[hp] stay out of it

Stepping into that house means that it will be more difficult to avoid the main thread of things in the future. I can't think of it.

I avoided the question of whether to go back to Grimmauld Place, but thanked the dean, washed and dried the glass of lemonade, put it on the tray, took my leave and left.

"Don't forget to go back to the school infirmary to pick up your presents," Professor Flitwick added later, "Madam Pomfrey is afraid that they will wither, so you will keep them for you."

...sounds like I got a lot of flowers.

What do you think about giving a gift that doesn't really mean anything?Is there anyone I know who is this boring?

I shrugged and sauntered back to the door of the Ravenclaw lounge. There was a bronze knocker on the wooden door, and I knocked absently, thinking about what happened on November 24th.The Ravenclaw eagle on the door knocker uttered a melodious question: "What is the problem of my existence?"

"Oh, happy Christmas Eve. Are you getting your brains screwed up by the goddamn holiday too?" I sighed, "The answer is 'What? How? Why?'. Please do a normal difficulty next time ?"

"You are happy too. The difficulty of the same question varies from person to person," said the Ravenclaw Eagle inscrutably. "This question is specially given to you."

The wooden door swung open, and while I wondered what it meant, I stepped into the academy's lounge.The Ravenclaw common room has the best view in the whole school - of course, it is also the least convenient to get in and out.If you want to go back to the dormitory, you have to climb to the top of the tower first, enter through the wooden door that guards the dormitory, and then go all the way down...

Fortunately, our dormitory was not assigned to the bottom.

The lounge is now filled with moonlight, and the tall windows almost capture all the stars in that direction.I stopped in the middle of the lounge.

My existence, what, how, why?I can't seem to figure out even the first question.

"Of course you are a wizard." A voice suddenly sounded in the seemingly empty lounge, which startled me. When I looked back, there was a vague figure in the shadow that the moonlight could not reach.

"Lumos." I took a half step back and lighted my wand cautiously.

The darkness was dispelled, Florette tilted her head to avoid the light from my wand, and continued: "At least from my point of view, you are not a vampire, werewolf, veela, water monster, centaur, etc. The offspring of hybrid magical creatures, and your above-average magical qualities mean that you are not a squib, then you can only be a wizard."

"I'm a wizard, that's lucky, Merlin bless me." I twitched the corners of my mouth, and found that he had a book on his lap, and he was even sitting on the same Nordic-style armchair a month ago. "You prefer this chair?"

"No, the truth is, I've been sitting here for a whole month. I haven't moved," said Florette gravely.

"Oh, that's really convincing." I nodded earnestly: "Happy Christmas Eve." Then I left Florette, who was still thinking, alone in the lounge.

Turning down a few flights of stairs, I went back to the bedroom and saw the curtains drawn by those two guys, I lit my wand again, and found on the vacant bed in our dorm (usually stacked with some seldom-used clutter) There were at least a dozen Sirius grins--all of the various papers, several issues of the Daily Prophet, one of The Quibbler, two of Wizards Weekly, Dark Crimes (an in-house issue of the Auror Office Magazine) and so on with his photo on the cover, there are several magazines like "Why We Can't See What We Should See Clearly - An Anti-Dark Lord Hero's 13 Years in Azkaban" The rest are large and small posters made after follow-up shooting from various angles.

Today's wizards rarely have any stories to interest them. It seems that the legend, tragedy, and inspirational experience of a handsome wizard who has been wronged for more than ten years and successfully cleared himself of his crimes really cannot keep people from paying attention.

I shake my head.Based on Professor Flitwick and some words, I basically guessed the undercurrent of the wizarding world during this month.Basically, the Order of the Phoenix has formulated a strategy of using Sirius as a bait, trying to provoke the opponent's nerves and disrupt their pace, and it is best to catch someone to weaken Voldemort's power.

Of course, I looked at the Sirius who was grinning indifferently in a few posters after the person who spotted the camera and rushed to take pictures, and felt that if someone told me that Sirius was his favorite, he only made a splash in the newspaper and caused this situation—— I wouldn't be too surprised either.

Having said that, if Voldemort had seen even a little bit of these deliberately inciting reports and photos, he would have wanted to crush this provocative guy into pieces.

I clicked my tongue twice and put the newspaper and magazine back where they were.When I took out my other robe from the closet, the scarf in the closet fell out. I bent down to pick it up, and happened to see a corner of a beautifully wrapped gift peeping out from under Benelli's bed.By moonlight, I saw the little sticky note on the gift wrapping: For Vincent.

