The Mortal

Animals that obey the rules. "Snape has always been puzzled by the savior's rejection of magic. It is true that this is a Muggle society, but Slytherin is also good at circumventing the rules.

"What's wrong with that?" Harry asked back, his fingertips trembling slightly.

Snape glanced at him as he browsed through the Daily Prophet (which he had apparently only recently subscribed to). "I have to tell you, Potter, that your cover-up skills are beyond bad."

"Oh." Harry was cleaning the dust off the wooden ornaments on the shelves. "Don't you see that I'm not bothering to hide it?"

"It doesn't make much difference when you're giving it your all."

"Who said that?" Harry retorted. "I can do well."

Snape responded casually, but anyone could hear the blatant denial.

"Then let's get to the facts, for which I'm willing to risk my life to confess a secret." Harry managed to overcome the charm of the daily paper. "I lied to you on day one," he said with an exaggerated sigh.

"…which part?" Snape narrowed his eyes.

Guess what.He didn't dare to say that, otherwise this place might really become a murder scene, and Ron's prophecy of collecting the body would come true.So Harry could only say frankly, "The story of the armored van. I made it up. Mrs. Anderson didn't have a nephew, but the part about the robbery still has something to do with it. At that time, a speeder robbed her handbag. I took advantage of it." The cover of the night was solved with a little trick. Quite an old-fashioned plot, right? I still think the cash truck version is better."

He spoke as seriously as he could, but failed in less than two seconds.Then out of the corner of his eye he caught that Snape wasn't inclined to be mean to him, but accepted it with what could be called a leisurely snort.Oh, he winks, is this peaceful small talk?

In order to keep this state as much as possible, or to go further, Harry couldn't help but loosen the seal on the secret room in his heart, where there were too many things on his mind.Maybe be a little more frank?He gently pushed the door of the secret room, and a gap was quickly exposed.

"Has anyone told you, some, news about me?" he said hesitantly. "Headmaster McGonagall, or Malfoy?"

Snape returned an appraising look immediately. "Do you really think you are the center of the world?"

Please, it's obvious that you are so curious that you can't just say it straight. Harry muttered in his heart, but didn't dare to reveal a single word.

"Aren't you trying to ask me why I don't use spells much? Actually, I couldn't hold my wand steady for a while when I first came here." He threw the bomb calmly, looking like he didn't care at all. "So I really experienced the feeling of not being able to use magic."

He couldn't even clean up a new one, and he was scalded to let go before the complete syllable was finished, and his wand fell to the floor for the umpteenth time.He hadn't forgotten what it felt like.

"What?" Snape asked in shock, unable to imagine how a wizard couldn't even hold his wand tightly.

"Literally," Harry said softly. "My hands... I can't do it. They're shaking too much. Too much blood, the corners of the stone, the shadows in the pupils, that sound... that sound." A dull sound. (*See Chapter [-])

His last mission, the enemy he smashed to death with his own hands.To this day, he can still remember the details of that day. The afterglow of the setting sun was dark orange-red, and the wind made his face a little painful.That crazy man did everything he could. He watched his teammates fall to the ground in pain, even breathing became so difficult.Kill him, Harry.someone said.Use stones from the ground.

Dull.The hands and face were as hot as the blood spattered on fire.

Harry let out a long breath, and put away his mixed thoughts. "So I just had to play by the rules. Do you know how long those household appliances cost me? The first time I turned on the vacuum cleaner, I was so scared that I almost died because of the wand that I threw against the wall." He said helplessly. "It took a while to get used to it, and it was fun. Now I have no problems, thanks to the praiseworthy cooking time, seeing how steady my hands are when I chop the radishes? Practice results."

Except that a long time ago, the kitchen was always so messy that it was horrible, and the desire to cut off his hands grew wildly, and he angrily threw the vegetable cutting knife on the wall, leaving conspicuous marks on it.

"What did you do?" Snape asked, looking at him sternly.So it's really hard to fool double agents with vague verbal loopholes.

"Just a mission." Harry replied curtly.

