bacchusnovels Chapter 359 He was holding a knife
Chapter 359 He was holding a knife
Chapter 359 He was holding a knife
Only one person did not participate in the celebration.
Hermione was sitting in the corner, engrossed in a thick book, "Domestic Life and Social Habits of British Muggles," her expression focused and indifferent.
In the Great Hall, Fred and George were juggling butterbeer bottles, and the other students were laughing heartily. However, Harry's gaze fell on Hermione in the corner, and he couldn't help but walk over.
"Didn't you go to watch the game?" he asked her softly.
"Of course we went," Hermione replied without even looking up, her voice sharp and deliberately cold. "I'm so glad we won, really."
Harry, you did a fantastic job. She paused, turning a heavy page, "but I have to finish this book by Monday."
"Come on, Hermione, come and have something to eat," Harry urged, glancing at Ron over there.
Ron has been saying for days that he wants to find an opportunity to apologize to Hermione.
Today, at this time, could be a very good opportunity.
Ron seemed to notice Harry's gaze as well. He hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath, and finally put down his cup, walking towards Hermione.
As he slowly approached, Harry felt secretly pleased with his courage.
"Hermione." Ron cleared his throat, his voice slightly unnatural. "Listen—I want to say that what I just said—and what I said before—maybe a little—not very pleasant to hear."
Hermione finally looked up at him, but her eyes were somewhat distracted. Her fingers continued to trace the pages of the book, and she simply nodded perfunctorily, "Um, it's okay." Her tone was indifferent, as if she didn't care about the apology.
Ron was clearly embarrassed. He stood there scratching the back of his neck, as if he wanted to say something more, but faced with Hermione's cold attitude, he didn't know how to continue for a moment.
"I'm just really sad about what happened to Scabbers." Ron's voice lowered, but there was a hint of sincerity in his words. "I know you didn't want that to happen either, I just shouldn't have kept taking my anger out on you."
Hermione listened, her brow furrowing slightly, her expression becoming somewhat complicated.
She looked up from the book, sighed softly, seemingly moved, but her eyes still held some unspoken thoughts.
"Ron, I understand how you feel," she replied softly, her voice tinged with weariness. "It's just—sometimes you make me feel like no matter how hard I try, I can't meet your expectations." Her voice was gentle, yet it carried a hint of grievance.
Ron was stunned when he heard this, and he finally realized how much pressure he had unintentionally put on Hermione.
He opened his mouth, a hint of regret in his expression, "I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't expect you to think—you know, I've always thought you were amazing."
Hermione smiled slightly, looked up at Ron, and her grievances seemed to have quietly dissipated in his sincere apology, and a smile slowly appeared on her lips.
"Thank you, Ron," Hermione said softly, her tone much gentler than before.
Harry felt a surge of warmth and relief as he watched them reconcile.
He gave them an encouraging smile and called out, "Alright, you two should come and have something to eat. Today is a day to celebrate our victory, and we can't leave you out."
The group exchanged smiles, Hermione closed her book, and walked to the dining table with Ron and Harry.
Fred immediately offered her a slice of pumpkin pie with enthusiasm, saying playfully, "Here, Hermione, have a taste! The celebration wouldn't be complete without you." Hermione smiled and accepted the pumpkin pie, about to express her gratitude, when George seized the opportunity to raise a glass of butterbeer. "Cheers to Gryffindor!" he shouted, prompting everyone else to raise their glasses in response.
"Cheers!" Everyone cheered in unison, the atmosphere was relaxed and joyful, and laughter echoed throughout the auditorium.
Hermione took a bite of the pumpkin pie and found it sweeter than usual. Perhaps it was because the knot in her heart had finally been untied, or perhaps she had forgotten about the request she had made of Daphne. Even the sweetness felt exceptionally satisfying.
At one o'clock in the morning, Professor McGonagall finally appeared at the door wearing a plaid dressing gown and her hair tied in a hairnet. She insisted that everyone go to sleep, which gradually calmed down the Gryffindor revelry.
