Harry Potter’s Book of Sin

“Professor Snape?”

In the no-man’s corridor, Snape and Marx step forward in tandem. On the way, Marx only shouted, seeing that Snape didn’t respond, and he didn’t say more, just keep up with his steps.

Judging by the route of travel, Snape should take him to the headmaster room.

When the two came to the front of the headmaster room by rotating the escalator, Snape paused and then pulled out wand and clicked on the tightly closed door.

Soon, with a burst of mechanism light sound, the door of the headmaster room, which was clearly locked, opened wide.

Seeing Snape take a step and go inside, Marx immediately followed. Just as soon as he stepped on the floor of the headmaster room, his gaze was attracted by a smoldering scarlet red.

It was Phoenix Fawkes, and as usual, he stood on the bird’s stand as usual, bowed his head carelessly, and gently arranged the feathers under his wings with its pointed tips.

I have been used to Fawkes’ Marx, but this time I stared at it and looked a little more, and there was a strange expression on my face.

“Professor Snape, it’s all here, should you say something?” Marx turned his head and looked at Snape, who was standing against his head at the headmaster’s desk. “The next few days will definitely It will be very busy, you know it too.”

“Ah.”

Snape lightly snorted, then turned around and handed the small glass tube to Marx.

“Dumbledore asked me to give this to you.”

Marx hearing this, reached over and looked at it.

In the small glass tube, some pure silver flocs were found inside and wrapped around.

“This is… memory?”

He has never seen such a materialized memory, so it seems hesitant.

“Probably!” Snape said faintly. “Dumbledore didn’t leave any explanation.”

“Professor…” Marx shook the glass tube and looked up at Snape. “How did Dumbledore’s death come back… No, I want to ask, is Dumbledore dead?”

“Did you not check it yourself?” Snape did not give a positive answer.

“But—” Marx looked at the Phoenix Fawkes on the shelf and looked at the glass tube in his hand, frowns. “Before that, I also vaguely felt that Dumbledore took another step on the magic road. …how could he be like this…”

“I am clear about the reasons for his death. It is nothing more than trying to convey his own death.” Snape said casually. “You are not stupid. Should you be able to figure it out?”

As a result of Snape, Marx was thoughtfully nodded.

The death of Dumbledore is quite awkward for everyone. This is true for yourself, and for the outside world.

Don’t look at Voldemort’s so easy to say in the stone chamber, but if someone asks him, dare not attack the Hogwarts castle now? He might have shot the idiot asking the question the first time.

Whether Albus Dumbledore is dead or alive, he is enough to dare to shake, this is the powerful power accumulated by the greatest white wizard of the present.

Seeing Marx thinking about it, Snape waved his hand and then pointed to the glass tube in his hand.

“As for his real thoughts, I have never been able to figure it out anyway. I want to say… you should first look at what he left for you! Maybe there are clues, isn’t it?”

In fact, as soon as I mention Dumbledore’s topic, Snape will be quite impatient.

Although he is indeed a double-faced spy on Dumbledore’s side of Voldemort, he and Dumbledore are just that’s all maintained through a deal.

Now that Dumbledore is dead, Snape’s thoughts are even more complicated.

“…also.”

Marx licked the glass tube in his hand and gently sighed it, then walked straight to the cabinet where the meditation basin was placed.

“After reading, I will come to my office,” Snape said as he walked to the door. “Speak here, I am not comfortable.”

Looking at the door of the headmaster room slowly closing, Marx shook his head slightly and then reached out to open the door.

The silver light of the meditation basin quickly popped out of the cupboard. Marx unplugs the oak plug from the glass tube and pours the pure silver floe inside, and slams the palm of his hand over the shallow basin.

The flocs quickly melted silently under the action of magic power.

When Marx saw it, he immediately bowed his head and plunged his face into the silver-like mist.

……

hazy.

What Marx first felt was a kind of shackle like steam or a fog.

Nothing can be seen clearly, nothing can be touched.

He can’t feel his weight, and there is no feedback from all kinds of senses. Only “feeling” can clearly reveal his own existence.

