They once exchanged glances in the shadows of Diagon Alley, and shared the same moon on the top of the astronomy tower, but ultimately they went their separate ways in the rift between light and darkness. When the smoke of the war cleared and the winner's medal burned on Harry's chest, he read the truth in those three-word last words: those venomous taunts were disguise, those deliberate alienations were protection, and the last figure standing in front of him was Master Slytherin's clumsy gentleness to the extreme.
Today, the Gryffindor flag is still flying, but no one will stain his textbook with cauldron ashes in Potions class, and no one will ask him in a mean tone at the end of the corridor, "Potter, does your scar hurt again?"
The wind lifted Harry's wizard robes, like a belated hug.
Concept: It turns out that the hatred between two people only requires some misunderstandings and prejudices. It could also be a person.