[HP] Being a problem student at Hogwarts

During dinner on Wednesday night, Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry and said softly: "I have ironed your best clothes. You can put them on tomorrow morning. Harry, I want you to put your hair back tonight." Wash. A good first impression works wonders.”

When Harry heard this, he felt like a brick hitting his heart - tomorrow is the day of trial!

Mr. Weasley said that he would accompany him personally in the morning, and he agreed with a forced smile, glancing at Sirius unconsciously. But before he could ask, Mrs. Weasley answered.

"Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it would be appropriate for Sirius to accompany you, and I must say I-"

"—thinks he's quite right," said Sirius through clenched teeth, and stabbed his fork glumly into the potatoes.

"When did Dumbledore say this to you?" Harry asked, looking at Sirius.

"He came last night when you were asleep," said Mr. Weasley.

Harry looked down at his plate. The thought that Dumbledore had been at the house on the eve of his trial without asking to see him made his already miserable mood even worse.

He didn't sleep well that night. The scar was throbbing with pain. There was a buzz in his head, like a broken radio struggling to adjust the signal. His dreams were also jumpy and illogical. Sometimes it was those long corridors that he was tired of looking at, sometimes it was those mathematical symbols that he could never understand, sometimes it seemed like he was swallowing something alive while half asleep, and sometimes it seemed like someone was whispering something vague in his ear. yelled.

At half past five in the morning, Harry suddenly woke up completely, as if someone shouted into his ear. This time he finally heard it clearly, as if the shout was his name: "Harry Potter! "He lay there motionless, with his eyes open, looking at the blurry color patches in front of him, feeling that he might really be under too much pressure and hallucinating.

He sat up slowly, feeling that his ears were still ringing. But Mrs. Weasley was already discreetly outside the door asking if he was awake. So he said nothing, put on his glasses, changed his clothes, and went downstairs in a daze.

After breakfast, he followed Mr. Weasley out the door. The chilly air made him sober up a little. Harry shook his head and dug his ears with his fingers, feeling that the tinnitus was getting better.

This is a good sign. Harry said to himself. Maybe it's just a symptom of being too nervous and not sleeping well... Look, wouldn't it be better if you step out and breathe fresh air? While cheering himself up, Harry silently followed Mr. Weasley on the Muggle subway to the Ministry of Magic.

The Ministry of Magic is very impressive.

The huge hall was resplendent, with dark wooden floors that had been polished brightly. The peacock blue ceiling is inlaid with sparkling golden symbols, which are constantly moving and changing, like a huge high-altitude bulletin board. The walls on all sides are paneled with glossy dark wooden boards, and many gilded fireplaces are embedded in the wooden boards. Every few seconds, with a soft pop, a wizard suddenly appeared from a fireplace on the left. And to the right, there were several people lining up in front of each fireplace, waiting to leave.

In the middle of the foyer is a fountain. In the middle of a circular pool stands a group of solid gold statues, larger than life. The tallest among them was a noble wizard, holding his wand high and pointing straight to the sky. Surrounding him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin and a house elf. Centaurs, goblins and house elves all looked up at the two wizards with admiration. Sparkling jets of water shot out from the top of the wizard's wand, from the centaur's arrow, from the tip of the goblin's hat, and from the two ears of the house elf. There were ding-dong-ding-dong, the sound of rushing water, the popping and popping sounds of people apparating, and the chaotic footsteps of hundreds of witches and wizards. With dead morning expressions on their faces, they strode toward the row of golden doors at the end of the hall.

Whether it was because he re-entered the magical world or because he was getting more and more nervous as the interrogation approached, Harry felt his head start to buzz more and more, as if the chaotic sounds in the hall were not coming from the outside world, but directly ringing in his head. in the mind. His scars were getting more and more painful, as if someone was trying to make a hole in his head with a drill.

These are all hallucinations under pressure, Harry said to himself. Of course Voldemort wanted to drive him out of the wizarding world, so it was normal for the scar to start to hurt. He wanted to disturb me... He looked at it and although he tried to calm down, in fact Mr. Weasley, who was sweating on the tip of his nose, moved his lips, but fell silent, pretending that there was nothing wrong with his buzzing brain and increasingly painful scars.

