HP Dark Hero

?Holding his wound, Harry began to regret not learning his original healing spell from Severus properly.

The spell was very effective for cuts, cuts, cuts, etc., but the syllables were so weird, it sounded like a chants, and no matter how many times, Harry could only remember the beginning 'Vul...', or something.

But on second thought, let Severus Snape teach him?He couldn't learn it until Merlin was born again.

Putting a Lightning Curse on himself, Harry tried his best to maintain a silent and fast pace. Seeing that the ground was covered with blood all the way, Harry simply pressed hard on the wound, hooking his fingers to let the splashed blood float in another direction After continuing, he casually cut off a section of the hem of the cloak and transformed it into a bandage to temporarily hold down the blood on the side of his waist.

After all this was done, Harry gasped and turned in the opposite direction.

It was a deep and narrow dead-end alley that the sun could not shine through. The dirty black walls were covered with black and green mildew spots, piled with rubbish and litter left by the nearby Muggle residents, except for a bicycle with one wheel missing and embroidery marks. Outside the spotted iron barrel, there was something that looked like a dog corpse, its fur was gray and rotten, and it was crawling with wriggling white maggots and flies, buzzing in the corner of the wall. Harry calmly avoided the remains of dead animals, stepped on a low cabinet with a gap against the wall, and got into a large garbage bin with an unpleasant smell—in case Remus Lupine came, his keen sense of smell could easily find Harry, who smelled bloody all over his body .

The breath was suddenly filled with disgusting sour smell, corruption, and the rustling and crawling sounds of some creatures, which made the scalp numb. Harry was squeezed together with several bags of garbage. They seemed to have been bitten by rats, and his hands were covered with sticky and slippery liquid. He could only avoid his eyes as much as possible in the limited space.He had to jam an apple core against the lid to provide himself with a minimum of air. Harry held his breath, listening to the sounds outside through the slit. After he hid for a few minutes, several people were talking in low voices and chasing in the direction of his fake escape. He recognized one of the voices as belonging to Tonks. .

The sound of chaotic footsteps passed bustlingly, and soon fell silent.

Harry was still alert, his wand firmly gripped in a blood-slick hand.

He waited for a few more minutes to make sure there was no other situation before relaxing his vigilance a little.

A pair of eyes suddenly appeared between the slits of the lid that was pushed open from the apple core.

Although he couldn't see anything clearly through the small slit, Harry instantly recognized Fenrir Greyback's identity through those eyes full of malice and the sound of his beastly breathing.

He chuckled lowly.

Harry's breathing rate didn't even change, looking back emotionlessly.

Not far away came a scathing female voice belonging to Bella—Harry guessed that she was outside the narrow alley, and Bella would not want to walk into this dirty dead end—shouted sharply, "What are you dawdling in here for? Smell Phoenix? Or is his body here?"

Bella sounded very dissatisfied, and Fenrir's yellow eyeballs immediately moved to her direction, and he had to answer, albeit reluctantly, to the de facto leader of the operation, "No, I didn't find him." corpse, but—”

Before he finished the following sentence, Bella sneered mockingly, "You can't even find a seriously injured person? So, you want to roll around in the garbage dump like a dog? You shouldn't choose this kind of place. time, disgusting scavenger."

Fenrir paused.

He gritted his teeth and gave a distorted smile, "──But, it seems that our poor little Phoenix is ​​not here."

"Useless werewolf." Bella sneered mercilessly.

Harry couldn't hear the rest of the conversation clearly, and only vaguely caught words like 'humble dark creature'.The pure blood witch seemed very dissatisfied with the Lord's arrangement of werewolves to join her mission, Sirius was rescued, but failed to kill Phoenix completely ignited her anger, she cursed angrily and strode away angrily.

Fenrir's breathing was already very unstable, and a low-pitched howl that represented an attack signal rolled from his throat, but his sharp and fierce eyes only fixed on Bella's figure, and he slammed heavily on the trash can lid to vent his anger. After pressing it tightly, he followed and left without looking at the trash can.

Harry, who was tensely wary of the two colleagues teaming up, finally heaved a sigh of relief, and secretly thanked Bellatrix for his poor popularity and the discrepancy with Fenrir.If Fenrir hadn't turned against Bella, he would have been caught by the ill-intentioned Bella just now.

