days at Hogwarts

Chapter 522 Harry's Holiday Life

The third Friday in July, morning.

The sky outside the window was still dark blue, with only a faint paleness on the distant horizon.

The air was muggy and a drowsy silence reigned over Privet Drive.

Harry woke up from the bed, still a little dizzy, and the images that he had not completely forgotten flashed in his mind. It was a long and dim corridor, and at the end of each corridor was a dead end or a locked door...

"Another nightmare..."

Harry raised his hand and touched his forehead. The slightly damp area was sweat, and the rough area next to it was a scab. During this period, the scar would occasionally sting and was very uncomfortable. This meant that Voldemort's power was becoming stronger again, which was nothing surprising.

But it doesn't hurt today.

Harry put down his hand and slowly breathed a sigh of relief: "It seems that it is not the influence of Voldemort..."

He guessed that these dreams were probably related to the trapped emotions he experienced when he was awake.

There was a sound of flapping wings outside the window and the owl postman selling newspapers landed on the windowsill. Harry hurriedly stood up, took out a few copper Knuts and handed them over, and took this morning's Daily Prophet.

After quickly glancing at the headlines on the front page, Harry sighed softly and looked up at the sky which was gradually getting brighter. The question that had been hanging in his mind became more and more urgent: Why hasn't anything happened yet?

A feeling of uneasiness mixed with anxiety and worry once again unexpectedly overwhelmed him, tormenting him slowly and persistently.

It was like this for a long time. Every morning at five o'clock, he would wake up before the alarm went off and pay for the newspaper delivered by owl. Unfortunately, continuing to subscribe to the newspaper was of no use.

These days, he just glanced at the front page before throwing the newspaper aside. The idiots who ran the newspapers would surely put the news on the front page once they knew Voldemort was back, and that was all Harry cared about.

Twice a week, an owl would deliver the two letters he was looking forward to, one from Ron and one from Sirius. Harry had been counting on letters from the wizarding world to bring him some useful news, but this expectation had been wiped out long ago.

That was the letter from the first Friday after the holiday:
"Dear Harry: We can't say too much about that matter. My mother asked us not to talk about anything important, so that our letters will not be sent to the wrong place. We are very busy now, but I can't tell you in detail here. Many things happened. We will tell you when we meet."

Sirius's letter did not reveal any information either. Fortunately, it contained some words of warning and comfort, instead of half-hiding and half-revealing, which made people feel itchy: "I know this must be very frustrating for you. As long as you behave yourself, everything will be fine. Be careful and don't do anything rash..."

Harry dropped his head dejectedly, noting that all the normally shiny cars were now parked in the driveway, looking dusty. Only Uncle Vernon's car was a bit cleaner. The once lush green grass had turned dry and brown. The watering hose had been taken out of service due to the severe drought.

As the days of July wore on, the Surrey summer grew hotter.

The residents of Privet Drive usually amused themselves by washing cars and mowing lawns, but now that neither of these tasks could be done, they could only hide in their cold houses, with the windows wide open, hoping for a nonexistent breeze.

If there was anything worth looking forward to on such days, it was that he had a quarter of an hour after dinner every day to call and chat with his other two good friends, although Loren and Hermione could only wait for news by reading the newspaper.

Before that, he could only hide in his room and practice magic to pass the time.

……

It was late afternoon in the Dursleys' living room.

Harry watched TV with the Dursleys. The two adults sat together, while he sat alone on a single sofa a little further away.

From time to time the Dursleys glanced at each other and then at Harry cautiously.

It seems that because he grew too fast in a short time, the black-haired boy with glasses looked a little thin, with no flesh on his cheeks and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. He looked a little sick. He wore a gray T-shirt with loose jeans and newly bought sneakers...

He looked no different from an ordinary middle school student - except that he would use magic to create enough water for Vernon to wash his car and ice cubes to keep the room cool every day...

Harry pretended not to notice their gazes. All three of them felt extremely awkward, but they still remained silent tacitly and listened to the advertising song for the worthless fruit and bran nutritious breakfast on TV.

Harry was waiting for the seven o'clock news, trying to find some clues about Voldemort and the Death Eaters from the Muggle news, such as some major disasters, such as the disappearance of people for unknown reasons, or some strange accidents...

The heat and embarrassment tormented the three people's hearts. It seemed that the sound of oil sizzling could be heard in the air. At this moment, an old lady walked slowly past the window, and her old voice came into the room:

"Good afternoon, the Dursleys... Harry, come to my house for tea when you have time..."

Harry knew her, of course, Mrs. Figg, who lived next door in Wisteria Road, had many cats and a strange temper. She seemed to be much warmer to Harry this holiday, probably because Aunt Petunia had explained to the neighbors that he was not an incorrigible little hooligan, nor was he being reformed at St. Brutus's Incorrigible Juvenile Delinquents Center.

"I will, thank you for asking, Mrs. Figg," Harry replied in a hoarse voice.

The old man turned a corner and his figure gradually disappeared, leaving only the swaying, withered hydrangea bushes, breaking the stiff and stagnant atmosphere. Vernon moved his hips, and the fat on his body trembled:

"Tea. Dudley is out for tea too, right?"

"He went to the Porches' house," said Aunt Petunia with a smile. "He made a lot of new friends and everyone likes him so much that he doesn't have to stay at home playing games all day."

Harry didn't say anything because the music for the seven o'clock news had already started, and he was so nervous that his internal organs were slightly tense.

Headline news: Spanish baggage handlers' strike enters second week, leaving holidaymakers stranded at airports...

"If it were me, I'd let them enjoy naps for life!"

Harry ignored Uncle Vernon's snarling voice, feeling relieved. After all, if something had really happened, the headlines would have been about death and disaster, not holidaymakers stranded at the airport.

