Chapter 142 Go and find Avalon

The knights struggled.

But their hands were tied by vines, and even the swords on their waists were entangled.

"You evil wizard, let us go quickly. If we can, we will fight one on one!" A knight exclaimed, struggling hard, but all he could do was shake his hips slightly.

All petrified!

Harry didn't see it and cast a spell, turning him to stone.

"You damn beast." The other man cursed. Before he could curse a few words, a vine was roughly shoved into his mouth with a hiss, blocking his words.

"puff"--

A man sprays water from his mouth and falls on the vines.

Spray the one closest to him wet.

All the knights looked expectantly, and one second, ten seconds, one minute passed, and nothing happened.

Harry was waiting too.

He didn't sense any breath, magic or danger from the saliva.

"What are you expecting?" After a while, he couldn't hold it back and asked.

"Holy water has no effect!" The person who sprayed the liquid screamed in fear, and their eyes were full of shock.

Harry looked at them and shook his head: "What do you think wizards are? Bugs? Things that can be killed with a shot of insecticide?"

Look at their eyes.

Apparently that's what they think.

"Ugly bastards! If you want to kill us, do it quickly." The knight shouted, with a ferocious face and closed his eyes tightly.

The other knights are also prepared to die heroically.

Harry raised his head and looked at them.

This group of people does not pose any threat to Gryffindor or to themselves. Even the normal sixth and fifth year students at Hogwarts can easily deal with this group of people as long as they are not too panicked.

As for the little wizard who could pass through the Forbidden Forest and pass through the traps in the previous village, even if he had no brains before coming here, he should have grown up now.

"What are you going to do with them?" the Sorting Hat poked him.

Harry waved his wand.

The vines wrapped around the knight they met in the tavern and hanged him neatly: "The culprit cannot be left behind."

"As for the others," Harry raised his wand and pointed it at them: "Remember my name, I am Godric Gryffindor."

The Sorting Hat exclaimed.

He used the Oblivion Charm to tamper with their memories, and knocked them out with a Sleeping Charm. The vines tore off each of their left arms, twisted their swords, and threw them on top of each other.

"Hey, how do you say you are Godric?" The Sorting Hat twisted.

Harry said confidently: "This is a Gryffindor memory. Now I am playing Mr. Gryffindor and reliving his experience, so naturally I have to tell his name."

Seems reasonable?

The Sorting Hat nodded thoughtfully, somewhat convinced: "Then you cast the Forgetting Curse on them?"

"Change the image of me in their minds to Mr. Gryffindor." Harry was still confident.

The Sorting Hat poked him hard: "You can't do this, you are Harry Potter."

Harry shook his head: "Yes, I am Harry Potter."

The Sorting Hat was startled,

"I don't know what his original choice was." Harry said softly as he walked towards the boat docked in front of the lake, "Maybe with Mr. Gryffindor's character, he will let these people go, and he will be more willing to let these people go."

Do you believe in chivalry?”

"But this is my choice."

He stepped onto the boat and swayed slightly. The Sorting Hat didn't say anything, but just hummed a ditty again.

Harry took the helm, flicked his wand, and the boat sailed towards the center of the lake.

The fog gradually filled in.

Unable to see the road ahead clearly, even if Harry waved his wand, the fog did not dissipate and instead became thicker.

It floats.

Harry also waited patiently.

Just after an hour or a day, the fog suddenly dissipated, and an island in the middle of the lake appeared in front of him.

Harry moored the boat and walked onto the island.

The island was not big, and magic protected it. The plants did not grow too densely. After walking a few steps inside, a cobblestone path appeared in front of him. Harry walked along it and reached the center of the island in the middle of the lake. Here stood a

Cottages.

Next to the thatched house, there is a tomb with a line of text engraved on the cross-shaped tombstone.

"Here is buried the purest knight in Great Britain, the only saint who can lift the Holy Grail, Gahalad."

Harry bowed to show his respect.

He waved his magic wand, and a dead branch turned into a little man. He opened the door and walked into the abandoned thatched house. Soon the little branch man came out, cheerfully, proving that it was safe inside.

Harry walked inside.

The furnishings in the house are simple. A simple wooden board divides the house into two, with the bedroom inside and the kitchen outside.

He picked up the pan and looked at the back. There was a layer of charcoal ash accumulated on it: "It has been used for a while, but the charcoal ash is not thick, and it has not been in use for a short time."

"Rotten apples, meat, and, yes, half-drunk wine. The people who lived here left in a hurry."

"A follower of Gaharad, or..."

Harry frowned and walked towards the bedroom.

The furnishings here are simpler. There is a bed, the bedding on it has not been enchanted, and has long been tattered. There is also a wardrobe. He pulled off the loose door and opened it. The clothes inside were no surprise.

It has also been corroded by time.

"Men's clothing."

"But the size is a little small for the shoulder width."

It looks like something Ciri would wear.

Even though she didn't choose to become a witcher like herself, she grew up among witchers and had many of the same habits as witchers, preferring clothing that was convenient for combat.

So she lived here for a while?

And a long table beside the bed.

There are several books laid out, and the titles of the books, history, poetry, and magic theory can still be vaguely recognized.

Apart from that, there is nothing else.

Ciri left no clues.

Harry continued to check. There were no hidden compartments or cellars. This was just a very ordinary room. He could only walk out of the room and walk behind Gahalad's tomb.

Behind the thatched cottage.

A square stone half as tall as a man, with Gryffindor's sword stuck on it.

Sword in the Stone.

Harry smiled knowingly. He had reason to believe that when Gryffindor discovered the island in the middle of the lake, Galahad's relics would never be like this. Is this a little bit of bad taste on his part?

He jumped on the stone.

Both hands are on the hilt of the sword.

It's like the feeling of putting on the sorting hat when you enter school.

There seemed to be a voice asking in his ear: "Do you regret everything you have done?"

A squeak——

The sword of Gryffindor was pulled out smoothly with almost no obstruction.

The illusory voice paused, crackled, and dissipated.

The inner torture is over before it even begins.

A wooden box appeared so naturally on the stone.

Harry waved his wand and tapped it lightly, injecting magic into it.

With a click, the wooden box opened.

A projection poured out and landed on the open space in front of Harry. The figure made his heart skip a beat.
To be continued...