Harry Potter: Glory Bows to Me

The moonlight was faint and the clouds were low.

Behind the tombstone, Amanta could almost hear the sound of her own heartbeat.

Julius covered her mouth with his hand, his strength controlled but firm.

It was not until he realized that she had stopped struggling that his hand slowly relaxed, and his knuckles slid across the side of her lips, carrying the coolness of snow and the usual coldness and calmness of a young man.

He said nothing, but raised his wand and waved it gently.

A faint light flashed by, and their figures became blurred.

The illusion spell was cast with extreme precision.

Amanta took a deep breath and calmed down the emotion that was about to jump out of her throat. She looked back at him. Julius' face was very close to her, his black hair fluttering in the wind, his eyelashes drooping, and his eyes as calm as water.

He nodded slightly, motioning for her to continue watching.

She bit her lip, finally turned her head, and slowly poked her head out from a corner of the tombstone.

As expected, the back door of the church opened.

The heavy wooden door opened silently at some point, and in the darkness, a group of figures slowly walked out.

They were wearing pure white robes, with their hoods pulled down very low, their faces almost hidden in the shadows. Only when they occasionally looked up could one see their solemn, dignified, and even awe-inspiring faces.

If it weren't for that human face, these figures in white robes would almost blend into the snowy scenery of the valley. No one spoke, and their footsteps fell on the snow so lightly that they made almost no sound.

They glided out of the church like ghosts and stopped in the middle of the cemetery.

One person, two people... dozens of people.

Then, the little girl in the red cloak also walked out of the church slowly.

She was still wearing the eye-catching cloak, which stood out against the white.

She slowly walked into the circle of people in white robes, lowered her head and whispered.

Amanta stared at her, the light in her eyes condensing inch by inch.

The little girl raised her head and a clear voice flowed from her lips.

"He is the child of prophecy, born at the end of July."

"There is a man who wants to fight against the master."

"When darkness returns, the gate of blood will open."

"Two people who cannot coexist will eventually perish."

Her voice was soft but extremely clear, as if it carried some kind of magic, echoing in the air along the snow and hitting Amanta's eardrums.

The poem. The poem she had written on a stick in the snow.

The little girl chanted as she walked slowly around in a circle. The people in white robes stood still, like stone statues.

And when she began to chant for the second time, they all lowered their eyes and slowly recited the familiar yet hair-raising verses.

By the third time, everyone started chanting at the same time.

The sound was low and uniform, echoing on the snow like an incantation from some ancient ritual, carrying a power beyond conventional magic.

Amanta tensed up. The air had grown colder, not from the wind or the snow, but from a chill that went deep into her bones.

Her knuckles clenched and her lips turned white.

It seems like a ritual.

She noticed something was wrong almost immediately.

This poem, this ritual…is about prophecy.

According to the prophecy, the person who was born at the end of July was exactly——

Harry, and Neville.

The face of the girl in the red cloak, the words on the snow, and their inexplicable disappearance suddenly appeared in her eyes.

My heart began to beat violently, as if some malicious suspicion was expanding wildly in my chest.

No, it wouldn't be such a coincidence -

She looked sharply at Julius.

The young man's face was calm, but there was still a hint of sarcasm and cold scrutiny in his eyes.

She opened her mouth, her voice so low that it was almost inaudible: "...Harry and Neville, were they -"

"Shhh."

He put a finger to her lips, with a hint of warning in his eyes.

He whispered, "Don't make any noise. Just keep watching."

She gritted her teeth and stared at the group of people in white robes.

There is a storm in my heart.

Who are they?

What is their relationship to Voldemort? Are they Death Eaters? Not really. They are so pious and solemn, almost like some kind of religious sect.

But that poem is part of the prophecy about Voldemort.

Harry and Neville's birth dates were both at the end of July.

The girl in the red cloak slowly stopped in the center of the circle and raised her head. Her eyes were as blue as frost and as bright as the moon shining on snow.

At this moment, Amanta felt a chill on her back. Even the concealment of the Disillusionment Spell could not stop the strange, ancient and terrifying power.

She already wanted to rush out.

But Julius still held her down and did not let go.

His eyes stared quietly at the strange scene, as if he was confirming something... and as if he was waiting for something.

Everyone, including the little girl in the red cape, stopped reciting. The last verse echoed in the air.

"...Two people who cannot coexist will eventually perish."

The air seemed to suddenly freeze.

"This is not the prophecy from more than a decade ago..." Amanta whispered, "This is a new prophecy."

