One evening a few days later, Harry, Ron, and Ginny lined up by the fireplace in the kitchen to return to Hogwarts. Pen % fun % Pavilion www.biquge.info

The Ministry of Magic arranged for this temporary Floo network connection to get the students back to school safely. Since Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Bill, and Fleur all went to work, only Mrs. Weasley sent them. Mrs. Weasley shed tears during the separation.

Undoubtedly, Mrs. Weasley has been particularly sentimental lately; Ever since Percy rushed out of the house on Christmas Day, wearing glasses splattered with parsnip root juice, Fred, George, and Ginny had all claimed credit, and she would cry every now and then.

"Don't cry, Mommy," Ginny patted Mrs. Weasley on the back, whimpering as she leaned on her daughter's shoulder. "It's okay......"

"yes, don't worry about us," Ron gave his mom a heavy kiss on the cheek, "and don't worry about Percy." He's a big fool, and that's really not a loss, is it? ”

Mrs. Weasley cried even more when she hugged Harry.

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself...... Don't get in trouble......"

"I've always been, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "I like a peaceful life, you know me."

She smiled with tears in her eyes and stepped aside.

"Behave well, all of you, ......then," Harry shouted as he stepped into the emerald flames, "Hogwarts!" ”

A brief last glance at the Weasley's kitchen and Mrs. Weasley's tear-stained face, before being engulfed in flames; He spun around quickly, his eyes vaguely flashing past the other wizards' rooms, but before he could see clearly, he was gone; He then slowed down, eventually stopping safely in the fireplace of Professor McGonagall's office.

Professor McGonagall barely lifted her eyes when he crawled out of the fireplace.

"Good evening, Potter. Try not to bring the ashes to the carpet. ”

"Okay, Professor." Harry straightened his glasses and wiped his hair as Ron spun out of the fireplace. When Ginny came out, they left Professor McGonagall's office and headed for the Gryffindor Tower. Harry glanced out of the hallway window as he passed; The sun had sunset over the horizon, and the ground was covered with snow thicker than the Burrow's garden. He could see from afar that Hagrid was feeding Buckbeak in front of his hut.

"Clown cane," Ron said confidently, as they walked over to the fat lady, her face looking paler than usual, startled by Ron's loud voice.

"No," she said.

"What do you mean by 'no'?"

"A new password," she said. "Please don't shout."

"But we're going home, how could we-?"

"Harry! Ginny! Hermione hurried over to them, her face flushed, her cloak, hat, and gloves.

"I only came back a few hours ago, and I just went to see Hagrid and Buck -- I mean Weatherwin," she said breathlessly. "How are you having Christmas?" Oh, wait a minute - password. On the wagon. ”

"Correct," said the fat lady feebly, opening the portrait to reveal the portrait hole.

"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked.

"Apparently indulged in the Christmas season," Hermione rolled her eyes and led the way to the packed common room. "She and her friend Violet drank all the wine in the painting, the one in the hallway of the Charms classroom downstairs, the 'Drunken Monk'. Anyway......"

She rummaged through her pockets for a moment and pulled out a roll of parchment with Dumbledore's handwriting on it.

"Great," Harry quickly untied it, discovering that Dumbledore's next lesson was scheduled for tomorrow night. "I've got a lot of things to tell him -- and you. We sat down and said—" But suddenly there was a loud scream, "Wow-wow! Lavender Brown sprang over from nowhere and threw himself into Ron's arms.

A few people next to him laughed eatingly; Hermione smiled crisply, too, and said, "There's a table here...... Come here, Ginny? ”

"No, thank you, I said I'm going to meet Dean," but Harry couldn't help but notice that her voice wasn't very enthusiastic.

Leaving Ron and Lavender, who were in a stand-up wrestling match, Harry led Hermione to the empty table.

"How's your Christmas going?"

"Oh, good," she shrugged. "Nothing special. How are you doing in your 'wow-wow' home? ”

"I'll tell you right away," Harry said. "Hermione, you can't-?"

"Yes, I can't," she said flatly. "So don't do it in vain."

"You know, I thought I had a Christmas break—"

"It's the fat lady who has drunk a barrel of wine that's been made for five hundred years, Harry, not me. What important news do you want to tell me? She looked so fierce that Harry knew he wasn't arguing with her at this point, so he recounted to her what he had overheard the conversation between Malfoy and Snape.

When he had finished, Hermione sat there and thought for a moment, then said, "Don't you think—?" ”

"--He's pretending to help Malfoy so he can trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing-?"

"Well, yes," Hermione said.

"Ron's dad and Lupin both thought so," Harry said reluctantly. "But it must prove what Malfoy was planning, you can't deny it."

"Yes, I don't deny it," she replied slowly.

"And he's doing what Voldemort orders, like I said!"

"Hmm...... Which of the two actually mentioned Voldemort's name? Harry frowned, trying to remember.

"I'm not sure...... Snape must have said 'your master', so who else could it be? ”

"I don't know," Hermione said, biting her lip. "Maybe his father?"

She stared at the other end of the lounge, clearly lost in thought.

"How's Lupin?"

"Not too good," Harry said, telling Hermione about Lupin's mission in Werewolf and the difficulties he faced. "Have you ever heard of this Finley Greyback?"

"yes, I've heard of it!" Hermione was taken aback. "You've heard of it, Harry!"

"When, in History of Magic class? You know very well, I never listen to ......."

