Chapter 1,024 Adventure Observation

"You're late, Potter."

Snape said dryly as Harry closed the door.

Snape stood with his back to Harry, and as usual, carefully removed some memories and placed them in Dumbledore's pensieve. He dropped the last strand of silver thread into the stone basin and turned to face Harry.

"So," he said, "have you been practicing?"

Harry lied, staring intently at one of the legs of Snape's desk.

"Well, we'll find out soon, won't we?" Snape said smoothly. "Get out your wand, Potter."

Harry moved to his usual spot, facing Snape across the table. His heart was beating fast with anger at Cho and fear of how many memories Snape was planning to wrest from his mind.

"Start on the count of three," Snape said lazily, "One -, two -"

The door to Snape's office burst open with a bang, and Draco Malfoy rushed in.

"Professor Snape, sir - oh - I'm sorry -" Malfoy looked at Snape and Harry with some surprise.

"It's okay, Draco," Snape said, lowering his wand, "Potter is here to catch up on Potions."

Harry hadn't seen Malfoy so happy since Umbridge suddenly showed up to scrutinize Hagrid.

"I don't know," Malfoy looked at Harry slyly.

Harry knew he was blushing. He wished he could shout the truth to Malfoy - or, better yet, hex him with a powerful hex.

"Okay, Draco, what's the matter?" Snape asked.

"It's Professor Ibudu, sir - he needs help," Malfoy said. "They found Warrington, sir. He's locked in a toilet on the fourth floor."

"How did he get the lock in?" Snape asked.

"I don't know, sir, he's a little delirious."

"Very well, very well. Potter," said Snape, "we will reschedule the make-up lesson to tomorrow evening."

He turned and strode out of the office. Before following Snape out, Malfoy said to Harry exaggeratedly from behind Snape: "Potions tutorial?"

Harry excitedly stuffed his wand back into his robes and prepared to leave. At least he still had four hours to practice; he knew he should be grateful for his narrow escape from the lesson, even though the price to pay was high: Malfoy would tell the whole school that he needed to take potions lessons.

When he walked to the door of the office, he suddenly noticed: there was a trembling light spot dancing on the door frame. He stopped and stood staring at it, remembering something... and then he remembered: it was somewhat like the light he had seen in his dream last night, the light he had passed through while walking around the Department of Mysteries. The light in the second room.

He turned around. The light came from the pensieve on Snape's desk. The silvery white content was undulating and rotating in the basin. Snape's memory... was something he definitely didn't want Harry to see if Harry accidentally broke through his defenses during practice. Harry stared at the Pensieve, intense curiosity welling up in his heart... What kind of memory did Snape want to hide from Harry so eagerly? Silver spots of light trembled on the wall... Harry took two steps closer to the table, thinking hard.

Could this be information about the Department of Mysteries that Snape was determined to keep from him? Harry turned to look behind him, his heart beating faster and faster than ever. How long would it take Snape to get Warrington out of the toilet?

Will he go back to the office directly afterwards, or escort Warrington to the hospital?

It was obviously the latter... Warrington was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and Snape had to make sure that he was okay.

Harry walked to the table in a few steps and looked down at the Pensieve, staring into its depths. He hesitated, he listened and then drew his wand again. There was silence in the office and at the end of the corridor.

He tapped the contents of the pensieve with the tip of his wand, and the silver object in the basin began to spin rapidly. Harry leaned forward and watched it become transparent.

Once again he looked down into the interior of a room from above, as if looking down from a circular window in the ceiling... In fact, unless he was mistaken, what he was looking at was The room is the auditorium. His breath literally formed a mist on the surface of Snape's memory... His brain seemed to be on the edge of hell... To do something that he was so strongly attracted to do was Very crazy..., he trembled..., Snape would be back at any time..., but Harry thought of Autumn's anger and Mal's mocking face, and a reckless courage seized him.

He took a sharp breath and lowered his face into the surface of Snape's mind.

The floor of the office immediately tilted, tipping Harry headfirst into the pensieve... He fell in the icy darkness, spinning constantly, and then - he stood in the center of the auditorium, but the table of the Fourth House was missing. . Instead, there were more than a hundred small tables, all facing the same direction. At each table sat a student, his head lowered, writing quickly on a roll of parchment.

The only sounds in the Great Hall were the writing of quills or the occasional scrape of parchment as someone changed an answer. Now for the exam, obviously.

Sunlight streamed down from the tall windows and fell on the students' lowered heads. Maroon, copper and gold shone in the bright sunlight. Harry looked around carefully. Snape must be here..., this is his memory...

There he was, at a table behind Harry. Harry stared at him.

The young Snape looked slender and pale, like a plant growing in the dark. His hair was straight and greasy, hanging down to the table, and his hooked nose was barely half an inch from the parchment on which he was writing rapidly.

Harry walked around behind Snape and looked at the question on the exam paper, which read: "Defense Against the Dark Arts - Ordinary Wizards, etc."

So, Snape must have been 15 or 16 at this time, about Harry's own age.

His pen moved rapidly across the parchment; his paper was at least a foot longer than his neighbor's desk, and his handwriting was small and dense.

"Five minutes left!"

The sound startled Harry. He turned around and saw Professor Flitwick's head moving between the desks not far away. Professor Flitwick walked past a boy with messy black hair... very messy black hair...

Harry ran so fast that if he were real, he would have knocked the table away. Instead, like a dream, he glided across two aisles to the third row of tables.

The black-haired boy's back was getting closer and closer... He now sat up straight, put down his quill, and pulled back his roll of parchment so that he could reread his answer...

Harry stopped in front of the table and stared down at his 5-year-old father. Harry's stomach exploded with excitement: it was as if he was looking at a wrong version of himself.

James's eyes are light brown, his nose is slightly longer than Harry's, and there is no scar on his forehead, but they both have the same thin face, the same lips, the same eyebrows; James' hair It was also standing upright behind his head, exactly like Harry's, his hand could be used as Harry's hand, and Harry could tell that when James stood up, their heights were not much different. (To be continued)