HP Approaches the Magical World

Speaking of which, the students were very anxious about choosing courses.

For example, the wizards and witches in Neville Longbottom's family wrote to him one after another, giving him many different suggestions on the issue of course selection.

This left Neville at a loss and nervous. He sat looking at the course list, tongue sticking out, asking if people thought Arithmancy sounded more difficult to learn than ancient runes.

Dean, like Harry, grew up around Muggles and didn't understand anything. Finally, he closed his eyes and used his wand to randomly click on the list, choosing whichever course he clicked on. .

Hermione, on the other hand, took no one's advice and signed off on all subjects.

Percy Weasley was eager to teach Harry by example.

"It depends on where you want to go, Harry."

He said, "It is necessary to plan for the future early, so I recommend divination to you.

People say it's stupid to choose Muggle studies, but I personally think that wizards should have a thorough understanding of non-magical society, especially if they want to work closely with Muggles - look at my father, he Must deal with Muggle affairs at all times.

My brother Charlie has always loved being outdoors, so he chose Care of Magical Creatures.

Play to your strengths, Harry. "

But Harry felt that the only thing he was really good at was Quidditch.

So in the end, he chose a few new subjects like Ron's, and he felt that if these subjects were difficult to learn, at least one person would be willing to help him kindly.

The fact that Gryffindor's next Quidditch match was against Hufflepuff confused Cedric a bit.

Because the students all showed the trend of actors, everyone wanted Gryffindor to win and be happy during training every day, but he still hoped that his players could practice well and play well.

After all... too much is too late.

Unlike Hufflepuff, Wood insisted that the players practice after dinner every day, so Harry had little time to do anything other than practice and do his homework.

However, training is getting easier, or at least less rainy.

On the night before Saturday's match, as he walked to the dormitory to set down his broomsticks, he felt that the Gryffindor team had never been more sure of winning the Quidditch Cup.

But his happy mood didn't last long. As soon as he came to the dormitory, he saw Neville Longbottom with a panicked face.

"Harry... I don't know who did it, I just found out..."

Neville looked at Harry in horror, and pushed open the door.

The contents of Harry's suitcase were thrown all over the place, his clothes lay crumpled on the floor, the sheets were ripped from his four-poster bed, and the drawers of the nightstand were pulled open to scatter their contents on the mattress.

Harry walked towards the bed with his mouth open, a few pages from "Walking with Trolls" under his feet.

Ron came in as he and Neville put the sheets back on the bed.

"What's the matter, Harry?"

"have no idea.

"

Harry shook his head, and Ron looked down at Harry's clothes, only to find that all the pockets were turned inside out.

"Someone's looking for something," said Ron. "Is there something missing?"

Harry started picking up his things and throwing them back into the trunk one by one.

It wasn't until he threw in Lockhart's last book that he realized what was missing.

"Riddle's diary is gone," he said to Ron in a low voice.

"What?"

Harry turned his head in the direction of the dormitory door, and Ron followed him out.

They hurried downstairs to the Gryffindor common room, where there was no one there - just Hermione sitting alone, reading a book called Ancient Runes for a Simple Introduction.

After hearing the news, she was stunned.

"But - only Gryffindors can steal - no one else knows our password..."

...

...

They awoke early the next morning to a clear, sunny day with a pleasant breeze blowing gently.

"The most ideal weather for a Quidditch match!"

At the Gryffindor table, Wood spoke enthusiastically, filling everyone's plate with scrambled eggs.

"Harry, cheer up, you need a good breakfast."

Harry kept looking at the crowded Gryffindor table, wondering if the new owner of Riddle's diary was right in front of him.

Hermione urged him to report the theft to the school, but Harry was unwilling to do so, because then he would have to explain the history of the diary to the teacher, and tell him how many people knew why Hagrid was expelled fifty years ago .

He didn't want to be the one to bring this up again.

As Harry, along with Ron and Hermione, left the Great Hall to pack up his competition items, a very heavy worry was added to his already disorganized mind.

Because just as he stepped onto the marble stairs, he suddenly heard that voice again: "This time I'm going to kill...let me tear...let me tear..."

He yelled, and Ron and Hermione jumped away from him in horror.

"That voice!" said Harry, looking over his shoulder, "I heard it again just now—did you hear it?"

Hermione patted her head: "I suddenly understood something, I'm going to the library!"

She hurried away and went upstairs.

"What did she understand?"

Harry said flusteredly, still looking around, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

"I don't know," said Ron, shaking his head.

"But why is she going to the library?"

"Because that's what Hermione does," said Ron, shrugging his shoulders. "When in doubt, go to the library."

Harry stood there hesitantly, trying to catch the sound again, but at that moment people were pouring out of the Great Hall, talking and laughing loudly behind him, making their way from the main entrance to the Quidditch pitch.

"You'd better hurry," said Ron, "it's almost eleven o'clock—the game."

Harry walked quickly to Gryffindor House, picked up his Nimbus 2000, and joined the hustle and bustle of people crossing the stadium, but his mind was still in the castle, chasing the disembodied voice.

As he changed into his bright red robes in the locker room, the only thing he thought about was that everyone was out watching the game now.

The players walked to the field amidst earth-shattering cheers. Oliver Wood soared into the air and flew around the goalposts for warm-up. Mrs. Hooch released the ball.

The Hufflepuffs, dressed in canary yellow, were gathering to discuss tactics at the last minute.

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