Chapter 653 Fertile

Soil In the round room of the headmaster's office.

Dumbledore sat in a chair behind the long-legged table, lowering his head to examine a wand carefully. He looked a little tired, especially from Harry's angle, the wrinkles on his face were as obvious as the brown eggshells left on a boiled egg.

"Good evening, sir." Harry broke the silence.

"Ah, good evening, Harry." Dumbledore raised his head from under his half-moon glasses - which made the wrinkles on his forehead more visible, and he said with a smile: "Please sit down, Poppy told me that you were discharged from the hospital today, and I thought it would not be a bad idea to move the course to next week."

Harry didn't know how to respond, he said "um", moved a chair over and sat opposite Dumbledore.

"Poppy said you're fine, but I still want to confirm it myself - you don't feel any discomfort anymore, do you?"

"No," Harry said hurriedly, pushing aside the hair that was blocking his forehead. The scar there was a thin layer of blood scab. "It hasn't caused me any trouble since I woke up. Instead, my nose has been itching. Madam Pomfrey carefully recorded it for two days, until later I found the pygmy puff that Ginny dropped under the bed... I think it's because of the Resurrection Stone." He took off the black gem ring on his hand and put it on the table.

"I don't need it now, sir."

Dumbledore smiled and listened with relish.

"The time in the school hospital is indeed difficult... So your friend gave you a travel journal? I read two pages, and it seems to be recorded in a long time."

"Well," Harry said carefully, "I found it in the library during the Christmas holiday... Ron knew that I was reading this book recently, so he brought it to me to kill time."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding.

"Sir, whose wand is this?" Harry couldn't help asking. He looked at the white wand on the table. The whole wand seemed to be made of the bones of some creature. One end of the handle was carved into the shape of a beast's claw, with irregular spikes attached.

"This is yew wood, and its core is made of phoenix feathers--" Dumbledore turned his eyes to the side. Harry followed his gaze and saw Fawkes standing on a branch to take a nap. Harry suddenly had an idea and blurted out:

"Is this Voldemort's wand?"

His voice was so loud that even Fawkes was awakened. He glanced at Harry in a reproachful manner and hid his head in his wings. The portrait of the headmaster hanging on the wall of the circular office secretly raised his eyes to look at them.

"This is Voldemort's wand," Dumbledore repeated. "On Christmas Day of your fourth year, Felix and I raided Voldemort's hideout. He hadn't resurrected yet and had to flee in a panic. This is one of the spoils." Harry

stared at the yew wand unwillingly. Voldemort killed his parents with it and left himself with an incurable scar...

"Harry, Harry!"

Harry came back to his senses and saw Dumbledore put the wand in the drawer.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry whispered.

"No need to say sorry, Harry." Dumbledore paused for a moment, then said in a formal tone: "I'm sure you already know why we're sitting together on a weekend night. Although I'm welcome to chat with me if you want to, we obviously have a more important mission."

"Yes, I know," Harry said, "You said you had a way to deal with the soul fragment in my mind."

"Yes, that's right." Dumbledore said, "You'll find that my method is slightly different from Felix's. I need you to get more involved and know what you want to do. For this, we need--"

He stretched out his hand, and the cabinet door behind Harry suddenly opened, and a shallow stone basin flew out of it and landed steadily on the table between the two of them.

"--Pensieve." He finished his words.

Harry stared at the Pensieve blankly, not understanding the relationship between them. He asked tentatively, "Do you want me to learn something?" For example, some advanced magic, Harry guessed in his heart.

"To be precise, it's witnessing something." Dumbledore said, shaking his finger at him. A small crystal bottle as thick as a thumb appeared in the raised hand. He unscrewed the cork and poured the silver memory that was spinning and floating like cotton wool into the stone basin.

"Whose memory is this, sir?" Harry asked curiously.

"Mine." Dumbledore said briefly: "Let's go in and talk about it. I have to leave enough time for discussion. You go first."

Harry took a deep breath and plunged into the memory of the Pensieve. As he continued to fall, he felt a solid touch under his feet. He opened his eyes and kept searching. Because according to past experience, the owner of the memory must be nearby.

Then, he saw it.

In front of him was a small gray village with low and dilapidated houses, which had a sense of age. There were green and brown blocks everywhere around. But this was not the point. He found a little boy with reddish-brown hair under a big tree. He was about eight or nine years old. He was staring at his palm very attentively.

Harry took a few steps closer and realized that he was wrong. There was a leaf floating in the boy's hand. Harry was quite sure that the boy had not chanted any spells, but the leaves kept changing colors.

"That's me." At this time, Dumbledore appeared beside Harry and introduced.

They watched quietly for a few minutes, and the scene had not changed, which made Harry a little impatient. From this, he also discovered the first advantage of the boy - or Dumbledore in his childhood - patience.

The boy had obviously been here for a long time, which could be seen from the pile of leaves of different colors beside him. But he had never shown any impatience. Now he had fixed the leaves between red and brown, constantly adjusting the subtle color changes.

