[Comprehensive] The Little Yellow Flower of Snape's House

Professor Snape has been having the same dream lately.

In the dream, a teenager whose face could not be seen was holding his hand. They were standing on the street filled with characters he didn't understand, and they were eating a kind of food called "sushi".

— Sushi?what is it

The boy's face slowly turned into Lily's, and the professor woke up in a fright.

The basement can't get sunlight, and judging from the hourglass, it's only—it's afternoon.

Severus Snape was stimulated by the dream and wanted to light a cigarette. Muggle things like cigarettes can unexpectedly drive away troubles.

Recently, I always find some traces left by someone who doesn't know, chee—who is it?

Met Professor Quirrell sneaking around the other day - oh, and that damn Potter, always giving me that damn daddy stare -

"Dong dong dong."

"Come in."

Finch carefully carried the potion book into the office, "Professor."

"Ok?"

"I want to ask about unicorn blood."

"Oh, unicorn." Snape extinguished the cigarette in his hand, carefully waved his magic wand and cast a "dispelling spell", but the smell of smoke disappeared in the room, "the blood of unicorns is very Good medicine, even if you have only one breath left, it can bring you back to life - those stupid wizards with straws in their heads, make up story after story for unicorn, trying to make it holy thing, really, I wonder if those straw wizards might have unicorn kin in them—”

Professor Snape was a little irritable, and wanted to touch the cigarette in his pocket again, "However, there is no one who is absolutely holy in the world - as long as a stupid unicorn is in a girl's white skirt, it will be attracted Resting on it, what he likes is not the white dress..." but the sweetness of the girl.

Professor Snape just remembered that the child in front of him was just an 11-year-old boy. Although he listened carefully, Professor Snape stopped talking.

"Why are you asking this?"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm just curious," Finch always felt a little worried about Teacher Xiaohua's fear of liking unicorn blood. As expected, isn't Teacher Xiaohua evolving into a magical animal? Maybe it's because of this, "Professor, I have roughly digested the book in my hand, thank you, Professor."

The handwritten print on the hand is clearly written and the notes in two different handwritings next to the page complement each other, which is simply an excellent note for getting started.

Professor Snape was a little surprised by Finch's talent. In the past eight weeks, an 11-year-old had actually digested this book.

What a kid, both qualitative and talented.

Snape admired Finch somewhat.

"This book is the textbook for the next school year," Snape picked out a book from the nearby bookshelf, "It's also the book I used when I was studying, you can read it carefully in your spare time, and give it to you gone."

"Okay, thank you professor!" Finch took the textbook and looked at it, and the title page of the book actually wrote the signature "Half-Blood Prince", "I will take a good look at it!"

Professor Snape waved at Finch, and Finch went to the class with a smile, and after a while, he was crying again—the next class was History of Magic, and it was another CET-[-] listening test orz.

Finch met Professor Quirrell on the way to class. Professor Quirrell seemed to want to approach him and say hello to him, but he seemed afraid to approach him.

"Professor Quirrell." Finch greeted politely.

"Hello, classmate," Professor Quirrell couldn't help stammering, "Next... good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," Finch responded with a smile, "Professor, I'm going to class first."

"Ok."

Finch didn't know why this professor who wanted to hang garlic chains all over his body to exorcise demons was interested in him.

"Master," Professor Quirrell said, looking at Finch's back as he walked away, "he just greeted you."

"Of course I know, idiot!" The hoarse and sharp voice replied unceremoniously, as if nails were grinding on a blackboard, it was a bit unbearable.

"Finch, Finch," Malfoy poked Finch on the arm, "the professor asked you a question."

"Hmm——" Finch was drowsy, but suddenly woke up instantly, "Huh?" He broke out in a cold sweat in an instant, didn't take a nap at noon, and made a mistake——Finch stood up, hmm, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Professor Si looked at Finch bitterly. Finch didn't know what question the professor asked, but Hermione kept holding her hand high.

"Finch, please sit down, all right, classmate Hermione, tell me."

"1945, Professor, Gellert Greenwald was defeated in 1945." Hermione quickly said the correct answer.

Headmaster Dumbledore happened to patrol outside the History of Magic class, he was taken aback when he heard the familiar name, and then walked away silently.

Love makes people blind, so it would be nice to have no love.

More than 40 years have passed, and I have become an old bone, Dumbledore smiled wryly.

"Old man, what's the matter?" Mr. Luo Fu, who managed the student list, couldn't help asking when he saw Principal Dumbledore's back that made people feel increasingly lonely.

It has been more than thirty years since he came to Hogwarts to manage student files. The last person to manage student files was his father, Mr. Rover.

He followed Dumbledore the whole time.

Whether it was the vigorous young Dumbledore, or the steady Dumbledore who gradually settled down, they all fascinated him.

But he was already getting old, so what he liked was naturally not Dumbledore's appearance, but something deeper, his soul.

The soul that was once young and passionate, and then slowly vicissitudes until finally settled into a wise soul.

But I'm an old guy now, if someone just happens to show up and support each other until the end of life, it seems that it's not too bad?I wish Mr. Dumbledore thought so too.

"Oh, Goode," Goode Rover heard a familiar voice, Dumbledore replied not far away, "it's nothing, old man, are you interested in playing chess with me?"

"Of course." Mr. Luo Fu smiled, "Why not?"

The bodies of the two old men are still healthy——for us wizards, age is nothing, it is just a series of numbers with a fixed end point.

Before reaching this number, why not live well and wantonly?

Mr. Rover and Principal Dumbledore walked to an open space in the school, and both took out their scarred wizard chess pieces.

Several times, Principal Dumbledore lost badly.

"Oh, Goode, I think Wizard Chess must be the most difficult chess game in the world." Principal Dumbledore said with a smile, "If I want to guard something, Wizard Chess is safe for me."

"That kind of checkpoint seems to be able to prevent you," Mr. Luo Fu smiled, coupled with his fiery red hair, he was a bit young, "General."