Aurora had always felt that it was hard to find anything more terrifying than snakes. But it was not until she saw the dead body of the Red Mangoras sentry in that place that she realized she had been mistaken.
It's true that snakes are scary, but the dean of snakes is even scarier.
Crouching on the rocks, she watched cautiously but restrained as Severus Snape took the tail-whistle off the red snakes. His movements were so skillful that they reminded Avrora of some kind of scalpel, so sharp and precise that there was no unnecessary movement.
It seems that Severus Snape was right. It was not him who had to apologize, but the MANGULAS sentry who had died all over the place.
Aurora withdrew her gaze, focused on the cranberry in her palm, and then struggled to get up. She limped to the edge of the grass and placed it back where it belonged. There is no wood hemlock in the forest, it can only stay here.
The Cranberries remained where they were for a moment, then they clamped Aurora's fingers between their claws and shook. They disappeared into the grass.
"Let's go," Severus Snape said, turning to Avrora. "To the hospital."
"Saint Mungo?" Aurora asked.
"Or what? The School Hospital?" Severus Snape asked sarcastically, glancing at her.
"I don't want to go to Saint Mungo. It's just a scratch," Aurora said, pulling her torn pant leg down. "I'll just go back and rub it with alcohol and anti-inflammatories, really."
Looking up into Severus Snape's unwavering dark eyes, Avrora touched the tip of his nose and quickly looked away, "Saint Mungo is too expensive, professor. I don't want to put half my salary into it. I just want to go back to my place and eat and sleep. It's not a serious injury."
Following Severus Snape's gaze, Avrora saw a bruised patch of skin on his shins, a bit of a bloody horror.
"I think... Ok," she muttered. The pain was painful, but obviously hunger was more important.
"Where do you live?" He asked.
"Just take me to the leaky cauldron," Aurora replied. "I can take the bus across the street from the bar.".
Severus Snape pocketed the snake whistle and disappeared into the hazy blur of the apparition, carrying the aurora with him.
Aurora opened her eyes in a familiar sense of asphyxiation and oppression, and the pain in her calf began to get hotter. Then she realized it wasn't the leaky cauldron, and certainly not the bus stop.
It was a completely unfamiliar room, with a familiar faint smell of potions and old books.
Her first feeling was cold, and then she was a little surprised by her senses, because it was July. But in fact, the room felt a sharp coldness, from ceiling to floor, from overall tone to detail.
The walls of the room had apparently not been repainted for a long time, and a faint yellow trace had grown along the edges of the lime-plaster void, becoming the only color on the dull, pale walls. The light was dim, and the room was gray, with dark curtains blocking out the limp streetlights.
The tall bookshelf was black, and the books stuffed on it were almost black. There was also the desk, coffee table, back chair, and so on that were stripped away from the wooden core. They were almost all dark gray and plain black. Even the tall glass upside down on the porcelain plate was filled with a hazy, dim light.
Just looking at it makes one feel breathless.
Aurora also found that, except for the book, there was only one item of the same Kind-a Cup, a chair, a China Plate. You won't find anything superfluous or decorative in this room, which has no warmth or softness to speak of.
Apparently, the owner lives alone, single, loves books, loves potions and is indifferent to home aesthetics. Aurora has seen this kind of similar decoration style in the magazine, they are concise and restrained, bright and bright colors are all rejected, from beginning to end revealed a kind of cool thin depressed.
Folk called it, frigid decoration.
But here, should be"Decadent depreciation of frigid decoration" just right.
She turned to look at Severus Snape. It was easy to guess that this was his home. It's so iconic.
Before she could sit for long on the sofa, which was shaped like a spring and could be clearly felt under the cushions, she saw the door open again and Severus Snape come in with a couple of bottles of potions and a roll of bandages.
After performing a cleaning spell, Severus Snape used a knife to cut the pant leg fabric that had adhered to the wound, sterilized it, and wrapped it in white gauze.
"Thank you, Professor." Aurora tried to move her legs, and the cool potion extinguished the flames of the wound.
