It took Harry and Ron a while to ge

It took Harry and Ron a while to get used to navigating their way around the castle. There were so many long stone corridors, winding this way and that like meandering rivers, and the stairs seemed to migrate from place to place. Some of the doors didn't open unless you said the right word, which Harry found very odd. Wouldn't it have been easier to put door knobs on?

Ron winced horribly every time he had to say the password to enter the Slytherin common room; for some reason, he seemed to have a violent aversion to saying the word Pureblood. Harry, who secretly thought it was rather silly to talk to doors when most of them didn't even talk back, took pity on his friend and showed him how to walk right through the wood of the door itself, without waiting for it to open when he spoke. It took Ron a little while to get the magic right, but he worked very hard at it when no one else was around to watch. Soon he was walking through the Slytherin common room door as easily as a fairy, muttering Godric or halfblood or other random things under his breath. He seemed to take particular pleasure in pretending that the password was Muggle whenever Draco Malfoy was nearby. Draco eyed Harry and Ron warily at times, but he remained very polite around Harry. He took a great deal of interest in Harry and asked him quite a few questions about fairies and how powerful they were. He often asked Harry how he had defeated the Dark Lord as a baby, but Harry really didn't have much to say, since he couldn't remember any of it.

The other Slytherin students seemed very nice and friendly as well, even if a few of them seemed a little nervous around Harry. Harry and Ron also made friends with students from other houses, such as Hermione, and Trevor's friend Neville.

There were all sorts of mysterious creatures roaming around the castle, and Harry loved getting to know them. He was very surprised to see pale mist-like wizards lingering in the hallways and on the stairs, and students walking right through them. "They are ghosts," explained Ron when Harry asked. "They are the souls of wizards who died long ago, but who weren't ready to pass on."

"Pass on to what?" asked Harry, fascinated, but Ron said he wasn't really sure; maybe they should ask Hermione some time, since she seemed to have read a lot of books. Harry quickly made friends with the Bloody Baron, a wispy nobleman who liked to haunt the Slytherin dungeons. He was very good at telling stories, although some of his stories were almost as sad as Shard's.

And then there was Peeves, who liked to pelt things at people. He was worse than a squirrel throwing nuts, and Harry had to speak sternly to him a few times about the dangers of taking people's eyes out. Peeves wasn't really a wizard, and not really a ghost either. Hermione, who seemed to know almost everything, said that Peeves was a poltergeist, but the word didn't mean much to Harry. But finally, after being doused with an unexpected bucket of dishwater, he realized that Peeves was just an elemental spirit of sorts, like the water sprites who liked to push fairies into the pond when they were fishing and laugh about it afterwards. The secret to getting elementals to behave was of course to bring them lots of buttons as presents; for some reason, elementals just adored buttons. Harry and Ron gave him as many buttons as they could spare, and Peeves was so pleased with his growing button collection that he began to act quite decently to both of them. He took his pent-up elemental frustration out on other random passersby instead, such as the cranky old caretaker named Filch and his very sarcastic cat. Harry soon ran out of buttons, but Ron took advantage of his newfound ability to walk through doors to borrow some more buttons from his brother Percy; he said that Percy had too many starched button-down shirts anyway.

...

Potions was the loveliest class Harry could imagine. He could smell plants and dried herbs from the moment he entered the dungeon with Ron, and he felt very excited at the prospect of learning to brew medicines. Leaf had taught him quite a bit, but Harry was sure that the pale dark-haired professor - whose name, Ron told him with a strange shudder, was Snape - must know even more.

Professor Snape must have been terribly eager to teach, for he went straight down to business as soon as he entered the classroom, without even stopping to greet the students first.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," declared the potions master, looking out over the class with his coal-black eyes. Harry couldn't help smiling in delight. Leaf and Twig had warned him that human wizards liked to wave their wands around a lot and say funny words when doing magic, instead of just relaxing and letting the magic flow through them - but apparently, this was not true of all wizards. Harry was relieved to have found a teacher who was as clever as a fairy about these things.

"As such," continued Snape, "I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few..." He broke off and stared at Harry. "Why are you smiling, Mr. Potter?"

"I'm just excited about this class," said Harry eagerly.

"Really?" Snape's black gaze lingered on Harry's face. "Mr. Potter. James Potter's long lost son. Our new... celebrity." He spoke in a funny way, as if he had a slight toothache.

Harry had no idea what a celebrity was, but he felt too shy to ask. Snape drew closer. "Perhaps you can tell me, Mr. Potter, what I would get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

For some reason, Hermione began to wave her arm in the air.

