[HP] The Tweed River flows

There has never been a reunion for no reason in the world, and every encounter is the beginning of a story.Only by fate can we meet again after seven years apart.This kind of thinking fascinated me for a time, and even made me forget that I never believed in fate.Maybe people are like this, doubt when they should believe, but start to look forward to these non-existent things when they shouldn't believe.

I keep comparing the Paris in my memory with the Paris now, and I have to admit that he is much more handsome now than before.I remember him as a fat little boy with thick shoulders and a strong physique.His flaxen curly hair was disheveled, and his cheekbones and nose were covered with hazel freckles.But it's completely different now.His whole body was elongated, and he was much taller.Broad shoulders and long legs.The round cheeks are defined and the curls are no longer messy.I only remember his friendly and trustworthy gaze, but for the first time I noticed that his eyes were beautifully colored, like lake water reflecting the sky without any impurities.

I loved my time with Paris, but we no longer saw each other like we did when we were kids.He always has a lot of things to do: help his father take care of the new horses, prepare a new house for his younger brother who is about to return to China, and even in his rare free time, he often follows a seven or eight-year-old girl by his side. .Paris said she was a neighbor's youngest daughter, who was babysitting for a while while her parents were in town for business.

"You're so busy," I glanced at Paris and then at the little girl.She was petite, with blond hair, and stared at me with her lips pursed, with a conflicted expression, as if she was very unhappy.I leaned down and asked her name in a very gentle tone. It was probably the first time in my life that I showed rare patience and friendliness to children.As a result, the little girl turned her eyes away and ignored me at all. Instead, she raised her head and asked Paris, "Who is she?"

Paris was a little embarrassed, "Be polite, Lilian. This sister doesn't live in the village, so it's normal that you don't know her. Her name is Helena, and we will meet often in the future."

"But I don't want to meet her, I just want to hang out with you."

"Come on, be nice. Helena is my friend, and I don't want you to say something like that again."

Lillian showed no sign of friendliness.She stared straight at me, and then said something that surprised us both:

"You're not a witch, are you?"

Paris was furious, and I was choked for an instant.witch?Although I knew it was an insulting title in the eyes of Muggles, my first reaction was - am I that old?

"Who taught you to speak like this?" His expression became extremely serious, "Lillian, please apologize!"

Paris' stern look was so funny that I tried so hard to resist the urge to laugh that the muscles on my face were going stiff.I know I should look hurt, but Lillian is telling the truth.Although I knew that this little girl couldn't really know that I was a witch, I was a little surprised that I was not nervous at all when someone said that to my face, and I was still able to watch the excitement with great interest.Maybe it's because Paris and I have known each other for so long that we don't have to worry about insignificant differences like magic getting in the way of our friendship.

"I'm just reminding you," Lillian shrugged nonchalantly, glanced at me, and continued to Paris: "Grandma used to say that there are often old witches in the forest who use witchcraft to turn themselves into young and beautiful girls. Then bring disaster and disease to those who are deluded by them. I said this because I was worried about you."

Who could stand such vicious accusations?What's more, in front of my face.I'm a little annoyed.Ignorant people always like to speculate maliciously about things they don't understand. Muggles are the most obvious example.How could they fabricate such absurd and stupid stories out of thin air and pass them down from generation to generation.The most exasperating thing is that I can't even defend myself.How annoying it is not to be able to refute these fallacies on the spot!

"Enough, Lillian! What's wrong with you today? As I said, Helena is my friend, and we've known each other for many years. How could she be a witch?" Paris was really angry, and his tone became very Bluntly, "Have you forgotten all the manners your sister taught you?"

"Okay, okay," Lillian pouted, as if a little aggrieved, "I'm just talking casually, can't it be a joke?"

"How can such a thing be used as a joke?" Paris looked dissatisfied, turned to me, and his face finally eased, "I'm really sorry, Helena. I apologize to you on her behalf. She is not usually like this , I don’t know what happened to her today. It’s all children’s nonsense, she’s heard too many stories from old people. Don’t take it to heart.”

"It's okay," I replied, but I was thinking about other things in my heart.Paris is also a Muggle, does he also believe these nonsense?If I told him that wizards aren't like that at all, and magic isn't scary.Will he believe me, or will he believe the stories he's heard growing up?What would he think if I told him I was really a witch?If these are still unknowns that can be clarified later, but one thing is certain: Lillian doesn't like me, and I don't like her either.

For a long time, I have always felt that Paris was a gift from heaven.I clearly remember that when he appeared for the first time, he cleared away the gloom in my heart and became a bright color in my dark childhood; the second time he appeared was in the boring days after I graduated , making my return to Tweed less boring.Our time together would have been perfect without Lillian's interruption.Lie in the shade of the trees, read a book, chat, taste fresh raspberries and mulberries, or just sit on the grass slope and watch the smoke rising from the downstream village.He became my friend when I needed it the most, and when I was looking forward to love, he appeared as a perfect lover in every way.My childhood sweetheart, reunited after a long absence, it was only a matter of course that I fell in love with Paris.

But is this really the case?

The reality warned me as a little girl that everything is not as simple as I imagined.I gradually realized that there had always been an unbridgeable gap between me and Paris. Two people on different sides could talk and meet, but they could never really stand together.However, the process of crossing the chasm is full of dangers. Many wizards and witches have fallen into the abyss beyond redemption in the process of struggling to break through the obstacles.All kinds of thoughts linger in my mind, which makes me really uneasy.But at the same time, I was trying to convince myself that Paris was not such an unreasonable person, he understood me, and he didn't show too strong prejudice against magic.I simply thought that if only we could bridge this gap, we would be able to bridge these two discontinuous worlds.It's just that I didn't expect that the real obstacles between us were more than that.

When I was thinking wildly by myself, an unexpected good news made me temporarily put down my worries.

Like any normal morning before, I sat at the dresser brushing my hair and was about to head downstairs for breakfast.At this moment, an owl flew in through the open window and landed in front of me.

Searle has written.

I untied the scroll and planned to read it after breakfast, but the owl flapped its wings and brought the scroll to me again.What news did she want me to know in such a hurry?

I opened the scroll with some confusion, and the first line of words came into view, and I almost dropped the letter paper on the ground with a flick of my wrist:

"Dear Helena, I'm getting married!"