The days of hanging out at Hogwarts

Nine o'clock in the evening.

The funeral had ended with the turbulent eulogy.

"Aragog... Aragog..."

The sobbing and vague murmurs squeezed out of the half-giant's throat with a heavy nasal sound.

When the mud covered the last limb of Aragog exposed, Hagrid wailed in grief and then fell on the pile of dirt next to him.

"Hagrid!"

Hermione exclaimed, Loren and others rushed over and helped him into the house with difficulty, sitting him firmly on a chair. The hound Fang said nothing, walked over lightly, and put his head on the upper of his master's shoes.

Harry started to get busy after entering the door. He lit the fire with his hands and feet and put the kettle full of water on the stove. The warm firelight immediately dispelled the humid water vapor in the forest at night.

Loren glanced at the diligent Harry, and said to Slughorn who came in later: "Professor, the lights will be turned off soon. We can't all stay. We are worried about Harry taking care of Hagrid alone. Can you help take care of him?"

Harry gave him a grateful look.

"No problem!"

Slughorn answered cheerfully, his eyes unconsciously looking at the roof, where several sets of rare furs, several copper kettles made by centaurs, and several bundles of smooth and smooth unicorn hair were casually hung. With just a rough glance, his excellent vision and extraordinary insight quickly assessed the value of those things, at least several thousand galleons.

When Slughorn opened his eyes wide and looked at Hagrid again, he seemed to feel the huge gap in financial resources between the two sides, even greater than he expected.

He sold a batch of Felixir some time ago, and he is not short of galleons now, but the style of many precious materials being casually placed like this has created a sense of shock for the middle-class petty bourgeoisie to see the nouveau riche.

"Then we'll go back first." Loren took Hermione away.

Ron looked at Harry who was washing the cups, then at Slughorn, scratched his head, and finally turned around and went out.

The Forbidden Forest was gloomy at night, and there seemed to be many obscure eyes peeping behind the trees. Ron shivered in the cold wind, and felt a little panic in his heart. Thinking of the eight-eyed giant spider that had just been buried, the panic gradually escalated into fear. He hurriedly quickened his pace to catch up with the two friends who had left first.

But in just a minute or two, he could no longer see Loren and Hermione. The path leading to the castle hall was empty, and the dim candlelight was swaying in the night.

"Hiss..."

Ron took a breath of cold air and couldn't help but run.

After he ran a distance, Loren, who was picking pumpkins in the vegetable garden, turned out from behind the fence, blinked, looked at the figure who was running faster and faster, and asked the girl beside him: "Why is he running so fast?"

Looking at his hands full of mud, Hermione sighed, with a helpless expression.

…

One o'clock in the morning.

The portraits and ghosts of Hogwarts have fallen asleep, and the whole castle is quiet.

With the unintentional help of Hagrid, Harry got Slughorn drunk and successfully extracted information about the Horcrux from him, and then immediately returned to the castle to find Dumbledore.

The memory scene reflected in the Pensieve was very clear. At that time, Tom Riddle had already put on the Gaunt family ring, proving that he had murdered the Riddle family and framed Morfin Gaunt, officially becoming Voldemort...

Harry also knew that Voldemort planned to split the soul into seven pieces, and there should be six Horcruxes. The memory was real, and Slughorn did not deceive him, because Dumbledore took out another memory for comparison -

That memory was obtained last semester!

When Harry heard the news, his mind seemed to be bombarded by some powerful spell, and the effect of the Felix Felicis was dispersed. His cheerful and confident mental state was defeated, and his reason was back online. He slowly reacted and realized that something was wrong.

No wonder Slughorn asked him to talk to Dumbledore when he tried to retrieve his memory for the first time during the Christmas holiday!

No wonder Loren asked him to think clearly whether the goal was to obtain memories or obtain information about Horcruxes before he was about to use the Felix Felicis!

No wonder the Felix Felicis kept reminding him of Loren!

These bad guys knew about this a long time ago. Although they all hinted to him implicitly, Harry felt that they were just waiting to see him laugh.

"Damn it!"

Harry was now standing in front of the portrait hole, giving the command to the Fat Lady who couldn't even open her eyes, and then endured the Fat Lady's cursing and walked towards the dormitory, cursing in his heart.

He walked into the dormitory unconsciously with light steps. Neville's breathing was soothing and even. Seamus slept crookedly on the four-poster bed. Ron huddled in the quilt, leaving only a gap for breathing. He turned his head to look at Loren's bed, which was also sleeping soundly.

"Ah..."

After washing as quietly as possible, it took about ten minutes. Harry changed into pajamas and lay on the bed, staring at the black curtains above his head, blinking his eyes again and again, wanting to sink into dreams and meet his mother as usual, but he couldn't fall asleep.

Harry tried to relax his body and feel sleepy. Today's experience came to his mind. Perhaps he had been stimulated too much during the day, so combing his hair before going to bed made him more energetic.

He sighed, took out the book "Advanced Potion Making" from the bedside, curled up in the quilt, and started reading it under the fluorescent light of the illumination spell.

Unlike Snape's previous repressive education, Harry gained positive feedback from Slughorn. Listen carefully to the class, complete the homework carefully, and then enjoy the professor's praise. After more than half a year, he even developed a genuine interest in potions and could understand some advanced content.

"In fact, from ancient times to the present, physical phenomena without metaphysical insight are as unsatisfactory as metaphysics without physical representation..."

Reading this passage silently in his heart, Harry was silent for a while, skipped the content about the principles of potions, and turned to the back to read the evil spell invented by the Half-Blood Prince.

The content of spells, which is highly operational, does not have any twists and turns, and it is much more pleasing to the eye. Harry imagined with joy that these evil spells would be used on Snape, Fudge, and Voldemort...

Thinking of Voldemort, information about Horcruxes naturally emerged in his mind. According to the memory content seen tonight, five of the six Horcruxes have been destroyed. What is the remaining one?

Why did Helpo invent such a tricky black magic?

Why is the Hogwarts library still preserved?

Harry's eyelids slowly drooped as his chaotic thoughts and sleepiness emerged. He vaguely saw a ball of ink flowing and gradually expanding on the blank space of the leaves, spelling out a line of clear questions:

Do you want to revive your mother?