[HP] End of Death

Harry sat up suddenly on the bed, the fabric on his back already soaked.He rubbed his eyes, and his vision gradually became clear. A dim moonlight fell on the quilt through the window, flowing through creases of different shades like waves.

He pressed the space between his eyebrows, took the glasses from the bedside table and put them on.The lightning-shaped scar on his forehead still hurt, as if someone had pressed a hot iron on it, but it was much better than when he just woke up.

He remembered that he had a very strange dream. In the dream, it was a piece of dead green. There was an abandoned manor with a backyard, a strange old Muggle man with rickets, a giant snake that was twenty feet long, and a An inhuman thing with a high-pitched, high-pitched voice.

He didn't know if what he dreamed was real, but the details of the dream were still vivid in his memory. Harry thought he couldn't have imagined such a strange thing out of thin air, but Voldemort--the terrible dark wizard who killed his parents ——The idea that he can't be around is really ridiculous.

Still, Harry looked out the window. Privet Drive was silent except for the bad wind that blew across the street, and all the houses were pitch black, as if immersed in a thin black curtain.He seemed to see a thin silver light flashing past in the darkness, and he couldn't tell whether it was moonlight, lamplight or the light reflected by the tin can, but it was gone when he looked again.

Harry drew the curtains, feeling that he was really thinking too much.

The scar was still slightly hot, and it was a pain that could not be ignored. Harry got up and took out the parchment and pen while pressing the scar. He decided to write a letter to Sirius about it.

After dipping in the ink, he listened carefully to the sounds around him. Dudley's snoring reassured him at this moment.

"Dear Cold," he wrote, "I'm writing to you at night, because my scar suddenly hurts—"

Well, he thought it was stupid to write that.

"...I don't know what's going on, do you know if the curse scar will suddenly hurt after many years? Or is it related to a nightmare I had before..." Harry opened the letter after writing He took Hedwig out of the owl cage.The white owl flapped its wings and nuzzled in his arms.He rolled the letter and tied it to its foot, and opened the window.

"It's a letter to Cold. You know who it is?" Harry whispered, stroking its sleek feathers.

Hedwig pecked at his finger, spread her wings and flew out of the window.Harry yawned, went back to bed and pulled the covers up, planning to go back to sleep.

And where he didn't see it, a figure shrouded in a black cloak raised his head.A thin wand was passed out of the darkness, and a silent burst of red light struck the white owl.

The high-pitched birdsong sang across the sky in the middle of the night, and then fell into silence.

Harry was pleasantly surprised to receive a reply from Sirius by noon the next day, having thought he would only get an answer at the Burrow.Harry hurriedly opened the letter, and the handwriting on the letter was easier to read than usual, at least the letters were not crowded together:

Dear Harry:

I'm glad to hear from you.I'm far away from the UK now, so I can't come to you to discuss this matter with you face to face. Of course, I think this is not a wise move.

It's a pity that I don't know why your scar suddenly hurts. It may be more appropriate to ask a professional, but I don't think you know any doctor from St. Mungo...

And I just remembered that I used to have a friend who seemed to be engaged in a related career after graduation, so I asked him for you.He said he can help you see, but you need to come to the clinic in person.

Below is the address of his private practice...

Harry found that this address didn't seem to be far from Privet Drive, and it took only ten minutes to walk there, but he was a little puzzled why a wizard would open a clinic in such a place with such a high Muggle coverage... But since it is a small Friends from Sirius should still be trustworthy, right?Harry folded the letter and put it away, intending to sneak out and have a look sometime.

Hedwig in the cage let out a somewhat suppressed cry, and Harry realized that it looked a little tired since returning.Could it be that the long-distance delivery is too tiring?That's right, it must be very exhausting to shuttle between two places overnight.He added some water and bird food to the small bowl in the cage, and stroked Hedwig's head reassuringly.

The next day, Harry managed to find a reason to trick Uncle Vernon, and ran out of the house under Aunt Petunia's suspicious eyes.When standing on the street, he felt relaxed all over his body, as if he had ushered in a long-lost freedom.He breathed a sigh of relief and ran towards his destination.

The "Fickert Clinic" in the letter is located in a damp, inconspicuous muddy alley, and the shadow of the house takes away all the warmth. In the hot summer, this may be regarded as a summer resort.

Harry looked at the door of the clinic, hesitated for a while, and pushed the door open.The wand was in his pocket, ready to be drawn out whenever he wanted - though he knew he couldn't use magic at all, with the Law Restricting the Use of Magic by Minors still in effect.

