[Main HP Comprehensive British-American] Lolita

"Karen!" The pretty red-haired girl ran over, with a thin layer of sweat on her forehead, her lips brightened by the rosy blush on her cheeks.

"What's the matter?" the short-haired girl replied absentmindedly, but her eyes were still fixed on the letter in her hand, and her head was never raised.

The red-haired girl snatched the letter from Karen's hand, "Let me see who sent it?"

She raised the letter with a smile, then saw the last name, her smile dimmed: "...Joshua?"

"Vanessa!" Karen shouted the girl's name in a panic, "Give it back to me!"

"Why are you still in contact with Joshua?" Vanessa asked aggressively, "Didn't you guys fall out?"

"It's not what you think it is," Karen recaptured the letter while she was off guard. "Joshua and I will never fall out."

"Really?" Vanessa's tone was a bit sharp, "Don't forget that it was you who said he was selfish and indifferent."

Karen sighed and motioned Vanessa to come and sit next to her, "Tell me about you, how are you?"

The girl's arrogance died suddenly, and she became dejected. "I'm going to marry Primuel, Karen."

"Gaylord?" Karen clapped her hand. "Don't worry, he's a very gentle man."

"Yeah, a gentle sick child who only knows poetry and art all day," Vanessa scoffed. "He's thankful that his ancestors saved him a lot of money."

"I believe you will be very happy," Karen said softly, "as long as you learn to accept him."

"What if I won't be happy? What if I don't want to love him?" Vanessa stared at Karen's light brown eyes, her tone involuntarily containing a hint of despair, "If what I want is a complete What about something different?"

"I don't know, Vanessa." Karen was confused by her unusual behavior.

"Karen, Karen, Karen..." She whispered the name of the person in front of her repeatedly, and she regained her strength as if she had decided something, and then word by word, as if sworn: "Then I will kill him. . If I can't love him, I'll kill him."

At ten the next morning, Dolores woke up from a hangover. The dormitory was empty. She dressed with difficulty and walked into the common room. Before she could sit down, she heard the screams of several girls, and then someone in the crowd shouted—

"Angela Brown is dead! Someone killed her!"

Thinking she heard it wrong, she stood up with the armrest of the chair, and her eyes were a little darkened because she moved too fast.

After a few seconds, she regained her vision and saw Lily running in, her green eyes filled with tears, she seemed to want to say something, her lips twitched a few times, but in the end she was unable to utter a word.

Dolores helped Lily, who was almost unsteady, to sit down on a chair.

"Is this a prank?" She was a little puzzled. "Who chose Angela to play the corpse? She simply can't stay in one place quietly for a minute!"

"It's true," Lily said in a hoarse voice, "I... I woke up very early today and saw it as soon as I entered the auditorium..." The rest of her words were replaced by her choking, blurred between her lips and teeth.

Both Potter and Black came over, and James took Lily's hand comfortingly.

Dolores had a trance-like unreality that Angela was dead and killed by someone. The campus homicide was the last thing she would associate with Angela, who was supposed to be with things that were warm and banal, like a family, baking, flowers in the garden.

"I'm going to see her." She was calm, almost cold, "I'm going to see her."

"Calm down," Sirius patted her on the back, perhaps noticing her abnormal breathing, "I'll accompany you."

There were already a lot of people around the auditorium, and Sirius struggled to cut through the crowd so that Dolores could get a little closer, her fists clenched, trying with all her strength to stop herself from reaching for the wand in her pocket.

"Please let us in! There are our friends in there!" he yelled, and a gap gradually appeared in the crowd, and before Dolores could approach, she had seen Angela through it.

The girl lay quietly in the center of the auditorium, still wearing the white dress from last night, as if she had just fallen asleep. There was a sharp anger in her heart, her friend was killed, and the murderer placed her body in the most visible place in the whole castle in a humiliating way.

She has witnessed death before, but those are unsolvable fates that have been entangled years ago, and no one can be truly innocent.

But Angela... Angela should be different from Lucy and Joshua, she is stupid and pure, mediocre and beautiful, the most ordinary little girl.

She's not like them who are burdened with love-hate karma, she doesn't deserve to die.

At this time, the crowd was rioting again, and a footstep approached in a messy way. Dolores saw Edwin running over in a panic, and almost kneeled on the ground with a broken heart: "No!!!"

Probably because of this cry, the pain of hindsight replaced shock, anger and doubt, and finally swept in. She began to cry, but she remained silent, staring at Angela who seemed to be asleep, like a silent and stubborn stone statue.