Harry and Ron reminisced about the game as they went upstairs together.
Exhausted, Harry climbed into bed, drew the curtains of the four-poster bed to block out the moonlight, and as soon as he lay down, he felt himself almost immediately fall into a deep sleep.
He had a strange dream. He was carrying a fire crossbow, walking through a forest, when a silvery-white creature followed him.
The silver shadow flashed through the trees, and Harry chased after it with all his might, quickening his pace, and the silver shadow moved faster and faster. He began to run, hearing the hoofbeats ahead accelerating rapidly. He sprinted with all his might, hearing the hoofbeats become a running rhythm. Finally, he burst out of the woods and into a clearing—"Ah!—No!—!"
Harry woke up with a start, his chest heaving as if he had just escaped a chase.
He groped aimlessly through the darkness, still enveloped by the tense atmosphere of the dream. The voice of Seamus Finnigan echoed in his ears from the other end of the room.
"What's going on, Harry?"
Harry thought he heard the dormitory door slam shut.
He finally found the opening of the tent and pulled it open.
Just then, Dean Thomas turned on the light.
Ron sat on the bed, one side of the curtains taut, his face contorted with fear.
"Black! Sirius Black! He's holding a knife!" Ron stammered.
"What?" Harry was taken aback.
"Right here! Just now! He stabbed Wei Zhang with a knife, which woke me up!"
"Are you sure you're not dreaming, Ron?" Dean asked doubtfully.
"Look at the tent! I told you, he was right here!" Ron's voice grew increasingly urgent.
Everyone scrambled out of bed, and Harry was the first to rush to the dormitory door. They hurried down the stairs.
Behind them, doors opened one after another, and a sleepy voice followed them, asking:
"Who's shouting?"
What are you doing?
In the common room, the embers of the fire still glowed faintly, and the party items were scattered around in a mess; the room was deserted.
"Are you sure you're not dreaming, Ron?"
"I'm telling you, I saw him!"
"What's all this noise coming from?" a voice interrupted.
"Professor McGonagall told us all to go to bed!"
Several girls came downstairs, wrapped in their morning coats, yawning. The boys also gradually arrived.
"Great! Shall we continue the party?" Fred Weasley said excitedly.
"Everyone upstairs!" Percy hurried into the common room, pinning his student council president badge to his pajamas as he spoke.
"Percy—Sirius Black!" Ron said tremblingly, "right in our dorm! With a knife! He woke me up!"
The common room fell silent.
"Nonsense!" Percy exclaimed, stunned and surprised. "You ate too much. Ron must have had a nightmare—"
"Let me tell you—"
"Enough, enough, stop talking!" Professor McGonagall returned at that moment.
She slammed the portrait door shut, went into the common room, and angrily looked around.
"I'm glad Gryffindor won, but this is just too much! Percy, I was counting on you to keep everyone in line!"
"This wasn't approved by me, Professor!" Percy's chest heaved with anger. "I was just about to call them to bed! My brother Ron had a nightmare—"
"It wasn't a nightmare!" Ron shouted. "Professor, when I woke up, I saw Sirius Black standing by my bed with a knife in his hand!"
Professor McGonagall stared at him in surprise.
"Don't embarrass yourself, Weasley. How could he possibly pass through the portrait hole?"
M
"Ask him!" Ron pointed a trembling finger to the back of Sir Cadogan's portrait. "Ask him if he saw it—" Professor McGonagall gave Ron a suspicious look, pushed the portrait aside, and went outside.
People in the common room held their breath and waited quietly.
"Lord Cadogan, did you let a man into the Gryffindor Tower just now?"
"Of course, Your Excellency!" Sir Cadogan's voice was loud and confident.
A stunned silence fell over the common room. "You—you actually did this?" Professor McGonagall stammered. "But—but what about the password?"
"He has the password!" Sir Cadogan said smugly. "This is the password for this week, my lady! I read it from a little note!"
Professor McGonagall emerged from the portrait hole and faced her students, who were staring blankly at her. Her face had turned as pale as chalk.