Telling him won't solve the problem. Why should Mr. Weasley worry? Harry thought absentmindedly, trying his best to ignore the discomfort in his head.

He followed Mr. Weasley into his shabby office. Before he could sit down, an old wizard with a hunched back, a shy expression, and floppy gray hair walked into the room, breathing heavily.

"Thank God, I was worried about what to do and didn't know if I should wait for you here. I just sent an owl to deliver a message to your home, but you obviously didn't receive it - an urgent message came ten minutes ago —it was the trial of the Potter kid—they changed the time and place—to eight o'clock down there in the old Tenth Courtroom—"

"What?! But they told me - Oh my God!" Mr. Weasley looked at his watch, jumped up in shock, grabbed Harry and rushed out: "Hurry up, Harry, we should Got there five minutes ago!”

Harry was staggered by the drag, so when he heard the buzzing voice in his head barely turn into a recognizable sentence: "Hey, hey, hey? Can you hear it?", he thought he was confused.

"Hurry up, Harry." They dashed through the questions and down a corridor. This corridor is completely different from the corridors above. The walls are empty, there are no doors or windows, but there is a simple black door at the end of the corridor. This corridor gave Harry a sense of déjà vu, as if he had returned to a dream, wandering around with anxiety and irritability. There was always a dead end or a locked door ahead...

Harry was in a daze for a moment, and the voice in his head was still yelling: "Hello?"

"Stop making noise!" He couldn't help shouting to himself.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Mr. Weasley grabbed his arm and pulled him to the left, where there was a gap that led to a staircase. "I'm a little anxious -"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, I didn't mean that you -" Harry shook his head and quickly apologized to Mr. Weasley.

"We are almost there..." Mr. Weasley panted and patted Harry on the back, "It's okay, they will be waiting for you... Don't worry, Dumbledore won't allow it..."

"Ah, I'm sorry, I talked too much." He seemed to remember that Harry was too noisy just now, so he quickly shut up again, only led Harry down to the bottom of the stairs, and ran forward along a corridor.

Harry felt sorry, but he couldn't bring himself to explain that there was a voice nagging in his head - Mr. Weasley must have thought he was going crazy under the pressure.

"Tenth... Courtroom... I think... we're almost there... That's right."

In front of a gloomy black door with a large iron lock, Mr. Weasley stumbled to a stop, leaned against the wall exhausted, clutching the clothes on his chest and breathing heavily.

The voice was still rattling around in his head, and Harry felt like he was going to vomit. He didn't know what he was thinking. All sorts of thoughts were surging in his mind, as if a pair of invisible hands were searching hard for something. Those memory fragments are floating up uncontrollably, especially the corridors that appeared in the dream recently, and I still can never reach the second chapter of "Advanced Mathematics"... 7

"It should be Harry..." the voice muttered vaguely, "If it was that guy, I would have been kicked out long ago..."

"Listen, Harry!" the voice rose in volume, and Harry felt the sting of his scar become unbearable.

"Come on," Mr. Weasley's voice began to get closer and closer, "come in quickly."

"Huh?" Harry said absently.

"Oh, sorry, Harry, I can't go in. Good luck to you!" Mr. Weasley unscrewed the heavy iron handle on the door for him, then pushed him, and Harry walked in involuntarily. Inquisition.

The walls around the house were made of black stone, and the light from the torches was dim and eerie. On both sides of him were rows of empty benches that were gradually rising, and in front of him, on the highest benches, many dark figures suddenly appeared. They had been whispering just now, and when the heavy door closed behind Harry, an ominous silence fell, making the voice in his head filled with many indecipherable muffled whispers even louder:

"The Dark Lord has become suspicious!"

Harry stared at the dark figures in front of him, his mind filled with questions: What? Am I finally crazy? Is my head starting to have a mind of its own? Can I use proof of insanity to exonerate me at a Ministry of Magic trial?