[HP Doujin] 1943

Memories from those days lying in St. Mungo's always came in fragments, out of nowhere.Sometimes the dates and order are reversed.When the melody of a song suddenly sounded in my mind, a large piece of memory flooded into my mind again.

Should auldacquaintancebeforgot,

and never brought to mind?

Should auldacquaintancebeforgot,

forthesakeofauldlangsyne. 【10】

We were born in that era of war, and we fell in love in that era of life and death.

A beam of white light shot out from the projector, passed through the dark theater, and landed on the screen.The film rolled up, playing black-and-white images frame by frame.I still vaguely remember "The Blue Bridge" released in 1940 [11], and the nostalgic melody of Auld Lang Syne that I always sang, and the sly face of my favorite actress Vivien Leigh smiling in front of the camera.She squinted at me in front of the screen, speaking witty words of love, her charming eyes were bright and full of vitality.This is the radiance and vitality of a young woman in love.

Men's military boots and women's black leather shoes stepped across the dark Waterloo Bridge, high-pitched air-raid sirens sounded the entire city, and searchlights swept across the dark Thames water.The sound of engines and sirens, the sound of officers' footsteps and the clash of guns, and the hiss of radio broadcasts all merged into one.Behind the dark bar window, on a small round table is a major's gun with a polished butt, and a photo with yellowed edges that has been placed for a long time on the warm chest lining inside the military uniform.There is also a clear glass of tequila without ice, and a beige coaster with a hole burned by a cigarette.In the distance, there were occasional explosions from air raids, women were screaming, and the glass trembled slightly.

The night is too misty to remember so many hurried footsteps and calls made in the red public phone booth with trembling fingers.Every dimly lit night and every foggy morning, the train will fly past the icy railroad tracks, taking away the countless waiting and hopes of the women.

"The Count of Monte Cristo" said, wait and hope, all the wisdom of mankind is contained in these four words.

We cannot change this era.But fortunately, we can still be a warrior who protects our tiny dreams in the torrent of the times.

In [-], drowned in the flames of war and tears, when I think about it, it seems to be black and white silent sadness, just like old movies, which are played slowly frame by frame.Just when Hitler's German tanks swept across Eastern Europe, flew across the English Channel to attack London, and drove groups of Jews into the gas chambers of Auschwitz, from Scandinavia in northern Europe, black terror was like a plague in the wizarding world It began to spread and spread throughout the European continent.Muggle-born wizards, half-bloods, squibs, they disguised themselves, dragged their families, and fled from the cold northern countries to the south.Because of the separation from the European continent, the British Isles became the only refuge for Gellert Grindelwald's forces in the whole of Europe.

In the summer of 1940, I was wearing an apple-green dress with a sweetheart neckline and an old khaki coat over it, and I sat high on the rails of the platform at Waterloo Station with impudence.Wearing a pair of low-heeled black leather shoes on his feet, he raised his head, tapped his toes in the rhythm of the follower, and hummed this favorite Muggle song——

Should auldacquaintancebeforgot,

and never brought to mind?

Should auldacquaintancebeforgot,

forthesakeofauldlangsyne.

Forauldlangsang, my dear,

Forauldlangsang,

We'll take acupo' kindness yet,

Forauldlangsang.

A train arrived at the station, and soldiers on vacation, the sick and wounded, nurses in white clothes, and luggage-carrying porters crowded the entire platform.Call girls with heavy makeup, wearing low-cut shirts, delicate hair pressed under small berets, and beautiful handbags on their arms, flirtatiously ogle at each officer.Most of the time, the Muggle police don't have time to notice me.When they chased me away, I was always running fast and never got caught.

I really don't understand how Tom can be so calm and read in such a chaotic and noisy London.As soon as he immerses himself in his book, he automatically blocks all external interference.During the long summer holidays, when I was hanging out, bullying waifs and stealing Muggle movie tickets, Tom would always sit in his cramped room reading a book, scratching the pages and notebooks with a quill. Write with a brush, the black handwriting is tall and straight.He read spellbooks, histories of magic, principles of transfiguration, and he was as familiar with the history and rise and fall of the Dark Arts as he was with his own name.Regarding the political system of the magic world, every amendment to the British law enacted by the Ministry of Magic, and the Convention on International Magical Cooperation, he can almost recite everything back and forth.

Almost every day I would sneak into the backyard of the orphanage, climb up the tall beech tree, climb on the thick branches like a monkey, blow out the second window on the left of the third floor, and then be satisfied to see Tom Angrily, he jumped up from the books and shards of glass, went to the window, fixed the window with a wave of his wand, and dragged me from the tree into the house.

