On the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle on the second day of the Christmas holidays, the current headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, is sitting on a wicker armchair beside his desk with two lamps The umbrella-shaped lighting emits a faint light, but it also illuminates almost every corner of the room.
At this time, he squinted his eyes slightly, enduring a portrait's chattering accusations.
The ancestor of the Black family, the former headmaster of Hogwarts, Phineas, is now questioning Dumbledore in a stern tone: "You actually brought this thing to the headmaster's office? What are you trying to do? Dumbledore!"
If anyone else were present now, he might not have the slightest doubt that the man in the portrait would jump out of the frame with excitement at any moment.
"I believe Dumbledore has his own reasons." A portrait next to him also opened his eyes at this time, dissuading Felix on the side.
The portrait is a kind-looking and wealthy middle-aged woman, wearing a large and gorgeous lady wizard robe, which is covered with various seemingly mysterious patterns.
"I'm sorry." Dumbledore bowed slightly to the portrait, then stretched out his hand, and gently shook the wand in his hand, awakening the person in the portrait, who immediately fell into a deep sleep again.
It is worth mentioning that the moment Phineas fell into a deep sleep, his expression was quite ferocious.
Then Dumbledore casually walked to the back of the door. On a tall gilded perch, his pet phoenix was sleeping on it. Dumbledore stretched out his wide and somewhat wrinkled palm, and suddenly rose out of the palm. A ray of light blue flame, Fox seemed to smell something, suddenly opened his eyes, stretched his head out docilely, opened his mouth, and swallowed the ball of fire.
After a satisfied hiccup, it let out a soft and trembling cry, and spit out some white mist.
At this moment, there was an unhurried knock on the copper door of the principal's office. Dumbledore's hand, which was stroking Fox's head, froze suddenly, and he sighed silently. Then it was back to normal quickly.
"The password is chocolate baby, Harry." Dumbledore said in the direction of the door, full of air, and walked a long way.
With a creaking sound, the monster in charge of guarding the door downstairs jumped aside. The wall split in two, and the door opened. Harry walked up the spiral staircase, and then gently pushed open the door with the griffin. The gate with a brass knocker in the shape of a beast.
"It's so cold." The thought flashed through Harry's head after he stepped into the room. "Hogwarts can't have air conditioning, can it?" He thought wildly.
"Professor?" Harry asked tentatively, walked slowly to the other end, while looking at the surrounding environment, the silverware that should be placed on the corner of the table and on the bookshelf for puffing smoke seems to have been put into a box Here, nothing can be seen, and the portraits hanging on the wall are now sleeping peacefully and peacefully.
Only then did Dumbledore walk out slowly from behind the door with his hands behind his back, "Hello, Harry." A tired smile appeared on his old face.
"Sit down, Harry, I came to you just to have a chat with you." Dumbledore said kindly, and while waving, a chair slipped under Harry's body with a "swish" sound.
Harry sat down, his heart kept beating, feeling that Professor Dumbledore was a little abnormal today, but he didn't think deeply about it, because in his cognition, Dumbledore would not harm him, now Strange at best.
"Well, Harry, I just came to you this time to talk about your scar pain." Dumbledore took off his glasses at this time, wiped them, and put them back on.
"Professor, you..." Harry looked at him in surprise.
"Don't be surprised, your godfather was too worried about you, so he revealed something to me not long ago, I hope you don't blame him, and I guess, you should come to me soon, so I simply called you over first , talk about it."
"It doesn't hurt that much." Harry said without confidence, hoping to save Dumbledore from worrying so much.
Because of this, he feels like a "porcelain doll" who must be protected by others at all times, and he is eager to prove himself.
After people are placed with unrealistic and high expectations, responsible people will try their best to meet the expectations of others. Harry hopes that he can make the title of "Savior" more suitable for him.
"Don't underestimate any small thing, it may be a sign of some big event, for example, if your scar suddenly starts to ache during the game, it is enough to be fatal, Harry." Dumbledore was concerned Said, "I heard you fainted?"
At the same time those piercing blue eyes met Harry's dark green ones.
Harry suddenly felt that he had become dazed, his eyelids became heavier and heavier, and he wanted to have a good sleep, but suddenly there was a feeling of coldness that went deep into the bone marrow.
Harry closed his eyes, sat on the chair, waved his hands frantically, and kept saying, "It's so cold, so cold."
"It will be fine soon, Harry, bear with it." Dumbledore's generous voice kept coming to his ears, and Harry wanted to open his eyes, but found that his eyelids were now terribly heavy, as if he had been swallowed. lead.
A sense of despair suddenly climbed into his heart, so sudden and urgent, he hadn't experienced this kind of experience for a long time, the last time, it seemed, was in the third grade, in that crucial Quidditch match, when he encountered On to the Dementors.
"Dementor?" Harry's consciousness seemed to start to struggle, and the chair under him began to shake desperately, "Whoa..." Harry subconsciously grabbed his wand, hoping to use the Patronus Charm to put this damned creature away. The creatures are driven away.
It's just that his subconscious spell only uttered the first half of the syllables and the second half of the syllables in his throat, as if half of his throat was stuck and he couldn't make a sound.
"Forgive me, Harry." Dumbledore was holding his wand with a trembling hand, and stared at the boy in front of him with a complicated expression. The expression on the boy's face at this time was very painful. It seemed that he was enduring a great torment.
Why? Because a Dementor was now floating behind Harry's chair, it bent down, its battered, scabbed hands gripping Harry's shoulders.
Even though the doors and windows were closed, the old cloak was still fluttering. The cold air in front of the principal's room was brought by this evil creature, and under Dumbledore's instruction, this evil creature had been floating on top of the gorgeous ceiling. on, hiding his figure.
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