Chapter 783 Squib Feige
The moon, stars, and street lights suddenly returned to real life. A warm breeze blew through the alley, the trees in the nearby garden rustled, and the rumble of cars on Crescent Mulan Street in the ordinary world filled the air again. into the air.
Harry stood silently, all his senses shaking as he was suddenly brought back to the real world. After a while, he realized that his shirt was completely stuck to his body - he was soaked with sweat.
He couldn't believe what just happened. The dementors were here, on Xiaoweijin Road!
Although he said he couldn't believe it, even if he didn't believe his eyes, his wand would not lie to him. Oh, and of course, there was this pig...
Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry was bending over to see if he could stand up on his own when suddenly he heard loud, hasty footsteps behind him.
Harry subconsciously raised his wand again and faced the visitor across Dudley's heels.
That was Mrs. Figg, their eccentric elderly neighbor.
Mrs. Figg came into view panting, her gray hair unraveling from her hairnet, her wrists jingling as a shopping bag, her feet only half-full of her tartan carpet slippers. , Harry quickly put his wand away, but...
"Don't put it away, silly boy!" she screamed. "What if they're still around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"
"What did you say?" Harry was confused.
"He left," Mrs. Figg said with both hands. "He left to see a man who fell off a broomstick into a set of cauldrons! I told him I would skin him alive if he left. Now, look what happened! Dementors! Fortunately this time, I dragged Mr. Tibbs into this incident! But we still don't have time to look around! Now, Harry, we have to send you Go home! Oh, this trouble shouldn't have happened! I'm going to kill him!"
"But -" For Harry, discovering that his crazy cat-loving old lady neighbor actually knew what Dementors were was as shocking as meeting two Dementors in an alley. The monster is almost the same size.
"You - you are - you are a witch?" Harry could hardly believe what was coming out of his mouth.
"As Mundungus fully understands, I am a Squib (a term used in the wizarding world for those with traditional wizarding blood but no magic), so how can you imagine that I have the ability to help you fight off the Dementors? ?But even after I warned him, he left you unwisely——"
"Mundungus has been following me?" Harry said in disbelief.
"Ah ha - it's him! He's the one who made such a fuss in front of my house!"
"Yes! Yes! Yes! But luckily, just in case, I had Mr. Tibbs stationed under a car, and Mr. Tibbs did come and warn me, but You had left when I came to your house—and now—oh! What will Dumbledore say?"
"You!" she shouted to Dudley, who was still lying on his back on the alley, "get your fat ass off the ground, quick!"
"Do you know Dumbledore?" Harry stared at Mrs. Figg, this kind of information should not be too shocking.
"Of course I know Dumbledore, and who doesn't know Dumbledore? But come on now - if they come back, there's nothing I can do about it. I've never been able to transform into a teabag-drinking dog. Magic, frankly, I can't even get the wand to admit..."
This is a sad topic. Just like Mr. Filch, as a squib, they have the ability to face those magical creatures like wizards, but they cannot store even half of the magic power in their bodies. The natural magic power is dissolved in Flesh and blood, that subtle feeling cannot even light up even the simplest wand...
"I'm sorry..." Harry realized that some topics were harmful to a wizard, just like Mr. Filch. He was already insane if he didn't see it.
"It's okay, kid. I've long been used to it. Moreover, I can see many different things. Although it's not friendly to me, my knowledge is clearer than the average person. No wizard would be willing to do that. I will stay here with Muggles forever, but I think there is nothing wrong with it. At least, no one will target a squib. Moreover, the continuous accumulation of magic power allows me to experience it in a very short period of time, while they dissipate. Before……"
"But let's get out of here," said Mrs. Figg.
She stopped, grabbed one of Dudley's fat arms with her skinny hands and pulled hard.
"Get up, you useless fool, get up!"
But Dudley was neither able nor willing to stand up. He lay on the ground, trembling, face pale, and lips pursed.
"Oh, I'll do it!" Harry quickly grabbed Dudley's arm and raised it.
Although Harry cannot be considered malnourished because of his schooling, and is at best considered thin, Dudley did not get the title of Fat Pig for nothing. This was something that was determined very early on. Together with Fanlin...
With great effort he tried to get Dudley to lift his feet, but Dudley still seemed unconscious. His little eyes were rolling in their sockets, sweat covering his face; Harry was swaying dangerously as he let himself go.
"Hurry up!" Mrs. Figg shouted hysterically. Harry put one of Dudley's fat arms on his shoulders and dragged him toward the street, Harry's shoulders sagging slightly under Dudley's weight.
Mrs. Figg staggered ahead of them, staring nervously at the corner of the street.
"Take your wand out!" she said to Harry as they entered Wisteria Lane: "Don't worry about the Statute of Secrecy now. (The Statute of Secrecy is a law established by the Ministry of Magic that prohibits the use of magic in Muggle areas. ), we would be severely punished anyway, probably hanged by dragons like bastards. Let’s talk about that minor witchcraft restriction that makes some sense: that’s exactly what Dumbledore was worried about – where is The end of the street? Oh, that's Mr. Prentiss. Don't put your wand down, kid! Don't make me keep telling you that I can't use magic, okay?"
It was not easy to hold the wand stably while dragging Dudley hard. Harry nudged his cousin Dudley impatiently in the ribs, but Dudley seemed to have lost all desire to act independently.
He slumped over Harry's shoulders, his huge feet dragging along the ground.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier that you were a squib, Mrs. Figg?" Harry asked breathlessly as he struggled to walk. "When I was in your house - why didn't you say anything? "
"Dumbledore's orders. I have to keep you but can't tell you anything, you're too young. I'm sorry to have given you such a miserable time, Harry! But if the Dursleys think you like me here, they I'll never let you come again. You know, it's not easy, but, oh! Look what I said." Again her palms became sweaty and she cried sadly: "When Dumbledore heard At this point - hearing how Mundungus could have left, when he was presumed to be on duty until midnight - where is he? How can I tell Dumbledore what happened? I have no way of contacting him."
