The Dark Lord at Hogwarts is not too cold

Although this is a sad piece of music starting from Louis XVI, the music between the pieces is extremely cheerful. The Weird Sisters are not idle, but try to make some simple string accompaniment.

Stitch came out, playing the organ with two hands, the ukulele with the other, and George and Fred beating the drum and bell to the rhythm practiced in their heads.

"Revolutionaries are waiting

There's my head in a silver platter

I'm just a puppet hanging by a thread

Alas, if I knew this earlier, why should I be king?

I hear the bells ring loudly in Jerusalem

The choir of the Roman cavalry is singing

As my mirror, my sword and shield...."

Cyrus looked at Hermione on the seat, and then at Cedric, Mandy, Colin, Harry, Ron, Neville, Wayne below...

The talk of passion and dominance was nothing more than applause for her, for him and her friends, for the shadow floating on the sea, which was the ideal that all men dreamed of.

Just like "Liberty Leading the People" under the birth of romanticism...

Everyone here is a newborn under French despotism. Maybe someone's ancestors once savored the horror and dominated a certain area, but after all...

“Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!”

(The former king is dead! The new king will last forever!)

Maybe this is just an ordinary lyrics, created by Cyrus with feelings, but even so, when Dumbledore saw the cheers of many people below, he was still in a daze.

Polyak and Krum tapped on the table quietly, and the Slavs seemed to be enjoying the shock brought by the song

Old things will always be swept away by history, and will always be eliminated, just like the potions book that has been maintained for more than a hundred years, it will be eliminated by the better and more convenient "New Potions".

"Albus, your student...uh...looks active..." Madame Maxime considered it.

"Ahem...Young people~ Their contribution to the wizarding world is always good." Principal Dumbledore calmly drank a full glass of whiskey in one breath, "Remus, please get some more wine... ..”

"Don't drink too much." Professor Lu Ping simply thought it sounded good.

"Minerva is right..." Dumbledore waited until the end of the song, and suddenly stood up, his crooked nose spewing black smoke and sparks like a dragon, "Everyone! Welcome Mr. Cyrus and Gran Miss Jie came up to lead the dance!"

Originally he refused, but now he has to do it... It can be seen as a little revenge from Dumbledore himself.

The warrior's dance is the opening dance, but Cyrus and Hermione's lead dance has different meanings, as if Dumbledore took the lead in getting them to do something in order to get everyone to do it.

Hermione was focused by everyone's eyes, and she walked out blushing...

Although it is winter now, Hermione and Cyrus give people a sense of romance and flow, as if rowing a boat on the water of the Black Lake in summer, and the tired queen took someone appointed by chance to go out for fun.

"Huh~ everything we have done is worth it..." Her left arm was around Cyrus' waist, her right hand was stroking the light yellow tulip embroidery, and slowly hooked his neck.

"Not enough, but coming soon"

When Cyrus stood on the stage and stood beside Stitch, he looked at the excited crowd who couldn't take their eyes off, and only then did he know what the "responsibility" mentioned by the ancient one in the dream fragment meant.

It's like a group of haggard people holding flowers standing in front of the dilapidated city by the coast, together with a group of lonely seagulls, looking at the sea level, like scarred statues.

He couldn't get away, because he and Hermione were standing in front of them; but he didn't feel the strain of being alone, because Hermione was standing in front of him...

At this time, they are not just a single 'lovers', but an existence beyond the constraints of class. His and her thoughts are the shadows rising above the sea level they are looking at.

The light shines through the ice crystals, presenting a kind of incomplete, fragmented dream.

"Let's go out to get some air too~" Hermione stepped back, took a sip of strawberry sparkling water stirred with crushed ice, and while the wizards were looking at Stitch, who couldn't stop, she pulled Cyrus outside Walk.

Not only them, Wayne and Fawcett also left.

If after passing through a few corridors, there are only scattered couples crowded in dark corners where the moonlight cannot shine, then when they reach the eighth floor, it will be completely empty.

A sprig of mistletoe hung from the windowsill.

"How long can these joys last, Cyrus?" Hermione hugged him, and leaned against Cyrus under the mistletoe. The other side of happiness is sadness. She looked at Cyrus with the moonlight behind his back worriedly face.

After experiencing the Quidditch World Cup, people need such a grand event to vent their fears.

"Trust us..."

