Harry Potter: I Am a Legend

Dumbledore saw the boy coming around the corner and said in surprise: "Bach?"

"Good evening, professor," Hoffa said.

"You won't go back so late? It's curfew now."

Dumbledore was not angry, but asked with a frown.

"Something happened, I must tell you."

"what is the matter."

"I have three roommates..."

"Wait a minute, go to the office and talk."

Dumbledore looked around and interrupted Hoffa: "It just so happens that I have something to ask you."

Hoffa was taken aback and nodded.

"Great."

Dumbledore walked in front and Hoffa walked behind. They didn't speak all the way, but Hoffa felt a sense of ease that had been missing for a long time. Like a water-scarce traveler who has been walking in the desert for a long time, he has encountered a lush oasis.

The two arrived at the office on the third floor one after the other.

Dumbledore's office is not much different from the past. Several wooden cabinets, mahogany desks, and some shiny silverware are placed on the table, slowly rotating. The phoenix named Fox stood on a tall gilded perch. Seeing Hoffa coming, it straightened up happily and whispered at him.

Hoffa sat in the chair himself and said hello to Fox.

Dumbledore waved his magic wand, and the fireplace lit up a roaring flame. The whole room suddenly became warm.

In the light of the fire, Dumbledore's usual tall body looked a little hunch now. Probably because the long journey consumed a lot of his mind, he walked to the cabinet and took out an amber glass wine bottle. Open it and pour it lightly into two cups.

For some reason, this action reminded Hoffa of Jacob Bohan, the transformation teacher.

While pouring the wine, he asked: "I heard that now you have a considerable influence among ordinary students."

Hoffa nodded and said softly:

"That's it."

"I'm very relieved that you are willing to take responsibility."

Dumbledore came to Hoffa with two wine glasses, and put one in front of Hoffa.

"Thank you."

Hoffa picked up the cup and took a sip.

Dumbledore leaned deeply in the chair, his joints clicking.

"However, the feedback from other deans recently shows that the students have been very impetuous recently and have not had the energy to study seriously."

"Ok......"

Hoffa put down the cup, "It seems like this."

"What the **** is going on?" Dumbledore asked intersecting his fingers.

"What?" Hoffa didn't understand.

"I said, the school is turbulent now, that's why."

Hoffa didn't know why Dumbledore wanted to ask himself this question. Isn't the student's impetuosity caused by the environment? What does it have to do with him?

"I don't know." He said honestly, "Maybe the pressure is too great. There is a war outside, and the schoolwork is very heavy every day..."

"Hoffa."

Dumbledore interrupted him, "You didn't take care of them."

Silence enveloped the office, and Hoffa looked at Dumbledore's blue eyes, not knowing what to say for a moment.

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his temples: "Hoffa, you are no longer an ordinary student."

Hoffa: "I don't think."

"You have to think so."

Dumbledore said categorically, he straightened up and crossed his fingers:

"Listen, Bach, the outside is eyeing the school, as the only magical college in the UK. At this time, you should share my worries for me."

"I....."

"Why not try to be an example for them?"

"I......"

"Hoffa, this is your responsibility. You should be stronger."

Dumbledore's repeated strong speeches made Hoffa's spirit a little dazed, and he even heard a hint of disdain from the bottom of his heart. He shook his head vigorously, and the hallucinations disappeared.

"what's happenin?"

Dumbledore frowned and looked at Hoffa.

Hoffa took a few breaths, calmed down and opened his eyes.

"Yes...Can you not talk about this first?"

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I still have some personal questions to ask, Professor."

Dumbledore picked up the wine glass on the table and took a sip.

"Do you have any personal questions."

"I....."

Hoffa raised his head, trance again.

Although for the past six months, Hoffa has been eager to see Dumbledore and wanted to talk to him in private. But when it came time to speak, Hoffa found it a little difficult, not only difficult to describe, but also ashamed to speak out.

"Go ahead, Bach."

Dumbledore crossed his fingers: "I'm listening."

"Professor, I... I am in pain."

Hoffa said with some difficulty.

"Why is it painful?" Dumbledore asked.

"I feel, I seem to have a mental problem."

Hoffa hesitated.

"There is a mental problem?" Dumbledore was dumb. "How old are you."

"Yes, I can't stop having nightmares. There is a weird guy in the dream, and I can always see a lot of colorful faces and hear sounds that I shouldn't hear."

"Weird guy? Colorful face, strange voice?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened, and the expression on his face was a little confused.

Hoffa nodded: "Also, I...I am not very interested in what my friends do. And the daily work of the school, I think, it's a bit too mechanical."

Dumbledore frowned and thought: "Other people let you say it, or your own point of view."

"My own opinion."

Dumbledore looked at Hoffa for a moment with his X-ray-like eyes: "When did it start?"

"Just this year."

"What dream do you do?"

"Fell from upstairs."

Dumbledore was taken aback, and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Then what did you hear?"

"I don't know, I can't remember."

"Just dreaming?"

"Maybe, I don't know too much."

Dumbledore sighed and moved the cup beside him.

"I also dream that the wizard is still a human being and will be disturbed by the subconscious mind. I also dreamed that someone gave me a pile of woolen socks last night. However, I would make myself busy, so busy to forget these things.

Hoffa raised his head in amazement, this was not the answer he wanted to hear.

Dumbledore sighed again: "The school has no way at this time. After the past few years, it should be much better."

After a pause, he said, "Hoffa, work hard."

It seems to have crossed an invisible watershed. A string cracked in the chest.

