Harry Potter’s Natural Villain

On the second day of the Christmas break, on the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle, the current Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, is sitting on a rattan armchair at his desk, which is surrounded by two lamps. Umbrella-shaped lights emit a faint glow, but they also illuminate almost every corner of the room.

He was now squinting slightly, enduring a portrait's incessant accusations.

The ancestor of the Black family, the former headmaster of Hogwarts, Phineas, is now asking Dumbledore in a stern tone: "You actually brought this thing to the headmaster's room? What are you trying to do? Dumbledore!"

If someone else was present now, he might not have the slightest suspicion that the man in the portrait would jump out of the frame at any moment with excitement.

"I believe Dumbledore has his own reasons." A portrait next to him also opened his eyes at this time, and dissuaded Felix beside him.

The portrait is of a kind and wealthy middle-aged woman, wearing a large and gorgeous lady's wizard robe, which is covered with all kinds of mysterious patterns.

"I'm sorry." Dumbledore bowed slightly towards the portrait, then stretched out his hand and gently shook the wand in his hand, awakening the person in the portrait, and then immediately fell into a deep sleep.

It is worth mentioning that the moment before Phineas fell into a deep sleep, his expression was quite grim.

Dumbledore then casually walked behind the door. On a high gilded perch, his pet phoenix was sleeping on it. Dumbledore stretched out his wide and somewhat wrinkled palm, and the palm of his hand suddenly rose up. A faint blue flame, Fox seemed to smell something, suddenly opened its eyes, gently stretched out his head, opened his mouth, and swallowed the ball of fire.

After a satisfied burp, it let out a soft, trembling chirping, spitting out a little white mist.

At this moment, there was a sudden knock on the door outside the copper door of the principal's office. Dumbledore's hand that was stroking Fox's head suddenly stopped, and he sighed silently. Then it quickly returned to normal.

"The password is Chocolate Doll, Harry." Dumbledore said in the direction of the door, full of air, and passed a long way.

With a creaking sound, the monster who was responsible for the door downstairs jumped aside, the wall cracked in half, the door opened, Harry followed the spiral staircase all the way up, and then gently pushed open the door with a lion body eagle. A door with a brass knocker in the shape of a beast.

"It's so cold." This thought flashed through Harry's mind after he stepped into the room with one foot.

"There's no way Hogwarts has air conditioning, right?" he thought wildly.

"Professor?" Harry asked tentatively, walking slowly to the other end, looking at the surrounding environment. The silverware that should normally be placed on the corner of the desk and on the bookshelf for decoration seems to have been put into a box. Inside, not a single one was seen, and the portraits hanging on the wall were now sleeping peacefully and peacefully.

It was only at this time that Dumbledore walked out from behind the door with his hands behind his back. "Hello, Harry." A tired smile appeared on his old face.

"Sit down, Harry, I came to you just to have a chat with you." Dumbledore said kindly, waving his hand, and a chair slid precisely under Harry with a "whoosh" sound.

Harry sat down, his heart was beating constantly, feeling that Professor Dumbledore was a little abnormal today, but he didn't think about it deeply, because in his understanding, Dumbledore would not harm him, now It's a little weird at best.

"Well, Harry, I just wanted to talk to you about the pain of your scar." Dumbledore took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on.

"Professor, you..." Harry looked at him in surprise.

"Don't be surprised, your godfather is too worried about you, so he revealed something to me not long ago, I hope you won't blame him, and I guess you should be coming to me soon, so I just asked you to come over first. , talk about it."

"It doesn't hurt that much," Harry said incredulously, hoping that Dumbledore wouldn't be so worried.

Because of this, he felt like a "porcelain doll" who had to be protected by others at all times, and he was eager to prove himself.

After people are placed on unrealistically high expectations, responsible people will try their best to meet the expectations of others. Harry hopes that he can make the name of "Savior" more or less in line with himself.

"Don't underestimate any small thing, it can be a symptom of something big, for example, if your scar suddenly starts to hurt during the game, it can be fatal, Harry." Dumbledore was concerned. "I heard you fainted?"

At the same time, those sharp blue eyes met Harry's dark green eyes.

Harry suddenly felt that he had become dazed, his eyelids became heavier and heavier, and he wanted to sleep well, but suddenly there was a feeling of coldness that went deep into the bone marrow.

Harry closed his eyes, sat on the chair, and started waving his hands wildly, saying, "It's so cold, so cold."

"It'll be fine soon, Harry, bear with it." Dumbledore's generous voice kept coming from his ears. Harry wanted to open his eyes, but found that his eyelids were now terrifyingly heavy, as if they were filled with water. lead.

A sense of despair suddenly crept into his heart. It was so sudden and urgent. He hadn't had such an experience for a long time. The last time, it seemed, was in the third year, in that crucial Quidditch match. To the Dementors.

"Dementor?" Harry's consciousness seemed to begin to struggle, and the chair under him began to shake desperately. "Shut up..." Harry grabbed his wand subconsciously, hoping to use the Patronus Charm to put this Abominable creatures are driven away.

It's just that his subconscious spell only uttered the first half of the syllables in his throat, and the second half of the syllables, as if the throat was stuck in half and could not make a sound.

"Forgive me, Harry." Dumbledore's hand was holding his wand a little trembling now, and he stared at the boy in front of him with a complicated expression. The expression on the boy's face at this time was very painful. As if suffering a great deal of torment.

Why? For a Dementor was now floating behind Harry's seat, leaning over, its tattered, scabbed palms firmly gripping Harry's shoulders.

Even though the doors and windows were closed, the shabby cloak was still fluttering. The air-conditioning in front of the principal's room was brought about by this evil creature, and under Dumbledore's behest, this evil creature had been floating on the top of the ornate ceiling. , hiding his figure.