Harry Potter’s Book of Sin

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

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

Oh, yes. Harry whispered vaguely, Sorry to bother you, I wanted to ask...

You've always wondered if I've placed you in the right academy. Hat said wittily, Yes...it's really not easy to place you, but at least it's easier to decide than that Maca McLean many……

Maca? Harry asked in surprise.

Yeah! Haven't you been thinking about him? said the hat softly. McLean should have gone to Ravenclaw, but he went to Hufflepuff; and you should have gone to Slytherin. ,Can--

Harry's heart sank suddenly. He grabbed the top of the hat and took it off, and it hung limply in his hand, dirty and faded.

Harry put it back on its shelf, feeling sick.

You're wrong, he said aloud to the hat, which stood still and said nothing.

The hat didn't move.

Staring at it, Harry stepped back when suddenly there was a strange suffocating sound from behind, and he turned around sharply.

On a high gilded perch behind the door stood a doddering bird that looked like a half-plucked turkey.

Harry stared at it, and the bird looked at him sadly, making that suffocating noise.

It looked very sick to Harry - its eyes were dull, and a few more feathers had fallen off its tail while Harry was looking at it.

Harry thought that if Dumbledore's bird died and he and the bird were alone in the office, that alone would be enough for him...

Just as he was thinking this, Bird suddenly burst into flames all over his body.

Harry gave a yelp of horror and backed away against the table. He looked around anxiously, hoping for a glass of water or something, but there was none.

Meanwhile, the bird had turned into a ball of fire. It screamed and disappeared, leaving only a heap of still-extinguished ash on a tray under its perch.

The door of the office opened, and Dumbledore walked in with a serious expression on his face.

Professor, Harry gasped, your bird... I can't help it, it caught fire...

Dumbledore looked at the pile of ashes on the tray, and a smile suddenly appeared on his solemn face.

It's about time, he said. He's been like that for days, and I've been telling him to hurry up.

Seeing the startled look on Harry's face, he couldn't help smiling slightly.

Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. When a phoenix is ​​dying, it sets itself on fire and rises from the ashes. You see—

Harry turned his head just in time to see a small, wrinkled chick poking its head out of the ashes. It looks as ugly as the old bird.

It's a pity that today is its day of nirvana, said Dumbledore, taking a seat behind the table. It was very beautiful most of the time—all marvelous red and gold feathers. The Phoenix Strange and fascinating beings, they can carry great weight, their tears are healing, and they are infinitely loyal to whomever they approve of.

In the horror of Fox's self-immolation, Harry temporarily forgot why he had come here. But now, when Dumbledore sat down in the high-backed chair behind the table and fixed him with his light blue, penetrating eyes, he remembered everything.

Professor Dumbledore...

Is there anything you want to tell me? Dumbledore said gently, It's nothing, take your time.

Harry found that when he actually faced Dumbledore, it became difficult to say what he originally wanted to say.

Maca has always had a good relationship with him, and he received a gift for Christmas last year-although he has never read the notebook about Occlumency.

But these are proofs of friendship.

If you told Dumbledore what happened to Maca, wouldn't it be like...

No, it's for Maca too! Maybe, as Hermione said, Maca was just affected by some kind of black magic, and this matter should be resolved as soon as possible.

Professor Dumbledore, Harry took a deep breath, and then said with firm eyes, I think Maca was probably influenced by some kind of dark magic of Voldemort, he...

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

...that's it, Professor Dumbledore.

After he finished speaking, he looked at Dumbledore's face with complicated eyes mixed with anxiety and expectation, hoping that the other party could give some solutions.

But who knows, Dumbledore just smiled.

Don't worry, Harry, Dumbledore said with a smile, Maka is fine, he has not been affected by any black magic. Yes, I know he has changed a bit, but this is his own choice, we need to All you have to do is trust him, that's all.

Dumbledore paused, then said again: What about you? Harry, is there anything else you would like to tell me? I mean—about yourself.

Harry froze, hesitating.

He thought of Malfoy yelling, It's your turn next, Mudblood!; and of the Polyjuice Potion still simmering in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Then he remembered the ghostly voice he had heard; and Ron had said, It's not a good sign to hear voices that other people can't hear, even in the wizarding world.

He also remembered what people had said about him, and his growing fear that he had anything to do with Salazar Slytherin...

All of a sudden, Harry pursed his lips tightly with complicated doubts.

No, said Harry, nothing, sir.

...

Justin and Nearly Headless Nick are both attacked, turning an already tense atmosphere into genuine panic.

Oddly enough, the thing that scares people the most is what happened to Nearly Headless Nick.

What could do such a thing to a ghost, people asked each other. What terrible force can harm a man who is dead? Students were almost scrambling to book seats on the Hogwarts Express in anticipation of being home for Christmas.

As for the three of Harry, they have been chatting recently before falling silent.

Although the Polyjuice Potion was almost ready, they didn't know whether to use it or not.

Even though Harry told Ron and Hermione about Dumbledore's answer, it didn't have much comforting effect, and the things to worry about didn't seem to be lessened.

After thinking about it for a while, they still planned to use compound potion to test Malfoy, so that they could do something temporarily, so as not to be too troubled by such and such thoughts.

Finally, the semester was over, and the silence as thick as snow on the ground enveloped the entire castle.

Luna has gone home, where she spends every Christmas with her dad, and this year is no exception.

Although she asked Maca if she wanted to go to her house together and have a lively Christmas like last year, Maca didn't agree this time.

He still had much to do, and there was no further delay.

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

There is a kind of flower, show me it.

When Maca was sitting on the top floor of the Astronomy Tower and writing something on the wall, a familiar voice sounded from the stairs.

Miss Blois. Maca turned her head and said, Didn't you go back?

There is a kind of flower, show me it.

Willie stood at the foot of the stairs, still wearing the baggy Slytherin robes, and calmly repeated what she had just said.

... Maca looked at Willy, and asked after a while, What flower?

no name.

Willie took out a small cloth bag from her bosom, opened it and showed it to Maca.

It was a handful of flower seeds, pink and white, with some vaguely psychedelic colors.

Maca carefully picked up a flower seed, put it under his nose and smelled it, and immediately felt some pungent smell - that smell was definitely not pleasant.

I have never seen it before. It should be a relatively rare magical plant. Maca said, It looks very similar to the seeds of crystal magnolia, and it may also be a flower with high environmental requirements.

Go try planting, I'll help you apply for the fifth greenhouse.

Maca led Willy towards Professor Sprout's office, and soon he would arrive at the key to the greenhouse.

In the fifth greenhouse, Maca quietly recorded the morphological characteristics of the seeds in herbal medicine notes, while Willie stood by and spread the bottom soil for the flower pots.

Now the two of them don't like to talk, they are clearly doing things together, but there is no corresponding atmosphere.

Because of this, the efficiency of work is extremely high, and everything is done soon.

Just when Maca was about to leave, Willy spoke up.

What about you? she said suddenly.

what?

Is there anything I can help you with?

Willie's brief speech seems to have become a habit, and she always likes to omit the premise.

Me? Maca thought for a while, then shook his head slightly and said, No.

Willie pushed up the brim of her big pointed hat, looked at Maca quietly, and said quietly after a while: If there is... tell me.

After finishing speaking, she turned around calmly, pushed open the door of the greenhouse and left.

Maca stood in the greenhouse, looked at the closed door, thought for a moment, and finally ran after him quickly.