The rest of the news is more mundane, with drought in the South East, a helicopter crashing in a field in Surrey, and then a famous actress divorcing her famous husband... And finally, Bungie the budgie has found a new way to keep cool this summer - he has learned to water ski...

Suddenly, a loud, echoing crack broke the sleepy silence!
Harry stood up suddenly and took out his wand from his jeans pocket like drawing a sword. He was sure that the loud bang just now was made by someone teleporting.

who is it?

Friend or foe?

Just as Harry looked at the street, trying to figure out where the sound came from, two large purple hands reached out from behind, grabbed his collar tightly, and threw him backwards.

"Put it away, boy! Quickly! Don't let anyone see it!"

Uncle Vernon whispered something in his ear, then leaned out the window and shouted, "What a lovely night! Did you hear that car backfire? It gave Petunia and me a fright!"

Harry then noticed that there were several faces of people sticking out of the windows of the neighbors around him. In particular, the lady across the street was staring at them with wide eyes. Perhaps seeing the ugly, crazy smile on Vernon's face, those curious neighbors slowly disappeared from the window. Uncle Vernon turned his head and glared at Harry, and asked in a trembling voice: "What the hell are you doing, kid?"

"What did I do?"

"Make that noise, like a pistol firing, right outside our window."

"I didn't make that sound."

"Don't try to be clever with me, boy. I know what you are up to. You want to do something extraordinary because you are outdone by Dudley..."

ha?
Uncle Vernon actually thought he had made that noise for the sake of attention?

Harry tried hard not to snort.

"We're not stupid, you know." Aunt Petunia said nervously, and she suddenly lowered her voice, "You've used enough magic this holiday, you must abide by the rules, otherwise..."

"It really wasn't me!" Harry wanted to explain, but he couldn't explain himself clearly.

"Never mind the noise, boy!" Uncle Vernon waved his fist. "The next time it happens, I'll lock you up in the shed!"

"Okay..." Aunt Petunia patted her husband's shoulder, her thin horse face expressionless, "Harry, go call Dada back, we have to prepare dinner."

Harry took a deep breath and muttered depressedly, "Got it."

He walked out of the gate with heavy steps, almost paying no attention to where he was walking, and subconsciously walked towards the playground.

The Dursleys were shrewd in some ways but incredibly stupid when it came to their precious son Dudley, who made up stupid lies every night during the summer vacation about going to have tea at the home of one of his cronies, and they actually believed them.

He had seen these people doing this when he occasionally walked around Little Whinging. In fact, Dudley didn't go anywhere for tea. He and his friends spent every night vandalizing public property in the playground, smoking on street corners, and throwing stones at passing cars and children.

I crossed Magnolia Crescent Street, turned onto Magnolia Road, and walked towards the playground which was gradually becoming darker.

At a certain moment, Harry had an impulse - to tie the box to the broom and fly directly to the Burrow.

The urge was so tempting that he would not have been able to resist it if it had not been for Hermione's advice on the train.

The door to the playground was locked, so Harry jumped through it and walked forward on the dry grass. The playground was as empty as the streets around it. He went to the swings and found one that Dudley and his friends had not yet had time to destroy. He sat on it, holding the chain with one arm and looking at the ground sadly.

Dudley would go home on his own when the time came. That guy would never miss any dinner. He just had to wait here.

The night gradually fell, a hot and mellow night arrived, the air was filled with the smell of warm hay, and the only sound was the muffled sound of traffic on the road outside the playground railings...

He didn't know how long he sat on the swing, and then the sound of other people's voices interrupted his meditation.

He looked up. The street lights on the surrounding streets cast a hazy light and shadow. A group of people were talking and laughing as they walked across the amusement park. The one in front was Dudley.

He was still as tall and strong as before, but with a year of strict food control and his newly developed boxing talent, his physique was no longer as fat as before, but became more muscular. However, Harry felt that Dudley's punches were getting harder and more accurate, which was not something worth celebrating.

Harry stifled a yawn as he watched them leave the playground and ambled after them.

"...He squeals like a pig, doesn't he?"

"Nice right hook, Dago."

The wild laughter continued all the way to the lilac tree at the entrance of the street, whereupon the group of people making the wild laughter dispersed.

"see you then."

"See you tomorrow, Da!"

"Goodbye, Dago!"

Harry waited until the voices faded away before he walked out from under the tree, slowly caught up with his cousin who was humming a tune in front of him, and chatted with him in a random manner.

"Hey, Dago!"

"It is you."

"When did you become Dago?"

"none of your business."

"Who did you beat up tonight?"

"Who knows?"

They turned into the narrow alley, much darker than the two streets it connected because of its lack of streetlights, and their footsteps were muffled by the garage wall on one side and a high fence on the other.

"You're so impressive, Da Ge." Harry was stunned for a moment after saying this. For a moment he felt like a first-year Malfoy. This discovery scared him so much that he shut his mouth.

"Your thing is more impressive..." Dudley suddenly shuddered strangely and took a breath of cold air, as if he was drenched in cold water.

The night, which had just been mild and pleasant, suddenly turned bitterly cold.

The next moment, the bright moon and stars and the dim street lights in the alley were swallowed up by darkness. The rumble of cars passing by in the distance and the rustling of leaves nearby gradually faded away. The entire alley was silent, and only the heavy breathing of two people could be heard.

"What the hell are you doing!" Dudley's terrified voice sounded beside him.

"Be quiet, it's not me."

The cold touch gave goose bumps to his back and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Harry smelled a damp, rancid smell and a familiar, strong discomfort lingered in his heart, causing him to stand still in place.

The Dementors are coming.

(End of this chapter)