[HP Doujin] 1943

Second by second, minute by minute, like the snow on the river bank, time accumulates little by little; the silence is vast and wide, slowly deepening around me.

What a peaceful summer night it was.

At Stuart Manor, the unchanging daily routine is one of the old heritage of the house.As usual, after dinner, Francis and the other men stayed in the dining room, drinking a selection of whiskeys and smoking a few good cigars, while discussing the boring and long-winded business of the Ministry of Magic.And I went back to the living room.If there are other female guests, they also go to the living room with me.

I'm glad I'm alone tonight.I stood in front of the French windows, tilting my head, listening to the rustle of oak and laurel in the evening wind, and patiently waiting for a mild migraine to pass.

The clock on the mantelpiece struck six.I straightened my pleated silk dress, sat back on the sofa, and waited for the nanny to bring Melinda, Eleanor, and Charles to me.

Every day after dinner, I see my kids at six o'clock.The nanny would tell me how they were doing, and sometimes the nurse would come along too.Occasionally the governess also comes over.She was a shy, stiffly blond French girl, small and affable.She would tell me about Melinda's progress with her French and rune vocabulary recitation.

But tonight they were late, so I went upstairs to the nursery myself.As expected, Charles wet the bed and was howling for some reason.Eleanor was sitting on the floor drawing, and Melinda, the stern-looking five-year-old, was sitting gracefully on her stile with a picture book sorting brooms on her lap.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Stuart," said the nurse, frowning, "that the young master is out of temper, and I don't understand him."

I lifted the noisy little creature out of its cradle and held it close to my breast.

"Is he hungry?" I asked.

"I nursed Master Charles only half an hour ago," said the nurse.At this time the nurse came in, looking nervous and at a loss.

Poor Charles, I thought, this kid has never been so reassuring as Melinda.

"It's okay," I said softly, "he's just insecure. Cary, give Melinda her rabbit-fur cape. And pass me that wool blanket, please?"

Our Scottish nanny, Carrie, looked worried: "Mrs. Stuart, are you going to take Miss and Master for a walk on the Moor?"

"Don't worry," I said, "you haven't had your supper yet, have you? Go to the kitchen first, and the house-elf will warm you up some soup, and I'll bring the children back to bed in half an hour."

"Thank you, Mrs. Stuart," said Carrie gratefully, and hurried away.These two children must have worn her out.Maybe I should talk to Francis about hiring another nanny to take care of Melinda just to take care of her.He will have no objection.

I hugged Charles, took Melinda and Eleanor, and walked to the balcony of the north wing facing the sea and the reef.

It's so quiet up here.The cool summer evening breeze blows across the terrace, carrying the pungent flowery scent of hyacinths from the valley to the south, the pine needles from the valley beyond in the lowlands, and the salty seawater from the bay.For a while we heard nothing but the rhythmic rush of the tide up and down the rocks on the cliffs.Charles grew quiet in my arms.

I spoke softly to my children as the starlight and the light from the lighthouse on the other side of the bay fell on the foggy dark tributaries.

"When you lie in your cozy little bed and close your eyes and try to fall asleep, imagine the gentle waves and the twinkling stars. The sea is as far as the eye can see, as big as it can be, and silent, as if it is the mysterious place of your life. The source. The sea is your cradle, the Milky Way is your roof..." As my thoughts drifted to the depths of my own childhood, my voice gradually lowered and disappeared.In my memory, there is an existence that is dark and full of temptation, silent but tells everything, and repeatedly lures me into the vast darkness of the wasteland of memory.Till I stumble and bleed in the dark, the unreasonable, twisted devil in me still drives me stubbornly, yearning, begging, and howling for a scarlet fiery wild rose that I once had.

"Elizabeth?" Melinda said quietly. "Can you sing that song to me again?"

I smiled at her. "Of course." I said.

Should auldacquaintancebeforgot,

and never brought to mind?

Should auldacquaintancebeforgot,

forthesakeofauldlangsyne.

Forauldlangsang, my dear,

Forauldlangsang,

We'll take acupo' kindness yet,

Forauldlangsang.

In the calm singing and evening wind, we all fell silent.My voice echoes softly, but my mind wanders elsewhere.As I sang, I couldn't help but think of a story I read a long time ago called "The Nightingale and the Rose".

A nightingale fell in love with a young man.The young man wanted a red rose very badly, so that he could take his beloved girl to the ball.In order to fulfill the dream of the young man, the nightingale pressed her breast to the thorns of the rose tree, and sang a song all night in the moonlight.At dawn the thorns of the rose-tree pierced her heart, and her blood--blood of the deepest, holiest, love destined to be fruitless--flowed into the pale rosebud, giving the petal its most amazing Crimson in color.

However, when the young man picked the roses and went to find his beloved girl, the girl had gone away with a man who gave her a precious jewel.So the young man threw the roses on the road.The wagons ran over the petals, and the flowers were swept into the filthy gutters.

