HP Approaches the Magical World

The night was wet and windy.

Two kids dressed as pumpkins waddled across the square, shop windows were crawling with paper spiders, tacky Muggle trinkets adorning a world they didn't believe...

He floated with that sense of purpose, power, and rightness that always came to him in situations like this...

It's not anger...that's for souls weaker than him...

But victory, yes...he's been waiting for this moment, looking forward to this moment...

"Pretty make-up, sir!"

A little boy came running and looked under the hood of his cloak, his smile faltering, terror over his painted face.

The child turned and ran away... under the robes his hand grasped the wand...

As long as it moves a little, the child will never run to the mother again...

But there's no need, no need at all...

He was walking down a new, darker street, and the destination was in front of him at last, the Fidelity Charm broken, but they didn't know it yet...

He made a sound softer than dead leaves sliding across the road, and crept up to the dark hedge, and looked inside...

They had not drawn the curtains, and he could see clearly that they were in the small living room, a tall, black-haired man with glasses, blowing out bursts of colored smoke from his wand to tease the little black-haired boy in blue pajamas. happy.

The kid giggled to catch the smoke, squeezed in tiny fists...

A door opened and his mother came in, speaking words he couldn't hear, her long crimson hair hanging down her face.

The father picked up the son and handed it to the mother, then threw the wand on the sofa, stretched and yawned...

The door knocked softly and he pushed it open, but James Potter did not hear it.

A pale hand drew his wand from under the cloak and pointed to the door, which slammed open.

As he crossed the threshold, James burst into the hall, so easy, so easy, James didn't even pick up his wand...

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll stop him—"

Block him, no wand in hand...

He laughed and cast a spell...

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light filled the narrow hallway, illuminating the baby carriage leaning against the wall, the stair railing was blindingly bright like a lightning rod, and James Potter fell like a puppet with a broken string...

He heard her screaming upstairs, there was no way to escape, but as long as she had some sense, at least she herself would not have to be afraid...

He climbed the stairs and was a little amused to hear her try to shield herself with something...

She didn't have a wand either...

How foolish, how credulous they are, to think that they can entrust their safety to their friends, that they can throw away their weapons, even for a moment...

He slammed the door open, and with a lazy flick of his wand, he tossed aside the chairs and boxes she had hastily piled behind the door...

She stood there with the child in her arms.

on seeing him,

She put her son in the cradle behind her, and spread out her arms, as if it was of any use, as if she hoped that if the child was blocked, he would choose her instead...

"Don't kill Harry, don't kill Harry, please, don't kill Harry!"

"Get out of the way, stupid woman... get out of the way..."

"Don't kill Harry, please, kill me, kill me—"

"My last warning—"

"Don't kill Harry, please... have mercy... have mercy...

Don't kill Harry! Don't kill Harry!

Please - I can do anything -"

"Get out of the way - out of the way, woman -"

He could have pushed her away from the cradle, but killing her all seemed safer...

Green light flashed across the room, and she fell like her husband.

The baby never cried: he was standing upright, clutching the cradle rails, looking up at the intruder's face with interest, maybe thinking it was Daddy hiding in the cloak, making more beautiful fireworks, and Mama laughing any moment jump up -

He pointed the wand to the little boy's face so carefully that he wanted to see it happen, to see the destruction of the only unexplainable danger.

The child began to cry, already realizing that he was not Jaime.

He didn't like the sound of crying, he had never been able to bear the crying of the children in the orphanage—

"Avada Kedavra!"

Then he shattered: he was nothing but agonizing fear, he had to hide, he couldn't hide in the ruins of this house with the child still trapped inside crying, he had to hide far away... far away of……

"No."

The snake slithered across the dirty, cluttered floor, and he killed the boy, but he was the boy...

"No……"

Now he stands in front of the broken window of Bathilda's house, lost in the memory of his greatest failure, at his feet, the big snake slides on the glass of broken china... He looks down and sees something ...an incredible thing...

"No……"

"Harry, it's all right, you're all right!"

He leaned over to pick up the broken photo, it was him - the unknown thief, the thief he had been looking for...

"No... I lost it... I lost it..."

"Harry, it's okay, wake up, wake up!"

He's Harry... Harry, not Voldemort... and that rustling thing is not a snake...

He opened his eyes.

The memory terminates and the screen freezes.

Backtracking ends here.

Hermione put her wand away, she knew what was going to happen, and now she had to change her mood.

"Harry," whispered Hermione, "do you think it's - okay?"

"fine."

He was clearly not telling the truth, Hermione could tell.

They were in the tent, Harry lying on a bunk under a pile of blankets.

From the silence around and the icy gleam of light on the canvas canopy, one could tell that day was breaking.

Harry was drenched in sweat, which could be felt on the sheets and blankets.

"We escaped."

"Yes," said Hermione, "it took me a hovering charm to get you onto the bed, I can't move you.

You just... well, you were not old just now..."

There were purple shadows under her brown eyes, and Harry saw that she had a tiny sponge in her hand: she had just been wiping his face.

