THE ESTIMATE OF THE PROFESSOR

He had defeated him. He had won against him. Why did everything happen so quickly? He had only blinked, and a second after he had ... Won.
Voldemort is gone. Harry knew it, but he still had a hard time believing it. What if he had just disappeared, like the last time? And if he was only waiting for the right time to reappear again? This thought horrified him. But why was it so difficult for him to admit that he was gone, for good. He was there, he was present when he died, he even killed him ... But how did he get it? He did not remember it at all.
Harry could have shown his joy like all the other wizards, but he did not really want to. To rejoice at something that he did not even understand seemed to him like lying. He would lie if he said he did not have some suspicion. He was in front of the window in the boys' dormitory. All he accepted to be real was that tonight, if this moment could still be considered as the night, he had entered the Gryffindor common room (half destroyed) eager to rested, he had climbed four At four the steps of the spiral staircase, smashed the front door and dropped into his canopy bed, soft and comfortable, just waiting to be snuggled in.
When he had woken up, half knocked out, he rushed to the window and looked out and stopped asking idiotic questions. The park was sparkling but still covered with debris from the castle. The lights of the sun shone the only ring of quidditch that had remained intact. Hagrid's hut was blackened with ashes and there was no smoke escaping from the small chimney. The forbidden forest was in a dirty state, exactly as it was before a war was declared. Despite all the devastation caused by the battle with Voldemort, Harry could not help but feel the wind blowing with joy. The park also seemed to be in a good mood, a bit like he was smiling at Harry. Even nature knew that the most powerful and dangerous black mage of all time was dead.
Harry did not know why, but he had a strange feeling that something had been stolen from him. There was like a big hole in him. The idea had come to him that perhaps, by being accustomed to be pursued by a danger of death, his body, or his heart, had regarded it as an indispensable element, which he needed to live. Harry felt stupid thinking of such things. Why did he not act like any person now freed from a heavy burden?
He had no idea what to do now that nothing threatened his life. What would a normal person do? Apart from being worried about what Voldemort was doing, he had never really thought about his future after he'd defeated him. He wondered if he should have thought about it. But how could he have thought of it? Yesterday his future was hidden behind the gigantic shadow of his worst enemy. What would a person, a wizard, do in his place? Was he supposed to have changed his life now? Had his powers been withdrawn? What if he was not a sorcerer? And if he had been given power simply to defeat Voldemort and then he would be doomed to return to his aunt and uncle and relive in their home at Privet Drive? He was not convinced enough to answer his questions himself.
What he knew, however, was that he would not finish his seventh year at Hogwarts. He felt that the school would not re-open before a few years. The fight against Voldemort had caused great damage. Part of the castle is gone and the other part was missing a bit of everything. The stairs, the classrooms, the walls, the doors ... Everything was destroyed. But maybe he was wrong. After all, he lived in a world of magic. He had forgotten it for a second. Suddenly he could not help thinking what would happen if he had never come to Hogwarts. At the moment he would have finished his studies of Muggle and would graduate, he would surely have already escaped the clutches of his aunt and his uncle
And if he left his life as a sorcerer? ... No ... No ... It would be more than an idiot ... But if his theory about given power proved true, it was the only future that was imposed on him .
He gradually lost his thoughts, always watching what was going on outside.
"My canopy bed is going terribly missed," said a familiar voice that came from behind him.
He turned abruptly and saw Ron stretched out on his bed. He had not seen his arrival.
"To me too," he said in reply.
-What were you doing ? You looked ... Elsewhere.
Harry was caught off guard but he knew lying would not help. But if he told him the truth, he was sure he was going to make fun of him, right now that's not exactly what he needed.
In response, he asked:
"What do you intend to do?"
Ron stared at the ceiling and without looking down he said,
-What do you mean ?
Obviously he had not understood.
"I mean ... Now that everything is fine ... Now that we've defeated Voldemort?" Where will you go? What are you going to become?
Ron seemed to reflect his eyes from the ceiling. Harry sat on his own bed waiting for Ron to give him his answer.
"I'll go home, of course."
Harry could not envy Ron more than at that time. It was true, he had a family. A mother, a father, brothers ... Everything he wanted to have. He would have liked to find an obvious answer like that. Then suddenly, Ron went on:
-and I would certainly marry ...
Harry could not believe his ears. He turned his head toward Ron so quickly that he could have caught a torticollis.
-You what ?!
Ron was still looking at the ceiling.
