Harry Potter’s Book of Sin

Harry put Sorting Hat on his head and stared at the black lining of the hat black, waiting a little nervously.

At this moment, a small voice said in his ear: "Is there something I can't understand, Harry Potter?"

"Oh, yes." Harry whispered vaguely. "I'm sorry, bother you, I want to ask..."

"You always wondered if I put you in the right house." hat said cleverly, "Yes... your position is really not easy to fix, at least it is much better than that of Marx McLorne... ..."

“Marx?” Harry was surprised.

"Yeah! You didn't think about him all the time?" Hat gently said, "McLorne should have gone to Ravenclaw, but he went to Hufflepuff; and you should have gone to Slytherin, but-"

Harry's heart slammed down. He grabbed the top of the hat and took it off. The hat was hanging in his hand in a soft, collapsed, faded color.

Harry put it back on the original shelf and felt a nausea.

"You are wrong." He said loudly to the hat that quietly stayed, brief remark.

Hat did not move.

Harry stared at it, stepping back, and suddenly there was a suffocating strange cry behind him, and he turned sharply.

On a tall, gold-plated perch behind the door, stood a senile bird, which looked like a turkey with half of its feathers.

Harry stared at it, and the bird looked at him with a bitter look, and at the same time made a suffocating voice.

Harry thought it looked so ill--it had no eyes on it, and it was just a moment when Harry looked at it, and a few feathers fell off its tail.

Harry thought, if Dumbledore's bird died, and only him and the bird were alone in the office, it was enough for him to suffer...

Just as he thought so, the bird suddenly caught fire all over.

Harry screamed in horror and slammed back into the table. He looked around all around anxiously, expecting to have a glass of water or something, but did not see it.

At the same time, the bird has become a Fireball. It screamed and then disappeared, leaving only a pile of ashes on the tray underneath the branches that had not been completely extinguished.

The office door opened and Dumbledore walked in and looked very dignified.

"Professor," Harry gasped. "Your bird... I can't help it. It suddenly caught fire..."

Dumbledore looked at the pile of ashes on the tray, and the original dignified face suddenly showed a smile.

"It's almost time," he said. "It has been around for a long time. I always told it to act quickly."

He couldn't help but smile when he saw the horrified expression on Harry's face.

"Fawkes is a Phoenix, Harry. When Phoenix is ​​about to die, he will self-immolate and then regenerate from the ashes. Look -"

Harry turned his head and saw a small, wrinkled little chick crawling out of the ashes. Its appearance is as ugly as the old bird.

"It's a pity, today is its nirvana day," Dumbledore said, sitting down behind the table. "It's very beautiful most of the time - the whole body is amazing red and golden feathers. Phoenix is ​​really Peculiar fascinating life, they can carry extremely heavy things, their tears have healing effects, and they will remain infinitely loyal to the objects they recognize."

In the horror caused by Fawkes' self-immolation, Harry temporarily forgot why he came here. But at the moment, when Dumbledore sat down on the high back chair behind the table and stared at him with his light blue, penetrating gaze, he remembered everything.

"Professor Dumbledore ......"

“Is there anything I want to tell me?” Dumbledore said softly. “Nothing, say slowly.”

Harry found that when he really faced Dumbledore, what he wanted to say became hard to open.

Marx and his relationship have always been very good, and I received a gift last Christmas - although the note on "Occlumency" has never been seen.

But these are proofs of friendship.

If you tell Dumbledore what happened to Marx, it’s not like...

No, this is also for Marx! Perhaps, as Hermione said, Marx is only affected by what dark magic, and this matter has to be resolved as soon as possible.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry took a deep breath, then looked firmly. "I think Marx is likely to be affected by some kind of dark magic from Voldemort, he..."

Harry spoke out what he saw and heard and some guesses. Including what Ron saw, Hermione speculated, and what he felt, all told Dumbledore.

"...this is the case, Professor Dumbledore."

