Chapter 1216

Harry was bleeding and clutching his right hand tightly with his left hand.

He gasped and cursed under his breath, shouldering open his bedroom door.

At this moment there was the sound of breaking porcelain... He kicked down a cup of herbal tea placed at the door of the bedroom.

"Too bad!"

Harry looked around and saw that the platform outside No. 4 Privet Drive had long been abandoned. This trap may be regarded as an unsuccessful prank on Dudley's part. Harry raised his bleeding hand, scraped the pieces of the teacup together, and threw them into the filled trash can by the bedroom door.

Harry still had four days before he would be able to use magic without restrictions, which was incredibly frustrating and infuriating - but he had to admit that the cut on his finger would shake him.

Now he doesn't even know how to deal with the wound, but now he must think about it carefully...especially for the plans he is about to implement...

This seemed to be a big loophole in the magic he had learned. Harry reminded himself that he must ask Fanlin and Hermione what to do in the future.

As he thought, he wiped the tea on the floor with a roll of paper towels, then slammed the door behind him and returned to the bedroom.

Harry spent a whole morning emptying the box he used at school completely for the first time... which took just as much trouble as he had filling it six years ago. In the past few semesters, he only needed to take out the most important parts and then organize or update them, while some scattered objects were left at the bottom of the box - old quills, dried beetle eyes, single The socks have long outgrown them.

A few minutes ago, when Harry put his hand into these things, he felt a stinging pain in the ring finger of his right hand. When he took it out, he saw a lot of blood flowing from his fingertip. He was proceeding more carefully now. When Harry knelt next to the box again and groped at the bottom of the box, he found a glowing badge with "Cedric Gorey" and "Potter Stinky" flashing on both sides, and a cracked looking glass.

At last he found the object that had stabbed him, and he recognized it at once as a fragment of a two-inch long magic mirror...

It was given to him by his godfather, Sirius, but bad, now he's shattered.

Harry put it aside and carefully touched the rest of the contents of the box. Except for the powdered glass like glowing gravel stuck to the bottom of the box, there was nothing else.

Harry sat up and examined the irregular shard of mirror that had injured him, but saw only his own bright green eyes looking back at him. He placed the fragment on his bed next to his unread copy of the Daily Prophet.

Harry spent another hour completely emptying the box, throwing away useless things, and arranging the remaining items into categories... he might need them again in the future.

Harry finally piled his school and Quidditch uniforms, cauldrons, parchment, quills, and most of his textbooks into a corner. He didn't know what his uncle and aunt would do with them.

Maybe burn them late one night as evidence of some terrible crime. His Muggle clothes, invisibility cloak, potion kit, some necessary books, the photo album Hagrid had given him, and his wand were all repacked into an old canvas bag. In the front pocket was the Marauder's Map and the defensive ring given to him by Fanlin, which he now used.

There was also a sizable pile of newspapers on his desk, next to his owl, Hedwig, the only creature who accompanied Harry every day during the summer at Privet Drive.

Harry stood up from the floor, stretched, and came to the desk.

Hedwig didn't move. He began to browse through the newspapers, then threw them one by one into the trash.

Hedwig was fast asleep... or pretending to be fast asleep, and she was still angry at Harry for limiting the amount of time she could fly out of her cage.

However, when Harry turned to the bottom of the pile of newspapers, his speed gradually slowed down. He began to look for a special issue that had been sent to him when he first returned to Privet Drive. He remembered that the front page of that issue had a small article about Huo Huo. News about Gwartz's Muggle Studies professor, Charrielle Burbage.

Finally he found it. After opening the tenth page, he sat on a chair and read the article he had already read again. In memory of Albus Dumbledore!

I first met Dumbledore when I was eleven years old, on the day we arrived at Hogwarts for the first time. What we both have in common, no doubt, is that we both feel like outsiders.

I contracted dragon's rash before coming to school, and although I'm not contagious anymore, the markings on my face and green skin make many people avoid coming near me.

Albus, on the other hand, came to Hogwarts with a reputation of being disliked by everyone. Nearly a year ago, his father, Percival, was convicted of openly violently attacking three young Muggles.

Albus never denied the crimes committed by his father (who died in Azkaban). On the contrary, when I summoned the courage to ask him, he flatly told me that he understood that his father was guilty.

After that, Dumbledore refused to talk about the sad incident, despite many attempts to force him to do so. There were even some who praised his father's actions and assumed that Albus was also a Muggle hater. They couldn't be more wrong...

Anyone who knew Albus could attest that he never showed any anti-Muggle tendencies. In fact, his steadfastness against Muggles made him many enemies in the following years.

This incident, which lasted for several months, led to Albus's reputation being tarnished by his father.

But by the end of his first year, he was known not as the son of a Muggle-hating man, but as the smartest student the school had ever seen.

Those of us who were lucky enough to be his friends also benefited greatly from his help and encouragement as well as his generosity. He later admitted to me that at that time, he knew that his greatest ambition in life was to teach.

Not only did he win every award in the school, but he was soon exchanging letters with many of the most famous wizarding figures of the time, including the famous alchemist Nicolas Flamel, the famous historian Bathilda Bagshot, and the magical theorist Adelbert Waffling.

Several of his letters contain traces of his later published works, such as Transfiguration for Today, A Fun Challenge, and Practical Potions. Dumbledore's future seemed destined to be brilliant at that time, but there has long been a question, that is, why he did not become Minister of Magic.

Although there have been rumors in the following years, he never had ambitions to work in the Ministry. In our fourth year at Hogwarts, Albus's younger brother, Aberforth, also entered the school. The two had nothing in common. Aberforth did not like reading at all and preferred to resolve disputes by dueling rather than through rational debate like Albus.

However, unlike some people imagined, the two brothers would turn against each other. These two completely different boys got along quite well. To be fair, for Aberforth, living in the light of Albus was by no means a very comfortable experience. As a friend of Albus, the constant brilliance of him was not a very comfortable thing; then as his brother, it was even more unpleasant. (To be continued)