94 hp Diagon Alley

Green light and his mother's pleading voice...

"As a parent," said Harry, "you should never leave your child unless—unless you have to."

"Harry—" Hermione held out a soothing hand, but he shook it away with a shrug.He had talked to Lupine about their school days, hoping to restore confidence in James, and Lupine had comforted him.Lupine's tormented, pale face seemed to shake before him now, and a pang of regret welled up in him, and he felt terrible.Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke, but Harry felt they must be looking at each other behind his back, communicating silently.

He turned and saw them both looking away hurriedly.

"I know I shouldn't call him a coward."

"You shouldn't," said Ron quickly.

"But he acts like a coward."

"But..." said Hermione.

"I know," said Harry, "but if it's going to get him back with Tonks, it's worth it, isn't it?"

He couldn't get rid of the pleading in his tone.Hermione looked sympathetic, Ron was noncommittal.Harry looked down at his feet, thinking of his father.Would James support Harry in saying that to Lupine, or would he be mad at his son for treating his old friend like that?

The sky in England is as black as a thick ink that cannot be melted.Maybe the Saviors team will take some time to digest their argument with the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but at this time, Cedric is carrying a portrait of Armando Dippet climbing up the door of 12 Grimmauld Place. attic.

"I brought him here. I didn't expect that girl to move so fast." The handsome Hufflepuff complained panting in front of the hospital bed.And that portrait was hung on the low wall in the attic opposite the bed.

Difficult road ahead

"Still useless?" Fred asked dejectedly.

"Can't even stop a decent jinx." George picked up the hat from the floor, where the poor mouse had passed out with its tongue out. "Guess the Death Eaters are softer than me?"

"Maybe it's the subject of the experiment, the mouse is too weak." Fred shook the mouse's tail, "I knew we should have brought the ghoul along..."

The twins who had failed the third experiment were screaming in one of the bedrooms of Aunt Muriel's house.Soon they were chased and beaten by the old woman with a cane because they were "too noisy".

The two people who hid in the broom finally escaped unharmed, and only then struggled to crawl out of the astonishing number of spider webs when they heard the sound of the crutches going away.

"We've never been in this room before." Fred saw a tightly locked door next to the broom room, with ancient and complex magic patterns drawn on the door.

"We once swore to be polite guests." George dusted himself off, but also stared at the wooden door intently.

"It's not us if we follow the rules honestly." Fred said nonchalantly, took out his wand, and cast the so-called "thief's friend" spell.

"It doesn't seem to work." George pushed the door that was still motionless. "It's not surprising. Aunt Muriel's house is full of antiques and magic that are older than her. What's the point of opening the Alahoo hole?"

There was a dangerous fire in Fred's eyes. "That's not good. Now I'm more interested in what's behind the door."

"Guess what, bro." George fumbled in his trouser pocket and pulled out a thin barrette. "Muggles are often more effective than wizards at this point."

"That's great." Fred cheered a little. "Come on before she notices."

Gwen once told George that she believed that the reason why wizards failed to rule the world, and even had to be cautious and secluded, was largely due to wizards' overconfidence and absolute reliance on magic.

For example, the magical wooden door in front of the twins, and the lock cylinder engraved with dense magic patterns, only used a small hairpin in the end, and it was poked open in two or three strokes.

"Wow." George, who entered the room first, expressed emotion, and then turned to his brother and said, "Is it too late to go out now?"

"Uh..." Fred was also a little disappointed, "It's just a dilapidated study?"

Yes, there are three walls of bookcases in this locked room, and most of the books in them are old and dregs.

"Close the door, George," whispered Fred. "My piercing eyes saw an old book on magical armor."

George hurriedly closed the door gently, and also blinked his big eyes to search in the bookcase.

two hours later.

"I didn't expect such a day to come." George sighed. "The two of us—the geniuses of the Weasley family—sat in a small library—seriously reading."

"We've grown." Fred said complacently. "Look, when the defensive props are ready, they will give each of us a Merlin Medal."

"Level one." George threw a book into Fred's arms, "It says that the clothes can be turned into a close-fitting shield."

