"In late October 1979, just after nightfall."
Located on the south shore of the Firth of Forth, Edinburgh, Scotland's capital city, is abuzz with festive fervor, and even the sudden and unwelcome downpour is not enough to dampen the spirits as they celebrate this grand event.
In the midst of the torrential rain, Holyrood Palace (Palace of Holyroodhouse) stands resplendent and brightly lit at the end of Royal Mile. The dense rain curtain veils this ancient palace steeped in history with a cloak of mystery, but it still cannot mask the surrounding aura of grimness and bloodlust.
The ear-piercing scream of a door being forced open by an indescribable force, enough to overcome the combined impact of a billion drops of rain, echoed across the sky. The garage of the palace was wide open, and thirteen black cars, their entire bodies shining like mirrors, drove out in a row. They followed a predetermined route, crashed through the rain curtain, and disappeared into the night.
Tonight, the Holy Thorns will defend the glory of the Lord.
In the town center, a three-story building with a distinctive Georgian design echoed with cheerful birthday songs. The pumpkin lanterns hanging from the dentilled eaves outside swayed in the wind and rain, their swinging rhythm seemingly celebrating the little master inside.
Inside the fireplace next to the wall, neatly stacked logs were burning fiercely. On the wall opposite the fireplace, an evergreen wreath was wrapped around the edges, and a golden apple, decorated with hundreds of unusual golden acorns, was shining under the glow of the fire.
Mr. Hill, leaning against the window sill, withdrew his gaze from the endless darkness outside and turned his attention to his daughter seated at the long table in the dining room. She wore a gold gown with a vine-woven crown on her head, laughing joyfully. His eyes were filled with boundless affection.
Yet, the handsome face remained marred by a persistent melancholy.
"Dear?"
Lady Hill, with a gentle caress of her daughter's hair, sensed something was amiss with her husband. Taking advantage of the time when her daughter was conversing with her parents, she hurried over to the window, forcing a smile to dispel any lingering doubts in her husband's mind.
"This is a rare opportunity for family togetherness, my dear. You should spend more time with your loved ones."
"Excuse me, Hé Yā--"
In response to his direct concern, Mr. Hill managed a feeble smile. He looked out at the torrential rain and thunderous booms once again, sighing heavily after a moment.
"I just feel... there's an unease in my heart, Hé Yā. I always feel like something is going to happen."
"A slender, delicate hand rested on Mr. Hill's heart, feeling the chaotic beat. Mrs. Hill sighed softly, "
"I know what you're worried about, my dear, but..."
Mrs. Hill looked at her daughter, who had jumped into her father's arms and was playfully whining, lowered her eyes, and sighed similarly.
"This is her wish, my dear. She hopes to spend her birthday with her grandparents... you know, she will have a heavy burden in the future, and I cannot refuse --"
Mr. Hill remained silent, gazing silently at his daughter who was as innocent and charming as an elf, her light green eyes shimmering with not only pain but also hatred.
"When we go back this time, I want to persuade the teacher to lead all the disciples out of the jungle... There are many signs that show it is no longer safe."
After a long silence, Mr. Hill's words, which made Mrs. Hill furrow her brow.
"We have been living there for many years... where do you want to go?"
"The Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, it's a perfect place for us to dwell. Centaurs are no problem; we all revere nature and the stars. We can get along well with them..."
Mrs. Hill removed her hand from her husband's chest, frowning more tightly. After a brief silence, she directly pointed out the reason her husband was trying to hide,
"You want the protection of that wizard -- Albus Dumbledore, my dear?"
"That would be the best outcome, wouldn't it?"
Mr. Hill was not surprised that his wife had uncovered his little trick, and he spoke frankly, "
"Dumbledore's strength and breadth are well-known to all. If we could gain his protection, then we could have a chance to breathe, I mean... we wouldn't have to rush for that..."
"If it were in ordinary times, I might support your bold attempt, my dear."
Before Mr. Hill could finish his words, they were interrupted by his wife.
"But you and I both know that this is not a good time, my dear. Those wizards are facing great trouble themselves. The one the wizards call 'The Man with No Name' is causing chaos in the wizarding world, and Albus Dumbledore is overwhelmed. If he were to openly accept us now..."
Bang! Bang! Boom!
Bright lightning streaks the earth, while thunderous roars drown out the footsteps of death approaching.
As the humming drone subsided, Mrs. Hill continued to express her opinion.
"Do you think he would deliberately provoke another enemy he may not be able to handle with all his might?"
Mr. Hill's breathing grew rapid, he had not failed to consider these factors, but he held onto hope in his heart.
"Dumbledore is a kind wizard, and I believe... you should know, we were once united with the wizards. He wouldn't turn a blind eye to those in need..."
"That was more than a dozen centuries ago, my dear. We have already gone our separate ways with them. Perhaps Dumbledore is of high virtue and may feel sympathy for our situation, but I believe such a wizard would never be foolishly kind-hearted. He would certainly..."
"Dad, Mom?"
The increasingly tense atmosphere of their conversation affected others in the house. Vitória, who was sitting next to the table, received a reminder from her grandparents and looked at the entrance hall with her innocent little eyes, tilting her head.
"Go and bring your parents back, my sweet little fairy --"
"Yes!"
The elderly grandfather whispered something into his ear, and the alert Vitória immediately jumped out of his grandfather's arms, her mischievous appearance amusing everyone in the house.
Mr. and Mrs. Hill took a deep breath, easing the slightly tense atmosphere between them. Mr. Hill opened his arms, welcoming his daughter with rosy cheeks and a pure smile into his embrace.
Boom!
At that moment, the earth trembled violently, and the space above the first floor of the house, as if struck by a giant pendulum, disappeared into thin air. Before the dust could spread, it was mixed with rain to form mud.
In the suddenly dim world, a cluster of pure white light, as if fallen from the heavens, pierced through the chaos and settled upon the ground.
The scarlet blood, painful screams, and cold cries could not be suppressed even by the thunderous roars.
"Wail, I will avenge you!"
Between the broken walls and ruins, a little girl stood helplessly crying among a ground covered with red-stained acorns, with several bodies with eyes that had lost their luster lying before and behind her, their hands helplessly reaching out towards her.
"I will definitely kill you!"
The young voice, full of deep resentment, swore to the gods an unyielding declaration. It was firm but could not move the fates.
"Evil pagans."
The cold pronouncement echoed through the rain, and the penetrating white light shone once again, instantly replacing the encapsulating darkness. It would uproot and annihilate all those who dared to resist.
In the broken fireplace, the burnt oak suddenly burst into brilliant green light. A young sapling unfurled its body and grew from the ashes that symbolized death, and in an instant, it had become a towering tree that blocked the holy light washing over the earth.
"I'm sorry, Vitória--"
The elderly High Priest with green hair and emerald eyes ignored the screams of the believers pierced by tree branches, step by step approaching Vitória's side, and gently embracing her fragile shoulder. The old face was drenched with rain, tears, and sweat.
"Why... why did they not leave us alone, teacher? Waaah... Why?"
The little girl no longer suppressed her sobs and began to wail uncontrollably.
"... We almost forgot where this hatred began from, Vitória. We also don't know when it will end..."
The old High Priest's voice was sorrowful, and his emerald eyes glinted with determination.
"Our only choice is to fight until the end!"
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