days at Hogwarts

Chapter 696 A Sleepless Night

The handwriting came into view. The moment he understood this sentence, Harry opened his eyes wide, but his pupils suddenly contracted. It was as if someone had squeezed his heart and the blood was pumped into his brain, as if he had collided head-on with the Knight Bus. He woke up instantly.

Looking at the clear and familiar handwriting, Harry's eyes flickered and his breathing became heavy.

The Half-Blood Prince's textbook is a dark magic item?
Can I really revive my mother?

Or is he trying to seduce and manipulate me?

It was hard to tell whether he was wary or expectant, or both. His remaining sanity was giving him a warning, and Harry knew that he should immediately stay away from this strange textbook, seal it up and hand it over to Dumbledore.

But, but...

With an indescribable feeling of uneasiness, Harry put down the book "Advanced Potion-Making" and clenched his wand in his right hand against the old textbook. Sharpshooter was the most effective spell he could think of.

The parchment pages were slightly yellowed, and the tattered old textbook lay quietly on the quilt, without any movement.

If it weren't for the strange handwriting, Harry would have thought it was an absurd dream.

Harry held his wand tightly and waited silently, he knew that this strange textbook would not remain silent.

Sure enough, this silent confrontation did not last long. He felt a subtle Legilimency sweeping past quietly, flashing by, silently, but that thought gave him a familiar feeling that was hard to ignore, as if he had seen it somewhere.

Harry subconsciously activated the Occlumency technique, and the tip of his wand was brewing a surge of magic. As he watched, the ink of the sentence seeped into the paper, blurring into a blob. After a brief pause, another line of words appeared:

"Communicate with me in words, Potter."

Harry's hands were clenched so tightly around his wand that they turned white. There was a quill and ink bottle on the bedside table, but he did not reach out to take them. Instead, he stared deeply at the line of ink. After a long time, he chose to close the textbook silently and put it in the bedside drawer.

"..."

Lying on the four-poster bed, staring blankly at the black curtains above his head, Harry's thoughts were in a mess and he had no desire to sleep at all.

……

Dawn the next day.

Loren felt the morning light pouring into the room through the window. The black curtains were not drawn, and the soft light shone into his eyes. The already blurry dream turned into a vast expanse of white, and he gradually woke up.

I don’t know if it’s an illusion, but I always feel like there’s a pair of eyes staring at me from behind, with a deep gaze.

"..."

Loren opened his eyes. The bright morning light made his eyes a little uncomfortable, and he blinked twice before he calmed down.

The sky outside the window was blue without any clouds or fog blocking the view. It looked like it would be a good day again. I turned my head to look to the side and just happened to meet that deep gaze.

Harry, wrapped in the quilt, lay sideways, staring at him with his eyes. His eyeballs were bloodshot and there were dark circles around his eyes. It took him a long time to blink. He had no expression on his face and looked very stupid.

Loren tilted his head and said, "Does the Felixir have the effect of refreshing you?"

"No." Harry answered slowly, his voice was hoarse, a typical sequelae of staying up all night.

"So what's wrong with you, spending the whole night drinking with Hagrid and Slughorn?"

"No."

Harry's eyes blinked faster and his expression gradually became lively, as if an old computer that had crashed was struggling to restart. He slowly sat up and asked, "Did you know this a long time ago?"

"what do you know?"

"Slughorn's memories, the Half-Blood Prince's textbook."

"Just a little bit."

"I knew it, I knew it!" Harry's breathing quickened, his eyes sparkling. "We are friends, Loren, I know you will never murder me, so what the textbook says is true, my mother can really be resurrected, right!?"

"Resurrection..." Professor Snape was still trying to extract Slughorn's memory last night, so how come he started taking action as soon as he woke up?

Loren glanced at the Horcrux book on the bedside table and felt a little troubled. He carefully considered his words and thought about a proper answer: "How should I put it? I will definitely not murder you, and the Half-Blood Prince will not murder you either, but you'd better not have too much hope for resurrection."

"why?"

"Remember Professor McGonagall's warning when she was teaching Animagus? Magic is indeed very magical, but if a wizard attempts to use magic to break the laws of nature, it generally won't have a good result. This is the case with Transfiguration, not to mention things like resurrection and breaking the boundary between life and death."

"But, but..."

"I know you won't listen to me right now. It's useless for me to talk a lot." Loren got up from the bed, put his feet into slippers, and walked to the bathroom with his heels swaying. "Since you didn't take any action last night, it means you still have concerns. If you are unsure, I suggest you go talk to Dumbledore."

"..."

Harry pursed his lips, his mind filled with doubts.

Who is the Half-Blood Prince?

Why did Loren let him get the book?
Can his mother be resurrected?

"By the way, I think you should catch up on some sleep."

Loren glanced at his dark circles and red bloodshot eyes, closed the bathroom door, squeezed toothpaste and began to brush his teeth, dense orange-flavored foam spreading in his mouth.

In fact, the fact that Harry did not take immediate action after hearing the news and waited until now to inquire about the situation was beyond his expectations.

No matter what Harry did next, he would have to tell Dumbledore later.

……

Loren's voice entered his ears and, after being processed by his tired and sluggish brain, became ethereal and vague, as if it was floating from far away.

Harry stared blankly into the air, a vague ringing sound echoing in his ears.

He realized that he should indeed rest, but thinking of the news of his mother's resurrection and the questions about the Half-Blood Prince, he couldn't lie down.

Harry forced himself to stay awake, buried his face in his hands and rubbed it hard, then got up from the bed, without even changing out of his pajamas, and walked towards the headmaster's office.

A few minutes later, Harry stood in front of the headmaster's office and looked up at the carvings on the oak door. His eyes were a little dazed and he had no recollection of how he got here. He vaguely remembered that portraits and ghosts greeted him along the way, but he seemed not to respond.

"Dong dong dong..."

"Dong dong dong..."

"Dong dong dong..."

Harry knocked three times before he heard footsteps coming from inside the room, followed by Dumbledore's voice.

"Please come in."

Dumbledore, who was wearing blue pajamas, sat behind his desk. His deep blue eyes stayed on his for a while, revealing a look of surprise. He poured a glass of honey water and handed it to him: "Harry, what do you want to talk to me about so early?"

"The story begins with the Half-Blood Prince's textbook..."

Harry recounted the events of the Half-Blood Prince over the past six months, the convenient and effective notes, the strange curses, and the strange handwriting that suddenly appeared last night...

After saying that, he picked up the hot sugar water and took a sip.

“Very interesting story.”

Dumbledore looked at him with a smile, "But the most important thing for you now is to have a good sleep..."

Harry heard those long echoing voices again, and the fatigue that had been suppressed all night poured out like a flood. His bloodshot eyes blinked a few times and slowly closed.

(End of this chapter)