Vol 2 Chapter 1024: Risk observation

"You are late, Potter."
When Harry closed the door, Snape said dryly.
Snape stood with his back to Harry, as before, carefully removing part of his memory and placing it in Dumbledore's penis. He put the last bunch of silver thread into the stone basin, then turned to face Harry.
"So," he said, "Did you keep practicing?"
Harry lied, and he stared at one leg of Snape's desk seriously.
"Well, we'll know right away, won't we?" Snape said smoothly. "Take out the wand, Potter."
Harry walked to where he usually stood, facing Snape across the table. His heart was beating fast because of his anger at Cho and worrying about how many memories Snape was trying to grab from his mind.
"Start counting to three," Snape said lazily. "One--, two--"
The door of Snape's office slammed open and Draco Malfoy rushed in.
"Professor Snape, sir--oh--sorry--" Malfoy looked at Snape and Harry with some surprise.
"It's okay, Draco," Snape said, lowering his wand. "Potter is here to make up a little potion lesson."
Harry hadn't seen Malfoy so happy since Umbridge suddenly appeared to examine Hagrid.
"I don't know," Malfoy looked at Harry slyly.
Harry knew his face was red. He wished he could speak the truth loudly to Malfoy—or, better yet, give him a powerful spell.
"Okay, Draco, what's the matter?" Snape asked.
"Professor Imbudo, sir—he needs the help." Malfoy said. "They found Wallington, sir. He was locked in a toilet on the fourth floor."
"Why did he lock it in?" Snape asked.
"I don't know, sir, he is a little delirious."
"Very good, very good. Potter," Snape said, "We will change the time for the make-up class to tomorrow night."
He turned and strode out of the office. Before following out, Malfoy exaggeratedly said to Harry behind Snape: "Potion make up the lesson?"
Excitedly, Harry tucked his wand back into his robe and prepared to leave. At least he has 24 hours to practice; he knows he should be grateful for the chance to escape this class, although the price is high: Malfoy will tell the whole school that he needs to take potions make-up lessons.
When he walked to the door of the office, he suddenly noticed: a trembling light spot danced on the door frame. He stopped, stood there looking at it, remembering something..., and then he remembered: It was a bit like the light he saw in his dream last night, the light he passed through when he walked in the Department of Mysteries. The light in the second room.
He turned around. The light came from the meditation basin on Snape's table. The silver-white content was undulating and spinning in the basin. Snape's memory... that was something he never wanted Harry to see if Harry accidentally broke through his defense during practice. Harry stared at the pendulous pen, intense curiosity welled up from his heart... What kind of memory made Snape so eager to hide it from Harry? The silver spot trembles on the wall... Harry took two steps closer to the table, thinking hard.
Could this be the information about the Department of Mysteries that Snape had decided not to let him know? Harry turned his head and looked behind him, his heart beating faster and faster than ever. How long will it take Snape to get Warrington out of the toilet?
Will he go directly back to the office afterwards, or will he Warrington to the hospital?
Obviously it was the latter... Warrington was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and Snape had to make sure he was fine.
Harry walked to the table in a few steps, looked down at the meditation basin, and stared deep into it. He hesitated, he listened and then drew his wand again. There was silence at the end of the office and corridor.
He used the tip of his wand to lightly tap the contents in the meditation basin, and the silver object in the basin began to spin rapidly. Harry leaned forward and watched it become transparent.
He saw the inside of a room from above again, as if looking down from a round window on the ceiling... In fact, unless he made a mistake, otherwise, he was looking at it. The room is the auditorium. His breathing really formed a mist on the surface of Snape’s memory... His brain seemed to be on the edge of hell... To do such a thing that he was so strongly attracted to do was It was crazy..., he was trembling..., Snape would be back any time... but Harry thought of Cho's anger, thought of Marr's mocking face, and a reckless courage grabbed him.
He took a sharp breath, then plunged his face into the surface of Snape's mind.
The floor of the office immediately tilted, pouring Harry head down into the penis... He fell in a icy darkness, spinning constantly, and then-- he stood in the center of the auditorium, but the table of the Fourth Academy was missing. Up. Instead, there are more than a hundred small tables, all facing one direction. At each table sits a student, head down, writing quickly on a roll of parchment.
The only sound in the auditorium is the writing of a quill, or the occasional scratching of the parchment when someone changes an answer. Obviously, take the exam now.
Sunlight streaming down from the high windows, projected on the students' lowered heads, shining maroon, copper and golden light in the bright sunlight. Harry looked around carefully. Snape must be here..., this is his memory....
He was right there, at a table behind Harry. Harry stared at him.
The young Snape was 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 he was writing on.
Harry walked around behind Snape and looked at the question on the exam paper, which read: "Defense to the Dark Arts-Common Wizards, etc.".
Then, Snape must be 15 or 16 years old at this time, about Harry's own age.
His pen moved quickly on the parchment; his paper was at least a foot longer than his neighbor's desk, and his writing was small and dense.
"Five minutes left!"
The sound shocked Harry ~EbookFREE.me~ He turned around and saw the top part of Professor Flitwick moving between the desks not far away. Professor Flitwick walked past a boy with a black messy hair...very messy black hair...
Harry ran so fast that if he were an entity, he must have knocked the table into the air. Instead, he glided like a dream, passing through the two aisles, to the third row of tables.
The back of the black-haired boy is getting closer... He now sits up straight, puts down the quill, and pulls his roll of parchment back so that he can read his answer again...
Harry stopped at the table and looked down at his 5-year-old father. There was a sense of excitement in Harry's stomach: it was as if he was looking at a wrong version of himself.
James’ eyes are light brown, his nose is slightly longer than Harry’s, and there are no scars on his forehead, but they all have the same thin face, the same lips, the same eyebrows; James’ hair It was also standing upright behind his head, exactly the same as Harry's. His hands could be used as Harry's, and Harry could determine that when James stood up, their height was not much different.
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