Chapter 917 Dating

I have to admit that this made Harry suspicious, and it was in a bad direction.

Now, Harry's scar hurt almost non-stop. When he was upset or happy about something that happened to him, his scar would hurt especially.

This gave Harry a terrible feeling that he was slowly becoming an antenna for Voldemort's mood swings, and he was certain that this increasingly serious situation was definitely in his brain from the first class with Snape. The beginning of Occlumency lessons.

To make matters worse, he dreamed almost every night that he was running down the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries, a dream that culminated in him standing in front of the dark door.

"Maybe it's like a disease," Hermione said, listening with great concern as Harry told her. "It's like a fever or something. It gets worse before it comes back."

"Being in classes with Snape also made it worse," Harry said weakly. "The scar hurts so bad and I'm tired of running down that corridor every night." He rubbed his forehead angrily. "I just wish that door would open and I wouldn't have to stand there staring at him—"

"That's not interesting," Fan Lin said helplessly. "In fact, Dumbledore didn't want you to dream about that corridor at all, otherwise he wouldn't have asked Professor Snape to teach you Occlumency. Although it is difficult, Harry, this is very important to you. importance."

"I'm learning!" Harry said angrily. "You should go try it...Snape wants to get into your head - this is no joke, you know!"

"Maybe," Ron said slowly.

"Maybe what?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"Maybe it's not Harry's fault that he can't turn off his mind," Ron said grimly.

Suddenly Fanlin's heart skipped a beat, what did Ron notice?

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe Snape doesn't really want to help Harry." Everyone stared at him. Ron looked at them both sullenly and meaningfully. "Perhaps," he added, his voice low, "what he actually wanted to do was to open Harry's brain a little more, making it easier for You-Know-Who to..."

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione said angrily, "How many times have you doubted Snape? How many times have you been right? Dumbledore believed him, he worked for the Order of the Phoenix, and that was enough That explains the problem.”

"He used to be a Death Eater," Ron said stubbornly, "and we have no evidence that he actually changed sides."

"Dumbledore believed him," Hermione repeated. "If we can't trust Dumbledore, there's no one else we can trust."

This made Fan Lin breathe a huge sigh of relief. He thought Ron had noticed something. In fact, Ron was not stupid at all. When he really thought about it...

However, it must be admitted that this happens to Ron very rarely.

With so much to worry about and so much to do... fifth graders have so much homework, often going into the middle of the night, as well as D.A.'s secret meetings and ordinary wizard level tests. Exams, and in Harry's case, Snape's regular lessons...

Without anyone noticing, January passed so quickly.

Before anyone knew it, February arrived, bringing with it warm, humid weather and news of a second visit to Hogsmeade.

In fact, Harry had rarely had time to talk to Qiu since she invited her to the village, and now he suddenly realized that he was about to spend a whole day with her on Valentine's Day, but he still didn't know what to do. …

On February 14th, Harry was particularly careful when dressing up.

He and Ron went to have breakfast just as the owl arrived with a message. Hedwig wasn't in there... Harry thought she would come... but Hermione received a letter from a strange brown owl.

"Almost no time! If you don't come today." She said, eagerly tearing open the letter and pulling out a small roll of parchment. Her eyes moved from left to right, a happy expression on her face as she watched.

"Listen, Harry," she said, looking up at him, "this is very important. Can you meet me at the Three Broomsticks at noon today?"

"Well, I don't know," Harry said uncertainly, "Cho might want me to spend the whole day with her, we haven't discussed what we're going to do yet."

"You'll take her with you if that's the case," Hermione said eagerly, "But you're coming?"

"Well, okay, but why?"

"I don't have time to tell you. I have to reply quickly." She rushed out of the hall, clutching the letter in one hand and a piece of toast in the other.

"And you, Fan Lin, don't eat anymore, hurry up..."

When Fan Lin put down the things in his hands in a hurry, he also secretly used magic to take away a few slices of bread. Hermione's excitement was written on her face, but Fan Lin didn't think it was worth meeting Rita. An exciting place.

He was so busy that he almost forgot about Rita.

"Don't worry, I will help you on today's date..." As he said that, Fan Lin didn't forget to give Harry a knowing look.

"Are you going?" Harry asked Ron as he watched the two people leave, but he shook his head gloomily. "There's no way I'm going to Hogsmeade, Angelina made us train all day as if that would help, we're the worst team I've ever seen. You should go see Slop and Colin, It’s so pathetic, worse than me.”

As he said that, Ron sighed heavily, "I don't understand why Angelina doesn't let me quit."

"Because you're so good when you're playing properly, that's why," Harry said testily.

He found it difficult to sympathize with Ron's condition, especially when he was willing to give up almost everything to compete in the upcoming match against Hufflepuff. Ron seemed to notice Harry's tone. He didn't mention Quidditch again for the rest of the breakfast. Later, when they parted, the two briefly said goodbye in a somewhat cold tone.

Ron went to the Quidditch pitch, and Harry, after using a teaspoon as a mirror to smooth his hair, went alone to join Cho Chang in the foyer, worried and wondering what they would say.

She was waiting for him by the oak door. She had her hair in a long braid and looked very pretty. As Harry walked toward her, he felt as if his feet were holding him back, and he was horrified to find that his arms were dangling stupidly by his sides.

"Hi," Qiu said a little breathlessly.

"Hi," Harry said. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Harry said, "Uh-uh-let's go, then?"

"Oh, okay." They joined the waiting team, and Filch was taking notes one by one. Their eyes occasionally met, and then they smiled at each other, but no one spoke.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped out into the fresh air, realizing that even walking in silence was better than standing there stupidly.