Then a pair of hands covered her eyes from behind.

"do not look."

It was Voldemort's voice. The darkness under his palm made her feel so safe, as if she could withdraw from everything around her. There was no death, no conspiracy, no lies, no love.

"Quiet!" Professor McGonagall's amplified voice came from a distance, her usual meticulous bun was a little messy, "The prefects will take everyone back to the common room of their respective colleges, please don't wander around."

She was followed by Millison Barnold who hurriedly arrived, the minister's kind face lost his smile, "Please rest assured, we will find out everything, but before that, please follow the prefect's command, and make sure you safety."

"Sirius," Dolores whispered to the black-haired boy, "you go back first and tell Lily not to worry, I will definitely find the murderer."

"But..." The boy hesitated, "Are you sure you don't need me to accompany you? It might be dangerous."

"Rest assured, Mr. Black," Voldemort said, "I have everything."

Sirius hesitated for a while, finally nodded, and followed the crowd towards Gryffindor Tower.

"I can't believe you let this happen right under your nose!"

As soon as the door to the principal's room was closed, Dolores shouted at the old principal.

"I'm sorry, Dolores," Dumbledore frowned, "I'll try my best to find out the truth."

She looked at the old man, and the previous guess came to her mind again, but this time, her intuition made the suspicion even more.

"You're not Dumbledore," she said decisively.

Voldemort, who was beside him, was also a little surprised by her words, but he didn't speak, and still stood quietly beside her.

"What makes you make such an inference, child?" Dumbledore didn't panic, he pushed his glasses and stared at her with burning eyes.

"You've been doing well, sir," she said, "but you've missed a small detail."

She raised her hand and raised her thumb, index finger and **** at the same time, making a "three" gesture.

"That's what the Germans do, sir, and Albus Dumbledore never lived in Germany for long."

Dumbledore's demeanor in front of him has changed a little. It is no longer the old man's usual gentle appearance, and begins to become sharper and sharper.

"You are very clever, little girl," he said, "but there is one thing about Albus Dumbledore that no one knows. He never lived in Germany, but when he was eighteen, he Befriended a German."

"—then they became mortal enemies," said another Dumbledore voice from behind them, but this one was visibly weak, "please let me introduce you to this one, Gellert Grindelwald. ."

Dolores turned back, and the old man smiled weakly at her in his favorite purple star robe.

This is the real Albus Dumbledore.

"I don't understand..." she said.

"It's to protect me," Voldemort began. "If I had known what Albus looks like now, things would have been very different."

Yes, Dumbledore, Voldemort, the Ministry of Magic, and some Muggle Holy See forces hiding in the shadows, they are wary of each other, they don't trust each other, Dumbledore and Voldemort are even more, but they are forced to cooperate because of mutual interests .

Dumbledore walked over slowly, Grindelwald stood up and helped him sit down, "I don't think this is the time to quarrel," the German's arrogant tone became more obvious after his identity was exposed.

"I still don't understand," she said, "that you have so many great friends, yet you choose—"

"Choose the most dangerous dark wizard in history, a war criminal," Grindelwald continued. "Do you mean to say that, miss?"

Dumbledore smiled and patted Grindelwald's hand, beckoning him to be quiet, "I know you have doubts about me now, Victoria. I sent Gellert to prison with my own hands, and it was based on my judgment, and now I It's my own judgment to set him free and even entrust him. I trust him. Like you said, I do have a lot of good friends to trust, but none of them are Gellert Grindelwald."

But none of them are Gellert Grindelwald.

Dolores glanced at Voldemort beside him, and finally understood Dumbledore's intentions.

Besides Grindelwald, who has the ability to compete with Voldemort?

She recalled her conversation with Dumbledore, to which the old man had said: "I can understand you, like I saw myself through myself one summer afternoon."

The old past was suddenly blown up by the wind. The young Dumbledore and Grindelwald met in the summer, and Dolores guessed that they were attracted to each other, quarreled, and broke up.

So that explains Dumbledore's unbreakable trust in him.

Who else but Grindelwald knew his soul so well?

"So Horace went for the stolen African snake bark that I complained about?" Voldemort asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I took it," Grindelwald admitted frankly. "Who knew a potions professor didn't even have a stock of the potions."

The author has something to say: I finally wrote it here, and the character Angela appeared from the beginning for the scene of death.

And the "three" gesture here from Quentin's Inglourious Basterds. British people are like us, using index, middle and ring fingers.