days at Hogwarts

Because tomorrow is Friday, the class schedule is relatively relaxed. Professor Sprout's herbology class will not start until noon. After Ron calmed down, the others in the dormitory laughed and played for a long time, and they didn't go to bed until the lights were turned off.

Harry repeated it silently several times in his mind, wrote down the time and place of the meeting, and put the note in the Half-Blood Prince's textbook.

Getting close to Professor Slughorn is a long-term task. Last semester, I was busy with exams. Although I frequently attended Slughorn's private parties, I had no say in potions. I could only concentrate on eating at every banquet. There was almost no progress in personal relations, let alone mentioning Horcruxes.

But this semester is different. I have performed well in the Potions course, and Slughorn is getting closer and closer to me. I believe there will be a breakthrough soon.

Tom Riddle as a student...

The Secret of the Horcruxes...

Slughorn's previous roles...

Harry casually put the old textbook on the bedside and closed his eyes. Bizarre thoughts emerged in his mind, all kinds of mess. He didn't know how long it took, his thinking speed became slower and slower, and the last thought was that the whistling wind outside the window became smaller.

Before I knew it, I fell into a deep sleep.

There was only a candle lamp in the dormitory with closed doors and windows, and the dim light burned quietly. In the dead of night, the old textbook beside the pillow suddenly moved without wind, and the pages turned one by one, finally stopping at the page with the inverted fuchsia. The words on it quietly disappeared, releasing a faint white light.

Harry, who was in a deep sleep, smacked his lips, turned over, and one hand naturally rested on the pages of the book.

Harry murmured unconsciously.

He began to dream.

……

The third Friday in September.

There is only one Herbology class in the morning.

The sixth grade wizards gathered outside the greenhouse. Some were stamping their feet to remove the mud from their boots, some were leaning on the crack in the door to look inside, and some were hugging books to their chests and chatting in low voices with the classmates around them.

The textbook for this semester is "Encyclopedia of Carnivorous Trees". The name sounds dangerous, but the more dangerous it is, the more exciting it is, and the more excited the little wizards are.

Not long after, Professor Sprout came over with quick steps. He was wearing a brown gardener's suit. He was short and fat and didn't look old at all.

Neville handed the textbook to Hannah and walked over to greet the professor. As one of the few students who scored full marks in Herbology, he is now Professor Sprout's assistant.

During the career consultation last year, Professor McGonagall suggested that he stay in school, first as an assistant for two years, and then take over Sprout as the professor of Herbology. Neville was a little tempted, but did not agree because his grandmother wanted him to become an Auror.

I heard that old lady Longbottom was scolded in a letter by Professor McGonagall. The subsequent developments are unclear. Neville refused to say, and even Hannah couldn't get the answer.

Neville, the assistant teacher of herbology, took the key and opened the greenhouse door, opened the locker, and distributed the teaching tools for this class, including garden shears, gardening shovels, protective glasses, rubber gloves, ceramic bowls...

Professor Sprout turned to face the students and smiled: "Good morning, students. Starting from this class, we will learn about the important plant of this semester, the knotweed vine!"

"Can anyone tell me the characteristics of the knotweed vine?"

"Miss Granger explained it in great detail. Even I can't say more. Gryffindor gets five points for this..."

"You are already sixth graders, so I don't need to emphasize the precautions of the greenhouse..."

"Let's go into the greenhouse and observe the knotweed vine up close..."

The course soon entered the second half. Students were divided into groups to freely observe the knotty vine and learn about its shape and color, growth environment, physiological characteristics, behavioral habits... The little wizards already had experience. If nothing unexpected happened, the homework for this class should be to write an observation report, about 10 inches long.

As usual, Loren's group of four gathered together around the stump of a knotty, knotty vine. Hermione was responsible for careful observation while the other three began to chat.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Harry asked hesitantly as he put on his protective glasses.

Loren looked at him in surprise. "Harry, we have known each other for six years. Why do you want to start a conversation with such a lame greeting?"

"Uh…I had a weird dream last night."

"Um?!"

Ron's eyes widened slightly behind his protective glasses and stared at him.

Hermione looked up at him and asked seriously, "Did you dream about Voldemort again?"

"No, that's not it." Harry shook his head quickly, hesitated for a few seconds, and whispered, "I dreamed of my mother and Aunt Petunia. The specific scene was very vague. It seemed that they were chasing each other by the river when they were young..."

"Don't think too much about it, Harry. It's normal to dream about your relatives." Ron said carelessly, "I dream about my mother every semester at school. After hearing about their love story, I also dreamed that they were dating in the courtyard and were caught by Filch..."

"Yeah……"

"Normal dreams are weird and illogical. This doesn't mean anything. When they were studying at Hogwarts, the administrator was not Filch yet."

"..."

Loren and Hermione looked at each other and lowered their heads to observe the roots of the knotty vine, which was covered with bumps and tentacle-like thorns, and looked numb and rough.

The pods on the branches are about to mature, bulging, and the pods inside are wriggling restlessly.

It’s probably difficult to draw a sketch based on observation records.

……

Saturday night.

"Sour pop candy."

Harry spoke the password on the note to the stone statue. With a rumbling sound, the wall behind the statue moved away, revealing a spiral staircase. He stepped on the steps and the staircase automatically spiraled up, all the way to the oak door with a brass knocker on it.

"Dong dong dong..."

"Please come in."

"Good evening, sir."

"Ah, good evening, Harry."

Dumbledore sat behind the desk, smiling.

The office looked the same as usual, with exquisite silver ornaments, a painting of the principal, and a sleepy Fox. If there was anything noteworthy, it was probably the meditation basin on the table, with silvery-white smoke floating slowly in it, as light as clouds on a lake.

Harry was no stranger to the Pensieve. He had seen Dumbledore's memories, Karkaroff's trial, the elf Hokey's memories, and Tom Riddle's murder of Hepzibah Smith after graduation, taking away Hufflepuff's gold cup and Slytherin's locket...

Harry had a guess in his heart: "Professor, have you got Professor Slughorn's memory about Horcruxes?"

"No, Horace is defensive against me."

"Whose memory are we going to enter? What secret things are we going to see?"

"Not really secret..."

Dumbledore recalled the scene of exploring the old Gaunt house with Loren a few years ago. He was in a trance for a few seconds, then shook his head and said, "I just think that you should see these scenes with your own eyes and learn more about the...story of that year."

"what story?"

"Come on, let's take a walk along the paths outside Hangleton."