Hogwarts: Atypical Slytherin

Later, Clooney went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office. The light from outside doesn't illuminate much of the castle, which is why candles burn inside Hogwarts' interiors even during the day.

Unfortunately, Professor Quirrell was in the office today - he was usually missing at this time.

"Ai-Ai-Ai-Burt-" He stared in surprise at Clooney's face as he quietly leaned into the door - just a moment ago, his locked door opened by itself. But as soon as he saw the familiar tear mole, he knew who was coming.

"Is-is-is something wrong?"

"I-I just-" The girl's originally empty-looking face was suddenly crumpled into a ball after seeing him. Her lower lip was pouted, and the flesh of her cheeks was also sticking out hard. It looks like he is enduring something. "I just wanted to come-"

"I-I-I know-" Quirrell's fingers were entangled with each other, he stammered, "Those-little gifts are-all from you."

"I just -" When she heard Quirrell's cry in the afternoon, she was already infected by him and felt extremely depressed - it took her a long time to recover. But now - as soon as she saw Quirrell's increasingly haggard face, her sadness was uncontrollable, like a long-dormant volcano erupting - she couldn't even control her expression.

If she hadn't talked to Quirrell, she might not have had such difficulty controlling her emotions. She couldn't help but blush as she looked at Quirrell's pale face. Those crystal tears kept flowing out of her eyes, and then slid down very quickly from the side of her face, hitting the ground with a patter, "I'm just a little worried about you."

Quirrell also looked extremely sad. His eyes were staring blankly at the water marks on the ground, and then very quickly and focused on her face, looking at her - they had been for a long time. I have never had such a serious face-to-face encounter.

His lips trembled, and he looked like he was about to say something, but he swallowed it back.

He stood blankly in front of his desk, his hands trembling and clenched into the shape of a fist, and then he leaned gently on the tabletop of the desk to support his body: "I-I-I know-you- —”

His voice was quiet, as if he was afraid of waking someone up: "I - I know - Clooney - I -"

"You must have encountered something very bad." Clooney's voice was also quiet - she was so choked that she couldn't make a sound. She sniffed gently while saying intermittently, "I thought you hated me. - But I feel sad for you -"

"I want you to know that someone actually cares about you -" She wiped away her endless tears while trying her best to express her concern and convey some warmth to him in this way, but He also felt that such behavior might be a bit bad - an adult might not be willing to reveal his thoughts that he wanted to hide in front of someone much younger than him, "I'm sorry -"

Quirrell looked like he was about to cry, his eyes were red, and he looked like he wanted to cry, but he was deliberately enduring it - he also liked to cry recently, and tears fell quietly from his cheeks: "I I'm sorry - Claudine - I've been -"

"I'm sorry, Professor -" Clooney stepped forward step by step, then opened her arms and hugged him gently - she didn't care about the strange garlic smell at all now.

"If you can, if you are willing, I want to hear what you have to say - if you are worried or embarrassed to tell others, you can tell me that we had a good relationship before - we had a good relationship before, and you also helped I have a lot—”

Quirrell's body was extremely stiff, and he hugged her back tightly, like a person who fell into the sea hugging a floating thatch. Clooney felt that his tears were almost soaking her robe, and his thin body seemed to collapse in the next second. But his movements were still slow, and he didn't even let out a single sob.

Claudine patted him gently on the back, but Quirrell quickly let go of her.

"Thank you, Lenny." Quirrell called her by her nickname for the first time. Before that, he only called Claudine by her Christian name. After school started this year, he always called her Albert. It was the first time he called her so affectionately.

The eyes he looked at her were full of sorrow and regret, but his tone became cold: "But you can't help me with this matter - it seems that no one can help me."

He said coldly: "I hope you won't come."

"Don't give me any more gifts, I don't need them."

The hug that just ended a second ago seemed to suddenly become a long time ago. Claudine felt chills running down her back, and she felt even sadder.

"I'm sorry-" she said softly, then turned around and ran out of this cold, lifeless office.

She didn't see Quirrell's eyes staring at her back, nor did she hear him sobbing hard again and wailing after she left. These were blocked by Quirrell's closed door again.

Clooney felt that she should respect her teacher's choice, but she still couldn't help but want to cry. Being rejected is not a happy thing. If you are determined to do it after you are full of courage and work hard, and then you are rejected, it will be even more sad. I feel pain. But Clooney will not shed tears because of this shame - she will not allow her tears to be so cheap. She just felt pain for what happened to Quirrell - she couldn't imagine that she would go crazy if something like this happened to her, with no one to tell her, no one to know about, no one to care about.

Quirrell looked pained and sad, and longed for someone to comfort him - otherwise he would not hug her back, but he still decided to refuse all her kindness. He didn't want to tell his colleagues or expose this in front of his colleagues, nor would he tell the principal. Besides, he couldn't possibly tell the students about it. His approach was undoubtedly to tell Clooney that he was prepared to face the Sword of Damocles who would come down at some point.

She didn't even know what kind of disease Quilo was or what the cause was - she had read countless books and seen countless diseases with similar symptoms, but none of them would cause death. She felt as if she had returned to the day Green died, and she could only watch the people around her die step by step.

"But I obviously tried harder." She asked herself while hiding next to the tree closest to the Forbidden Forest and crying. The shadow of the big tree just blocked all her figures and helped her avoid the burning sun.

"Why haven't I changed anything?"

With tears in her eyes, she dug into the dry soil with her nails, trying to relieve the stabbing feeling in this way, but this behavior seemed to be of no use. The sun has gone to the west, and the remaining shade of the big tree has been stretched, but its position has also changed slightly. Dusk hit the side of her face, blending her shadow with that of the Forbidden Forest.

The goddess of night is about to come quietly, and the sinking sun is gradually replaced by darkness. The night of fraternity attempts to cover up her pain and sadness with soft darkness.

But night will only cover up people’s traces and crying faces, just like time cannot heal wounds, and no method or excuse can wash away the reality that is so obvious. Wounds that do not want to heal will surely hurt every moment, reminding you of those The irrevocable past.

If you can't accept it or adapt to it, your only possible result is to indulge in one possible dream after another. But Clooney could neither accept nor adapt, nor would she allow herself to indulge in the fantasy of Xu Mi. She tried to find various methods, but no matter it was any book, any person, or herself, The fact of being helpless is repeated over and over again.

She could only painfully pick up the wand and point it at herself - Snape's indefinite confinement some time ago coincidentally prevented her from doing these actions.

She pointed straight at herself, the black tip of the wand leaning against her heart.

She whispered the familiar mantra.