"I should marry, at least, when I should be taller, no doubt." Why ? You do not expect to do it?
-What? Harry asked deconcentratedly.
Ron was now turning towards him and looking at him with round eyes.
"You married!"
Harry felt his blood rise in his cheeks. There was no reflection. This idea coming from Ron was unexpected. But he was right to want to get married. Founded his own family, had children ... It was an absolutely wonderful idea! ... But to get married, you had to have someone with whom you got married. Would Ron agree if he decided to ask Ginny's hand?
Oh ! Here! Ron had not only brothers, he also had a sister ... The most beautiful girl in the world. He had completely forgotten it. How stupid he was! How can I forget Ginny? The way she swept her hair back, her seductive smile, her unrivaled talent for quidditch ...
-So you're coming ? Ron asked.
He had gone to the door and held the handle between his fingers. Harry looked at him.
-To go where ?
Ron looked at him with questioning eyes.
In the Great Hall. I thought you were hungry. You are not hungry ?
Harry suddenly realized that his belly was shouting famine to him since he'd woken up. Not wanting to start a fight against his stomach, he stood up and followed Ron who was already descending the spiral staircase.
"What! Hold on !
He closed the door and hurried down the stairs. Ron was already in the common room.
-Dispatch! Shouted it. The elves insisted on preparing us a feast.
-Elves ?
Harry followed Ron as he walked over to the fat woman's ragged portrait. They went down another staircase. Harry noticed that no one was walking around the castle. Everyone had to be in the Great Hall, eating their fill.
-Finally, those that are always whole.
"What do you mean by that?"
They did not stop and went down the stairs at full speed.
-Small elf came out with only a few scratches. Three elves died, and the others lost legs, arms or even ears. Since being protected, they are more gracious and extremely grateful.
Suddenly the staircase shook, the front end broke off and rotated to the right.
"Damned stairs! Ron exclaimed.
They clutched at the reins and when the stairs came to a halt, they jumped to the floor of the large entrance hall at Hogwarts. Or, at least, what was left of it.
"You'll see," said Ron, with a smile on his face. They will be more than delighted that you join them.
Harry was beginning to hear the rumors of the conversations. The wide open door was just a few meters away from them.
Harry entered the great hall.
The big room was full to bursting. The tables of the four houses were again placed in their usual place. Sorcerers and witches were sitting here and there, there were many more people than the day before. The ceiling was an enlightened blue sky. Even time seemed to celebrate the death of Voldemort.
The noise of the conversations faded suddenly. All eyes were now on Harry. He strode forward in the distance. No one had looked at him like that since last year. Suddenly, a student sat at the Hufflepuff table that he did not know clapped hands as hard as he could. Everyone turned to him. He had a big smile and his eyes filled with tears.
- Thank you Potter! He shouted. Thank you so much !
He kept applauding. Harry stopped to look at him, then another boy sat at Ravenclaw's table, applauding, following the rhythm of the first.
-He is right! If he cried. Long live Potter!
Then another boy that Harry recognized as Colin Creevey but horribly distorted howled on the table with his spoons and forks.
-Vive Potter! Long live Potter! Long live Potter!
The two others followed him, tapping their table with force. Three seconds later, "Vive Potter" sounded strongly in the Great Hall. Then everybody exclaimed with great stroke:
-LONG LIFE POTTER!
And they all applauded very loudly. Harry did not know what to feel. He had never enjoyed being acclaimed, but this time he could not help believing that these acclamations were the confirmation he was waiting for. He was certain now. Voldemort is dead, and nothing and nothing can change anything.
The rumors of the conversations resumed. Ron brought Harry to the Gryffindor table where Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, George Weasley, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Hagrid, Professor Mcgonagall, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were sitting. All eight of them were listening attentively to Luna and then when she had finished all laughed.
"What did she say this time?" Ron asked when they arrived.
Ron sneaked in between Hermione and Neville. Harry sat in front of them next to Hagrid and George. No one answered Ron's question and all looked at Harry with radiant smiles.
"What?" What's the matter ? Asked he.
"Do you feel good, Harry?" Hermione asked.
Whenever Hermione asked him that question, Harry was either in a bad mood or hurt, and the tone of his voice was quite serious. But this time she just seemed to say hello to him while being polite.
"Very well," he replied.
"You look happy, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley, with tears in her eyes.
"You're fine, Harry," said Mr. Weasley.
"Sleep well, Harry?" Questioned Hagrid.
-How ... Yes, very well.
"You're the stronger, Harry," George said, patting him on the back.