I don't like reading, I like watching him read.I think he's a self-important nerd who never goes to see Muggle movies with me, or follow me to Waterloo Station.He cares more about Grindelwald's forces in Northern Europe than three meals a day. I really don't understand how much a dark wizard who is presumptuous in Europe has anything to do with him.Even if Grindelwald comes to England one day, it will be the Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore who will fight against him, and he has half a dime relationship with him as a student.

I haven't blown his windows for a week since I kissed him in the bomb shelter.Once, he found me in a bridge hole beside the Thames, and asked me with a sullen face where I had been these few days.

"The Randalls." I lied.

"You avoid me." He directly ignored my lame lie and said to the point.

I jumped out of the bridge and ran along the bank of the Thames, trying to shake him off.But he followed me all the way, running as fast as a hound on his long legs.I sneaked into a Muggle restaurant, thinking he wouldn't come after me.There was a small stage in the restaurant, and a band was playing jazz.I slipped between the round tables and peered through the glass windows to see if he had disappeared.

"Who are you looking for?" A voice came from behind me, I turned around, my eyes widened in fright, his enlarged face was just behind my neck, looking at me viciously.

"Why did you run away when you saw me?" he asked.

I said carelessly, "Because I'm shy."

He coughed violently, as if he had choked on his own saliva after hearing my words.If he had just been drinking water, he would have spit it out in one gulp.

"You were the one who kissed me last time, but I didn't kiss you. How dare you say that you would be shy?" He said while coughing, with a teasing gleam in his dark eyes.

Angrily, I stomped on his foot, lifted my skirt and ran, knocking an old woman who was eating headfirst into her beef stew.The manager of the restaurant was a woman in her thirties, wearing an ugly coral necklace and a thick lip gloss.She bellowed loudly behind me, "Stop! Hey!"

Amidst the old woman's roar, the restaurant manager grabbed me at the door. She looked at my messy hair with disgust and said angrily, "I'm going to call the police now! You wild child should be locked up." !"

"You're right." A polite, low-pitched voice sounded beside us, we all looked up, Tom stood aside, said sincerely, and pointed at me, "She stole from me before wallet."

Tom's handsome face can fool everyone at any time.His beautiful dark eyes looked at the restaurant manager with a gleam of pretended honesty, and the restaurant manager immediately smiled.

Tom took my arm and stared at me: "I should have sent you to the police station last time!" He said as he watched the restaurant manager's hand release my arm, and yelled at me: "Run!"

We didn't need him to say it a second time, we rushed out the door in two, passing walkers and taxis on the dark road, and then hopped on a double-decker bus on the side of the road.As the car started we were both out of breath and I took one look at him and suddenly started laughing.

He pulled me to sit down, and without saying anything, he held me in his arms naturally.We watched the row of orange lights on the Strand outside the car window, the bells of the church for late mass and the sound of trams rang loudly, and our breathing gradually calmed down.I hesitated, and leaned on his chest obediently.

I remember very clearly that night Tom was wearing a simple white shirt and black coat, my cheek was pressed against the cool fabric of his chest, and the tip of my nose was surrounded by the faint smell of ink and wood on his body.Neither of us spoke, just quietly watching the scenery of the city of London at night moving back outside the window.At that moment, it seemed that all the darkness, strife, lies, and hypocrisy in the world were thousands of miles away from us, and it seemed that this bus would continue to move forward in the gentle night like this, arriving at an unknown and beautiful place, where it would never be. look back.

Until now, every time I see a Muggle double-decker bus on a busy or empty street, I will stop in a daze and be slightly dazed.

Lying in St. Mungo's hospital bed, recalling all this, I feel that my whole body has been plunged into a dark void, floating in an endless abyss, and I don't know when I will fall.

It's strange to think about it, since we kissed in the air-raid shelter, we have changed from the hostile state we met before to a more intimate relationship that I can't explain clearly.At that time, I didn't have the concept of "falling in love" in my mind, and I thought more about a kind of "partner".Yes, I think we are each other's companions, each other's company and need each other in this lonely world.

In addition to reading books with him in the orphanage room, I would squat in the bridge hole with him for a while.

The bridge hole is a good place. First of all, the location is good. It faces the Thames River and Westminster Abbey is on the other side of the river.Tom likes to squat in it and read a book, and I like to squat in it in a daze.Moreover, both of us like to monopolize this bridge hole that can clearly accommodate ten people. In the past, when the two of us could not get along peacefully, we always fought over this bridge hole. In all likelihood, it ended in my failure.

