Summer Vacation Begins

They talked until it was completely dark outside before Loren and Bates said their goodbyes.

Summer nights are filled with the chirping of various insects. Only a small part of the moon is visible, so it is not particularly bright. However, the sparse stars are very bright and twinkling.

Loren looked up at the crescent moon in the sky. "Grandpa Bates, how is your Werewolf Disease? Have you had any discomfort in the past year?"

"Haha!" Bates patted his chest. "Ever since your Headmaster Dumbledore treated him, he hasn't had a relapse."

He put his arm around Loren and patted him on the shoulder. "Study magic well and become a wizard like Headmaster Dumbledore in the future."

"Oh."

Bates thought for a moment, "It's okay if I don't become that kind of wizard. As long as I'm happy, I don't need to worry about life."

You're pretty optimistic.

Loren chuckled, "That's what I've always done."

Bates, recalling the little incident at the dinner table, patted his head and chuckled as he instructed, "Whether you want to work or not, if Hermione wants to, you have to help her."

"Forget about that, the things she has to do are too troublesome."

"Hey? You little rascal..."

The two walked along a path at night, their shadows stretched into long, thin strips by the streetlights.

Back home, Loren made his bed and put some everyday clothes from the pendant into the closet. Fortunately, with the help of Household Magic like the Cleaning Charm, it wasn't even ten o'clock when he finished tidying up his bedroom, washing up, and going to bed.

After wriggling around in bed a few times to get used to the comfort of his home bed and finding a comfortable position, Loren took out the Fantasy Book and lightly touched the book-shaped icon with his finger.

With a shift in consciousness, the next moment, Loren appeared in a brightly lit virtual Library.

The Library is now several times larger than it was originally, and Flamel has created a special area for storing Muggle books.

The current Fantasy Book Library contains six hundred years of Nicolas Flamel's collection, as well as the entire collection of a national Library. Loren felt that he would probably never have the chance to read all of these books in his lifetime.

Flamel seemed to still harbor this vision, immersing himself in the sea of books every time Loren entered the Fantasy Book.

He seems to pay more attention to books in the humanities and social sciences, while he only skims through books on natural sciences, merely looking at them superficially without delving into in-depth theories.

Loren said he could understand; even a ghost without a physical body would get a headache looking at those things.

"You look a little confused?" Flamel looked up from a book called "A Study of Hysteria."

Loren nodded. "After I came back from school, I heard about a comet on TV and then had a strange dream, which felt like some kind of omen."

Flamel put down his book, a look of interest on his face. "Tell me about this comet."

"The news says that this comet broke away from the asteroid belt on the outer edge of the solar system and entered the solar system as a periodic comet. On July 8, 1992, when it was 40,000 kilometers from the surface of Jupiter, it was broken into 21 pieces due to strong tidal forces. It is now being pulled by Jupiter's gravity and is expected to collide with Jupiter's southern hemisphere."

"The power of the stars—this is indeed a sign of opening the Book of Abraham." Flamel nodded. "And what about your dream? What did you dream about?"

Loren thought for a moment, then drew his wand and pressed it to his temple, drawing out a wisp of silvery memory. He flicked the wand upwards, shooting the dream memory into the dome of the virtual space.

The Library dome overhead faded, and the interplay of light and shadow revealed the scene from Loren's dream.

An endless expanse of hazy, yellowish smoke and bright white clouds were swept up by a white, oval-shaped anticyclonic storm, which expanded into an even larger tornado. The turbulent storm swept across the vast world at high speed, and scorching fire rain fell like meteors, igniting the entire sky; a sea of fire raged and burned fiercely.

The burning flint, trailing a brilliant tail of flame, crashed with incredible force into the dust below. The violent shockwave Cleansweep the entire world, sending up even more yellowish dust that obscured everything in sight...

"This doesn't look like a scene from Earth?" Flamel frowned. "Based on your description, I suspect this might be a Prophecy dream, a dream of a comet colliding with Jupiter."

"So, what should I do to prepare for this dream?" Loren asked.

"What preparations can you make in the face of the power of the stars and the universe?" Flamel shrugged. "The Book of Abraham is too mysterious. Your situation is completely different from Nicol's. I cannot give you any advice."

Loren was a little annoyed. "Then what should we do, just wait patiently?"

"It seems that this is the only way now."

London, at the Creevey home.

"Colin! Come down for dinner!" Mrs. Creevey called upstairs as she brought a plate of Yorkshire pudding to the table.

