A Certain Hogwarts Magician Professor

Remember for a second【】

"Look at his name!" said Uncle Fenon, snorting. "Tom? His parents didn't care. I bet there are a million people in England with that name. Tom is everywhere, colleague in your meeting. , those who do promotions, those who play football, and those who are homeless..."

He murmured as if to hide the increasingly bland food.

It helped Harry, because he had just shaken his fork off, leaving a stain on the clean tablecloth, and Aunt Petunia was distracted before she could throw the disgusting look. Harry picked up his fork quickly, making up his mind to leave immediately after dinner.

The newscaster dutifully reports—

"...The original hotline will be closed..." Uncle Fenon began to express his opinions fiercely again. "Where's the photo? What does he look like? And the bounty!" .

"He's been caught," Harry pointed out dryly.

I thought that if he knew what the name represented, it probably wouldn't be this attitude, no, he didn't even need to tell him that the name once belonged to Voldemort, just let him know: this is a dark wizard with no moral values, a The leader of the criminal gang is enough to frighten the stern Uncle Fenon.

"You don't need to remind me!" Uncle Fernon yelled at Harry. . .

"There's no hotline," Aunt Petunia said suddenly, as sharp as ever for secrecy and gossip.

"What?" asked Uncle Fenon, stunned.

"No hotline, I haven't seen it...not mentioned on TV, and," Aunt Petunia frowned, "I haven't heard the name."

Harry fully understood what she meant. She would not let go of any conversation easily, and murder was a very exciting topic. If he could take the opportunity to comment on the existing law and order, he would immediately let her in the neighborhood. In the afternoon tea in the limelight.

Harry looked at the announcer, he had a different understanding of it, maybe it was a code from the wizards, telling fellow wizards hiding in the Muggle community: the war is over... He praised the person who came up with the idea, because Muggle TV The name 'Voldemort' shouldn't appear on the show, it would be much safer to replace it with 'Tom Riddle', and with Rita Skeeter's continuous reporting, the name Voldemort used when he was young is no longer a secret .

He was thinking, and at some point the table fell silent, and Uncle Fenon and Aunt Petunia both stared at him.

Harry was confused and didn't know how he had messed with them, but the TV news gave him the answer—

"...Some ornithologists speculate that the abnormal behavior of owls may be related to changes in the earth's magnetic field. It is reported that this kind of situation is not the first time, as early as fifteen years ago..."

Aunt Petunia gasped, and Uncle Finon's little eyes bulged, and the fork in his hand was bent.

"I'm done," said Harry quickly, putting down the cutlery and sitting up in his chair.

"Don't go, we need an explanation, boy!" cried Uncle Fenon.

"there is nothing-"

"Yes!" Dudley interjected suddenly, staring into a pair of small eyes he inherited from his father. "I heard it all," he pointed at Harry with a fat finger, who had to look carefully to see the fork in that hand. . …

"—his room, there was always the flapping of wings and the chirping of birds at night."

"That's an owl!"

"Sure enough, you're the one who did it—"

Harry was secretly angry. "Okay," he tried to calm himself down, "something really happened in the wizarding world, Voldemort's down," he pointed to the TV, "that's him the guy just said, Tom Riddle, this is His school name."

Before they could react, Harry ran upstairs in three and two steps.

Maybe he should tell them, Harry thought as he pushed open the door, but he's been too busy to think about it, and what if he said it? Will they really be happy?

The bedroom was messy, with a lot of things scattered around, and there was even a pitiful place to go.

Aunt Petunia would definitely scream if the sight fell in her eyes, but she hadn't been here for a long time, and she tried not to call Harry by his first name unless necessary. So Harry cluttered the room with peace of mind, and he glanced out the window, Sirius had been back late these days.

Of course, his godfather is happily catching the dark wizard who slipped through the net with his old partner, how can he take care of him? Harry thought sullenly, wondering when Sirius would realize the fact that he was stuck between Remus and Tonks...

Hedwig was pecking at the cage, Harry bent over and opened the cage door, and when Hedwig came out, she spread her wings and flew down the window like a ghost into the dark night. He moved the cage and picked up the small box on the ground.

Inside are some unfolded letters, pressed together and arranged in chronological order. The top one was sent by Hermione yesterday.

Harry sat in his chair and read from the middle, which he was already familiar with.

