The Sun Also Rises

After waking up, Loren couldn't fall back asleep. He leaned against the headboard of the four-poster bed, watching the sunrise outside the window.

The stone sphere sealing the Resurrection Stone spun back and forth in his palm. He had the idea of using the Resurrection Stone to summon his parents' souls, but it was just an idea.

The person is gone, and although he doesn't know what the world of the dead is like, he doesn't want to disturb the departed souls, nor does he know how to face them.

The crimson glow of the sunset deepened, bringing a touch of warmth to the cold winter day.

Loren could never understand why Muggle and wizards, who are clearly the same species and have no reproductive isolation, were considered to have their lives cheap simply because they don't know magic.

Wormtail Peter is willing to blow up an entire street to escape, without caring how many Muggle will die as a result.

Sirius Black indirectly caused the deaths of 12 people, and the only person he cared about was Wormtail Black. Even during his ten years in Azkaban, he showed no remorse for his actions. If given the chance again, he would still hunt down Wormtail Peter at all costs, even if it meant the deaths of Muggle Peter.

The most absurd thing about the whole thing is that the two main culprits survived, while 12 innocent Muggle died on the spot.

House-elf were treated as lowly as slaves, yet Bige did not hesitate at all when Pyg burned Windsor Castle.

Are Muggle lives really that cheap...?

He wanted to ask this question on behalf of the Muggle.

——

It was before the sky had fully brightened.

In Wiltshire, at the luxurious Malfoy Manor, the House-elf have already risen and begun preparing breakfast for their masters.

Although there were only two people, breakfast was very lavish, with muffins covered in honey, roasted mushrooms and tomatoes, a salad made with more than a dozen kinds of fruits, and chickpeas stewed in a thick broth... Every dish exuded an enticing aroma.

However, the food was not enjoyed by the owners of the manor. Instead, a group of rude and rude people, covered in dirt and reeking of garbage dumps, wolfed down the food at the table, using both their hands and mouths. They acted as if they hadn't eaten a proper meal in ages, grabbing whatever they could and stuffing it into their mouths, chewing it a couple of times, and swallowing it whole.

Food gravy and scraps were spilled on the expensive carpet, making a terrible mess.

Lucius, the owner of the manor, stood to one side, suppressing the anger in his eyes. These lowly Werewolf, even if you tore their bodies apart and sold them, wouldn't fetch as much as this rug.

He glared at Old Crabbe, who was sitting on the sofa, and demanded, "What do you want to do?"

Half an hour earlier, Dobby frantically knocked on his bedroom door, waking him and Narcissa from their sleep and informing them that a group of uninvited guests had arrived at the manor gate.

Old Crabbe's massive, grizzly-bear-like body dented a large section of the leather sofa. He grinned, a hint of pleasure in his fierce expression. "Don't be so formal, Lucius. We're just following the Dark Lord's orders to discuss some matters with you."

Old Crabbe was very pleased with himself. For a long time, whether it was during his student days, his time Death Eater, or even his later "Sanctimonious" days, Malfoy had always been one step ahead of him.

Now the situation has reversed, and he is the one pressing down on Malfoy, watching Lucius's furious face. Old Crabbe feels as comfortable as if he has eaten honey.

Lucius's hand, hidden in his sleeve, trembled slightly as immense panic and fear instantly enveloped him.

Has the Dark Lord returned?

No, if the Dark Lord had truly returned, Crabbe wouldn't be standing before him now. The fact that the Dark Lord hasn't appeared means he can't appear; he hasn't fully recovered.

A jumble of complex thoughts surged through his mind, and one idea after another flashed through his eyes as he devised a plan that would be most advantageous to Malfoy.

The scene fell silent for a moment, with only the rude sounds of the Werewolf fighting over the food at the table.

Seated at the other end of the sofa was Fenrir Greyback, the leader of the Werewolf. He didn't go to fight for the food; the ordinary fare tasted bland to him. He stuck out his tongue and licked his lips and the two sharp teeth on his upper jaw; only human flesh could whet his appetite.

Greiberg wore a tattered leather jacket, two of the four single-breasted buttons missing, leaving only loose threads. His eyes were completely inhuman; the tiny pupils were shrunken, and the small amount of white around his eyes was surrounded by a black ring. His body was covered in disgusting hair, making his Werewolf identity clear even when he wasn't transformed.

His fingernails were thick and worn down to a long, sharp, wolf-claw-like shape. He would pierce the leather sofa with his nails, tearing it apart along the dark gold embroidery, enjoying the pleasure that the friction brought to his nails.

