[SSHP] End of life

Harry landed on his hips and fell through the air in the middle of a stack of straw.Before he could struggle to his feet, Hermione had jumped nimbly from the top of the straw, chanting protective spells as she ran around where they were.Harry had heard Hermione yell these spells many times, and he jumped down too, casting spells around with Hermione.

After the protective spell completely surrounded them, the two sat down against the straw pile.Hermione took a vial from her beaded pouch and rolled up Harry's sleeves.The sharp splinters of the stone had cut Harry's arm when the wall had been blasted away.

"It's a good thing I brought a needle and thread," said Hermione. "It's so cold that a big tear in our coat and sweater isn't going to help us."

She began to apply the contents of the vial to Harry's wound.Harry gritted his teeth in pain.

"Luna was taken away. Hogwarts is so safe, who can take her away from the school? It must be..." Hermione paused, without mentioning the name that Harry might not want to hear, "Poor Xenophilius, I will sympathize with him if he doesn't sell us out to the Death Eaters."

"It's not his fault," said Harry. "No one is obliged to support me. Besides, Luna is his only daughter. Luna said her mother died. Parents must do everything for their children." Come out."

— just like my parents.

He swallowed the second half of the sentence.

"Hope he's okay," said Hermione, shaking her head. "But where will Luna be taken? Death Eater headquarters?"

Harry's heart sank suddenly.

They had no idea where Luna had been taken.The Death Eaters headquarters or other heavily guarded dungeons, even Azkaban-no matter which one they are not capable of breaking into.He could risk connecting to Voldemort's mind, but Voldemort probably didn't care about such a pure-blood who didn't graduate.Besides, Voldemort can fly and apparate, and the distance between them has never existed from the very beginning.He couldn't risk Hermione.

"Luna won't be knocked out that easily," said Hermione, her voice trembling. "She may be sitting in the empty room by herself observing the Harassing Gadget, or she may be telling fellow prisoners what she saw things."

She paused, then said hopefully, "She's a pureblood. She'll be fine..."

Harry nodded.A lot of people have been arrested, and they will definitely help each other until they get through this most difficult time - now that nothing can be done, he can only think so to make himself feel better.

Hermione glanced at him apologetically, and changed the subject abruptly: "So, I think we need to go to Godric's Hollow?"

"Yes. Dumbledore must have kept the sword there. We're finally making progress." Harry tried not to look excited, as if he had gone to Godric's Hollow just to find the Gryffindor sword.He didn't want to act like a crying kid who couldn't find his parents in front of Hermione.

"Then we-"

"Not now," said Harry calmly. "We erased Mr. Lovegood's memory, but we forgot to take the piece of paper with the Deathly Hallows symbol on it. They'll find out sooner or later, when they clean out the house." After that. We'll have to wait a few more weeks, preferably Christmas Eve, when there aren't many people in the streets, and in case the Death Eaters are waiting for us in Godric's Hollow, where are they hiding? It will be clear."

******

Three weeks had passed in December since the visit to the Lovegoods.The days of waiting to go to Godric's Hollow were so hard that Harry looked forward to it day by day, and almost every night he looked at the wizarding calendar.

During these three weeks, Harry and Hermione visited many wizarding settlements.The possible locations of the Horcruxes listed on the first list have all been crossed out, and there is nothing else to gain.On a few occasions, Harry had even let some people see him on purpose, and if they had acted less concerned about Godric's Hollow, perhaps Voldemort would have removed the Death Eaters who might have been waiting there for them after a while.

Ron didn't know where he was.The Death Eaters weren't lying, Luna's name was never on the Marauder's Map.Snape didn't seem to have left Hogwarts, he was there every time he opened the map.Ginny's life seemed regular and safe.It seemed to them that there was not much difference between three weeks ago and three weeks later, but it was different for him.They were soon going to Godric's Hollow, which might be full of dangers and traps, but that was where he had had a home.It would be all right to die in Godric's Hollow, Harry thought vaguely.He had it all there and lost it all.Maybe he himself should be a ghost from that time.

On Christmas Eve, Harry and Hermione apparated hand in hand into a forest near Godric's Hollow.They drank what Hermione had left of Polyjuice Potion and became a couple.The man Harry transforms into is a bald man who looks kind of ridiculous, especially when exposed to the snow.It started snowing around five or six o'clock in the afternoon, and it didn't stop, and Harry had to brush the cold snowflakes off his bald scalp from time to time.