Looking around carefully, I found many Christmas decorations that I hadn't noticed before, high-hanging mistletoe, golden bells, and small Christmas trees high on the bedposts. It seems to touch people's hearts more.

The peaceful and peaceful decoration is somewhat different from the festive and lively style of the Spring Festival, but the uplifting warmth conveyed in it is from the same source.I took a deep breath and congratulated myself on Happy Christmas Eve.Putting the robe on the bed, I went to the door of the dormitory and closed the door absent-mindedly, only to find that there was still something sticking to the door.

Santa and angels?

Frowning, I moved my wand over to see a blown-up poster of the headline photo Flitwick had given me of the December [-]nd Daily Prophet: Sirius, just acquitted I received a large amount of compensation for this), and happily embraced my godson Harry (he came to attend the audition on leave) and smiled happily at the camera.

Benelli and Dench, probably out of their wits, added a Santa hat to Sirius' head in the photo, and gave him a rather spectacular snow-white shaggy beard, and added a Angel halo and white soft wings, big golden "Hallelujah" written in the blank space, and dark light flowing.

……

Ah, it seems that everyone starts to be stupid when it comes to the holidays.I pouted, and tapped the poster with the tip of my stick.A light rose from Harry's head.

—They forgot to draw the halo.

Yawning and lying back in bed, I stared at the bronze and blue Ravenclaw drapery ceiling, doing what a lonely person does on a heartwarming holiday—reminiscing about the past.There are various pictures floating in my mind, some of which I was lucky enough to be invited to visit when the particle collider was built in my country, and some pictures of trying to write couplets with a brush at Hogwarts every spring (of course, the writing was scrapped without exception. ), it felt like no more than ten minutes had passed, but the sky suddenly turned bright.

I opened the curtain and sat on the bed, waiting for the two roommates to wake up.Dan Qi was the first to open the curtain. He was taken aback when he saw me, and then smiled: "Oh, you're back before Christmas."

Benelli rolled out of the bed curtain with a thud and fell to the ground, got up and gave me a hug.

"So, you've been out of it long enough," Benelli said.

I laughed dryly, and pushed the question to the aftereffects of returning from summer vacation (later I knew that my statement coincided with Madam Pomfrey's conjecture fortunately).

Dan Qi and Benelli looked at each other, and then looked very worried.

"What if it relapses again?" Benilli asked.

"Can you guarantee that you can wake up next time? You seem to be unable to explain what happened this time and how to get better as if nothing had happened." Dan Qi said, "I advise you to take some responsibility for your own IQ." .”

I knew in my heart that this was a matter of order—because the information about Voldemort’s return was pushed back by at least half a year before Dumbledore knew it, and in the whole chain reaction, I was the butterfly flapping its wings— But I won't tell anyone about this, so I did my best to deal with the concerns of my two partners.

When the concern about the coma subsided, I remembered the imitation potion of thinking he wanted to configure (in order to find out what Mrs. Hornby was thinking), and asked him how he was doing, Benelli Shrugged: "I didn't have time—although Florette helped us do it later."

"Oh, sorry." I apologized, desperately trying to figure out how to make it up to him.

Benelli said with a smile: "It's okay. There is Easter. I can think of a way on the eggs then."

"He's saying we're going to have to keep creating catastrophic explosions in the Potions classroom until the potions are ready until the Easter holidays in March," Danki translated.

"Very challenging." I nodded.

"Sirius is out of all trouble," said Benelli suddenly.

"I already know." I pointed to the magazines on the bed.

"Merlin's beard, although you gave us a general introduction... But I didn't expect the details to be so thrilling!" Bellini said in admiration: "Your dad is very cool. Give me an autograph How about it?"

I looked at Dan Qi suspiciously, and Dan Qi shrugged: "You must have not had time to go out and find out—for some reason, he is even more popular than idols! Your father's legendary experience has fascinated many people—especially Gryffindors - of course, you are also popular, girls think you had a tragic childhood, these days even if you lie in bed, you get more invitations than the two of us .By the way, you also received a lot of flowers."

And the information I can report back to them is only the descriptions published in the newspapers, and small details that have nothing to do with you-know-who-Merlin, I will not tell them all about Voldemort's plot or anything, and involve them Come into these black and white struggles.Of course, the less you know about Voldemort, the better, otherwise you will only sink deeper and deeper into this dangerous quagmire.

When I went to the auditorium for breakfast, as Danki said, I really got attention.But that's usually not a good thing.