"Re-welcome among us, Harry," Luna added.
Neville gave him a radiant smile.
"Eat a piece of Harry," Ginny said, handing her a plate of chicken and scrambled eggs.
Harry looked her in the eye, she had a smile better than Hermione, all in all her smile was more beautiful than any. They looked at each other intently for a moment and Ron coughed a bit but stopped right away when Hermione nudged him in the ribs. Harry finally took the plate from Ginny's hands and without looking away he said,
-Thank you.
"So, Luna," Ron said hurriedly. What were you saying?
Ginny and the others all turned to her. Harry was glad that Ginny took the initiative to no longer look at him. A second more and he could not bear to not see her in his field of vision.
Harry busied himself with eating his scrambled eggs and stopped regularly when Luna told hilarious stories. Harry had not laughed like this for some time. He felt light, very happy. Never could anything have seemed better.
He noticed that Professor Mcgonagall was particularly silent. She did not laugh, but did not take her eyes off Harry's hands, who were busy holding her fork and knife. He purposely pretended not to notice her. But when he had finished eating, and everyone was too busy laughing to hear him, he stood up, approached the professor and said,
"Professor, I saw something strange in a classroom just now.
Professor Mcgonagall turned to him. Ella looked a little deconcentrated.
"Something strange like what, Potter?" She asked in an absent tone that did not exactly resemble her.
"Well, I was counting on you to tell me," Harry chuckled, determined to know what she had in mind.
The professor looked him straight in the eye and said no more.
"Professor, will you please accompany me, please?" He said.
The professor did not move with a finger. She stared at him as he looked absent.
"Please, Professor," Harry pleaded.
The professor slowly got up from his chair.
"Very well, Potter," she nodded finally. If you insist so much.
They silently left the Gryffindor table, then crossed the front door. Aware that he had no idea where he had seen the strange imaginary thing he had invented, he took Professor Mcgonagall up a staircase, hoping that he would stop when a classroom particularly will find themselves in front of them.
"Where are you taking me, Potter?" The professor asked in an absent voice as they climbed the steps of a staircase before landing on the fourth floor.
"It's not very far away," Harry replied as he walked straight to a room with a broken door and the surrounding floor covered with mature pieces.
They reached the end of the corridor. Harry helped the professor to span the stone debris and they entered the room.
"So, Potter," said the professor. What is this strange thing you were talking about?

Harry pretended to sound the room from everywhere. The desks were all overturned on the floor and the picture was half torn. Then he said,
"There was something transparent and luminous here, Professor. I saw it.
"And where is he now?"
-I would say he is ... Left.
The professor looked at Harry. She tried to look stern with frowning but there was always something absent in her eyes.
"Well," she said, "there's no doubt you saw a ghost, nothing more, Potter." I thought you were smarter.
"I am, Professor." Are you all right, Professor?
The teacher stopped unnecessarily frowning and began to look at Harry as if he were a magical creature not yet discovered. Harry held his gaze. He was not going to give up until the teacher answered him.
"Professor, I have seen you watch all that I did." You have a problem ? Can I help you ?
The teacher still did not say anything but at the sight of her eyes that had suddenly changed shape, Harry knew she would all tell him in a few seconds ... Three ... Two ... One ...
"Very well, Potter," she said, pulling her eyes away from Harry. It looks as if you have broken through me. Since you seem to insist ... I think you're pretty mature now.
The professor turned back, walked out of the room, lifted his dress to span the stone debris again, and again set the Harry corridor on his heels.
Professor Mcgonagall walked so fast that Harry had to climb the stairs four to four to get caught up.
They reached the floor where was the stone statue that hid the staircase leading to Dumbledore's office or his former office. The gargoyle said in a loud voice:
-Password.
"The reformation of the ages," the professor replied in his unusually absent tone.
The gargoyle turned on itself and uncovered a spiral staircase that swirled behind the wall. Without a word, the teacher motioned to Harry to follow her and they both went up to Dumbledore's former office.
The professor opened the door and she stepped into the office followed by Harry. The office had under no circumstances changed. Everything was as Dumbledore had wished. As he stepped into the room, he saw stirred in the frames hung on the walls. The former Hogwarts directors were all standing in their respective portraits and whispered words that resembled "There it is" "Harry Potter? Who is with him? "Professor Mcgonagall." Only Dumbledore said nothing and just smiled at Harry.
