Chapter 784 Numerous Owl Letters

Harry froze, his feet on the stairs, his face tense.

"Boy! Come here!" With a mixture of fear and anger, Harry slowly moved his feet from the stairs and turned to follow the Dursleys. Behind the darkness outside, the carefully cleaned kitchen gave off an odd, unreal glow.

Aunt Petunia settled Dudley on a chair. Dudley was still blue and looked wet and cold.

Uncle Vernon stood in front of the drain cover and stared at Harry through his small, slit eyes.

"What have you done to my son?" he growled in a threatening tone.

"Nothing," Harry replied, knowing full well that Uncle Vernon wouldn't believe him.

"What did he do to you, Dudley?" asked Aunt Petunia in a trembling voice, now sponge-cleaning the vomit from the front of Dudley's leather jacket. "Did—did—you know what I mean, dear? Did he—did he use that thing?"

Dudley nodded slowly and tremblingly. "I didn't!" Harry shouted as Aunt Petunia let out a wail and Uncle Vernon raised his fist. "I didn't do anything to him! That wasn't me! That was -"

But just then, a long-eared owl suddenly swooped in through the kitchen window. Nearly hitting Uncle Vernon's head, it glided through the kitchen, dropping the large piece of parchment letter it was holding in its mouth at Harry's feet, then turned around gracefully, and the tips of its wings passed over the refrigerator. to the top, then flew outside again, rose rapidly, and disappeared across the garden.

"Owl!" Uncle Vernon roared, the bulging veins beating angrily in his face, and he slammed the kitchen window shut. "Another owl! I will never let another owl into my house again!"

But Harry had torn the envelope open and pulled the letter out, feeling a thump somewhere in his heart.

Dear Mr. Porter:

We have received information that you performed a Patronus Charm in a Muggle neighborhood at 9:23 tonight, in front of a Muggle. This behavior violates Article 70 of the Regulations Restricting the Use of Witchcraft by Minors and will result in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Representatives from the Ministry of Magic will arrive at your residence shortly and destroy your wand. Since you last violated Article 1 of the "International Union of Magician's Relevant Articles of Confidentiality", you have received a formal warning. We regret to inform you that you must attend a reprimand at the Ministry of Magic at nine o'clock in the morning on August. Hearings.

Hope you are well, sincerely, Mafalda Hopkaik, Office of Inappropriate Use of Magic, Ministry of Magic.

Harry read the letter twice. He was only vaguely aware of the conversation between Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Everything was cold and numb in his mind. The fact penetrated his consciousness like a paralyzing dart.

He was kicked out of Hogwarts.

All is lost. He can never go back.

He looked up at the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon was turning purple and roaring loudly, his fists still raised.

Aunt Petunia put her arms around Dudley, who was vomiting again. Harry's briefly numb brain seemed to wake up again.

Representatives from the Ministry of Magic will arrive at your residence shortly and destroy your wand. This can only mean one thing. That means he must run now.

Where he was going Harry didn't know, but he was sure of one thing, he would need his wand whether at Hogwarts or outside.

In a dreamlike state, he drew his wand and left the kitchen.

"Where do you think you are going?" cried Uncle Vernon. When Harry refused to answer, he walked through the kitchen and locked the door to the living room hard.

"We're not done yet, boy!"

"Get out of the way," Harry said quietly.

"You will stay here and explain what happened to my son."

"I'll curse you if you don't get out of the way," Harry said, raising his wand.

"You can't pull that thing out in front of me!" shouted Uncle Vernon. "I know you're not allowed to use magic outside of that crazy building you call school!"

"This crazy building has kicked me out," Harry said. "So I can do whatever I like. You have three seconds. One...two..."

A loud sound of shattering glass filled the bedroom. Aunt Petunia screamed again. Deliberately ignoring Uncle Vernon's shouts and quickly crouching down, Harry searched for the source of the commotion, which was not his fault, for the third time that night.

He spotted it immediately, a dazed, ruffled barn owl (so typical of the poor Weasley's owl, it was an absolute miracle that it didn't die while delivering the message... Judao...) was squatting on the window sill outside the kitchen, and it just hit the closed window.

Pretending not to hear Uncle Vernon's distressed cry of "Owl!"

Harry walked across the house and opened the window.

The owl had its legs together, a small roll of parchment in its mouth, ruffling its feathers, and was running away the moment Harry got the letter.

Harry's hands shook as he opened the second letter, which was written in a rather sloppy, cheap black ink.

Harry:

Dumbledore had just arrived at the Ministry of Magic and was trying his best to smooth things over. Don't leave your aunt and uncle's house. Don't cast any magic again. Don't hand over your wand.

Arthur Weasley.

Dumbledore was trying his best to smooth things over, but what did that mean? How powerful does Dumbledore have to be to ignore the orders of the Ministry of Magic? So, is there still a chance for him to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

A small hope sprouted in Harry's heart, but was quickly killed by fear; what could he do to refuse to hand over his wand without using magic?

He would have to duel a representative of the Ministry of Magic, and if he did, he would be thrown into Azkaban Wizarding Prison, not just expelled.

His mind was racing. He could run away and risk being wanted by the Ministry of Magic, or he could stay here and wait for the Ministry of Magic to find him. He found the former option tempting, but he knew Mr. Weasley was sincere, and at any rate it was better not to make the situation worse before Dumbledore tried to resolve it.

"That's right," said Harry, "I've changed my mind and I'm going to stay here."

He stormed over to the kitchen table and faced Dudley and Aunt Petunia.

The Dursleys seemed puzzled by Harry's sudden change of mind. Aunt Petunia stared at Uncle Vernon desperately. The veins on the latter's purple face were more prominent than before.

"Where did all these damn owls come from?" he complained.

