Harriet Potter

I was lying on the cot in the attic of the Burrow, and this time Hermione was on the other side of the partition, and she slept so peacefully that the only sound in the small space was the monotonous humming and banging of ghouls.Mrs. Weasley had wanted one of us to live with Ginny, but since Hermione and Ron refused to explain to anyone the reasons for their breakup, some rumors had inevitably reached the others, and They're both visibly depressed by it, and it's not surprising that Hermione and Ginny—the Weasleys, in fact—have become awkward.For me, rather than dealing with Ginny's insinuations, it's obviously a better option to squeeze the attic with Hermione and a ghoul.

I can fall asleep if I clear my mind, I'm pretty sure of that.Snape taught me to turn thoughts into walls and knives, to snatch emotions and memories from other people's minds, and falling asleep despite the prying eyes of darkness and nightmares is now easier for me.But that's kind of like... cheating, I haven't slept surrounded by thoughts for a long time, my mind never lets me go, sometimes I don't want to escape it that much.

The grandfather clock downstairs rang dully, it was twelve o'clock at midnight, and I held my breath.The bell struck another, and then another, in the midst of my preoccupation, and I felt nothing ripped from me, no sudden weight upon me.Finally the night fell silent and I looked at the mottled ceiling of the attic and thought I was 17, I was an adult.

From a certain point of view, this means a lot: I am free from Zongsi's surveillance, and the Ministry of Magic can no longer arrest me for juvenile abuse of magic; at the same time, I can make decisions completely independently, "she is still a The child" excuse no longer applies.Simply put, now I can go anywhere and do anything I can.Maybe I should cast a spell to celebrate, a silent Lumos that wouldn't bother anyone else, but instead I pushed my wand deeper under my pillow and rubbed the scar on my forehead.Voldemort probably also knows that after this moment he no longer has the means to monitor my location, and I have lost the protection my mother left in my blood. An invasion may be the gift he intends to give me.

The scar on my forehead has been aching again since arriving at the Burrow, and I've turned the invitation back several times, so I have no way of knowing whether Voldemort did it on purpose, or if his mutilated soul has begun to corrupt his mind integrity.Dumbledore said that invading my mind would make him feel unbearable pain, but the pain is just pain. Voldemort may be the person I know who is most afraid of death, but I doubt a man who can tear his soul into pieces People who have been broken into pieces and wandered in the form of wandering spirits for more than ten years waiting for a chance to be resurrected will be afraid of pain.

Or, what's going on right now is just a girl who just passed her No. 17 year and is lying in bed thinking.I think there must be thousands of girls entering their adulthood at this moment, who may also be witches, or even Harriet Potter; Doing things differently, having or having assumed different responsibilities; they may be sleeping now, or just as sleepless at night.

There are so many Harriet Potters in the world, I thought, each of them unique - and yet I was the only one who was going to face Voldemort.

Be the one who knows how he will die.

The darkness turned into a cold lake in the cave, and the Inferi's slimy hands dragged me down.I jumped out of bed and came to the only small window in the attic. The night wind with the scent of grass and trees was blowing on my face, dispelling the stench from the ghouls. I took a deep breath, and the suffocation gradually disappeared. .

"Harry?" came Hermione's sleepy voice, probably awakened by the creaking of planks under my feet.

"I'm fine." I whispered, if she didn't hear my response, she would definitely get up and see what happened.

Hearing that Hermione turned over and went back to sleep, I continued to look out of the Burrow window.The moonlight tonight is very bright, and the outlines of the mountains in the sky are clearly discernible. Under the silver light, the forests and bushes are even more shadowy. Vague.This was probably the best fence I've ever seen around the Burrow, and it was now a sharp line, marking the last and strongest of the protective spells.Although I couldn't see anyone, I knew there were members of the Order of the Phoenix downstairs on duty. Anyone who tried to cross the fence after nine o'clock in the evening and before six o'clock in the morning would be immediately met with fire from three different directions. attack.

People who want to enter the Burrow during the day must also prove their identity, which adds a lot of trouble to the holding of Bill's wedding the day after tomorrow. The Order of the Phoenix had to set a password in part of the invitation letters sent out to verify the huge number of people. The identities of Weasley's old acquaintances who have not been seen for a long time.But many of them just see it as attending a distant relative's wedding - which it is - and don't take those security measures as seriously as the Order of the Phoenix, which has had trouble with two groups of people who forgot their passwords today We broke up unhappy, and I think there will be more such things tomorrow.

In addition, even though the capacity of the Burrow always surprises me, after the entire Weasley family and half of the Order of the Phoenix have moved in, this patchwork building is obviously overwhelmed.Some guests had to camp overnight in the open space, and the camp would probably become overcrowded tomorrow night.The most conspicuous of the tents by the campfire belonged to Hagrid, and it was huge and askew, as if it had been stepped on by some large creature and barely snapped back together.

