Chapter 444: Purple Lantern Flower

For a long time afterward, Harry felt the atmosphere of his life start to become oppressive, as if everyone had their own things to be busy with. Friends in the fifth year started reviewing fully to cope with the OWL exams, while he and Ron were worrying about the Apparition exam at the end of April. Hermione even applied for the HSK, the Chinese exam set by the Tian Chao academy, which not only made her more haggard and without time to chat, but also occupied a lot of Zhang Qiu's time, as she was fully tutoring Hermione.

One morning in mid-April, Hogwarts was shrouded in a thin layer of mist. Harry woke up very early. He looked at the castle spires looming in the mist in the distance, inexplicably feeling the morning sunlight was somewhat pale. He attributed this to the sun not having fully risen yet, turned over wanting to lie down for a while longer, but couldn't fall asleep no matter what. Instead, he felt the room was stuffy, so he put on his clothes and walked out of the dormitory.

The castle corridor was quiet, with only the occasional sound of footsteps and the low chirping of owls. Harry knew where the owls came from. Although the morning reading rule had been canceled, the owls still conscientiously delivered the latest newspapers to the entrance of the Great Hall before breakfast every day.

Thinking this, he walked downstairs and picked up a newspaper casually. Then, a line of bold black characters that seemed to be still jumping stung his eyes: "Another Magnificent Failure of the Department of Mysteries."

He scanned the report at the fastest speed. Rita used the messy scene of the Department of Mysteries as a photo, and the first subtitle was "Queen Project: The Shattering of a Fantasy," followed by "Shadow of the Doctor Project: The Failed Tradition of the Department of Mysteries," "Senior Undersecretary Snape: The Responsibility of Turning the Tide," and finally the concluding remark, "What Kind of Official Do We Really Need."

From a simple and quick browse, Harry read more than one fact that made his heart ache. The first was that the Queen Project failed again, and the way it failed was still because it couldn't withstand wizard blood and went out of control. Even if more auxiliary techniques were introduced, making the threshold for losing control higher, the Queen still lost all reason before reaching the expected physical strength.

And what made him feel even more heartbroken was that the cleanup work this time was still done by Professor Snape. The report mentioned that he "refused all help, entered the out-of-control scene alone, and solved the crazy test subject single-handedly." Harry felt those flowery words behind were so dazzling; he couldn't imagine how sad Snape would be when reading this report full of misunderstandings. An unspeakable sadness surged into his heart, and Harry couldn't help but shed a tear for this relationship that ultimately failed to reach the sunlight.

Outside the windows of the Great Hall, the dark clouds lingered, and the air was permeated with oppression. Harry stood blankly at the entrance of the Great Hall, watching the scattered, early-rising students push the door and enter. The aroma of some warm food drifted to his eyes from time to time, diluting the pungent ink smell of the newspaper. The students beside him who read the newspaper laughed loudly at the failure of the Department of Mysteries and praised Snape's "heroism and strength." Harry didn't go to refute them; all his strength was exhausted.

Harry rubbed his face and swallowed the sadness back into his stomach. He knew someone must be sadder than him at this moment, and as one of the few people in the whole school who knew the inside story, he felt it was necessary for him to give Snape a little bit of insignificant concern.

He crossed the long corridor, every step feeling like stepping in mud. When he finally walked to the front of the stairs, through a window on the side, he saw the sunlight finally dispelling the dark clouds, reflecting on the tender buds on the distant treetops. But all this felt somewhat distant and strange at this moment.

Finally, Harry passed the stone statue and came to the wooden door of the office. After a long period of silence and hesitation, he finally reached out and knocked on the door gently.

The door opened in response. Snape was sitting on the sofa near the door. He was wearing a blood-stained white shirt, and that iconic black robe was dirty and filthy, thrown on the desk in tatters. Snape gently retracted the hand grasping the wand, and his eyes fell back on his knees, where a flintlock with a bayonet was resting quietly.

"Professor," Harry swallowed a mouthful of saliva, trying to make his voice sound calm. "I saw today's newspaper, I think, I want to say, I'm very sorry."

"Your visit is meaningless, Potter." Snape said tiredly. "You don't know anything at all."

"I just hope," Harry felt somewhat bitter, "you don't have to bear all this alone."

Snape's brows furrowed deeply, his tone carrying a trace of suppressed anger: "You think you can? How dare you... presume to understand me?"

"Because I have also lost important people, Professor..."

