Hogwarts, a Scholar Becomes a God

The latest website: "Thankfully the ground is so soft."

"I thought he was going to die!"

"But he didn't even break his glasses."

Small whispers rang in Harry's ears, and he felt like he was in a dream, a dream he didn't want to wake up from.

Everything around him was so vague, so unreachable, he didn't know where he was, how he got here, or what he was doing before he came.

He only knew that no part of his body didn't hurt, and his whole body was sore and weak, as if he had been beaten badly, and then dragged and ran for several kilometers.

"It's good that we finally won, didn't we?"

"Thanks to Harry, those guys are the scariest thing I've ever seen..."

The scariest...the scariest thing...the black shadow in the hood...the cold...the scream...

"Do not!"

Harry opened his eyes suddenly, and some sat up from the bed.

He saw the snow-white beds and curtains around him. This was the Hogwarts School Hospital.

The Gryffindor House Quidditch team was splattered with mud from head to toe, and surrounded his bed. Clark, Hermione, and Ron were all there too, drenched as if they had just gotten out of the house. Climb up in the pool.

"Harry!" Fred exclaimed in surprise, looking particularly white against the mud. "What do you think?"

Harry's memories seemed to come back very quickly: the lightning, the storm...the freezing cold and the heat in the blood...the golden snitch...and the dementor...

"What happened?"

Harry said, the aching body could no longer hold, and suddenly lay down again, startling them all.

"You fell," said Fred. "There must have been—then—fifty feet?"

"We thought you were dead," Arya said, shaking.

Ron made a low, harsh sound, his eyes bloodshot.

"But that game," Harry said, "what happened? Can we play again?"

"Don't you remember?" Wood was surprised, but he couldn't hide the joy under the mud. "You were born a Seeker."

"We won, you caught the Snitch," said George, with a smile on his face. "It was so dangerous to jump, and Diggory in Hufflepuff was stunned by your actions."

"But it's worth it, well over two percent," Fred added. "We won fairly, and we won fairly...even Diggory admits it."

Harry was finally in a better mood. "I don't know...I don't remember...I just deserved that I saw the Dementors, and then there was white fog all around..."

His brain was racing, and he finally remembered something, "During the halftime pause, Clark came to me... Is that you, Clark?"

He looked at Clark, who nodded with a smile, "It's just a little trick that makes people instantly forget about fear, a fearless skill."

That's right, during the game, he locked Harry through telepathy, gave him a [Fever Mind], and turned this guy into a Berserker in an instant.

"That's great!" Wood slapped Clark on the shoulder hard, and the ward was filled with a cheerful atmosphere for a while.

"But Headmaster Dumbledore isn't very happy," Neville interrupted suddenly.

"Yeah, yeah, Dumbledore is really angry," Hermione said in a shaky voice. "I've never seen him so angry."

Ron also said: "When you grabbed the Snitch and you fell, he ran up the court and used magic to catch you. Then he waved his wand at the Dementors and shot silvery things that terrified those terrible The guy was kicked off the court. Seeing how nervous he was, everyone thought you were…”

"Isn't it alright?" Harry couldn't stand the low atmosphere, so he made a joke and raised his arm at the same time, but this behavior affected the injured part, and he couldn't help but grinned. expression.

The crowd burst into good-natured laughter.

At this time, Madam Pomfrey from the school hospital heard laughter and came over and told the team members that Harry needed to rest.

"We'll see you later." Fred and the others smiled and waved to Harry.

At this point Harry suddenly asked, "Did anyone get my Nimbus 2000?"

He looked around, but didn't find his broom, and thought it was put away by them.

However, the laughter in the ward stopped abruptly after Harry asked, and everyone glanced at each other quickly.

"Oh... Harry..."

"What's wrong?" said Harry, looking at them one by one, some carefully avoiding his gaze.

"Well... when you fell, it was also blown away by the wind." Clark stood up and said hesitantly, "You know, the wind was so strong."

"And then?" Harry's Adam's apple rolled and he swallowed, having a bad guess in his heart.

"And then it hit - hit - oh Harry - it hit the beating willow."

Harry's heart throbbed. The beater willow was a very violent tree that grew on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was only last year that he and Ron had learned its power.

"And then?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.

"Well, you know the battering willow," said Ron. "It—it doesn't like people bumping into it."

"Professor Flitwick just got it back before you woke up," Hermione said in a low voice.

She slowly reached for the bag at her feet, tipped it upside down, and a dozen pieces of wood and fragments of the broom's tail fell on the bed, the remains of Harry's most faithful broom.

Harry stretched out his hand to touch the pieces, but withdrew his hand in heartache. He remembered that when he jumped out, he borrowed strength on his broomstick, but he didn't think about it at the time, nor did he. Consider the possible outcomes of broomsticks.

Blame yourself!

Gu Yi

The surrounding Gryffindor team members bowed their heads, and Harry sacrificed his broom to win for them, which didn't feel so good.

"Harry..." Fred opened his mouth, but didn't know how to persuade him, and finally had to be driven away by Madam Pomfrey in embarrassment, leaving behind a trail of mud.

Clark also knew that in this case, Harry needed time to be alone to accept all this, so he also greeted Hermione, Ron and the others to go out together.

