94 hp Diagon Alley

situation.Sirius, I need you to go now.You go and inform Remus Lupine, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher—the old men.At your place, I'll be there to connect with you. "

"But—" said Harry.

He wished Sirius had stayed.He didn't want to say goodbye to him so soon.

"You'll see me soon, Harry," said Sirius, turning his head to him, "I promise you. But I've got to do my bit, you understand, don't you?"

"Yes," Harry, "yes...of course I understand."

Sirius shook his hand quickly, nodded at Dumbledore, turned the doorknob, and was gone in an instant.

"Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I'm going to tell you. If you're okay...if you're ready..."

"No problem," Snape said.

His face was paler than usual, and there was a strange light in his cold black eyes.

"Good luck, then," said Dumbledore, watching Snape follow Sirius without a word, with a look of concern on his face.

A few more minutes passed before Dumbledore spoke.

Dumbledore left, and Harry sank limply on the pillow.All the Gryffindors present looked at him.No one spoke for a long time.

"You must drink the rest of the potion, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley at last.When she reached for the medicine bottle and goblet, she gently pushed the bag of gold coins on the bedside table. "Take a good night's sleep. Think about something else for now...Think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!"

"I don't want those gold coins," said Harry flatly, without enthusiasm in his voice. "You take it. Anyone can take it. I shouldn't have won it. It should all belong to Cedric."

At this time, all the emotions that he had been desperately suppressing and restraining since he left the maze suddenly hit his heart, making him unable to control himself.He felt a burning sting in his eye.He blinked hard, staring at the ceiling above.

"It's not your fault, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley softly.

"I told him to come with me to get the trophy," said Harry.

Now that burning sensation was in his throat again.He wished Ron would look away.

Mrs. Weasley put the potion on the bedside table, bent down, and put her arms around Harry.Harry could never remember anyone hugging him like that, like his mother.Everything he had witnessed that night seemed to settle heavily on his mind as Mrs. Weasley held him in her arms.His mother's face, his father's voice, Cedric's unconscious figure, seemed to begin to dance in his mind.In the end, he couldn't take it anymore, and he frowned desperately, trying to suppress the painful roar that burst out of his throat.

Harry drank the potion in one gulp.The effect is immediate.A heavy, irresistible dreamless sleep enveloped him at once; he sank back on the pillow, thinking of nothing.

Regardless of Mrs. Weasley's presence, Gwen lightly rested her head on George's shoulder, and her boyfriend hugged her gently, soothing Gwen up and down.

"Don't be afraid, Gwen, we've got Harry," said George softly.

"Oh," Gwen covered her face in pain, "he's only 15 years old, and that—the mystery man—"

Hermione and Ron also showed deep worry and fear on their faces.Fred put his hand on Ron's shoulder without saying a word.

The air in the ward was filled with anxiety that was hard to ignore. Under the black night sky, the adults and children who learned the truth understood one thing—everything was about to change.

Return trip

Fortunately, Harry's body recovered very quickly.And his fellow patient Cedric, who had been lying in the hospital wing with him for almost a week, still hadn't regained consciousness, but Madam Pomfrey insisted that "no bad news is the best news".

Under the deliberate arrangements of Dumbledore and Sirius, Harry avoided a lot of unnecessary troubles.According to Hermione and Ron, Dumbledore said a few words to the whole school at breakfast that morning.He just asked that Harry be left alone, that no one should ask him questions, or pester him about what had happened that day in the maze.Harry noticed that most people walked around him in the corridors, avoiding his eyes.Some put their hands to their mouths and whispered to each other as he walked by.

"Is everything hidden?" He heard a few whispers as he passed by the classroom.

"George and I put away all the newspapers and magazines we could see in the castle—" Fred was struggling.

George was also out of breath, as if he was lifting something heavy: "Who would believe that those old guys from the Ministry of Magic actually instructed "Wizard Weekly" to write this kind of article."