The black-haired young man moved his limbs that were numb due to his posture, and was scratched by a sharp object while moving, and a gash was cut on the back of his hand immediately. The wound was itchy and hot, and he didn't know what it was in the darkness stuff. Harry reluctantly put his wand back in his arms and drew his hand away, trying to push open the lid of the box and leave.

He couldn't push it away. Harry was stunned for a moment, thinking that maybe because of Fenrir's smash just now, the lid of the box was tightly sealed. He let go of the other hand that was pressing the wound on the side, and groped for upward force, but it still couldn't be pushed open.

Harry arched his shoulders and pushed hard, tried several spells including Arahor hole opening and even fluorescent flashing, but nothing happened, and when the lid of the box was still untouched, he clearly recognized that Fenri Although Er didn't want to help Bella, he also didn't intend to make him feel better! Harry tried to Apparate riskily in this situation, only to find helplessly that the Order of the Phoenix's anti-apparition settings were still in place.

In the pitch-black darkness, every inch of skin that touched the sour and smelly liquid in the garbage bin was itchy, the wounds could not be treated effectively, and the excessive blood loss made Harry's fingertips feel cold and his head feel hot.

Even for Harry's size, the bin was narrow and small.In the seamless space that was cast with some kind of spell, the air froze and stood still.

There was only the sound of Harry's gradually heavy breathing remaining in the silence.

'Well, at least he didn't just give me an Avada. '

Harry thought about the solution, but his eyes were fixed on the position of the lid and the opening of the dustbin vaguely in the darkness.

Those green eyes were still calm and calm, only the extremely deep place in the eyes that even the owner didn't notice, in the narrow and closed environment that was so damn familiar, there was almost invisible panic flashing.

A strange feeling of unease came over Blaise.

There was no reason for this premonition, and it was disconcerting, and Blaise couldn't find himself stopping to patrol the Potions classroom, unconsciously frowning and thinking, listing the possible reasons for this premonition.

Before he could think about it, the panicked shouts brought him back to his sanity, and when he turned around, he saw a cauldron emitting thick white smoke, and the boiling potion was gurgling.Recently, Blaise has been very proficient in cleaning up and using the Obstacle spell, but when he found some little witches beside the cauldron, he sighed impatiently in his heart, without even pulling out his wand, and walked slowly up forward.

The Gryffindor girls gathered around the smoking potion, flushed with calculated panic as they watched the charming young professor approaching them.

"Professor—" one of the long-haired girls shouted.

"I'm not a professor," Blaise replied nonchalantly. "So, what's going on here?"

"I'm sorry, I think I screwed up again...Maybe something was too fast...I mean, I just can't get my timing right."

The girl lowered her head in frustration, and after a while of fuss, she successfully cooled down the pot of potion.

"I need to say that your timing is obviously very good-I believe your potion level is very good."

"Really? Am I good?" the Lion House girl asked boldly and slyly, blushing at Blaise.

"Potions," Blaise said.

The long-haired girl's potion skills improved by leaps and bounds in the second half of the school year, and this was the eighth time she'd accurately created a 'failure potion' that was huge but not dangerously fried, and Blaise didn't even bother to remember her last name .

Seeing that the long companion successfully chatted with Professor Proth again and received compliments from the other party, the other girls who had obviously contributed to this "crisis" stopped pretending to turn over the "Advanced Potion" seriously, focused and eager He rummaged through a bunch of stupid questions, chattering around Blaise.

Blaise played with the green crystal pendant on his chest, and answered questions related to potions with a cold tone and indifference.

He hid the boredom in his heart perfectly, and even performed better than most nobles──Obviously, otherwise, why would those girls be so ignorant, yelling at him in similar ways every time, asking him some questions? question of meaning.

Blaise couldn't help but question his old taste.Maybe he did enjoy these meaningless crowds before the age of 14, but now the girls' jealousy only makes him noisy and annoying.

Slughorn was originally answering various detailed questions for Hermione Granger, and when Blaise saw the Gryffindor witch finish the question with satisfaction, he immediately stopped the authentic Potions professor and passed the questions of these 'study' girls to To Slughorn.

Naturally, the girls from the Lion House lacked interest and asked some basic questions casually. After thanking them, they dispersed.

Slughorn wasn't offended either, he had gotten used to the situation for months, and chuckled nonchalantly.

Blaise sensed a hint of jealousy from the other side, but Slughorn seemed more interested in fighting for a friendly relationship with Proth, an aristocratic wizard with a mysterious background, than fighting for face with the teaching assistant over such a trivial matter.

