Every day, meeting a new girl, Harry became more and more aware that he was becoming like his father. But not the one he admired as a child, but the one Professor Snape talked about — self-confident, reckless and cruel. But instead of pain, the thought gave him a strange satisfaction.

Early in the morning, while everyone was still asleep, Harry quietly entered the girl's bedroom. His steps were slow and careful, as if he was afraid to break this fragile moment of silence. In his hands he held a candle, the flame of which barely illuminated the predawn gloom. Uninvited and without further ado, he sat down on the edge of her bed. His gaze was tired and full of inner struggle, but he was not afraid of his behavior and did not look for excuses.

Harry remembered how James Potter had once courted Lily, stopping at nothing to win her heart. Isn't that love? Didn't his father do the same for his mother? Harry saw it as a reflection of his obsession and believed that his feelings were just as pure and sincere.

He had asked Professor McGonagall in advance for permission to enter the girls' bedroom. If someone had asked, he could have said that he had just mixed up the doors, because Hermione lived next door. But inside he knew that wasn't the case. He didn't want to wake the girl up and hear her screams. He just needed to sit next to her, feel her presence and try to sort out his feelings.

Looking at her sleeping face, Harry thought about how much he had changed. He remembered Snape's words and what his father had been like when he was young. But instead of being afraid of this path, he felt confident. He couldn't stop. He needed to understand who he really was and why this girl attracted him so much. The obsession grew by the minute. It's love, and he's a knight. Other knights are not welcome.