Professor Mcgonagall was on the small platform overlooking the library. She was busy revisiting books she chose and took her wand before the restlessly cautious. Books fled from their bookshelves and stood on the desk. Harry took advantage of the professor's attention to the portrait of Dumbledore, who was smiling at him.
"How are you, Professor?" He asked the portrait.
"Very well, Harry," he said radiantly. I'm just a little sad.
"Why, Professor?" Harry asked curiously as to what might upset Dumbledore.
"I'm terribly hungry," he said, smiling even more.
Harry could not help smiling at his joke. The portraits were really an image version of the wizards. They even had a sense of humor.
"I can tell you that I would like to eat one of those lemon-flavored ice-creams that the Muggles do so well."
Harry laughed. The professor was delighted to see him succumbing to his sense of humor. Dumbledore smiled at her and said,
"How are your comrades Granger and Weasley?"
"They're fine, Professor."
"Very well. More than good... And your friend... What is her name already?" Weasley's sister?
Harry felt the blood rise in his cheeks.
"She's called Ginny, professor, and she's also doing very well, sir."
Dumbledore smiled more beautifully.
"I wish you all the happiness of the world."
"Why, sir?" Harry asked, suspecting him.
-Oh, for nothing. Finally Dumbledore appeared leaning forward. Until the day comes.
Dumbledore winked at him and smiled even more. Harry was persuaded that it was now red like a tomato. He looked away from Dumbledore's portrait and saw that Professor Mcgonagall was coming down the small platform.
"I have to go, Professor," he said to Dumbledore one last time.
"Of course," he said, smiling. We must not make women wait. Go then. Come on! Oust!
Harry smirked at him and then walked over to the desk behind which Professor Mcgonagall had taken a seat and leafed through one of the books she had taken from the shelves.
"Can I sit down, Professor?" Harry asked.
-Oh ... I do not see any inconvenience, Potter.
Harry pulled the chair and sat on it. He watched the teacher busy for a while and began to grow impatient. After a moment's silence, interrupted only by the rubbing of the pages which the professor had turned, he decided to speak, asking:
"Why did you take me here, Professor?"
The professor suddenly raised her eyes from the book to the dusty green blanket she held in her hands. She seemed surprised to see that Harry was sitting in front of her. She closed the book and adjusted her glasses before she reached for her fingers and stared at Harry, who did not dare add any further comment. Professor Mcgonagall seemed to have recovered all her senses and she managed to look very severe.
After a very long moment of silence the professor said:
-Potter, I am very grateful to you for having protected our old school to the end.
-But, Professor, I
"As you must know, I am the vice-director of Hogwarts," she said gravely. You know that, do not you?
-How ... Yes, of course.
"And now that Professor Snape is dead, I must replace him, you know, do not you?"
Harry nodded his approval.
-And ... I have a very big problem on my hands because Professor Snape was also the one who was defending against the forces of evil, and he is not there anymore.
Harry approached again with gravity. He did not want to remember the odious way Voldemort had killed Snape.
"And I confess that I have been thinking of it for some time," said the professor.
"What did you think, Professor?"
The professor did not reply. She began to look at him strangely with round eyes and an absent air. Harry had no idea what the professor was going to say to him. He prepared for the worst and at least. He knew that whatever Professor Mcgonagall would tell him, it would be confessions wisely thought out. The professor leaned a little closer to Harry. His glasses slid to the end of his nose.
"I'd like to ask you a favor, Potter."
Harry did not expect it but he nodded slowly not knowing what the professor was going to offer him.
-I would like that, finally only if you truly approved. What I am going to ask of you is so selfish, and I know it. But nothing tells me yet that I lost my chances.
The professor gradually removed the moment of confession by warning him of all the things which might have resulted from his decision.
"But know, Potter, that whatever you say to me, I accept your decision without remorse."
The professor stared at him.
-Is that a decision I should take myself?
-Yes indeed. I want your answer, to you and to you alone. Do not tell anyone about your surroundings if you can.
Harry nodded without much conviction.
"Would you give me time to think about it?"
"Without a doubt, Potter." However, if we had enough time.
Harry looked down. He did not know and had no idea what to expect. Professor Mcgonagall looked so grave and serious that he wondered within a second if she was not going to ask him to become a director of Hogwarts. But after all, maybe she did not intend to give up her job.
Harry stood up, confident of what he was going to do or who he was going to see.
"Professor, can I talk to Dumbledore?"
The professor seemed surprised but replied:
"Yes, if you care."
Harry went back to the portrait of Dumbledore who had not replaced his radiant smile.
