Saddened and wept because of Voldemort's defeat?

It would be a bit far-fetched to think so, although he had not experienced that brutal war years, but Amosta knew something about what kind of wizards who followed Voldemort who called themselves 'Death Eaters', judging from Greyback and his group of werewolves.

Sirius Black, known as the Dark Lord's number one officer, betrayed the Potters in order to show his allegiance to Voldemort, and even ruthlessly crushed another friend who came after him.

Amosta had no doubt that Blake was a hard-hearted guy and that he was absolutely loyal to Voldemort.

However, because of this, Amosta would not believe that he would shed tears here, especially since he was tortured by the Dementors in Azkaban for twelve years, he should be a villain who is only one line away from complete madness, and it is understandable to bring a bouquet of flowers to the old master, but because of it sad and weeping... Is there still such a sentiment of sadness in the heart of such a guy?

Amosta stood silently in the ruined room, frowning and deep in thought.

Did you guess wrong?

Sirius's goal was Harry, he had never been to this place at all, and the bouquet of flowers and tears in front of him were not left by Blake?

Judging from the extent of the bouquet of dried flowers, the person who left the footprints had been gone for at least a month or so, and for such a long time, all the traces of magic in the air had naturally dissipated, otherwise, Amosta would have had some means to trace it.

A breeze from the wilderness roamed the streets that crisscrossed the village, and the weeds and nettles in the courtyard swayed gently in the wind.

The bunch of dried lilies in front of the picture frame, with a few petals, also floated into the air under the action of this breeze, swirling in front of Amosta, and slowly drifting down.

Staring at the yellowed wilted petals, Amosta's eyebrows suddenly moved, and he had an idea.

Five minutes later, Amosta returned to the church he had passed earlier, and behind the church was a cemetery, in which rows of tombstones of the same style were neatly arranged, most of which were lined with bouquets of fresh or dried flowers.

The cemetery was presumably reserved for wizards living in Godric's Hollow, and Amosta came to this conclusion as he stood outside the cemetery, glancing over the words engraved on the nearest tombstones.

Although he did not know the deceased buried under the tombstones, when those ancient and illustrious surnames Amosta would not be unaware.

If there were no accidents, the Potters should also be buried here, but Amosta did not step into the cemetery to look for it, he did not return here to find the tombstones of the two of them, but..., Amosta turned his head and looked in the direction of the left front of the church, where there was a flower shop.

As Amosta stood in front of the small florist, which was crammed with white or yellow flowers that were often used for memorial looks, a fat lady in her fifties with her back to him was gently wiping the petals of a bouquet of white roses.

It was a witch, and Amosta recognized it at a glance.

"Hello, ma'am, what shall I call you--"

Hearing the greeting, the witch who was immersed in her own world suddenly came back to her senses, only to find that her small shop had customers.

"Hello, this gentleman, I'm Irri Tramon, the owner of this flower shop, may I ask you, how can I help you?"

"Well, Ms. Tramont, I'd like to buy a bouquet of flowers—" Amosta looked at a bouquet of gentle white lilies in the flower tube on the ground behind the boss.

"Oh, it's the bunch, no problem, sir."

The chubby flower shop owner acted unexpectedly, and within two minutes, he trimmed the lilies and wrapped them in an old newspaper and handed them to Amosta.

"Twenty pounds, sir--"

Amosta raised an eyebrow in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, Ms. Tramon, I only have Gareon here. ”

"Ah, you're from our side..."

Ms. Tramon, who had just smiled politely, came to her senses at once, and after she looked around to make sure that no one was there, she looked at Amosta with a surprised gaze, "You are a wizard?" Oh, sir, I have to say, your Muggle costume is so professional that I didn't even recognize it. ”

When Amosta revealed her wand, Lady Tramon was completely disillusioned and spoke to Amosta very enthusiastically.

"--Oh, yes, yes, a lot of wizards buy flowers from me, are you here to worship the Potters?"

"So..."

Amosta handed over a few gold gallons, sniffed the flowers, smiled, and asked casually,

"There are a lot of wizards who come here to mourn them?"

"Of course, are they heroes, and besides, their children defeated the mystery man and saved us from fear and despair,"

Ms. Tramont said in a slightly respectful tone,

"Every year, on the day of the murder of the Potters, their birthdays, Harry's birthdays, and even their wedding anniversaries, many wizards come here from far and wide to mourn him... Well, the last wave of people came over during the summer vacation, around the end of July, and it seemed to be Harry's birthday so much, oh, I heard through the grapevine that the villain Black escaped from Azkaban to deal with him, but I think he's safe and sound, right, because Dumbledore is still at Hogwarts! ”

"Of course, I agree with you."

Amosta smiled and nodded, and then, curiously, asked,

"Do you remember..., I mean, who bought flowers from you to mourn the Potters?"

Quirky question...

Madam Trammon thought so, but she didn't pay much attention to it, because over the years of opening the shop here, she had encountered more and more strange questions about the city, because she was a native of the place, and some foreign wizards even asked her if she had seen how little Harry had defeated that terrible wizard who couldn't even mention his name more than ten years ago!

Just kidding, is there any chance she would know this?

"Hmm... Who are they? ”

Tramon's eyes rolled upward, trying to remember, and after a moment, she smiled apologetically at Amosta,

"Can't answer your question, sir--"

The owner of the flower shop nodded at the cemetery behind the church, "Look, sir, even on ordinary days, there are many people who come here to buy flowers, and I can't ask the name and identity of every guest, right?" ”

This answer was not unexpected, and even if the bouquet was really given by Black, it was unlikely that Amosta would put his face on his face, and the reason why he asked this was just a matter of luck, hoping that the boss would remember some guys who behaved strangely.

"In that case--" Amosta also smiled apologetically at Lady Tramon, "I beg your pardon for offending..."

The owner of the flower shop, who was already about to end the conversation and went to take care of her own affairs, was stunned when she heard this, she stared into Amosta's eyes, and before she could ask the young wizard why she said this, she suddenly found that the young wizard's very recognizable lilac eyes suddenly shone brightly, and then, as if the sky had fallen, an unfathomable darkness like an abyss appeared from the heart of the pupil, and in an instant, Tramon lost consciousness and control of his body.

Call---

From the moment they met, Amosta flipped through the memories of the flower shop owner, freeze-frame images, and accelerated images wrapped in a massive amount of information, like a wave towards Amosta standing above nothingness, making him unconsciously squint his eyes.

Two days... A week, two weeks... Through Ms. Tramon's perspective, Amosta quickly grasped all the people who had been around the church in recent times.

Amosta has an excellent memory, which may be due to the superposition of his two souls, and the innate otherworldly spiritual power, with full attention, he can remember the faces of each of these flashes of sight, and compare them with those wizards he already knows.

The further back you go, the more blurred the faces of those people who appeared in Tramon's subconscious memory, and by the time period twenty days ago, the outlines of those people were still clear.

It wasn't that Amosta couldn't make Lady Tramon remember what those people looked like, but if he did, it would cause irreparable mental damage to the innocent lady, and besides, those blurred faces didn't make Amosta's taut instincts tremble, so he didn't do it.

Memories go on, twenty-eight days, twenty-nine days, thirty days...

"I need a bouquet of lilies."

At dusk, a wizard with greasy black hair, a cold aura all over his body, and even a deep voice appeared in front of Amosta's eyes, making the entire memory world freeze!

"Snape... Professor? ”

In the void, Amosta opened her mouth silently...

Reading Pavilion