章 157: 0156 Cradle of the Chosen

"I'm sorry, please forgive me for being rude,"

Bryan said apologetically as he stood at the threshold of the ruined house.

"After all, this is also for your child Harry Potter–"

He lowered his head respectfully as he spoke to the place where Lily and James Potter had once lived. Although he had been unaware of the existence of the wizarding world when they were killed by Voldemort twelve years ago, he still felt a deep admiration for these brave wizards who had sacrificed their lives for their son and their cause.

Bryan used his wand to remove the entire iron door that blocked his entrance and levitated it gently into the yard. The door was completely rusted from years of neglect; not only were the bolts hidden behind it corroded beyond repair, but also the hinges that connected it to the door frame were barely holding together.

The scene behind the door matched what Bryan had expected to find: a house frozen in time, untouched by anyone since that fateful night. The hall, dining room, living room and all the furnishings within his sight were covered with a thick layer of white ash that had settled from the explosion of Voldemort's curse. In the dimly lit room, the air was silent and stale, filled with a rotten smell that betrayed the decay of the wooden structure.

The floor in the house was made of wood, and it had suffered the most from the passage of time. The dust on the surface obscured its original color, but Bryan could see the traces of corrosion and wormholes that had eaten away at the planks. He wondered if the floor could support his weight, or if he would cause the whole house to collapse in a domino effect if he stepped on it.

He decided not to take any chances and waved his wand again, making himself float up in the air and controlling his body to move slowly forward.

But everything he saw was gray and dull, and there was no sign of anything valuable or interesting. Bryan only lingered in the dining room for a while, examining the furniture and objects that had been damaged by the duel that had taken place there.

One side of the duel was James Potter, Harry's father and a talented Auror. The other side was Voldemort, the most evil Dark Lord in history. The outcome of the duel was obvious, but Bryan wanted to know more about how it had unfolded.

The damage caused by the duel was not too extensive. Bryan noticed a few black holes on the wall and a radially cracked floor where spells had hit. He tried to reconstruct the scene of the duel in his mind, based on the evidence before him.

"–A duel that differed by many levels. James Potter probably released two or three spells, but they were blocked by Voldemort's shield and bounced back to the floor and wall. Strange,"

Bryan muttered to himself. "Even if James Potter's skills are similar to Lupin's, in that situation, he should have been hysterical and unleashed more powerful spells that would have caused more damage to the room. But- Oh!, I see, Voldemort must have been very murderous at that time. He unleashed powerful dark magic that destabilized the magic in this area. Ordinary wizards might have been unable to cast even a simple levitation spell under that circumstance."

Bryan knew from his own experience that There were many factors that could determine the outcome of a duel between wizards below the 'Grand Magus' level, such as dueling skills, the power and versatility of the spells they mastered, and even luck could play a key role. But when one's strength got closer to that limit, individual magic became more important, and the effect of spells was diminished. Because for wizards at this level, any offensive spell could be lethal to their opponents. For example, Bryan himself, if he wanted to do so, he could easily make a stunning spell fatal.

So it was absurd to expect to deal with wizards like Albus Dumbledore by relying on numbers and sneak attacks.

"–Purely interfering with the environment with magic and thoughts, making wizards in a certain area unable to use normal standard spells is not impossible, but it is more deterrent than practical."

After briefly speculating on Voldemort's strength in his mind, Bryan's expression became slightly solemn. With his current ability, he would not have a problem to fight a short-term high-intensity duel with Dumbledore or Voldemort. Even because of his physical advantage brought by his age, he might not necessarily be at a disadvantage. But once he couldn't finish the fight quickly and then flee immediately, he would be very passive for him. Because he had not yet reached that 'limit' that separated the ordinary from the extraordinary.

Bryan carefully checked the first floor of the house, but the result made him feel disappointed. Because he didn't find anything wrong or unusual. He scanned the surroundings carefully, looking for any signs of intrusion or tampering. He had expected to find some traces of other wizards who had visited the house over the years, either out of curiosity or reverence. But to his surprise, he found none. From the thick layer of dust and ash that covered everything, he deduced that no one had entered here for more than ten years.

After confirming this point, Bryan turned his attention to the shaky stairs that led to the second floor. He didn't want to risk breaking them with his weight, so he floated up along them like a ghost, using his wand to control his movement. He hoped to find something more interesting upstairs, where the final confrontation between Voldemort and the Potters had taken place.

