Harry Potter’s Morning Light

Chapter 3209 Wolf Valley (3)

In fact, not every ancient Greek sculpture embodies harmony as Chateaubriand said. The expressions of Laocoön and his sons seem to have traveled through time, conveying despair and pain.

While Bertin was busy around Georgiana, she was thinking that the Trojans really shouldn't open the gates and let the wooden horse in.

I don’t know what Pomona was thinking at the time, but he actually placed such a sculpture at the entrance of his London apartment.

“Okay,” Bertin announced. “Just take a look.”

 Two seamstresses came over pushing a huge mirror with pulleys on the bottom.

An idea flashed through her mind. The legs of the Mirror of Erised seemed to be those of a lion.

 Then she saw herself in the mirror.

 “How was it?” Bertin asked Georgiana excitedly.

 You look like a macaw!

Georgiana thought to herself.

Even after two centuries, girls still have little resistance to tutu skirts. Although Bertin has restrained them, the skirts are not so exaggerated and the waist does not need to be tightened by corsets.

 The hem of her skirt looks like a flower petal. If she turns around a little more, she will sweep the ashtray off the table.

 “You don’t like it?” Bertin asked.

 Oh, hell, of course I don’t!

 Georgiana yelled in her heart.

 But she is not wearing these clothes for herself.

 She is like a wrapped Christmas present, waiting for someone to open it.

"Hortans's wedding dress is white." Georgiana said weakly, thinking of the wedding dress business she had planned.

“What you are wearing is not a wedding dress.” Bertin said mercilessly, tightening her belt to make the bow on the back larger.

 “I can’t breathe,” Georgiana protested.

"It will be untied soon. There is no dance tonight." Bertin looked at Georgiana. "You still need jewels."

You don’t have to go to a dance but you still need to wear any jewelry...

She was furious, and when Bertin went to get the jewelry, she looked at the "macaw" in the mirror.

The gorgeous colors reminded her of the illustrations she saw in a book.

 “What is this?” Georgiana asked, holding the book in her hand.

 Li Ang raised his head.

 “The book you are reading is called The Fables of Pilpe.”

 “What’s that?” asked Georgiana.

 “A collection of Persian fables.”

 “Wow, you even have this.” She admired, flipping through the handwritten book in her hand.

"This is a gift from the Sultan." Li Ang said, walking to her side and looking at the exquisite "artwork" with her.

It is so exquisite, gold foil is used in all golden places, and gemstones are used for decoration in some places.

 “If you like it, I’ll give it to you.” He said generously.

 “What’s the book about?” she said, looking at him curiously.

 He pulled her aside, let her sit on his lap, then flipped through the book of fables, and told her the stories in it.

That is a book written by Sufis. In Persia, the phoenix is ​​called simurgh. Like the phoenix, it can be reborn from the ashes at the last moment of its life.

It sometimes saves people from disasters and soars over the mountains and cities, with a little hero hanging in its paws.

That scene was very similar to the scene where Fawkes rescued Harry from the Slytherin Chamber of Secrets. It was hard to imagine that such a small phoenix could actually take Harry, Ron and Ginny out.

The story Li Ang told her was "The Meeting of the Birds". Because Simofu was about to die, the hoopoe asked the birds to gather together to elect the bird king.

Many birds died on this arduous journey, but some birds could not overcome their weaknesses and did not even go.

The nightingale is trapped in earthly love for the rose

Peregrine Falcon cherishes its freedom too much

 Parrot wants to live forever

　Doves and partridges are too self-indulgent

The mountain dove is nostalgic for its own hillside

The heron is nostalgic for its own swamp

Owl misses its own ruins

Chaffinches are afraid of departure itself.

Eventually only thirty birds arrived at Simov's palace, but were turned away. They discovered a lake, and as they gazed at the reflection in the lake, they became one with Simov.

　　When Simov first appeared in the world, it was a dark night, and a feather fell from the sky. From then on, its fame spread in all directions.

The Hoopoe explained that all souls carry the imprint of this feather, longing to return to its source.

Harry and Voldemort’s wands use the same phoenix tail feather. Is this because their souls are imprinted by this feather?

At this moment, she felt a chill on her neck, and Bertin put the black pearl necklace around her neck.

Even though this thing reminded her of a gallows, since she was already choked by a belt and couldn't breathe, she just ignored it.

 Then Bertin helped her put on the black pearl earrings given by Talleyrand.

 “It’s a bit out of place.” Bertin complained.

This is a roaring pile of flowers!

Georgiana finally couldn't bear it anymore and used a color-changing spell to make all the patterns disappear, leaving only the silver satin surface.

Bertan was stunned for a moment.

 “Go and bring me a shawl,” said Georgiana.

Bertan left calmly. After she walked away, Georgiana looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. If letting go is a kind of purification, she can actually be more open-minded. Is it necessary for her to stay in this world where ghosts don't know that they are ghosts?

