days at Hogwarts

Chapter 523 Privet Drive Lane

"[Fluorescence Flashing]"

In the faint white light of the Illumination Charm, Harry stared at the two dark figures in front of him, large hooded figures suspended high above the ground, with neither feet nor faces visible under their robes, as they glided towards him soundlessly, seeming to devour the darkness bit by bit as they moved.

A pair of sticky, scabby gray hands stretched out from the Dementor's robes. An increasingly biting coldness hit him in the face, and the foul, ominous breath filled his lungs, suffocating Harry. He stumbled back two steps.

Seeing this, Dudley stepped back quickly. He couldn't see the Dementors, but he could hear rustling whispers in his ears, as if a corpse was breathing next to his ears. The sound was unclear, but it was chilling.

"Call the Gods to Protect..."

Harry recited the spell instinctively, but perhaps because he hadn't practiced the Patronus Charm for a long time, he paused for a moment and found the spell a little difficult to pronounce.

Biting his tongue, Harry re-organized the key points of the spell and recited word by word: "[Expecto Patronus]"

Wisps of silver smoke emerged from the tip of the staff, weaving into the shape of a tall silver stag. The stag, covered in shining silver light, kicked its front hooves, lowered its head, and pointed its two antlers forward, stabbing straight at the Dementor's heart.

The silver antlers pierced two Dementors respectively, picked them up and threw them into the air. The Dementors let out a hoarse breath, flew away and disappeared into the endless darkness.

The stag looked back and turned into a streak of silver light that broke through the blockade.

Suddenly, the light of the stars, the moon and street lamps illuminated the alley again, a warm and soft breeze blew, the sound of rustling leaves came from the neighbor's garden, and the sound of cars on the street outside filled the ears again.

Harry stood motionless, his chest heaving violently. He did not feel tired. Apart from the panic that had not yet dissipated, there was also a little secret excitement.

The Dementors appeared here, in Little Whinging...

Was it an accident?

Or has Voldemort discovered him?
Dudley was sweating profusely, his face turned blue, and his body trembled slightly involuntarily. The feeling of decay and death was so real. Harry's performance proved that there must be something horrible ahead, but he could not see anything. The unspeakable fear was like muddy water mixed with humus in a swamp, seeping into the depths of his bone marrow.

"Are you all right, Dudley?"

The questioning voice woke Dudley from his dazed state. The residual heat of the summer night gradually brought him back to consciousness. His two dry and cracked lips trembled a few times. Dudley pushed Harry away roughly, his eyebrows raised angrily: "What the hell are you doing!"

When Dudley saw the stick, he took a few steps back as if he had been electrocuted. Without waiting for Harry to explain, he ran towards the Dursleys' house in a panic, without looking back, wishing his legs could fly off.

"Eh……"

Harry watched him turn into Crescent Street, and just as he was about to chase him, he suddenly heard heavy running footsteps behind him. He swiftly turned his wand around and pointed it at the person who was coming.

The grumpy old neighbor came running over, panting. Her gray and white hair was hanging out of her hairnet, a jingling net bag was hanging on her wrist, and her feet were about to slip out of her thick plaid slippers.

"Mrs. Figg?" Harry was about to hide his wand.

"Don't hide, silly boy! What if there are still people of theirs around?"

Mrs. Figg's voice was shrill, her hands tightly clenched in her handkerchief, and she was muttering anxiously: "Oh, I must kill Mundungus Fletcher! I told him a long time ago that if he dared to leave without permission to sell those crucibles of unknown origin, I would skin him alive, and now look at him! Dementors! Fortunately, I asked Tit-Tit to tip me off..."

Harry was stunned to hear the words "Dementors" and "Cauldron" from this old neighbor who likes to keep cats. "You...you are a wizard?"

"I'm a Squib. Let's go. We'll talk on the way. It's not safe here." Mrs. Figg looked around vigilantly and pulled Harry's clothes towards Privet Drive. "Mundungus is the wizard. He is responsible for your safety today. He should have been on duty until midnight, but he ran away!"

"This Mundungus has been following me... wait!" Harry's eyes widened in surprise, "It's him! He Apparated in front of my house!"

