Chapter 1,218

"Oh, yes," Skeeter said, nodding enthusiastically, "I devoted a whole chapter to the relationship between Dumbledore and Potter. That was called unhealthy, even a little evil. Relationship. I think if I say one more thing, your readers will have to buy my book if they want to know the whole story. But what I just said undoubtedly refers to Dumbledore having an abnormality with Potter. interest. Whether that was his greatest interest in the boy... Yes, you will find out in my book that Harry had a troubled adolescence."

(It is known that Dumbledore may have had some illicit relations with his good friend Grindelwald, and now Harry...)

Of course, I asked her if she was still in touch with Harry Potter, with whom she made a name for herself last year with her groundbreaking interview about Potter's belief that the mysterious man was back.

"Oh, yes. We have a closer bond," said Skeeter. "Poor Potter had few real friends, and we met on a day when he was facing the most crucial challenge of his life...the Triwizard Tournament. I'm probably the only person who really understands Harry Potter."

I steered the conversation neatly into the many rumors surrounding Dumbledore's final moments. Does Skeeter believe Potter was there when Dumbledore died?

"Oh, I don't want to say too much, it's all in my book. But many witnesses in Hogwarts Castle saw Potter falling... or jumping or being pushed down by Dumbledore. After running away from the scene, Potter later testified against Severus Snape, a man who was notoriously jealous of him. Is this really what it seems? It’s up to everyone to decide…once they read my book.”

After finishing all the seductive records, I left. No one can doubt that Skeeter is an excellent salesman. In time, Dumbledore's many admirers will tremble at the revelations about their hero.

Harry endured his anger and read the entire article, but still stared at the newspaper blankly. As if he was about to vomit, strong disgust and anger ignited in his body. He crumpled the newspaper into a ball and threw it out, smashing it on the corner, and went to keep company with the garbage that was already full of trash cans.

Harry began to stride blindly back and forth in the room, opening empty drawers, picking up books and putting them back into the stacks... almost without knowing what he was doing, all the nonsense in Rita's article 's words echoed in his mind: An entire chapter is devoted to the relationship between Dumbledore and Potter...an unhealthy, even slightly evil relationship...his dabbling in the dark arts in his youth...I got a Sources that most reporters would trade with their magic wands for…

"Lies!" shouted Harry, and through the window he saw his neighbor pause briefly, then restart the lawn mower, looking up nervously.

Harry sat down heavily on the bed. The broken mirror was shaking not far away from him. He picked it up and played with it over and over in his hands, thinking about Dumbledore and the lies that Rita had slandered him... There was a bright blue light flashing. Then, Harry was stunned as his fingers slipped over the jagged edges again.

He saw...he had to do something.

He looked behind him. The walls were the sickly pink color Aunt Petunia had chosen: there was nothing blue here to reflect in the mirror. He stared into the shard of mirror again, but this time he saw nothing but his own glowing green eyes looking back at him.

It was just a hallucination, there was no other explanation; he saw it because he had been thinking about his late principal. If there was anything that was certain, it was that Albus Dumbledore's wise blue eyes would never look deeply at him again.

Harry knew this very well.

Dumbledore was forever integrated into Hogwarts. He lay peacefully on the island in the Black Lake, surrounded by mermaids as he slept.

Every time he thought about this, Harry couldn't help but miss the days when Dumbledore was still around.

The banging on the front door carried upstairs, and a voice growled, "Hey! Boy!"

However, Harry, who had been being called around for sixteen years, of course did not respond immediately. His Uncle Dursley always did this. After it became clear that he could not perform magic outside of school, his behavior started again. Gradually, he became more and more outrageous.

However, he didn't dare to push Harry too hard.

If you force a wizard, something might happen.

Harry was still looking at the narrow broken lenses. For a moment, he thought he saw Dumbledore's eyes, but in a daze, Harry felt that they looked different, like Dumbledore, and like...

It wasn't until Uncle Vernon yelled "Boy!" again that Harry slowly got up and got out of bed and walked towards the bedroom door. On the way, he put the broken lenses into the travel bag he was about to take away.

"Stop dawdling!" Vernon Dursley shouted to Harry on the stairs, "Come down, I have something to say."

Harry put his hands in his pockets nonchalantly and walked slowly down the stairs. He looked around the living room and saw that all three of the Dursleys were there. They were dressed as if they were going out: Uncle Vernon in an old, shabby jacket, and Dudley... Harry's big, blond, muscular cousin, in a leather jacket.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Sit down!" said Uncle Vernon.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Please!" Uncle Vernon added, wincing slightly, as if the word was difficult to say.

Harry sat down, feeling like he already knew what was going to happen. His uncle began to pace back and forth, Aunt Petunia and Dudley looking at him expectantly.

Finally, Uncle Vernon frowned, stopped in front of Harry, and said, "I changed my mind."

"What a surprise," Harry said sarcastically.

"You have that tone..." Aunt Petunia said in her sharp voice, but Uncle Vernon stopped her with a wave of his hand.

"That's all nonsense," Uncle Vernon said, staring at Harry with his little pig-like eyes. "I'm not going to believe a word of it. We're just going to stay here and not go anywhere."

Harry looked at his uncle feeling angry and amused. For the past four weeks, Uncle Vernon had changed his mind every four hours, putting his luggage in the car, taking it out, putting it back in again, repeating it every time he changed his mind.

Harry's favorite time was when Uncle Vernon didn't know that Dudley had put the dumbbells in the box when he was packing last time, so he picked up the box and was about to put it in the trunk of the car, and the result - he screamed and cursed in pain. He fell down.