After he finished speaking, he looked at Dumbledore's face with a complex look mixed with expectation, hoping that the other party could give some solutions.

But who knows, Dumbledore is just laughed.

"Don't worry! Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "Marx is fine. He isn't affected by any dark magic. Yes, I know his changes are a bit big, but this is his own choice. All we need to do is believe. He, that's it."

Dumbledore paused, and then said: "What about you? Harry, is there anything else that is willing to tell me? I mean - about yourself."

Harry groaned and hesitated.

He remembered Malfoy's scream: "The next one is your turn, mudblood!"; and remembered that Polyjuice Potion was still squatting in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Then he remembered the ghost-like voice he had heard; remembering Ron's "to hear the sounds that others can't hear, this is not a good sign, even in Magic World."

He also remembered what everyone said about him and his growing fears, for fear of his relationship with Salazar Slytherin...

For a time, the complicated doubts made Harry hold his mouth tightly.

“No,” Harry said. “Nothing, sir.”

……

Both Justin and Nearly Headless Nick were attacked, which made the already nervous atmosphere a real panic.

It’s strange to say that what scares people most is the experience of Nearly Headless Nick.

What can be done on a ghost under this poison, people ask each other. What terrifying power can hurt a dead person? The students are almost scrambling to book the seats on the Hogwarts Express train, hoping to go home for Christmas.

The three of Harry, who have recently chatted and chatted, fell silent.

Although Polyjuice Potion is already fast, they don't know if it should be used.

Even though Harry told Dumbledore's answer to Ron and Hermione, it didn't help much, and the fear didn't seem to have diminished.

After a good thought, they still intend to use Polyjuice Potion to go to Malfoy to test it out, letting themselves tentatively do something, so as not to be too annoyed by such thoughts.

Finally, the semester is over, and the heavy silence like the snow on the ground envelopes the entire castle.

Luna went home, and every Christmas she had with her at home was not an exception this year.

Although she asked Marx if she wanted to go to her house together, she had a lively Christmas like last year, but this time Marx did not agree.

He still has a lot to do, and he can't delay any more.

What he didn't expect was that this Christmas, he was not alone.

"There is a flower, help me see it."

A familiar voice rang from the stairs as Marx sat on the wall at the top of the astronomical tower.

"Miss Blois." Marx turned his head. "Don't you go back?"

"There is a flower, help me see it."

Wynie stood on the stairs and was still wearing the wide, loose, Slytherin robes, and repeated the words just now.

"..." Marx looked at Wynie and asked after a while, "What flower?"

"no name."

Wynie took a small bag from her arms and opened it to look at Marx.

It was a handful of flower species, white and white, and there was some faintly discernable psychedelic color.

Marx carefully picked up a flower and put it under the nose to smell it, and immediately felt some pungent smell - the taste is definitely not good.

“I have never seen it, it should be a rare magic plant,” Marx said. “It looks very similar to the seeds of the Magnolia, and perhaps a very environmentally demanding flower.”

"Go and try it, I will help you apply for the fifth greenhouse."

Marx walked with Wynie towards the office of Professor Sprout and soon got to the key to the greenhouse.

In the fifth greenhouse, Marx quietly recorded the morphological characteristics of the seeds on the Herbology notes, while Wynie stood next to the ground pots.

Now two people don't like to talk, and they are doing things together, but they don't have a corresponding atmosphere.

Because of this, the efficiency of work is unusually high, and things are finished soon.

While Marx was about to leave, Wynie took the initiative.

"What about you?" she said suddenly.

"what?"

“Is there something to help?”

Wynie's short speech seems to have become a habit, and I always like to omit the premise.

“I?” Marx thought for a moment, then shook his head slightly. “No.”

Wynie pushed the big pointed hat up and looked at Marx quietly. After a while, he quietly said: "If there is... tell me."

After all, she turned quietly and pushed away the door of the greenhouse.

Marx stood in the greenhouse, looked at the closed door and thought for a moment, and eventually chased it up.