"Yes, yes, fortunately I arranged for Tit to hide under a car just in case..." Mrs. Figg kept looking around, moving like her cat, and when she saw Harry put his wand back into his jeans, she screamed in a shrill voice, "Don't put your wand down, I can't help you, I don't have much skills, I can't even transfigure a tea bag."

"Don't worry about the Statute of Secrecy now. The punishment is inevitable. It's death for a dragon, and it's also death for a dragon egg. Speaking of the Reasonable Restraint of Underage Wizards Act..." Mrs. Figg and Harry noticed the figure at the corner of the alley at the same time, and their hearts rose to their throats.

It was not until she slowly approached and saw the man's face clearly that she breathed a sigh of relief. Mrs. Figg whispered, "Oh, it's Mr. Prentiss... Don't put your wand away, child. I've always told you that I'm useless."

"Why didn't you tell me you were a Squib before, Mrs. Figg? I've been to your house so many times..."

Harry thought back to the days when they lived in the cramped stairwell. When the Dursleys went out for something, they would always leave him in the care of Mrs. Figg, and her attitude was not very good.

"Dumbledore told me to keep an eye on you, but not to say anything because you were too young. I'm sorry I upset you, Harry, but if the Dursleys think you've taken to coming to our house, they won't let you in again."

"So, Dumbledore has been sending people to follow me?"

"Yes, of course. After what happened in June, do you expect him to let you wander around on your own? They told me you were very clever, kid..."

Mrs. Figg's voice was somewhat sad, and she twisted her handkerchief tightly in her hands: "Now is not the time to talk about this. Alas... How can Mundungus leave? He should be on duty until midnight. Where can I find him? How can I report this to Dumbledore? I can't Apparate..."

"I have an owl I can lend you."

"Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore needs to take action as soon as possible. Maybe you don't believe it, but I must remind you that the Ministry of Magic now knows it because they have a way to detect the use of magic by minors-"

"Tracing, right?"

Harry interrupted her, the face with black hair and black eyes appeared in front of him, and a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth unconsciously, "The Ministry of Magic won't know, because my friend has helped me remove the traces."

Mrs. Figg opened her mouth, an expression of disbelief appeared on her face, and she murmured unconsciously: "Oh, my dear..."

At this moment, there was a sharp explosion in the air in front of them, followed by a strong stench of tobacco and alcohol. A short and fat man with unshaven beard and wearing a tattered coat suddenly appeared in front of them.

His short bowed legs, long tangled ginger hair, and puffy, bloodshot eyes gave his face the look of a basset hound.

Mrs. Figg glared at the man. "Mundungus Fletcher, I'm going to kill you!" Mundungus, holding the invisibility cloak produced by Borgin and Blog, shrank his neck in fear and looked at Mrs. Figg and then at Harry. "What happened, Figg? Didn't you say you wouldn't reveal your identity?"

"Go to hell with not revealing your identity! The Dementors have even found their way here, you useless liar who is trying to evade responsibility!"

"Dementors?" Mundungus repeated, with a look of horror. "Dementors, here?"

"That's right, right here, you good-for-nothing pile of stinking dung, right here! Dementors attacked the children in your care! And all you did was sell those stolen cauldrons! I told you not to go!" Mrs. Figg picked up her handbag and slapped Mundungus' face and neck with great force, banging and clanging.

"I...ah, I...this business opportunity is rare, you see——"

"Boom bang..."

"Oh! That's enough... that's enough, you mad old cat! Someone must tell Dumbledore!"

"Yes! You'd better go and tell him yourself! Why! Are you not here! To help!"

"I'm going right now, I'm going right now!"

Mundungus lowered his arms that were protecting his head, his face was already bruised and swollen, and with another sharp bang of Apparition, he disappeared from the spot.

……

Hampstead Gardens, 9pm.

Loren sat next to the sofa, waiting for Professor Granger to mark his Charms homework - "Analysis of the basic principles of several teleportation magics with similar effects but completely different implementation paths."

The paper assigned by Professor Flitwick required spells with similar effects and did not specify teleportation magic. If possible, Loren would rather analyze the basic principles of levitation and summoning spells.