There were three bedrooms and a bathroom on the second floor of the old house. Two of them had closed doors that looked untouched by time. The door panels were corroded by rust and the paint was peeling off in flakes.

Only one bedroom door was open wide. That was the one that Bryan had spotted from outside before. Half of its wall had been blasted away by a powerful curse that left a gaping hole.

After a brief silence, Bryan moved towards that room. He held his breath unconsciously as he approached those strands of light that shone silvery-white under sunlight exposure . The next second, he moved forward another two feet, and then turned around abruptly.

The moment everything in this room filled with rubble and tiles came into his view, Bryan's slightly tensed shoulders relaxed, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Still left some flaws, right–"

In the ruined room, there was a pile of rubble about five feet high stacked on a collapsed bed. It was the remains of the crib where Harry Potter had slept as a baby, where he had received his famous lightning-shaped scar from Voldemort's curse. The crib had been blown apart by the force of the explosion, along with most of the wall behind it. Because of being exposed to the wind and sun, the rest of the furnishings in the room had also become rotten garbage.

Only at the head of the bed, a broken photo frame that had fallen from the wall still maintained a relatively intact shape. What made Bryan happy was not the photo frame with faded photos of Lily and James Potter smiling happily with their son, but the bunch of dried flowers that had almost lost all their moisture in front of the photo frame, and a string of footprints in front of the photo frame, a string of footprints that continued to the big hole in the room.

All the wizards who came to pay tribute to the Potters over the years had left their flowers on the wooden sign and flower stand specially prepared by the Ministry of Magic outside the house. They had respected the privacy and sanctity of this place, and had not dared to enter without permission. But there was one person who had unexpectedly entered the room and placed a bunch of flowers in front of the Potter's family portrait.

"Hiss, something is wrong–"

Having finally found some clues, Bryan's mood was undoubtedly elated. He stared at the yellowed white lily without getting any closer. A sense of unease suddenly rose in his heart.

"Black," he muttered under his breath. "Isn't he the traitor who caused the death of the Potters? Why would he do this? Could it be that he was regretting his previous betrayal?

Oh, I see.

This is where Voldemort met his downfall. So he was mourning his master."

Bryan's frowning brows stretched out, proud of his own wit. He glanced around the room, his eyes stayed on the pile of rubble on the bed for a few seconds, and confirmed that there were no traps or curses hidden among them. Then he floated into the room and stopped in front of the photo frame.

Because it was exposed to the outside, there was much less dust on the floor in the room than on the first floor. It was only a thin layer that barely covered its original color. When his eyes fell on the broken glass covering the blurred photo, Bryan's brow furrowed again unconsciously. He raised his head again and looked around everything in the room. After a while, he bent down and fiddled with a few pieces of rubble on the bed.

"Very dry, it hasn't rained here recently–"

Bryan stared at the dust in his palm without a trace of moisture, his expression becoming serious.

"Then."

He lowered his head and looked at the dried water droplets on the blocky broken glass covered with a thin layer of dust. They were scattered radially, as if they had been splashed by some liquid. He narrowed his eyes and realized what they were.

"Tears have flowed. This is not right."

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章 158: 0157 Tears?

'Are you crying because of Voldemort's failure?'

Bryan thought sarcastically as he looked at the dried tear marks on the broken glass. He found it hard to believe that Sirius Black, the notorious traitor who had betrayed his best friends to Voldemort, would shed tears for his fallen master. He had heard enough stories about Black and his fellow Death Eaters to know what kind of ruthless and cruel people they were. They had followed Voldemort out of fear, greed, or twisted ideology, not out of genuine loyalty or affection.

Sirius Black–the one who was called the number one henchman of the Dark Lord, who betrayed the Potters for Voldemort's loyalty, and even ruthlessly turned his other friend Peter Pettigrew into ashes without mercy. He had been captured and sent to Azkaban, the most dreadful prison in the wizarding world, where he had been tormented by Dementors for twelve years. He had escaped from there a few months ago, and had been on the run ever since, pursued by Aurors and bounty hunters alike.

Bryan had no doubt that Black was a guy with a heart of iron, and he was absolutely loyal to Voldemort.

But because of this, he didn't believe he would shed tears here, especially after being tortured by Dementors in Azkaban for twelve years. He should be a villain who was only one step away from madness. It's understandable that he would bring a bunch of flowers to his old master, but why would he be sad and cry?

'Does such a guy still have sadness in his heart?'

