Dumbledore saw the teenager around the corner and said in surprise, "Bach?"
"Good evening, Professor," Hoffa said.
"Why aren't you going back so late? It's curfew now. "
Dumbledore wasn't angry, but he frowned and asked.
"Something happened, I have to tell you."
"What's the matter?"
"I have three roommates …"
"Wait a minute, let's talk in the office."
Dumbledore looked around and interrupted Hoffa, "Just in time, I have something to ask you too."
Hoffa was taken aback and nodded.
"Okay."
Dumbledore walked in front and Hoffa walked behind. They didn't speak along the way, but Hoffa felt a sense of relief that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was like a thirsty traveler who had walked in the desert for a long time and encountered a lush oasis.
The two came to the office on the third floor one after the other.
Dumbledore's office wasn't much different from before. A few wooden cabinets, a mahogany desk, and some shiny silverware were placed on the table and slowly rotated. The phoenix named Fox stood on a high gilded perch. Seeing Hoffa come over, it happily straightened up and chirped at him.
Hoffa sat on a chair and greeted Fox.
Dumbledore waved his magic wand and the fireplace ignited with a raging flame. The whole room suddenly warmed up.
Under the illumination of the fire, Dumbledore's usually tall body looked a little hunched at the moment. Probably because the long journey had consumed a lot of his mind, he walked to the cabinet and took out a glass of amber-colored wine. He opened it and poured it into two glasses.
For some reason, this action reminded Hoffa of the transformation class teacher, Jacob Bohan.
While pouring the wine, he asked, "I heard that you now have considerable influence among the ordinary students."
Hoffa nodded and said softly,
"Sort of."
"I'm glad that you're willing to take responsibility."
Dumbledore brought two wine glasses to Hoffa and placed one in front of Hoffa.
"Thank you."
Hoffa picked up the cup and took a sip.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his joints cracking.
"However, according to the feedback that the other deans have given me recently, the students have been very impetuous recently and have no motivation to study seriously at all."
"Mm …"
Hoffa put down his cup. "That seems to be the case."
"What the hell is going on?" Dumbledore asked with his fingers crossed.
"What?" Hoffa didn't understand.
"I say, why is the school's atmosphere so impetuous?"
Hoffa did not know why Dumbledore would ask him this question. Could it be that the students' impetuous atmosphere was not due to the influence of the environment? What did it have to do with him?
"I don't know." He said honestly, "Maybe it's because the pressure is too great. There's a war outside, and the daily schoolwork is very heavy …"
"Hoffa."
Dumbledore interrupted him. "You didn't manage them well."
Silence shrouded the office. Hoffa looked at Dumbledore's blue eyes and didn't know what to say for a moment.
Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his temples. "Hoffa, you're no longer an ordinary student."
Hoffa: "I don't think so."
"You have to think so."
Dumbledore said firmly. He straightened up and crossed his fingers.
"Listen, Bach, the outside world is eyeing the school covetously. As the only magic high school in the United Kingdom. At this time, you should share my burden. "
"I …"
"Why don't you try to set an example for them?"
"I …"
"Hoffa, this is your responsibility. You should be more forceful. "
Dumbledore's repeated forceful statements made Hoffa a little absent-minded. He even heard a disdainful laugh from the bottom of his heart. He shook his head hard and the auditory hallucination disappeared.
"What's wrong?"
Dumbledore frowned and looked at Hoffa.
Hoffa panted a few times, calmed down, and opened his eyes.
"Can … can we not talk about this first?"
"What do you want to talk about?"
"I still have some personal questions to ask, Professor."
Dumbledore picked up the wine glass on the table and took a sip.
"What personal questions do you have?"
"I …"
Hoffa raised his head, and his mind was in a trance again.
For the past six months, Hoffa had been eager to see Dumbledore and talk to him in private. But when it came to the moment to speak, Hoffa found it a little difficult. Not only was it difficult to describe, but it was also embarrassing.
"Speak, Bach."
Dumbledore crossed his fingers. "I'm listening."
"Professor, I … I'm in pain."
Hoffa said with some difficulty.
"Why are you in pain?" Dumbledore asked.
"I feel like there's something wrong with my mind."
Hoffa said with some hesitation.
"Something wrong with your mind?" Dumbledore was speechless. "How old are you?"
"Yes, I can't stop having nightmares. There's a weird-looking guy in my dreams, and I always see a lot of colorful faces and hear some voices I shouldn't hear. "
"A weird-looking guy? A colorful face, a weird voice? "
Dumbledore's eyes widened, and his expression was a little confused.
Hoffa nodded. "And, I … I'm not very interested in what my friends do. And the daily work of the school, I think it's a little too mechanical. "
Dumbledore frowned. "Others asked you to speak, or is it your own opinion?"
"It's my own opinion."
Dumbledore carefully looked at Hoffa for a moment with his X-ray eyes. "When did it start?"
"This year."
"What kind of dream did you have?"
"Falling from a building."
Dumbledore was stunned, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "What did you hear?"
"I don't know, I can't remember."
"Just a dream?"
"Maybe, I'm not too sure."
Dumbledore sighed and moved the cup in his hand away.
"Do you know what I think? Hoffa, I think you're still too idle. "
Hoffa looked up in surprise. This was not the answer he wanted to hear.
"I also have dreams. Wizards are still human, and will be affected by the subconscious. Last night, I dreamed that someone gave me a pile of wool socks. But I'll make myself busy, so busy that I'll forget about these things. "
Dumbledore sighed again. "The school can't do anything about it. After a few years, it should be much better."
