The ring
Chapter 3
In the yellow old memory of the gray fog, such as pouring clouds see the sun like scattered, revealing a secret corner of the past.
- Inscription
With his bright red hair blown by the warm Irish sea breeze, he traveled from England, Great Britain, to the emerald of Ireland. The blue ocean below him gradually revealed a land covered with greenery. The hem of the robe bobbed, and the white boots, exquisitely-drawn in red and gold silk, stood suddenly on the wave-brushed off-white sand, leaving two tracks that stretched into the dense jungle.
Shuttling among various vegetation, the light gradually brightens from the dark, and the front of the vision reveals a magnificent manor. The man reached through his wide sleeve, put the tips of his five fingers, stripped of his gloves, on the transparent barrier that covered the elegant old gate of the house, and as the invisible magic flowed through the facade, he pushed the door in.
As soon as they entered the Slytherin hall, a cool breeze swept over their faces, and Godric Gryffindor's slightly tired body from running around felt a conscious tension. Around him, the room was in even more austere order, the dark floor unstained by his dusty presence, The gray blackout curtain is often changed, there is a fragrance floating in the cold air.
Inlaid in the middle of the guest hall is a representative of the Slytherin family emblem has always been, the long python in the light of the candle scale glitter, confide in the letter son red enchanting, and the narrow animal pupil eye, cold air attack, can not help but look at the people hit a chill.
One after another, the guest hall was filled with witches and wizards who had come from afar. Their gifts were placed on a long table by the side. Occasionally, the exquisite wrapping paper was scattered, and the light was refracted in all directions.
The witches and wizards saluted each other and whispered briefly, and silence returned to the room.
The candlelight was dripping, and the cool air that seemed to be everywhere was stirring, and the candle was flickering, and the figures were scattered, and the faces of unknown meaning were illuminated.
Out of thin air sounded a slow step, as if outside, as if inside, step by step on the waiting person's heart.
A pair of darkened vertical eyes, like those on Slytherin's serpent emblem, appeared out of the dim and changing light, and strolled up to the front of the crowd, bowing slightly and glancing around. "Thank you all for coming so far. The Slytherins have been waiting for you."
The little minions who stood in various corners came out, wrinkled and wearing more respectable improved pillowcases, and presented each wizard with a series of carved plates in their hands. "The ceremony will begin the day after tomorrow. Please rectify yourselves for the rest of the day. Rooms have been arranged for you." The servants, at arm's length, guided the guests to their lodges.
Gryffindor strutted round the corner through a somewhat gloomy corridor, without any slack in spirit. "Please, Sir," he said. The footman knocked at a door, stood on one side, and held out his hand respectfully. He paused, went in, and the door closed behind him with a little rattle.
The red wheel was in the sky, the sun was shining brightly, the grass was in full bloom, the flowers were in full bloom, the butterflies and the busy bees were here. Godric strolled through the lush grass and looked up to see a boy chasing a butterfly on the opposite hillside. As he passed, the butterfly fluttered its golden-red wings in the boy's closed hand.
"You..." Gryffindor noticed at once the boy's trademark Slytherin vertical eyes, squinted at him slightly in the glare of the sun, frowned, raised his hand against his face as if stabbed, and dropped it to continue his work with the red butterfly. "Murmured the boy, and a thin grey thread appeared in his palm, one end of which was nimbly wrapped around one of the butterfly's wobbly tentacles, the other tied to one of his fingers, freeing her. There was a little smile on his face, and no matter which direction the butterfly flew, he could not escape his control at all times.
He thought for a moment as he watched the fluttering butterflies and said, "You are my father's guest at tomorrow's ceremony." Godric's green eyes flickered, and his eyes skipped from the butterfly struggling in vain to the unusual boy. The boy's body was thin, even under the cloak of a robe, and his grey hair brushed his still young face, but there was something about the eyes that stared at him that could not be ignored, something evil and angry, something a little like the maturity of an adult.
"Why don't you just use magic to catch it?"
'Why? "Said the boy playfully." Well, with magic, it's very handy indeed, but - "He flicked his finger and the butterfly was sent out and pulled back like a marble. "It's always different in person, the experience is incomparable, it feels like -" He curled his fingers together inwardly with a look that seemed to reflect on the pleasure of a butterfly tapping his fingers.
He waited a moment, then, seeing that Gryffindor was silent, resumed his amusement, waving his hand so that the creature fluttered helplessly after him.
After a few moments, Gryffindor said, "Do you think it looks good?"
The boy glanced at him. "Naturally."
"But I don't think so."
The boy slowly stopped his hand and looked at him with an unexplained eyebrow.
"Don't you think it would look better if it flew like them?" The boy followed Gryffindor's finger and saw a flock of colorful butterflies fluttering freely like clouds in a kaleidoscope of flowers.
