By repeating the spell a few times, the Gori can narrow down the area enough to pinpoint the exact location of the Child of Prophecy, and then establish contact through dreams, or lock onto the other party's location for future purposes.
Of course, this kind of thing can't be done too often, and we can't just take care of the Child of Prophecy; we also need to visit the misunderstood boy to prevent Dumbledore from finding out.
If a group of students keep having similar dreams, it will eventually attract the attention of professors.
The Gori is fully aware of this, so it proceeds cautiously with every step, not daring to rush things, and it can't rush things anyway.
He withdrew his gaze and looked at the Vampire in the corner, who had just had blood drawn and was now curled up like a large bat, lying on the ground, unable to maintain its human form.
We're running low on spellcasting materials; we'll probably have to use one again next time.
That's not all. According to the original plan, the people in the Gori should have arrived in Hogsmeade by now, but he can't even contact them to confirm Hogsmeade exact location.
If you want to transmit information to the outside world, it will consume far more blood than this small-scale dream exploration.
Thinking of this, Gori couldn't help but close her eyes again, lean back against the stone wall, and furrow her brow slightly.
He could only hope that Hagrid could bring back something truly useful. The blood his useless henchmen had drunk wasn't even enough to replenish his own energy. If he could drink a few sips of decent blood to recover some of his energy, he could at least sustain himself for a few more spells.
He slowly adjusted his breathing, suppressing that trace of anxiety deep within his heart, and returned to that calm yet weary silence, as if he had never woken up.
A new day begins with a dream of boundless springtime beauty.
Herman's consciousness slowly rose in the dream, and the first things he perceived were temperature and touch.
A warm, close-fitting, soft and elastic touch pressed against him. He looked down and saw a large expanse of bare shoulders and neck. The porcelain-white skin shone with a warm luster in the dim light. Golden hair fell between his collarbone and shoulder blades, with a few strands clinging to the light sweat stains on the side of his neck.
Draco was lying on her side in his arms with her back to him, and there was almost no clothing between them.
His arm encircled her waist, his palm pressed against the smooth curve of her abdomen, his fingertips able to feel the subtle rise and fall of her breath.
Her back was pressed against his chest, and her body heat transmitted through that thin layer of skin, making it feel almost unreal.
Herman felt his heart pounding from deep within his chest, and he could hear the roar of his own pulse.
He instinctively tightened his arms around her, Draco seemed to sense it, turning over so that the distance between them suddenly shrank to the point where their noses touched.
She looked up at him, her lips slightly parted, her eyelashes fluttering like two small fans in the dim light.
Herman's gaze lingered on the outline of her lips, then slowly moved down, across her jawline, neck, and collarbone, until there was nothing more below—the smooth, warm, and unadorned curves fell into his peripheral vision.
He wanted to move, or rather, his body had already moved before his mind.
The next instant, an uncomfortable sensation came from below, causing him to abruptly open his eyes.
The lake-shaped ceiling above my head was still swaying, and eerie green light patterns moved back and forth across the dome, just as they had before I fell asleep.
He lay on his back on the four-poster bed, the blanket half draped over his lower abdomen and half slipped off the edge of the bed, the collar of his robe rubbed askew to one side.
He propped himself up and sat up, looked down at himself, and then stood there silently for two seconds.
He slowly lifted a corner of the blanket, stared at it silently for a while, and then slowly pulled the blanket back over himself.
Youth is about having plenty of energy and vitality. Although there's a bit of swelling and pain, it at least means there's nothing wrong with my body.
Herman calmed himself down in bed for a long time before getting out of bed and going into the bathroom.
After using the toilet, washing up, and changing clothes, the whole process took almost twice as long as usual.
When I went out, the corridor was quiet, with only the occasional sound of a pet coming from the other end of the common lounge.
Herman walked to Draco's room and knocked. After all, he had dreamed about her and even taken advantage of her; it wouldn't be right not to invite her to class together.
The door opened, but not fully.
Draco peeked out half her face. Her blonde hair was neatly combed, but there was still a trace of weariness at the corners of her eyes, and her cheeks were flushed with an unnatural red. Her gaze darted away before finally landing on Herman's face.
Her gaze lingered on him for less than half a second before quickly shifting away. She pursed her lips slightly, as if she wanted to say something but swallowed it back.
"Good morning," Herman tried to make his tone sound normal.
"Hmm." Draco responded with a slightly muffled voice, then quickly closed the door.
Herman stood in the corridor, staring at the closed door for a while. Before he could figure out what was going on, the door next to him opened.
Harry came out, her school uniform neatly worn and her hair styled, but her complexion was clearly off.
Her face usually wore either indifference or mockery, rarely showing a third expression. Today, however, her indifference was tinged with a faint pallor, and there was a barely perceptible bluish-gray under her eyes, making her look as if she had been trampled by something all night.
"Good morning," Herman said.
"Hmm," Harry replied, and then fell silent.
The two stood in the corridor for a while, neither of them speaking first.
Finally Draco pushed open the door, changed into her school uniform, and walked ahead at a faster pace than usual, without looking back at Herman and Harry.
Herman followed, turned his head and asked, "Didn't you sleep well?"
Draco paused for a moment. "Slept very well." Her voice sounded like it was being squeezed out of her nose, and then she quickened her pace.
Herman lagged half a step behind and turned to look at Harry.
Harry shrugged, much more relaxed than he had expected, her tone as casual as if she were talking about what to have for breakfast. "I had some nightmares."
"Nightmare?"
"Yeah, I dreamt I was being chased by a dog, and then the dog licked me," Harry said casually, but Herman felt she was mocking him.
He didn't know if Harry had ever been licked by a dog, but he himself had definitely been licked by a dog, specifically the big black dog that Harry had summoned.
The three people walked down the corridor toward the spiral staircase.
The morning in Slytherin was much quieter than usual. The few Slytherin students who passed by in the corridor all had similar weariness on their faces. Some rubbed their eyes and yawned, while others walked with their heads down and almost bumped into the armor in the corner of the wall.
Herman looked at the listless students, then glanced up at the lake flowing above the Slytherin Common Room, and suddenly realized something:
Just as I suspected, sleeping in the basement is bad for your health.
Poor air circulation and insufficient light make it easy to have bizarre and stimulating dreams. It's definitely due to the environment and has nothing to do with myself!
When the three of them arrived at the History of Magic classroom, there were already quite a few people sitting there.