"It seems you have a decision to make, Harry," he said.
Harry looked into the other portraits. They all listened to Professor Dumbledore and him. Harry concluded that they were watching them since they had entered the office. Harry turned his attention to the portrait of Dumbledore, who smiled at him.
What would you have professed?" Asked he.
Dumbledore seemed to reflect as he watched Professor Mcgonagall over his half-moon glasses.
"Harry, my boy," he said, "you know it's more than hard to ... Imagine what you have to say to a never-before-come call ... Do you understand what I mean?
Harry thought about his words. He had not understood everything, but he was sure of what the professor insinuated.
He felt his stomach tie up. Dumbledore looked at him, very radiant from his portrait, then added:
"I'm sure you'll make the right choice."
Dumbledore winked at her.
Harry turned to the other portraits: many of them raised their thumbs in the air as a sign of approval. Harry saw the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, who was staring at him. He approached his frame and said,
"Do you know anything about it?"
Phineas Nigellus took off his glasses and rubbed his eyelids as if Harry's question was more than annoying.
"Well, my boy," he said, looking up at Harry with his eyes, "I've been hanging on this wall for over a hundred years, and it goes without saying that there's something I know, Others ignore. I know, therefore, "something", as you say.
He wore a petty smile. Harry was dying to ask for more but he did not find the use of speech.
He glanced at Professor Mcgonagall: she had not moved a millimeter and was staring hard at the place where Harry had sat. He looked at Dumbledore smiling more than ever.
Solved, he went to the desk, pulled out the chair and sat down. The professor had raised his eyes. Harry nodded to tell her she could talk.
The teacher raised his glasses again and said as gently and slowly as possible:
-Potter ... Would you like to give back ... A last service at school ... By sharing your knowledge with the students ... As a teacher ... defense ... against the forces of evil?
Harry had evaluated one by one all the words that had come out of the professor's mouth. The tangled letters swirled in his mind not wanting to be further clarified. Had he heard it? Perhaps he was dreaming? He never stopped fixing the professor whose face had paled and whose eyes were gravely folded as if Harry was a halo of radiant light that could make him blind. She looked at him so intensely that she could just as easily have pricked her face with a needle more than forty times.
Harry unfortunately realized that everything was real. He was actually in Dumbledore's former office, with a really frightening and serious Professor Mcgonagall who had actually asked him if he would become a professor at Hogwarts. He could not believe it.
He did not deny that this idea had crossed his mind, but it seemed so much beyond the impossible, more than unimaginable ... Finally, it should have been, but the professor had asked him the question with as much Of precaution that a lion tamer who tried to escape without waking the beast.
He did not know what to say or what to do.
Not a single sound disturbed the particularly tense atmosphere that was circulating with difficulty in the room. Perhaps the portraits had also held their breath until he gave his answer. But Harry was forced to disappoint them because he did not expect to give an answer ... Not for the moment ...

To break the ice, he said,
- I am very honored that you ... you asked me, to become the professor of defense against the forces of evil and ...
The professor listened very attentively.
- ... And I know why ... Why it was, to me, that you had asked and not to somebody else ... And I am more than delighted but
- Oh, come on, Potter! Cut the teacher. After all the acts of bravery you have shown, it seems to me evident that I have addressed you, rather than your comrades.
- ... I was going to ask you if you do not need a diploma to teach, professor?
Professor Mcgonagall smiled for the first time in the morning. She picked up the book she was reading when Harry interrupted her and began to look through it.
"Sir, Potter," she said as she turned the pages of her book, "of course you need a diploma to teach at Hogwarts." Believe me I know. However, I reviewed one by one all the regulations of Hogwarts and figured you there is a special regulation that formally prohibits letting a non-graduate teach. I felt that
Harry did not understand. He had to intervene before the professor told him that she was going to break the rules.
- But teacher, you say yourself that non-graduate people do not have the right to teach.
The professor pretended not to have heard it and continued as naturally as possible:
- ... this rule imposed itself on everyone, except ... to you, Mr. Potter.
Harry blinked. He did not understand.
"Your life revolved around the spells, Mr. Potter.
The professor again looked very serious. Harry refrained from commenting and listened.
"Excuse me for using this term, but you were under the bondage of your fatal fate. It took you more courage than intellectual quality to deal with it. If you agree to be a teacher, I could guarantee every student a success without appeal, as well as revealed to them that you were cradled with experience, just as horrible as it was, and that you never gave in. You were inflicted more pain than anyone else. I know you had suffered. I will not say I know what you felt. On the other hand, I know how good you are, Potter. I knew that since you walked through my classroom door with your friend, Weasley.