"Think of Fudge in the hospital wing," said Gwen this time, her voice full of anger and indignation, "he could pretend to be blind in the presence of witnesses—'for the Ministry of Magic's sake." Reputation'. I can see in my hair how the Daily Prophet whitewashes the peace."

Hermione pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet that she had been carrying in her schoolbag, "I check it every day. Only sent a short message the day after the third project that Harry won Triwizard Cup. They didn't even mention Cedric. Didn't say a word about it. I think Fudge forced them to keep quiet."

"Poor Harry," said Ginny, who was crumpling pages of books and throwing them into the fire they had raised in the empty classroom, "he's annoying enough, we can't let him see..."

"... What do you see?" Harry pushed the door open and came in, scaring Ron, who was squatting at the door and tearing up the book as if venting his anger, to fall forward and lie on the ground.

Then Harry quickly rescued a fairly intact report from his arms. It was an article from several days ago, and it came from a familiar name: Rita Skeeter.She only mentioned the performance of the third item in the article, "The boy who survived the catastrophe appeared on the field in a very embarrassing situation, and in his arms was another warrior who had already stiffened (not even mentioned the name) , Harry Potter kept yelling "He's back, You-Know-Who is back. "This makes people have to worry about the boy's mental state again, whether his hallucinations have affected his life, in other words, who was the seriously injured—and possibly dead—another warrior? Attacked? Is it his misfortune, or is it part of Potter's plan?"

Harry was surprisingly steady, he didn't lose his temper, he just smiled self-deprecatingly. "I have to say thank you for your kindness."

The other Gryffindors in the room were startled by Harry's calmness, and they waited silently for Harry's next words.

"You haven't asked me a single question since I got back, which seems very difficult to me." Harry bravely met his friends' eyes with his green eyes.

Fred was the first to agree with him, "Indeed, we're dying of suffocation."

"But I think you should know the truth," Harry said firmly, "Dumbledore told me that understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only after acceptance can recovery be possible." He squeezed his wand tightly , Fingers turned white. "I hope you guys know what's going on, otherwise looking at these things," he pointed to the stacks of newspapers and weekly magazines in the classroom, "how are we going to face the enemy? How are we going to defeat him?"

"I finally understand why the Goblet of Fire chose you, brother." Ron patted Harry's shoulder excitedly, and the weak boy coughed twice.

"There's at least one thing you don't have to worry about, Harry. Rita hasn't written anything since the third project," said Hermione, her voice a little strange as if she was trying to restrain herself. "To tell you the truth," she added, her voice trembling, "Rita Skeeter won't be writing anything for a while. Unless she wants me to spill her secrets."

"What are you talking about?" said Ron.

"I finally figured out how she overheard other people's secret conversations when she wasn't supposed to be in the venue," said Hermione in a breath.

Harry had the feeling that Hermione had been dying to tell them about it these days, but seeing so much going on, she refrained.

"How did she do it?" Harry asked hastily.

"How did you find out?" Ron asked, staring at her.

"Well, actually, you're the one who inspired me, Harry," said Hermione.

"Me?" Harry was confused, "how come?"

"Bugs," said Hermione cheerfully.

"But you said the bug didn't work—" said Fred and George in unison.

"Oh, it's not an electronic bug," said Hermione, "it's like this... Rita Skeeter"—Hermione's voice trembling slightly with suppressed complacency—"she's an unregistered Arnie Muggs. She can become—”

Hermione took out a small airtight glass jar from her schoolbag.

"—into a beetle."

"You're kidding," said Ron, "you didn't... she wouldn't..."

"Oh, yes, that's exactly it," said Hermione happily, waving the glass jar at them.

There were a few twigs and leaves in the glass jar, and a big, fat beetle.

"That's impossible - you're kidding -" Ron whispered, holding the bottle up to his eyes.

"No, I'm not kidding," Hermione said beamingly.