Victoria became a wizarding hero overnight.

This is the last big gift Voldemort gave her. Obviously, he had already guessed that she would come forward to find out the murderer, so he prepared the draft in advance, and after the truth was settled, he revised the details and sent it to the prophet overnight. daily.

So before the official announcement from the Ministry of Magic came out, almost every household in the British wizarding world had read the story of Gryffindor students confronting Muggle Holy See spies. Then, with the resumption of Hogwarts communications, the students wrote the story in thick letters and sent it back.

So the current scene is created-

A steady stream of owls flew somewhere on the Gryffindor table.

Half are letters from readers of the Daily Prophet, both impassioned and tears, and the other half are letters of thanks from the parents of the students.

Victoria was so disturbed that she had to hide in the corner of the castle to find peace, and she stopped showing up in the hall every day.

"Hi." She turned to see Snape standing behind her, two butterbeers in hand.

"I knew you were here," the boy said, his lips pressed together, his attitude toward her the same as before. "Butterbeer?"

Victoria took it, "Thanks."

Snape took advantage of the situation and sat beside her. In front of them was the orange and purple sunset, and it was a little cold on the observatory. She cast a warmth spell on each of them.

"You found me here last time," Snape said. "It's me this time."

He was talking about the long time ago when Lupin turned into a werewolf and almost bit him, and they had chatted at the observatory, and then got back together.

Confused then, she asked the boy, "Why do you know what you want, Severus?"

The boy replied, "What defines you, what makes you, what makes you, that's where you should go."

Now she had her own answer, albeit in a tragic way she had never imagined.

"I went to see Edwin the other day," she said, taking a sip of her butterbeer.

Snape listened quietly, without interrupting.

"I think his love for Angela is real," she said. "He saw the precious part of Angela before me."

"It's not too late for us to understand now."

"Angela's parents are coming tomorrow," she whispered. "They want to see me."

"Don't think too much, it's too late for them to thank you."

"I know..." she said. "I know...but I just can't get rid of the thought. If only I had paid more attention to her? What if I had found out sooner?"

- Then she doesn't have to die?

This sentence was hidden in silence and was not spoken, but it was obvious that Snape had understood.

"It's not fair to you, you have no obligation to save anyone."

"My uncle, Howard," Victoria said slowly, as if recalling something, "you should know he's American, he taught me something different, he always said that with great power comes great responsibility. I'm ashamed of all my indifference, Severus."

The boy sneered, "You can't let the fate of others trap you, it's very stupid. The most important thing to you should and must be your own fate. There is no responsibility from heaven, you just need to learn to enjoy strength."

Victoria understood why he had chosen Voldemort, how similar they were.

She stopped talking, took a sip of butterbeer, and suddenly laughed.

Snape looked at her suspiciously.

She remembered that on a full moon night, the boy once mocked her cowardly and mocked her for not even daring to use her true identity.

So she raised the bottle and touched his with a crisp sound, "I did it, Severus, I said my real name."

The Browns arrived at Hogwarts the following afternoon.

Mrs. Brown's eyes were red and swollen, and she was dressed and behaved very well, and Victoria guessed that she probably didn't want to see Angela looking very bad.

They stood beside Angela's coffin, and Mrs. Brown glanced inside, sobbed again, but quickly wiped away the tears again.

Mr. Brown saw Victoria standing not far away, and waved to her, indicating that she could come in a little.

"You must be Dolores," he said. "Angela mentioned you many times."

They obviously hadn't read the heroic story of Victoria Stark in the Daily Prophet, and their grief had worn them out of anything else, so they called her 'Dolores'.

She didn't correct them, "Yes, sir. I'm sorry—"

"Oh, young lady," Mr. Brown waved his hand with a wry smile, "we've heard enough of this these days, you don't need to be so polite. Angela likes you very much, and she certainly doesn't want to hear it. talk."

Victoria was at a loss for words, and a sincere eulogy was the only word she had ever prepared, but now it was interrupted.

"You don't have to be restrained, Miss Dolores," Mrs. Brown said in a deep nasal voice. "Professor McGonagall said you helped them find out, and we all thank you very much."

"It's nothing..." she murmured.

"No," Mrs. Brown shook her head firmly. "That's remarkable. You're Angela's hero, both when she was alive and when she died."

Victoria suddenly remembered that last Christmas, Angela didn't go home in order to accompany her. The Browns sent her Christmas presents and invited her to the Browns' house for the next Christmas.

She couldn't remember what their gifts were. At the time, she thought they were just worthless gadgets, and they quietly threw them into the trash can along with the Christmas cards the next day.

And now Mrs. Brown's words made her feel even more invisible, she never tried to save Angela, that girl was her hero.

Victoria was writing to Howard on her first night at Hogwarts, leaning against the gold and red Gryffindor cushion next to her new roommate Angela, talking endlessly about what she knew about Hogwarts. Gwarts Little Secret, she listened absently, the autumn forest outside the window.

She wrote, "Dear Howard, have you ever had a moment like this? It's like the most wonderful things in the world are laid out before your eyes, and you can clearly see the trajectories of the stars, the changing lights and shadows Wind—you know that from now on you will be reborn, you will have everything."

This paragraph of her prayer for herself seems to have come true, but it seems that it has not.

She turned to the Browns and, for the first time, took seriously their faces, the red blood in their eyes, and the sad corners of their mouths.

"I have a way to save Angela," she heard herself say, "but you have to make sure no fourth person ever knows."

The author has something to say: \'Withgreatpowercomesgreatresponsibility.\"From Spiderman.