Suddenly, he felt as if he had “seen” what it was – it was a silhouette of a faintly discernible, coming slowly towards him.

Step by step, not too slow, as if doing a purposeless journey.

With every step of the silhouette, the kind of “朦胧” around him will flow and gather into a real scene.

This is in Marx’s “vision”, as if I saw an extremely wide oil painting, slowly approaching him. In the dreamlike oil painting, every oil paint is constantly extending and spreading.

As the scene became more complete, Marx soon discovered it, a western street covered in a thin layer of snow.

The weather seems to be nighttime, the streetlights along the streets are lit, and the faint rays of light are much brighter under the reflection of snow.

On both sides of the street, most of the houses with the patchwork were closed, and even the curtains were not opened.

As Marx looked at the more complete scene in front of him, the illusory silhouette gradually became clearer.

Long white whiskers, silver-gray and robes, wrinkles and vicissitudes of the face… and the pair of blue eyes that are always hidden behind the half-moon lens.

“Professor Dumbledore?”

Marx wanted to talk, but found that she couldn’t find her mouth at all.

Dumbledore came slowly and stood before Marx’s consciousness.

“Marx, you are here…”

He smiled and opened his mouth, but on Marx’s side, he only felt that Dumbledore’s voice was directly in his consciousness.

“How, is this place wonderful?” Dumbledore said softly. “You don’t have to talk… because you can’t say it, I can’t hear it…”

“I know you have a lot of problems, but those are not important… well, at least for me, it doesn’t matter anymore…”

“Because, your embarrassment with everyone, and your efforts for those embarrassments, so that I can do it myself – that one who knows ‘selfishness’.”

The words of Dumbledore’s words, Marx is understandable.

Because of the existence of Marx, Dumbledore finally has the freedom to continue to realize the true meaning of magic, and smoothly went one step further.

“This irresponsible old man!”

After thinking about this, Marx couldn’t help but want to turn his eyes to him.

“You heard me say this, you must be a little angry? This is of course, then…” Dumbledore had a naughty smile on his face, and he paused to continue. “So, I tentatively tell you a first.” The thing that I want to understand most at the moment…”

“Well, if I got it wrong, don’t blame me…” Dumbledore said with a smile. “Yes, for you, I’m already ‘dead’ and I’m already dead ‘transparent’.”

“But for me, I obviously haven’t ‘dead’… or, from the real ‘death’, there is still a long way to go!”

Marx heard a glimpse and then immediately “looked” around. There is no difference between the surrounding scene and the “reality” in his cognition. There is no such thing as a name.

“Limbo?”

In Marx’s consciousness, a strange and familiar vocabulary flashed past.

Among the magic circles, there has been no such word since ancient times. This is a complete muggle word. The so-called spiritual prison can be interpreted as “the edge of hell”, the closest to death.

But Marx doesn’t know that the concept itself is actually derived from the magic circle.

“I don’t understand, it doesn’t matter. I am calling you this time, just to introduce you to this place…” Dumbledore whispered. “Remember the words I have been emphasizing? For a wizard, death is just another A great adventure.”

“I have been looking for the door to the ‘adventure’, but there are some things in my heart that always make me unable to relieve…”

Dumbledore said, just like looking at Marx, looking at him.

“But Marx, your appearance made me gradually understand, the silky shackles, but I am bothering myself. Looking at every step you take, watching you go all the way without leaving nostalgia, I know where I am wrong.”

“So now, I am on my way again – I am not entangled in the past mistakes, no longer blaming Ariana for the death, no longer regard Ariana’s wishes as my own wishes…”

“So, I can finally retire.”

The “Ariana” in Dumbledore’s mouth is his younger sister who has long since died.

Although Marx also knew that Dumbledore had been regretting things for the past, he did not expect that strong and profound self-blame was the direct reason for him to become the Hogwarts headmaster.

“I and Ariana love the whole world, but I always understand that my “love” is never the same form.”

When he said this, Dumbledore seemed to be so eager to fly, as if the old looks were younger than a few decades old.