Chapter 65

Harry put the sorting hat on his head, stared at the black lining of the hat, and waited a little nervously.

At this time, a small voice said in his ear, "something you don't understand, Harry Potter?"

"Oh, yes," Harry whispered vaguely, "I'm sorry to bother you, I want to ask..."

"You've always wanted to know if I put you in the right college," said the hat cleverly. "Yes... Your position is really not easy to be accurate, but at least it's much better than that Marca McLean..."

"Marca?" Harry said in surprise.

"Yes! Haven't you been thinking about him?" whispered the hat. "McClain should have gone to Ravenclaw, but he went to Hufflepuff; and you should have gone to Slytherin, but -"

Harry's heart sank violently. He grabbed the top of his hat and took it off. The hat hung soft in his hand. It was dirty and faded.

Harry put it back on the original shelf and felt a fit of nausea.

"You're wrong," he said loudly to the silent hat.

The hat didn't move.

Harry stared at it and stepped back. Suddenly there was a strange suffocating cry behind him. He suddenly turned around.

On a high gilded perch behind the door stood an old bird, like a turkey with half its feathers pulled out.

Harry stared at it, and the bird looked at him with sad eyes and made that suffocating sound.

Harry thought it looked very ill - its eyes were dead, and just as Harry looked at it, a few more feathers fell off its tail.

Harry thought that if Dumbledore's bird died and he and the bird were alone in the office, it would be enough for him alone

Just when he thought so, the bird suddenly caught fire all over.

Harry let out a cry of horror and stepped back into the table. He looked around anxiously, hoping for a glass of water or something, but he didn't see it.

At the same time, the bird has become a fireball. It screamed and then disappeared, leaving only a pile of ashes on the tray under the perch that had not been completely extinguished.

The door of the office opened and Dumbledore came in with a dignified look.

"Professor," said Harry gasping, "your bird... I can't help it. It suddenly caught fire..."

Dumbledore looked at the pile of ashes on the tray, and a smile suddenly appeared on his dignified face.

"It's almost time," he said. "It's been like that for many days. I've been telling it to act quickly."

He could not help laughing softly when he saw the surprised expression on Harry's face.

"Fox is a Phoenix, Harry. When the Phoenix is about to die, it will burn itself and be reborn from the ashes. You see -"

Harry turned his head and just saw a small, wrinkled chick sticking its head out of the ashes. It looks as ugly as an old bird.

"It's a pity that today is its nirvana," said Dumbledore, sitting down behind the table, "It's very beautiful most of the time - covered with amazing red and gold feathers. Phoenix is really a very strange and charming life. They can carry extremely heavy things, their tears can heal, and they will remain infinitely loyal to the objects they recognize."

In the panic caused by Fox's self Immolation, Harry temporarily forgot the reason why he came here. But now, when Dumbledore sat down in the high chair behind the table and stared at him with his light blue and penetrating eyes, he remembered everything.

"Professor Dumbledore..."

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" said Dumbledore gently. "It's all right. Speak slowly."

Harry found that when he was really facing Dumbledore, what he wanted to say became difficult to speak.

Maka has always had a good relationship with him. He received gifts last Christmas - although he didn't read the book about "brain closure".

But these are proof of friendship.

If you tell Dumbledore what happened to Marca, it's not like

No, it's also for Maka's good! Maybe as Hermione said, Maka is just affected by some dark magic. This matter needs to be solved as soon as possible.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry took a deep breath and looked firmly, "I think Marca may have been influenced by some kind of dark magic of Voldemort, he..."

Harry told Dumbledore everything he saw, heard and guessed, including what Ron saw, what Hermione speculated, and what he felt.

"... that's it, Professor Dumbledore."

After he finished, he looked at Dumbledore's face with complex eyes mixed with anxiety and expectation, hoping that the other party could give some solutions.

But who knows, Dumbledore just smiled.

"Don't worry, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "Marca is fine. He's not affected by any dark magic. Yes, I know he's changed a little, but it's his own choice. All we need to do is trust him, that's all."

Dumbledore paused and then said, "what about you? Harry, is there anything else you'd like to tell me? I mean - about yourself."

Harry was stunned and hesitated.

He thought of Malfoy's cry: "it's your turn next, mud seed!"; I remembered that the compound decoction was still slowly boiling in the crying Myrtle's bathroom.

Then he remembered the ghostly voice he had heard; Think of Ron saying, "it's not a good sign to hear voices that others can't hear, even in the magical world."

He also remembered what everyone said about him and his growing concern about his relationship with Salazar Slytherin

For a moment, the complicated doubts made Harry close his mouth tightly.

"No," said Harry. "Nothing, sir."

……

Justin and Nearly Headless Nick were both attacked, which made the already tense atmosphere really panic.

Strangely enough, what scares people most is the experience of Nick, who almost had no head.

What can do this to a ghost? People ask each other. What terrible force can hurt a dead person? The students were almost scrambling to book seats on the Hogwarts Express train, hoping to go home for Christmas.

The three of Harry, however, have always been talking and fell into silence recently.

Although the compound decoction is almost ready, they don't know whether to use it or not.

Even if Harry told Ron and Hermione Dumbledore's answer, it didn't give much comfort, and the things to worry about didn't seem to decrease.

After a lot of wishful thinking, they still planned to go to Malfoy with compound decoction to test, so that they could do something for the time being, so as not to worry too much because of such and such considerations.

Finally, the semester was over, and the silence as thick as the snow on the ground shrouded the whole castle.

Luna went home. She spent every Christmas at home with her father, and this year is no exception.

Although she asked Maka if she wanted to go to her house and have a lively Christmas like last year, Maka didn't promise this time.

He still has a lot to do, and he can't delay any longer.

To his surprise, he was not alone this Christmas.

"There is a kind of flower. Help me have a look."

When Maka sat on the wall of the top floor of the astronomical tower and wrote something, a familiar voice sounded from the stairs.

"Miss brova." Maka turned her head. "Didn't you go back?"

"There is a kind of flower. Help me have a look."

Willie stood at the entrance of the stairs, still wearing the loose Slytherin robe, and calmly repeated what she had just said.

"..." Marca looked at Willie and asked after a while, "what flowers?"

"No name."

Willie took a small cloth bag out of her arms, opened it and showed it to Marca.

It was a handful of flower seeds, pink and white, with some illusory colors.

Maka carefully picked up a flower seed, put it under her nose and smelled it. She immediately felt some pungent smell - it was definitely not good.

"I haven't seen it. It should be a rare magical plant," Maka said. "It looks very similar to the seed of crystal Magnolia. Maybe it is also a flower with high environmental requirements."

"Go and try it. I'll help you apply for the fifth greenhouse."

Marca took Willie to Professor sprott's office and soon got the key to the greenhouse.

In the fifth greenhouse, Maka quietly recorded the morphological characteristics of the seeds in the herbalist notes, while Willie stood beside and covered the flowerpot with bottom soil.

Now both of them don't like to talk. They are doing things together, but there is no corresponding atmosphere.

Because of this, the efficiency of work was unusually high, and everything was finished soon.

Just as Marca was going to leave, Willie took the initiative to speak.

"And you?" she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Can I help you?"

Willie's brief speech seems to have become a habit, and she always likes to omit the premise.

"Me?" Marca thought, then shook her head slightly. "No."

Willie pushed up the brim of her big pointed hat, looked at Marca quietly, and said quietly after a while, "if there is... Tell me."

With that, she calmly turned around, pushed open the door of the greenhouse and left.

Maka stood in the greenhouse, looked at the closed door, thought for a moment, and finally hurried to catch up.