Every time I sing this song to my children, my dead love becomes a sharp thorn, piercing my heart again and again, letting the blood soak my soul.

When I look back, I have a strange feeling, as if I've lived long enough, loved enough and hated enough.I only hope to live peacefully, take my children in the countryside, and hope that their life will be better than mine.

I want Melinda to be a beautiful little fool and find a man who loves her more than she loves him so she won't be hurt by love.I wanted Charles to be a brave, careless lad who knew something I didn't—and when you can't get something, just let it be.You can still live happily ever after.

Love is a good thing, but too much and its flames can consume you.

Becca asked me once, "Do you love Mr. Stuart or not?"

I replied flatly: "Love. Anyway, I love him enough for me to make do with him and endure the rest of my life abandoned by God."

******

In 1954, Eleanor and Melinda had both gone to Hogwarts.Eleanor is in second grade and Melinda is in first grade.Like their father, they were both at Gryffindor House.

On school day, Francis and I dropped off the two girls at King's Cross.White steam filled the platform and we waved until the red train disappeared around the bend.

"I have always felt that it is a great regret not to study with you at Hogwarts." Francis said suddenly.

I smiled and said, "The year I entered school, you just graduated."

He thanked him, put his hands in the pockets of his black woolen coat, and looked ahead calmly.I looked at his profile and felt that the lines on his face were much softer than before.Maybe I am the same. After so many years, those self-righteous spirits have long been worn away.Perhaps, it is finally time for me to shake hands and make peace with life.

After dropping off the children he went to the ministry.I went to Edinburgh to tidy up my flat before heading home.I've kept that apartment over the years, partly because of laziness, but because there were marks there that I didn't want to get rid of.

With clear blue skies in late August, I pushed all the apartment windows open, changed the bedspread, and expertly vacuumed the lampshades, sofa, and rug.I don't know when, I also changed from a girl who can't do any housework to a witch who is proficient in various housework spells.As soon as the carpet was re-laid, there was a soft slap at the door. I straightened up and turned around in surprise, and saw Sylvia stumbled in. She pulled down the hood of her cloak and her hair was blown by the wind. Messed up, she went to sit on the couch and left a trail of muddy footprints on the carpet I had just cleaned.

I looked at her in amazement, and her expression looked like weeping: "It's Tom. He lost control and killed several Death Eaters. When he passed out, I pulled his arm like you did back then." Singing to him with his hand. He squeezed my hand so hard that it almost crushed my bones. He woke up and passed out again. During the few minutes he was awake, he said only one word to me, Elizabeth. ,You're back."

I looked at her numbly, the wound in my heart that had been buried for a long time was torn open, and boiling blood gushed out.I took a step back and slumped into the chair, my face pale and weak.

"You must have misheard me," I said, "he hated me so much he almost killed me."

"You know what, Lizzie." She didn't seem to hear me, and went on to herself, with a look of despair and decadence that made her face look not young but weather-beaten, "The song Obviously it was the first time I sang it to him, but in the end he still only remembers you."

She sat on my plaid sofa in front of the window, and depressedly put her hands on her forehead, pushing all the hair on her forehead up.

"Any cigarettes?" she asked me.

I shook my head. "I quit smoking after my second miscarriage."

After hearing my words, Sylvia seemed to be crazy, and suddenly let out a sharp and piercing laugh.The laughter was full of strong irony, contempt, and things I couldn't understand.

"Is he still in touch with you?" I asked stiffly.

"If I tell you, I'm afraid your omnipotent husband will corner Tom again, and hunt him down to the ends of the earth."

"What do you mean?" I said, "We all know what happened that year."

Sylvia let out another harsh mocking laugh: "You know what a fart. You are so well protected that you don't even know what's going on in that dark world outside. Do you think that Francis Stuart Was the attack at the Ministry of Magic really planned by Tom? It was just a bitter trick directed and acted by Stuart himself. It was his way of framing Tom. Dead end."

I stood up suddenly, the torrent of shock ran through my blood.

"But Tom himself told me that he killed his family, the Smiths, who were behind Francis' assassination!"

