Is it Ciri?

She is the only one who can travel through the world and time, but why is she called the Lady of the Lake?

"I see." Harry nodded thoughtfully, "Have Knight Gawain and the other Knights of the Round Table seen the man called White Wolf? What is his name? Do you know?"

Godric shook his head: "No one has ever seen a white wolf."

“His name is unknown, but the name of the Lady of the Lake has survived.”

Harry waited patiently as Godric carefully uttered a name: "Ms. Ciri."

These two words made his heart sink.

It was indeed her.

Why did Ciri go back more than a thousand years ago, to an era even older than Hogwarts, instead of coming to her own time?

Godric was still introducing the school. He was as talkative as the Sorting Hat: "In the few legends, this Lady Ciri was a witch who mastered strange magic and was also an excellent swordsman."

"But many people believe that Ciri is not the real name of this mysterious lady. Can you guess why?"

Harry shook his head: "No guess."

"Don't you want to know?" Godric choked and coughed a few times.

Harry nodded: "Please start the formal trial."

"Let me finish." Godric said helplessly, "I haven't told anyone this in years."

Harry said nothing, just waved his hand.

Godric continued, "In legends, there is another world besides ours. It is called the Land of Youth, and it has another name."

"Sid."

"That's quite a difference. Even the spelling is different." Harry thought about it and shook his head.

Godric nodded helplessly. "But that's how the legend goes. It's inevitable that there will be some deviations. Five hundred years ago, I heard from that little wizard that there was a rumor in the castle that Slytherin and Gryffindor were mortal enemies."

"We are friends, just in concept..."

Harry interrupted him: "I think you're going to become mortal enemies."

Godric was stunned.

"Remember what I said just now, when we were in second grade, the basilisk was wreaking havoc in the castle?" Harry asked.

Godric nodded, "You have an exciting life now."

"That's what Slytherins do," Harry whispered.

Godric had a confused look on his face, "What is Slytherin? Salazar or the little wizard from Slytherin?"

"Both," Harry answered him.

Godric was even more confused.

What do you mean by both?

The Sorting Hat sighed politely, "The basilisk was secretly left in the castle by Salazar. He created a trial similar to yours, except...his heir will release the basilisk and kill all Muggle wizards."

"How dare he, how could he!" Godric exclaimed in surprise.

Harry clapped his hands and shrugged.

See, just say it yourself.

The Sorting Hat poked Harry with the tip of its hood.

Godric took a while to recover and said, "Are there any students..."

"One died of it fifty years ago," Harry answered briefly. "Last year no students died, but only one professor, that Lockhart I was talking about."

"Really?" Godric answered softly, his tone calm, and it was unknown what he was thinking.

Harry changed the subject: "Let me officially start the trial."

"Of course." Godric moved the image.

Halfway through, he suddenly stopped and said, "Oh, there's one more thing I forgot to say."

Harry wondered.

"Although no one has ever seen Mr. White Wolf in person," Godric said softly, "Ms. Ciri mentioned that she buried the White Wolf and his wife together in Avalon, the legendary utopia far away from the world."

White wolf?

Buried in?

These two words combined irritated Harry's nerves, causing his eyelids to tremble and twitch violently several times.

"Avalon," Harry repeated the name.

Godric nodded and completely moved his portrait away, revealing a layer deeper inside, which was also a portrait, a simple landscape painting, a country road in a dense forest, with scattered footsteps, horse hoof prints, and some traces left by wild animals.

"Go ahead, go in through the portrait." Godric said gently, "It contains a memory of mine. I asked Rowena and Helga to help and add some interesting things."

"As long as you solve the trouble inside and find the Sword of Gryffindor again, you can inherit all my inheritance."

Harry nodded and walked forward, but suddenly stopped. "By the way, was this garden built by you?"

"Tell me, are you trying to meet a witch?" the Sorting Hat shouted, confidently and loudly, "I don't even know this garden!"

"I didn't build it." Godric shook his head. "In fact, it appeared in the Forbidden Forest a long time ago."

"I wonder who would build such a garden in such a dangerous forest." Harry said expressionlessly, "Maybe she thought that when explorers overcome numerous dangers and obstacles and finally come to the depths of the forest and see such a garden, they would naively think that this is a reward from God for the brave..."

Godric's eyes widened.