After a pause, he said, "Hoffa, you have to work hard."
It was as if he had crossed an invisible divide. A string in his chest cracked.
Dumbledore was so close, but also seemed very far away. Hoffa could clearly see the stain on his auburn beard, but he was once again enveloped by a sense of unfamiliarity.
Work hard …
I'm not working hard enough …
Is it because I'm not working hard enough …
Dumbledore stood up and patted Hoffa's shoulder. "It's okay, don't think too much. Go back and have a good rest."
Hoffa looked at the palm on his shoulder, and then looked at Dumbledore's blue eyes under his glasses. His excitement and energy were quickly absorbed by the black hole, and he felt dispirited.
"I see, I understand."
He said softly, stood up, and turned around. His face was cold, like a walking piece of frozen beef, without the slightest feeling.
"Wait a minute, Bach."
Dumbledore stopped him.
"What's wrong?"
Holding the door handle, Hoffa turned his head slightly.
"What were you going to say about the three roommates at the beginning?"
Hoffa looked at Dumbledore for a while.
"Nothing, good night, professor."
After that, he left Dumbledore's office.
.....
.....
He had forgotten how he returned to Ravenclaw Tower that night.
He only remembered that he had a sleepless night, and all his roommates were missing. He sat alone in the room, and the cold wind outside the window blew the curtains and kept dancing.
The cold crescent moon hung high in the sky, and some variegated fragments of the conversation flashed through Hoffa's mind.
Thinking too much …
Not working hard enough …
The gap between the ideal and reality widened again. He closed his eyes, and the curtains caressed his face like a massage.
The depth of his thoughts gradually developed, as if God had split open a Mariana Trench in his mind, separating the rational and emotional oceans.
He began to understand some incomprehensible things, and began to understand the limitations of the Wizard, and the limitations of humans.
Everyone in the world was concerned about their own affairs, fame, honor, resources, society, and school. Even someone as wise as Dumbledore was no exception.
Human consciousness was an accident in evolution. Without consciousness and relying only on instinct, life would continue to exist. Excessive observation and thinking did not help existence itself.
He shouldn't be like this. A salmon wouldn't want other salmon to know how he felt, because it was meaningless.
He should show positive energy, show high value, show omnipotent strength, and show the attitude of a community leader.
He should be like William, controlling other people's hormones and dopamine secretion, enjoying the joy of youth, enjoying the opportunities given to him by God, and enjoying his position in the Hogwarts.
He only needed to earn a lot of money, defeat many opponents, and find a mate to lay eggs like a salmon, replicate his DNA, and then he could face death calmly.
But why did he think so much?
Why did life become more and more painful?
Why did all this make him so tired?
He did not know. He hated himself like this.
.....
.....
The next day, Christmas Eve.
He walked out of the dormitory and decided to eat something to sustain his life.
The gorgeously decorated hall was unexpectedly deserted, and there were very few people in the hall that should have been lively. Only a few students gathered in twos and threes, looking around nervously.
There was no one at the teacher's table.
Seeing Hoffa come over, the small group of students quickly surrounded him as if they had found their backbone.
"Bach, where did you go?"
A student said, still in shock.
"Our friends are missing."
This news probably surprised Hoffa for 0.1S. Then he sat at the table in relief and added a bowl of pumpkin porridge for himself. His heart did not waver. If the Ministry of Magic came over now to shut down the Hogwarts, he probably would not struggle.
Someone scratched his head anxiously. "They were playing chess in the common room, but for some reason, they disappeared."
"I heard someone singing, and as I listened, the people in my dormitory disappeared …"
"I saw a group of animals lining up in the corridor last night, and as I watched …"
"Shut up."
Hoffa interrupted them coldly.
"I'm eating."
His indifference stunned the other students. They became anxious and began to chatter and persuade him.
"How can you be like this?"
"They are your friends. Hurry up and help them."
"Yeah, Bach, stop joking."
"Hurry up and help us find them."
"You are so powerful, you can do it with your hands."
Hoffa sat motionless in his seat and did not move at all. His whole person exuded an aura that kept people away. After a while, the chatter of persuasion subsided.
The crowd around him gradually dispersed and moved away from him step by step.
After the expectation was shattered, it was replaced by indescribable disappointment. No one came forward to ask Hoffa what happened. There was only disappointment in their eyes that was as sharp as a blade.
This disappointment spread like a plague in the school.
After breakfast, he left the hall.
People who met him took the initiative to avoid him.
He floated in the school, and the energy in his body dropped to the bottom.
To be honest, he did not know where to go at all. He felt like a twenty-first-century BB machine.
At this moment, he thought of the room on the eighth floor. He wanted to find a place to hide himself.
He walked to the tapestry on the eighth floor. The monster in the tapestry held a stick and was doing ballet, looking stupid.
He stood still, and time rotated.
He overlapped with the boy with glasses who stood here fifty years later.
At this moment, he truly felt the difference between himself and Harry. It was the most fundamental difference between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
Lions were social animals, and he would never be. The ego in the eagle's bones made it difficult for him to move around the school.
He didn't even have to turn around three times. His strong desire to hide made the smooth door appear, and he opened the door of the Room of Everything.
The mottled light illuminated the garbage hills. Snowflakes floated in through the high windows and fell on top of the old things piled up like mountains, forming white spots.
But Hoffa's eyes did not stop on the forbidden things that had been piled up for thousands of years.
Because in the room, a pair of chestnut eyes were staring at him without blinking.
It was the black-and-white cat.
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