With great interest, Greiberg looked at Old Crabbe and said with a cruel smile, "Have you ever considered becoming Werewolf? With your physique, you would be far stronger than you are now after transforming."

Before Crabbe could speak, his beast-like eyes darted around. "Oh, no. You're too old. How about your son? I can make him the leader of the Werewolf, hahahaha..."

He laughed wildly, and when Old Crabbe jumped up in a huff, he quickly changed his tune. "It was just a joke."

Old Crabbe was breathing heavily. These damned beasts, the Dark Lord would skin them alive, pluck their disgusting teeth, and tame them into dogs sooner or later.

Lucius interrupted the farce, asking, "What do you want to discuss with me?"

"We need to get a few people out of Azkaban, and we need your help," Greberg said.

"What?" Lucius laughed angrily. "Bringing people out of Azkaban? Who do you think I am, the Minister for Magic? Even the Minister for Magic wouldn't do something like this."

Human emotions are complex. When you feel miserable, seeing someone else in a worse situation makes you feel better. When you feel furious, seeing someone else even angrier makes you feel better.

Old Crabbe held this view; Lucius's displeasure made him happy. With his anger subsided, he said to Lucius, "The Minister for Magic can't do this, but without the Minister for Magic, it's possible."

"What's the meaning?"

"We need you to find a Full Moon Night to hold a banquet and gather all the key officials of the Ministry of Magic together. Leave the rest to us."

Lucius was both shocked and terrified. "You're going to attack Ministry of Magic officials?!"

Greberg chuckled. "Of course not. We just want to do something that will catch the big shots off guard while they're enjoying their food and wine."

Lucius lowered his head in thought, and no one could see the expression on his face.

"You have plenty of time. You can think it over carefully: do you want to inform Dumbledore, or do as we say?" Old Crabbe said sinisterly.

"Let's go!"

Greiberg stood up and called out to the Werewolf scrambling for food at the table. The group then transformed into black mist and darted out of the Malfoy Manor, disappearing into the gray fog before dawn.

Squeak~

The door opened, Narcissa rushed downstairs to find a scene of utter chaos.

"What... what are they doing here? Is the Dark Lord coming back?" Narcissa asked in a trembling voice, trying to hold back her tears.

In the vast manor hall, Narcissa looked at the dirty carpet, the messy dining table, and the tattered sofa, and a deep sense of powerlessness rose from the bottom of her heart.

The peaceful and stable days seemed to be coming to an end, and turmoil would return, plunging them back into a life filled with death and fear. Narcissa's face was deathly pale, and her hands and feet were icy cold.

Lucius looked up, his face weary. He waved his hand and said, "Don't worry about these things, and don't mention anything about the Dark Lord to anyone."

"Write to Draco and tell him not to come back for the Christmas holidays this year." He strode upstairs to his study, intending to make some plans for the banquet.

Yes, no matter what they do, Draco can't be hurt, Draco can't be hurt.

As if finding some kind of support, Narcissa felt her blood and strength pump back from her heart.

"Damn it! Dobby, Dobby, get out here and clean this place up!"

The manor erupted in noise once again...

Hogwarts Castle, Great Hall.

As soon as Harry and his friends entered, the noise in the Great Hall ceased. The young wizards from all four houses fell silent, staring at him, trying to discern any clues about the Chamber of Secrets of Secrets from him. The other houses fared somewhat better; the Slytherin wizards didn't even blink. They couldn't understand why Heir of Slytherin would be a Gryffindor.

The Muggle-born young wizards peeked timidly, and when Harry's gaze swept over them, they quickly looked away, not daring to meet Harry eyes.

Faced with such gazes, Harry stood at the doorway, caught in a dilemma.

Suddenly, a force pushed him from behind into the Great Hall; it was George and Fred.

"Look, everyone, this is Heir of Slytherin!"

"Be careful, he's a very evil wizard."

Harry was shoved and stumbled, his comical appearance making Wood, Angelina, and the others laugh. The Gryffindor Quidditch Team players expressed their trust in Harry with exaggerated laughter.

Amidst the laughter, Harry suddenly found the courage to stride over to the long table, sit down, and enjoy his breakfast in peace.

Ron, suppressing a laugh, shook his shoulder and nudged him. "Half of the students in school think you go to the Chamber of Secrets every night."

"To my surprise, half of my classmates actually believed me..."