"No, no, it's not the history of magic - Malfoy used him to threaten Bogin!" Hermione said. "In Tumbledown Alley, don't you remember? He tells Borgin that Greyback is an old friend of their family and will check on his progress! ”

Harry looked at her dumbfounded. "I forgot! But this proves that Malfoy is a Death Eater, otherwise how could he contact Greyback and tell him what to do! ”

"This one is rather suspicious," Hermione whispered. "Unless ......"

"Oh, come on," Harry said angrily, "you can't avoid it! ”

"Hmm...... It could just be a threat out of thin air. ”

"You just don't want to believe it, you just don't want to," Harry said, shaking his head. "Wait and see who's right...... You'll be mistaken, Hermione, like the Ministry of Magic. Oh, and I got into a fight with Rufus Scrimgeur......"

The rest of the night was spent peacefully in a shared insult to the Ministry, and Hermione, like Ron, thought it was brazen for the Ministry of Magic to come and ask for help after treating Harry like that last year.

The new semester that began the next morning was a surprise for the sixth graders: a large notice had been nailed to the bulletin board in the common room last night.

Apparition Training: If you are a seventh-year student, or if you are seventeen years old by August 31, you are eligible to participate in a twelve-week apparition training course taught by a Ministry of Magic instructor.

If you would like to participate, please sign your name below.

Cost: 12 Galleons.

Harry and Ron joined the crowd as they registered their names one by one below. As soon as Ron, who was behind Hermione, took out his quill, Lavender quietly appeared behind him, secretly blindfolded him, and said in a tactful voice, "Guess who I am, whoa-whoa?" ”

Harry turned to see Hermione striding away; He didn't want to be with Ron and Lavender, so he caught up with Hermione, and to his surprise, Ron caught up not far from the portrait hole, his ears red, and he didn't look very happy.

"So—the apparition," Ron's tone was clear, and Harry didn't mention what had just happened. "It should be fun, huh?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "Maybe it's better when you do it yourself, I didn't feel too comfortable when Dumbledore took me with me."

"I forgot you already did...... I'd better get through it the first time," Ron looked anxious. "Fred and George are."

"But Charlie didn't succeed once, did he?"

"yes, but Charlie is bigger than me," Ron stretched out his arms like a gorilla, "so Fred and George didn't keep nagging about that...... Anyway, not in front of him......"

"When can we take the actual test?"

"It's enough to be seventeen. For me, it's just March now! ”

"Yes, but you can't apparilate here, not in the castle......"

"It's okay, isn't it? Everybody will know that I can do it if I just want to apparition. Ron wasn't the only one excited about the prospect of apparitions. There were people everywhere talking about this upcoming course that day; There seems to be a strong appreciation for this ability to disappear and reappear at will.

"That's cool, if we could-" Seamus snapped his fingers to represent the disappearance. "My cousin Fergus used to harass me with this trick, and I'll do it later...... He's never going to be at peace......" He was in a state of anticipation, his wand swinging was a little too frenetic, the goal of the Charms class was to conjure up a stream of pure water, but his wand spewed out something like a rubber hose, bounced off the ceiling and hit Professor Flitwick in the face.

"Harry has apparitioned," Ron told a somewhat embarrassed Seamus after Professor Flitwick waved his wand to dry him and punished Seamus for writing sentences. "Deng -- uh -- somebody took him to do it. Attachment manifestation, you know. ”

"Wow!" Seamus whispered, and he, Dean, and Neville leaned their heads closer to hear Harry describe what it felt like to apparition. For the rest of the day, Harry was surrounded by a crowd of other sixth-year students who asked about the apparition's apparition sensations. Despite how uncomfortable he told them about the apparitions, they seemed to be in awe more than they gave up, and until 10 o'clock, when people kept asking him questions about the details, he had to lie that he needed to go to the library to return a book in order to get out of time for Dumbledore's class.

The lights in Dumbledore's office had been lit, the portraits of the former Headmasters were snoring softly in the frame, and the meditation basin had once again been placed early on Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore placed his hands on either side of the meditation basin, and his right hand was as black as before. It didn't look any better, Harry guessed for the hundredth time what caused such a particular injury, but he didn't ask; Dumbledore had said he would find out after all, and that he had another topic he wanted to discuss with Dumbledore anyway. But before he could say anything about Snape and Malfoy, Dumbledore spoke first.

"I heard you met the Minister of Magic during the Christmas holidays?"

"Yes," Harry said. "He doesn't really like me."

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed. "He doesn't like me either. But we can't be depressed in pain, Harry, but we have to keep fighting. ”

Harry grinned.

"He wanted me to tell the wizarding public that the Ministry of Magic was doing a great job." Dumbledore smiled.

That was Fudge's idea at first. In the last few days of his tenure, in order to keep his position at all costs, he sought to meet with you, hoping that you would give him some support—"

"After all that Fudge did last year?" Harry said angrily. "After the Umbridge affair?"

I told Cornelly that it was impossible, but that thought didn't go away with his departure. We met a few hours after Scrimgeour took office, and he asked me to arrange for you to meet with him—"

"That's why you're arguing!" Harry blurted out. "It's in the Daily Prophet."

"The Daily Prophet must have reported the truth once in a while," Dumbledore said. "Maybe it was just an accident. Yes, that's why we quarrel. However, it seems that Rufus finally found a way to stop you. ”

"He accused me of being 'Dumbledore's man from head to toe.'"

"Then he's so rude."

"I told him I was."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something, but closed again. Behind Harry, Fawkes let out a low, gentle, melodious chirp. He suddenly realized that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes looked a little moist, and he felt a pang of extreme embarrassment, so he had to quickly stare at his knees.