Days at Hogwarts

Chapter 733 Nourishment for Wild Grass

The road sign, shaped like an arrow, has faded paint, and the remaining lettering is barely legible, pointing in two different directions:

"Big Hangleton, 5 miles ahead"

"Little Hangleton, one mile ahead."

Harry glanced back at the road sign, which was shrinking in size, then looked around at the hedges, feeling a little dazed. He had seen these scenes before, in the Pensieve, in Bob Ogden's memories from his youth, about fifty years ago.

Continue along the path leading to Little Hangton, turn right just before entering the village, and slip into an inconspicuous fork in the road. Before you lies a narrower, steeper dirt road, overgrown with weeds and bushes, riddled with rocks and potholes, where any traces of the past have vanished.

The path underfoot was rugged and difficult to walk on, but fortunately it wasn't raining, so there wouldn't be any stubborn mud sticking to the soles of my shoes. As I followed the dirt path into the woods, my vision suddenly darkened. The dense, lush branches blocked out the sky, and the ground was covered with tangled tree roots, twisted and knotted like pythons.

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

I can't quite remember the way, otherwise I could just use my phantom form to take them there, instead of having to go through this difficult journey.

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

Oh, he's not familiar with the way either, that's alright then.

As a wizarding residence that conceals their identities, the Gaunt family home is ideally located. It is adjacent to the Muggle village of Little Hangleton, from which they can obtain necessary supplies. It is also far from populated areas, with a complex and chaotic terrain. If trouble comes their way, even if the entire Ministry of Magic's Aurors are mobilized, the wizards of the Gaunt family can easily blend into the woods and rely on their familiarity with the terrain and Parsleyan speech to deal with the situation.

Unfortunately, the direct descendants of the ancient and powerful wizarding family, Slytherin, were actually destroyed from within.

The pride and arrogance of the pure-blood family led to long-term inbreeding. By the time of Marvolo Gaunt, the family's personality had become twisted to the point of madness. He instilled distorted ideas in his son Morfin and oppressed and abused his daughter Merope. Marvolo could never have foreseen the fate of the Gaunt family. His daughter, whose personality was twisted later in life, gave birth to a monster with a twisted personality but extraordinary talent, who buried the last bloodline of the Gaunt family with her own hands.

The whole process perfectly illustrated the saying that madness is the harbinger of destruction.

Stepping over an old tree whose age was indiscernible, the air suddenly became somewhat eerie. The surroundings were silent and cold, without the sound of any birds, but a slight rustling sound came from the weeds and treetops.

"Hiss..."

Suddenly turning my head to look at the source of the sound, I could see snakes of all shapes and sizes, completely unafraid of people, flicking their tongues and staring at them.

Continuing onward, a dilapidated and strange old house came into view.

The house was surrounded by dense nettles, and the cold, damp air caused moss to spread along the walls. Wild grasses peeked out from the cracks in the stone walls, and parasitic vines grew rampantly. Half of the door had collapsed, and the remaining half was slightly open, with strange snake-shaped metal ornaments on it.

"..."

Ron swallowed hard, his face full of resistance.

The two ladies were in relatively stable mental condition, but they were a little uneasy and had goosebumps on their arms.

"The Gaunt House, a place Felix Felicis felt we should come and see."

Loren said softly, stepping over the remains of a poisonous snake and fallen leaves as he entered the house.

Several houses had collapsed. Some were old and dilapidated and could not be supported, while others were destroyed by Loren last time. The old headmaster who led the way had no sense of public morality. He took people's things and did not think about repairing them before leaving.

Snake skeletons with rotting flesh hung everywhere; the old stove was riddled with cracks; the shelves along the walls were broken; and filthy pots and pans were scattered all over the floor. The ruins were a scene of utter devastation; it was impossible to tell which room was the kitchen, which was the bedroom, and which was the living room…

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

I already searched the place when I came last time. Apart from the Soul Weapon Ring that I took, everything here is just ordinary stuff. Occasionally, some items still retain a trace of magic, but they are basically not worth studying, such as the lock on the main gate.

"I have no idea……"

Harry touched his forehead, but this time the scar didn't react. He closed his eyes and quietly felt the guidance of Felix Felicis. After a moment, he opened his eyes, went to the wall, bent down, and squatted down. He shoved aside the odds and ends and picked up a worn-out jar.

"Is there anything special about this thing?" Ron asked curiously as he leaned closer.

Harry looked at the shape of the jar and vaguely felt that it looked familiar. Recalling the scene he saw in the Pensieve, he explained somewhat absentmindedly, "Nothing special, just an ordinary jar. Merop Gaunt accidentally broke it once and got a good scolding from Marvolo Gaunt."

"Voldemort's mother..."

Ron exclaimed in amazement.

Loren looked around and said to him, "Everything here belongs to the Gaunt family. Not only was it used by Voldemort's mother, but also by Voldemort's uncle and grandfather. If you're interested, you can collect a few items; you might be able to sell them for a high price."

"..."

Ron paused for a moment, then glanced at him sideways: "My family has plenty of this kind of pottery, some of which have been passed down from our ancestors. Maybe one of them was used by a legendary wizard. If it could be sold for money, we would have sold it long ago."

"They are certainly not as famous as Voldemort."

"Even if someone is famous, they're still trash!"

Surprisingly, they didn't fall for it.

The others couldn't help but smile.

Harry wasn't sure what the jar was for. Felix Felicis wasn't the Magic Mirror, after all, and couldn't answer all questions. He just found it based on his intuition, stored it in his storage scale, and waited for the right time to put it to use.

When the group left, they didn't take the same detour again. Instead, they collectively appeared in phantom form, and their next destination was not far away, on the hill behind Little Hangleton.

Unidentified weeds grow in the desolate cemetery, and not far away is an abandoned church with stone sculptures scattered everywhere, stuck in the soil. An unusually thick yew tree of unknown age stands there alone, like a tall tombstone.

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

Not far away is the site of the resurrection ceremony, where there are still black marks of firewood on the ground, and the surrounding grass is exceptionally lush.

"Voldemort was resurrected here." Harry crouched down, picked up a twig, and poked at the grass. "The pain from the scar is very mild this time. My gut tells me I know what I'm looking for is under these roots."

"These weeds are growing much more lushly than elsewhere. Are they nourished by the potion from the resurrection ritual?" Hermione turned to look at Loren and asked, puzzled.

"It is nourished by flesh and blood, Mr. Crouch's flesh and blood."

Loren paused for a moment, then lowered his voice, "After Voldemort broke free of the body he was parasitizing, Crouch died, and his remains fell right here. The Ministry of Magic staff didn't collect his remains until the next day, and some of his flesh and blood remained here."

As soon as he finished speaking, Harry turned over the shallow layer of soil, and a faint, pungent smell of rotting limbs wafted out.

Looking down, the soil near the grass roots appeared somewhat dark.