"…Our family went to Norway, where the weather is hot most of the time, the salmon here is so delicious, I dare not go into the water, the waves are a bit big, and I'm worried that I can't help using magic. If you travel here, you must Bring your toiletries and a thick coat, if it rains, the weather will be a little cold..."

"A letter from your friend to you?"

Harry raised his head sharply and saw Dudley's fat body blocking the door, as if he was about to use his chin.

The gesture of pointing at the letter in Harry's hand, but in addition to making his three-layered fat chin more obvious, it also blocked his eyes that were not big.

"It's none of your business."

Harry said angrily, striding over the owl cage, stacks of books, Hogwarts robes, old clothes, and stepped forward to close the door. A flash of strangeness flashed in his heart. Dudley, like his parents, could not avoid it.

But Dudley blocked the door with one hand, and Harry's hand remained motionless on the doorknob, and he realized that his cousin had practiced boxing, and that his large frame wasn't all fat—but he wanted the muscles wrapped in it. It was revealed that Dudley could take a lifetime.

Harry stared, refraining from threatening him with magic. But if Dudley suddenly lost his mind and wanted to get back to his elementary school hobbies, Harry wouldn't have the advantage in size at all. …

At this point, Dudley bent down—his left hand was still firmly on the door, but the stooping motion was more exhausting—he picked up a stack of parchment from the ground, "The Patronus Mystery—Harry Potter Now, are you going to write a book? Like Gilderoy Lockhart?"

"Give it back to me!" said Harry angrily. "I'm not like that liar! Wait—how do you know—"

He stared at Dudley, shocked.

He didn't know when Dudley intervened in his life in the other world. It felt like someone he had been with for more than ten years, like the Dursleys, like Mrs. Figg, suddenly confessed to him that he was a wizard …

This is ridiculous. There must be a reason, and it's likely to be in itself. A flash of light flashed, and Harry suddenly remembered something. He strode to the cabinet and knocked over a few quills and ink bottles in the middle, but Harry didn't pay attention at all. He pulled open the wardrobe and threw the dirty clothes aside. Son, his hand reached into a slightly deep drawer without a baffle—it was empty.

"You took my book?" Harry turned back through gritted teeth, a long-suppressed outburst of anger that his privacy had been snooped on. He thought unpleasantly about his childhood: he didn't have a decent toy in his hands, it was Dudley's leftovers. And he had to hide from Dudley a little bit, and if he was shown, there were only two outcomes, either he would cry to Aunt Petunia to take the toy back, and would rather throw it away, or he would simply snat it out of Harry's hand, Feet slumped.

The only consolation was that Dudley never got into the cupboard he used to live in, because he couldn't get in when he was six, making Harry a house-elf-like hoard of tattered toys.

When Harry came to his senses, the wand was already in his hand like lightning, resting on Dudley's neck. The tip of the staff glowed menacingly red, and Dudley was terrified, his neck thrown back, his fat toes on tiptoe, like a crappy ballerina.

"Don't—you can't—outside school—use magic—"

"I don't care!" Harry squeezed a few words between his teeth. "I don't care, do you understand?" To a spell that would make his toes grow, but Harry immediately thought of Snape, and his mood was even worse.

"Normally you wouldn't dare to come here, I should have thought...you've been wrong this summer." Harry took a breath, "Yeah, you stole my book, Lockhart...and that set of comics...you Think you know magic, don't you? Tell me, what do you want to do this time?"

Dudley seemed to be out of breath, his face flushed, and his hand tried to push the wand away, but a few sparks popped out of the wand, and he was too frightened to move.

Harry calmed down a little.

He took two steps back and pulled his wand out of Dudley's second chin, the tip of the wand pointed at the ground. His first reaction was bad, Dudley would sue, but on second thought it seemed fine, Harry stared at the messy room, just in time for him to pack up and move into the house Sirius rented overnight. …

Now that Voldemort has been caught, Harry doesn't think he's still in danger, so it doesn't seem like there's anything to lose if the protective magic fails? As soon as this idea appeared, it took root in Harry's head and quickly grew into a towering tree.

Dudley finally responded.

He slowly slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and pulled a few bills out of them. Harry stared, and for a moment he thought he had discovered Dudley's true purpose - to come and show off how much pocket money he had. But Harry quickly thought of something. He looked at Dudley trying to speak, and a strange feeling came to him.