Severus Snape continued to apply the potion to her palm, and calmly asked, "Be thankful for your own luck and let them just chase you down and not kill you."
"It is," Aurora said, touching the tip of her nose habitually. Severus Snape glanced at her and continued, "What happened?"
"I fell down and they came over and I thought I was really going to die," Avrora said, shivering and shaking her head, her face pale. "It was just like my dream. It was horrible."
"Dreams?"
"Oh, I had a dream like that once. To be honest, it was awful when it came true."
"Why do they chase you but not attack you?"
"Well... I don't know. It could be a gift or, as you say, I'm Lucky."
Severus Snape stopped what she was doing, looked at her and asked, "What did you do?"
"Me? I didn't do anything." Aurora looked at him blankly, then looked away for a moment. It took a lot of courage to look Dean Slytherin in the eye, which was never her strong suit.
Severus Snape looked at her for a moment, then asked, "Did you hear anything?"
"What?"
"The voices of others."
He's talking about the voice from António de Oliveira Salazar's diary? !
Aurora felt a chill run down her spine and looked away. She really wanted to act like she didn't know, but she was a terrible actress and she knew it all too well. So she looked around in a daze, then closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, I didn't hear anyone. I don't think there was anyone else there."
"What the hell are you looking at?" Severus Snape was keen to catch the shifting gaze. "No, I'm just sleepy," Aurora said, rubbing her eyes.
Severus Snape studied her for a moment, then pulled back a fake smile and said, "Good night in advance, Sweet Dreams?"
The man's deliberately slow tone sounded so sweet and hostile that Avrora cringed and gave a little shiver of respect.
It was nearly 9:30 in the evening when they returned to their quarters. Mr. Hawthorne and his wife were still in the living room. The couple were startled to see Aurora come back wrapped in white gauze. Aurora explained that she had fallen on her bike on the way back and was saved by her teacher at school.
"Anyway, it's over," Aurora said with a shrug and a smile.
"Be careful next time," Mrs. Hawthorne said, carefully helping her to the sofa and setting her purse aside. "What if something does happen?"
The bag was slanted so that everything inside slipped out. Severus Snape glanced at it intently. There was nothing special about it. There was no notebook.
Just the usual stuff, like a folding umbrella, a Jane Austen novel, a beginner's Guide to wooden guitar, two quills, and a head rope.
He withdrew his gaze and left quickly.
...
Aurora finished her late dinner and quickly packed her satchel. She inched into her room and began to brush her teeth and wash her face. The experience of the evening in the Agritt Forest was still fresh in my mind, and the snake's body temperature and appearance were still vivid, except that her face was very pale in the mirror.
She chewed on a mouthful of foam and a toothbrush and looked at her leg and left hand. Her body was sticky and she wanted to take a shower.
When the switch is turned on, hot water comes out of the faucet and gradually fills the bathtub. Aurora dipped herself in, her long, pale blond hair floating weightless on the water like golden seaweed. She draped her injured calf over the edge of the bathtub and let the warm water envelop her, soft as a mother's embrace.
She lay with her eyes closed for a long time, and soon she felt the drowsiness creeping in, and she struggled to her feet and dried herself with a towel, and changed into her nightgown, and draped her long, wet hair over her shoulders to separate it from her clothes, sit on a stool.
Outside it began to rain, Quiet Night Only the sound of the rain in the echo, falling on the windowsill in the light of the lamp as bright as diamonds, blossoming broken open. As she waited for her hair to dry, Avrora listened to the late-night radio on her headphones, which played a modern rendition of the tender Old English folk song Scarborough Fair. The singer's soft and beautiful voice made her stare out into the night, unconsciously humming along.
"Parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme, chasing tits on a brown snow-capped peak... she would be my true love..."
When she opened her eyes and reached into her purse, she saw nothing in the dark green of her diary.
"Mr. Slytherin?" She called.
The diary appeared in a green light, lying quietly in the bag. Aurora took it out, flipped it open, and saw the familiar sliver of paper snake curled up on the page, staring at her with half-open eyes.
"Good evening, sir. Thank you for saving me in the forest," she wrote.