It suddenly dawned on her what was different about this poem—its reference to the “return of darkness.”

It refers to the present day return of Voldemort.

Just as everyone finished chanting this sentence together, a distorted glow suddenly appeared on the ground.

Like a crack.

Amanta opened her eyes wide and looked at the center of the snow surrounded by people in white robes.

A series of strange, vague waves appeared in the air, as if a pair of hands were tearing space itself apart. The originally flat snow collapsed a little, making a crackling sound.

Then, a dark red outline slowly emerged from the distortion.

It seems to grow out of the ground, or like a shadow that quietly seeps in from another world.

Finally, a door stood quietly in the center of the circle.

——Blood-red stone gate.

Amanta's heart skipped a beat.

That was no ordinary stone. She had never seen anything of this texture before. The deep red color had black blood-like veins, as if something alive was flowing through it. The door frame was rough, with no carvings or totems, just four primitive boulders that were rigidly spliced into the shape of a door, with a wild and ancient savage quality.

There seemed to be another space inside the door, but all that could be seen was chaos.

Black and white interweave, and the mist lingers, as if there are countless entwined tentacles and flowing shadows, blurry and swaying.

It seemed to be inviting, yet also seemed to be devouring.

She even forgot to breathe for a moment, her eyes fixed on the chaotic door, and the only sound she could hear was the "thumping" of her own heartbeat.

Just as she tried to lean out to see what was hidden inside——

Suddenly someone held down his shoulders.

Julius.

His hands were steady on her shoulders, pressing her down back against the headstone.

"Don't look at it for too long." He warned in a low voice, his voice showing rare seriousness, "You'll be sucked in."

Amanta felt his breath close to her ear, just like before, it was a faint woody scent, and she couldn't tell if it was the subtle cold fragrance from the fabric, hair, or the ancient silver ring he often wore.

She forced herself to blink and finally looked away.

In the field, the men in white robes were still standing around the door.

Suddenly, a person walked slowly in from outside the circle, and half of a familiar face appeared under the hood.

Amanta's pupils shrank——

She had met this man.

At the Quidditch World Cup, that man had whispered with Minister Fudge in the audience, with the Ministry badge pinned on his suit and an arrogant and indifferent look - a mid- to high-level official she didn't care about at all.

Now, wearing a white robe and with a solemn look, he walked into the circle, looked at the door, and finally spoke.

"According to the prophecy," he said, "there will be two children born at the end of July."

He glanced at the crowd and said slowly, "Harry Potter - Neville Longbottom."

Amanta was shocked.

He was too direct.

"We had already found the answer thirteen years ago," he continued, his voice was not loud, but it hit Amanta's heart like a spell, "but that was only Voldemort's choice, not the judgment of fate itself."

"Eleanora." He tilted his head and looked at the girl in the red cloak in the circle, his tone almost respectful, "Have you confirmed that the Blood Gate has responded to them?"

Eleanora——

For the first time, Amanta learned the girl's name.

She looked in amazement as the little girl in the red cloak slowly turned around.

That was no longer the face of a little girl.

The face was round but full of wrinkles, the features were delicate but by no means young, and the eyes were deep with a certain ancient weariness and wisdom.

She is not a child.

But a short adult——

Maybe a dwarf, or some subspecies of wizard.

She nodded slowly, her voice ethereal but with the weight of time:

"The Blood Gate has responded."

"Their blood was awakened by the key."

"Our proposal to Madam Longbottom has gone as planned. Both Potter and Longbottom have been led into the ritual area."

Amanta held her breath, and her mind quickly recalled Neville's expression when he proposed to come to Godric's Hollow that day, and the letter from his grandmother agreeing to his coming...

She never suspected what was hidden behind all this.

"This doesn't make sense..." she murmured under her breath.

But in the field, another man in white robes spoke in a low and hoarse voice:

"Thirteen years ago, the Dark Lord did strike first at Potter, but he had said that he would kill both candidates. It was just that he failed too soon."

"Therefore," the man looked at the "door" and said slowly, "he has not completed the sieve of fate."

Another person continued: "We cannot accept this incomplete conclusion. The true savior must be judged by the door."

Julius smiled softly and whispered in Amanta's ear:

"You see, they are more cautious than Voldemort."

Amanta did not respond, her eyes fixed on the woman known as Eleanora.

She stood in front of the Blood Gate, suddenly stretched out a hand and slowly raised it.

"The door of prophecy has been opened," she said.

"The darkness has returned."

"So we... must complete the verification as soon as possible."