It's starting again...
Listening to their mutual mocking, Harry turned his gaze away with an expression of speechless bewilderment, choosing to remain silent. His eyes landed on "Flying with the Cannons" spread across his lap, but he only skimmed the surface of those English words, seemingly staring with a deeper gaze at places unseen by others—
He was still recollecting the experiences of this afternoon.
The real Dementors, Professor Lupin's Guardian God, the screams echoing in his ear, and... the "Hagrid" free fighting with the Dementors.
"..."
Just thinking about this made Harry's eyelids twitch uncontrollably. He had often fantasized about the tangible form of his Guardian God—dog, bird, lion, tiger... He even imagined it might be a Broomstick, but never did he expect his Guardian God to be Hagrid.
Though that misty white face was indistinct, he and Lupin instantly recognized the giant's identity.
...So, why?
Harry scratched his head, bewildered, and started to analyze his relationship with Hagrid in his mind. In a sense, Hagrid was his guide to the Wizarding World, rescuing him from the Dursleys' hell. His feelings for Hagrid were far from ordinary friendship—
But that shouldn't suffice as a reason for his Guardian God to manifest as Hagrid. Although, recalling his happy memories, Hagrid leading him off the island was indeed one of them, including the time Hagrid turned Dudley's butt into a pig's tail—that was the happiest memory of his otherwise dull early life—
Yet, those memories only make up a small part, as many more joyous events followed.
More crucially, Harry could sense that his current joy couldn't sustain anything beyond the usual white mist when summoning his Guardian God. Due to William passing Emotion Magic to him, Harry had become highly sensitive to his emotional changes, and he realized that even in the pressured environment facing the Dementors, he hadn't unlocked much "potential."
Thus, the person who was truly happy at that time... was not him.
After analyzing his social experiences, Harry's mind began to replay the scene he saw while gazing at the Dementors—a scary, horrific Lethifold perched on a woman's chest, amidst a gory wound, and the woman hadn't died yet; he could even feel the heartbeat within her chest...
Warm skin, rough texture, sticky blood, and from deep within, a crazed ecstasy for "rebirth"... Harry couldn't help but rub his temples; such an immensely real sensation seemed to continually affect him to this day—
Yes, after using the Guardian God that time, he straightforwardly used magic to seal his emotions.
He didn't dare to release them, fearing being controlled or influenced by that manic emotion.
Initially, Harry wanted to talk to Professor Lupin, but upon further reflection, he instinctively opted against it. Though unclear how this hallucination occurred, Harry knew well what happened in his mind last semester—that was linked to Voldemort.
His intuition told him that even if Lupin knew about this, it wouldn't actually help.
Perhaps telling Senior William might lead to better progress—yes, to Harry, William had begun to stand shoulder to shoulder with Dumbledore, possessing powerful and enigmatic skills, remarkable wisdom, and leadership... Harry often overlooked William's true identity, who was still even unable to learn Apparition as a sixth-year student.
Not to mention, most professors often forget this too.
But now he couldn't find William at all, making any confession impossible. Sure, Dumbledore might be a good confidant? Yet the fact that he's the headmaster, busy with countless responsibilities, how could he possibly have time to sit down for a heart-to-heart?
Harry also dared not seek him out, as the gap between their statuses was not insignificant.
Feeling somewhat aggravated, Harry ruffled his hair, reached over, and closed the Quidditch book he hadn't actually read even a word of, producing a soft "thump." Rising to his feet, he mumbled a greeting to the other three by the fireplace, then quickly strode away.
"What's wrong with Harry?"
Surprised, Neville asked instinctively as he was loosening the soil around the Poisonous Tentacles in the flowerpot. The deep green tendrils, normally fierce with menacing fangs, were now gently swaying, seemingly pleased with Neville's meticulous care.
"No idea, he's been such a cold fish ever since he returned."
Ron shook his head, organizing his Potions Class homework that had taken him half a day to finish. He rubbed his slightly sore wrist and sighed. Not long ago, George and Fred were selling Speedwriting Quills and other homework gadgets.
But soon enough, they were suppressed by professors, who seemed to have practiced Eyes of Golden Flame, instantly spotting any faked handwriting.
Snape even announced that before the semester's end, he would poison a certain little wizard, hoping they'd develop an antidote by then.
Thus, Ron dared not slack off on any Potions Class assignments; for over a week since the Christmas break, he even cut back on Wizard Chess, although... it's definitely not because he lost his new pieces to a fifth-year Gryffindor little wizard.