公交车挺进艳妇

Chapter 349: The Last Enemy

The opponent was the mighty Gryffindor. Not any wizard had the qualification to challenge him, which in itself was a recognition of his father’s strength.

He walked a few steps forward to the black stone platform and felt his legs trembling.

Next to him, the Centaur Magorian looked at him expressionlessly, with a trace of impatience on his face.

The elder retreated completely into the shadows without a sound.

Harry took a deep breath and was ready for the challenge.

Instead of looking back at everyone’s encouraging eyes, he clenched his fists and kept telling himself in a low voice not to be afraid, no matter what he would see in the illusion, he could not shrink back.

Maybe he could come to a duel with Gryffindor as his father did, or face countless Acromantulas and Dementors like Ron. None of this was a problem. But if he had to be tested for magic theory like Hermione, that wouldn’t be what he was good at.

Harry was lost in various fancies and conjectures, and when he came back to his senses, he discovered that he had entered the illusion.

It was still late at night, and the stars in the night sky had not changed much.

A gust of cold wind blew through, and Harry couldn’t help shivering.

He pulled his robe and found himself standing on a dark street.

It was not Hogwarts or Privet Drive. He was sure he had never been to this place before, but he had an indescribable sense of familiarity.

“Lumos!” Harry pulled out his wand and looked around with vigilance.

He was standing in a small alley, with big, shabby houses on both sides of the narrow alley, all dark and unlighted, without even a sound.

Not far ahead was a small square, which was the center of the small village.

Harry stepped forward, the cold wind at night pinned down his cheeks, passing through more houses, all dark and inhabited.

Getting closer and closer to the square, Harry saw a giant statue of a wizard in the middle, holding his wand in front of him with his left hand and a silver sword in his right hand, which was very similar to the image of Gryffindor described by Evan and Hermione. Perhaps, this was him.

Just as he looked at the statue, there was a sudden sound of fighting and a woman’s hoarse and exhaustive cry in a house in front of him.

Harry looked up in a hurry and saw that the door of the house was open, and a faint candlelight in a room on the first floor stood out in the darkness.

His heart was beating so hard that it almost jumped to his throat.

No doubt, the test that he would face was in this house. He didn’t know what was awaiting him, and the darkness around him was oppressing to the extreme.

“Anybody here?” Harry ran to the door and shouted. “Who’s in there?”

No one responded to him. The hall on the ground floor was a mess. It clearly had just experienced a fierce duel. Someone broke into the room from outside.

Harry took a few steps inside and suddenly stopped in front of the fireplace. He couldn’t believe it. He looked at the picture on it. It was his parents. His mother was holding a baby in her arms, and her face was filled with a happy smile.

Harry finally knew where he was. It was his home.

“This is Godric’s Hollow; this is my home, where I was born!” Harry’s heart was almost at a standstill, and he could not believe what was going on in front of him.

He even forgot that this was an illusion created by Gryffindor. He had only one idea in his mind. He went home, back to the place that used to be his home.

If there were no Voldemort, he would have grown up here and spent every vacation.

He would invite friends over to play, and maybe even have a younger brother or sister. His mother would make him a birthday cake instead of him celebrating alone.

Harry wiped the tears that suddenly burst out of his eyes. When he looked at his parents’ old photo before, he had imagined this kind of thing more than once. Just as he was about to look closely around, there was a scream and plea from a woman upstairs. It was the voice he heard when he met Dementors. It was his mother’s cry!

Harry finally understood that this was the night Voldemort broke into his home, and the unfortunate events that would affect his life were about to happen.

Without hesitation, he rushed to the first floor.

Harry knew he had to hurry. He wanted to see his parents, and if he was fast enough, he could even save them from Voldemort.

He exerted all his strength and held the wand in his hand. Harry panted up the stairs, and then he saw a man with a black hood standing at the top of the stairs grinning coldly, laughing so cruelly.

At his feet, a man and a woman were lying.

Inside the corner of the room was a small crib, in which a child was making a weak cry.

“No!” Harry shouted. He knew that the two people on the ground were his parents. They were dead. They were killed by Voldemort!

In a minute, it was his turn.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry shouted, rushing over regardless.

Voldemort let Harry’s spell slightly pass. He waved his wand quickly, and a blue-green light hit Harry as he pounced on him.

Harry fell down. He didn’t know what magic Voldemort had cast on him. It seemed to be a Petrification curse. He couldn’t control his body, but his mind was exceptionally clear.

He saw his father in the pool of blood, and his eyes turned hollow, devoid of all willingness.

His father’s right hand forced forward, as if he wanted to hold his mother’s hand before he died, but it fell on the floor.

Harry wanted to scream, but he couldn’t make a sound.

He could only watch Voldemort approaching his crib step by step, his cold voice, and then a dark green flash of light.

Voldemort sent a burst of screams. His evil curse was rebounded to knock him down. He escaped through the window in a black smoke.

Harry cried so badly that he felt a deep pain from the scar on his forehead, and the world in front of him was rapidly shattering.

He knew that he was about to leave here and return to reality. He tried to look at his parents and hoped to see them again for a last time.

“You failed, courageous as you are, you can’t overcome yourself. Remember, the last enemy to be destroyed is death!”

A charismatic male voice sounded from the void. Harry’s last impression was that he did not understand the meaning of the sentence.

Harry was still immersed in the great grief of his parents’ death and his hatred for Voldemort.

By the time he regained consciousness, he had already returned to the Temple of the Centaurs. He was kneeling on the black platform, silently weeping.