Bryan stood silently in the room full of ruins, frowning and falling into thought.

'Did I guess wrong?'

He wondered if he had made a mistake in his deduction. Maybe Sirius's goal was Harry from beginning to end. Maybe he never came to this place. Maybe the bunch of flowers and tear marks in front of him were not left by Black, but by someone else.

Judging from the degree of withering of this bunch of flowers, the person who left the footprints had been away for at least a month or so. In such a long time, all the magic traces in the air had naturally dissipated. Otherwise, Bryan would have some means to trace them using his wand and his skills.

The breeze from the wilderness wandered on the crisscrossing streets of the village. The weeds and nettles growing in the yard swayed gently in the wind, making a rustling sound.

A few petals of the withered lily in front of the picture frame also floated up in the air under the influence of this clear wind, spinning in front of Bryan, and then slowly falling down.

Staring at these yellowish withered petals, Bryan's brow moved slightly and had an idea. He decided to follow a hunch and see if he could find out more about the mysterious visitor who had left these flowers here.

Five minutes later, Bryan returned to the church he had passed by before. Behind the church was a cemetery. A row of tombstones with the same style were neatly arranged in the cemetery. Most of the tombstones had a few bunches of fresh or withered flowers in front of them.

This cemetery was probably specially prepared for the wizards who lived in Godric's Hollow. Bryan stood outside the cemetery and glanced at the engraved words on the nearest tombstones. He recognized some of them as belonging to famous or ancient wizarding families. He came to this conclusion based on his knowledge of wizarding history and culture.

If nothing else, the Potters should also be buried here. However, Bryan did not step into the cemetery to look for them. His purpose for coming back here was not to find their tombstones, but to look back at the direction to the left front of the church. There was a flower shop there.

This small flower shop was full of white or yellow flowers that were often used for mourning. It looked old and quaint, blending in with the rest of the village. When Bryan stood at the door of the shop, a fat woman in her fifties who was facing him was gently wiping the petals of a bunch of white roses. She wore a simple dress and an apron, and had a friendly smile on her face.

'This was a witch.'

Bryan recognized her at a glance from her wand that was tucked behind her ear.

"Hello, ma'am, what should I call you–"

Hearing the greeting, the witch who was immersed in her own world came to her senses and realized that she had a customer in her small shop. She looked up and saw Bryan standing at the door, holding a bunch of lilies wrapped in an old newspaper. She smiled warmly and greeted him back.

"Hello, sir, I'm Irie Tramon, the owner of this flower shop. How can I help you?"

Bryan pretended to be a casual visitor and returned her smile. He pointed to a bunch of lilies with a gentle white color in the flower bucket behind the owner. They looked exactly like the ones he had seen in the Potter's house.

"Oh, that one? No problem, sir,"

The fat flower shop owner moved surprisingly quickly. In less than two minutes, she trimmed the lily branches and leaves, wrapped them in an old newspaper, and handed them to Bryan.

"Twenty pounds, sir–"

Bryan raised his eyebrows and made a difficult look.

"Sorry, Mrs. Tramon, I only have Galleons."

Bryan lied as he took out a few gold coins from his pocket. He pretended to be a wizard who had come to the village to pay his respects to the Potters.

"Ah, you're one of us."

The flower shop owner who was just smiling politely suddenly realized that she had a fellow wizard in front of her. She quickly glanced around to make sure that there was no one else nearby, and then lowered her voice and said,

"You're a wizard? Oh, sir, I have to say, your Muggle outfit is very professional. I didn't recognize it at all."

Bryan was wearing a simple shirt and jeans, which he had bought from a Muggle store. When he showed his wand to Mrs. Tramon as a proof of his identity, She was very enthusiastic and talked to Bryan.

"–Oh, yes, that's right. Many wizards buy flowers from me. Are you also here to pay tribute to the Potters?"

Mrs. Tramon asked curiously as she took the Galleons from Bryan and handed him the lilies he had pointed at. She wrapped them in an old newspaper and tied them with a string. She seemed to be very friendly and talkative.

"So it seems."

Bryan nodded and sniffed the fragrance of the flowers. He smiled casually, but he was actually observing Mrs. Tramon's expression and body language. He wanted to see if she knew anything about the person who had bought the same flowers before him.

"Many wizards come here to mourn them?"

He asked innocently, hoping to get some information from her.

"Of course, they are heroes. And their child defeated the Dark Lord and saved us from fear and despair."

