HP Approaches the Magic World

"What do you think might be in there?"

Luna asked eagerly as the walls began to move again.

"Nagging, no doubt."

Hermione whispered back, and Neville chuckled nervously.

The wall gradually stopped, and Harry pushed open a door next to it with some despair.

"That's it!"

When he saw the beautiful, diamond-like dancing light, he immediately recognized this room.

After his eyes gradually adapted to the bright and dazzling light here, he saw clearly that the dials of many clocks were shimmering.

They range in size from grandfather clocks to travel clocks, hanging between bookshelves or standing on tables as long as the entire length of a room.

Because of this, a rapid, never-ending ticking filled the house, like the sound of thousands of tiny footsteps.

The diamond-like bright jumping light came from a towering bell-shaped crystal glass dome at the end of the room.

"This way!"

Once he knew they were taking the right route, Harry's heart beat violently.

He walked ahead, following the narrow gap between the tables toward the light source, just as he had done in the dream.

This bell-shaped crystal glass cover was as tall as Harry and stood on a table. It seemed to be filled with a swirling, sparkling air current.

"Oh, look!"

As they approached, Ginny pointed to the center of the bell.

In the flickering light, a small egg as bright as a gem floated. When it rose in the glass cover, it cracked open, and a hummingbird emerged and rose straight to the top of the glass cover.

But as the air flow descends, the bird's feathers are stained and wet again, until it lands at the bottom of the glass cover and is shut into the egg again.

"Keep walking, don't stop!"

Harry snapped, because Ginny seemed eager to stop and watch the egg transform into a bird.

"You've had enough of the old arch!"

She retorted, but followed him anyway, past the bell-shaped crystal glass dome and towards the only door behind it.

"That's it."

Harry said again. His heart was beating so hard that he thought it must be affecting his speech. "It goes through here -"

He glanced around at the others. They had all taken out their wands, and they suddenly looked serious and urgent.

He turned back to stare at the door, pushed it, and the door opened.

They came inside and they finally found the place.

It was as high as a church, filled with tall shelves filled with dusty little glass balls, but nothing else.

More candlesticks were embedded on the shelves at certain intervals, and dim light shot out from above, just like those in the black round room, and the flames were blue.

Those small glass balls glow dimly in the light.

It was very cold inside the house... Harry walked forward slowly and looked down at a dark aisle between two rows of shelves. He could not hear a sound or feel any movement, not even the smallest movement.

"You said it was row ninety-seven." Hermione whispered next to him.

"Yes."

Harry responded softly, looking up towards the end of the nearest row. The candles glowed with blue flames, and silver numbers flashed under the brackets.

53.

"I think we should go to the right."

Hermione whispered, glancing sideways at the row next to her.

"By the way, this is 54."

"Everyone, get your wands ready."

They tiptoed along the long aisle between the shelves, looking back from time to time to glance behind them. It was almost pitch black in the distance.

There is a small yellow label attached to the shelf under each glass ball.

Some balls emit mysterious flowing light, while others are fuzzy and dark, like extinguished light bulbs.

They passed rows 84 and 85. Harry was trying to listen for the slightest sound, but he couldn't hear anything.

Maybe Sirius's mouth was gagged, or maybe he was unconscious... Or, a disgusting voice came into his mind: "Maybe he is dead..."

If that's the case, I can feel it, Harry reminded himself, his heart leaping into his throat.

"97!" Hermione whispered.

They stood together at one end of row 97, staring intently at the corridor next to the shelves. No one was there.

"He's right over there,"

Harry said, his mouth was already a little dry, "It's impossible to see clearly from here."

He led everyone through two rows of towering glass balls. As they passed, some of the glass gave off a faint light.

"He should be around here," Harry's voice was very low. He was convinced that every time he took a step forward, Sirius' ragged figure would appear on the dark floor. "Somewhere here... really

Very close..."

"Harry?" Hermione tried to call him, but he didn't want to answer. His mouth was already very dry.

"Here, somewhere."

They have reached the other end of the row of shelves, exposed to more dim candlelight, and there is no one here.

There were only echoes and dusty silence.

"He might be in..." Harry whispered hoarsely, staring at the aisle next to him.

"Or maybe..." He immediately looked down the next aisle.

"Harry?" Hermione called again.

"What?" He was a little impatient.

"I...I don't think Sirius is here."

No one said anything.

Harry didn't want to see any of them.

He felt very uncomfortable.

He didn't understand why Sirius wasn't here, when he should be here.

He quickly ran past the rows of shelves in one direction and looked along them.

Empty aisles passed him one after another.

His companions looked directly at him, and he turned around again, passed them, and ran in the opposite direction. There was no sign of Sirius anywhere, and no sign of a fight.

"Harry?"

"What?"

He didn't want to hear Ron talk; he didn't want to hear Ron tell him he was stupid, or suggest that they should go back to Hogwarts, but his face was getting hotter and hotter, as if he wanted to face the tall, bright

In front of the main hall and other reproachful eyes, I secretly hid in the darkness here for a while.

"Did you see this?" Ron said.

"What?"

Harry asked, his tone this time very urgent - there must be some trace or clue that Sirius had been here before.

The others were standing at the end of the shelf in row 97, a little further in. He strode up to them and found nothing. He just saw Ron looking at a dirty glass ball on the shelf.

"What?"

He asked again gloomily.

"This has your name on it."

Harry came closer, and Ron pointed at a small glass ball. It was dirty, as if it hadn't been touched for many years, but the shimmer inside made it shine.

"my name?"

Harry asked blankly.

He stepped forward, and since he was not as tall as Ron, he had to straighten his neck to look at the yellowed label under the glass ball on the shelf.

There is a date written about sixteen years ago in delicate fonts, followed by:

S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D.

The Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter

"What's this?"

Ron asked: "Why is your name on this?"