On the second day of the Christmas break, on the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle, Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster, was sitting on a rattan chair next to his desk, next to which were placed two umbrella-shaped lamps that emitted a faint glow, but also illuminated almost every corner of the room.

He squinted slightly, enduring the accusations of a portrait chatter.

The ancestor of the Black family, Phineas, the former Headmaster of Hogwarts, was now asking Dumbledore in a loud and poignant voice, "You brought this thing to the Headmaster's office, what the hell are you trying to do? Dumbledore!"

If someone else had been present now, he might not have the slightest doubt that the man in the portrait would jump out of the frame at any moment.

"I believe Dumbledore had his own reasons. A portrait next to him also opened his eyes at this time, and dissuaded Felix on the side.

The portrait depicts a kind-looking and wealthy middle-aged woman, dressed in a large, ornate lady's wizard's robe, inlaid with a variety of mysterious-looking patterns.

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

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

Dumbledore then casually walked to the back of the door, on a high gilded perch, his pet phoenix was sleeping on it, Dumbledore stretched out his wide and somewhat wrinkled palm, and a faint blue flame suddenly rose from the palm, Fawkes seemed to smell something, suddenly opened its eyes, meekly stretched its head over, opened its mouth, and swallowed the fireball.

After a satisfying hiccup, it let out a soft, trembling chirp and spit out a little white mist.

At this moment, there was a sudden knock on the bronze door of the headmaster's office, and Dumbledore's hand, which was stroking Fawkes's head, suddenly froze, sighed silently, and then quickly returned to normal.

"The password is chocolate baby, Harry. Dumbledore said in the direction of the doorway, full of breath, and walked a long way.

With a creak, the monster guarding the door downstairs jumped aside, the wall split in half, the door opened, and Harry followed the spiral staircase all the way up, then gently pushed open the door with a brass knocker in the shape of a sphin.

"It's cold," the thought crossed Harry's mind as soon as one of his feet stepped into the room, "Hogwarts can't have air conditioning, can it?" he thought.

"Professor?" asked Harry, tentatively, slowly walking to the other end, surveying his surroundings, where the silverware that should normally sit in the corners of tables and bookshelves for smoke decoration seemed to be stored in boxes, and none of them were visible, and the portrait hanging on the wall was now sleeping peacefully and peacefully.

Dumbledore walked out from behind the door with his hands behind his back at this time, "Hello, Harry. A tired smile erupted from his old face.

"Sit down, Harry, I came to you just to talk to you. Dumbledore said kindly, beckoning, and a chair "whoosh" into Harry's body with a precise "whoosh".

Harry sat down, his heart was constantly beating, he felt 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, and now it was a little strange at best.

"Well, Harry, I just came to you this time to talk about the pain of your scars. Dumbledore then took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on.

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

"Don't be surprised, your godfather was so worried about you that he revealed something to me not long ago, and I hope you don't blame him, and I guess you're about to come to me, so I simply called you over first to talk. ”

"It doesn't hurt that much. Harry said confidently, hoping not to worry Dumbledore so much.

Because in this way, he feels like a "porcelain doll", he has to be protected by others at all times, and he desperately wants to prove himself.

After being expected unrealistically high, responsible people will desperately try to meet the expectations of others, and Harry hopes that he can make the name "Savior" more or less in line with himself.

"Don't underestimate any of the little things, it can be a sign of something big, for example, if your scar suddenly starts to hurt in the middle of a game, it can be fatal, Harry. Dumbledore said with concern, "I heard you're fainting?"

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

Harry suddenly felt that he had become foggy, his eyelids became heavier, and he wanted to get a good night's sleep, but suddenly there was a cold touch that penetrated into the bone marrow.

Harry closed his eyes and sat down in his chair, his hands waving wildly, his mouth muttering, "It's cold, it's cold." ”

"It's going to be okay soon, Harry, bear with me. Dumbledore's broad voice kept coming to his ears, and Harry tried to open them, only to find that his eyelids were now frighteningly heavy, like lead.

A sense of despair crept over him, so sudden and urgent, he hadn't had such an experience in a long time, the last time it seemed to be in the third year, at that crucial Quidditch match, he had encountered a Dementor.

"Dementors?" Harry's consciousness seemed to struggle, the chair beneath him began to shake desperately, "Divine ......" Harry subconsciously grabbed his wand, hoping to use the Patronus Charm to drive the abominable creature away.

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

"Forgive me, Harry. Dumbledore's hand was now holding his wand a little tremblingly, and he stared at the boy in front of him with a complicated expression, and the boy's face looked pained at this time. It was as if he was suffering greatly.

Why? Because a Dementor was now floating behind Harry's chair, and it leaned down, its rotten, scabbed palms firmly gripping Harry's shoulders.

Even though the doors and windows were closed, the worn cloak still fluttered, and the cold air in front of the headmaster's room was brought by this evil creature, and at Dumbledore's behest, this evil creature had been floating on the top of the ornate ceiling, hiding its form.