Chapter 522 Harry's Holiday Life

Morning on the third Friday in July.

The sky outside the window was still dark blue, with only a faint fish belly white in the distant sky.

The air was sultry, and Privet Drive was shrouded in a drowsy silence.

Harry woke up from the bed, his head was still a little dizzy, and the pictures that he had not completely forgotten flashed in his mind. It was a long and dim corridor, and at the end of each corridor was a dead end or a locked door...

"Another nightmare..."

Harry raised his hand and touched his forehead. The slightly wet part was sweat, and the rough part next to it was a scab. During this period, the scar would occasionally sting and feel very uncomfortable. This meant that Voldemort's power was becoming stronger again, which was nothing surprising.

But it didn't hurt today.

Harry put down his hand and slowly let out a long sigh: "It seems that it is not the influence of Voldemort..."

He guessed that these dreams were probably related to the trapped beast-like emotions he had when he was awake.

There was a sound of flapping wings outside the window, and the newspaper owl postman landed on the window sill. Harry hurriedly stood up, took out a few copper knuts and handed them over, and took the "Daily Prophet" this morning.

Quickly glancing at the headline on the front page, Harry sighed softly, looking up at the sky that was getting brighter, and the question that had always been hanging in his mind became more and more urgent: Why hasn't anything happened yet?

A kind of uneasiness mixed with anxiety and worry once again unexpectedly overwhelmed him, slowly and persistently torturing him.

For a long time, he would wake up at five o'clock every morning before the alarm clock rang and pay for the newspaper delivered by the owl, but it was a pity that continuing to subscribe to this newspaper was useless.

These days, he just glanced at the first page and threw the newspaper aside. These idiots who run newspapers, once they know that Voldemort is back, they will definitely put this news as the front-page headline, and this is the only thing Harry cares about.

There are two mornings a week when the owl will deliver two letters he is looking forward to, from Ron and Sirius. Harry had been expecting letters from the wizarding world to bring him some useful news, but this expectation had been wiped out long ago.

It was the first Friday after the holiday:

"Dear Harry: We can't say too much about that matter. My mother asked us not to talk about anything important, so as not to send our letters to the wrong place. We are very busy now, but I can't tell you in detail here. Many things have happened. We will tell you when we meet you."

Sirius's letter did not reveal any news. Fortunately, there were some warnings and comforting words in the letter, instead of half-hiding and half-revealing, which made people feel itchy: "I know this must be very frustrating for you. As long as you behave yourself, everything will be fine. Be careful and don't do anything reckless..."

Harry lowered his head dejectedly and saw that the cars that were usually shiny and bright were now parked in the driveway in a gray manner. Only Uncle Vernon's car was a little cleaner. The once lush and green grass had turned yellow. Due to the severe drought, the watering hose had been stopped.

The days of July passed day by day, and the summer in Surrey was getting hotter and hotter.

The residents of Privet Drive usually spend their leisure time washing cars and mowing lawns. Now that neither of these two things can be done, they can only hide in the cold house, open the windows wide, hoping for a non-existent breeze.

If there is anything worth looking forward to on such days, it is that he can call his other two good friends for a quarter of an hour after dinner every day, although Loren and Hermione can only wait for news in the newspaper.

Before that, he can only hide in the room and practice magic to pass the time.

…

Towards evening, in the living room of the Dursleys.

Harry watched TV with the Dursleys. The two adults sat together, and he sat alone on a single sofa farther away.

The Dursleys looked at each other from time to time, and then glanced at Harry cautiously.

It seems that because he grew too fast in a short time, the black-haired boy with glasses looked a little thin, with no flesh on his cheeks and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, which made him look a little sick. He wore a gray T-shirt with loose jeans and new sneakers...

He looked no different from an ordinary middle school student - except that he would use magic to create enough water for Vernon to wash the car and ice cubes to keep the room cool every day...

Harry pretended not to notice their gazes. The three of them were very awkward, but they still kept silent tacitly and listened to the advertising song of the worthless fruit bran nutritious breakfast on TV.

Harry was waiting for the seven o'clock news, trying to find some clues about Voldemort and the Death Eaters from the Muggle news, such as some large-scale disasters, such as people disappearing for unknown reasons, or some strange accidents...

The heat and embarrassment tortured the hearts of the three people, and the sound of oil sizzling in the air seemed to be heard. At this time, an old lady walked slowly past the window, and her old voice came into the house:

"Good afternoon, the Dursleys... Harry, come to my house for tea when you are free..."

Of course Harry knew her, Mrs. Figg, who lived next door on Wisteria Road, had many cats and a strange temper. She seemed to be much warmer to Harry this holiday, probably because Aunt Petunia explained to the neighbors that he was not a little hooligan who refused to change his ways, and he was not reformed at St. Brutus's Incorrigible Juvenile Offenders Correctional Center.

"I will. Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Figg." Harry responded in a loud voice.

The old man turned a corner and his figure gradually disappeared, leaving only the swaying hydrangea bushes, breaking the stiff and stagnant atmosphere. Vernon moved his butt, and the fat on his body trembled:

"Drinking tea. Dudley went out for tea too, right?"

"He went to the Porches' house," Aunt Petunia said with a smile. "He made a lot of new friends, and everyone liked him so much that he didn't have to stay at home and play games all day."

Harry didn't say a word, because the music for the seven o'clock news had already started playing, and he was so nervous that his insides were slightly tense.

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"If it were me, I would let them enjoy naps for the rest of their lives!"

Harry didn't pay attention to Uncle Vernon's vicious voice, and a stone fell to the ground in his heart. After all, if something really happened, the headlines would be death and disaster, not vacationers stranded at the airport.