After I sat down at the long Ravenclaw table, I was greeted warmly by Pansy.She raised her slender and heroic eyebrows, and her neat short hair swayed in her ears: "Hi, White, I finally see you! Can I ask you a question? Why are you called White? I mean, The newspapers only mention your, oh, brave, exploited father, but are vague about your last name..."

I ignored her and bowed my head to talk to my companions - sitting next to the mocking and provocative Slytherins, learning to block out sharp noises is a necessary subject.

Dan Qi swallowed the toast, wiped his mouth with a napkin, then picked up a cup of black tea and said earnestly: "You have owed a lot of problems to be solved since the competition, I think it is urgent, you have to find Bruce clichés. There's always something wrong with this genteel Boyle."

"He hasn't been around since the Tournament," interjected Benilli. "He and that Elaine are always absent. Fleur told Dench that the two of them rarely spend the night in the carriage, always coming and going." Quickly... Hi, Fleur. We just mentioned you."

"Oh, is that so?" Furong shook her long silver hair, and sat next to Dan Qi familiarly. When she took something from the bread basket in front of Dan Qi, her long hair almost fell into Dan Qi's cup. Dan Qi only gave way a little.

I loosened my hand and almost dropped the spoon on the table.

Fu Rong handed her female companion two slices of bread, then took the knife that Dan Qi thoughtfully handed over, spread butter on her own bread, and said to me, "Long time no see—I heard that you were eaten to death by something." Bitch—is that right, Dan?"

"Exactly," Dan said.

"Attacked by a Death Eater with a weird spell, and has been bedridden. What's that spell, can you tell me about it, eh? I mean... Vincent?"

Benelli stepped on my foot, and I recovered from the trance caused by too much horror. "Bill!" I subconsciously spit out the name echoing back and forth in my mind.

"Bill? Are you saying it's a spell named after its creator?" Fleur asked curiously.

I was speechless, hesitated a few times, and then I was moved to be interrupted by someone interrupting the subtle question of who is Bill.

"Vincent, long time no see." I immediately turned around and saw Bruce who was said to have "hadn't appeared in a long time".His eyebrows were raised, there was uncontrollable joy in the corners of his eyes, and there was a strange smugness in his eyes.

Bruce and Elaine, who are always polite, just looked straight at me and pretended not to see the other four people. What's even more strange is that even Benelli and Danqi were ignored, and Fleur and her friends were always at odds with Danqi. , This time he smiled very kindly and nodded to them.

"Long time no see," I said, "Have I not had time to congratulate you on passing the dragon?"

I immediately realized that I had answered the wrong word, and he and I exchanged glances, knowing that both of us immediately thought of the living room where the duel was held six years ago.The weird excitement showed again on Bruce's face, and then he smiled flawlessly and said, "It's really thanks to you."

"What a coincidence. I didn't expect you to recover today. I was going to ask Phillips to hand it over to you." He took out a tightly sealed package from his robe and put it on the table, and left without breakfast.

It was square and familiar, and it also had the red clay badge of the Boyle family printed on it. Without thinking much, I sat on a chair and disassembled it, and it contained the things I had done under the watchful eye of Vicky Boyle. A crystal box found at home.As soon as the sun hits it, the exquisite little box reflects the bright light, making people sincerely feel that this is the most crystal clear and admirable thing in the world.

Fleur and her companion made admiration, and the eyes of Bellini and Danqi were also attracted.

"This is..." Dan Qi didn't continue, exchanged glances with me, and then looked suspiciously in the direction Bruce left just now.

Furong looked back and forth between us, but didn't make a sound.

"I thought I'd never get this thing again," I said to myself.After all, from my limited understanding, Bruce's status in Boyle's family is not very high. I thought he would definitely not be able to help me get back the things that were seized.I opened the box carefully, and found that the glass bottle containing the memories hadn't broken yet, and a white mist floated slowly in the crystal bottle.

After a few glances, I closed the lid of the box, folded the brown paper used to wrap the box and stuffed it in my robe. As soon as I finished these things, I saw Professor Flitwick at the staff table beckoning to me.

Only a few hours had passed in between, and I was still hesitant about going to the Blacks' house.

But the first problem is that I can't find a reasonable reason to reject Flitwick, can I?

Come on, if you really don't want to go, your brain can help you come up with more than a dozen unassailable ways to say it.A voice sounded from the bottom of my heart.

"Did Flitwick tell you to go back to Sirius?" Benelli recognized the dean's mouth. "This is a very good choice, Vincent—although we will miss you at Christmas—have a happy Christmas!" Clothes, of course, and my own observations on this world order.

