[HP] Should the escaped wizard from Azkaban enter Hogwarts?

At eleven o'clock sharp, we got on the train to Hogwarts. In the car, my wife happily asked Harry if he wanted to share the same carriage with us. Harry hesitated and happily agreed.

Only my wounded world has been reached!

Out of sight, I closed my eyes and told myself that as long as I couldn't see, I could tell that Harry was not sitting with my wife.

My wife and Po Te (yes, that’s right, I now feel that Malfoy’s nickname is not just a great one) had a great time chatting... Was my wife so happy when chatting with me... Why can’t the one sitting next to my wife not It's me... can Pote still be able to withstand the second death curse...

etc! That last sentence doesn’t seem quite right!

Some people appear calm on the surface, but in fact they are already thinking about the possibility of successfully escaping after killing the savior.

After dozens of minutes of one-sided suffering, we finally arrived at Hogwarts. Just when I thought this ordeal was finally over, I saw a certain boy who survived the accident smiling and waving to his wife before getting out of the car to say hello to Hagrid.

he! Towards! old! Po! Wave! Got it! Wave! hand!

After chatting with my wife for so long, are you still not satisfied? Are you waving just to leave a good impression on her so that we can continue to talk to her and build a good relationship in the future? Do you want to poach me in the end? ? ? ? Unforgivable! ! ! (lose your mind)

Ning has no nostalgia for this world, right? ! ! !

My wife, who had waved goodbye to Harry just now, suddenly realized that I had been glaring at Harry's leaving figure. She, who can be called "the master of judging micro-expressions of Closier", understood what I was thinking in an instant. , she rubbed my head: "It's not as exaggerated as you think. Besides, it's a good thing that I'm popular. Isn't this a good thing? It means that I am very charming."

I lowered my head and rubbed her neck, my voice a little aggrieved: "But I..." I would be jealous.

Clothier would be jealous.

I didn't dare to say the second half of the sentence, so I asked myself, what position do I have to be jealous?

My wife sighed, said nothing more, and pulled me onto the boat used to cross the Black Lake.

By the time the boat arrived at Hogwarts Castle, I had already calmed down my emotions. Side by side with my wife, we followed Hagrid's guidance and followed the large group into the Hogwarts Great Hall.

Hundreds of candles floated above our heads out of thin air, and where the ceiling should have been there were bright stars. "The ceiling of the auditorium is enchanted, and you can see the sky outside - this is what I read in "Hogwarts: A School History"!" A voice sounded.

I knew it in my mind - Hermione Granger, the reliable woman in the combination of "a reliable woman and his two useless men".

Thinking of this, I turned my head and glanced at my wife who was holding my hand next to me, only to find that she was holding the Sorting Hat in front of the auditorium with her face slightly distorted. Weirdly, I understood what she was thinking.

Has this hat been washed? ? ?

I'm a little disgusted, but this is obviously not something that can be rejected just because I dislike it. Amid the din, I heard Professor McGonagall shout, "Chlothia Riddle!"

Perhaps because they had already met her during the holidays, she was not surprised by her wife's last name. The wife raised her head, adjusted her wizard robe, put on a perfect smile, gracefully stepped forward under the gaze of everyone, and put on the Sorting Hat, without any trace of her original resistance.

Looking at her back as she walked forward, I suddenly felt that she would leave me like this in the future without looking back. Would she, who is so dazzling, really be willing to stay with such a terrible person like me for the rest of her life?

"Slytherin!" the Sorting Hat only thought for a moment before shouting.

I saw Pott standing at the back of the team. He was watching his wife walk towards the Slytherin table in shock, as if he didn't understand why such a gentle girl would enter the "evil academy" in his mind.

I laughed, and I really wanted to tell him that you still don’t understand Crocia.

Weirdly, my vanity was somewhat comforted.