Mrs. Tramon said with a hint of respect and gratitude in her voice. She looked at Bryan with enthusiasm, as if she thought he was one of the Potter's admirers.

"Every year, on the day the Potters were killed, their birthdays, little Harry's birthday, and even their wedding anniversary, there are many wizards who come here from all over to mourn them. The last group of people came here during the summer vacation, probably at the end of July. That seemed to be little Harry's birthday. Oh, I heard a rumor that the villain Black escaped from Azkaban just to deal with him, but I think he will be safe and sound, right? Because Dumbledore is still at Hogwarts!"

Mrs. Tramon said with a mixture of worry and confidence. She seemed to trust Dumbledore's ability to protect Harry from any harm.

"Of course, I agree with you."

Bryan nodded with a smile, but he didn't share her optimism. He knew that Dumbledore was not omnipotent, and that Harry was always in great danger from Voldemort and his followers.

He just wanted to quickly find out who had left those flowers and tears in the Potter's house. He decided to ask her more directly.

"Do you remember who bought flowers from you to mourn the Potters before?"

'Strange question.'

Mrs. Tramon thought so in her heart, but she didn't care too much.

Because in these years of running a flower shop here, she had encountered many strange questions from curious or nosy customers. Some foreign wizards even asked her if she had seen how little Harry defeated that terrible wizard whose name could not be mentioned thirteen years ago!

'Are you kidding me? How could she possibly know that?'

She looked at Bryan with a puzzled expression and shook her head.

"I can't answer your question, sir–"

The flower shop owner pointed her mouth at the cemetery behind the church.

"Look, sir, even on ordinary days, there are many people who come here to buy flowers for their loved ones or friends who are buried there. I can't ask every customer's name and identity, right? And I can't remember every face either. I'm sorry, but I can't help you with that."

This answer was not unexpected for Bryan. And even if the bunch of flowers was really sent by Black, Bryan didn't think he would show up with his original face or name. He would have used some kind of disguise or alias to avoid being recognized. The reason why he asked was just to try his luck and hope that the owner would remember some people who looked more strange or suspicious in their behavior.

"In that case–" Bryan also apologized to Mrs. Tramon with a smile. "Please forgive me for being rude."

The flower shop owner who was ready to end the conversation and deal with her own affairs was stunned when she heard this. She stared at Bryan's eyes and didn't have time to ask why this young wizard said this when she suddenly found out that the young wizard's pair of distinctive purple eyes suddenly glowed brightly. Then, as if the sky collapsed and the earth fell apart, a dark and unfathomable darkness appeared from the pupil of his eye. In an instant, Mrs. Tramon lost consciousness and control of her body.

Huh-——

From the moment they met, Bryan read the memory of the flower shop owner. A frozen picture, a fast-forwarded image with a lot of information, like a wave hitting Bryan who stood on nothingness, making him unconsciously squint his eyes.

Two days, a week, two weeks…

With Mrs. Tramon's perspective, Bryan quickly grasped all the people who had appeared near the church recently.

He saw their faces, their clothes, their expressions, their actions. He filtered out the irrelevant ones and focused on the ones who had bought lilies from her. He looked for any clues that would link them to the person he was looking for.

Bryan had an excellent memory, which might be due to his two-life soul overlap. He had lived in two different worlds, two different times, two different identities. He had experienced many things that most people could not imagine. And his innate extraordinary mental power allowed him to remember clearly the faces of everyone who flashed by in his sight under full concentration and compare them with those wizards he already knew. He was looking for any resemblance or connection that would lead him to the person who had left those flowers and tears in the Potter's house.

The further back he traced, the more blurred the faces of those people in Mrs. Tramon's subconscious memory became. By the time he reached twenty days ago, those people were only vaguely outlined. They looked like shadows or sketches, barely recognizable as human beings.

Bryan was not unable to make Mrs. Tramon remember those people's looks again, but if he did so, he might cause irreparable mental damage to this innocent woman. He didn't want to hurt her or violate her privacy more than necessary. Besides, those vague-faced people didn't make Bryan's tense intuition tremble either, so he didn't do that. He continued to search for the one who could catch his attention.

The memory continued forward: twenty-seven days, twenty-eight days, twenty-nine days-

"I need a bunch of lilies."

In the dusk, a wizard with a cold aura all over his body appeared in front of Bryan's eyes with a very low voice that made the whole memory world suddenly freeze!

In nothingness, Bryan opened his mouth silently in astonishment.

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