Many houses in Godric's Hollow are made of wood, or so it seems.The flat-painted houses were probably the residences of Muggles. There was no one on the street, and no Death Eaters were seen.As they walked into the town, there was a brightly lit area in what Harry guessed was the central square.They came to the church door under the cover of darkness and sneaked along the window to the back of the church.Behind the church was a cemetery. Harry was the first to push open the small iron gate and walked into the darkness.

Warm golden light shines from the sides and front of the church, but not from behind.The icy light blue shimmer reflected off the snow made Harry feel chilled to the bone, and it was no exaggeration to say that the coldness was enough to destroy all his strength.

Hermione is looking for Ignotus' tombstone, trying to find some clues about the Deathly Hallows from it.Harry felt weak and incompetent whenever Hermione seriously reasoned and tried to help Harry do the work he was supposed to do.Hermione always remained the same firm, as if Dumbledore had been cultivating her savior instead of Harry.Sometimes Harry even thinks that if Hermione is the savior, then she must be doing well and there must be very few people who will be disappointed by her.

Hermione handed the Invisibility Cloak to Harry and motioned for him to put it on.Harry shook his head.Hermione gave him a comprehending look, then turned and went on with her business.Harry knew he should look for that tombstone too, that the Gryffindor sword might be there, but he didn't want to.He walked among the tombstones, some taller, some shorter, some white marble, some with a cross on top.With his head down, Harry looked row after row until he found what he was looking for.

It was a white tombstone.After finding it, Harry felt that it stood out among the blue and black stone monuments. Why didn't he find that this tombstone was different as soon as he entered?It seemed to glow in the dark.The inscription on the tombstone was golden, and it seemed to sense Harry's approach, making it brighter than before.Harry stroked them, and felt that the inscriptions were so dazzling that it was not his own illusion.

For the first time, he knew his parents' birthdays.It's ridiculous that he never asked in all these years.He waved his wand, and a wreath of Christmas roses appeared in his hand, which he placed on his parents' tombstone.He was so focused that he even startled himself when his hands touched the icy snow.Then he realized that flowers cannot comfort the dead, they are often only used to comfort the living.But he still left them there.

Harry crouched in front of the tombstone, staring at it for a while longer.The parents' bones were in the mud. After more than ten years, there must be only a pile of white bones left.No flesh and blood, no soul, no matter how much their only son grieves and prays with his life, they will never appear in the world again.Realizing this, Harry felt he couldn't stay in the graveyard any longer.He might not be able to stand even one more second.

Harry walked out of the graveyard in the cold wind and walked to the sidewalk.Hermione was still examining the gravestones behind him, not noticing that Harry had gone.The singing of the church on the side echoed leisurely, and the air was full of sweet and bitter smells.Harry felt as if he could see in his mind the colorful reflections the lights cast through the stained shards of glass on the ground.

As a matter of fact he did, after circling out of the cemetery.There was a square on the side of the church, and when Harry walked to the center of the square, the monument changed abruptly.Harry watched in amazement as the cold stone slowly transformed in front of him into a man and a woman cuddling together.The woman holds a baby in her hands, and the falling snow puts white hats and scarves on them, fluffy.The red, gold, and green lights from the church windows cast their feet colorfully, and the golden street lamps were above their heads. They looked happy and peaceful, like angels sent by God to welcome pure souls.Harry gazed almost greedily at the faces of his parents, who were both smiling.

After a few seconds, Harry turned back decisively, tearfully, back to Hermione.If he was too far away from Hermione, it would be too late to help if something happened.Hermione was squatting next to a tombstone, sweeping the snow off it with her hands.She was so focused, completely unaware that Harry had left and returned to the graveyard again.

Harry found a black tombstone far from his parents' grave, and leaned against it.He leaned against the cold marble headstone, watching Hermione's brown hair peek out from behind another headstone.She was moving, and so was he.Their bodies were warm and their hearts were beating, and only two of them were alive in the entire cemetery.Looking at the rows of tombstones, Harry felt terribly oppressed by the thought of death, new or old.

He wished desperately that he should die.Not some day in the future, but now.For the current Harry, life was still a combination of nightmares and tragedies, and he desperately wanted to get rid of them, no matter what way.

But everyone gave various reasons why he couldn't do it.

The mood that belonged to Harry Potter, which had been suppressed under the sense of responsibility for several months, was crazily pounding against the barrier, and the gradually weakening frame of the savior was beaten to the ground.Hermione was moving, her boots crunching on the snow.Harry squatted down against the tombstone, and he found himself shaking violently all over.He tore his hair vigorously with both hands, trying his best to suppress his choking sound.

17 years.He had never been so close to his parents.It's not the soul, it's the bones of the flesh that were once alive. Even if they are rotting now, he still wants to dig up the tombstones, dig up the frozen and hard soil, kiss their faces, and hold the warm hands that once hugged him.If Hermione had told that thought, she might have said sorry, might have looked at him with big tear-filled eyes and called his name.But these are not what he wants.

