HP monster

I am a coward.

…After that, Harry and I were sent to the school hospital together, and Madam Pomfrey circled around us in a hurry, because we still had no signs of waking up—I guess you already understood, Harry was because of the truth I can't wake up, and I hope I never wake up again.

I feel that my originally comfortable life has become a mess. I should have listened to Dumbledore and waited quietly for him to tell me everything. Maybe on the day when I am getting old, when he is sure that I don’t want to When he was looking for a father for himself, he would slowly recall the past with me: a long time ago, ah, when you were in the first grade, there was Professor Quirrell, and he was actually your father.But he is a villain, an evil force that must be eradicated no matter in TV series or in life, so Harry killed him.

…so Harry killed him.

This is what I can't accept the most.

Harry is the child I have valued the most in my life so far. I even thought I had fallen in love with him, but now...

I don't know how to get along with Harry anymore. For three days in a row, I closed my eyes tightly, standing next to Harry to denounce my father who is dead, and putting on my armor and denying my relatives, standing opposite Harry. He made a difficult choice in life and death—as you can see, I almost collapsed with this idea, and even I myself understand how dramatic these two scenarios are.

This is not life.

At least no matter how weird or maverick I am in life, I can't do either of the two.

All I can do is just close my eyes so that no one will notice that I have woken up.

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"Why hasn't Dikas woke up yet?"

"Quirrell put some spells on him, and it's broken, but we need to give him time to recover."

The conversation between Harry and Dumbledore has been going on for a long time, until I heard this, I knew it was time to wake up.

I opened my eyes, and Dumbledore saw it first. At that moment, I felt something flashed under his eyes, but I couldn't catch it, and I couldn't use my remaining IQ to analyze the reason.He reached out and patted Harry on the shoulder, motioning him to look at me, "Look, Harry, you two have a good understanding."

Harry was surprised for a moment, and then realized that he looked very worried, jumped off the bed and ran to my bed, he hugged me as usual, and put his head on my chest to rub Seeking a sense of security -- at least that's how I've always understood it.

I should have responded, like putting my arms around him too, hugging him, patting his back like I've done so many times before.

……but I do not have.

In fact, I was so stiff that I couldn't command my hands to make any movements, they seemed to be frozen to death by a terrible black magic, and they couldn't do anything.

"Dickas, what's wrong with you?"

Harry noticed something strange about me.

Stepping back a little, he looked at me suspiciously.

I opened my mouth, and I couldn't even speak.

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Everyone thought I was dumb, and they kept trying to communicate with me, trying to let me learn to speak again, and I opened my mouth symbolically to let them see that I was trying to regain my health... Actually I don't want to, I don't want to talk to anyone, I don't want to move even a finger, I hide in the dormitory day after day, being a worthless snail, waiting for the death penalty to come like an old man.

—Of course I can't wait.

I am still alive and well, but I waited for the summer vacation of the first school year. In the past two days, Harry often sneaked into the Ravenclaw dormitory to accompany me wearing an invisibility cloak. Outside the lounge, Mandy ran to pick him up after thinking about it.It was extremely difficult, but he still persisted. When it was time to get on the train home this time, he tried to persuade me to let me lie on his back and let him carry me all the way back.

This was of course rejected by me.

In fact, it's nothing, but it's just that I don't have a father, and I didn't have one before, so it's no big deal.

I myself am wondering what I am so depressed to this point.

It's like schizophrenia, one is doubting his own state, and the other is continuing to yell that life is tasteless.

It's as if... all of a sudden, I don't have any goals to pursue in my life, and I don't know what I will continue to struggle for next.

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The home was still decorated for Christmas, and we had fun at that time, and no one was willing to throw away the ribbons that had been put up so hard.Now, after more than half a year, the ribbons and Christmas trees are full of dust, old and dilapidated, and they no longer have the brightness of the time.Mr. Locke, too, was covered in dirt, still sitting on a chair at the dining table, looking ridiculous with a thick stack of magazines under his hip.

I took off my shoes and wanted to go upstairs to bed.

Harry suddenly stopped me.

"Wait a minute!" Looking back, he saw only the back of his head running away in a hurry, he rushed all the way into the cupboard, and after a while he staggered back with a lot of small clay figurines in his hands, "I keep all these, I know you I searched for it several times, didn’t you think of it? I hid it in the cupboard.”

I will definitely look at him.

