Where would this Nagini man be waiting for them?
Hermione had always had this question in her heart.
She didn't know what kind of deal Jon had made with that person, and she didn't know how that person would appear here.
She even had some doubts about that person's motives — were the people around Voldemort really reliable?
But she immediately dispelled this thought. After all, Snape was also one of Voldemort's people, but Snape was also reliable.
Since Jon didn't suspect that person, she naturally had no reason to suspect that person either.
She walked aimlessly in the cemetery, searching for traces of Harry's family, but she couldn't find them. But soon she found something else. In front of her stood a broken stone tablet covered in moss. She crouched in front of the tablet and tried hard to see the pattern on it. This effort was of course useful, because she soon saw the mark on it clearly.
"Harry, come back for a moment."
She called out softly in the air. Harry looked very reluctant, but in the end he walked over.
"What is it?"
"Come and look at this. Look at the pattern on it."
"What?"
In Harry's eyes, this was a tombstone, but this tombstone was very old. The surface had been weathered, and the name on it was not very clear.
But Hermione wasn't pointing at this tombstone, but at the symbol engraved on it.
"This is the symbol in the book, Harry. Look carefully, this is definitely the symbol in the book."
Hermione said excitedly, because Jon had once told her this story. When Jon had given her a private lesson, he had mentioned Harry's family. It was a very old family, and this family was famous for the Deathly Hallows, but not many people knew about it now. Hermione was a girl who knew a lot of secrets, at least compared to Harry.
She knew the secrets, so she had been trying hard to play her role, trying to lead Harry into these situations.
Although Jon had high hopes for her, she didn't feel that she was the most important one, just like how she couldn't directly replace Harry to fight Voldemort.
This world had its own rules of operation. Rather than calling it fate, it was better to call it the arrangement of the rules. She was not part of the arrangement.
She was a spy sent by Jon, a spy. To put it nicely, she was helping Harry and the others and protecting their safety. But to put it bluntly, she was just an actress who was acting according to Jon's arrangement.
On the other hand, Harry and the others were kept in the dark. They didn't know what was going on, and they simply thought that all this was happening in reality.
Deceiving one's friends would make one feel guilty.
However, under Jon's constant hints, this feeling of guilt had become very light.
Everyone had the same ultimate goal, which was to fight against Voldemort, right?
As long as this goal could be achieved, she believed that none of this would cause any problems. Besides, she wasn't the only one deceiving Harry and the others. Mr. Weasley and Sirius, weren't they also part of this plan?
"Hmm …"
Harry lifted his head from the tombstone and said softly, "I think it's possible, but I can't see the name clearly."
Hermione flashed her wand thoughtfully. "Ig-Ignotus, I guess …"
But Harry didn't give her a chance to continue.
"I-I'll go on and find my parents, okay?"
His voice was a little shrill, and he walked away, leaving Hermione crouched beside the ancient tombstone.
Every now and then, Harry recognized a surname he had seen in Hogwarts, like Abbot.
Sometimes several generations of the same Wizard family were listed on this tombstone.
Harry could tell from the dates that some of these families had died out, and some of their descendants had left Godric's Hollow.
He walked farther and farther into the graveyard, and every time he approached a tombstone, he felt a thrill of both fear and anticipation.
The darkness and silence seemed to have suddenly deepened.
Harry looked around worriedly, thought of the Dementors, and realized that the hymn was over, that the noise of voices was fading away, and that the worshippers were dispersing into the square.
Someone in the church had just turned off the lights.
Hermione's voice came from the darkness for the third time, sharp and clear, a few feet away.
"Harry, here … this way."
Harry could tell by the tone of her voice that this time it was his parents'.
He walked towards her, feeling something heavy in his chest, as he had felt after Dumbledore's death, a real crushing grief.
The tombstones were only two rows away from the Candela and Arianna tombstones, white marble like Dumbledore's, and easier to read because they seemed to glow in the dark.
Harry didn't have to kneel down, or even walk close, to see the inscription on it.
Jaime Potter.
Lily Potter.
The last enemy to be destroyed is Death.
Harry read the words slowly, as if he had only one chance to understand them.
He read the last line aloud.
"The last enemy to be destroyed is Death …"
A terrible thought suddenly came to him, accompanied by a wave of panic. "Isn't that what the Death Eaters think? How can it be here? "
"It doesn't mean the Death Eaters' way of defeating Death, Harry," Hermione said softly. "It means … you know … life beyond death, life beyond death."
But they don't have life, Harry thought: they are gone.
The empty words couldn't hide the reality. His parents' rotting bodies lay under the snow and stones, cold and unconscious.
Tears came out suddenly, hot and frozen on his face in an instant. What was the point of wiping and hiding them?
He let the tears flow freely, closed his lips, and looked down at the thick snow that covered the bodies of Lily and Jaime. Now there must be only bones and mud left, not knowing or caring that the son they left behind in the world was standing so close.
His heart was still beating strongly, bought by their sacrifice, but he almost wished that he was buried under the snow with them.
Hermione took his hand again and held it tightly.
He couldn't look at her, but he squeezed it back, taking deep breaths of the cool night air and trying to calm himself down.
He should have brought them something, but he hadn't thought of it when he came. The plants in the cemetery were bare and frozen.
Hermione raised her wand and drew a circle in the air. A Christmas rosette bloomed in front of them.
Harry caught it and placed it on his parents' grave.
As soon as he stood up, he wanted to go. He couldn't stand to stay any longer.
He put his arm on Hermione's shoulder, and she put her arm around his waist. They turned in silence and walked through the snow, past the graves of Dumbledore's mother and sister, towards the dark church and the narrow door out of sight.
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