The air outside is fresh and the breeze is blowing. As they passed the Quidditch pitch, Harry saw Ron and Ginny flying past the stands, and he felt a pang of discomfort. He wished he could train with them.

"Are you really not able to participate?" Qiu asked. Harry turned his head and found her looking at him.

"Yes," Harry sighed, "I can't."

"Remember the first time we fought, in third grade?" she asked.

"Yes," Harry smiled, "you always get in my way."

"And during the Quidditch World Cup, do you remember, we also saw Krum, and then he showed up at school."

"Oh, I see you too, remember? We're in the same camp. The World Cup is awesome, right?"

They talked about the World Cup all the way out of the gate. Harry couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to her - in fact, it was no more difficult than talking to Ron and Hermione - and he began to cheer up and feel more confident.

At this time, a group of Slytherin girls passed by them, including Pansy. Parkinson.

"Potter and Zhang!" Pansy screamed, accompanied by a mocking smirk, "Ah, Zhang, I think there is something wrong with your taste. At least Digory is prettier!"

The group of girls walked over, looking back at Harry and Cho exaggeratedly and screaming, leaving them in awkward silence. Harry couldn't talk about Quidditch anymore, and Cho, blushing slightly, looked at her feet.

"So, where do you want to go?" Harry asked Cho as they entered Hogsmeade. The street was full of students wandering around, looking at the shop windows, and it was very chaotic.

"Oh, I don't care," Qiu shrugged, "How about we go to the store or somewhere else to take a look?"

Go forward. There was a huge notice posted on the glass outside, and some people in the village were looking at it. They dispersed as Harry and Cho walked over, and Harry realized that he had seen the photos of the ten escaped Death Eaters. This notice, "Orders from the Ministry of Magic," offers a reward of one thousand galleons to any wizard who can provide clues about the escaped prisoner.

"It's quite strange, isn't it?" Qiu whispered, looking at the Death Eaters in the photo, "Remember when Sirius Black escaped, Hogsmeade was full of dementors looking for him? But now ten The Death Eaters are gone, but there's not a Dementor here."

"Yeah," Harry looked away from Bellatrix's face and looked down the street, "Yeah, it's a bit incredible."

He was not sorry that there were no Dementors around, but what he was thinking about now was what their absence meant. Not only did they allow the Death Eaters to escape, but they also refused to hunt for them. It seemed very likely that they had escaped the control of the Ministry of Magic.

Pictures of the ten Death Eaters were plastered on the windows of every shop. When Harry and Cho passed by the Honeydukes candy store, it started to rain, and big raindrops hit Harry's face and neck.

"Well, would you like a cup of coffee?" Qiu asked tentatively, as the rain started to fall harder and harder. "Okay," Harry looked around, "Where is it?"

"Oh, there is a very good place here. Have you been to Mrs. Puddifu's teahouse?" Qiu said happily, taking him to a side road and walking into a small teahouse. That was Harry's teahouse. A place I've never noticed. It was small and steamy inside, and everything was decorated in a way that reminded Harry of Umbridge's office.

…

"What are you doing?" Hermione looked at Fan Lin speechlessly.

"I think it's a little dry here." Fan Lin looked seriously until he stood up, and then watched Harry enter Mrs. Puddieffe's teahouse. When Harry turned his head, he hurriedly hid aside, which made Harry Min seemed to have a headache.

"Oh, I said, Fanlin..."

"Hey, don't think so," Fan Lin put his hand on Hermione's back, "Didn't the two of them go in?"

"So, you taught Harry?"

"What?"

"How to communicate." Hermione said a little badly, "What is more sensitive and what cannot be said..."

"Uh..." Fan Lin thought carefully, "Harry should have something in mind, or maybe we should go over and have a look, and then I will take you to apparate back to the Three Broomsticks?"

…

"Very cute, right?" Qiu asked happily.

"Uh, yes." Harry lied. In fact, he couldn't see what was good about it at all. It always reminded her of Umbridge, who ruined a color series by herself.

"Look, it's specially decorated for Valentine's Day!" Qiu said, pointing to some golden little angels, which were hovering above each small round table, throwing some pink ones to the people below from time to time. Confetti.

"Ah—" They sat down at an empty table, next to the steamy glass. Roger. Davis, Ravenclaw's Quidditch captain, sat at the table a foot and a half away, next to a pretty blonde, and they held each other's hands.

This scene made Harry a little uncomfortable, especially when he looked around and found that there were all pairs of couples here, all holding hands. Maybe Cho also wanted him to hold her hand.

"What do you want, dear?" asked Mrs. Puddieffe, a very stocky, squat woman with shiny black hair, who was struggling to squeeze between their table and Roger's.

"Two cups of coffee, thank you," Qiu said. Before the coffee came, Roger Davis and his girlfriend started kissing over their sugar bowl. Harry really hoped they wouldn't do this. He felt that Davis was setting an example, and maybe Qiu would ask him to follow it later. However, he was vaguely looking forward to it. Fan Lin was right, maybe Autumn can be...

Harry felt his face starting to get hot and tried to turn his gaze out the window, but the moisture on the windowpane was too heavy and he couldn't see the street outside at all. In order not to look at Qiu, he looked towards the ceiling, as if to check the paint on it, and was sprinkled with confetti on his face by the hovering little angel.

The door opened again, and Harry felt that the figure was familiar, but he didn't dare to look back at me. The atmosphere here made her look a little embarrassed... (To be continued)