 “You really think that?”

Georgiana turned her head and found Hathor standing next to her with a glass of wine. It was the champagne Bougainville had poured for her just now.

 “What are you doing here?” asked Georgiana.

 “Today is your big day, and I’m here to congratulate you.” Hathor said with a smile.

She gritted her teeth and looked at the Egyptian God of Love.

“The Romans believed that persona refers to a person with flesh and blood.” Hathor took a sip of wine and “homo is a person in a biological sense.”

"What?"

"I'm telling you about the creation of man," Hathor said calmly.

Georgiana thought she should choose a wand with a dragon heartstring, but she didn't faint because of this problem.

“Do you think a person is human if he only has bones and flesh?” Hathor smiled.

 “There’s still a soul,” said Georgiana.

 “And…” Hathor prompted.

 “Spirit.” Georgiana said slowly, like a student tentatively answering the teacher’s question.

“Entity is not always alive.” Hathor raised Georgiana’s chin, “And you can leave this image (imagine).”

As soon as Hathor finished speaking, a kiss came to her lips. It had a fruity fragrance and seemed to taste the same as the glass of "King of Champagne".

"you are so Beautiful."

 The devil who came to harvest gifts has arrived, and it's not completely dark yet.

Chateaubriand once said that Napoleon was a devil, but even though he was a devil, he was still talented in poetry.

If she is really an "angel" who fell into the world as Edgeworth said, how could an "angel" fall in love with a devil?

At this time, there was the sound of footsteps behind him, as if Bertin was returning from getting his shawl.

Georgiana turned around and saw darkness behind her. Why did it suddenly get dark?

She was groping in the dark for an unknown amount of time when she heard a voice in her ears.

 “I did as you asked!”

"You have done an excellent job. Don't think I underestimate the danger you are constantly in, Severus. It is my only job to tell Voldemort only the information that seems valuable and to keep the most important information to myself. I can leave it to you.”

“But you place more trust in a little boy who doesn’t even know Occlumency. His magic is mediocre and he can directly connect to the Dark Lord’s mind!”

"Voldemort was afraid of that connection," Dumbledore said. "Not long ago he had a small taste of what sharing Harry's thoughts meant to him. He had never known pain like that. He would never again Trying to control Harry, I'm sure, at least not in that way."

"I do not understand."

“Voldemort’s soul was so mutilated that it could not bear to be near a soul like Harry’s, like tongue on frozen steel, flesh on fire—”

 “Soul? We’re talking about mind!”

 “As far as Harry and Voldemort are concerned, the two are the same thing.”

"Question." Dumbledore's voice came from behind her, "What is the origin of the word mind?"

"I'm afraid I have to look in the dictionary to tell you." Pomona said she heard a strange sound, like a bird's beak pecking at a bone.

“Don’t leave in such a hurry.” One hand handed her a silver snowflake locket. “I think this belongs to you.”

She was not so inclined to accept it, especially if it contained Bonaparte's seal.

 But she still took it subconsciously.

 “Ask, when was the last Inquisition closed?”

 She was confused by the question.

 “How did you pass the owl exam?”

 At this moment she remembered another fable in the book.

The birds still gathered together to choose the king of birds. Each bird recommended its ideal choice, the brave peregrine falcon, the majestic eagle and the gorgeous peacock. In the end, the owl got the most votes because it was considered the wisest. , but other species of birds claim never to obey such an ugly creature. Chance falls apart and the birds get into a heated argument until a crow arrives.

The crow himself was ugly and said other birds were ugly. At the same time, he also said very forcefully that he could be the king of birds. The owl flew away with a grudge, and the two became mortal enemies from then on.

She looked at the blue room in front of her, and the color became more and more annoying the more she looked at it.

Beside her, there was a man lying on his back, breathing rapidly, as if he had just undergone strenuous exercise.

 He still has the black silk bag around his neck.

 After waiting for a while, he calmed down.

 “What are you thinking about?” he said lazily.

 “You don’t want to know.” Georgiana lay on his chest, listening to the heartbeat inside.

 How can a dead person have a heartbeat?

 “I want to know.” He ruffled her hair with his fingers.

 “I’m thinking of Milan Cathedral,” she said softly.

 “What are you thinking about?” he asked casually.

 “Crosses and bodies, and sculptures of St. Bartholomew,” she said slowly.

 His fingers stopped moving.

“This is not the sculpture of Praxiteles in Athens.” Georgiana said calmly. “What do you think the inscription on it means?”

 “You like it?”

“Don’t move everything home. Do you know what happened in Bougainville twenty years ago?” She turned to look at the people around her, then jumped up suddenly.

She wanted to write down what she just dreamed about before she forgot it. Where were the paper and pen?

 (End of this chapter)