HP Magic Biography

Just halfway through the hottest days of summer, a sleepy tranquility enveloped the big square house on Privet Road. The dusty car shining with its lights stopped on the yellow lawn that was once emerald-green but has now become scorched-because rubber hoses are no longer allowed for watering. After being deprived of their usual pursuit of car washing and mowing, the residents of Privet Road returned to their shady houses, with the windows wide open so that a cool breeze could blow through without hope.

Harry Potter's appearance is not liked by his neighbors who like to watch others' legal sanctions, but when he hides behind the hydrangea bush tonight, passers-by will not see him.

In fact, he can only be spotted when his Uncle Fernon or Aunt Petunia sticks his head out of the living room window and looks directly into the flower table below.

In general, Harry was glad that he was hiding here. He may not be very comfortable lying on this hot, hard ground, but on the other hand, no one here will feel that he is dazzling, and the sound of grinding their teeth makes him hardly hear the news. Or ask him some despicable questions, which always happen every time he wants to watch TV with his uncle and aunt in the living room.

It was almost as if this thought flew into the open window, Harry's uncle, Fernundsley spoke suddenly.

"It's nice that kid didn't break in again. But where is he now?"

"I don't know," Aunt Petunia said nonchalantly, "Not in the house anyway."

Uncle Fernon grumbled impatiently, "Look at the news," he said sternly, "I want to know what he wants to do. A normal boy will care about what the news says-nothing like Da Li! He doesn’t know anything; he really wonders if he knows who the current minister is! Anyway, what happened to his group should not be on our news--"

"Shhh, Fernon," said Aunt Petunia, "muttering with the window open!"

Dursley fell silent. Harry heard the clinking of the fruit breakfast basket. He happened to see Old Lady Fogg, an eccentric cat-loving old lady on Wisteria Road, slowly strolling over and Harry was very happy that he was hiding behind the bushes. Yes, because Mrs. Fogg recently asked him to come to her for tea as soon as she saw him on the road.

She turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

Uncle Fernon's voice floated from the window again.

"Did Dali go out for tea?"

"At Perk Cases," said Aunt Petunia dotingly, "he has so many children, he is really likable."

Harry suppressed the laughter from his nostrils.

Desri really had the pitiful trust in their son Dudley's stupidity. They were convinced of the foolish lie that Dudley would go out for tea with different guys every night during the holidays.

Harry knew very well that Dudley didn't go to drink tea. Dudley and his group went to the park every night to wreak havoc, smoke on street corners, and throw stones at passing cars and children. Harry saw them while he was walking on Xiaowei Jinlu. He spends most of his holidays wandering the streets, picking up newspapers from the trash can on the road to read.

The opening music for the news forecast at 7 o'clock reached Harry's ears. His stomach turned.

"In the second week after the strike of the porters at the Spanish airport, the number of helpless holidaymakers filled the entire airport with a record-"

"If it's me, I will let them lose their jobs forever" Uncle Fernon yelled when he heard the last words of the broadcaster. But no matter what, outside of the flower stand, Harry's heart seemed to be pried open.

If something happens, it will make headlines. Death and destruction are of course more important than helpless vacationers.

He breathed out slowly and stared at the dazzling blue sky. Every day this summer is exactly the same: tension, anticipation, short relaxation, tension again...always, never stopped, why nothing happened ? He continued to listen, in case there were some small clues that the Muggles would not really recognize—an unexplainable disappearance, or perhaps, some strange accident.

But after the baggage operator's strike was about the drought in the southeast.

Harry opened his eyes. There was no value left here. He raised his head carefully, crawling forward with his knees and elbows, preparing to crawl out of the window.

Just as he had just moved two inches, suddenly something happened. A loud, crackling roar like a shelling broke the tranquility of sleep. A cat ran out of a parked car restlessly and ran away, a scream, and a cursing roar. The sound accompanied by the breaking of porcelain came from Dursley's living room.