Harry suddenly realized that the boy was going to make the leaves the same color as his hair.

"Albus! Albus - it's time to eat."

Another little boy appeared. He looked two or three years younger than Albus sitting under the tree. The two wore similar clothes, but the later one made himself dirty. Although his hair was also reddish brown, it just looked messy and awkward.

"That's my brother, Aberforth." Dumbledore said at the right time.

Aberforth ran over, panting, his face flushed. "Albus, it's time for dinner!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "Wait a moment - it will be ready soon," said Albus. After more than ten seconds, he finally stopped with a satisfied smile on his face.

Now the leaf was finally the same color as his hair.

"Let's go," he said briskly.

"Ah, you are practicing magic in secret again!" Aberforth seemed to have just realized it and shouted, "I'm going to tell my parents, wait for your punishment!"

"Then you can't get the colored leaves."

"Is this for me?"

Aberforth asked in surprise, and was about to reach out for it, but was dodged by Albus.

"I have prepared several pure-colored ones, but - let Ariana choose first." Albus stood up and they walked along a dirt road to the village together.

"Let's follow, Harry." Dumbledore said softly, and Harry found that his voice was a little abnormal. "Let me introduce you to my family..."

When they passed the signpost, Harry saw the name of the village written on a rough piece of wood: Fertile Plains.

He couldn't help but have a question: Didn't the Dumbledore family live in Godric's Hollow? He saw it in the letter his mother wrote to Sirius, and it was definitely not wrong. Did the Dumbledore family move there later?

He was about to ask a question, but seeing that Dumbledore's eyes were a little wet, Harry fell silent. They followed the young brothers in front silently. Harry couldn't help but guess where they lived. He looked far away and picked out a house that suited his taste the most from all the gray and humped houses. He swore that there were many details on the outside of the house that showed the characteristics of wizards' lives.

He walked forward confidently, but the brothers turned a corner. Just when Harry suspected that he was wrong, he saw a beautiful back garden blocked by a thick hedge.

"Ariana! We're back!" Aberforth shouted.

Harry heard a burst of hurried footsteps. He couldn't help but speed up his pace. He was about to walk side by side with the two brothers in his memory. There was a rustling sound, and the tall and dense hedges were separated by a narrow gap, revealing a pair of timid eyes.

"Sir, this is--"

Harry turned around and found that Dumbledore had stopped far away, with a strange expression of fear and longing on his face. Harry suddenly had a strange idea. Maybe Dumbledore was afraid that he would face this scene alone, so he specially called him here.

...

Felix was sitting in the Three Broomsticks, with a glass of iced lemonade on the table.

He had been there for a while. The bar owner, Mrs. Rosmerta, came over and said with gritted teeth: "Mr. Hep, you can't bring those guys here. I still have business to do!"

"But I paid, Mrs. Rosmerta."

"Yes... but they scared away my other customers, and what if they want to bite me tonight? I haven't slept well these days. I'm not complaining... but today is so special. What if they suddenly go crazy, I don't have your ability."

"It's really difficult for you. Why don't you double the consumption during this period, and - I will take them away in a while. As you said, they are indeed a little dangerous today."

"Really?" Mrs. Rosmerta's eyes lit up and she looked relieved. "You should have done this a long time ago, but don't bother with the double pay. As long as you come here more often, many people are looking forward to seeing you here." She covered her mouth and smiled.

"I don't know when I became so popular." Felix said faintly.

"Recently," Madam Rosmerta said seriously, "For example, Carlotta Pinkstone - yes, I know this woman. She lived with me for a while, but now I don't know where she went..." "

Compared to her, I prefer the female Auror whose hair changes color. The jokes she told about witches, healers and Mibo Mibo are simply amazing. Forgive me for not understanding it at the time. She seemed to be sulking for half an hour. If you meet her, please help me. Her jokes are very funny..."

Felix blinked and said, "I will."

Madam Rosmerta turned and left. After a while, she brought a free glass of fire whiskey, but Felix didn't drink a few sips before people came down from upstairs one after another. These people seemed to be cast in the same mold:

wearing ragged and patched clothes, looking haggard, with gloomy faces, and looking around nervously. They were the people Felix invited, werewolves. But when Felix waved at them, they not only did not relax, but became more vigilant.

"Okay, everyone." Felix snapped his fingers, and a dozen heavy money bags fell on the table. "For the sake of gold galleons, I ask you to line up and follow me. I have built a temporary residence for you outside Hogsmeade, and you will spend the next week there."

Felix walked out first.

A group of werewolves looked at each other, and the man did not give them a chance to speak. After a stalemate, a tall and burly man came out, grabbed a money bag and looked inside. The others found that his face seemed to be illuminated by a bright light.

Gulp!

The man swallowed his saliva, put the bag in his arms, and walked out. The other werewolves followed silently.

...

Just before lights out, Harry, looking lost and even a little panicked, came back. He said the command twice like a sleepwalker, and the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open. He went straight in, but was stopped by a hand.

