Harriet Potter

As if in an endless space, countless pipes criss-cross, sound and pictures flow in it, and shadows spread from a certain point in the void. Every time I try to pierce the wall of the pipe, I struggle to keep up with and push them away.In my head, I knew that this seemingly endless process was only a moment in reality, but I had no time to marvel at it.The shadows continued to elongate and split, their touch became more and more swift and irregular, and finally there was a path that bypassed my slow obstruction and pulled out a picture from somewhere.I almost breathed a sigh of relief as the picture quickly zoomed in, and then I found myself under the sunny dome of the Great Hall, with a small group of people at the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables each wearing the colors of their house, and students from each house wearing their own house colors. Wearing the scarf of his department and holding the flag of the department.

Of course, Snape would definitely want to find out about this.

Seeing me quickly put a small bottle back into my pocket, the whole scene seemed to shrink for a moment. I looked at another uninvited guest. Snape stared at the people at the table with a sullen face. At this time, Hermione had already jumped Ron got up and accused me of dishonesty, and Ron drank his own pumpkin juice against her objection.Apparently Snape did something just now so that I couldn't expel him from this memory, although I didn't intend to.

The whole game that follows is the part I am willing to review, even though this section is just a quick flash, like a movie that has been fast-forwarded dozens of times.Dali often did this. He never only watched scenes about beautiful women and fists and guns, and then he kept complaining that those unexpected developments were "unreasonable" and "a mess of garbage", completely unaware that he was fast forwarding. Missed the previous plot.Good thing I know what's going on: Gryffindor wins big.Including Malfoy, neither of Slytherin's best players showed up in that game, and Ron played extremely well, and the opponent only had a chance to score two goals until I caught the Snitch.

The picture paused awkwardly as I entered the locker room and became foggy.The next scene is me and Ron walking out to the field in school robes, and then Hermione strode us all into the men's locker room and started yelling at me.

"You mixed Ron's pumpkin juice with a potion of luck at breakfast! Felicia!"

"No, I didn't." I watched myself turn to face them both, a little in awe of my composure, even though I knew what was going to happen wasn't going to go my way.

"You just messed up, Harry, that's why everything went so well. No matter how Slytherin missed the shot, Ron saved every ball!"

"I didn't mix it in!" I took out the vial, which was full of golden liquid, the stopper still sealed with wax. "I wanted Ron to think I was taking the potion, so, knowing you were watching, I pretended to." I looked at Ron again. "You can save every ball because you feel lucky. You do it by your own ability."

"Is there really nothing in my pumpkin juice?" Ron was shocked. "But the weather is so good... Vasai can't come to the competition... You really didn't give me the lucky potion?"

I shook my head and smiled.Ron froze for a moment, then turned sharply to Hermione and said in imitation of her voice, "You put Felix in Ron's pumpkin juice this morning, that's why he saved so many balls! See! I don't need Help saves the ball, Hermione!"

"I never said you couldn't—Ron, you thought you drank the potion yourself!"

But Ron had already carried the broom and swaggered out of the dressing room beside Hermione.

I flickered off the ground, spun up in the void, and fell into the dark basement again.The pungent smell of the potion poured into my nostrils, making me dizzy and nauseous.Snape's voice was buzzing in my ears, probably some scathing comment about "Gryffindor strategy" or something, mixed with the remaining shouts in my head, I didn't care if I missed a few words His crap.Since I started getting the hang of shutting down my brain, each session with him has gotten more exhausting, even leaving me groggy and unresponsive all Saturday.I have no doubt that he did it on purpose, especially the time before the game, when I was at least two seconds late the next morning before I realized I was going to charge the Snitch.If I hadn't been quick-witted and yelled at their substitute Seeker, "How much did Malfoy spend for you to play for him", causing him to miss the Snitch in a daze, the result of the game would have been different from what it is now It's different.

Snape fell silent, so I wiped the cold sweat from my brow and raised my head, preparing my aching head for the next invasion.As soon as I walked through the door tonight he couldn't wait to announce that this was the last class before the Christmas break and that I could make it through without injury.

"So, you've learned that rebellion is much more difficult than compliance." Snape stared at me vaguely through his greasy hair.

This is really a wise saying. "It couldn't be more clear."

"And I noticed you chose the latter," Snape's voice became smooth and mocking again, "after I entered that memory. If it weren't for your inflated ego to want to spread your cleverness to Everyone, I can only assume you took the easier way. I wouldn't be surprised you took either, since your father—"

"No," I was fed up, "you can go on with your petty jealousy and revenge, I don't care. But don't ever bring my father's name into it again." I stared at him, "I don't care what he did , who faced Voldemort head-on until the very last moment. And whoever chose the 'easier way', as far as I know, I have one in front of me, sir."

Snape didn't even order me not to say Voldemort's name, he narrowed his eyes, "Of course, you'd be proud of it. You're all the same—"

"How many innocents died because of you?" I said desperately, "before you left the 'easier way,' sir?"