As if this was the signal he had been waiting for for a long time, Harry jumped up and at the same time drew a wooden stick from the belt of his jeans, as if he had drawn a sword-but before he hadn’t When he had time to stand up, the top of his head suddenly collided with the Dursley's suddenly opened window, and the result of the collision made Aunt Petunia's cry louder.

Harry felt as if his head had been split in half. He was shaking, his eyes dizzy, trying his best to pay attention to the road, and to identify the source of the noise, but when he staggered to his feet before he had time, a pair of huge purple hands stretched out from the window and pinched his throat tightly. .

"Throw it away!" Uncle Fernon yelled in his ear, "Don't let anyone see it!"

"Let go of me!" said Harry panting. They scuffled for a few seconds. Harry used his left hand to push his uncle's sausage-like fingers as best as he could, and his right hand grasped his wand tightly, as if Harry gave it to the top of his head. He was particularly uncomfortable, and Uncle Fernon screamed and let go of Harry, as if he was suddenly shocked.

An invisible force was released from his nephew, making it impossible for him to catch it.

Panting, Harry rolled forward over the hydrangea bushes, stood up straight and looked around.

There is no sign that something is causing the noise, but some faces are quietly looking here from a nearby window. Harry hurriedly pushed his wand back into his waistband and made an innocent look.

"What a lovely night!" Uncle Fernon called, and waved to Mrs. 7 who was facing the door. She was looking out from the net curtain of the house. "Did you hear the car backfire just now? It scared me and Petunia. Jump!"

He continued to grin and show a terrible smile until all the curious neighbors disappeared from their windows, and then the smile turned into an extremely angry twist, and he beckoned Harry to come back.

Harry moved a few steps closer to him and stood carefully out of Uncle Fernon's reach, in case Uncle Fernon reached out and strangled him.

"What the **** are you doing? Boy?" Uncle Fernon cried, his voice trembling with anger.

"What am I doing?" Harry said coldly, still looking around, trying to find out who caused the noise.

"A racket from the outside is directed at me like a gun..."

"I didn't make that sound!" Harry said firmly. Aunt Petunia's slender horse face appeared behind Uncle Fernon's broad purple face. She looked very blue.

"Why were you lurking under our window just now?"

"Yes, yes, good question, Petunia, what did you do under our window just now?"

"Listen to the news." Ha said in a resigned tone. His uncle and aunt exchanged angry glances.

"Listen to the news? You say it again?"

"You know, there are new changes every day." Harry said.

"Don't be smart with me! Boy! I want to know what you're trying to do? Stop telling me the nonsense of listening to the news. You know you guys—"

"Be careful, Fernon!" Aunt Petunia whispered, and Uncle Fernon lowered her voice so that Harry could hardly hear what he was saying, "You people will never listen to our news!"

"That's just what you know," Harry said.

Dursley stared at him for a few seconds, and then Aunt Petunia said, "You nasty little liar, those," he also lowered his voice so that Harry could only recognize her mouth. The following words, "What is the owl doing, why didn't you bring you news?"

"Aha!" Uncle Fernon said in a smugly whisper, "I heard it! Boy, do you think we don't know you got news from those blastbirds?" Harry hesitated for a while and he had to admit it. In fact, even though his uncle and aunt didn't know how bad he felt to admit.

"Owl—no news for me." He said dullly.

"I don't believe it!" Aunt Petunia said immediately. "Neither do I!" Uncle Fernon said excitedly. "We know you are planning something weird." Aunt Petunia said. "We are not stupid!" Uncle Fernon said.

"It's news to me." Harry said, his temper was up, and he ran away before Dursley could call him back. Through the front lawn, across the low flower wall, strode down the street.

He knew he was in trouble now. He knew that he would face his uncle and aunt later and pay for his rudeness, but he didn't want to think so much now, he had more urgent things in his mind.

