HP Approaches the Magical World

"Anyway," said Hermione nonchalantly, buried in her letter again, "you'll have plenty of opportunities to ask her out..."

"What if he doesn't want to ask her out?" Ron kept staring at Harry with an unusual shrewdness on his face.

"Don't be stupid,"

Hermione said vaguely, "Harry already liked her, didn't he, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer.

"Who are you writing the novel for?" Ron asked Hermione, reaching for the parchment that had fallen to the floor, and Hermione dragged it up.

"Victor."

"Krum?"

"How many Viktors do we know?"

Ron didn't speak, but looked odd. They sat in silence for another twenty minutes, Ron finishing his Transfiguration paper with impatient grunts and daubs; Hermione writing calmly to the end of the parchment, carefully rolling it up and sealing it; Harry stared at the fire, wishing desperately that Sirius' head would appear and give him some advice about girls. But the fire just crackled and burned lower and lower until the red-hot embers were reduced to ash. Harry looked around to see that the three of them were alone in the room again.

"Okay, good night," said Hermione, yawning, and heading up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

"What does she see in Krum?" Ron asked as they went upstairs together.

"Well," said Harry thoughtfully, "I think he's older...and an international star..."

"But other than that," Ron seemed annoyed, "I said, isn't he just a cranky jerk?"

"It's kind of grumpy," said Harry, still thinking about Cho.

In silence they took off their robes and put on their pajamas.

Dean, Seamus and Neville were all asleep.

Harry put his glasses on the bedside table and got under the covers, but instead of drawing the curtains, he stared at the starry sky outside the window by Neville's bed.

If he had known at this time last night, twenty-four hours later he would have kissed Cho Chang...

"Good night."

Ron said to his right.

"Good night."

He starts to sleep.

...

Tonight, Harry felt his body soft, strong and flexible, sliding between the shiny metal bars, over the dark, cold stone... he was sliding on his belly, flat against the ground... the light was dim, But he could see the light of objects around him, some strange, vivid colors... He turned his head... At first glance, the corridor was empty... No... There was a man sitting on the ground with his head hanging on his chest, His silhouette flickered in the gloom.

Harry stuck out his tongue...he tasted the man's scent...he was alive but dozing...sitting in front of the door at the end of the corridor...

Harry longed to bite the man...but he had to resist the urge...there were more important things to do...

But the man woke up... jumped up, a silver cloak slipped from his legs, and Harry saw his bright, blurry silhouette looming before him, a wand drawn from his belt... he had no choice... …he straightened up, struck once, twice, three times, and dug his fangs deep into the man's skin, feeling ribs crack between his teeth, hot blood...

The man screamed in pain...then fell silent...collapsed at the foot of the wall...blood spattered on the ground...

His forehead hurt like hell... as if it was going to explode...

"Harry! Harry!"

He opened his eyes, his body was drenched in cold sweat, the sheets were wrapped around him like a tights, and he felt like a pair of hot pokers had been inserted into his forehead.

"Harry!"

Standing in front of the bed, Ron seemed to be terrified. There were several figures at the foot of the bed. He held his head tightly, his eyes were black with pain... He rolled to the side of the bed and vomited.

"He's really sick," said a frightened voice, "do you want to call someone?"

"Harry! Harry!"

Breathing heavily, Harry pulled himself up from the bed, ordering himself not to throw up, his vision blurred with pain.

"Your father," he said out of breath, his chest heaving, "your father... something happened..."

"What?" Ron didn't understand.

"Your dad! He was bitten, badly, with blood everywhere."

"I'm going to call someone."

said the terrified voice, Harry heard footsteps running out of the dormitory.

"Harry, buddy," Ron said dubiously, "you... you're just dreaming."

"No!" said Harry furiously, making sure Ron understood, "It's not a dream! It's not a dream! I was there, I saw it."

He heard Seamus and Dean muttering, but he couldn't care less.

The severe pain on his forehead subsided slightly, but he was still sweating and shivering like he had a high fever.

He threw up again, and Ron jumped back. "Harry, you're ill," he said uneasily, "Neville has gone to find someone..."

"I'm fine!" Harry choked, wiped his mouth with his pajamas, and shivered uncontrollably, "I'm not sick, it's your dad who should be worried, we need to find out where he is, he's bleeding profusely—that's a Serpent."

He tried to get out of bed, but Ron pushed him back.

After a minute or ten, Harry sat there shivering, feeling the pain from his scar slowly subside, and heard the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs, and heard Neville's voice again.

"This way, Professor."

Professor McGonagall hurried into the dormitory in a tartan dressing gown, spectacles perverted on the bridge of his thin nose.

"What's the matter, Potter? Where does it hurt?"

He'd never been happier to see her, and he needed members of the Order of the Phoenix right now, not people nervously prescribing him potions that didn't work.

"It's Ron's father," he said, sitting up again. "He's been bitten by a snake, very badly, I saw it."

"What, what did you see?" Professor McGonagall frowned.

"I don't know... I was sleeping and then I got there..."

"You mean you dreamed it?"

"no!"

Harry said irritably: "I had a completely different dream first, something stupid... Then this one came in, it was real, not my fantasy, Mr. Weasley was sleeping on the ground and was bitten by a big snake , a lot of blood, he fell, had to find out where he was."

Professor McGonagall looked at him through his askew spectacles as if seeing something horrible.

"I'm not lying, and I'm not crazy!" Harry cried. "I'm telling you, I saw it with my own eyes!"

"I believe you." Professor McGonagall said simply, "Put on your shirt... let's go see the principal"

"Weasley, you should come too."

A few minutes later, they arrived at the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

The matter itself was not particularly serious, and Dumbledore was clear about what Mr. Weasley was doing now, but after listening to Harry's narration, he couldn't help but feel a little puzzled.

During the recent period, he was not in charge of the Order of the Phoenix, and Jon was making the arrangements there.

We can only let people give a warning first.

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