Dumbledore was close at hand, but he seemed to be far, far away. Obviously Hoffa could see the stains on his auburn beard, but he was once again wrapped in strangeness.

Work hard...

Not hard enough...

Am I not working hard enough...

Dumbledore stood up and patted Hoffa on the shoulder: "It's okay, don't think too much, go back and have a good rest."

Hoffa looked at the palm of his shoulder, then at the blue eyes under Dumbledore's glasses. His excitement and energy were quickly taken away by the black hole, and he felt disappointed.

"Tathagata, I understand."

He finished speaking softly, stood up, turned around, with a cold face, like a walking piece of frozen beef, without the slightest sensation.

"Wait a minute, Bach."

Dumbledore stopped him.

"what's happenin?"

Holding the doorknob, Hoffa tilted his head slightly.

"What did you say about the three roommates in the first place?"

Hoffa looked at Dumbledore for a while.

"Nothing, good night, professor."

After all, he left Dumbledore's office.

......

......

He had forgotten how he returned to the Ravenclaw Tower that night.

He only remembered a sleepless night when all his roommates were missing. Sitting alone in the room, the cold wind outside the window blew the curtains and danced constantly.

The deserted crescent moon hung high in the sky, and some mottled conversation fragments flashed through Hoffa's mind.

think too much....

Not hard enough....

The rift between ideal and reality widened again. He closed his eyes, and the curtains were stroked across his face, just like a massage.

The depth of thinking gradually emerged, as if God had split a Mariana Trench in his mind, separating the ocean of rationality and sensibility.

He began to understand some incomprehensible things gradually, and began to understand the limitations of wizards, the limitations of human beings.

Everyone in this world is paying attention to their own affairs, fame, honor, resources, society, and schools, even if they are as wise as Dumbledore.

Human consciousness is originally a kind of accident in evolution. Without consciousness, life will continue to exist only by relying on instinct. Excessive observation and thinking does not help existence itself.

He shouldn't be like this. A salmon won't want other salmon to know how it feels because it makes no sense.

He should show positive energy, show high value, show omnipotence, show the attitude of a community leader.

He should be like William, manipulating the secretion of other people's hormones and dopamine, enjoying the joy of youth, enjoying the opportunities God has given him, and enjoying his position at Hogwarts.

He only needs to make a lot of money, defeat many, many opponents, look for a mate to lay eggs like a salmon, copy the DNA, and then die calmly.

But why do you want to think so much.

Why is life more and more painful.

Why does all this make him so tired.

He didn't know, he hated himself like this.

The next day, Christmas Eve.

He walked out of the dormitory and decided to eat something to stay alive.

The gorgeously decorated hall was unexpectedly deserted, and there were very few people in the supposedly lively hall. Among them, only students in twos and threes got together and looked around nervously.

There was no one on the staff seat.

Seeing Hoffa coming, the small group of students quickly surrounded them as if they found the backbone.

"Bach, where have you been?"

Some students said in shock.

"Our friends are missing."

This news probably surprised Hoffa by 0.1S, and then he sat at the table in relief and added a bowl of pumpkin porridge for himself. There is no fluctuation in his heart, and if the Ministry of Magic comes to close Hogwarts now, he does not expect to struggle.

Someone scratched their heads in a hurry: "They were still playing chess in the common room, but for some reason, they disappeared."

"I heard someone singing, and after listening, the people in my dormitory are gone..."

"I saw a group of animals queuing up from the corridor last night, looking at..."

"To shut up."

Hoffa interrupted them coldly.

"I eat."

His indifference stunned the other students. They were anxious and began to persuade them.

"Why are you doing this?"

"They are your friends, so please help out."

"Yes, Bach, stop kidding."

"Hurry up and help us find them."

"You are so good, you can do it with your hands."

Hoffa sat motionless in the position, not moving at all. The whole person exudes an aura that no one should come near. After a long time, the whispering persuasion subsided.

The crowd around him gradually dispersed, step by step away from him.

After the expectation was shattered, it was replaced by unspeakable disappointment, and no one stepped forward to ask what happened to Hoffa. Some have only disappointed eyes that are as sharp as a blade.

This disappointment spread through the school like a plague.

After eating breakfast, he left the hall.

Everyone who met him took the initiative to avoid him.

He was floating in the school, his energy in his body dropped to the bottom.

To be honest, he has no idea where to go now, he feels like a twenty-first century machine.

At this time, he thought of the responsive room on the eighth floor. He wanted to find a place where he could hide things and hide himself.

Walking to the tapestry on the eighth floor, the giant monster in the tapestry was holding a stick and dancing ballet, looking stupid.

He stands still, time and space rotate.

He overlaps with the teenager with glasses standing here fifty years later.

At this moment, he really felt the difference between himself and Harry, which was the most essential difference between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

The lion is a social animal, and he will never be. The ego in the eagle's bones makes it difficult for him to move in this school.

He didn't even turn three times, the strong desire to hide caused the smooth door to appear, and he opened the door of the responsive house.

The mottled beam of light illuminates the hills of rubbish-like hills, and snowflakes float in from the high windows and fall on the tops of the old things piled up like mountains, forming white spots.

But Hoffa's sight did not stay on those forbidden objects accumulated for thousands of years.

Because in the room responsive to requests, a pair of maroon eyes were looking at him without blinking.

It's the cat with black and white face.

It was sitting on top of the rusty armor guard this time, as if it had been waiting for Hoffa, and meowed slightly.