The days of hanging out at Hogwarts

The road sign was cut into an arrow shape, the paint on it had faded, and the remaining words were barely recognizable, pointing in two different directions:

"Big Hangleton, 5 miles ahead"

"Little Hangleton, 1 mile ahead"

Harry looked back at the road sign that was getting smaller and smaller, and looked around at the hedges, feeling a little dazed. He had seen these scenes before, in the meditation basin, in Bob Ogden's memory when he was young, about fifty years ago.

Going along the path leading to Little Hangleton, turning right before entering the village, and entering an inconspicuous fork in the road, there was a narrower and steeper dirt road in front of him, with wild weeds and shrubs mixed together, rocks and potholes everywhere, and the footprints of the past had disappeared.

The road under my feet was rugged and difficult to walk on. Fortunately, it didn't rain, so there would be no stubborn mud sticking to the soles of my shoes. Walking into the woods along the dirt road, my vision suddenly darkened. The dense and lush branches blocked the sky, and the ground was covered with tangled tree roots, as twisted as pythons.

Loren led everyone into the woods, with a nostalgic expression on his face.

Some of them couldn't remember the way, otherwise they would have taken them there directly by Apparition, and there would be no need to make such a difficult trek.

So the question is, why didn't Dumbledore use Apparition when he brought him here last time?

Oh, he was not familiar with the road either, that's fine.

As a residence for wizards who hide their identities, the location of the Gaunt old house is very good. It is next to the Muggle village of Little Hangleton, and they can rely on them to obtain necessary living supplies. It is far away from human habitation and the terrain is complex and chaotic. If there is trouble, even if all the Aurors of the Ministry of Magic are dispatched, the wizards of the Gaunt family can easily blend into the woods and deal with it by relying on their familiar terrain and Parseltongue.

It's a pity that such an ancient and powerful wizard family, the direct descendants of Slytherin, was actually destroyed from within.

The proud and conceited concept of the pure-blood family led to long-term inbreeding. Until the generation of Marvolo Gaunt, his personality was distorted and close to madness. He instilled abnormal ideas into his son Morfin and suppressed and abused his daughter Merope... Marvolo could never have foreseen the ending of the Gaunt family. His daughter with a distorted personality gave birth to a monster with a distorted personality but outstanding talent, and buried the last bloodline of the Gaunt family with his own hands.

The whole process fully confirmed the saying that the precursor of destruction is madness.

Passing by an old tree whose age could not be seen, the air suddenly became a little more eerie. The surroundings were silent and cold. There was no sound of any birds, but there was a slight rustling sound coming from the weeds and treetops.

"Hiss..."

Turning his head suddenly to look at the source of the sound, he could see snakes of various sizes, not afraid of people at all, spitting out their tongues and looking at them.

Continuing forward, a dilapidated and weird old house came into view.

Dense nettles grew around the house. The cold and humid air made moss spread along the wall. Wild grass poked out from the cracks in the stone wall. Parasitic vines grew wantonly. Half of the door had collapsed, and the remaining half was slightly open, with strange snake-shaped metal ornaments on it.

"..."

Ron swallowed his saliva, his face full of resistance.

The two ladies were in a relatively stable mental state, but they were a little hairy in their hearts, and a layer of goose bumps appeared on their arms.

"Gaunt's old house, where Fu Lingji thought we should come and see."

Loren said softly, stepping on the remains of the venomous snake and fallen leaves and entering the house.

Several houses have collapsed, some of which could not support themselves due to years of disrepair, and some were collapsed by Loren last time. The old principal who led the way had no sense of public morality. He took other people's things and did not think about repairing them before leaving.

There were snake skeletons with corroded skin and flesh hanging everywhere, the old stove was full of gaps, the shelves on the wall were broken, and dirty pots and pans were scattered all over the floor. The broken walls were in a mess, and it was impossible to tell which was the kitchen, which was the bedroom, and which was the living room...

"Is there anything left by Voldemort here?" Loren turned to look at Harry.

I had searched it last time. Except for the Horcrux ring he took away, there were only ordinary things here. Occasionally, some items still had weak magic power, but they were basically not worth studying, such as the door lock of the main door.

"I don't know..."

Harry touched his forehead. This time the scar did not react. He closed his eyes and quietly felt the guidance of the Felixir. After a moment, he opened his eyes, came to the wall, bent down, dug out those miscellaneous things, and took out a broken jar.

"Is this thing special?" Ron approached curiously.

Harry looked at the shape of the jar and felt vaguely familiar. Recalling the scene he saw in the Pensieve, he explained in a trance: "Nothing special, just an ordinary jar. Merope Gaunt accidentally broke it and was scolded by Marvolo Gaunt."

"Voldemort's mother..."

Ron sighed.

Loren looked around and said to him: "Everything here belongs to the Gaunt family. Not only Voldemort's mother used it, but also Voldemort's uncle and Voldemort's grandfather. If you are interested, you can collect a few pieces. Maybe you can sell them for a high price."

"..."

Ron was silent for a while and glanced at him: "There are a lot of such pottery in my family, some of which are handed down from my ancestors. Maybe some of them have been used by a legendary wizard. If they can be sold, they would have been sold long ago."

"They are definitely not as famous as Voldemort."

"No matter how famous they are, they are still rubbish!"

They were not fooled.

Others couldn't help but smile.

Harry didn't know what the purpose of this clay pot was. After all, the Elixir of Fortune was not a magic mirror and could not answer all his questions. He just found this thing based on his intuition, put it into the storage scale, and waited for the right time to play the right role. .

When the few people left, they did not take the detour again, but collectively apparated. The next place was not far from here, on the mountain behind Little Hangleton.

Unknown weeds grow on the wilderness cemetery. Not far away is an abandoned church. The remains of stone sculptures are scattered everywhere and sunk in the soil. The yew tree of unknown age is particularly strong and stands there alone, like a tall tombstone.

Standing here, you can see the outline of Riddle House and Tom Riddle's grave, as if there is some unknown and solemn atmosphere lingering there.

Not far away is the place where the resurrection ceremony is held. There are still dark traces of firewood on the ground, and the surrounding grass is exceptionally lush.

"This is where Voldemort was resurrected." Harry knelt down, picked up a branch and raked the grass. "The pain in the scar this time was very slight. My intuition told me that I knew what I was looking for was under these grass roots."

"These weeds are more lush than other places. Are they irrigated by the magic potion of the resurrection ceremony?" Hermione turned to look at Loren and asked in confusion.

"Nourished by flesh and blood, Mr. Crouch's flesh and blood."

Loren paused and lowered his voice, "Crouch died right after Voldemort escaped from his parasitic body, and his bones fell here. The staff of the Ministry of Magic only collected his bones the next day, and some of his flesh and blood were left here. ”

As he finished speaking, Harry had already dug up the shallow soil, and a faint smell of rotting limbs filled the air.

Looking down, the soil near the grass roots is a little darker.