"It's all because of you," said Uncle Vernon, as he resumed pacing the living room, "that we... Petunia, Dudley and I... were in danger because of... those... …”

"'Our kind,' eh?" said Harry.

"Anyway, I don't believe it," Uncle Vernon repeated, stopping in front of Harry again, "I thought about it most of the night last night. I am convinced that this is a conspiracy to get the house."

"A house?" Harry repeated, as if he had heard some funny joke. "What house?"

"This is the house!" Uncle Vernon screamed, the veins on his forehead pulsing, and his face turned red. "Our house! Now the house prices here have soared! You want to get rid of us all, and then use some tricks to The trick, the house became yours while we were still in the dark, and then..."

"Then what?" Harry held back his anger.

"Then you can drive us out, and then you can inherit our..."

"Are you crazy?" Harry asked, "To get this house? Have you grown a head? Are you really as stupid as you look? Like a fat pig with a head full of sweets lock up?"

"How dare you...!" screamed Aunt Petunia, but Vernon stopped her again, his expression looking fearless.

"I think you've forgotten," Harry said, "my parents left me a whole vault, and my godfather has left me a house. Why would I want yours? Could it be For the good memories here?”

There was a moment of silence in the room. Harry felt that he had overpowered his uncle in this debate.

"You claim," Uncle Vernon said, starting to pace again, "that some devil is coming here?"

"Voldemort," Harry said impatiently, "we've discussed this a hundred times. That's not a claim, it's a fact. Dumbledore told you last year, and so did Mr. Kingsley and Weasley. , when he comes here, in his eyes, you are like stains on shoes, which can be wiped off easily, but I think he may just rub them here, on the floor. "

Uncle Vernon shrugged his shoulders angrily. Harry guessed that his uncle must be trying to get rid of the memory of those uninvited guests. During the first few days of Harry's summer vacation, two adult wizards Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Arthur Weasley's visit was a very unpleasant surprise for the Dursley family.

Harry had to admit that after all, Mr. Weasley had once destroyed half the Dursleys' living room, and his next visit would never make Uncle Vernon happy.

"Kingsley and Mr. Weasley have already explained it very clearly," Harry pointed out coldly, "Once I turn seventeen, the magic that protects me will no longer work, which means you will be exposed just like me. Come out. The Order of the Phoenix is ​​sure that Voldemort will use you as a target, and he will torture you to try to find me, or he thinks that as long as he takes you as a hostage, I will save you."

Uncle Vernon and Harry's eyes met, and Harry was sure they were thinking the same thing at that moment.

Uncle Vernon continued to pace, and Harry then said patiently: "You have to hide, the Phoenix Society will help you and give you the most complete protection."

Uncle Vernon said nothing, just walked up and down. The sun had set beneath the fence of Privet Drive, and the neighbor's lawn mower had stopped again.

"Don't you have a Ministry of Magic?" Uncle Vernon said suddenly.

"That's right." Harry was a little surprised at Uncle Vernon's knowledge of the wizarding world.

"So, why don't they come to protect us? In my opinion, as innocent victims, we have no crime except harboring a guy of concern, and we have the right to be protected by the government!"

Harry couldn't help it and laughed loudly. That's really typical of Uncle Vernon. Even though he despises and is suspicious of the world, he actually still places his hope in an organization, just like Uncle Vernon believes that some disputes can be resolved by the police.

"Mr. Weasley and Kingsley have told you," Harry repeated, "that we believe the Ministry of Magic has been corrupted by their people."

Uncle Vernon strode back to the hearth, drawing in a breath so hard that his great black beard rippled, and his purple face was still wrinkled.

"Okay," he said, stopping in front of Harry again, "Okay, just for the sake of this argument, we accept their protection, but I still don't see why we can't let that Kingsley boy protect us. "

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes, but that was difficult, as the issue had been discussed several times.

"I told you," he said through gritted teeth, "Kingsley wants to protect Ma... I mean, your Prime Minister."

"Obviously, he's the best!" Uncle Vernon said, pointing to the blank TV screen. The Dursleys had seen on the news that Kingsley accompanied the Muggle Prime Minister on a visit to the hospital.

Kingsley's complete mastery of dressing up like a Muggle, coupled with his reassuringly low voice, made Kingsley look upon Kingsley in a new light by the Dursleys, even though they had never met him. Lai wears earrings.

"He already has a mission," Harry said, "but Hestia Jones and Dedalo Digg are more suitable for this job."

"If we look at their resumes..." Uncle Vernon just started, but Harry lost his patience. He walked in front of his uncle, stared at the TV alone and said, "Those accidents that look like accidents are not accidents... Not all the crashes, explosions, train derailments, and everything that's happened since the last time we watched the news. He's behind it... Voldemort, I've told you time and time again. Kill without batting an eye. Even those fogs... are caused by dementors. If you don't remember what they are, ask your son!"

Dally suddenly covered his mouth with both hands. Under the gaze of his parents and Harry, he slowly lowered his hands and asked, "Do they have... more?"

"More?" Harry smiled. "More than the two who attacked us, you want to ask? Of course! There are hundreds, maybe thousands, living on fear and despair..."

"Okay, okay stop being scary," murmured Uncle Vernon, "you made that clear."

"I hope so," said Harry, "because once I turn seventeen, all those things... Death Eaters, Dementors, and maybe the Inferi, the dead bodies controlled by dark wizards, those things They may find you and attack you. If you remember the last time you tried to escape the wizard, I think you will agree to accept help." (To be continued)