Gabrielle had a dream tonight, in which her sister returned home at night, but she had escaped her parents, and she opened her room softly, and then walked to the bed and kissed her forehead gently.

The shallow moonlight shone on her face, and there was a charming sense of holiness, and even though she was asleep, she could feel the warm temperature of her sister's lips.

"Sister!" said Gabrielle, who awoke from her sleep and opened her eyes, her long silver hair scattered from her shawl, and only then did she see through the window that the sun had peeked out of her head, giving off a soft light.

It's morning.

She didn't even put on her cartoon slippers and changed into her pajamas, and rushed out of the room in a hurry.

"My sister has been back!"

She said to her parents, who were eating breakfast.

The family misses her sister very much, and so do her parents, who worry day and night.

Dumbledore repeated that Fleur would be safe, and even return to them soon, but that was not convincing at all.

The "heartbroken" student might have done something to their daughter.

"Gabrielle, you must be hallucinating. At the breakfast table, Madam Delacour patted Gabrielle on the head lovingly, she missed her daughter too, but it was too unrealistic.

At that moment, a piece of parchment fell from the chandelier with black handwriting.

"I'm fine, please don't worry. ”

Then the parchment was reduced to ashes in an instant, and lay quietly on the dining table.

"It's my sister's handwriting!" said Gabrielle happily, "and she's definitely back." ”

-------------------

Malfoy Manor, at this time it was quiet, the water in the fountain was suspended, and the proud peacock, who had been proud and accustomed to pacing back and forth, now hid in the corner, just like his master, and did not want to make a sound.

"Narcissa, I have something to inform you. In the living room, Lucius's face was a little heavy.

His wife, Narcissa, was now at a mahogany table with her hands on her cheeks, her eyes staring ahead with a somewhat languishing expression.

"Is it Draco?" Narcissa stood up immediately, her haggard look suddenly refreshed, but when she saw Lucius's expression, she became more nervous than before.

Lucius's pale face was serious, his eyelids drooped, and the silver snake-headed cane in his hand was tightly gripped.

"Don't get excited, there's no news from Draco yet, it's just another thing that's not so good, I hope you can calm down when you hear it. Lucius hesitated, apparently struggling to tell her wife about it.

This must have been an aggravating factor for her wife.

But he couldn't keep it hidden, Narcissa had the right to know the truth of the matter, it was her relatives.

"Your sister, Bellatrix, died in Azkaban. Lucius said in as unemotional a tone as possible, as if that would ease some of the sadness.

Narcissa's already pale face could no longer find a trace of blood at this time, and she asked in a trembling tone:

"Mysterious... Didn't the Dark Lord go to save his men?"

"I don't know. Lucius closed his eyes heavily, "I can feel his monstrous anger through the Dark Mark mark, maybe the rescue failed." ”

All Death Eaters were able to sense Voldemort's emotions through the Dark Devil mark, and the more pain there was, the more excited the man was.

"One of the newspaper owls of the Daily Prophet delivered me the latest news that Azkaban had collapsed and that the prisoners in it had no survivors and were all dead. ”

"I'll give her a decent funeral, they're dead, they won't be too embarrassed, you say. Lucius put his hand on his wife's blonde hair, stroked her slowly, then pressed her back into the chair, leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, comforting her.

Narcissa nodded, rubbing her slender fingers across her temples, looking tired, her loved one less in this world.

But this didn't make her too sad, the faint melancholy just lingered in her heart, and it couldn't be said to be a heart-rending pain.

Her sister had not been in contact with her since she was imprisoned in Azkaban.

Time would dilute everything, and it seemed to Narcissa that her sister had gone insane under the torture of the Dementors, and perhaps it was a good thing to be relieved.

"What about Draco, is there any news of him?" Narcissa then asked in fear, lest she hear some bad news.

What she cares about most at the moment is her son.

"I've already said it, not yet. Lucius shook his head, and then he comforted, "No news is the best news." ”

"No one but Dumbledore has been able to catch him, trust our children. Lucius encouraged.

And the people they were worried about are now embarking on a new journey.

"Is this direction? is it Germany?" asked Fleur as she sat on the train, looking out the window at the landscape that was rolling backwards along the railway, with vast plains and mountains as far as the eye could see.

After secretly meeting her relatives, Fleur was in a good mood, with an unstoppable smile on her face, bright and moving.

The man's wand was in hand, and the final destination was of course Nyumungard, where Grindelwald lived temporarily, and the detention center on a par with Azkaban Prison.

It was in Germany, but the exact location was unknown, they didn't even know if it was inland or in the sea, and even Dumbledore didn't tell them.

After some repairs to the Fraudsters' Bazaar, Malfoy and Fleur finally set off, still using their usual trains.

The destination is Berlin, the capital of Germany.

If France gives people a sense of romantic laziness, the streets and alleys can be seen everywhere and everywhere leisurely and relaxed, walking slowly and slowly, loving to enjoy life.

As soon as you get off the train and leave the station and enter the city, the first impression of Germany is that of a strict stereotype, most of them are in a hurry, but they follow the rules and are meticulous.

Of course, because of propaganda or prejudice and so on, people will have a stereotypical impression of a nation, in fact, there will be strict people in France, and there will be careless people in Germany, but in general, the impression is accurate.

Especially in France, there is even a saying that even if ten French people and nine are lazy people, that one hard-working genius can drive their progress.

The topic of bias stops here.