The two chattered away, not noticing Loren standing to the side. He seemed to have been there for a while, which wasn't surprising, as Loren was always more diligent than others and it was normal for him to get up early on weekends.

But Hermione sensed something was wrong; Loren looked dejected, and she could clearly feel his low spirits.

At this moment, Loren's mind was a complete mess, and he was already somewhat delirious. He had barely slept a wink last night, only resting briefly in the Fantasy Book. His mind was filled with memories from a year ago, and his body was suffering from the exhaustion of another Magic Surge.

He hadn't eaten properly last night, only getting some snacks from Dumbledore. Just as dawn broke, his stomach suddenly became empty, so hungry he felt like he could stuff a whole cow inside him.

But when he actually sat down at the long table and ate only half a croissant, he felt drowsy and was about to fall asleep at any moment.

Just then, a familiar voice rang in his ear. "Loren, what's wrong? Didn't you sleep well last night?"

Loren opened his eyes in a daze, barely glancing at Hermione. His mind was a complete mess, and he could only vaguely reply, "Hmm?"

The once clear, bright blue eyes were gone, replaced by lifeless black pupils. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot, her eyelids swollen and showing traces of unwashed tears. She looked like an abandoned, homeless young animal.

Hermione felt a pang of sadness, guessing that something must have happened after she returned to her dorm last night. She didn't ask here; instead, she packed some food in brown paper, put it in a cloth bag, and pulled Loren along, running towards the washroom.

"We're off to brew Potions," Hermione said to Harry.

His body was being dragged along by a girl with tremendous strength, constantly bouncing and swaying. Loren suddenly woke up, looked around, and slowly focused his vision before realizing the situation. He was somewhat bewildered.

The two ran all the way into Myrtle's Bathroom before Hermione stopped, grabbing his shoulder anxiously and asking, "What happened to your eyes? What happened after we separated last night? Did you get a letter from home? Did something happen to Grandpa Bates? Didn't you just go home to see him?"

After asking a barrage of questions, Hermione suddenly opened her eyes wide, as if remembering something. "I knew it! Why did you suddenly leave school and go home? Is Grandpa Bates seriously ill?"

The girl's face was deathly pale, and her voice was trembling with tears. "What happened to Grandpa Bates?"

Loren felt a warmth in his heart and was amused by the girl's appearance. He turned her over to comfort her, "Don't think too much, it's not about that."

He sat down beside the cauldron where he was brewing the Potions, lit a fire, observed the progress of the Polyjuice Potion, and added Potions to it. While the Potions was brewing, he recounted how he had regained his memories.

But he didn't mention Sirius Black Black Wormtail Peter, only saying that their parents were caught in the crossfire of the duel between the two wizards and died.

"Are my eyes different?" Loren belatedly touched his eyelids. Flamel said that the strangeness of his eyes came from a portion of overflowing soul power, and after the memory was unsealed, they seemed to have returned to their original color.

I wonder if Magic Sight is still available?

He blinked at the simmering Polyjuice Potion, and in an instant, a strange Magic Power light bloomed before his eyes. It seemed only the appearance had changed; the power remained.

Hermione thought for a moment and then carefully comforted her, "Don't wallow in sadness. You still have Grandpa Bates and all of us friends."

Loren stirred the potion, watching the vortex inside, which swirled and seemed to draw one's attention in. "I know, don't worry."

Hermione frowned. "If you ask me, Loren, don't keep things bottled up inside. If you're feeling down, just cry it out."

"I went to the children's Fawley when I was one year old. I didn't have a very deep relationship with my parents. It's just that I suddenly regained my memories, which made me a little sad, but I'm much better now." Loren slowed down his stirring, and his tone also slowed down. "You continue to brew the medicine. This is your job."

Hearing these words, Hermione felt a pang of sadness. She glared at them and said, "They are my parents, how could they not have feelings for me!"

Loren's feigned nonchalance and his attempt to change the subject made Hermione feel uneasy.

A feeling of pity turned to guilt and heartache in her heart. She racked her brains trying to think of something to say about the meaning of life, where the soul goes, and that death is a great adventure, in an attempt to comfort him.

Staring at the Polyjuice Potion, she even thought of the connection between Gillyweed and death, and went on to discuss seemingly plausible philosophical topics such as the true meaning of life, love, and continuity.

A few minutes later, Hermione felt more tired than if she had carried several thick books. Just as she was about to speak, she heard heavy, long breathing coming from beside her.

Loren sat cross-legged on the ground, nodding off.

Hermione was dumbfounded.