Once, when I was in a trance in the bridge hole, Tom kicked me into the water from behind.He picked me up and said to me with a smirk: "Elizabeth, if you give me a kiss, the bridge hole will be given to you on Friday and Saturday." The stone returned to smash the ground to break the blood (of course I did it).

However, by the summer of 1940, the two of us were able to stay in the same bridge hole in peace.I always like to use his legs as sofa cushions, lie comfortably on his chest, throw stones into the water silently, and watch the small stones dance on the water surface and disappear into the mist.

Neither of us spoke because we liked the silence.

During the two years of the second and third grades, Tom and I maintained such a peaceful relationship.We didn't make our relationship public at school because Tom told me he didn't want people at school to know he had a girlfriend.I didn't think much about it, because I didn't want to get too tired with him.He has his circle, and I have my friends. I don't want to interfere too much with him, which is fine.

On those calm evenings, the early mornings after the rain, and the long summer afternoons, we occasionally slipped into the Forbidden Forest, the empty classrooms, the lonely corners of schools like the Observatory.When we were alone, most of us were chatting. He seldom said anything to me, and always listened to my chattering silently, with a rare calm expression on his face.Every time I realized I had talked too much and stopped to ask how he was doing, he would quietly hug me to his chest and change the subject without showing a trace.

At that time, I didn't realize his purpose of changing the topic, and I didn't realize that there was always a deep gap between me and him, and there was no way to bridge it no matter what.

We've been fighting since third grade, and the reason for the fight is Sylvia Black.

I don't like her always being by Tom's side.I'm jealous that she has such an excellent family background, and I'm jealous of her excellence and beauty.She and Tom looked so good together that the whole grade was saying they were in a relationship.

It was the stinging jealousy when I heard rumors about them both that I realized that Tom and I had been in a relationship.

Tom has always worked so hard in his studies. He has been learning the spells of NEWTs since the third grade.He sat in the same position every time, buried deep in his books, indifferent to the world around him.Because he didn't want people in the school to know the relationship between me and him, so in many long afternoons and evenings, I sat silently in a corner near him, holding a book, reading slowly, and Stay silent and accompany him like a mushroom.

I remember one night, there was a thick fog outside the window.It was already mid-October at that time, and the weather had already cooled down.The lights in the library shone on the frosted windows, dimly, reflecting a faint yellow.I stood in front of a window and looked at my own reflection in the dark glass.

I don't know how long I stood there, but I saw the ice flakes on the window move slowly, forming the three letters "Liz".

I turned around in surprise and saw Tom approaching.

We looked at each other and suddenly burst out laughing.I turned back to the window and he was standing behind me.He stood so close to me that I could smell a faint ink on him.

The ice flakes on the window gradually moved again. I looked up, but I didn't recognize the letters that changed this time: "KweDisJesitComw.Ghex."

I didn't take ancient runes, so I couldn't understand this sentence.I turned around and wanted to ask him what he meant, but his expression was very strange, and there were many emotions flashing in his dark eyes that I couldn't understand.

It was a kind of sadness like an undercurrent.It's a painful emotion that's been suppressed.

Later, I went to look up the dictionary of ancient magic words, and the meaning of this sentence is: "I love you, goodbye."

It turned out that he had already decided to give up on me.

For the career he wants, of course he can face me without changing his face.Maybe he is everything to me.But to him, I am nothing.

In retrospect, our arguments were more terrifying than the nightmare of my mother leaving us.

He was always in doubles with Sylvia, but never would tell me what the hell they were doing.When we were in the third grade, there were already many classmates who were in love with us, but he always refused to disclose my relationship with him, and he refused to introduce me to any of his friends.

It turned out that as long as I asked about his personal affairs, he would change the subject quietly, but gradually, he became impatient.Once I asked him what he did with Sylvia last weekend in Hogsmeade, and he smacked his quill on the textbook, looked up at me, and said in a very grim tone Say, "How many times do you want me to tell you, Elizabeth? Don't meddle in my private affairs."

"Very good!" I stood up angrily, packed my things and turned around and rushed out.

After that, I didn't talk to him for several weeks, and he didn't talk to me.

Before I met Tom, I always thought that I had a very clear bottom line in my heart. No matter who it was, once I touched this bottom line, I would walk away without hesitation without looking back.But my whole world changed when I met Tom. I forgave him no matter what he did, and I missed him no matter where he was.

Because I love him more than he loves me, I gave him the power to hurt me.

