novelcrest Chapter 325 Lu Ping's Return
Chapter 325 Lu Ping's Return
Chapter 325 Lupin's Return
For Harry's safety, McGonagall sent him to Madam Pomfrey.
Mrs. Pomfrey naturally allowed him to stay in the school hospital for a few days of observation—Harry neither argued nor complained, and just lay on the bed staring blankly out the window.
People came to see him in droves, all eager to cheer him up. Hagrid brought a bunch of snail-like flowers that looked like yellow cabbages; Ginny Weasley, blushing, brought a homemade wish-for-recovery card that kept singing in a high-pitched shrill voice, which Harry had to weigh down with a fruit bowl. The Gryffindor team came to visit him again on Sunday morning, and this time Wood was there too, saying in a hollow, dull voice that he didn't blame Harry at all.
The four boys therefore changed their meeting place to the medical room, and only disbanded at night.
No matter what others say or do, it doesn't make Harry feel any better because they only understand half of his troubles.
Every night, when Harry closes his eyes, that piercing cry echoes in his mind again—"Don't touch Harry, kill me, kill me!" Those voices make his heart feel as if it's being squeezed tightly by an invisible hand, making it hard to breathe.
He knew it was his mother's voice, her last stand for him before she died.
Harry couldn't shake off these painful memories, and no one could understand his suffering. No matter how hard his friends tried, the companionship of the other three children brought Harry a slight warmth, but it couldn't dispel the lingering shadow deep within his heart.
Hermione sat beside him, reading a book and occasionally handing him a cup of hot tea; Ron chattered on about the strategies and progress of the Wizard Killing Contest; Sophia occasionally chimed in with a few teasing remarks, trying to cheer him up.
However, whenever night falls and the surroundings quiet down, those screams would once again invade his mind.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, her face full of worry. She had noticed Harry's low spirits but had no way to comfort him.
"It's nothing," Harry replied softly, forcing a smile. He didn't want his friends to worry about him, but the burden in his heart grew heavier. He knew they cared about him, but they didn't understand—no one truly understood the pain of losing parents, especially one like he had.
By nightfall, Harry was the only one left in the ward.
The night outside the window deepened, and raindrops pattered against the glass. His thoughts were once again drawn back to that night; the chill brought by the Dementor seemed to have never left, lingering around him.
"Don't touch Harry, please, don't touch him—"
His mother's voice echoed over and over again, and Harry involuntarily gripped the sheets, his body trembling slightly. He tried to close his eyes tightly, attempting to silence the sounds, but they only grew clearer.
Just then, the door to the ward was gently pushed open.
"Harry?" It was Professor Sean's voice, deep and gentle.
Harry opened his eyes and saw Professor Phillips standing in the doorway, holding a steaming cup of black tea, with a hint of worry in his eyes.
"I think you might need to talk to someone." Sean came in, sat on the chair by the bed, and handed Harry the hot drink.
"I—I'm fine," Harry replied hoarsely. "You don't need to push yourself." Sean's voice remained gentle. "Dementors bring more than just cold; they instill the deepest fear and despair. I know what you're going through."
Harry lowered his head, his fingers gripping the cup tightly. He had so much to say, but he didn't know where to begin.
"You heard her voice, didn't you?" Sean asked softly.
Harry's throat tightened, and he nodded, his eyes welling up with tears. "Yes—I heard it. My mother's voice, begging them not to hurt me."
"That must have been very painful." Sean nodded, his eyes showing understanding. "But you must understand, it wasn't your fault." "But I—" Harry's voice trembled. "I should have saved her. I should have done something."
"You were just a child then, Harry," Sean said, his tone still gentle but firm. "You couldn't control any of that. Your mother loved you, she would have given her life for you, but she wanted you to live, to live strong."
Harry's tears finally fell. He tried to be strong, but the memories were too heavy.
"You don't have to bear this pain alone." Sean reached out and gently patted Harry's shoulder. "You still have friends, you still have us. Don't let the pain of the past consume you. Your parents gave you the chance to live with their lives."
Don't let them down.
Harry's eyes welled up with tears, and he nodded, his voice choked with emotion, as if a long-forgotten knot in his heart had finally been untied.
A long-lost, faint sense of comfort rose in his heart, and the pain and burden that had been suppressed for so long seemed to be soothed by Sean's words.
"Have some hot tea," Sean said with a smile. "You need to rest; you'll feel better tomorrow."
Harry carefully sipped his hot tea, the warm liquid sliding down his throat and dispelling the chill in his body and heart.
The fear that had kept him uneasy all night gradually subsided with the warmth of the hot drink.
"Why are they going to the Quidditch pitch?" Harry looked up, his voice filled with confusion. He still couldn't understand why the Dementors would suddenly appear on the Quidditch pitch.
"They're hungry." Sean's voice was low and calm, with a hint of undisguised resentment. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their prey supply has dried up. I think they can't resist the temptation of the huge crowd around the Quidditch pitch. That excitement—it's a feast for them."
Harry was silent for a moment, his eyes filled with complex emotions, as if trying to understand that chilling presence.
He murmured softly, "Azkaban must be terrifying."
Sean shook his head. Based on his experience in Azkaban, it was hard to say that it was terrifying, but people like him were a minority, so he explained.
"The fortress was built on a lonely island in the vast ocean, but it didn't need high walls or seawater to imprison people, because the prisoners were imprisoned in their own minds, unable to evoke even a single thought of happiness. Most of them went mad after a few weeks."
