MTL - Harry Potter’s Morning Light-Chapter 2710 Land of the Firebirds (18)

  Chapter 2710 Firebird Land (18)

Harry is not a genius, even the silly girl who is most eager to date the "savior" can clearly realize that his talent is more in Quidditch, so the "Witch Weekly" about him The photos are all drenched in sweat just after Quidditch practice.

  He didn't look at the camera with cornflower-colored eyes like Rohart's, showing his white teeth, but looked in a different direction, as if those photos were taken secretly.

Maybe it's the focus on scoring, or being careful not to get hit by the Quaffle, but his expression is so serious that it makes him attractive, or so his admirers think, Hufflepuff's boy They thought he was too "fake and prudish" like that.

   "He wasn't good at potions at all before!" Ernie said angrily to other students who joined the potions club in the greenhouse one after another, "I don't think he is good at anything else except potions now!"

  Others thought so too, as if they had returned to the fourth grade for a while. Originally, the representative of Hogwarts was Cedric, but there was a "fourth champion".

  After getting along for a month, Pomona already knew that the children's reluctance to sign up for advanced potions classes was not because they thought the courses were too difficult and they were afraid that they would not be able to keep up with the progress. They all knew something of Slughorn's style, his slug club and his "collection" on the display rack. For ordinary students who couldn't catch his eye, he didn't even bother to remember their names, let alone devote his energy to them.

  Since the return of the mysterious man has become a fact, and the Potions classroom is next door to Slytherin, those who don't want to cause trouble and really want to learn something have given up the formal courses and spent their spare time in the Potions Club.

   She was more worried about them hurting herself than that they blew up her greenhouse by turning the potion into dynamite because of a mishandling. Twice she asked Severus to come and guide him, but he didn't come, as if he'd been busy with other things.

  Whatever, the key now is for her to find the thief who went to the greenhouse to steal. After the blackroot grass, she has a few pots of precious magic plants that have "disappeared". Maybe she didn't pay attention once and forgot where to put it. So many times, it was obviously not because she was forgetful. Taking advantage of today's Hogsmeade Day, she planned to buy some tools to monitor the greenhouse.

  Although it is mid-October, it has already snowed heavily in Scotland. Even though the glass blocks the biting cold wind, you can still hear the howling wind.

No one wants to practice Quidditch in such a ghostly weather, compared to walking out of the castle, in the warm, butterbeer-scented Three Broomsticks, or spending an afternoon at Honeydukes is a pleasant thing thing.

It's a pity that Zuko's joke shop was closed because their main store in Diagon Alley was attacked, and there was also Ollivander's wand shop. Ollivander is currently missing. If she and Hannah's My mother also encountered an accident, where should the freshmen of the next semester buy magic wands?

   Soon Pomona gave up her plan to go to Hogsmeade and planned to visit Hannah's house. There are some things that cannot be clarified by correspondence alone.

  She boiled some hot water with the magic kettle, and then continued to use the cutting spell to prune the plants. After the water is boiled, a gust of hot air wafts out from the spout, adding warmth to the greenhouse.

  She was humming in a good mood. Just when she was about to go to the preparation room to turn on the radio to listen to the broadcast, the door of the greenhouse was opened, and then closed with a "bang", as if blown by a strong wind.

   "Watch out for my door!" Pomona yelled at the door. "It's made of glass!"

   Then she went about her own business.

  She really didn't expect that there are people who love to study so much and come to practice on weekends.

   When she turned on the radio, she received a lot of Muggle radio stations, which were playing annoying rock music.

  After switching to the wizard radio station, she found that the singer's artificial singing voice did not satisfy her either. So she had to switch from station to station, and when she switched to Toots Sprouts and Roots, she got stuck.

   She still finds the contrived voice better than Toots' western accent, but no matter how hard she turns the knob, it doesn't help.

   So she resorted to the Muggle method, slapping the casing of the radio hard, as if hoping that a couple of slaps would bring it back to normal.

   "If it does break, take it to Arthur Weasley to fix it, you can't fix it like this."

  Pomona looked back and saw the old bat who had been "long time no see". He seemed... not quite the same as usual.

   "Are you just standing there looking at me like this?" He thought he was humorous.

   "Or do you want me to throw myself into your arms?" She said sarcastically, but that's not what she wanted to say.

  She was so nervous that her mind went blank and she didn't know what to say.

   Then he walked in by himself and hugged her.

   "Tired?" She heard his long sigh.