I crossed the line, and Snape's wand was pointed between my eyes, and I refrained myself from looking at it.Snape's wand-clutching knuckles turned white, and his face turned the color of bad milk.

"Interrupt me one more time like you did just now," he said after a moment. "Having your brain hacked by the Dark Lord will be the last thing you need to worry about, Potter."

I said nothing.

"One more time. We'll know if you're talking big."

"Yes, sir." I had already proficiently pronounced the last syllable sharply and sarcasticly, and Snape made his move before finishing speaking.

"Legislasia!"

Snape never bluffs, and his next intrusion is so vicious if not violent, that the frame freezes before I even know it.It’s about the childhood memories of Dali’s group. When I was 7 years old, they broke my glasses and claimed to put the shards in my eyes. Surrounded by all kinds of intimidation for about half an hour, I jumped on the eaves for no reason. .After that, I didn't wear glasses anymore, even if I often squinted my eyes in class, I couldn't see what was written on the blackboard.McGonagall gave me a pair of round eyes when I joined the team in my first year, along with my first broomstick. I only use the former in training and competition, because Seekers need the best eyesight.

I resisted that image from taking over my mind's full field of vision.I sensed the shadowy entity when seven-year-old Harriet uttered her first sob, immediately grasped it with imaginary hands, and sank into it.Again, the darkness turned into flowing sound and images, and I felt the shadows chasing after me immediately, so I ran between the images without knowing what to do, trying to avoid them.

I froze when Voldemort's ghastly snake face flashed, and was immediately thrown into the scene.This is not a long time ago memory, they are in a luxurious hall, exquisite carvings spread from the beams to the ceiling, the fireplace crackling flames, Voldemort sitting leisurely on the throne in front of the hearth and Snape kneeling in front of him.It's not something I'm supposed to know, but I haven't learned how to exit a memory, maybe go straight through the surrounding walls...?

"...not your task, Severus," Voldemort hissed.

The scene spun violently, and for a moment I thought I'd been kicked out of Snape's head, but then I realized that most of the things in front of me were new, and there weren't that many jars and dust on the shelves.

The door of the office opened quietly, and Snape in a black robe walked in, his indifferent gaze passed through me, he looked to be in his twenties at most, young and old.Snape drew his wand, and the door closed behind him.

"Close your ears and listen," he said, and I almost jumped for it.

The next second I literally jumped, because Snape dropped his wand without warning, grabbed a chair and smashed it against the shelf in front of him.Deafening crashes and cracks filled the room, and I watched in dumbstruck as Snape demolished everything around me, subconsciously dodging the flying debris, but two still passed through my chest and slammed into the wall.Even more shocking than that was the torrent of emotion, and I was almost instantly overwhelmed, slammed onto a shelf that wasn't completely destroyed, and some kind of liquid was all over me, boiling hot on contact with my skin .I screamed, trying to get Snape out of my head.

"Whirlwind clean!"

The burning was gone, and I was in Snape's office, the older Snape pointing his wand at me, panting not much better than me.I leaned crookedly against a shelf, and there were shards of glass and porcelain in front of me. It seemed that I had broken at least seven or eight jars just now.

I straightened up with difficulty, stepping away from the shelf, feeling sure I had bruises on my back and elbows.Snape started to clean up the mess. He used a silent spell, so for a long time, apart from my own breathing, I could only hear the slight sound of debris colliding and gathering.And when Snape finally turned around, I could swear the loathing and hatred on his face had never been more intense.I was close to apologizing, but immediately realized that I had no reason to do so.

"That," Snape seemed to be trying to squeeze the words out of his teeth, "is an improvement."

If he was going to curse me, anything I said next would only prompt him to do it, but the silence was too much for me to bear.

"In that memory I felt..."sadness, regret, despair, self-hatred, "emotion."

"Since others can attack you with your own emotions when they're deep enough in your brain, it's obviously entirely common sense that the opposite holds true." Snape had a knack for making every word tinge with malice , "This is the content of the next stage. In the face of irresistible force, choose a strong memory to replace the one you want to keep secret. Based on previous experience, I suggest you choose the Ministry of Magic."

Just hearing him bring up the memory made me want to poke my wand into his eyes, and I took a deep breath, "You said I had to block out emotionally intense memories, sir."

"Weapons can be wielded by anyone," said Snape contemptuously. "To someone capable enough, of course."

I kept my mouth shut, convinced it was Snape's excuse for wanting me to suffer more from that memory.

"That's all for this lesson."

I put away my wand and left the office.The bitter cold wind of early winter swept across the forbidden forest and the grounds, and the howling sound echoed in my ears from the second floor until I climbed into the portrait cave and shut everything out.There were only a few people in the common room who were yawning and doing their homework, not including Ron or Hermione.I suddenly feel lonely and tired, and I don't know if I'll be able to clear my mind as I lie in bed tonight.

The author has something to say: It seems that there should be a small theater in Snape's heart here.

"How many innocents died because of you? Before you left 'the easier way,' sir?"

You won't know.

You are looking at me through the eyes of the dead.