For the next few days, Harry lay in the school hospital, and Madam Pomfrey advised him to stay until the weekend.

Harry didn't argue with her or complain, just wouldn't let her throw away the Nimbus 2000 shards.

He knew it was stupid, he knew that Nimbus 2000 was beyond repair, but he couldn't help it, he felt like he had lost a best friend, and he was pushing him away at the time, which made He fell into deep self-blame.

During this time, many people came to visit him, all intent on making him happy.

Hagrid gave him a bunch of centipede flowers, but they looked more like yellow cabbage; Ginny Weasley came blushing and gave him a homemade recovery card, if ha Li does not close the card and press it under a dish or fruit, and it will screechingly sing.

The members of the Gryffindor team came to see Harry again on Sunday morning, and Wood even suggested that he could buy another broomstick, and the team could help apply to Professor McGonagall for some funding for the event.

"You have to pick yourself up, of course I know how sad it is for a Quidditch player to lose his first broom, but that's what we have to go through, top Quidditch players get scrapped just by training every year. More than a dozen brooms." Although Wood's words were inhumane, they were extraordinarily reasonable.

But no matter what other people say or do, it can't make Harry feel any better, because what people know is only half of his troubles.

Some things, he didn't tell anyone, in that Quidditch match, he saw "unknown", that **** dog, in the stands of the Quidditch pitch.

He said nothing, because Harry knew that if he did, Ron would panic and Hermione would laugh at him.

The truth, however, is that it has appeared twice, both times with near-lethal incidents: the first time, when he was nearly run over by a knight bus; the second time, when he jumped from fifty feet fell off the broom.

Is the ominous going to haunt him until he really dies? Should he be on guard against this beast for the rest of his life?

And then there were the dementors, and Harry felt sick and humiliated every time he thought about them.

Everyone said they were scary, but no one else was like him. They fainted as soon as they approached... No one else heard the voices of their dying parents repeatedly in their minds.

Yes, now Harry knew whose voice he heard in his coma.

At night, he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the moonlight on the ceiling.

At this time, he heard her words, and heard those words repeated in his mind over and over again.

Those were his mother's dying words, and she had worked so hard to protect him from Voldemort.

He also heard Voldemort's laughter before he killed his mother - whenever he slept, he would dream in his sleep of wet, slimy, rotting hands and creepy sharps laughter.

This terrible situation has been haunting him, and he often wakes up in the middle of the night just because he hears his mother's voice again.

Harry even thought that if this continued, he would be insane.

So when he came out of the school hospital, he couldn't wait to find the person in his image who could definitely help him.

"Clark, I have something to talk to you about."

Yes, Ron and Hermione may not be very reliable, but Clark, who is smart and knowledgeable, can definitely help him, and he is so reliable and so understanding that Harry has always believed in it.

And things developed just as Harry thought.

"Is there a problem?"

Clark was sitting at the table on a weekend afternoon, discussing the Defence Against the Dark Arts thesis assignment with Hermione and Neville.

Harry looked at Hermione and Neville next to him, but didn't speak.

Clark understood what he meant, stood up, motioned for Hermione and Neville to continue, and took Harry back to the dormitory.

"It's only us here, what are you looking for, Harry?" Clark sat on the edge of the bed, his tone was very gentle, his attitude was very sincere, and he looked very trustworthy.

Under his penetrating gaze, Harry only hesitated for a moment before blurting out the question he had to ask, and when he tried to stop, it was too late.

"Why, why do those dementors affect me like that? Am I—"

Harry couldn't go on, Clark crossed his fingers, his whole body leaned forward slightly, his elbows rested on his thighs, and the weight of his upper body was put on it, which made him look shrunk and reduced a lot. presence.

"Say, if you want to overcome your fear, the first thing you have to do is face your fear. There are only two of us here. You can speak it out!"

Clark persuaded Harry very calmly, and looking at his calm face, Harry relaxed instead.

"I've been having nightmares all night long since the last Quidditch match, when I ran into those dementors."

"What are you dreaming about?" Clark's posture remained unchanged. A ray of winter sunlight shone into the dormitory through the window and fell on his black hair and young face, dyeing him with a bright golden light. .

Harry fought back the discomfort in his heart and told his dream, "There were screams, green lights, and women's cries...that was my mother, she was praying to Voldemort, and Voldemort was going to kill me, my mother……"

"Mother's love is great," Clark sighed. "At the last moment of her life, she did not forget to protect you. I think she must have only you in her eyes at that time."

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, infected by his words, when Clark asked again, "So, Harry, why are you running away again?"

"I didn't want to run away..." Harry flatly denied ~www.readwn.com~ but Clark pointed out his problem immediately, "Since you came to me, it means you are haunted by this dream, do you want to Get rid of what you see, you see your mother's love for you as a nightmare, isn't that escape?"

Clark's words were like a sharp knife, cutting open Harry's chest with force, showing him his internal organs.

Harry's face was very ugly, and his voice raised a little involuntarily, "I don't want to escape, I just don't want to know how my mother was killed by Voldemort over and over in my sleep!"

Having said that, Harry couldn't hold back any longer, his head was buried, and crystal tears fell to the ground one by one.

Clark stood up, walked over to him, and put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"You must miss her, Harry?"

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