Harry was sure that the voice was made by one person, organized or unorganized. It sounded like Dobby the house-elf disappeared in the air. Is it because Dobby is on Privet Road now? Will Dobby follow him at this time? This shouldn't be it. Dobby was left at Hogwarts by Fanlin. If anything happens, Fanlin will definitely come and look for him, will it be Fanlin? According to Dumbledore, the holiday is now half past...

With this thought, he looked around again, and then down Privet Drive, but there was nothing there. Harry was sure that Dobby didn't know how to be invisible, and that Fanlin was not lurking aside. This was natural. Things, he and Hermione are in Egypt.

He continued to walk aimlessly, let him take all these roads well. Every few steps he looked back through his shoulder, he was sure that there was something magical near him while he was lying among the dead begonias of Aunt Petunia. Why did they not speak to him? Why didn't you contact him? Why are they still hiding now. Then, his almost frustrated feeling discouraged him. Maybe there is no magic at all. Maybe he wants to find even the tiny things about his world so much that he is too sensitive to small sounds now.

Can he be sure that is not the sound of something breaking in the neighbor's house? Harry felt a boring and heavy feeling in his stomach, and he knew that this hopeless feeling had tortured him many times this summer.

Tomorrow morning he will wake up with the 5 o'clock alarm to pay for the owl who brought him the Daily Prophet-but will there be any new news? Harry just glanced at the front page these days and tossed the newspaper aside. Harry was interested only when the fool who ran the newspaper realized that Voldemort was back and made it a front page headline.

If he is lucky, he can receive an owl from his friend Ron. Egypt is too far away, and he can't count on Van Lin and Hermione.

Although he hoped Ron or Sirius could tell him something, he couldn't.

We can’t tell you about the mysterious person. Obviously, we can’t do this to prevent our owl from falling into the hands of other people. We are very busy but we can’t tell you the details here, things will be clear, we will tell when we meet Everything about you-but when will they see him?

No one told an exact date.

Ron scribbled on his birthday card that I hope to see you soon, but when is it?

Or did Dumbledore think Ron and the others could understand the situation better than him?

Harry told himself not to think that way for the Nth time this summer. It was bad enough for him to revisit in his dream, and to wander aimlessly, and it was bad enough not to have a place to stay.

He turned a corner around the corner and reached Xinyue Mulan Street. He saw his godfather for the first time beside the garage halfway in that narrow alley.

At least Sirius seemed to understand Harry's feelings.

Undeniably, his letter did not say anything like Ron's, but at least there were some comforting warnings, which felt much better than those worrying clues.

I know this disappoints you. Take care of yourself, don’t be nosy, things will get better, be careful and don’t make any rash actions...

Well, Harry thought, at this moment he was crossing the Crescent Mulan Street, walking up Mulan Road, and then walking towards Anhei Sports Park. He had (or even surpassed) what Sirius suggested to him.

He had tried his best to suppress the idea of ​​tying his luggage to his broom, and then set off to the Burrow by himself.

In fact, he feels that his behavior has made him feel very frustrated and angry: he has been trapped in Privet Road for so long ~www.readwn.com~ hiding under the flower garden hoping to hear a little bit about what Voldemort is doing Hope it will decrease little by little.

Harry bent down through the locked door and walked across the hot lawn. The park is as empty as the surrounding streets.

When he walked over the swing, he sat down on the only swing that hadn't been destroyed by Dudley and his gang, with one arm wrapped around the chain, looking at the ground angrily. He could no longer hide under the Dursley’s flower garden.

Tomorrow he has to think of something new to listen to the news. At the same time, he will have a restless and disturbed night that is not worth looking forward to at all.

Walking through the long, dark corridor, and finally all locked doors, it made him feel trapped when he was awake. His scars often felt tingling, but he thought it would not interest Ron, Hermione or Sirius anymore. Maybe Fanlin would be interested, but this didn't seem surprising.

In the past, his scars were a warning that Voldemort had become stronger again. Now that Voldemort has been resurrected, they might only tell him that it was just a matter of constant anger—not worrying—again.