"It's so hard to be human." Fred clicked his tongue twice, "Advanced magic—it hasn't been mass-produced yet."

"Well," George lay on the carpet with his hands behind his head, "how did we do it back then? The badge that deflected the petrification spell? And ground the cockscomb stone into powder?"

"That's the point," Fred read, "it's easy enough to defend against a spell or two, and it's easy to drive a basilisk away ('Nice joke,' said George) but we There's no way to predict a Death Eater's curse - let alone the Unforgivable Curse, so how do you defend against that?"

"A cloak that blocks most spells, you can really think..." George muttered, looking at the ceiling.Standing up suddenly, he slapped his brother hard on the back, "What is that?"

Fred looked up, and the ceiling was painted with intricate and colorful murals, which were the adventures of a wizard traveling around the world. "what are you talking about?"

"See? That thing that looks like a black cloak." George pointed his wand at the northeast corner of the ceiling.

Above their heads was a picture of a thrilling adventure by the wizard of Aunt Muriel's ancestor, who had met a formidable rival in some small country.It looked like a black cloak that slid against the ground, maybe half an inch thick, but thicker as it killed and digested one victim after another.The brave wizard cast countless spells on it, all blocked by its hide, until at the last minute he unleashed his Patronus and drove the fearsome creature away.

"God," Fred obviously understood the mural and the meaning behind it. "Where have I seen it before!"

"I also have the impression..." George raised his head and muttered to himself, "It's probably in a book."

"Okay, let's use our smart brains." Fredella walked over to George, and they sat on the carpet facing each other. "I guess it's an animal..."

"Obviously not an animal from England..." said George.

"Wizards wear clothes that look like they're in the tropics..." Fred went on to analyze.

"It has to be a book that both of us have read." George squeezed his chin. "Then there are not many options."

"It's related to magical creatures." Fred's eyes lit up. "In this country, which book almost every wizarding family has a copy of?"

"Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!" the two brothers blurted out, high-fived, and soon found the booklet, also decades old, even their former textbook, on the newest bookshelf in the study.

"This seems to be the first edition." George pinched the yellowed pages. "What edition is that old Bill and Charlie book?"

"It's at least fifty editions, don't talk nonsense, turn it over quickly." Fred urged impatiently.

"Couldn't you be more patient?" George wrinkled his nose. "Here - Voldebat! I knew it!"

"Papua New Guinea?" Fred pushed away from George to read Scamander's commentary at a glance. "Stunning spells, impeding spells...Merlin, George, most spells won't work on it."

"So," George waved his wand, and the other books outside flew back to the bookcase, "where can we find Voldebat?"

"I have prepared two options for you." Fred stretched out two fingers and said with a smirk, "One, let's go to Hagrid."

George shrugged, thinking it was a poor idea.

"Two, let's go to the Pig's Head, because that's where Hagrid got the Norwegian Ridgeback eggs."

George grinned, thinking this was a brilliant idea.

On the fifth day of staying up late at the Hog's Head, Gwen felt they were getting closer to Hogwarts, but Aberforth said they had only dug a mere five meters.Gwen has gradually become accustomed to using Muggle tools to do physical work, and the only thing that makes her uncomfortable is dealing with strange guests.

Sometimes she can't understand what the British wizards are thinking.Death Eaters swaggered around the streets, and the Ministry of Magic still insisted on the origins of wizards. In such a severe situation, there were still several tables of guests sitting in the bar every day.

How appealing is fire whiskey and red currant rum?

Thinking of this, she couldn't help but complain to the two customers who had just walked in.They were all dressed in black robes with dirty bandages on their faces, except for their mouths and their white teeth, and one of them was whistling at Gwen behind the bar.

"What do you want?" Gwen said hoarsely, throwing the rag for wiping the wine glass in front of them.

"Giggle, pretty girl," said the whistling wizard flirtatiously.

"We don't sell American wine here." Gwen didn't look back.

"Okay," the wizard was taken aback for a moment, as if he didn't expect her to answer like this, "then