The following news is more ordinary, such as the drought in the southeast, a helicopter crashing in a field in Surrey, then a famous actress divorcing her famous husband... Finally, Bungie the budgerigar this year Found a new way to stay cool in the summer - learned to water ski...

Suddenly, a loud, echoing crack pierced the sleepy silence!

Harry stood up suddenly and took out his wand from the pocket of his jeans like a sword. He was sure that the explosion just now was made when someone teleported.

who is it?

Friend or foe?

Just when Harry was looking at the street, trying to figure out where the sound came from, two big purple hands stretched out from behind, grabbed his collar tightly, and threw him back. .

"Put it away, kid! Come on! Don't let anyone see it!"

Uncle Vernon roared into his ear, and the next moment he leaned his face out of the window and shouted, "What a charming night! Did you hear the sound of the car backfiring just now? It scared Petunia and me. A big jump!”

Only then did Harry notice several faces peeking out of various windows in the neighboring houses, especially the wife opposite who was staring at them with wide eyes. Perhaps she saw the ugly expression on Vernon's face. Smiling like a lunatic, the curious neighbors slowly disappeared from the window.

Uncle Vernon turned to glare at Harry and asked in a voice trembling with anger, "What the hell are you doing, kid?"

"What did I do?"

"Making that noise, like a pistol going off, right outside our window."

"I didn't make that sound."

"Don't be a smart boy with me. I know what your intentions are. You want to do something outrageous because you were outclassed by Dudley..."

ha?

Uncle Vernon actually thought that he made that noise just for publicity?

Harry struggled to restrain himself from snorting.

"We are not fools, you know that." Aunt Petunia said nervously, her voice suddenly lowered, "You have used enough magic this holiday, you must abide by the rules, otherwise..."

"It's really not me!" Harry wanted to explain, but couldn't explain it at all.

"Ignore the noise, kid!" Uncle Vernon waved his fist, "Next time something like this happens, I'll put you in the shed and lock you up!"

"Okay..." Aunt Petunia patted her husband's shoulder, her long and thin horse face expressionless, "Harry, go get Dada back, we are going to prepare dinner."

Harry took a deep breath and muttered depressedly, "I know."

He dragged his heavy steps out of the door, barely paying attention to the road under his feet, and subconsciously walked towards the playground.

The Dursleys were shrewd in some ways, but incredibly stupid when it came to their precious son Dudley, who spent every night of the summer vacation making up stupid lies about his gang of bad friends. Someone went to have tea, and they actually believed it.

He had seen these people's behavior when he occasionally walked in Little Whinging. In fact, Dudley didn't go to drink tea anywhere at all. He and his buddies vandalized public property in the playground every night, smoked on street corners, and shouted at Passing cars and children threw stones.

Crossing Magnolia Crescent, turned onto Magnolia Road, and walked toward the increasingly dim amusement park.

At a certain moment, Harry had the urge to simply tie the box to his broomstick and fly directly to the Burrow.

The urge was so tempting that he would have been unable to resist it had it not been for Hermione's advice on the train.

The door to the playground was locked. Harry jumped over and walked forward on the dry grass. The playground was as empty as the surrounding streets. He came to where the swings were and found a Dudley and his Those friends sat on the swing that had not yet had time to destroy it, holding one arm around the chain and looking at the ground with melancholy eyes.

Dudley would go home on his own when the time came. The guy wouldn't miss any dinner, he just had to wait here.

Night gradually fell, and a sultry and soft night arrived. The air was filled with the smell of hot hay, and all around could be heard the low sound of vehicles coming from the road outside the playground railing...

He didn't know how long he sat on the swing, and then the sound of other people's voices interrupted his meditation.

He raised his head and saw that the street lights on the surrounding streets cast a hazy light and shadow. A group of figures were walking through the playground talking and laughing. The one at the front was Dudley.

He is still as tall and tall as before, but after a year of strictly controlling his diet and his newly developed boxing talent, his physique is no longer as fat as before, but has become stronger. But Harry felt that Dudley's punches were getting harder and more accurate, which was not something worth celebrating.

Harry held back a yawn as he watched them walk out of the playground, following them slowly and leisurely.

"...He squeals like a pig, doesn't he?"

"Nice right hook, Dago."

The rude laughter continued until under the lilac tree at the entrance of the street, and the group of people who made the rude laughter dispersed.

"see you then."

"See you tomorrow, Da!"

"Goodbye, Brother Da!"

After the sounds faded away, Harry walked out from under the tree, slowly caught up with his cousin who was humming a tune in front of him, and chatted with him intermittently.

"Hey, Brother Da!"

"It is you."

"When did you become Brother Da?"

"none of your business."

"Who did you beat up tonight?"

"Who knows?"

They turned into the narrow alley, which was much darker than the two streets it connected because there were no street lights. The alley was bordered by a garage wall on one side and a high fence on the other, so their footsteps were muffled.

"How majestic, brother." Harry was stunned for a moment after saying this. For a moment, he felt like a first-year Malfoy. This discovery scared him to shut his mouth.

"That thing of yours is even more majestic..." Dudley suddenly shivered strangely and took a breath, as if he had been soaked by cold water.

What had been a mild and pleasant night suddenly turned bitterly cold.

The next moment, the bright stars, moon and dim street lights in the alley were suddenly swallowed up by darkness. The rumble of cars passing by in the distance and the rustling of nearby leaves gradually faded away. The entire alley was silent except for the heavy breathing of two people.

"What the hell are you doing!" Dudley's horrified voice sounded next to him.

"Quiet, it's not me."

The cold touch caused goosebumps to appear on his back, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Harry smelled a moist rancid smell, and the familiar strong discomfort lingered in his heart, making him stand stiffly motionless - —

The Dementors are coming.