Harry thought about it for a moment. "A really bad-tasting stomach medicine? You need to add quite a bit of peony root to it, of course, or it will make you frightfully sleepy. And I would add a lot of honey to that."

Snape sputtered. "You would... add honey? To the Draught of Living Death?"

Harry nodded, pleased that he knew the answer. "Yes. It's terribly bitter, especially without lily..."

"What-?" Snape turned a deadly pale now. "Especially without... Oh, you mean the asphodel. Yes, the asphodel is a lily, of course. For a moment, I thought you were talking about..." He was beginning to look a little unwell, and Harry wondered if the master couldn't have used a little wormwood infusion himself at that moment.

"But if you add asphodel to the wormwood, that will help the bitterness a little. The peony will help you stay awake, and with a dash of honey, you should be able to swallow it." Harry beamed up at the potions professor. "It should make even the worst stomach ache go away."

"The Draught of Living Death will make a stomach ache go away?" The professor seemed strangely confused for a moment; maybe he really did need some medicine. "Tell me then, Mr. Potter," he said with an odd little growl in his voice, "where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

A bezoar? Oh, no! Now Harry realized that the poor master must be terribly ill. He must have eaten something tainted, if he wanted Harry to find him a bezoar. No wonder his voice sounded snarly! Harry leapt up from his desk and approached Professor Snape. If the master was really that sick, there was no time to go looking for goats. Harry hadn't even seen any of them around the castle so far. This called for a more direct approach.

Harry placed his hand soothingly on Snape's stomach and focused all his magic on helping the poor master feel better.

Snape gasped. "What... what are you doing, child? And what is that? That curious sensation, flowing through me..." He stared, wide-eyed at Harry.

Harry smiled up at him. "There. Are you feeling better now?"

"Feeling... better?"

"Does your stomach still hurt?"

Snape looked at him blankly for a moment. Then the slightest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his thin mouth. "I didn't want you to go looking for a bezoar because I needed one, Mr. Potter; I merely wanted to see if you knew the answer to my question."

"Oh." Harry flushed and looked down. Well, how could he have known that?

"But I do feel a great deal better, now that you mention it," said the potions master quietly. "What sort of magic was that?"

"Fairy magic," whispered Harry.

"I see." The master looked at him for a long time. "It seems to heal a great deal more than stomach aches, Mr. Potter. Perhaps it is even enough to cure the bitterness of wormwood..." Changing the subject abruptly, he said softly: "How odd... You really do remind me a great deal of your mother, Harry. It must be your eyes."

...

Harry gazed, baffled, at the dozens of broomsticks that were lying in the grass. His class schedule had said that they were going to have flying glass next, but the teacher seemed to have changed her mind and decided to begin with a little house cleaning instead. But why were they going to sweep outside?

"Ever done any flying before, Harry?" whispered Ron.

"Flying? Yes, a bit," said Harry. "But it seems that we are going to clean something first." He brightened. "Or maybe we are supposed to bring the brooms with us when we are flying, and clean the school from the outside? Perhaps Madam Hooch wants to get rid of some of the cobwebs under the eaves?"

Ron stared at him for a moment. Then he giggled. "Oh. I forgot that you wouldn't know about brooms. We fly on the brooms, Harry."

"On the brooms?" Harry glanced down at his school broom. "Why?"

But before Ron could answer, Madam Hooch blew her whistle; she sounded like a hawk who meant business.

"Step up to your brooms, everyone," she said briskly. "Now, hold out your hands and command the brooms to rise. When it's high enough, grasp it with your hand, and mount your broom carefully."

Harry glanced around, baffled. Draco barked something at his broom, and the wooden shaft rose slowly into the air. Draco sat down on his broomstick with a small smile.