"Who was it?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Which complete idiot left this week's passwords lying around everywhere?"
In the silence, a small, hesitant voice broke the silence.
Neville Longbottom slowly raised his hand, his body trembling from head to toe, appearing extremely nervous.
That night, no one slept in the Gryffindor Tower.
They knew the castle was being searched, and all the students were in the common room, anxiously awaiting news of Blake's capture.
At dawn, Professor McGonagall returned with bad news—Blake had escaped again.
The next day, they noticed that security measures had been strengthened everywhere.
Professor Flitwick stood guard at the castle gate, scrutinizing a large photograph of Sirius Black; Sirius, disguised as Filch, was extremely busy, running back and forth in the corridors, blocking every possible opening, from the smallest crack in the wall to a mouse hole, to prevent himself from sneaking into Hogwarts through any of these gaps.
Sir Cadogan was dismissed, and his portrait was returned to the desolate stairwell on the eighth floor.
The fat lady has also returned. After being repaired by experts, she is still neurotic and demands special protection before she will return to her post.
But... what kind of special protection is there?
Hogwarts is currently severely understaffed—as evidenced by Sirius being asked to arrest himself.
So Professor McGonagall hired a group of burly monstrous security guards to protect her. They patrolled the corridors in groups of three or five, looking fierce and loud, comparing the size of the clubs they carried.
But actually, Harry, who was passing by, thought that the size of the clubs they were holding didn't matter much—any one of them could smash him into a meat patty.
He noticed that the one-eyed witch statue on the fourth floor was still unattended and not sealed off.
Right now, only they (Ron, Hermione, and Sophia) know that there is a secret passage there.
"Do you think we should tell someone?" Harry asked Ron.
“We know he won’t come in from Honeydukes,” Ron said dismissively. “If he breaks into the candy store, we’ll be informed.”
Harry was glad that Ron thought so too.
If the One-Eyed Witch's passage is also blocked, he will no longer be able to go to Hogsmeade.
Ron became famous overnight, receiving more attention than Harry for the first time in his life.
Ron really liked this feeling.
Although he was still shaken by what happened last night, he was always happy to recount his experience in vivid detail whenever someone asked.
"I was sleeping when I suddenly heard a tearing sound. I thought I was dreaming, you know? But then a cold wind blew in. I woke up, and one side of my bedsheet was ripped off. I turned over and saw him standing in front of me... like a skeleton, with a huge tuft of filthy hair, holding a really long knife, probably twelve inches long. He looked at me, I looked at him, and then I screamed, and he ran away."
"But why?" Ron asked Harry, just as a group of second-year witches who had just walked away overheard his story.
Why did he run away?
Harry was also thinking about this question.
Why didn't Black kill Ron to silence him after going to the wrong bed, and instead went to find Harry?
Twelve years ago, Blake proved he didn't care about killing innocent people; this time he faced five unarmed boys, four of whom were still asleep.
"He probably knows that once you get up and wake everyone up, it'll be harder for him to leave the castle," Harry said thoughtfully. "He'll have to kill every student in the house to get out through the portrait hole...and then he'll run into Dumbledore..."
'
Neville was utterly humiliated. Professor McGonagall was furious with him, forbidding him from ever going to Hogsmeade again, putting him in solitary confinement, and forbidding anyone from telling him the password to enter the tower.
Poor Neville could only wait outside the common room every night, hoping someone would let him in, while the monstrous security guards mocked and jeered at him.
Compared to the punishments his grandmother gave him, these were nothing.
Two days after Black broke into the tower, she sent Neville the most terrifying thing a Hogwarts student could receive at breakfast—a roaring letter.
The school owls flew into the auditorium as usual, bringing mail.
Neville was so startled that he almost gasped for breath when he saw a huge barn owl land in front of him with a large red envelope in its beak.
Harry and Ron, sitting opposite him, immediately recognized it as a shouting letter—Ron's mother had sent him one last year.
"Run, Neville!" Ron warned.