Chapter 444: Purple Lamp Flower

In the long period that followed, Harry felt his life atmosphere started to become oppressive, as if everyone had their own things to be busy with. Friends in the fifth year started to review fully to deal with OWL exams, while he and Ron were worrying about the Apparition exam at the end of April. Hermione even signed up for HSK, the Chinese exam set by the Celestial Empire's institutions. This not only made her more haggard and have no 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 sun was somewhat pale. He attributed this to the sun not having fully risen yet, turned over and wanted to lie down for a while longer, but couldn't sleep no matter what. Instead, he felt the room was excessively stuffy, so he put on his clothes and walked out of the dormitory.

The castle corridor was quiet, with only occasional 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 *The Queen Project: A Shattering of Fantasy*, followed by *The Shadow of the Doctor Project: The Department of Mysteries' Failure Tradition*, *Senior Undersecretary Snape: The Responsibility of Turning the Tide*, and the final concluding remark, *What Kind of Officials Do We Actually Need*.

From a simple and quick browse, Harry read more than one fact that made him feel distressed. First and foremost 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 going out of 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 experimental product single-handedly." Harry felt those laudatory words behind were so dazzling; he dared not imagine how sad Snape would be when reading this report full of misunderstandings. An indescribable sadness surged into his heart; 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 soaked 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 through the entrance, 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, praising 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 he needed to give Snape a little bit of insignificant concern.

He crossed the long corridor, every step seeming to step in mud. When he finally walked to the front of the stairs, through a window on the side, he saw the sun finally dispelling the dark clouds, shining on the tender buds on the treetops in the distance. But all this seemed 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 tattered, thrown on the desk. Snape gently retracted the hand that was grabbing his wand, and his eyes fell back on his knees, where a flintlock with a bayonet was placed quietly.

"Professor," Harry swallowed a mouthful of saliva, trying to make his voice sound calm. "I saw today's newspaper. I think, I think I want to say, I am 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 brow furrowed deeply, his tone carrying a hint 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! You fool!" 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 because of standing up. "You find a place for me, hang it up, hang it in some corner of the school."

Harry walked forward in silence, carefully grasping the butt of the gun. Snape seemed to not want to let go yet, but when Harry grabbed the barrel with his other hand, he let go.

"Purple Lamp Flower," Snape said in a low voice. "The name of this gun is Purple Lamp 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, smaller than a regular flintlock, and there were several dents and scratches on the gun body. Harry wiped away 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 ornament 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 create two small brackets on the wall, and then hung the gun up. Then he walked to the library dejectedly, kicking his toes. He wanted to check the flower language of the Purple Lamp Flower.

"Harry, are you okay?" Zhang Qiu sat in the 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, perhaps 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 deeper sorrow 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 going out 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 check the flower language of the Purple Lamp Flower first. Snape said the name of this gun is Purple Lamp Flower."

They found the book introducing flower language. The book wrote that the flower language of the Purple Lamp Flower can be joy, can also be a bet, or sad love, eternal longing, and even some people gave it the meaning of jealousy and melancholic 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 Lamp Flower was taken by Mia?" Zhang Qiu pointed to the glaring 【Jealousy】 word at the end. "She ultimately failed to 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 worth talking about achievements," Zhang Qiu shook her head gently. "Better to be evasive."

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

"Harry, I really don't want to poke through it. The Purple Lamp Flower has no qualification to be put into the Trophy Room at all. 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 selfishness, he kept wanting 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 curves and wooden carvings, and a golden nameplate had also appeared on the wall quietly.

"Artemis"

"Possessing 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 that they were very similar to the handwriting of the Half-Blood Prince, and he suddenly felt relieved.

Snape would not be easily defeated. He would continue to face all wind and snow alone, but tenaciously, just like before. ===== CHAPTER 445 =====