Hermione must

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

Nó đã Harry và Ron một lúc để có sử dụng để điều hướng theo cách của họ xung quanh lâu đài. Có rất nhiều hành lang dài đá, quanh co theo cách này và rằng giống như con sông, và cầu thang dường như di chuyển từ nơi này đến nơi. Một số các cửa ra vào không mở trừ khi bạn nói những từ thích hợp, Harry tìm thấy rất lẻ. Sẽ không có dễ dàng hơn để lên tay nắm cửa?Ron winced khủng khiếp mỗi khi ông đã nói mật khẩu để vào phòng sinh hoạt chung Slytherin; Đối với một số lý do, ông dường như có một chán ghét bạo lực để nói lời Pureblood. Harry, người bí mật nghĩ rằng nó là khá ngớ ngẩn để nói chuyện với cửa ra vào khi hầu hết trong số họ thậm chí không nói chuyện trở lại, đã tiếc về người bạn của ông và trình bày cho ông làm thế nào để đi bộ bên phải thông qua gỗ cửa chính nó, mà không cần chờ đợi cho nó để mở khi ông nói. Phải mất Ron một chút để có được sự kỳ diệu đúng, nhưng ông đã làm việc rất chăm chỉ vào nó khi không có ai khác là xung quanh để xem. Sớm ông đã đi bộ qua cửa phòng sinh hoạt chung của Slytherin dễ dàng như một nàng tiên, họ lẩm bẩm Godric hoặc halfblood hoặc ngẫu nhiên những thứ khác theo hơi thở của mình. Ông dường như có niềm vui đặc biệt trong giả vờ rằng mật khẩu là Muggle bất cứ khi nào Draco Malfoy được gần đó. Draco mắt Harry và Ron warily vào các thời điểm, nhưng ông vẫn rất lịch sự xung quanh thành phố Harry. Ông đã rất nhiều quan tâm trong Harry và hỏi anh ta khá một vài câu hỏi về nàng tiên và họ đã cách mạnh mẽ. Ông thường hỏi Harry làm thế nào ông đã đánh bại Dark Lord là một em bé, nhưng Harry thực sự không có nhiều để nói, kể từ khi ông không thể nhớ bất kỳ của nó.Các sinh viên khác của Slytherin dường như rất tốt đẹp và thân thiện là tốt, ngay cả khi một vài trong số họ dường như một chút lo lắng xung quanh thành phố Harry. Harry và Ron cũng làm cho bạn bè với các sinh viên từ những ngôi nhà khác, chẳng hạn như Hermione, và người bạn của Trevor Neville.Có tất cả các loại sinh vật bí ẩn chuyển vùng xung quanh lâu đài, và Harry yêu nhận được để hiểu biết nó. Ông đã rất ngạc nhiên khi thấy phù thủy như sương mờ nhạt nán lại trong các hành lang và trên cầu thang, và sinh viên đi bộ bên phải qua chúng. "Họ là bóng ma," giải thích Ron khi Harry hỏi. "Họ là linh hồn của phù thủy người qua đời lâu trước đây, nhưng những người không sẵn sàng để vượt qua.""Vượt qua ngày với những gì?" hỏi Harry, quyến rũ, nhưng Ron cho biết ông đã không thực sự chắc chắn; có lẽ họ nên hỏi Hermione một số thời gian, kể từ khi cô ấy dường như đã đọc rất nhiều sách. Harry một cách nhanh chóng làm bạn với Nam tước đẫm máu, một nhà quý tộc vô thích ám ảnh Slytherin dungeon. Ông là rất tốt lúc kể chuyện, mặc dù một số câu chuyện của ông đã gần như buồn của Shard.And then there was Peeves, who liked to pelt things at people. He was worse than a squirrel throwing nuts, and Harry had to speak sternly to him a few times about the dangers of taking people's eyes out. Peeves wasn't really a wizard, and not really a ghost either. Hermione, who seemed to know almost everything, said that Peeves was a poltergeist, but the word didn't mean much to Harry. But finally, after being doused with an unexpected bucket of dishwater, he realized that Peeves was just an elemental spirit of sorts, like the water sprites who liked to push fairies into the pond when they were fishing and laugh about it afterwards. The secret to getting elementals to behave was of course to bring them lots of buttons as presents; for some reason, elementals just adored buttons. Harry and Ron gave him as many buttons as they could spare, and Peeves was so pleased with his growing button collection that he began to act quite decently to both of them. He took his pent-up elemental frustration out on other random passersby instead, such as the cranky old caretaker named Filch and his very sarcastic cat. Harry soon ran out of buttons, but Ron took advantage of his newfound ability to walk through doors to borrow some more buttons from his brother Percy; he said that Percy had too many starched button-down shirts anyway....Potions was the loveliest class Harry could imagine. He could smell plants and dried herbs from the moment he entered the dungeon with Ron, and he felt very excited at the prospect of learning to brew medicines. Leaf had taught him quite a bit, but Harry was sure that the pale dark-haired professor - whose name, Ron told him with a strange shudder, was Snape - must know even more.Professor Snape must have been terribly eager to teach, for he went straight down to business as soon as he entered the classroom, without even stopping to greet the students first."There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," declared the potions master, looking out over the class with his coal-black eyes. Harry couldn't help smiling in delight. Leaf and Twig had warned him that human wizards liked to wave their wands around a lot and say funny words when doing magic, instead of just relaxing and letting the magic flow through them - but apparently, this was not true of all wizards. Harry was relieved to have found a teacher who was as clever as a fairy about these things."As such," continued Snape, "I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few..." He broke off and stared at Harry. "Why are you smiling, Mr. Potter?""I'm just excited about this class," said Harry eagerly."Really?" Snape's black gaze lingered on Harry's face. "Mr. Potter. James Potter's long lost son. Our new... celebrity." He spoke in a funny way, as if he had a slight toothache.Harry had no idea what a celebrity was, but he felt too shy to ask. Snape drew closer. "Perhaps you can tell me, Mr. Potter, what I would get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"For some reason, Hermione began to wave her arm in the air.Harry thought about it for a moment. "A really bad-tasting stomach medicine? You need to add quite a bit of peony root to it, of course, or it will make you frightfully sleepy. And I would add a lot of honey to that."Snape sputtered. "You would... add honey? To the Draught of Living Death?"Harry nodded, pleased that he knew the answer. "Yes. It's terribly bitter, especially without lily...""What-?" Snape turned a deadly pale now. "Especially without... Oh, you mean the asphodel. Yes, the asphodel is a lily, of course. For a moment, I thought you were talking about..." He was beginning to look a little unwell, and Harry wondered if the master couldn't have used a little wormwood infusion himself at that moment."But if you add asphodel to the wormwood, that will help the bitterness a little. The peony will help you stay awake, and with a dash of honey, you should be able to swallow it." Harry beamed up at the potions professor. "It should make even the worst stomach ache go away.""The Draught of Living Death will make a stomach ache go away?" The professor seemed strangely confused for a moment; maybe he really did need some medicine. "Tell me then, Mr. Potter," he said with an odd little growl in his voice, "where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"A bezoar? Oh, no! Now Harry realized that the poor master must be terribly ill. He must have eaten something tainted, if he wanted Harry to find him a bezoar. No wonder his voice sounded snarly! Harry leapt up from his desk and approached Professor Snape. If the master was really that sick, there was no time to go looking for goats. Harry hadn't even seen any of them around the castle so far. This called for a more direct approach.Harry placed his hand soothingly on Snape's stomach and focused all his magic on helping the poor master feel better.Snape gasped. "What... what are you doing, child? And what is that? That curious sensation, flowing through me..." He stared, wide-eyed at Harry.Harry smiled up at him. "There. Are you feeling better now?""Feeling... better?""Does your stomach still hurt?"Snape looked at him blankly for a moment. Then the slightest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his thin mouth. "I didn't want you to go looking for a bezoar because I needed one, Mr. Potter; I merely wanted to see if you knew the answer to my question.""Oh." Harry flushed and looked down. Well, how could he have known that?"But I do feel a great deal better, now that you mention it," said the potions master quietly. "What sort of magic was that?""Fairy magic," whispered Harry."I see." The master looked at him for a long time. "It seems to heal a great deal more than stomach aches, Mr. Potter. Perhaps it is even enough to cure the bitterness of wormwood..." Changing the subject abruptly, he said softly: "How odd... You really do remind me a great deal of your mother, Harry. It must be your eyes."
...

Harry gazed, baffled, at the dozens of broomsticks that were lying in the grass. His class schedule had said that they were going to have flying glass next, but the teacher seemed to have changed her mind and decided to begin with a little house cleaning instead. But why were they going to sweep outside?

"Ever done any flying before, Harry?" whispered Ron.

"Flying? Yes, a bit," said Harry. "But it seems that we are going to clean something first." He brightened. "Or maybe we are supposed to bring the brooms with us when we are flying, and clean the school from the outside? Perhaps Madam Hooch wants to get rid of some of the cobwebs under the eaves?"

Ron stared at him for a moment. Then he giggled. "Oh. I forgot that you wouldn't know about brooms. We fly on the brooms, Harry."

"On the brooms?" Harry glanced down at his school broom. "Why?"

But before Ron could answer, Madam Hooch blew her whistle; she sounded like a hawk who meant business.

"Step up to your brooms, everyone," she said briskly. "Now, hold out your hands and command the brooms to rise. When it's high enough, grasp it with your hand, and mount your broom carefully."

Harry glanced around, baffled. Draco barked something at his broom, and the wooden shaft rose slowly into the air. Draco sat down on his broomstick with a small smile.

Hermione must