Harry continued, "I was overjoyed and didn't think there was any danger in this garden, so I rushed in rashly and took a rest under the pavilion."

Godric tilted his head to the side guiltily.

"My dear Mr. Gryffindor wouldn't do that." Harry asked this passionate question expressionlessly.

Godric did not answer.

The Sorting Hat yelled: "No, Harry, he's a Gryffindor!"

"Why would you use 'she'? What if it was built by a gentleman?" Godric interrupted and changed the subject, pretending to be very serious and asking.

Harry asked him back: "If there is a beautiful flower, between you and Ms. Ravenclaw, who would wear it on their head?"

"Of course it's me." Godric said confidently, "Isn't it natural that a handsome man should be paired with the best flowers?"

"And Rowena doesn't like those 'useless' decorations. The jewelry she wears are all magical items she made herself."

Harry opened his mouth.

The Sorting Hat poked him and said with pity: "That was more than a thousand years ago, and Gryffindors loved to wear tights."

Harry tutted.

Godric looked at them strangely, they were dressed appropriately, what was the problem?

"Mr. Gryffindor, in our time, flowers generally go with women." Harry deadpanned.

Godric looked at Harry and nodded, "No wonder you don't have any jewelry on you. I thought you didn't like it. You're a very simple person like Helga."

"I really don't like it either." Harry nodded, confirming his guess.

"You seem to care a lot about this garden." Godric poked his head into the portrait.

Harry nodded bluntly.

"There are actually a few things left in this garden." Godric smiled mysteriously, "I put them all in my relics. If you want to get them, you have to pass my test, this last level."

"Since you've been chatting with me for so long, I'll secretly remind you."

"There may be something that interests you during the trial."

Relics in the garden...

Harry thought that Ciri had the ability to predict the future, so maybe she had foreseen something.

Leave the thing here and let Gryffindor give it to me?

I really hope so.

And there will be things that interest you during the trial?

Relics of the garden? Ciri?

But how could Gryffindor get access to those things?

The doubts in my heart grew bigger and bigger.

He took a deep breath, walked to the portrait, raised his palm, immersed it in the portrait, and slowly walked in.

The magic power penetrated his body like mist.

The light in front of him dimmed and he stepped into a dark tunnel.

Harry waved his wand.

A faint fluorescent light emerged, illuminating the road ahead - it didn't feel like a cave, but more like a long corridor, but without walls on both sides. It was quiet and depressing.

"Would you like me to sing a song?" After only a few steps, the Sorting Hat couldn't stand it anymore.

Harry hadn't finished yet, so he took the next step.

Suddenly a strong light pierced.

Harry raised his hand and put on the Quin Shield for himself, then waved his wand again. A piece of parchment flew out of the Sorting Hat and turned into several owls, which struggled to pull him away.

After a while, the vision returned.

He found himself on the country road in the portrait, with no danger around. He landed slowly, lightly tapped his wand, turned his school robe into a scabbard, and at the same time put the snake bone sword on his back, then moved it towards his face, and a beard sprouted.

Except for his short stature, only sixty-five inches, he could get by with being short.

Children, students, and inexperienced travelers are the ones who are most likely to be in danger.

Harry looked down.

The newest horse hoof prints and footprints all led forward, so he followed them and soon walked out of the dense forest.

In the distance, there is a village.

There were a few shabby thatched houses, children playing and fighting on the path, and a huge windmill not far from the village, slowly turning with the wind.

In a trance.

He seemed to be back in Velen.

But it's just similar, this should be the Great Britain of Gryffindor's time.

Harry walked into the village.

It immediately attracted the attention of the men in the village. They stared at Harry warily. This strange guy wearing armor and carrying a long sword had the word "danger" written all over him.

Harry walked to the end of the village and then wandered back.

The men in the village finally couldn't sit still anymore. They raised their pitchforks and pointed them at Harry: "What do you want to do, stranger? Walking around in our village?"

Harry looked at him, "I'm a knight, looking for a place to drink and rest."

"Knight?" The men still didn't put down their pitchforks: "But where's your horse?"

"In the nearby woods, I was attacked by a wild beast." Harry paid attention to their eyes and caught the panic that flashed across their faces. He paused for a moment and continued, "I didn't kill the beast. It ran away very quickly."

The men's faces became more frightened.