There is no need to look up any information. Just list the origins and improvement process of the two types of magic, then copy a few paragraphs of spell principle analysis from Hermione's notebook, and finally make up a conclusion, and a standard paper is completed.

"Unfortunately, Professor Granger has other requests..." Loren muttered, glancing to the side.

Hermione was wearing a summer silk nightgown and had a stern face. She was sitting on the sofa, flipping through a paper. The desk lamp on the small wooden cabinet cast a soft light, illuminating the slightly yellowed parchment in her hand and the densely scribbled letters on it:

"Before the opening of the Hogwarts Express, Portkeys were a way to transport students to magical schools without attracting the attention of Muggles... Every year, one-third of students were late because they could not find their Portkeys or missed the transfer time. In addition, many students would suffer from Portkey phobia, the main symptoms of which were nausea and hysteria..."

"Compared to the mainstream teleportation method, the Floo Network is not without its shortcomings. Due to the ash, heat, and tension, mistakes are often made when clearly stating the destination in the fire. Although serious accidents rarely occur, it does not mean that there are no accidents... One day in 1855, the witch Violet Dillman jumped into the fireplace after quarreling with her husband, choking and hiccuping as she spoke out the address of her mother's home, and then disappeared in the fire. No one could find her until she reappeared years later..."

Hermione flipped through the pages and found no detailed introduction to the witch Violet Dillman. She couldn't help but look up and asked in confusion, "What happened next? Where has she been for the past twenty years?"

Loren glanced at her nightgown and felt his throat tighten a little. "She said the wrong place. She showed up at the home of a handsome and wealthy wizard in Bury St. Edmunds. They fell in love at first sight and lived together ever since. They had seven children and lived happily ever after."

"..."

Hermione's beautiful eyebrows wrinkled slightly, revealing a bit of disgust: "She hasn't appeared in 20 years, she hasn't come back to separate from her ex-husband, and she hasn't told her mother who was worried about her. This..."

“So I didn’t write it down…”

"Dingle bell! Dingle bell!"

Loren's voice was interrupted by the sudden ring of the phone. Hermione glanced at the old-fashioned telephone that was vibrating not far away. The receiver was lifted up by an invisible hand and fell into the hands of the person next to him:

"Hello? This is Loren Morgan..."

Hermione lowered her eyes and continued to read the second half of the paper: "Comparison between the Apparition of human wizards and the teleportation magic of house-elves. As a common method of travel for wizards, teleportation usually requires the use of a wand to cast spells. Only a very small number of more skilled wizards can break free from the restrictions of the wand. In addition, the teleportation process will put a certain amount of pressure on the wizard's body..."

"Harry, what's the matter so late?"

Hermione's eyes paused and her ears slowly perked up.

"Well, you talk, I'm listening..."

"and after……"

"Hmm? Ah!?"

Hermione: ...

This person definitely did it on purpose.

Hermione rolled her eyes silently, put the paper aside, stood up and sat next to him, with her ear close to him.

Loren was lazily listening to Harry's story about his encounter with the Dementors. Just as he heard that Mrs. Figg and Mundungus were arranged by Dumbledore to protect him at Privet Drive, he suddenly felt the scent of shower gel approaching, followed by a warm and soft cheek against the back of his hand holding the microphone, tender and smooth.

Harry's voice entered his right ear and went out the left.

"Fortunately, you cleared my trail in advance, otherwise we would be in trouble now! That Mundungus doesn't look very reliable. He looks like a dark wizard from Knockturn Alley and is even reselling stolen cauldrons. Is he really a criminal? Why would Dumbledore arrange for such a person?"

"Mrs. Figg is unwilling to reveal anything, just like Ron and the others..."

"You would never have thought that Aunt Petunia knew about the Dementors. She even exchanged letters with Dumbledore... They have always known about Voldemort, and now they know that Voldemort is back."

Harry's voice paused in the receiver: "Uncle Vernon wanted to kick me out, but Aunt Petunia received a howler letter and heard the voice in the letter saying something incoherent, so she let me stay..."

(End of this chapter)