Can You Come With Me to See... Death?

After his aunt's family left, Harry was the only one left wandering around the house, like a lonely ghost.

He walked around to every place, and when he had nothing else to do, he cleaned the house, as if he had just gone on a long trip.

Harry then thoroughly organized all his belongings.

It was packed in several large boxes, containing all sorts of random things:

Second-grade homework; old Hogwarts textbooks; Auto-Answer Quill;

A treasured collection of "lightly flavored" erotic comics, featuring a Troll loli as the female lead and Giant as the male lead.

There were also various Christmas gifts, including a piece of chocolate that had been sitting for five years and had grown red mold.

Harry was still at the bottom of the box when he pulled out a worn badge with the words "Weasley is my king" and "Weasley shit" flashing alternately on it.

This is the badge Malfoy sold when Ron became Champion in the Triwizard Tournament that year.

It took Harry a long time to empty the box, throwing away the useless items and keeping the sentimental ones.

Finally, he slumped onto the sofa and picked up today's newspaper.

This is something Harry does every day:

Check the Daily Prophet's death list to see if you recognize anyone.

He saw the names of many members of the Order of the Phoenix, and even discovered former Hogwarts graduates... from every house.

And once a name appears here, it means... death.

The death toll today is quite low.

Perhaps it's because a battle had just ended.

Harry was quite satisfied.

When he put down the newspaper, he looked up at the clock and realized it was time for the appointment.

But Mad-Eye was late and hadn't arrived yet.

Harry waited another five minutes, but no one showed up.

He wasn't in a hurry. As agreed, if Mad-Eye was late, he would simply use the Portkey to leave to prevent any accidents.

Harry took all his luggage, then walked to the table and placed his hand on the Portkey.

He suddenly felt a tug behind his navel, his legs lifted off the ground, and all he could hear was a whooshing sound.

Harry had used the Portkey once before.

That was during the Quidditch World Cup, when I went to the Quidditch stadium with the Weasley family.

Therefore, he was not flustered.

But landing safely is a technical task.

Lacking experience, his feet hit the ground, his legs buckled, and he fell to the ground.

The luggage was scattered.

Harry quickly tidied up before looking up and surveying the room.

The small room was filled with books and oil paintings.

Is it a room in Black's old house?

Harry guessed, then took a few deep breaths, slightly raised his chin, and adjusted his hair.

He could already imagine that if he went out now, he would probably run into Mrs. Weasley, who was cooking.

And his friend Ron, who might also be holding a newspaper, anxiously waiting for him while searching the death list for any acquaintances.

And Ginny, probably playing with Anne... Finally, no annoying Dean to be a third wheel.

Absolutely perfect.

Harry walked toward the door, looking straight ahead with a warm smile, and then pulled the handle.

But in the blink of an eye, his smile vanished, and he froze in place.

Something is very, very wrong.

Harry stood frozen in the doorway, staring blankly at the scene before him.

He was quite certain that the Black family home did not have a room filled with various Bible and Quran, or even a wooden fish drum.

A strange sandalwood scent lingered in the air.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the corner.

"Oh, silly Harry Potter," said the light, airy voice.

Four years have passed... How are you?

I still cherish the wonderful night we first met... You helped me get the body I'd always dreamed of.

You also took away my most precious thing—my soul.

Harry stared intently at the corner.

Sitting there was a handsome young boy named Tom Riddle.

Tom closed the Quran in his hand, whistled, and laughed:

"Harry, welcome. I am now extending a formal invitation to you..."

He bowed gracefully, extended his hand, and a smile played on his lips.

"Will you come with me to see... Death?"

Harry: "..."

Ministry of Magic,

After a lengthy meeting, the officials all left.

William also managed to steal a moment of free time to continue studying the Book of Alchemy.

Once you unlock the contents of Book Two, you can craft the Deathly Hallows.

The book records only the Deathly Hallows that have appeared to date.

Good heavens, I had no idea what I was getting into... The number of Deathly Hallows scattered throughout the world was far more than the nine he knew of!

There are more than ninety items.

It seems that over the millennia, countless wizards have sought the Death Reaper.

And Death, too, can be considered the greatest spendthrift in the Wizarding World.

In a word, they are arrogant and domineering.

I don't know why he would risk his life to send away the Deathly Hallows like that.

But judging from Grindelwald's attitude towards him, this kid is probably plotting something.

Therefore, William has given up the idea of seeking out Death and is preparing to make the Hallows himself.

Of course, even if one knew the method of making them, these Deathly Hallows were not something a wizard could create.

It's not that the production method is too difficult... It is indeed tedious, but some refining methods are not as difficult as refining Philosopher's Stone.

So why can't wizards create it?

It's because of the raw materials!

For example, the Elder Wand, to be very clear, requires "Death's Elder Wood".

Where can an ordinary person get their hands on Elderflower, the Death's Elder Wood?

Therefore, no matter how hard Gregorovitch tries his whole life, he will never be able to create a real Elder Wand.

Some of the Deathly Hallows also require so-called "River Styx," "Death's toe bone," "Elder Wood's pollen," and "sand of the underworld"...

I've never even heard of many of these things; trying to make them is just wishful thinking.

But... isn't this just a coincidence?

William happens to have a piece of Elder Wood in his hand.

This was obtained last year at the Department of Mysteries after the Ravenclaw's Diadem was restored to its factory settings.

But William hadn't yet decided what kind of Deathly Hallows this Elder Wood would be made into.

We could make another Diadem that brings wisdom, but there's no need.

William has the Ravenclaw Bronze Ring, so he doesn't lack time. The growth that wisdom can bring can basically be artificially created with time.

This is a bit like Indra's philosophy: if we're not smart enough, we'll make up for it with time.

Most importantly, Ravenclaw deliberately destroyed the Diadem in some way.

The Four Founders destroyed more than just the Diadem of the Deathly Hallows.

For example, Slytherin's Wand was essentially under hypnosis and turned into a Snakewood.

The Holy Grail, too, had its original power sealed away by Merlin's magic.

Trusting these wizards, William had no intention of making the Diadem again.

So, we need to think carefully about what kind of Deathly Hallows we should make.

Just as William was flipping through his Book of Alchemy, a silver phoenix suddenly flew in.

After the Patronus landed, Dumbledore's anxious voice could be heard.

Harry,

Missing

Come quick!!

William: "..."