Hagrid declared at dinner that he would be the last line of defense before the Burrow, throwing all the intruders down the mountain. Everyone laughed and joked that he should not crush the other guests' tents first, but no one doubted his seriousness.The most he's ever done in his life is probably rumbling towards something he decides to protect, taking all the blows and beating the world if necessary, no matter if it's a poisonous beast or a puny child.Hagrid's large size and thick skin, inherited from his giant mother, allowed him to remain largely unscathed, yet a person's choice to do so had little to do with whether he had it or not.Four nights ago when I was surrounded by Death Eaters, I begged him to come back within range of the Dursleys' protective spell, but he insisted on driving me through the blockade on the shattered motorcycle and delivered me to the intended destination. Place.

No one mentioned it to me, but no one ever forgot the price the Order paid for my safe transfer to the Burrow.We lost Mad-Eye Moody, Bill and Remus spent the night searching for his body, but they were still one step behind the Death Eaters, who took away Moody's most iconic magic eye; George lost One ear, no matter how much "hole listening" he and Fred joked about, I couldn't get used to the dark hole on the side of his head.And Hedwig, the proud snowy owl who has been my faithful companion for the past few years, bringing me the news that I'm not alone, fell to the bottom of her cage that night with a scream in the green light .

Memories of that scene reminded me that I didn't actually know how I was going to die.A hand that falls into the water and doesn't reach out in time, or gets hit in the melee like Hedwig with a spell that isn't even aimed at me, death doesn't wait until the moment I decide to choose it, I never knew I was still How long, now also do not know.I had no idea how things were going to happen, only what I was going to die for, knowing that I couldn't be part of the future I was fighting for.

What if I die before my due time?Dumbledore had said it was important that Voldemort did it himself, but he didn't say what would happen if that wasn't the case - or maybe it was just that I didn't have time to see his clarification in Snape's head.Would the shard of Voldemort's soul within me still be destroyed if I were merely killed by a sleazy thief who happened to swing the knife well?Or is it just me who dies and it takes over my body?Dumbledore wanted me to complete the task he gave me with hope first, but when I learned of my end unexpectedly, he neither erased my memory and brought everything back to the intended track, nor told me more .In fact after thinking it over and over for the past month, I realized that he told me so little and left me to do far more than I knew I was capable of.

"The last words Albus Dumbledore said to us both?"

"'Harriet is our dearest hope. Trust her.'"

That night Lupine and Kingsley, having exchanged passwords, were absorbed in arguing about the leak of the plan, as if they had only got a couple of sentences in and everything was going well.Dumbledore left that trust with me, and I interrupted their argument to announce loudly that I trusted all of them and wanted them to trust each other.This is true, and I can't imagine any of them revealing their plans to the Death Eaters, putting their family and friends in danger.Idealism?Obviously, but I can't give them anything more than that, and Dumbledore hasn't told me anything that I can afford to trust.What can I say to them?I was doomed to die at the hands of Voldemort so all their adventures and sacrifices were in vain?Snape was ordered to kill Dumbledore so their hatred was directed at the wrong person?But I agreed to the plan that might have cost thirteen lives, and put my hair in the Polyjuice Potion; Snape was still lurking among the Death Eaters, and the fact that he wounded George was beyond doubt.All I could tell them was that Dumbledore had left me with a task that I had to drop out of to finish it and not tell anyone the details, pretending I knew what to do.

"Dumbledore's man through and through," said Rufus Scrimgeour contemptuously.

I say I am.The Kingsley Lupines believed in Dumbledore because they knew he would try to keep them alive, so what am I for? —does it matter when I die to fulfill a dead man's wish?

A pudgy figure in a nightgown appeared in the clearing, and I stopped pondering unanswered questions to watch Mrs Weasley tiptoe around a tent and cast a few spells over the campfire.Others had cast spells before going to bed to make sure the fire didn't go out or set the surrounding tents ablaze with the night wind, but this was Mrs Weasley, and she never stopped worrying.Molly Weasley may be the closest thing to a mother in my life. The experience of raising seven children is enough to exhaust any woman's vitality and enthusiasm, but she can always love and care for more people, bear Worries and fears that come from caring, but never lose courage.

Mrs. Weasley tiptoed back to the house again, whispering to a corner I couldn't see, beckoning the commune shift, I presume, to hot coffee and pastries.Then she'd go up and down the Burrow again, making sure everyone was sound asleep in their beds.I slipped back into bed, cleared my mind, and ordered myself to fall asleep before she reached the attic.

It worked, and I didn't even hear her footsteps coming up.

The author has something to say: I can make my Harry talk to me like this tens of thousands of words, can you believe it...