It doesn't make sense!I thought, why would I want to go to the Blake house for the holidays?Where does this feeling come from, in other words, what is my motivation for wanting to go back?

You know.you feel alone.You want a place to belong.

Oh well, talk to yourself?The first step in schizophrenia.

But I can't deny that the emotional version of Jiang Jin is wrong.I really don't like being alone.So after the rational version of Jiang Jin came to his senses, he had already bid farewell to the others, and left the auditorium with Professor Flitwick.

"Farewell? Well, I have to tell you that since quarter to seven I've alternated three communication methods, but there's no response from Grimmauld Place, but that's all right," said Professor Flitwick hastily, "probably It's Sirius up to something again - he's famous for being unpredictable! The point is, Kingsley - an Auror, brilliant - was at Grimmauld Place last night, and this morning he was at the Ministry Li exchanged information with me, and he said everything was fine there."

"Have a good Christmas. Vincent, you are a smart boy, and you will soon find out that dancing with little girls is not as good as a Christmas reunion," Professor Flitwick had already put on his Santa hat and walked Turning around, he said, the tip of the hat moving happily: "—oh, you will realize that there will always be people coming and going in your house, and someone will explain why to you in a moment—take this. Remember after reading , and burn it, you know what it is."

A slip of paper was mysteriously stuffed into my hand, and it was engraved with elegant fonts: Grimmauld Place NO.12.We went into the staff room and stood by the fireplace, and I took a pinch of Floo powder and sprinkled it on the flames in the stove.

The warm red light rose immediately and turned into a strange emerald green, twisting in the air strangely.

Come on, I have no reason not to go there.Suppressing the last trace of uncertainty in my heart, I said to myself that the important story of Christmas happened at Hogwarts, and I was not wrong to stay far away.

I said good-bye to Professor Flitwick and started towards the stove, only to trip over the edge of the crumpled blanket and fall headfirst into the flames.

"No. 12, Grimmauld Place." I said hastily, so as not to lie down in a pile of ashes if I spoke too late.

Flying through the fireplace, the rooms that flash past in front of me all have a tall green decoration-Christmas tree, and the next second I stopped in a daze, but I didn't see a bright living room like I used to use the fireplace before , but slammed his head hard against the hard wall, making a loud bang.

I opened my eyes, and it took three seconds to realize that it was too dark here, not something wrong with my optic nerves.I took out my wand and was about to heal, but my hands were empty without warning, and then I saw a pair of large malicious eyes glowing in the dark.

"Master told Kricht not to disturb him anymore," the elf with negative energy muttered to himself, snapped his fingers, and my wand started to burn by itself, "Krich obeyed all of Blake's orders." Instructions. Do not let the owner be disturbed in the slightest." By the light of the fire, I saw that this was a small enclosed space covered with bricks and stones on six sides, not much bigger than a standing coffin.

Something trickled down my head, blurring my vision, and I wiped my forehead and found blood all over my hands.I shook my hands, facing this weird face that obviously harbored malicious intentions, I suddenly became irritable, and all the melancholy in my heart flew out of the blue sky.

"Hey." I squinted at it, thinking it would be a good idea to cut off its head: "That's your little master's third wand, idiot."

Krich rolled his eyes and looked away from me: "Krich doesn't know that a person whose surname is not Black can still claim to be Krich's master. Krich doesn't think that a person with Boyle's blood can It could be called pure blood.”

"People who betray their bloodlines are not allowed to step into Black's house." Krich straightened up his rickety waist slightly, and then disappeared from the darkness with a crisp sound.

In the past three and a half years since I was in China, this is the first person who dared to treat me like this.Beaten up by Douglas Boyle and chased all over the school by old Crouch, now a house-elf has come to throw a wrench at me!

"Can't I deal with you without a wand?" I was a little annoyed, and cursed a few times, not sure if Kretcher could hear me.

Damn house-elf, whatever important role you play in the future, I'll hang your head on a board when I'm out.

The most important thing about an intellectual is his head, understand!It contains knowledge that three hundred long-nosed Klitsch can't exchange for, bastard!

Cursing bitterly, I raised my hand carefully to test the wound on my forehead.

Hiss...it hurts!Depend on!

The author has something to say:

We finally arrived at Grimmauld Place.Yo~

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PS, don’t just stare at Sirius and look at friends == After reading all kinds of comments calling Sirius, I feel that the protagonist has no sense of existence at all.The author has a kind of faint, faint melancholy.

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This is the second watch.Love to worship me.Ho Ho!