"I—buy—money—"

"You want to pay for something? From me? For what?"

Dudley opened his mouth, flushed, and seemed to have lost his ability to speak.

"Zi-Zi-"

"Zizi Bee Candy?"

"Also, there's Hu-"

"Pepper urchin?"

"Dali - Dada - the TV show starts - is your favorite -"

Aunt Petunia's shouts in the living room broke the silence between the two, and Dudley backed off as quickly as Harry was chasing a curse. Got it—I'll be down right now."

Then he turned his head, as if drawing enough courage from his mother again, and stared at Harry's forehead for a while.

"Is it true in the comic books? That you are mentioned in it, the famous Potter?"

"Yeah, the famous Potter," Harry repeated dryly.

Dudley disappeared from sight. There was an overwhelmed moan from the stairs, and Harry froze for a few seconds before stepping forward and slamming the door. He locked the door uneasy, sat back in the chair, and stared at the messy room in a daze.

He remembered that Dudley hadn't returned the book, and certainly didn't leave the money, so he was just pretending? Harry thought slightly bitterly, but he was doing a good business and was expected to succeed his father.

He imagined what a middle-aged Dudley would look like, a complete copy of Uncle Fenon, at best bigger and thicker fingers, heard Dudley was playing baseball, but Harry wasn't sure about what he could achieve. Totally hopeless. This goes against Aunt Petunia's point of view, and some of them must be wrong.

Harry stood up and picked up the parchment from the ground, the first few pages of the parchment were filthy with the overturned inkwell, but Harry wasn't too worried, he was about to memorize the contents. It was his own book, which might be published in the future, and Harry seemed patient enough to be careful with every word.

Speaking of which, Harry didn't think about publishing at all.

Maybe it's time to ask Professor Haipu? But he rejected the idea. He didn't want to contact Professor Hepp or Headmaster Dumbledore very much now. He had heard the full prophecy from Sirius and knew his own destiny: one must die at the hands of the other, because the two Individuals cannot live together, only one survives...

For a moment, Harry had a strong hope that if one would survive, it should be him, right? Because Voldemort has been caught. Apparently that's what Sirius thought, so when Harry asked, he bluntly told Harry. …

But Harry knew better, he was a Horcrux, part of Voldemort's life.

Sirius did not know the Horcrux, he was excluded from the truth, which Harry had repeatedly confirmed, he found in Sirius a feeling of sympathy, and at the same time had a faint shake of his own destiny, or Dumbledore The principal is also trying to find a way to keep himself alive?

Harry didn't dare ask the question, he was ready to die, and he didn't want to be hit a second time. He could only wait, and if they - Professor Hepp or Headmaster Dumbledore - worked out something, they would tell him.

Flutter.

The owl flew in from the window, Harry thought it was Hedwig, but it was another tawny owl. It turned around the room in disgust, barely found a place to rest, stood on the windowsill, and raised its right leg.

Harry walked over and took down the large square envelope.

He was stunned when he saw the Ministry of Magic logo and the mark of the Wizarding Examinations Authority.

He completely forgot about the o.w.ls test scores.

At the same time, several things happened almost simultaneously—

Felix left the house of a friend at the orphanage; Dumbledore received news in a foreign country after a busy day: Gellert Grindelwald mysteriously disappeared, suspected of escaping from prison; and an uninvited guest broke into Privet Drive. Rented a house nearby.

"Sir, do you plan to stay longer?"

"Unfortunately, I have other itineraries, and I will live here for about a month. I will meet a few people later, including old friends and pen pals who have never been able to meet... Speaking of which, this pen pal of mine is full of wit and ingenious. Most of the purpose of my trip was to talk to him in person..."

In the face of the high rent, the landlord did not make any comments.

"By the way... the Dursleys live near here?"

"That's right, UU Reading www.uukanshu.com Are you and them relatives?" the landlord asked curiously, "I haven't heard them mention it at all."

"No," said Grindelwald softly. He's in much better shape now, his cheeks are still thin, but he's not skinny anymore, he looks like an old-fashioned gentleman in exquisite clothes.

With a decent smile, he said: "I just often hear the name of the family's children mentioned by the pen pal - he's a school teacher, and honestly, my ears are getting calluses."

"You mean Dudley Dursley?"

"The other," said Grindelwald lightly, "seems to be Harry Potter."

Dear, this chapter is over