Chapter 320 — Snake Transformation
"Uh… um," Harry replied absentmindedly.
His eyes remained fixed on the blackboard behind his glasses, but his gaze was vacant, as though he were staring straight through it at something far beyond.
The scene he had just witnessed continued replaying in his mind.
Cedric and Cho Chang walking side by side through the corridor, looking so affectionate.
Why hadn't that girl seemed to notice him at all?
Cedric hadn't even been selected by the Goblet of Fire last year, while Harry had won the tournament.
They deserve to be admired by others.
Harry felt an uncomfortable sense of imbalance. Jealousy burned inside him.
But after thinking about it again, he realized how ridiculous he was being.
He had no right to feel jealous at all.
Jealousy makes people ugly.
And right now, he felt incredibly ugly.
"Tap, tap, tap."
The sound brought him back to reality.
Hermione noticed Harry's distraction and tapped the blackboard several times with her wand, trying to bring his attention back.
She subconsciously frowned.
It was exactly the expression Professor McGonagall would make upon catching a student daydreaming during class.
Harry finally managed to focus and temporarily pushed the dark thoughts in his mind aside.
"Hogwarts' walls and grounds are protected by many ancient spells, ensuring the physical and mental safety of everyone on campus," Hermione explained slowly, pointing toward the blackboard.
This was subtly mentioned in Hogwarts: A History.
"Time and space do affect magic, Harry, but you might be an exception. That spell has made your connection with Lord Voldemort incredibly strong—almost inseparable, perhaps even indivisible."
"You often connect with his thoughts through your dreams. That means your mental defenses are at their weakest during those moments, giving him an opportunity to take advantage of you."
"But there are exceptions, aren't there?"
"Sometimes you're awake and still find yourself connected to Lord Voldemort's perspective."
Harry nodded, barely managing to concentrate on Hermione's explanation.
"Then it's possible that his emotions are simply too intense and are affecting you, even while you're conscious."
"During the holidays, I tried to deduce a possible method of practicing Occlumency."
"First, temporarily relax your mind. Then gather your emotions together and use them to form an effective resistance."
"This is another method I came up with, although I don't know whether it will actually work."
"Because we don't need to deceive him. We simply need to drive his intrusion out of your mind. In that sense, it should be simpler."
Professor Dumbledore also believed the plan might be feasible.
"Anger is too intense and difficult to control. Sadness might actually be a 'good' emotion because it contains enough resilience and persistence, but we can't allow ourselves to become sad. At least not now."
"Most of the time, we're still carefree and happy, aren't we?"
Harry nodded blankly.
He felt anything but happy.
Hermione may have inadvertently touched upon the fundamental reason behind the extraordinary difficulty of practicing Occlumency.
The endless sorrow and pain surging through his heart and spreading throughout his body were persistent and intense.
"Fear isn't an emotion that's easy to use either. If Lord Voldemort amplifies it, your mind could completely collapse."
"Perhaps we first need to find an emotion that we can actually exploit to resist Lord Voldemort's invasion."
Hermione analyzed the problem meticulously, almost talking to herself.
She didn't notice that Harry's eyes had begun to redden.
His body started trembling uncontrollably.
A sharp, stabbing pain suddenly surged through him.
Harry instinctively touched the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
A bloodthirsty impulse began rising within him.
A desire to tear something apart.
He felt that terrifying, serpentine sensation again.
A yearning to attack.
To destroy.
He was becoming like a snake.
His instincts told him that he needed to coil his powerful body around his enemy and crush him first.
The source of all this was an unexpected visitor who had recently appeared at the Department of Mysteries.
The Department of Mysteries was the most mysterious department in the entire Ministry of Magic.
It was located on the ninth floor—the lowest floor of the Ministry.
Apart from the employees who worked there, almost no one ever appeared in that place.
Very few people knew what they were actually researching.
The wizards who worked there were collectively known as the Unspeakables.
Their working hours were irregular, and their workplace consisted of a circular chamber filled with numerous doors, which was further divided into many smaller rooms.
"Excuse me, sir. Even with the Minister's authorization, this is one of the Ministry of Magic's top secrets. You're not permitted to enter."
A guard blocked the way of a man attempting to enter.
The man wore a completely black cloak.
It was impossible to tell whether he was fat or thin, as his entire body was concealed beneath the dark fabric.
Even though he had already obtained Umbridge's signature, the elegant handwriting looked strangely out of place against the woman's unpleasant appearance.
She wanted to climb higher.
And she would continue striving toward that goal.
Upon hearing the guard's response, the man's pale face, hidden beneath the hood, twisted into an extremely manic expression.
His hand suddenly tightened around the wand concealed beneath his black robes.
But he restrained himself.
"Then I'll come again next time."
The man gave the guard a deep look, as though he wanted to memorize his face.
Lord Voldemort had deceived Umbridge and gained considerable advantages from it.
Now, he was also extremely interested in the Ministry of Magic's secrets and wanted to obtain that information openly, satisfying his insatiable curiosity.
Unfortunately, he had been stopped.
He hadn't expected that even the Minister's authority would sometimes prove ineffective.
He couldn't simply force his way inside.
Or rather, he had reservations.
The potential benefits weren't enough to justify the risks.
Dumbledore was no longer at Hogwarts.
Organizationally speaking, he was now associated with the Ministry of Magic.
That meant the old man could appear here at any time.
However, Lord Voldemort didn't mind teaching them a small lesson once he possessed enough power to do so.
He turned and left.
"Oh? Noel, who was that?"
A middle-aged man approached the guard after watching Voldemort leave.
"Who knows?"
Noel, the bald, thin, tall guard, replied listlessly.
"This place is so eerie that nobody wants to come here. It's always us insignificant nobodies who have to stand guard."
"Arthur, behind you…"
Noel's face suddenly filled with terror.
A stone guardian statue seemed to melt.
Then, before their eyes, it rapidly transformed into a gigantic blue python.
"What's behind me?" Arthur Weasley asked in confusion.
"Why does it feel a little cold?"
He touched his face.
Something seemed to have brushed against him.
Or rather—
Something had licked him.
A forked snake's tongue.
"Arthur, don't move!"
Noel screamed.
Noel vaguely remembered an old saying that encountering a python would only provoke its ferocity.
Whether that was true or not was irrelevant.
The most important thing was that this was a creature created through Transfiguration.
Every movement it made was controlled by its master.
And its bloodthirsty, cruel nature had been inherited from that master.
Expecting such a creature to show mercy was simply a joke.