"No, I just... just don't want them to leave," Hermione said, slowly bringing her head closer, running her fingertips through the blond hair and across his scalp.

This "they" contains too much, maybe it is the friends who are still celebrating in the auditorium, maybe it is the Granger couple and Mr. Klein who were protected by Cyrus in the World Cup.

Leaving... this is a painful topic...

"Hermione, everyone will leave each other, in various ways...but I won't..." Cyrus was trembling inside, for some reason, he seemed to be waiting for this moment .

Death, ideological opposition, betrayal, generation gap...or maybe at certain moments, it is necessary to leave, just like children grow up, work far away from their parents, and gradually forget...

"I think therefore I am, is about my own existence...but for you, I think therefore you are"

"I think so you are..." Hermione said absently, full of escapism, but now it felt like a reassurance.

Because she was thinking and missing, then, Cyrus would never leave... Even if only she could see it, it was an existence that belonged to her alone, this was a kind of *determination.

The heads got closer and closer, and finally merged together like souls...

Luna crouched on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, observing a pair of weird bugs. They stood on a rotten piece of wood, tentacles above their heads were touching tentatively, and they were talking about a signal.

The pleasant voice rang in Luna's ears, which was the message they exchanged under the moonlight.

On the edge of the incomplete moon are clouds that merge and spread out. When you look up at the slowly moving clouds in the night sky, time seems to be deliberately slowed down.

"Shall I...shall I take you home?" Cyrus panted.

"Good news, Ravenclaw doesn't have access control, bad news, but my dormitory has access control tonight..." Hermione seemed to be an occasional dopey superior, "It seems that I can only sleep in the Room of Requirement tonight."

"Ah! What a coincidence? Me too..." Cyrus raised his nose greedily, it was a weird rose fragrance.

Hermione smiled all over the city, and dragged him to the white wall of the Room of Requirement like chasing a butterfly on the lawn, and walked back and forth three times in front of the somewhat dazed Cyrus.

There were only a few dimmed candles burning in the room. The bed was not big, but it looked soft and comfortable.

There is a low bookshelf by the wall, and there are probably some ordinary novels on it. The ceiling is an artificially drawn starry sky map, and it is still rotating.

The only downside of this dance was that there was no alcohol... For underage wizards, things like alcohol were contraband, and Hermione regretted not letting the Weasley twins get some brandy in advance.

Perhaps it was the perfume that Hermione specially sprayed, which made Cyrus particularly fascinated.

"Can you take it off for me...I know you like it" Her face was pink like intoxication, and she lifted her leg gently.

Cyrus grabbed her taupe short-heeled boots and dropped them lightly on the ground, then held her soft and slender toes, and slowly poured them down on her body. The elegant scent of roses and the flickering candlelight made his eyes blurred up...

Almost by holding it in her mouth, she took off her thin white socks under Violet's skirt.

The quilt fell on the two of them obediently, and the sweet waves beat Cyrus, every breath was like the wet fog on the coast in the morning, and the sponge was illuminated a little pink in the evening.

The wind loves him/her, and countless news are passing on this planet at this moment, but they stop at this moment.

The warmth under the quilt was like a mother's embrace. She opened her arms and hugged Cyrus and Hermione kindly, because they were all her children...

Well, Hermione had to admit, her perfume today had a certain amount of love potion mixed in... and it was love water.

"How about...sleep?" Cyrus drank the imported water and moistened his hoarse and dry throat. After the wand extinguished the surrounding candles, he put it on the bedside table beside him.

"No...you don't need my help?" Hermione wrung her fingers under the covers.

Cyrus didn't speak, just closed his eyes and immersed himself in the embrace of his momentary infatuation. The next second, he felt a light touch and the warmth of the southern coast.

He looked at Hermione in panic, and in the darkness, his eyes met together...

A pair of shy, a pair of surprise and surprise.

"Remember to give me a pair of new socks... bastard!" Hermione lay beside his ear, her feet hooked up the white socks at the end of the bed, and then she retracted them, curling up in Cyrus' arms.

The church bell is no longer ringing, and Rowena in the lounge did not welcome her favorite student tonight~

('I think therefore you are' is a post-modern pessimistic thought, the fox criticizes himself, this is my nostalgia for the 'her' in the dream, used here, it is a kind of Cyrus to Hermione ensure...

His thoughts about her, and her thoughts about him, will continue with the thoughts of the soul)