The boy looked at it with a sneer. "Like this?"
The hand connected to the butterfly made a fist and swung it violently. The grey thread pulled away one of the butterfly's tentacles and fell off in a soft way. The butterfly was fluttering its beautiful wings and was about to fly off into the distance. A pale hand split a handful and pinched the weak life. The sound of squeezing between the fingers swallowed up the last cry of life. He opened his palm to reveal the mess in broad daylight, the better for Gryffindor, who had never seen anything like it and was pale.
"Well? Isn't it very nice? Eh?" He tilted his head as if he had thought of something, and covered his face with a low smile.
"Oh, there's something even better, like a flower exploding, white flowers all over the ground. I still can't forget the smell." The boy laughed for a moment in a mad quiver, and his lowered hand hid the cruelty and pleasure of his face. He looked again at Gryffindor, frowning as though he regretted his loss of control.
He glanced up casually. The sky was clear, the sun was falling, and the golden light was shining on his face. He looked at it for a long time, and he said, "As far as I can remember, the sky over Ireland used to be cloudy.
"I have a question, Sir -"
"Why is it sunny today?"
Gryffindor -
A pair of eyes full of thousands of emotions in the wheel of fate slowly open,
Why?
Why do you always appear in my life?
When I am down, when I am down,
In your light like the sun, I have to raise my hand to hide their unbearable.
Why do you always have to steal all my sight when you show up?
The first time I saw you, the red wheel was behind you in a flash of brilliance,
Your green eyes stand firm, your steps never stop, your flowing red hair flies in the wind,
Like the fiery color of your extreme freedom, like your unyielding soul buried deep and mysterious,
Why would you -
So charming?
The boy's eyes wandered over every inch of Gryffindor's body, the creepiness of being haunted by the poisonous gaze of a cold-blooded snake making him uncomfortable.
The boy unwound the grey thread from his fingers, holding one end with one hand and moving from one end to the other with the other. Malevolent eyes stared intently at him across the thin line and said, in a low voice, slowly:
"Excuse me, Sir, can I use this thread to hold your pace?"
Let you stay for me.
"Ha..."
Inside the ledger, a shadowy figure panting slightly, his long curly red hair hanging down in front of him, his nightgown disheveled between the movements of his rise, his hands wrung together in a contradictory way, closed his eyes and sighed.
"Salazar..."
The light flowing curtain with diamond luster in the breeze swept the ground in a soft rustle, like a lover's lingering murmur. Soft big bed, lying on a naked body enchanting woman, covered with a lost another person warm texture of excellent quilt, focusing on the beauty of eyes resentment staring at the top of the bed is not clear, white hands touch to the side.
Sure enough, it was empty.
She slowly raised herself, dressed, and sat down at the dressing-table. 'Help! Her slightly twisted cheek was reflected in the mirror.
The door is knocked on gently, not carefully even the sound can not be heard. "Come in." Two plain-looking, low-brow, slightly stooped maids came quickly to her side with a tray of things they had prepared, and dressed the woman without expression.
One of the maids took her hand and nervously squeezed a small brush for nail polish. "What color, madam?"
The woman casually touched her long black hair. "Just black."
"All right, you can go." The woman waved and looked over her slender fingers.
The two maids were ordered to take the empty dishes and wind out faster than they had come in.
"Well, not nearly." When they had gone, the woman said faintly, her nails shining dark.
It was not until the door was shut that the two maids breathed a sigh of relief. "We were lucky this time that we didn't get beaten up by that bitch." A maid with short linen hair said with relief as she walked.
"Yes. Do you think she has been struck and gone mad?" Her companion patted her faster rising chest.
When they had both recovered their breath, one of them said, "You see, did the Lord leave our lady alone by keeping an attractive wild fox out there?"
"Of course, what man would fall in love with such a moody woman? A woman like her had better be alone forever." The short-haired maid blurted out without thinking.
'Oh, keep your voice down!
The maid glanced over her shoulder. "Don't worry. It's a long way off."
"Hum! Because of their own wealth and power, they can only beat us or scold us, deserve to be a bitter woman..."
While they were talking, a figure hurried past them and slipped into the room from which they had just emerged. The woman looked up lazily. "Coming?"
"Ah! Ah! Excuse me, madam! Save your life! Little slave I dare not again! ..."
The two maids dropped to their knees with tears streaming down their faces, banged their heads, and spilled blood all over the floor.
"That's enough, the floor is dirty, somebody, get them out of here."
Two burly guards entered, one by one arm, and dragged the two bold maids out.
"Remember -"
The woman said slowly as they passed out of sight:
"Gently pull out both their tongues."
The light words reached the unmistakable ears of the two maids in the cold wind, and their rudder faces turned white.
After seeing them off, the woman looked down at her new fingers, their bright red, seductive glow against her white complexion, and finally smiled with satisfaction.