"The first is an owl directly under the Ministry of Magic. It came to fire me," Harry said calmly. He was keeping his ears open to catch any movement outside, in case a representative from the Ministry of Magic was approaching, and it would be better to answer Uncle Vernon's questions succinctly and quietly than to have him rage and roar.

"The second one is from my friend Ron's father, who works at the Ministry of Magic."

"Ministry of Magic?" cried Uncle Vernon. "A guy like you is in the government! Oh, that explains everything, everything. There is no doubt that our country is dying."

When Harry didn't respond, Uncle Vernon stared at him and then slapped him, "Then why did they fire you?"

"Because I use magic."

"Aha!" cried Uncle Vernon, slamming his fist on the top of the refrigerator, causing some of Dudley's low-calorie snacks to pour out and spill onto the floor.

"So you used magic! What did you do to Dudley?"

"Didn't do anything," Harry said, his voice already losing a bit of calmness, "That's not what I -"

"It's you." Dudley muttered without warning. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia immediately signaled Harry to be quiet and bent over Dudley at the same time.

"Go on, son," said Uncle Vernon, "What did he do?"

"Tell us, darling," Aunt Petunia whispered too.

"He pointed his wand at me," Dudley muttered. "Yes, I did, but I didn't use-" Harry began to get angry, "but..."

Harry didn't seem to know how to explain it. It was obviously him who saved the pig, but the dementor almost sucked out Dudley's soul, but the Muggles couldn't see it...those dementors , only those who can capture the magic can discover...

"Shut up!" cried Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia together. "Go on, son," Uncle Vernon repeated, his mustache bristling with rage.

"Everything went black," Dudley screamed hoarsely, shaking all over. "Everything went black. And then I heard - heard a voice in my head."

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia exchanged looks of absolute horror. If there was one thing they hated most in the world - and that seemed to their neighbors who lied more than they did - then it was followed by a ban on hosepipes (a ban on running water in flowerbeds due to drought). Water law)... People always have a clear distinction between love and hate in this kind of thing. The Dursleys clearly thought Dudley had lost his mind.

"What did you hear?" said Aunt Petunia, her face pale and her eyes filled with tears.

But Dudley looked like he couldn't say any more.

He shuddered again and shook his fat blond head vigorously, feeling a degree of curiosity despite the numbness of fear that had gripped him since the first owl arrived. .

Dementors cause a man to relive the worst moments of his life. What would Dudley, who had been pampered, overfed, and bullied since childhood, be forced to hear?

Bullied by him?

I remember that when Fred and George came, Dudley was most afraid of him. Otherwise...

Harry couldn't figure it out. After all, the difference between Dudley and him was so huge. The difference between an ordinary pig... and a wizard...

"And how did you end up falling on your head, son?" Uncle Vernon asked in that unusually calm tone he would only adopt when around a dying patient.

"He tripped," Dudley said weakly. "And then—" He pointed at his fat chest.

Harry understood. Dudley was remembering the clammy cold that filled his lungs and all the joy sucked out of him. "It's horrible," Dudley hoarsely cried. "Cold. Really cold."

"Okay," Uncle Vernon said in a forcedly calm tone, while Aunt Petunia anxiously placed a hand on Dudley's forehead to feel his temperature.

"What happened then, Dudley?"

"Feel-feel-feel-like-like-hell..."

"As if you would never be happy again," Harry added dully. +

"Yes," Dudley whispered, still trembling.

"Therefore!" Uncle Vernon's voice returned to its high pitch, as if he were clarifying the facts. "You used some crazy spell on my son, so he heard something and thought he was - doomed to be miserable or something, right?"

"How many times do you want me to tell you?" said Harry, his temper and voice rising, "That wasn't me! Those were two Dementors!"

"Two - what are you talking about?"

"Physios," Harry said clearly and slowly, "Two."

"So what do these hellish creatures do?"

"They guard the wizarding prison, Azkaban," Aunt Petunia said. After these words and two seconds of silence, Aunt Petunia covered her mouth as if she were letting a disgusting curse slip from her lips.

Uncle Vernon looked at her with wide eyes.

Harry's brain felt dizzy. Mrs. Figg had already done it once—could it be Aunt Petunia too?

"How did you know this?" Uncle Vernon asked Aunt Petunia in surprise. Aunt Petunia also looked at herself in surprise. She stared at Uncle Vernon with a frightened apology, then gently lowered her hand and bared her horse-like teeth.

"I heard - that horrible boy - tell her about the Dementors many years ago," she said hesitantly.

"If you're talking about my parents, why don't you use their names?" Harry said loudly, but Aunt Petunia ignored him. She looked frightened and panicked.

Harry fainted.

Except for that outburst a year ago, Harry had never heard Aunt Petunia mention his mother, and that was the only time her aunt screamed that Harry's mother was a weirdo.

Weird thoughts?

For Muggles, wizards do belong to the type with problematic thinking. In the eyes of wizards, Muggles are the kind of people with incomplete mental development...

However, much to Harry's surprise, when Aunt Petunia tried her best to pretend that the magical world did not exist at all, she could still remember the information about the magical world that she had heard many years ago.

You know, the years between when his mother went to Hogwarts and when they died - and when he went to Hogwarts...

Uncle Vernon opened his mouth, then closed it, opened his mouth again, and closed it again. It was obvious that he didn't know what to say. When he opened his mouth for the third time, he finally said hoarsely: "Therefore - therefore - they - they Are they - they really exist, are they - a reality?"

Aunt Petunia nodded.

Uncle Vernon looked from Aunt Petunia to Dudley and then to Harry, as if hoping someone would tell him it was "April Fools' Day." When no one did, he spoke again, but the meager proverb he had managed to find was interrupted by the visit of the third owl of the night. (To be continued)