. The two of them stood on the snow-covered country road, and the stars shone faintly in the dark blue sky.

Cottages line the narrow roads, Christmas ornaments flicker in the windows, and not far ahead, golden street lights point to the center of the village.

Oh my God, there's snow everywhere! whispered Hermione from under her cloak. Why didn't we take snow into account? With all the precautions we've taken, we're still going to leave footprints! We have to get rid of the snow. Get rid of them... you go first, I'll clean it up...

Harry didn't want to go into the village like a pantomime horse, in fact, that would be stupid, wouldn't it.

Take off the Invisibility Cloak, Harry said calmly, seeing Hermione's horrified expression, Oh, take it off, we don't look like ourselves, and there's no one around here.

Harry put the Invisibility Cloak back into his jacket and began to walk forward without any hindrance.

The cold air stung their faces. They passed more cottages, each of which might have been where James and Lily had once lived, or where Bagshot was now.

Harry stared at the front doors, the snow-covered roof, and the front porch, wondering if he could remember something, but deep down he knew it couldn't be, because he had left for good when he was a little over a year old here.

Harry wasn't even sure if he could still see the house, he wondered what would happen to the Fidelity Charm if the entire hidden object disappeared.

At this time, their path had turned to the left, and in the center of the village, a small square appeared before them.

In the middle of the square there looked like a war memorial, decorated with colored lights, partly hidden in the shadow of the wind-slanted Christmas tree. Nearby are a few shops, a post office, a tavern and a small church whose stained-glass windows illuminate the square with jewel-like brilliance.

The snow here is starting to get solid: hard and smooth after a day of people walking. The villagers made the sign of the cross on their chests, and their silhouettes were simple and clear in the street lamps.

In the distance, the three heard a burst of laughter, pop music, the opening and closing of the tavern door, and then carols from the church.

Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve! said Hermione.

Really? He had lost track of time, and they hadn't read a newspaper in weeks.

Fan Lin gently arched Hermione with his head, and let out a soft cry.

I'm sure, Hermione said softly, pulling out her hands to smooth Fan Lin's hair.

Hermione looked across the church. They...they'll be there, won't they? Your mum and dad? I can see the graveyard behind the church.

Harry shivered, feeling more like fear than excitement. It was so close now that he wondered if he really wanted to see it at all. Maybe Hermione could understand how he felt because she was taking his hand and pulling him forward for the first time.

However, when passing the square, Hermione stopped suddenly.

Harry, look! Hermione pointed at the war memorial.

As they passed, the monument disappeared, and the original obelisk full of people's names was replaced by a group of three statues: a man with tousled hair and glasses; a long-haired woman, friendly and beautiful; A baby boy, sitting in her arms. Their heads were covered with snowflakes, as if they were wearing white velvet hats.

Harry moved closer, gazing into his parents' faces. He had never imagined that there would be a group of statues here... how strange it was to see his own stony face... a happy baby with no scar on his forehead.

Come on, said Harry when he felt satisfied, and they continued towards the church. As they crossed the main road, he looked back, at the group of statues that at one time had become a war memorial.

The singing grew louder as they approached the church. Harry's throat clenched, and the song made him miss Hogwarts even more, the rude carols Peeves sang in his armor, the twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall, and the christmas tree he'd gotten from the colorful firecrackers. Dumbledore in the toque, miss Ron in the hand-knitted sweater...

There is a narrow gate at the entrance to the cemetery.

Hermione pushed it away as gently as she could, and they walked sideways. The path leading to the gate of the church on both sides is covered with thick snow, and no one has ever stepped on it.

They walked across the snow and around the house, hiding in the shadows of the bright windows, leaving deep footprints along the way. Behind the church, there were rows of snow-covered tombstones. Through the stained glass, red, golden, and green spots of light hit the pale blue snow. Harry grabbed the wand in his jacket pocket and walked towards the nearest grave.

Look here, it belongs to the Aibo family. It may have some long-term connection with Hannah's family!

Please keep your voice down, Hermione begged in a low voice.

They gradually trekked into the depths of the cemetery, leaving dark footprints behind them, sometimes stopping to look at the words on the tombstone, and glancing at the dark surroundings from the corner of their eyes from time to time. After making sure that no one was following them, the three continued down.

Harry, here! Hermione was separated from him by two rows of tombstones.

Harry walked towards her with difficulty, his heart beating violently in his chest. That is……?

No, but look here! She pointed to a black stone. Harry looked down at the cold, moss-covered granite, with the dates of her birth and death engraved on it, and a bit below that of Kedra Dumbledore and Her Daughter Ariana typeface.

There is also a line of sacrifice: Where is your treasure, there is your heart.

So Rita Skeeter and Muriel did get some real things. The Dumbledore family did live here, and some family members are buried here.

Seeing the tomb was worse than just hearing about it, and Harry couldn't help thinking that his and Dumbledore's roots were also in this cemetery, and maybe Dumbledore was his neighbor?

They could have visited here together, but unfortunately, that opportunity is no longer available.

For a moment Harry imagined what it would be like to be here with Dumbledore, how much it would mean to him. But perhaps to Dumbledore, it seemed an unimportant coincidence that their families stood side by side in the graveyard, and perhaps, it had nothing to do with the mission he had given Harry.

Hermione looked at Harry, and Harry was grateful that his face was hidden in the shadows. He read the words on the tombstone again: Where is your treasure, there is your heart.

In fact, Harry didn't understand what those words meant. But it is certain that Dumbledore, the oldest member of the family after his mother died, chose them as his epitaph.

Are you sure he never mentioned it... Hermione began to speak, looking at Fan Lin uncertainly.

The white cat in his arms nodded very humanely, then jumped down.

I'm sure. Harry replied curtly, Let's keep looking.

Then Harry turned and walked away, wishing he had never looked at the stone: he didn't want resentment to cloud his excitement.

Here! Hermione screamed again in the darkness a moment later.

What's wrong?

Sorry, I thought it was... Halfway through Hermione's words, Harry walked away dejectedly.

Wait a minute, Harry, come back again.

Not wanting to be led by the nose again, Harry forced his way across the snow towards her.

what?

Look at this! The tombstone was so old that the weathered Harry couldn't make out the name on it. Hermione pointed to the symbol below.

Harry, this is the symbol on that book!

Harry stared at where she was pointing: the tombstone was too worn, too old to make out what had been inscribed there, although there did appear to be a triangular mark underneath the vague name.

Yes... probably...

Hermione pointed at the writing on the headstone with her wand lit.

That's Iggy Ignoth, I think so...

I'm going to find my parents, okay? Harry said to her a little sharply, and then set off again, leaving behind Hermione and Van Lin... more precisely, one person and one cat Crouching by an old gravestone.

Now and then Harry would find some familiar surnames, like Abbott, whom he had seen at Hogwarts.

There are too many people buried here.

Sometimes the names of several generations of wizarding families appear at the same time in the cemetery: Harry can tell by the date whether the family has become extinct, or if current members have emigrated from Godric's Hollow.

Harry walked farther and farther, and each time he reached a new headstone, he felt a little apprehension and anticipation.

The darkness and silence seemed to come suddenly, Harry looked around worriedly, suspecting that it was the attack of dementors. Then realized that the Christmas carols were over, that the chatterers and worshipers were drifting away, that the lights had just been put out in the church.

Then Hermione's voice came out of the darkness for the third time, sharp and clear a few yards away.

Harry, they're here... right here.

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