[HP] End of Death

It was almost midnight when Harry left Umbridge's office that night.His hands were bleeding continuously and couldn't stop.The night wind was cold, and he kept shivering. When Harry passed a corner, a figure rushed over from the corner and grabbed his right wrist.

"Hey!" Harry couldn't help but yelled, the man relaxed the grip on him, and somewhat flusteredly pulled out a silver and green striped scarf from his pocket and wrapped it around his injured hand.But the blood continued to ooze out, staining the scarf with blood.

"Why can't I stop..." He murmured in a low voice, his voice was extremely hoarse, and the deep pain that came out of it made Harry feel guilty, and he couldn't say anything to him.

Draco looked up, and the red eyes startled Harry.He subconsciously took a step back, but was held tightly by him.

"Why can't I stop..." he repeated, his voice seemed to be dazed, and Harry was frozen in place.

Draco slowly extended a pale hand, trembling, and moved forward.His fingertips touched the necklace around his neck, and the two sparkling gemstones reflected light in the dark corridor.With a shudder, Harry grabbed his wrist.

"I've got to go back, Malfoy. You too," he heard himself say, as calm as another.

Draco suddenly raised his head to look at him, his uncontrollable expression gradually calmed down.His eyes were still bloodshot, but he was calm.He withdrew his hand.

"I think so." He said lightly, put his hands in his pockets, turned and left without hesitation.

Harry stood stiffly in place for a long time before walking slowly towards the common room.

He thought there would be no one in the common room when he returned, but he didn't realize that Ron and Hermione were sitting in front of the fireplace waiting for him.Tears welled up in Harry's eyes at that moment, but he fought back.

Hermione anxiously pushed a small bowl of yellow liquid in front of him, exhorting, "Here, dip your hands in it, it's a strained and pickled juice from the tentacles of the Mortra rat, it should work .”

Carefully, Harry took off the bloody Slytherin scarf and put it on his knees, dipping his hands in the bowl.The pain subsided immediately, and Harry felt very comfortable. He said gratefully to Hermione, "Thank you."

Hermione waved her hand to show that she was welcome, she lowered her voice, and the firewood in the fireplace was crackling: "You know, I was telling Ron when you came in... we have to do something about her .”

"My suggestion is to poison." Ron said solemnly.

"No... I mean, we just said what a terrible teacher she is. We can't learn anything about Defense Against the Dark Arts from her."

"Hey, so what can we do?" Ron yawned, looking sleepy. "It's too late, isn't it? She's doomed to stay here when she gets the job, and Fudge will make sure That's it."

"Well," Hermione hesitated, "well, I was thinking today..." She gave Harry a nervous look, and then went on, "I was thinking—perhaps we should—just do it ourselves Done."

"What are you doing by yourself?"

"Well - let's learn Defense Against the Dark Arts by ourselves." Hermione watched the expressions of the two of them after finishing speaking, and sighed, "I mean, it's like Harry's first class at Umbridge It says, we're going to be ready for whatever's going to be waiting for us out there. I mean, we're going to make sure we can actually protect ourselves. If we don't learn anything in a year—"

"There's not much we can do ourselves," said Ron in a disheartened tone. "I mean, yes, we can go to the library and find some jinxes in the books to practice—"

"No, I think we're past the point where we just learn things from books," said Hermione. "We need a teacher, a proper teacher, who can teach us how to use spells, and if we don't do it right, You can also correct us."

"If you're talking about Lupine—"

"No, I'm not talking about him. Harry, can't you see that?" Hermione looked at Harry. "I'm talking about you, Harry."

A week later, Harry's confinement with Umbridge was finally over, and he suspected that the writing etched into the back of his hand might never disappear.They also finally learned the Vanishing Curse and were able to successfully make the mouse disappear.And Hermione had actually gone one step further and started practicing the spell that made the kitten disappear.

At the end of September, on a blustery night, they stayed in the library together to look up potion ingredients for Snape, and Hermione brought up the topic of Defense Against the Dark Arts: "I'd like to know, have you thought about it again?" About Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry."

"Of course I thought about it," said Harry grimly. "How could we forget that there was that hag who taught us—"

"I mean the idea of ​​me and Ron—" Ron looked at her in horror, shaking his head desperately, and she frowned, "Well, it was my idea—up to you Teach us."

Harry didn't answer right away.When Hermione had made the proposal a week ago, he'd thrown a tantrum at two of his pals, scaring them enough.

At the time he didn't think they understood him at all—the terror he felt every time he faced death, Voldemort, and they thought it was easy, that he was alive because he was good, and Harry Clearly not at all.

Countless sacrifices had been made to keep him alive, and that meant he had to bear all of their pain.

The pressure of death and expectation puts on him, which makes it impossible for him to easily talk about the relationship between talent, ability, responsibility and destiny.The subject was too heavy for Harry to even dwell on.

They wouldn't understand, Harry knew.But Hermione was right, they couldn't go on like this... In the darkness, the Ministry of Magic should have led the people forward, but now it aimed at them with a knife.Maybe Voldemort and the Death Eaters were laughing at their stupid cannibalism, and he, being the sane few, had to do something.

"Well... yeah, I've thought about it." Harry no longer pretended to be interested in the "Asian Antidrug Encyclopedia" in his hand, and slowly raised his head.

"Go on," said Hermione eagerly.

"I can't say good either."

"I thought it was a good idea from the very beginning." Seeing that Harry would definitely stop making a fuss, Ron joined the discussion more enthusiastically.

"You've heard me say it's all luck, haven't you? I'd say we should be armed, but I'm not the right person to—"

"No, no one is more suitable than you. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts is very good, and you can't deny it yourself." Hermione said gently, "Last year, you were the only one who could completely get rid of the Imperius Curse. Create a Patronus, and you can do all kinds of things that even adult wizards can't do."

Harry fell silent.After a while, he hesitated and said, "Just you and Ron, right?"

"Well," said Hermione, looking a bit disturbed, "well...don't lose your temper when you hear that, Harry, please...but I do think you should teach anyone who wants to learn .I mean, we're talking about protecting ourselves against Vol-Voldemort. Oh, don't be so downcast, Ron. It's not fair if we don't give others a chance."

Harry thought for a moment, then said, "Yeah, but I doubt anyone but you two would want me to teach them. I'm a monster in their eyes, after all."

Hermione blinked: "Hey, I thought you'd be surprised how many people were interested in listening to you. You know, we're going to Hogsmoor the first weekend in October De? Let's ask everyone who's interested to meet us in the village and discuss the matter, shall we?"

"Why do we have to go off-campus?"

"Because," said Hermione, copying down the kale-biting chart, "if Umbridge finds out what we're about to do, I don't think she'll be happy."