"That's different! Idiot!" Snape stood up suddenly and shouted, "You don't have to do it! You don't know she—"

"Forget it, I'm tired." He seemed to mention something that couldn't be said, stopped his words dejectedly, let out a breath on his own, and picked up the gun that had fallen to the ground just because he stood up. "You find a place for me, hang it up, hang it in some corner of the school."

Harry walked up silently and grasped the gun stock carefully. Snape didn't seem to want to let go yet, but when Harry grabbed the gun body with his other hand, he let go.

"Purple Lantern Flower." Snape said in a low voice. "The name of this gun is Purple Lantern Flower."

"I know, Professor." Harry didn't dare to say any extra words, just walked out slowly.

Snape watched him like this, his eyes containing a trace of pain and helplessness. His lips trembled, but until Harry walked out of that wooden door, this man who was used to bearing everything alone ultimately didn't say another word.

Walking on the road, Harry examined this gun. It was very light, a bit smaller than a general flintlock, and there were several dents and scratches on the gun body. Harry wiped off a drop of residual blood gently, then started thinking about where to hang it. For this medieval-style ancient castle, a flintlock was a reasonable decoration anywhere; but for the meaning behind this gun, it seemed not respectful enough anywhere.

When he passed the Trophy Room, Harry suddenly felt it was not bad here, so he walked in, waved his wand to conjure two small brackets on the wall, and then hung the gun up. Then he walked to the library somewhat dejectedly, kicking his toes. He wanted to look up the flower language of the Purple Lantern Flower.

"Harry, are you okay?" Zhang Qiu sat in her usual seat and asked softly.

"Sigh, I'm okay." He didn't continue walking, but sat down on the spot. "I originally thought, if Professor Snape could find his own happiness, maybe he could... forget it, it's all over, everything is just a dream bubble."

"Were you at the Professor's just now?" Zhang Qiu stroked his spine. Harry felt his sadness was quickly relieved, but once he thought that no one would ever stroke Snape's spine like this, he couldn't help but feel a deeper sadness for this professor.

"He drove me out, but he gave me a gun and asked me to hang it up," Harry said. "That should be Mia's relic."

"A gun? This is very strange, Harry," Zhang Qiu looked around and lowered her voice. "If Mia went out of control because the Queen Project failed, she wouldn't think of taking a gun."

"Who knows, perhaps it was left in the room by Mia," Harry said distractedly. "The end of the Queen's loss of control can only be bones and ashes; all Snape can do is look at the object and think of the person."

"Ah, yes." Zhang Qiu rubbed her cheeks. "Then, where did you put it?"

"Trophy Room, but I haven't written the nameplate yet," Harry said. "I want to look up the flower language of the Purple Lantern Flower first; Snape said the name of this gun is Purple Lantern Flower."

They found the book introducing flower language. The book wrote that the flower language of the Purple Lantern Flower can be joy, or a bet, or sad love, eternal longing, and even some people gave it the meaning of jealousy and melancholy love.

"Snape is worthy of being a Potions Master." Harry sighed. "Almost every word is written for the feelings between them."

"Is it possible that the name Purple Lantern Flower was taken by Mia?" Zhang Qiu pointed to the glaring 【Jealousy】 word at the end. "She ultimately couldn't replace the white moonlight in Snape's heart."

"Let's go, let's go write the nameplate." Harry didn't dwell on these. "Let me think about how to describe her... achievements?"

"She was just a martyr, not an achievement," Zhang Qiu shook her head gently. "Better to avoid the important and focus on the trivial."

"But she made many meaningful contributions. Blood magic helped us beat back Evolt, didn't it?"

"Harry, I really don't want to poke it, but Purple Lantern Flower has no qualification to be put into the Trophy Room; this is all out of your sympathy."

They walked and argued in a low voice. Harry knew the decision he made wasn't appropriate, but out of a selfish motive, he kept trying to rationalize his behavior. Because in his heart, Snape had always lived in painful loneliness. This blow might make him more sorrowful and make him more isolated, but it might also make him stronger.

When they entered the Trophy Room, Harry noticed that the bracket originally used for hanging the gun had become larger, growing some nice arcs and wood carvings, and a golden nameplate had also appeared on the wall quietly.

"Artemis"

"Possesses the brave will to overcome cruel fate and continue fighting to liberate those who suffer"

Harry read these two lines of handwriting. He of course noticed they were very similar to the handwriting of the Half-Blood Prince. He suddenly felt a bit relieved.

Snape wasn't so easily crushed; he would continue to face all the wind and snow alone, but tenaciously, just like before. ===== CHAPTER 445 =====