Harry Potter – Approaching the Magic World

"What do you think might be in there?"

Luna asked eagerly as the wall began to turn again.

"Nagging nagging, no doubt."

Hermione replied in a low voice, Neville gently laughed nervously.

The wall gradually stopped, and Harry pushed open a door next to him somewhat desperately.

"This is it!"

When he saw the beautiful, diamond-like flashing rays of light, he immediately recognized this room.

His eyes gradually adjusted to the dazzling rays of light here, and only then did he see clearly that the dials of many clocks and watches were gleaming.

They vary in size, from grandfather clocks to travel clocks, either hanging between bookshelves or standing on a table as long as the entire room.

Because of this, a rushing, never-ending tick filled the whole room, like the sound of thousands of tiny footsteps.

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

"Go here!"

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

He walked ahead, following the narrow gap between the tables to the light source, just like he did in a dream.

This bell-shaped crystal glass cover is as high as Harry, standing on a table, and it seems to be filled with a tumbling, gleaming air current.

"Oh, look!"

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

In the twinkling light, there was a small egg that was as bright as a gem. When it rose up in the glass cover, it snapped and cracked. A hummingbird emerged and went straight to the top of the glass cover, but as the airflow fell, the bird’s feathers were stained again. Get wet until it falls to the bottom of the glass cover and is locked in the egg again.

"Keep walking, don't stop!"

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

"You've stayed at the old archway enough!"

She said, but still followed him, passing the bell-shaped crystal glass cover to the back of it. Of a door.

"It's here."

Harry said it again. His heartbeat was fierce, he thought it must be the heartbeat that affected his language expression, "It goes through here—"

He glanced around at other people, and they all took out the wand in an instant. It seems both serious and urgent.

He turned his head and stared at the door again, pushed it, and the door opened.

They came inside, and they finally found this place.

It is as tall as a church, with towering shelves lined with small gray glass balls, but nothing else.

More candlesticks are embedded in the shelf at a certain interval, and dim light is emitted from above. Like the black circular room, the flame is blue.

Those little glass balls faintly glow in the light.

It's cold in the house... Harry walked forward slowly and glanced down at a dark aisle between the two rows of shelves. He could not hear a sound, nor could he feel any movement, even the most Small movements.

"You said it was the 97th row." Hermione whispered beside him.

"Yes."

Harry responded softly and looked up at the end of the nearest row. The candle glowed with a blue flame, and the silver number flashed under the bracket.

53.

"I think we should go to the right."

Hermione whispered, squinting at the row next to her.

"By the way, this is 54."

"Everyone prepares the wand."

They tiptoedly run along the long lines between the shelves. The aisle walked forward and glanced back from time to time. The distance was almost completely dark.

On the shelf under each glass ball, there are small yellow labels attached.

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

They walked through row 84 and row 85. Harry was trying to listen to the smallest movement, but he couldn't hear anything.

It may be that Sirius’s mouth is blocked, or he may be unconscious...Or, a disgusting voice came into his mind: "Maybe he is dead..."

If that were the case, I could feel it, Harry reminded himself that his heart was beating in his throat.

"97!" Hermione whispered.

They stood at one end of row 97, staring intently at the corridor next to the shelf, where there was no one.

"He is on the far side,"

Harry said, his mouth is a little dry, "Standing here, it is impossible to see clearly."

>

He led everyone through between two rows of towering glass balls. When they passed by, some of the glass glowed faintly.

"He should be around here," Harry said in a very small voice. He was convinced that with every step forward, Sirius's ragged silhouette would appear on the pitch-black floor. "There is something here. The place...really close..."

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

"Here, somewhere."

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

Only the echo and the dusty silence.

"He may be..." Harry whispered in a hoarse voice, staring at the aisle next to him,

"Or maybe..." He immediately followed the next aisle Looked over.

"Harry?" Hermione called again.

"What?" He became 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 doesn't understand why Sirius is not here, he obviously should be here.

He ran across the rows of shelves quickly in one direction, looking along them.

One empty aisle after another flashed past him.

His partner stared at him, he turned around again, passed them, and ran in the opposite direction. There was no sign of Sirius everywhere, and no trace of a fight.

"Harry?"

"What?"

He didn't want to hear Ron talk; he didn't want to hear Ron say he was stupid, or suggested that they should return Hogwarts went, but his face became hotter and hotter, as if he wanted to hide in the darkness here for a while before facing the tall and bright hall and other accusing eyes.

"Did you see this?" Ron said.

"What?"

Harry asked, his tone was eager this time—it must be a trace or clue of Sirius's stay here.

The others are standing at the end of the 97th shelf and leaning inward. He strode up to them and found nothing, except that Ron was watching a dirty one on the shelf. Glass ball.

"What?"

He asked again gloomily.

"It's on this—it has your name on it."

Harry got closer, Ron pointed to a small glass ball, it was dirty, it seemed that it hadn't been touched for years It seemed to pass, but the glimmer of light inside made it a little brighter.

"My name?"

Harry asked blankly.

He stepped forward, because 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.

The above is marked with a delicate font with a date about sixteen years ago, followed by:

SPTtoA.PWBD

Dark Lord and ( ?) Harry Potter

"What is this?"

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