Harry Potter and the Old Ones - Chapter 677: imperfect person

“Then… Potter, you must think your father is an interesting man, don’t you?” Snape said viciously, shaking Harry so hard that Harry’s glasses were about to fall off his nose. down.

“I, I—no—” Harry tried his best to break free from Snape’s restraint, but for some reason, Snape’s strength was amazing, making all Harry’s efforts in vain.

Snape pushed Harry out with all his strength.

Harry fell **** the floor of the basement classroom.

“You’re not allowed to tell anyone what you saw!” Snape roared.

“No,” said Harry, standing up, trying to stay as far away from Snape as possible. “No, of course I—”

“Get out! Get out, get out, I don’t want to see you in this office again!” Snape roared.

As Harry dashed towards the door, a jar of dead cockroaches burst over his head.

He twisted the door open and ran down the corridor until he was three floors away from Snape before stopping.

Breathing heavily, Harry leaned against the wall and slowly slid down on the cold and hard rock floor of the castle, mechanically rubbing his bruised arm.

He didn’t want to go back to Gryffindor Tower so early at all, and he didn’t want to tell anyone what he had just seen, whether Ron, Hermione, or Tiera.

Harry felt so terrified and sad, not because Snape yelled at him, or smashed him with a can, but because he knew what it was like to be publicly humiliated in a circle of onlookers, He knew exactly how Snape was feeling when he was being mocked by his father. From what he had seen and heard, his father was indeed an arrogant man, exactly as Snape had always told him. arrogant person.

“So as you wish.”

At this time, a voice came.

Harry shivered, looking up at the source of the sound—

It was a window filled with darkness like a mirror.

The window reflected not only Harry’s own pale face, but a face he was all too familiar with—

“Tiera!” Harry exclaimed in surprise.

Since he started to learn Occlumency, Tiera hasn’t taken the initiative to talk to him for a long time.

“Harry, how is it?” Tiera raised her legs, took a slight step forward, and came out of the window.

“You should already know…” Harry said sullenly, “Because of my father… Snape will never be able to teach me Occlumency… .”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Tiera smiled, sitting side by side with Harry on the floor of the castle, “Never have to endure Snape’s tortured Occlumency class again.”

“Yes…but, but… alas…” Harry shook his head wearily and confusedly, “but I don’t want Snape’s teaching to end this way. …I mean…um…”

“In such a guilty way…in such a way of holding a trace of resentment and dissatisfaction with his father?” Tiera took Harry’s words and asked with a chuckle.

“Um…” Harry nodded silently.

“Oh . A tragic death will exalt this person to the extreme, magnify the shining points in him, and let us ignore his imperfections.”

“Your father, and you, and Dumbledore, and even Snape, were imperfect mortals…” Tiera said with a smile, “It is these imperfections that have brought us The traits that make us who we are, and you don’t have to be sad or sad about imperfect things.”

“Um…” Harry nodded anyway.