"Potter—"

"Okay ok, I'm just weak and stupid and you didn't know that years ago. Today's story time is over, I'm going to the kitchen to see if the scones are ready."

He turned away.

Snape watched his back go, deep doubts in his dark eyes.Although he didn't get the whole truth, he could still sense something was wrong with his spy's acumen - he recalled what he knew about Auror work, and couldn't figure out what - after the war was over - was able to drive Potter into that level.

Maybe it's time to write a letter to the principal.He thought about it, and tapped his fingers on the table lightly and regularly.

until the doorbell rang.

Bethel Street had been a mess the first time Hermione visited.That was a year ago, she followed the scribbled address to find gate 109, and when she expressed her interest to the kind and enthusiastic landlady, she got several worrying sentences, everything showed that the things that troubled her friend made him suffer all the time .

She didn't have a detailed picture of what was going on, just fragments of words that Harry spat out during his trances and nightmares, his unconscious dexterity with terrifying precision, and the warm water marks on her shoulders.But even without the mysterious Auror for a year, everything before is enough to make any boy collapse, just like the scene she saw when she knocked on Black's old house when she graduated, the room was as dark as a cave in a deep mountain, her The friend's eyes were full of shadows and bloodshot eyes. She hugged him, and the thin body under her arms couldn't stop shaking.

"Don't take it on yourself," she said. "Harry, I'm here."

Hermione never thought of herself as stronger than most people when it came to the death of those around her.When she got the news of her grandmother's death years ago, she disapparated home despite the Ministry of Magic's ban. The familiar old man was lying peacefully on the bed. She looked at the eyes that would never open again and the lines left by the years, and realized that her life from now on Without this person's participation and company anymore, those warm words of concern and memories of love are like an illusory dream.Sadness drowned her like a river breaking its embankment.

And she stroked Harry's back, thinking how many times that grief would have to be added to equal the suffering he had suffered.

"I'm fine." He answered her.

Sharing, companionship and joint responsibility are indeed good ways, but Harry doesn't want to bring more misfortunes to her.He repeated softly, I'm fine, I'm fine. Hermione stayed with him for an afternoon, talking about some light-hearted and humorous topics. After returning, she almost ran all over London's bookstores and hospitals, relying on the advantages of years of reading to judge the possible effective way - after many aspects of understanding and investigation, she A gentle yet professional psychiatrist was chosen.

Harry accepted her offer.

"There are many ways to deal with pain, and I can try it slowly with you, Harry." The 40-year-old blonde woman said to him firmly. "But first, you need to speak up."

Dr. Green is indeed patient and dedicated.But because of the boundary between wizards and Muggles, Harry couldn't tell too much, and he picked and edited a few events in a different way-removing the part related to magic.

These are not enough cures, but offer practical ways.He followed the doctor's advice to focus on the trivial things in life, or to try new things - such as Muggle novels and movies, new dishes that Mrs. Anderson liked, and nice music tracks.He is willing to accept well-intentioned help and advice, and most of the time he is able to let go of his hostility and cooperate as much as possible. The only exception is the unknown overdose.

It took Harry about half a year to gradually regain his calm.He can take care of his own life, shuttle in a crowded shopping mall without overreacting to any stranger and attack, sometimes it is a good choice to go for a walk by the river, and there are opera performances that Mrs. Anderson is keen on.

But the important part of his heart is still tight-lipped, and Dr. Green can't do anything about it.

"You can't hide them forever, or it will entangle you for the rest of your life." She looked at the young man's handsome and gentle smile and sighed helplessly, knowing that it was difficult for her to get to the core of the crux. "Try to talk to someone you trust and see you next month," she said.

When he heard the doorbell, Harry was holding a tray taken out of the oven with both hands. The neatly arranged cranberry scones exuded a tempting aroma. He shouted outside, "It should be Mrs. Anderson, please help open it." Let's go." After that, he continued to deal with the things in his hand.

So when he came out of the kitchen with a porcelain bowl full of cookies, he didn't realize that today's date had been forgotten by him until he saw Dr. Green's playful eyes - it was a routine communication with the doctor every month day