"Tom did kill the Riddles and the Smiths, but he definitely didn't send Nagini to the Ministry of Magic to attack Francis. Do you think it's Tom's style to attack the Director of International Magical Cooperation in full view? ?Even if he really wanted Francis' life, he would not use such a stupid method!" Sylvia looked at me with a sneer, "Tom has never lost to anyone in his life, he only fell to It is true that when he approached you, his motives were not pure, just like when he approached Margaret and Rosalind, just to use you to coerce others. But gradually I found that something was wrong, He made a lot of unreasonable decisions. According to the plan, he should use the Imperius Curse on you, let you join the Knights like Margaret and Rosalind, and imprint the Dark Mark on your arm, but he didn't When I was in the third grade, I said to him, since you can’t do it, you should stay away from her. He agreed, so your memory was erased. In the fifth grade, you got Margaret’s Cruciatus Curse, and he did The first thing I did was run into your hospital room. Tom was the most sane and calm person I've ever met, but when it came to you he was completely out of his mind. He was injured in a potions accident in sixth grade, Francis, Malfoy, and Tony are all behind the scenes. He should have threatened you to get rid of his enemies at that time, but he didn't. He could have killed you in the cemetery for revenge, but he still didn't. You were killed by the Ministry of Magic When the group of idiots took you to Azkaban as Death Eaters, they had a miscarriage and hemorrhage. Fortunately, I notified Francis in time, so he rushed over and sent you to St. Mungo's, saving your life. Also, to It’s not that Tom insisted on not letting you join the Death Eaters from the beginning to the end. No matter how much Francis covered the sky in the Ministry of Magic, he couldn’t save you, because the group of Aurors would directly kill you if they saw the Dark Mark on your hand. Toss you to the dementors."

She looked at me with her usual disdain and said, "Lizzie, why are you still alive? As long as you're alive, he won't be able to become the Dark Lord. You'll only be dragging him down, and he won't be able to make up his mind to make it." A career."

I asked her, "Then why did you save me?"

Sylvia's long black hair fell to one side of her cold face.She smiled mockingly and said, "If you die, he can't live anymore."

My whole body was shaking violently.

Sylvia continued: "He doesn't want you to run around with him. You forget him, and being with Stuart is the best choice for everyone. If Tom hadn't told you Lie, you may give up on him from now on, live a good life in Stuart Manor? Do you think you have a miserable life? When Tom was forced to lie to you in the cemetery, his heart was bigger than yours. It hurts ten times!"

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"If Tom finds out and I tell you, I'm afraid he'll kill me right away. When he punished me, he wasn't as merciful as he was when he treated you." Sylvia smiled lightly and said, "But I don't care, I don't want to see you comfortably being your Mrs. Stuart when Tom is in danger. I know you coward would not have the guts to go to Tom, and he will never see you. But I Just hope that from now on, you will be tortured every second of the rest of your life by the words I tell you today; I hope that every time you lie next to Stuart, you will think about Tom not being able to sleep I also hope that every time you look at your group of children, you will think of the child that Tom killed with his own hands! I hope you will be tortured until the last second before you die!"

I rushed forward and yelled at her like crazy, "Where is Tom?!"

She pushed me away in disgust, stood up, walked to the door of my apartment, and disappeared with a snap.

The autumn wind was blowing through the window, and the curtains and bedspreads that hadn't had time to hang were flying in the laundry basket, and my tears began to flow like crazy.I fell down on the ground, with my head resting on the armrest of the sofa, a faint golden sunlight came in from the window sill, and there was something shining cold and bright in the woolen wool on the carpet.

It was a platinum camellia, a camellia that never fades.It fell out of my hair and shone beautifully and coldly in the sun.

I cried and cried, and fell asleep on the carpet.

I had a long, long dream. The dream was the Leicester Street in my memory. It seemed to be a long, slow-moving scene in a black-and-white lens. The air was slow, sad, and depressing, stagnating and dispersing. Not to go, deep-rooted poverty and the sour smell of baseness.There are dark red ruins piled up on the street corners, tiny grasses grow out of the gaps, and they fall in the same direction in the cold wind. The sky is tilted, and the dense heavy rain keeps falling, making every fold of the long years They were all drenched, and even people's souls were inadvertently moldy.

The air-raid siren was still ringing in the London sky, and the Muggle radio said that King George and Princess Elizabeth had gone to the north to take refuge. I sat on the corner of the street and listened to the bombing not far away, and the house and the corner of the wall were shaking.I looked up and watched the sun look like a strange pale moon through the thick smog.Tom turned the corner, wearing a white shirt and black jeans, and sat down beside me.He hesitated for a moment, then poked my arm and said, "If you're scared, I can hold you."

I said, "I'm not afraid."

"Didn't you say yesterday that if we were killed in the next second, what would I most regret not doing?" He looked at me, his eyes were black and clear, his eyelashes were long and thick, and there was a hint of warmth.

I remembered that I kissed him yesterday, and turned my head away embarrassedly.

"I thought of the answer." He said, looking at me intently, with a smile on his handsome face, "Be my girlfriend. I will never hurt you. If one day, I have to make For hurting you, I will definitely let myself bear ten times more pain than you."

I flashed him a big smile.I happened to copy a passage of poetry on the parchment that morning, and at that moment I inexplicably remembered a passage, so I read it out gently——

Where and what time thou wilt perform therite,

And all my fortunes atthy foot I'lllay,

And follow the emylord throughout the world.

Tell me, when and where do you want to have your wedding?

I will place my whole destiny in your hands,

Treat you as my master and follow you to the ends of the earth. 【32】

【32】Excerpted from "Selected Works of William Shakespeare", Romeo and Juliet. The Chinese version is translated by Yueming Heqi.