António de Oliveira Salazar caught the sentence with his tail, opened his mouth and bolted it whole, "I don't understand. How can you be frightened by a few mangulas sentry snakes when you have the ability to get close to any magical creatures?"
"... do you have some misunderstanding about the concept of 'several items' ? It's not a few items, it's a piece."
"... what difference does it make?" António de Oliveira Salazar rolled his eyes in horror.
"It might not make a difference to you, but to most people, it makes a big difference. But is that voice yours? I mean, it seems a little too..."
"Too what?" António de Oliveira Salazar stared at her with her head up, the purple letter swaying menacingly, warning her to spill blood on the spot if she said anything.
"Too... Young?"
António de Oliveira Salazar sneered. "How old do you think I am?"
"Weren't you a thousand years ago?"
"Age doesn't change when you leave it in your diary."
"I see..." Aurora continued to rock her pen to the soothing beat of music in her headphones. "How old were you when you left your journal?"
"Eighteen," he answered casually.
So, by the time António de Oliveira Salazar was 18, he had already started Hogwarts with a few other founders? !
Life, Ah, is really more people than death.
Other People's 18-year-old, their 80-year-old can not catch up.
With this in mind, Avrora lamented the difference between men as he ran his fingers through the long, half-dried hairs and shook them out to dry further. "As for your potions professor," António de Oliveira Salazar wrote suddenly, "He is more shrewd than I expected, which is not good for you."
Aurora's mind went blank as she listened to the music. It took her a long time before she replied stiffly, "What do you mean? Does he know anything?"
"Not yet, of course," António de Oliveira Salazar said, pausing for a moment as the flowery print continued to blossom before Aurora's eyes, "But not anymore, I told you. You have your secret, which makes you different from others, or why it makes you different. Just because I see you now and don't ask questions doesn't mean others won't."
Aurora was silent for a long moment. "I see."
"Good night. Don't touch the water until it scabs, but if you enjoy the pain, forget I said that."
"Good night."
Closing the journal, Avrora curled up on the bed with the radio in her arms. Most of her hair was soft and dry again, but the ends were still damp.
She laid herself across the bed, letting her long hair hang down the sides like a piece of silk and spread out on the floor, its accumulated ends curling up like tiny swirls. Aurora closed her eyes. The radio music in her headphones had changed to John Waite's"Missing You," and the sound of the rain slapping leaves was in her ears to the beat of the music, the whole song exudes a kind of straightforward and affectionate love.
Aurora tried to fall asleep, but it was hard. The conversations with António de Oliveira Salazar are still fresh, the memories of Emond, Marianne, Plymouth, Hogwarts, Works, Beverly, Dean Sprout, the Weasleys, and that one opened his eyes to this strange world of confusion and fear.
She found that his mentality has changed a lot, before she always think who they were, where they come from, experienced what. Countless times with his not particularly rich imagination, trying to outline the vague lines, simulation of their own completely lost past.
Every time I realize that I may be discovered to be from another time and space, I feel fear of the unknown consequences.
But now she was thinking more about the people and things around her, the vivid warm memories, the things she loved. She has a deep concern here, can not give up the feelings. She loved everything about it.
She no longer wanted to remember who she was and what she had done because she didn't want anything to disturb her present state. That's the real reason she doesn't want anyone to find out who she is now -- because she loves people who love her, her friends, her parents, her school, and... ... teacher.
It suddenly occurred to her that this was the answer. In the unconscious time, she has actually become and the other people here, hard to live, hard to love. They were no different from the moment she threw herself into the world with her true feelings.
The John Vittel in her ear sang, and Aurora laid her uninjured hand on the sheet to the beat, "Tonight My Heart is frozen like a stone, caught in a storm. When they speak of you, I can't help it just by name."
"I know I've lost this ending. I've lost all hope, but you don't know anything. I've tried my best to get close to you, but I've found that I'm just dust in your world."
"I don't miss you. I'm not fooling myself. I don't miss you anymore."
Aurora sang more and more happy, hand by lamp light in the ceiling than a variety of hand shadow.
The night is warm and cold, good night, all I love you.