"Harry, what's wrong with you?" Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

"Hermione? I'm fine." Harry muttered.

"How can I be fine? We were standing at the door just now, but you completely ignored us. Ron called you twice." Hermione said softly, and Ron nodded to the side, indicating that what she said was true.

"What did Dumbledore teach you?" Ron asked anxiously. "But no matter what it is, I guess it must be very difficult. You look a bit like Luna." He stared at the expression on Harry's face and said.

Harry still shook his head, "He showed me some memories. Well, I'm not sure... Anyway, let's talk about it tomorrow. Good night." He wanted to go in again. Now he just wanted to lie on the bed and be alone.

But he was stopped again, this time by Ron - the Fat Lady looked unhappy: "Are you going in or not!" - "Don't go, we have to go to the courtyard." Ron looked at Harry who was a little puzzled and winked at him, "Today is a full moon."

"Full moon?" Harry said blankly, and it took him a while to understand the meaning of this sentence.

"Yeah, I guess you don't plan to give up Animagus, right? You can still get a free mandrake leaf," Ron said, frowning, "but I can't, both leaves are used up, I have to help Sprout do labor for a month... or buy it myself, but I think, since there are ready-made ones in the school... Hermione is because -" "

I feel the throbbing of Animagus." Hermione said briefly.

"Great!" Harry gave a thumbs up.

"Are you laughing at me? I know everything." Hermione glared at Harry fiercely. Harry noticed that Ron was quietly fiddling with his nails and muttered quietly: "Well - while you were in class, an interesting thing happened. Hermione showed off to me, and I couldn't help it-"

"I'm not showing off!" Hermione said sharply, and she led the way downstairs.

Ron and Harry exchanged a meaningful look.

"Maybe Hermione should also listen to your unique insights on character flaws, Harry." Ron said.

"I don't want to cause trouble for myself." Harry said immediately.

They came to the courtyard, where Professor McGonagall and some students were already waiting. But Harry keenly noticed that there were fewer people coming today than the first time. "A few gave up." Hermione whispered, she turned her head and looked around, "Why can't I see Professor Happ?"

Professor McGonagall told them this question when she distributed the mandrake leaves.

"Your Professor Hep has asked for leave. He has important things to deal with."

"At this time?" Ernie Macmillan muttered, "It doesn't sound credible."

"But it's true." Professor McGonagall said sternly, "If I were you, I would spend more time on practice, Macmillan."

After distributing new mandrake leaves and listening to some precautions, the students dispersed. Hermione reported her latest progress to Professor McGonagall, and then they returned to the castle.

On the way, Hermione mentioned Dumbledore's class again. Harry was very glad that he had a mandrake leaf in his mouth, which gave him an excuse to talk less, although the leaf in his mouth could not affect him much.

He chatted briefly with Ron and Hermione, and then went back to the dormitory. Ron and Hermione were left looking at each other.

"Is his class not going well?" Ron asked worriedly.

"Maybe Dumbledore showed Harry some shocking memory, and he couldn't accept it for a while..." Hermione whispered, "Although I can't guess what use this has on Harry's scar, Dumbledore must have his reasons. We'll ask him carefully tomorrow."

In the dormitory, Harry lay on the bed, feeling that something in his heart had collapsed.

Everything was fine at first. He and Dumbledore spent half an hour in reality, watching the former Dumbledore family have dinner and exchange gifts. The atmosphere was generally pleasant and enviable. Then in the next memory, their situation took a sharp turn for the worse. Not only did they move, but the smiles on their faces disappeared. The youngest Ariana was nervous, and Aberforth always clenched his fists when no one was around, with angry flames burning in his eyes; Albus became quieter, but a trace of grief flashed in his eyes when he looked at his sister...

and the most important thing was that the male owner was gone.

"...When Ariana was six years old, she was performing magic in the garden. Three Muggle boys saw this through the hedge. At that time, the ignorant witch-hunting ideas were still spreading in the remote countryside. They were frightened, but they also had the savage courage to attack her. Since then, Ariana has suffered serious psychological trauma and can no longer control her magic. My father was so angry that he went to settle accounts with those Muggles and gave them a severe lesson. Then... he was imprisoned in Azkaban, and we, alas, we chose to leave that sad place. No one could have expected that a greater tragedy was waiting for us..."

The first class ended when young Albus received the Hogwarts admission letter.

Dumbledore did not ask Harry to keep it secret, which seemed to mean that he could tell Ron and Hermione, but he only said some irrelevant things. He believed that he had the responsibility to keep the past of Headmaster Dumbledore secret, as if letting people know his tragic experience was a blasphemy against his great personality.

He didn't know why he thought so, nor did he understand why Dumbledore let him see this. In Harry's opinion, Dumbledore seemed to be using a cruel way to show his experience in front of his students.

He stared at the full moon outside the window and seemed to hear the howling of wolves. Of course, Harry didn't know that far outside Hogsmeade, more than a dozen werewolves were undergoing a collective transformation.