Suddenly, Ron's words jumped into his mind. "How do you understand! How dare you say you understand! You have never had the memory of living with your parents and brothers who are connected by blood, how can you understand!"

That's right.He really couldn't understand what it was like to be separated from his parents, just because he never had one.But they also can't understand the feeling of longing for their parents!How could they understand his grievance?While every birthday kid happily unwraps presents and blows out the candles, he just sits in the cupboard, waiting to receive some very "generous" gifts.Every Christmas, when the children joyfully follow their parents to church, he can only hide in the small darkness and sing Christmas carols in a low voice, praying, facing the sky, but there is only a cobweb-covered tree in front of him. Low ceilings.During each of the 11 years, he was alienated by his classmates, bullied by older children, and watched his aunt and uncle live happily with Dudley. He could only cry alone in the middle of the night, embracing his own Shoulders pretending to be parents standing behind him.

How could they understand this?Complaining about not being valued by parents, but receiving gifts from parents every Christmas!They have been living under the protection of their parents, they have peace when they are sad, they have corrections when they make mistakes, they have encouragement when they succeed, and they have support when they are bullied. How could they who have been so weak understand! !

Now he is so close to his parents!Less than thirty feet away!He wanted to pounce on the tombstone and kiss it, to crawl under the dirt and sleep among them and never wake up again.His life should have ended on that night many years ago, but in the blink of an eye, 16 years have passed.He is no longer the child in the statue that is less than an arm long. His hands are already bigger than his mother, and he has heavy responsibilities on his shoulders.He can no longer be cuddled and teased by someone in his arms, or ride a broom willfully to frighten a cat.

Harry gasped for air, as if breathing in would stop the choking.His tears turned into icy salt water in the cold wind, stinging his cheeks.The singing in the church became quieter, and the faint singing sounded like the hovering and whispering of the soul, and Harry looked up, imagining his parents beside him, stroking his head with gentle hands.

Tears froze on his face.Hermione was walking towards him.She had a little notebook in her hand, and must have copied down what she was looking for.But no sword.Seeing Harry's face, she silently put away the notebook and gave him a hug.

"I'm fine," Harry said as calmly as possible, "I'm sorry I didn't help you just now, I'm a little confused. Now we have to think about where Dumbledore might have kept the sword, my house, his own house, or Bathilda Bagshot's house. I'd like to go to Bagshot's house last, she gave Skeeter that information, maybe before I ask where the sword is, I can't help cursing her out of bed."

The author has something to say: There is a universally applicable principle in literary theory, which is to know people and discuss the world.From the perspective of the other party and the era in which he lives, we can understand why he has such thoughts.If I expand it a bit, it can be said to be material or experience.This is the resonance that I have always paid great attention to.Write an article, if you want to be true, if you want to write it to make people who have similar experiences smile knowingly, then the author must go to a similar place to experience it, or have his own experience.If you don’t live in the countryside for a long time, it’s hard to write about the country. If you stay in the first-tier cities for a short time, it’s hard to experience the real life in the first-tier cities. People's lives are also different.It’s as if I’m waiting for poor B, and I’ll never understand the feeling of walking on the street in high heels, seeing the person I’m waiting for, and throwing a sip of brand X milk tea into the trash can.I'll take a few sips to drink it up, and as for choking or hiccupping, that's all for later, lol.So I won't write these things, I can't control them.

There are also some very good actors, such as AR, when he plays SS, he will turn into SS, and he will be very irritable for a period of time.There is also Tony Leung, and occasionally the roles he played will reappear in him.If you are a certain character, you will say and do what you will do under certain circumstances. Only by fully substituting yourself and incarnating as a character can you act alive.Writing is the same.

Speaking of so much nonsense, I actually want to say that I will try to substitute as much as possible when writing, but this substitution may not be in place.After I decided to put myself in the completion progress bar, most of the comments below my Kaying article said that the psychology is in place. That's because I like Kakashi myself, so I know.But Xiaoha, I don't know.I have tried my best to understand Xiaoha's feelings, but because my own family is good, there are very few friends whose families are not satisfactory and have no orphans.And I am more Buddhist, I don’t have much will to survive, what do people who can’t understand the pain but still want to live think.After all, empathy is limited. I can't guarantee that I can write this feeling well. If there is any friend who is willing to help, you can share it.

But as for Xiaoha's feelings, I would rather speculate on his thoughts forever, and I hope everyone will do the same.May you never get what you need to lose to get.