"I have an owl you can borrow," Harry groaned, extremely surprised that his back could bear Dudley's weight.
"Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore needs to act as soon as possible. The Ministry of Magic has their own channels for detecting minors using magic. They already know it now. You must believe my words."
"But I got rid of the dementors, and I had to use magic - they should be more worried about what the dementors are doing wandering around Wisteria Lane, right? Hermione said that the dementors can't leave. Zikaban..."
"Oh, dear, I wish that was the case, but I'm afraid—Mundungus Fletcher, I'm going to kill you!"
When a man in a tattered coat suddenly appeared in front of them, there was a loud cracking sound, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of wine mixed with the smell of rotting tobacco.
This man has short bow legs, long and messy blond hair, and bloodshot, droopy eyes, all of which make him look like a corgi, giving him a gloomy look. He was also clutching a small silver bag, which Harry immediately recognized as an invisibility cloak.
"Good morning, Figg," he said, looking at Mrs. Figg, Harry and Dudley for the first time. "What happened during my clandestine activities?"
"To hell with your secret activities!" cried Mrs. Figg. "The dementors have appeared, you useless, deserving of death thief!"
"Dementors?" Mundungus repeated in shock, "You mean dementors?"
"Yes, right here, you worthless lame spy, right here!" screamed Mrs. Figg. "The dementors attacked the child while you were watching!"
"Gee," Mundungus replied feebly, looking from Mrs. Figg to Harry and back, "Gee, I—"
"Are you going to sell those stolen crucibles again! Didn't I tell you not to go? Did I-"
"I also know, I-" Mundungus looked sad, "It, it is really a good business opportunity, look-"
Mrs. Figg lifted the bag wrapped around her arm and swung it into Mundungus' face. The string wrapped around Mundungus's neck and, judging by the clinking of the bag, The bag should be filled with cat food.
"Ouch - put it away - put it away, you crazy old bat! Someone will tell Dumbledore about this!"
"Yes - they - have done it!" cried Mrs. Figg, throwing colorful cat food at every part of Mundungus within her reach, "and - best It's you - you can tell Dumbledore - why you weren't there to rescue!"
"Keep your wits about you!" said Mundungus, holding his hands over his head as he kept retreating. "I'm on my way! I'm on my way!" And with another loud crack, he was gone. .
"I hope Dumbledore kills him!" Mrs. Figg said furiously. "Now, come here, Harry, what are you waiting for?"
Harry decided not to waste his remaining strength by pointing out that he could barely move under Dudley's weight. He lifted the half-conscious Dudley up, leaning him further forward.
"I'll show you to the door," said Mrs. Figg as they turned into Privet Drive. "Only if there are more Dementors around, oh! My God, what a scene. A big disaster, and you have to fight them off on your own, and Dumbledore said that we should do whatever it takes to save you from using magic, okay! I guess now is not the time to worry about small things, but those The cat is playing mischief now.”
"So," Harry gasped, "Dumbledore has been following me?"
"Of course... yes," Mrs. Figg said with obvious lack of patience, "did you think he was going to let you roam around after what happened in June? Well, kid, they told me to keep you here. It's wise and right," said Mrs. Figg as they arrived at number four. "I hope someone will be in touch with you soon, and it's only half the time..."
"What are you going to do now?" Harry asked quickly.
"I'll go straight home," replied Mrs. Figg, trembling as she stared at the dark street around her. "I have to wait for more, but until then I just stay at home. Good night!"
"Wait, don't go now! I want to know——" But Mrs. Figg was already trotting away, her slippers clattering and her string bag clinking.
"Wait!" Harry shouted after her. He had a million questions to ask anyone who came into contact with Professor Dumbledore: but within seconds Mrs. Figg's figure was swallowed up by darkness.
Harry, with a frown on his face, readjusted Dudley's position on his shoulder so that they slowly and painfully moved to the garden path of No. 4 Privet Drive. The light in the living room was still on.
Harry put his wand back into the waistband of his jeans, rang the doorbell and watched as the outline of Aunt Petunia grew larger and twisted oddly against the frosted glass of the door.
"Dudley! It's about time, I'm getting very, very - Dudley, what's going on!"
Harry looked at Dudley beside him, and jumped out from under Dudley's arm in time.
Dudley swayed in place, his face black and white, and then he opened his mouth and vomited all over the doorway.
"Dudley! Dudley! What happened? Vernon! Vernon!" Harry's uncle came out of the bedroom in high spirits, and his drooping mustache was blown to the left and right. It always seems to be like this when he gets excited and doesn't press the button.
He hurried forward to help Aunt Petunia get Dudley in, whose legs were weak, while also avoiding stepping on the disgusting pile of vomit on the floor.
"He's sick, Vernon!"
"How do you feel, son? What happened? Did Mrs. Polkes give you some kind of foreign tea?"
"Why are you covered in dirt, honey? Have you ever fallen to the ground?"
"Wait a minute - your face is okay, isn't it, son?" Aunt Petunia screamed.
"Call the police, Vernon! Call the police! Dudley, dear, talk to mother! What have they done to you?"
Throughout all this chaos, no one noticed Harry, which suited him just fine.
He wanted to sneak in quietly before Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut, and when Dudley moved his noise show from the living room to the kitchen, Harry moved carefully and quietly up the stairs.
"Who did it, son? Tell us the name. We'll catch him, don't worry."
"Quiet! What did he want to say, Vernon! What happened, Dudley? Tell mother!"
Harry was at the bottom of the stairs when Dudley found his voice.
"It's him." (To be continued)