Harry Potter: Man at Hogwarts but no wand

In southern Austria, the Alps are frozen all year round, and there are only a few mild days out of 360 five days a year.The longest and most difficult part of it is winter - this is a place that summer can never reach.

The mountains here are extremely steep, and the days are extremely short. The top of the mountain in the sky is reflected in a clean frost color, while the mountainside, which is always in shadow, shows a quiet deep blue. In this place where the sun is not visible, if you are a wizard, You will find a castle.

It seems to have been abandoned here. The remaining dilapidated stained glass windows are covered in layers of dust, and the complexity and elegance of the past cannot be discerned.The wind and snow poured into the room through the window holes, and a layer of ice formed on the floor tiles with no discernible pattern - the carved floor tiles were full of cracks, or were smashed into pieces by the once magnificent crystal chandelier. .The wealth in the castle has long been looted, and the dirty and stained wallpaper and decayed wooden stairs are fortunately not moldy - nothing can come alive in a low temperature environment.

But this majestic, black, and formidable towering building remains silent, still standing on this inaccessible cliff, as if it had not yet become a glorious moment in history.

The dense coniferous forest at the foot of the mountain is also covered by the white snow. There are artificial paths under the forest that are difficult to identify.The falling snowflakes stopped on the long hair and beard of an old man and merged with them. He stopped and walked, but his strong steps showed that he was not having difficulty moving forward because of physical problems.

Once he was stopped in a small town with iris flowers blooming next to the mountains. He was only regarded as a pious old man who went into the mountains to ask for the protection of the goddess of the Alps.He just smiled and said nothing, picked an iris, pinned it on his hat and went into the mountain stubbornly.People were speculating one after another, but soon after he left, they all forgot what happened.

The old man took hesitant steps, and instead of dispersing the half-foot-thick snow, he dug his legs into the deep cold - the only place where he used magic was the iris on his hat.He lowered his head and breathed out white air, as if he was recalling the last time he came here in 1945.

He didn't see a hand sticking out of the narrow window at the top of the tower, which was so high that one could only stand on tiptoe. He only felt that the snow seemed to be much smaller.

These stone steps are buried deep under a vast expanse of white. Just because they are invisible does not mean that they are not there. Even if they are eroded, it does not mean that they have not been memorized by heart.

When the old man's legs were soaked and muddy water and snowflakes covered his body, the wet and red arms on the top of the tower retracted.

He looked at the luxurious and elegant hall in his memory. How long had it been since he had been here?Almost 50 years?Or 47 years, 3 months and 25 days?He walked up the steps and almost slipped. He laughed at himself for being old, and what should he say when he saw himself?

Are you old Albus, can you even stop the great President of the Federation of Magic on the steps?Or laugh impatiently while listening to your own nagging complaints?

He didn't dare to go forward, and he denied that his heart was trembling.He didn't want to know why, but the frequency of his heart beating reminded him strongly.

Is it love?Or guilty?Or longing for something?

Albus, Albus you are such a coward.

The old man paused, then gritted his teeth and walked towards the steps leading to the tower.He stepped onto the ice-covered steps step by step, and his brain tried hard to restrain his emotions from leaking out. It told himself that what he did 47 years, three months and 3 days ago was the right thing to do.

But his heart was not. It beat heavily and angrily shouted that he was a bastard and a ruthless bastard!Follow your heart!Albus!

"Follow your heart, professor, you don't need to be a god." The child said this with a ridiculously swollen face.

Maybe he was just mocking himself for not caring too much, or was he mocking his arrogance for planning the whole thing?

Finally, he came to the door he closed with his own hands.The platform in front of the door was very narrow. He stood with one foot on the platform and one foot still on the stairs.He looked at the dilapidated door that could be pushed open with a single effort, but he never dared to knock.

He heard the breathing of the person inside.

But he didn't know that the people inside also heard him.

He very much hoped that a familiar voice would ring out at this time, even if it was old and hard to hear.He wished he had cursed suddenly so that he could break in.

damn it!damn it!Albus speaks!You obviously wrote so many letters!So many words were said to him!Do you want to hear with your own ears how he ridiculed himself?

Why didn't he take the initiative to call my name? Why didn't he slam open the door?

He didn't know that the man at the door had thinning hair, lost teeth, and his weather-beaten face did not lose its youthful appearance. He didn't want him to see it, even if he had read Albus, Albus in his heart countless times. , Al, Al, my Al...

Albus put his hand on the door, and he felt that the person inside was pressing against the door.

He staggered and sat on the steps.

After a long time, he took off the iris from his hat and placed it in front of the door, then walked down the steps suddenly.

Gellert pushed himself up by holding on to the wall. He had just knelt in front of the door, blocking the door with all his strength, and rested his head on the place where Albus's palm was caressing until he left.

He straightened up, stood on tiptoes and looked out the window for the first time. He could only see a gray sky - a snowflake flew into his eyes.

Al, I had a dream. I dreamed of a blue-purple iris.