He patted Blaise on the shoulder with a teasing smile, "It's very popular with little girls, Proth, have you considered accepting it?"

"No." Blaise replied emphatically.

The young assistant's answer was too decisive, and Slughorn couldn't help being stunned for a moment, before blinking his eyes and returning to a full smile.

"Anyway—maybe it's a little weird to me—they're both in sixth grade. Graduating in a year, and you're not even their professor...in terms of relationships." He looked at Blaise and said with great interest, "You are still young...the journey of life is full of accidents, maybe you are willing to stop for one flower now, but who knows if the next one will be more suitable?..."

"Sorry, Professor, I've got a family," Blaise replied without thinking, with a sigh.

--although he has not yet succeeded, and the obtuse exaggeration of the object.

"Of course, of course—you always say that," Slughorn joked. "I think the relationship between you is unquestionable, standing firm, comparable to Hogwarts Castle──"

They didn't deliberately lower the volume, and the girls in the classroom who were secretly watching Proth's assistant naturally looked up when they heard his answer.

When the word "family" was mentioned, the alienated and indifferent purple eyes were helpless and gentle, and the chuckle that was unintentionally raised on the face was deeply affectionate and sexy, and the girls exclaimed and made hearts.

"However, I must say...no offense intended...you don't seem to have much interest in teaching. The salary of a teaching position is nothing, if it's not for the girls or to meet more potential talents, why are you here? Where's Gwartz?" Slughorn asked curiously.

"Of course I have a reason for that…" Blaise replied simply, brushing the question off.

Meanwhile, Potter, who was also in the classroom, almost jumped up from his seat, glaring at Blaise angrily.

Ever since Blaise revealed to him the intimate relationship between him and Harry, Potter was puzzled but still accepted the shocking news. Seeing that Harry hadn't heard from him since Christmas last year, his whereabouts were unknown, and Blaise Zabini, who disappeared together, hung up on him. Returning to Hogwarts under the pseudonym of Proth, he bluffed and lingered in the flowers in a grand manner; every potions class was like a draft, and almost all the girls, regardless of the house, dressed up in costumes, just to win the favor of Proth's assistant teacher.

And just now, Blaise Zabini, even before Slughorn took over, was chatting with the girls with a calm expression—it's fine if Zabini refused to disclose Harry's situation, out of confidentiality, Potter can forgive; What is the attitude?Just for fun? !

Thinking of this, Potter gritted his teeth and held up his hands, "Assistant Proth, I have a question to ask."

Seeing Potter raised his hand, Blaise nodded slightly, "Potter? I happen to have something to ask you, please stay after class."

Potter nodded heavily, as if thinking of something, he quickly lowered his head and opened the old potions textbook with yellowed curly hair on the table, and carefully reviewed the magic spell that the Half-Blood Prince left behind, he thought angrily, lest he need to use it later superior.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were waiting outside the classroom door, and the golden trio of Gryffindor had all attended Potions after Slughorn relaxed the conditions.Dry waited for quite a while before waiting for Potter, who was left alone with the Proth assistant to discuss potions.

"Dude, what are you asking? I've never wondered so much about potions," Ron sighed.

Potter immediately frowned, his face full of displeasure, "It was just discussing some... common issues, you know," he replied, and then muttered under his breath, "Like cheating, flirting or something..."

Ron shrugged, he couldn't hear what Potter said at the end, but he didn't press, "Whatever it is, it's really long enough, you discussed it for ten minutes."

"What?" Potter replied in bewilderment, reaching out to wipe the air, startled by how much time had passed, "but I just said a few words."

Hermione tilted her head, with a curious look on her face, "Harry, you discuss issues with Proth's teaching assistant every time after class, and it seems that it's very easy to lose track of time... May I ask what you all said?"

Potter hesitated. "Nothing, it's just that I thought he'd pay attention to—er, details, and he promised to... just a few words, I think."

"Ten minutes, you just said these few words? The timing is not right..." Hermione frowned puzzled, and hesitated to speak.

"Uh... You said, Sirius missed Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning, what did he do? Could it be...?"

The little savior coughed a few times with a guilty conscience, and quickly changed the subject.

Even if he really can't remember what he said, he doesn't know how to explain to his best friend how irritating and out-of-control yelling can be easily caused by such weird topics.

"Never mind that, Merlin, I'm starving to death."

Ron wailed, and the group put aside the question and quickened their pace, heading towards the auditorium.