In this way, we quarreled, reconciled, quarreled again, reconciled... After going back and forth several times, I finally lit the fuse. In a fierce dispute, I slapped him.

"You go," I said to him, in a tone of despair, "you go and be with that bitch Sylvia, I never want to see you again."

He looked at me quietly, with red marks from my slap on his face, and strong anger gathered in his dark eyes.

"Don't use that word for her," he said slowly.

He further angered me, and I yelled at him like a wild cat: "Okay, you choose to protect her, don't you? The group of friends and that bitch around you is what you want, isn't it?" ? Because her family is rich and powerful, and my origin is as low as your own, isn't it?!"

"Elizabeth, do you know that you're acting like a shrew right now?"

"We're done!" I continued yelling at him, "We're done! I hate you!"

I packed my schoolbag and rushed out, as I would do after every argument we had—sprinted from the classroom and slammed the door, full of heroines in movies and novels. dramatic.

I know he will come to me after every fight we have.He would send me a note, or a message, telling me to wait for him somewhere.Even if I still ignore him with a sullen face, he will hug me tightly and kiss me until I wrap my arms around his waist, bury my face in his arms, and sob and say, "Don't be so angry again in the future." me."

Sure enough, three days later, a junior boy in Slytherin brought me his note, and it was Tom who asked me to meet me in the empty classroom on the fifth floor at eight o'clock in the evening.

It was quicker than I thought, he wouldn't come to me for at least a week after we had a big fight.

I don't know why, but I had an uneasy feeling in my heart, but I still tried my best to calm down and went to the classroom on time to wait for him.

When he opened the door and came in, I was sitting on a desk, dangling my legs, with a pale smile on my face.

"Hi." He threw his schoolbag on the ground and walked towards me calmly.He was wearing black school robes and a loosely tied tie, which smelt of a Potions classroom.

I looked at him quietly and didn't speak.

Standing a meter away from me, with his hands in his robe pockets, he said quietly, "Elizabeth, let's part."

For a while, I didn't understand what he was talking about, I just looked at him stupidly and didn't speak.After a while, consciousness slowly flowed into my limbs.

"Tom..." My lips trembled slightly, "What are you talking about?"

"You don't understand what I want." He said simply and clearly, "You will only keep dragging me down."

"But you never told me what you want, how do you know I can't help you?" I said desperately.

"Because—" he glanced at me, and the ruthlessness in his eyes made me tremble all over, "because you are not worthy."

Now, two years later, I'm tossing and turning on St. Mungo's pillow, soaking it with tears streaming down my face.

Not only did he break up with me completely, he also wiped my memory.

But he can erase my memory, but he cannot erase the obsession in my heart.

I love him, I'm madly in love with him, he's like my own life to me.Even if he erased my memory, I will still subconsciously squat in the corner every summer vacation, looking for every opportunity to cast a curse on the children in the orphanage, I will still subconsciously pay attention to everything about him, he said Yes, I just wanted to get his attention.

I lay in St. Mungo's for more than two weeks, with my father and mother taking turns staying with me, and Professor Dumbledore came to visit me once and asked me some discreet questions.He asked who erased my memory, and I just shook my head and said, "I can't remember."

The therapist shook his head and said to Professor Dumbledore: "This is normal. People with impaired memory often cannot recall everything. Miss Bradley is recovering well."

Professor Dumbledore looked at me quietly, and after a long time, he said slowly: "The school has returned to normal. If you come back next week, you can still review for a while before the OWLs exam."

Sylvia was right, if I had thought of all this, I would never have run to tell Dippet and Dumbledore about Tom.

I knew Tom was a bad guy, I knew he was a manipulative guy, I knew he was ganging up at the school, he was making threats, he was intimidating, and I knew he killed Myrtle Warren.

But I love him.I love him unconditionally.

[10] Excerpted from the poem Alud Lang Sang (Good old days) by Robert Burns, the national poet of Scotland The folk songs passed down by the local elders are recorded and the precious Scottish cultural heritage has been preserved. Auld Lang Sang was later composed, and the 1788 movie "Waterloo Bridge" (Waterloo Bridge) used this song as the theme song. Since then, Auld Lang Sang has spread all over the world and has become a song often sung together at New Year and Christmas in European and American countries. The simplified Chinese version of AuldLangSang is the familiar "Auld Lang Sang".

[11] "Blue Bridge" describes the love story between the young British military officer Captain Roy Launing (played by Robert Taylor) and the ballet dancer Marla Lester (played by Vivien Leigh).The melody of Auld Lang Sang appears repeatedly in the movie, linking the love between Roy and Mara.