Like Colin, Mrs. Creevey had light brown curly hair and was not very old.

She complained, "This child, even when he comes home for vacation, doesn't have a proper chat with his family. That camera is in such bad shape, how could it possibly be repaired?"

Mr. Creevey sat in his seat, chuckling as he teased his youngest son, Dennis: "Let him play if he wants. If we can't fix it, we'll just get him a new camera."

Mrs. Creevey got angry. "Change it?! What do you think the Creevey family is? How many milk deliveries would you have to earn to make the price of a camera?"

Mr. Creevey was a milkman. Although his friendly personality and thoughtful service attracted many customers, enough to support a family, it wasn't enough for the Creevey family to buy a camera casually.

Unperturbed by his wife's scolding, Mr. Creevey placed his youngest son, Dennis, on a chair beside him and began setting the table. "Don't be so angry. We can always go to a secondhand appliance store and find an old one."

He smiled at his wife, "Did you see the photos Colin took? They actually move! I didn't believe it at first, that there were really so many wizards and magic in this world."

"I've believed for a long time that your son has done so many strange things. Dennis is the same way, so he's probably a wizard too."

Mrs. Creevey looked up again and called upstairs, "Colin! If you don't come down, I'll make your dinner with the camera!"

With a series of pattering footsteps, Colin Creevey came running down the stairs, his face beaming with excitement. "Mom and Dad, you'll never believe it! The camera only had the film burned around the edges; we can fix it by replacing some parts!"

"Camera, camera, all you ever think about is cameras! It's lunchtime!" Mrs. Creevey slapped him. "And there's still the petrification thing I haven't told you about. When your Professor McGonagall wrote to tell you about the attack, your father was so scared that he smashed a dozen milk bottles."

Mr. Creevey's lips twitched a few times, somewhat resentful that his wife had brought this up in front of their son, but he only dared to complain in his heart and dared not say it aloud.

Colin obediently sat down. "It's all alright, isn't it? The Boy Who Lived, the great Harry Potter, finally defeated the Basilisk."

"You still dare to talk!"

The meal was quite noisy, and the aroma of dinner and the sounds of conversation filled the whole house, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere.

After dinner, Mrs. Creevey got up to clean the Kitchen, while Creevey Father and Son discussed which camera parts they needed to buy.

Knock knock knock!

A knock came at the door.

"The milk has all been delivered today." Mr. Creevey was taken aback. "At this hour, who would be knocking on the door?"

With a sense of doubt, I opened the door and saw an old man with a long white beard, wearing a loose robe, standing in front of me.

Colin exclaimed in delight, "Headmaster Dumbledore!"

"Good evening, um, three Mr. Creevey." Dumbledore nodded with a smile. "I'm here to discuss compensation for the attack on Colin."

Mr. Creevey stood by the door, bewildered, his gaze instinctively drifting to his son.

"You have plenty of time to discuss this. I can go to the next student's house first."

"Hmm..."

His face felt a little itchy, so Loren reached out and scratched it. He opened his eyes slightly and saw Hermione leaning closer to look at him. Beneath her long eyelashes were a pair of large brown eyes, clear and bright like glass, holding stars within them.

Loren: "..."

If his memory serves him right, today is the second day of his holiday at home, and he is currently sleeping in his bedroom, which is definitely locked.

"How did you end up in my bedroom?" Loren grabbed a thin blanket and sat up, asking with a look of surprise.

Hermione chuckled softly and released the strand of hair she was holding, "Apparition, and it came in in a flash."

Screw you, Sir Nicholas's head!

Loren rolled his eyes so hard they almost reached the sky. "Trespassing on a private residence, Hermione Granger, do you know that's illegal? Whether it's Muggle law or wizarding law."

Hermione sat down naturally on the edge of the bed. "I knocked when I entered this house. Grandpa Bates opened the door. It wasn't an intrusion."

Loren shrank to the side, then suddenly realized he wasn't sleeping naked and didn't need to be wrapped in a thin blanket all the time. He grabbed Hermione's shoulders and shook her, asking fiercely, "Then why didn't you knock before entering my bedroom?"

"Hmm—" Hermione couldn't suppress the smile on her lips, "I was afraid of disturbing your sleep."

"Aren't you disturbing us now!"

"I waited fifteen minutes specifically to wake you up, just in time for your wake-up time."

Loren pointed at her with an incredulous look. "So you stood by my bedside watching me sleep for fifteen minutes!"

"It's what I should do."

Loren took a deep breath. "Very good, I'll wake you up tomorrow."