Harry seemed thoughtful, then slowly said, "But Sirius Black dodged them? He escaped—"
'
“Yes.” Sean sighed softly, straightened up, and frowned slightly. “Blake must have found some way to fight them. I thought it was impossible. It’s said that Dementors can drain a wizard’s magic if he spends too much time with them.” He paused, as if thinking, and then added, “It is indeed a mystery.”
Harry stared at Sean, a thought suddenly popping into his head. He whispered, "Professor, you used the Patronus Charm to drive them away. Can you teach me?"
Sean raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, but it quickly turned into understanding and relief.
He looked at Harry, nodded slightly, and smiled, saying, "Of course, if you'd like."
On Monday, Harry returned to the noisy and busy school, though he had to endure Draco Malfoy's taunts.
After Gryffindor's defeat, Malfoy became overjoyed. He finally removed his bandages and, to celebrate being able to use both arms again, kept imitating Harry's wolf-fox stunt of dropping his broom.
During their next Potions class, Malfoy spent most of his time in the underground classroom imitating Dementors; Ron finally lost his temper and threw a huge, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, hitting him squarely in the face. As a result, Snape deducted fifty points from Gryffindor's score.
To the surprise of all the young wizards, Professor Lupin returned.
Professor Lu Ping's return was so quick and so unexpected.
The young wizards meant that they were happy Professor Lupin was back.
"How did he recover so quickly? I thought he would need at least a week to recover!" Ron couldn't help but exclaim.
"I heard he came back a while ago," Hermione said mysteriously, "but he only resumed classes today."
Everyone was talking about Lupin's health. Some speculated that he had drunk a particularly potent potion, while others guessed that he had found some new treatment. In short, everyone was filled with anticipation and couldn't wait to see their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
However, when the young wizards finally saw Professor Lupin again, they found him still as gentle as ever, though his face was a little pale, he seemed to be in good spirits.
Just as the students crowded around Lupin, bombarding him with all sorts of questions, Hermione squeezed in, carrying a huge stack of papers, clearly out of breath.
This is the assignment Professor Phillips gave in the last class—a paper on how to identify camouflage and defense.
She carefully handed a thick stack of parchment to Professor Lupin.
"Professor, these are the papers we wrote in the last class," Hermione said breathlessly. "Professor Phillips had us write them while you were away."
Lupin showed a hint of surprise when he saw the pile of papers, but quickly regained his composure and accepted the assignments with a relieved smile. "Thank you, Miss Granger. Everyone seems to be working very hard." He flipped through the top few rolls of parchment and nodded.
"Professor, what do you think of our writing?" Ron couldn't help but ask, his face full of anticipation.
"I believe you've all done very well," Lupin said with a smile. "However, I still need to take a closer look at these assignments."
Only then can I give an evaluation. Don't worry, it won't be too difficult.
Hearing this, the students all breathed a sigh of relief, and the classroom was once again filled with a relaxed and cheerful atmosphere. Harry stood at the back, watching this familiar scene, and gradually relaxed as well.
However, time continues to move forward unnoticed, and in the blink of an eye, November has already reached its middle.
Despite many unsolved mysteries, Harry has recently received a series of good news.
First and foremost, what excited him and his Gryffindor teammates the most was the Ravenclaw match at the end of November.
Ravenclaw's victory over Hufflepuff in a fierce battle means Gryffindor still has a chance to win the Quidditch Cup.
Although they are still under a lot of pressure, as they cannot afford to lose any more games, at least they have not been completely eliminated, which undoubtedly relieves Wood and the entire Gryffindor team.
"We still have a chance, Harry!" Wood said excitedly to Harry, his face regaining its determination and passion. "As long as we give it our all and don't make any more mistakes, we can definitely turn things around!"
Harry responded to Wood's enthusiasm with a smile. Although Quidditch was one of his favorite sports, the pressure on him came from more than just the competition on the pitch.
Another piece of news that brought Harry some relief came from Professor Phillips.
During a Muggle Studies class, Professor Phillips approached Harry and whispered, "I think we should begin your Patronus Charm training, Harry."
Harry's heart skipped a beat. The Patronus Charm—it was the only magic he had ever heard of that could effectively ward off Dementors.
These words were like a ray of light shining into the darkness in his heart; he knew that this would be his only hope in fighting the Dementors.
"Really, Professor? When does it start?" Harry could hardly believe his ears, his eyes sparkling with excitement and anticipation.
"After Christmas." Sean nodded, his expression gentle but his tone serious. "However, I must remind you, Harry, it won't be easy. The Patronus Charm requires a strong will and extremely positive emotions. You must be mentally prepared for this training."
Harry nodded firmly, a determination rising within him.
The Patronus Charm is not only for self-protection, but also to prevent being controlled by the terror of Dementors the next time you face them.
He recalled the experience of falling during a Quidditch match; the chilling cold and the scream in his head made him realize that he had to become stronger.
As time passed, the November wind grew increasingly biting, and a thin layer of frost and snow covered the ground outside the castle.
However, a new fighting spirit was ignited in Harry's heart.
He not only had to win every Quidditch match for Gryffindor from now on, but also had to start training for the Patronus Charm at the end of the month—everything seemed to be going in the right direction.
However, one question lingered in Harry's mind:
How did Ravenclaw defeat the mighty Hufflepuff?
After all, Hufflepuff's new captain, Cedric Diggory, is not only calm and collected but also an excellent Seeker. His ability is beyond doubt, especially in bad weather, where his advantage is even more obvious.
This question baffled Harry. To unravel this mystery, let's rewind to the preparations for the duel two weeks ago.