"Why are you not surprised at all... I saw that you searched for it several times, and thought you still wanted..." He paused, looking at me expectantly, "Dickas, I really like you Clay figurines, can you give me two more? Last time you said you would teach me how to make Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

He was still holding my big jar of ooze.

I reached out and took out a ball, quickly squeezed out one and threw it to him, then turned around and wanted to continue upstairs.

...It looks very indifferent, impatient and even annoying. Only Merlin knows how panicked I am now. I am afraid to face Harry. He still has his own courses at school, and he can give me a breather Opportunity, but now I will spend a whole holiday with him day and night...

"I have had enough of you!!"

The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles that had just been squeezed were thrown from behind and fell to the ground and shattered into a pile of clods of different sizes.

I stopped abruptly, and it took all my strength to hold back the feeling of turning around and hugging Harry, and stood still on the spot.

Harry cried and scolded behind me: "Do you think you are the only one who is pitiful? You look like you are dying every day, isn't it just that you can't talk? Everyone is trying to help you restore your voice, but you don't see it. Work hard, if you want to give up, you can do whatever you want, whoever you want to show your stinking face!"

...I never thought that Harry saw me like this in the past two days.

He cried very sadly, sobbed constantly, and couldn't catch his breath several times, "I met Voldemort, who should I tell? Everyone calls me the savior, the hero, and the parents of the heroes were killed by Voldemort." Hey! Don’t you think the hero is very pitiful?! I met Voldemort, he was disgusting and scary, but I still had to face him, past, present, and future, I don’t even know how many times I will see him It’s okay, I don’t know if I’m so lucky that I won’t die every time, who am I going to make a fool of myself with!”

I want to explain, to tell him that it's not that I can't speak, that I'm not depressed because of it, that I have my reasons, that I'm...

I'm……

What should I tell him?

Can't say anything.

Closing my eyes tightly, I imagined how aggrieved Harry was crying behind me. His thin body shrank from the excitement of crying, his shoulders shrugged, his small nose was red and red, and his eyes were swollen like Like a big fresh walnut, the glasses that don't quite fit him will slide down and almost fall on the nose when crying, but he forgets to lift it up every time...

I can imagine.

How he kept looking at me, expecting me to turn around and comfort him, to explain to him, to apologize, to make an effort even if he couldn't speak...

In the end, how did I run out of the house crying without turning around, and slammed the door hard, making a loud noise...

I can imagine.

Looking back at the empty living room, tears welled up involuntarily.

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No matter what, I couldn't be relieved. Not long after Harry went out, I put on my shoes again and followed him out.

Just turning around and closing the door, I got kicked hard on the buttocks.

"Finally willing to come out, you!"

I waited for him to make up a few more feet to vent, turned around and hugged Harry into my arms, and heard him cry sadly, calling my mother over and over again-he told me in the medical room that he was there He saw a lot of people in front of a strange mirror, they all had Harry's features, the most prominent of which was the man and woman standing beside him, one of them had Harry's green eyes, and the other had the same hair as Harry's. Too docile black hair.

Harry said he knew right away that it was his parents.

He misses his mom and dad, just like I want to find my mom and dad, and in some ways, we're really alike.

I ignored Harry's protests, picked him up and carried him to the bedroom on the second floor, covered him with the quilt, and then went downstairs to find a few eggs and a few slices of bread from the refrigerator, brushed them with butter, and stuffed them with fried bread. The golden egg was placed on a plate and served to Harry.

"Dickas." Harry didn't sleep, "I've always had the feeling that your voice isn't bad, right? Why don't you want to talk?"

I can't tell, maybe I'm angry, or maybe I'm tired of something, tired of something...

I still don't say anything.

I saw the disappointment in Harry's eyes, and I didn't know if it was to himself or to me.

He turned around angrily, curled up like a shrimp with his back to me, and wrapped the quilt up to the top of his head.

Sighing, I picked up the empty plate that I had finished eating, and exited our room very lightly, closing the door behind me.

Putting down the dishes, I walked back to the living room and stared blankly at the decoration of the whole house. I picked up the broom and the trash can and began to climb up and down to tidy up. I did a thorough cleaning like never before—in this house, perhaps This is the first time I think of cleaning it—the air is full of dust, and I feel like I'm dying of coughing, but I still insist on cleaning it again, and cleaning it up...

I don't know what else I can do after I've done this, I can only do it over and over again, like a collector cleaning an antique, cleaning it with the utmost care...

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Volume Two