"You're sick," said Hermione at last, "very sick."

"How long have we escaped?"

"It's been hours, and it's almost morning now."

"I've been...why, am I unconscious?"

"not completely,"

Hermione said unnaturally, "You yell, you groan, and... wait."

Hermione's tone made Harry feel uneasy, what did he do?

Shouting spells like Voldemort?

Cry like a baby in the cradle?

"I can't get the Horcrux off you," said Hermione, knowing she wanted to change the subject: "It's stuck, stuck to your chest.

Made you leave a mark, sorry, I had to use a cutting spell to get it off.

You were bitten by a snake, but I have cleaned the wound and added some white fresh essence..."

He tore off his sweaty T-shirt and looked down.

There is a bright red oval on the heart, which is the trace of the locket.

He also saw a half-healed hole in his forearm.

"Where did you keep the Horcrux?"

"In my bag, I think we should put it away for a while."

He lay down on the pillow and looked at her haggard, gray face.

"It's my fault we shouldn't have gone to Godric's Hollow, it's all my fault, Hermione, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, I wanted to go too, I really thought Dumbledore would leave the sword there for you to get it."

"Yeah, well... we guessed wrong, didn't we?"

"What happened, Harry?

What happened after she took you upstairs?

Is that snake hiding somewhere?

Did it jump out and kill her, and then attack you? "

"No," he said, "she is the snake...or the snake is she..."

"What-what?"

He closed his eyes and smelled him and Bathilda's house, which made the whole thing horribly real.

"Bathilda must have been dead for some time, the snake was... in her body.

The You-Know-Who left it in Godric's Hollow to wait.

You're right, he knew I'd be back. "

Even having known this fact for a long time, it was still a bit nerve-wracking for Hermione to hear Harry's account of the situation.

She actually didn't want what Harry said to be true. For her, the old lady was a respectable senior in the wizarding world, but it was obviously a pity that she had to suffer this kind of treatment after she died. thing.

"The snake in her body?"

Harry opened his eyes and looked at Hermione, who seemed to him to be sick with nausea.

"Lupine said there would be magic beyond our imagination," said Harry, "and Bathilda didn't want to speak in front of you just now because it's Parseltongue, all Parseltongues, and I didn't realize it.

Because I was in a more anxious situation at the time, and I could understand what she said.

As soon as we got to that room upstairs, the snake called You-Know-Who, and I heard it in my head, and I felt him get excited, and he said he wanted to keep me there... and then..."

Hermione was silent.

Because although she couldn't understand, she could also know that Bathilda's voice was not human.

It was she who, at Jon's behest, sent Harry into danger.

Harry didn't know what Hermione was thinking, he remembered the snake coming out of Bathilda's neck, but he didn't think Hermione needed to know those details.

"...she changed, became that snake, and attacked."

He looked down at the hole in his arm.

"It won't kill me, it just wants to watch me and wait for the mysterious man to arrive."

If he could kill the snake, it would be worth it, everything was not in vain... He was very depressed, sat up and lifted the blanket.

"Harry, no, you need to rest!"

"It's you who need to go to sleep.

Don't take it for granted, your face is really ugly.

I'm fine, I'll put the whistle for a while.

Where is my wand? "

She didn't answer, just looked at him.

"Where's my wand, Hermione?"

She bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes.

"Harry..."

"Where's my wand?"

She reached out to the bed, picked it up and handed it to him.

The holly and phoenix-feather wand was nearly broken in two.

A flimsy phoenix feather held the two pieces together, and the wood was completely broken.

Harry held it in his hands as if holding a mortally wounded life.

He couldn't think, his mind was full of panic and fear.

Then he handed Hermione his wand.

"Fix it, please."

"Harry, I don't think so, it's broken like this—"

"Please, Hermione, try it!"

"Recovery—recovery as before."

The dangling and drooping half of the wand was connected.

Harry held it up.

"Fluorescent flickering!"

The wand flickered faintly, then went out again.

Harry pointed it at Hermione.

"Disarm you!"

Hermione's wand cocked, but didn't let go.

The feeble attempt had overwhelmed Harry's wand, which snapped in two.

He looked at it, transfixed, unable to comprehend what he was seeing... this battle-tested wand...

"Harry," said Hermione, so softly that he could barely hear him, "I'm very, very sorry. I think I did it.

You know, the big snake was coming at us when we were running away, so I cast an explosive spell, and it bounced around, and it must have been—must have hit—”

"It was an accident," said Harry mechanically, feeling empty and foggy. "We—we'll find a way to fix it."

"Harry, I don't think there's anything I can do."

said Hermione, tears streaming down her face: "Remember...remember Ron?

After his wand was broken in a car accident, it never got back together and he had to buy another one. "

Harry thought of Ollivander, who was kidnapped and held by Voldemort, and Gregorovich, who was dead.

How would he find a new wand?

"Oh," he said in a normal tone, "Okay, then I'll borrow yours for a while, and I'll go watch."

Hermione, tearful, handed her her wand.

Harry left her sitting alone on the edge of the bed, all he wanted to do now was leave her.

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