94 Diagon Alley

They are more like the Riddle who escaped from the diary a long time ago, that is, memories that have almost become physical. They are not as real as the body of a living person, but much more real than ghosts. They came towards him with that loving smile on every face.

James was the same height as Harry, wearing the clothes he had been wearing when he died, his hair in a mess, and his glasses were a little crooked, just like Mr. Weasley.

Lily smiled very happily. She brushed her long hair back and approached Harry, those green eyes exactly like Harry's, staring at Harry's face hungrily, as if they could never see enough.

"You are brave."

Harry was speechless. He looked at his mother so much that he seemed willing to stand here and watch her forever, and he thought that was enough.

"You're a little bit closer," James said. "It's very close. We're… so proud of you."

"Does it hurt?" The childish question blurted out, and it was too late for Harry to stop.

"Dead? It doesn't hurt at all," James said. "It's quicker and easier than falling asleep."

"He'll be quick, he wants it to be over," Lily said.

A cold breeze seemed to blow from the middle of the forest, ruffling the hair on Harry's forehead. He knew they wouldn't call him forward, he had to make his own decisions.

"Will you stay with me?"

"Until the end," James said.

"They can't see you?" Harry asked.

"We are part of you," Lily said, "no one else can see."

Harry looked at his mother. "Stay with me," he said softly.

He left. The Dementor's chill did not conquer him, and he passed through that chill with his relatives, who were like his patron saints. Together they strode through the thick, tangled, ancient bushes. In the darkness, Harry wrapped the Invisibility Cloak tightly around his body and walked into the depths of the Forbidden Forest step by step. He didn't know where Voldemort was, but he believed that he would be found. James and Lily walked silently beside him, their company giving him courage and the reason he was able to move forward step by step.

His body and mind seemed oddly disconnected, his mind gave no instructions, his limbs acted on their own, as if he were a passenger rather than a driver of the body he was leaving. He felt at the moment that the dead who walked with him in the Forbidden Forest were much more real than the living people in the castle, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and all the others were ghosts, and he was Tottering, slipping, to the end of life, to Voldemort...

Boom, followed by whispers. There are other living creatures moving nearby. Harry stopped under the Invisibility Cloak, looked from side to side, and listened, as did his mother and father.

"There's someone there," whispered a hoarse voice nearby, "wearing an invisibility cloak, could it be—?"

Two figures flashed behind a tree beside it. Their wands were flashing, and Harry saw Yaxley and Dolohov staring into the darkness, right where Harry and his parents were standing. Apparently they couldn't see anything.

"You must have heard something," Yaxley said. "It's an animal, what do you think?"

"That idiot Hagrid keeps a whole bunch of junk here." Dolokhov said with a twist.

Yaxley looked down at his watch. "It's almost time. Potter's hour is up and he won't be coming."

"He thought he was sure to come! He would be unhappy."

"Let's go back," Yaxley said, "and see what's next."

He and Dolohov turned and walked deep into the Forbidden Forest, and Harry followed, knowing they would lead him where he wanted to go. He glanced aside, his mother looked at him with a smile, and his father nodded encouragingly.

After walking for a few minutes, Harry saw a light ahead, and Yaxley and Dolohov came to a clearing where Harry knew the terrible Aragog had lived. Its mangled web is still there, but the offspring it has bred have been driven by the Death Eaters to fight for them.

In the middle of the clearing, a bonfire was burning, and the flickering light illuminated a group of silent, alert-looking Death Eaters. Some still had their faces covered and hooded, while others had their faces exposed. Two giants sat on the periphery, casting huge shadows around them, their faces as grim and rough as those carved in rock. Harry saw Fenrir stealthily nibbling at his long nails, and Rolle, the big blond, wiped his **** lips lightly. He saw Lucius Malfoy look downcast and trembling, and Narcissa's eyes were sunken with horror.