The professor stared at him with a particularly severe eye. Harry could not deny that the professor said all that was truer. But she was wrong on one point: Harry did not have that courage, he would not have had without being surrounded by his faithful friends. He was more supported than he had been. He could never have survived Privet drive without the intimate hope he had in thinking that everything would end up paid. He had been spoiled the first year he had spent at Hogwarts. He was a special person and he might not have believed it, but decided to believe it, Hagrid had helped him for it. When he had put the Hat on his head, he had almost been sent to Slytherin, but he did not want to, he wanted to be somewhere else. The Sorting Hat had listened to him and he was sent to Gryffindor. At Gryffindor he could count on the help of the Weasleys, Neville, Hermione and even Luna. When he had wanted to go alone in search of the Horcrux, his friends followed him. He did not know how he would have done without them ... No, really not ...
Harry spun into his memory. How would he be able to manage courses without Hermione's help? How would he survive without Ron's presence? If he became a professor or anything else, he would go away from his friends ...
"Professor," he said, "leave me time to reflect.
The professor nodded.
"I'll keep my word, Potter." I would respect your decision.
The professor got up from his chair, waved his wand again, and the books flew to the library. She mounted the small platform to make sure that each work was in their place leaving only Harry in front of the desk.
Harry turned to Dumbledore's portrait, it was empty. Only the purple curtain that served as a background was present.
Harry stood up and walked toward the door.
-Oh ! Hey! Potter! Called Professor Mcgonagall before he turned the handle of the door.
He stopped.
-Professor?
"I was going to ask you if you wanted to take Dumbledore's portrait with you?"
Harry did not expect her to offer him such a thing.
"I think the professor will not find any inconvenience." He loves you so much! More than lemon ice cream! It would be more than delighted you know.
Professor Mcgonagall smiled at him. Harry thought and then said,
-No it's not necessary. Talked to him would be a very good excuse to return to Hogwarts.
He smiled back at the professor, opened the door and went out.
He went down the spiral staircase whirling as the door closed behind him.
This conversation with Professor Mcgonagall had dried his throat: he wanted at all to drink some good pumpkin juice.
He landed on the floor of the main hall and was about to head for the Great Hall when he saw a shining transparent silhouette floating at the big door. It was a ghost whose head wavered dangerously on the side. The spirit seemed wept.
Harry retraced his steps and approached Sir Nicholas. Harry was right: the ghost contemplated the park glistening sobbing and escaping complaint like: "but why? ... Walk ... Go out ... Eat ... Why not?
"Is everything okay, Sir Nicholas?"
The ghost rose a little higher. He had not seen Harry coming. He rummaged in a pocket of his dress and pulled out a transparent handkerchief.
"Ah! You are finally there Potter, "he said, wiping away the transparent tear drops that glistened on his face.
Harry was surprised.
"You were expecting me, sir?"
The ghost did not look at him. He put his handkerchief back in his pocket and snorted before saying.
"I was told to tell you that your friends were waiting for you in Hagrid's hut.
"Who will charge you, sir?"
He sniffed again.
"Your red-haired friend."
-Ron?
Sir Nicholas shook his head, which flickered in every direction.
"Your other red-haired friend." He who no longer has his right ear.
"Thank you for having informed me, Sir Nicholas."
The ghost nodded sadly.
-This is the only thing I can do, so much to serve something ...
Drops of shining tears peeped in his eyes, he looked again for his handkerchief in his pocket and wiped his face. Harry wanted to comfort him by patting him on the shoulder but his hand crossed the ghost's body and he had the horrible sensation of plunging his hand into icy water.
"You know," said Sir Nicholas, "we too are ghosts, we are delighted to be rid of this face of a serpent." And since time seems to be softening too, we would like to walk in the near, eaten to freeze it with raspberry.
He sighed.
- I would give everything to freeze it with raspberry ...
They both watched the brightness of the park.
"I must go now, my boy," said the ghost after a moment. I have an important appointment with the other ghosts. We are going to make a manifestation of our sadness in front of all the living wizards that are currently at Hogwarts.
And he floated to the top floor.
Harry decided not to go back to the big room and went to Hagrid as George had warned.
He crossed the park spanning the various stone debris, jumping over the roof pieces and skirting the steps of a destroyed staircase scattered over the fresh grass.
He felt the urge to fly on his broom but he did not remember where he had put it.