"You're awful!" Hermione's smile vanished, and she rebuked her sternly.

You're the one who's awful!

"You're worse!"

Hermione finally stopped repeating herself. "Get up! We're going to the mall to buy clothes today!"

"Ha! You lost!"

"Who would play such a childish game with you!"

"You're naive."

"You're the childish one!"

"You're more childish!"

The summer vacation of 1993 began amidst the bickering of the two.

Unlike previous years, the Mr. and Mrs. Granger didn't close their dental clinic to accompany Hermione on vacation; the clinic remained open as usual. The two families occasionally dined together and spent weekends vacationing together.

A Saturday in late June, Brighton Beach, London.

A vast expanse of blue sky, dotted with only a few scattered clouds, bright sunshine, the sand on the beach like a carpet, azure waves gently lapping the shore, the sea breeze bringing the sound of crashing waves.

A small yacht was drifting slowly on the sea.

Loren, wearing a baseball cap and a short-sleeved beach shirt, was lounging in a chair. In front of the chair was a blue bucket containing four or five striped bamboo sharks.

The spotted bamboo shark, also known as the cat shark, is abundant in this area and is quite easy to catch.

I glanced to the side and saw that Grandpa Bates was just having fun, leisurely enjoying the sea breeze, his gaze fixed on the distant scenery, not even pulling the lever when the buoy moved.

Wendell fished very diligently, but his bucket remained empty; he hadn't caught a single fish.

Loren looked away... Never mind, let's stop fishing here for today. It would be impolite to keep going.

He's Hermione's father after all; we shouldn't embarrass him too much.

"Loren, why are you lying down? Get up and keep fishing!" Wendell frowned and urged him seriously, but his gaze was a little unnatural when he looked at the fish in the bucket.

"The wind has picked up, making fishing difficult. I'll take a break for a while."

"Yes, that's right." Wendell nodded, glancing at Loren. "I usually fish for freshwater fish on weekends, so I'm not used to switching to sea fishing. Plus, the sea breeze has made it so that I haven't caught any fish yet."

Loren nodded. "That's right."

Bates couldn't help but laugh, his shoulders shaking.

The wind at sea kept blowing, and Wendell caught nothing until sunset, returning empty-handed.

4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

Harry Potter was an unusual boy in many ways. For example, he hated summer vacation the most during the year.

For example, he didn't really want to do his homework, but in order to avoid spending time with the Dursley, he had to spend all his time doing his homework in the storage room under the stairs just a few days into the summer vacation.

The sun was almost setting, and the light was getting dim.

Harry lay face down on the bed, holding Flashlight in one hand, with a large, leather-covered book (The A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot) open against the pillow.

Harry's Eagle Feather Quill moved across the paper as he frowned, searching for something to help him with his essay, titled "The Fourteenth-Century Practice of Burning Witch at the Burning of Their Heads Is Utter Nonsense."

The quill stopped on a passage that looked somewhat valuable. Harry pushed his round-framed glasses up his nose, held the Flashlight close to the page, and quickly scanned the contents.

In the Middle Ages, witch hunts were common. Muggle would capture wizards, tie them to Stake, and set fire to kerosene and wood in an attempt to kill them. But this burning was ineffective; the Flame-Freezing Charm ensured the wizard's safety.

The Wendelin the Weird has a strange hobby: she deliberately disguises herself in various ways, gets caught forty-seven times, and is burned forty-seven times.

Harry paused for a moment, then carefully twisted open the ink bottle, dipped the quill pen in again, and wrote the passage into his paper.

"Harry! Come out for dinner!" Aunt Petunia's voice came from outside.

"They're here!"

Outside were the Dursley: Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their son Dudley, Harry's only family in the world. Because of them, Harry had never properly enjoyed his summer vacation.

Well, except for last year, he spent his summer vacation with his godfather Sirius Black.

But Sirius Black moved away, and he had to live with the Dursley every day.

Due to various unforeseen circumstances, the Dursley, who had previously mistreated him, changed their attitude, making Harry's summer vacation somewhat strange.

Aunt Petunia saw Harry come out and saw the Flashlight on the bed through him. She hesitated for a moment and said, "Harry, if you like to do your homework there, we can run an extension cord in and turn on a light."

Uncle Vernon and his Dudley looked Harry over but said nothing.

"No need." Harry sighed almost imperceptibly.

That's how it was; the nicer the Dursley were to him, the less Harry felt comfortable, and he preferred to stay in his room doing his homework.