Every pair of eyes was on Voldemort. He stood there with his head bowed, his pale hands clasping the elder wand in front of him, as if praying, or counting silently, Harry still standing on the edge of the clearing, absurdly thinking of a man who was counting in a game of hide-and-seek. child. Behind Voldemort's head, the serpent Nagini was still floating in his gleaming magic cage like a giant halo, spinning and coiling.

Dolohov and Yaxley walked among the group, and Voldemort looked up.

"There is no sign of him, Master," said Dolokhov.

Voldemort's expression did not change, the red eyes seemed to be burning in the firelight. He put the Elder Wand between his long fingers and twitched it slowly.

"Master—"

It was Bellatrix speaking. She was sitting closest to Voldemort, her hair was disheveled, there was a little blood on her face, and she was uninjured.

Voldemort raised a hand to silence her, and she stopped talking, staring at Voldemort with fervent admiration.

"I thought he would come," Voldemort said in his high, clear voice, looking at the throbbing flames, "I expected him to come."

No one spoke. They all seemed as frightened as Harry, whose heart was beating hard against his ribs, seemed determined to escape the body he was about to abandon. He took off the Invisibility Cloak with his sweaty hands and tucked it under his robe with his wand. He didn't want to be tempted to fight back.

"Looks like... I was wrong," said Voldemort.

"You are not wrong."

Harry gathered all his strength and turned his voice to the loudest, he didn't want anyone to hear that he was scared. The resurrection stone slipped from his numb fingers, he stepped into the firelight, and out of the corner of his eye he saw that his parents had disappeared. At this moment, he felt that no one else was important except Voldemort. Just the two of them.

The illusion is fleeting. The Death Eaters all stood up, the giant roared, shouting, gasping in surprise, and even laughter all around. Voldemort stood there stiffly, but the red eyes saw Harry, watching Harry approaching him, only the bonfire between them.

Then a voice shouted—

"Harry! No!"

Harry turned around and saw that Hagrid was tied to a nearby tree, struggling desperately, his huge body swaying and the branches above his head swayed.

"No! No! Harry, you want to—?"

"Shut up!" Rolle shouted and waved his wand, but Hagrid was silent.

Bellatrix had already jumped to her feet, looking eagerly at Voldemort and then at Harry, her chest heaving violently. All that was still moving were the flames and the snake, coiling and unwinding in the gleaming cage behind Voldemort's head.

Harry could feel the wand in his chest, but he didn't reach for it. He knew the snake was so well guarded that even if he aimed his wand at Nagini, he would be hit by fifty spells first. Voldemort and Harry were still looking at each other, and then Voldemort turned his head slightly to the side and looked at the boy standing in front of him, his lipless mouth wriggling in an odd, gloomy smile.

"Harry Potter," he said, his voice soft, like a hissing fire, "The Boy Who Lived."

The Death Eaters did not move, they were all waiting, everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, Bellatrix was gasping, and Harry thought of Ginny for no reason, of her radiant appearance, and the feeling of her lips against his—

Voldemort has raised his wand. His head was still turned to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen next. Harry stared straight into those red eyes, hoping that moment would come immediately, the sooner the better, before he could stand, before he lost control, before he showed his fear—

Harry saw the mouth move, a green light flashed, and everything disappeared.

Harry lay face down, listening to the silence. He is completely alone. No one is looking at him. There is no one else around. He wasn't quite sure if he was here.

After a long time, perhaps no time at all, he realized that he must be there, certainly not just out of the mind of the body, because he was lying, absolutely lying, on the surface of something . So he is tactile, and the thing under him is there.

He believed that he was the only one here, so he didn't feel embarrassed, he just felt a little curious. He had sense of touch, and wondered if he still had vision. He tried to open his eyes and found that he still had eyes.

He lay in a bright mist, but not like any he had seen before. It is not that the surrounding scenery is shrouded in cloud-like vapor, but that these cloud-like vapors have not yet formed the surrounding scenery. The ground on which he lay seemed to be white, neither hot nor cold, just a presence, a flat, empty thing.

He sat up, seemingly uninjured.