   "On the contrary, I'm free." He said in an emotionless voice, "Like a wrongly filed book in the British Library, it's just a small mistake, but it will be forever forgotten."

   "What did you do wrong?" she asked nervously.

  He didn't answer her question.

   "Is it dangerous?" she continued.

   He let go of his arms and looked into her eyes.

   "I may not be able to spend Christmas with you this year."

   "I know, there is a mission, right?" She said, her eyes gradually moved down, and she noticed that he had changed his tie.

   It was the purple silk tie she had bought long ago in Diagon Alley, and it was almost hidden except for a small corner that peeked out of the collar when he moved.

  He lifted her chin up with his hand, making her look into his eyes.

   "Do you miss me?" He frowned, as if he had taken a very bitter medicine.

The first plants to evolve could have been easily attacked, so they evolved defense mechanisms that included spines, thick shells, and poisonous substances, which was a huge win for them, because animals quickly had The ability to identify and know that some plants are dangerous.

  In order to enhance this ability to recognize poison, animals have also evolved the ability to recognize various bitter chemicals. This bitter taste can stimulate the animal's aversive mechanism, making the animal stay away from them, or spit it out instead of swallowing it.

  Bitter-sensing genes are more in herbivores and almost absent in carnivores, but despite the bitterness of hops, people still drink bitter beer.

  Children often don't like this taste, so the butter beer made by Mrs. Rosta will add moon dew, and then the bitterness "magically" turns into sweetness, not because of the addition of sugar in the beer. That sweet-bitter taste isn't great, at least not as welcome as chocolate.

When little Severus was a little older, he deciphered the secret recipe of the Three Broomsticks and taught it to Pomona so she wouldn't have to walk so far for a butterbeer in rain or snow .

  The hot water she boiled made a harsh sound, reminding her to pay attention.

   But she doesn't use fuel, so even if it boils, there is no need to worry about catching fire.

  She took his hand, squeezed it, and tiptoed a little.

  He immediately hugged her tightly, and the kiss on his lips was also hot, as if it was going to melt the metal.

  She couldn't breathe, maybe because he hugged her too tightly, or maybe he wanted to take her breath away, but just as he was about to unbutton his coat, there was a rapid knock on the door.

   "Professor! Open the door!" Neville's voice sounded a little distorted through the glass, like "The principal is in danger!"

  They both woke up at the same time, although they were both a little short of breath.

   "Stay here." Severus said, then pulled his robes and left the preparation room quickly.

  When he left, she seemed to have lost her only support and sat on a chair.

  Her mind went blank, because of that fiery kiss, and what Neville said about the headmaster being in danger.

  The anxiety in her heart made her almost cry, and she also had that feeling of powerlessness.

  Because she remembered Credence's phoenix, which was in the same state as Fox at this time.

  Even the undead phoenix is ​​dying, what else can't die?

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   "I know that young man." After walking for a while, Fabolt said, "He is the guide soldier, Major Louis de Seguinville."

   "Guiding soldiers?" Georgiana said in surprise.

   "You don't know what a guide **** is?" Fabolt said.

   "Of course I know what a guide is." She said distraughtly. In fact, she was once protected by a guide, in Rambouillet, before signing the "Amiens Peace Treaty".

  These guide soldiers are the elite selected from the French Army Hussars, Dragoons and Army Groups. Unlike the Guards, they still belong to the original company, and their salaries are also paid by the company.

   "He belongs to the 22nd Cavalry Regiment. He once went to Italy and Egypt with the First Consul. He is currently the adjutant of General Bessiere. He is a very brave soldier."

   "What do his parents do?" Georgiana asked, before Farbolt began a tirade about the major's exploits.

   "His father was a doctor and the mayor of Lavaur. He was a decent and respectable person." Fabolt said, "Before the Great Revolution, General Bessiere was also a doctor."

  Georgianna remembers this man, and he can be regarded as a "historical figure". When Napoleon withdrew from Russia, it was General Bessiere who took care of him. In addition, he also participated in the Battle of Marengo. After Napoleon became emperor, he became one of the 26 marshals.

   "On August 10th, he was there." Farbolt said with some melancholy, "Ten years have passed in the blink of an eye."

  Christmas is coming soon, and the time has not entered 1803, that is to say, it is August 10, 1792.

   "Are you also in the Tuileries?" Georgiana asked.

  Fabolt smiled wryly, "No, we are all in the Tuileries."

  She didn't want to hear that much, but Fabolt had already started talking on his own, like he was a history teacher who babbled on even though she was the only student in the class who was sober.

  (end of this chapter)