The interior of the clinic is clean, cool and dimly lit.A wooden table stood by the wall. On the table was a stack of papers, a pen holder full of quills, and a receiver. There was no sign of magic.

Harry walked to the table and sat down, while a tall, thin doctor in a white coat was already sitting across from him.His black hair was neatly combed, and his piercing eyes studied him through round spectacles, which made Harry uncomfortable.

"Oh, nice to meet you, Potter. It's been years since I last greeted you..." Mr. Fickett said slowly.

"Have we met before, sir?" Harry couldn't help asking, he had no recollection.

"I think you probably forgot." Mr. Fickett didn't look surprised. He rested his chin on one hand and fell into deep thought. Together... I met you on the street and shook your hand, and you looked a little overwhelmed."

Following his description, Harry recalled that it was indeed a long time ago—so long that he hadn't entered Hogwarts, didn't know that he was a wizard, and didn't know that he had defeated the strongest The great dark wizard.Strangely dressed people in those days—wizards, he learned later—would say hello to him excitedly and talk things he didn't understand.Whenever this happened, Uncle Vernon would take him away angrily and ask him if he knew them.

And Mr. Fickert seems to be one of them.

"Sorry, my memory is not very good." Harry scratched his hair embarrassingly, his inner vigilance relaxed a little, "Mr. Fickett, I think you should know why I came to you, right?"

"Of course, the cold told me in the letter." Mr. Fickett winked at him, drew a quill from the pen holder, and began to write something on the paper.

Harry was taken aback by the title and his actions, and immediately realized that he should be one of the very few people who believed that Sirius was innocent, which made Harry have a good impression of him immediately.

"Potter, are you saying that your scar suddenly started to hurt, and you had a nightmare before?" Mr. Fickett asked.

"Um, yeah, that's never happened before." Harry nodded.

"What dream did you have?"

"Well...you might not believe it when you say it." Harry hesitated for a moment, and lowered his voice, "It's about people who can't even mention their names."

Mr. Fickett nodded slowly, and at the same time he was writing quickly with the pen in his hand. A strand of black hair fell in front of his eyes, slightly blocking his sight. Mr. Fickett raised his hand to push it away , Harry felt that this action was very eye-catching for no reason.

"I think I need to examine your scars before I can make a conclusion, Potter." Mr. Fickett raised his eyes, and Harry quickly looked away, meeting his gaze as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, of course, sir." Harry said, leaning forward slightly, and Mr. Fickert took out some delicate instruments and approached him, and he felt his slender fingers parting his messy bangs, gently Touching the lightning-shaped scar, then something soft pressed on it, and it went away with a touch-probably a sponge, Harry thought-and then a cold instrument moved slowly against his scar, and the small hole was constantly moving. The red light radiating hit Harry's eyelids, making him feel a little glaring.

Mr. Fickert observed for a long time, during which they did not speak, and the reassuring smell of disinfectant floated in the quiet air, which seemed to calm people's minds down, and they lifted their heavy guards for an unreserved exchange .

Harry was wondering how long he would have to check, when the cold instrument was removed, Mr. Fickert took off his glasses, wiped them gracefully with a light blue cloth, and put them back on again, watching carefully He said, "I'll give you some medicine first, Potter, that will lessen the effect of the scar on you."

Harry nodded, and Mr. Fickett stood up and walked into the pharmacy behind him. He opened the drawer and said, "If you have anything else to do later, you can ask me, Potter. But I may not be here later, I I will give you another way to contact me."

"Okay, sir." Harry didn't worry about it, he believed Hedwig could deliver the letter wherever he was, she was the best owl he had ever seen, "but I'm leaving soon too It's time to go, sir."

"Oh, going on a trip with friends?" Mr. Fickett came out with a medicine packet. He wrote some numbers on the outer packaging and explained to Harry how to take the medicine.

"Hmm...not really." Harry replied absent-mindedly. Watching the World Cup shouldn't count as a trip, right?

"If you are traveling far away, you must protect yourself." The man seemed to say casually, but Harry felt that his eyes were very serious, as if he was solemnly entrusting, "Take care of your wand. When it is dangerous Don't be afraid to use spells, Harry."

"Uh...I understand. Thank you, Mr. Fickett." Harry noticed that he changed his address at the end, but unexpectedly he didn't mind too much. He took the medicine bag and said goodbye to him. left the clinic.

Mr. Fickett watched the boy leave the dark, narrow alley.He took off his glasses and pressed his temples, and smiled wryly.

The author has something to say:

Sudden fraud