Meeting Harry at the Ice Cream Parlour

"The Ministry of Magic is indeed like a sieve..."

Loren muttered to himself as he put the newspaper back on the counter under the disapproving gaze of the shop assistant.

Nearby, Hermione, having finally finished paying for her bulk purchase of parchment, floated over with a bright, studious smile on her face, "What are you looking at?"

"Let's check the recent the Daily Prophet to see if there's any big news in the Wizarding World while we're traveling."

Is there any big news?

Yes, but I won't tell you now.

Hermione snorted twice, "Fine, I won't tell you then. I'll order a copy to take home and read it myself."

Where do we go next?

"Let's go to Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. We're tired from shopping, let's take a break."

From the outside, this shop looks no different from any other ice cream parlor in the Muggle world, with a simple and clean decor, mainly in coffee color, and the shop's name printed in gold on the signboard. Perhaps because the weather was so nice today, there were many outdoor seating areas set up outside.

On the wall to the right of the entrance are a list of today's special drinks: Vampire Special - Virgin Blood Flavored Drink, Fairy Special - Golden Scented Ice Dew...

Of course, there were also drinks with normal flavors. Hermione went to the counter and ordered a super-sized Strawberry Avalanche Ice Cream, while Loren found a quiet spot by the glass window.

Surprisingly, they found Harry grinning foolishly in the corner.

"Happy birthday, Loren! Did you receive the Collapsible Cauldron I sent you?" Harry shouted, waving his dessert spoon excitedly.

Loren, recalling the plot of Harry running away from home, said absentmindedly, "Thank you. I guess I'll have already left home by the time Hedwig comes over. She should be waiting for me at home now."

Harry held the ice cream that Florian had given him, happily took a couple of bites, then realized what was happening and asked in surprise, "Oh, it's only early August, why are you here?"

Hermione sat down with a giant cup of strawberry avalanche ice cream and handed another spoon to Loren: "I came here with Loren for his birthday, but what about you? Why are you here?"

The moment Harry saw Hermione, his eyes widened. "You, you're Hermione!?"

It was Hermione, but she didn't look like Hermione at all. Her hair was no longer messy; instead, it was styled into a beautiful bun with hair gel, with a few strands left out in front, casually hanging on her forehead, adding a touch of languidness that made people unable to resist looking at her.

Hearing Harry's surprised question, Hermione couldn't help but laugh, her eyes sparkling, the sunlight streaming in through the glass window making her seem to glow.

Loren coughed, reminding him, "Let's continue with the story of why you're here, Harry."

Hermione, with her spoon in her mouth, glanced at Loren with a strange look in her eyes, and laughed even more happily.

Harry: "..."

Feeling somewhat superfluous, Harry scratched his head and began to recount his experiences with the Dursley: "A nasty relative of the Dursley house... so I blew up Aunt Marge into a balloon and hung her on the ceiling. In a panic, I ran out and somehow ended up on the Wizards' Knight Bus, which took me to Diagon Alley. Now I'm living in the Leaky Cauldron."

"She said such outrageous things! She deserves to be punished!" Hermione said angrily, glancing at his current appearance. Although he was a bit disheveled with messy hair, his eyes were clear and his smile was relaxed. She knew that Harry was probably alright.

Loren scooped up a large spoonful of ice cream and put it in his mouth, then said with a wry smile, "The International Statute of Secrecy and the Act on Reasonable Restraint of Underage Wizards—you've probably only violated 70 laws."

Is this the time to talk about this? Harry was speechless. "Thank you, Loren, for giving me a clearer understanding of my own guilt."

Harry shrugged. "At first I was also very nervous, but then I met Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, who said the Ministry of Magic wouldn't send anyone to Azkaban just because they blew up Auntie. He arranged for me to stay at the Leaky Cauldron and had Tom the Innkeeper look after me."

"Actually, it's not bad to stay here. I can get up whenever I want, eat whatever I want, and cast spells freely. In fact, as long as I'm in Diagon Alley, I can go wherever I want. The Leaky Cauldron is always full of interesting customers, the shop owners in Diagon Alley are all friendly, Mr. Fortescue even tutors me in writing papers, and every half hour he gives me a free ice cream."

"Dumbledore made me spend some time with the Dursley every year, and I think that's enough for this year. I can stay here until school starts!" Harry leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. "I love this place!"

Hermione looked at his messy hair, then at his clothes, which, although cleaned with Cleaning Charm, were wrinkled and looked terrible.

The little Witch had a vague feeling that something was wrong, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Loren understood this even better; he had experienced it himself. For a time, he thought life in a children's Fawley was quite good, until he met Grandpa Bates and realized what true security felt like.

After a moment of silence, Loren asked softly, "Harry, do you really think it's nice here?"

The voice was calm, the tone ordinary, but it was this calmness that washed away the smile on Harry's face. He tried to force a smile, to return to his previous state, but he couldn't manage it. His expression even showed a hint of panic and embarrassment.

He knew, of course, that this place wasn't good, or rather, it wasn't that good. He could sleep as long as he wanted each day because no one woke him up.

Eating under the parasols outside the coffee shop is certainly nice, but he would much rather have someone sit at the same table with him, asking about the weather while cutting the steak, rather than him counting how many strips of meat were on the steak and how many leaves of thyme were on the plate.

The kindness of those bosses always reminded him that he was a homeless person.

Harry's head drooped, like a defeated greyhound, almost buried in an ice cream bowl. His voice was muffled, like the whimper of a defeated dog. "But I have nowhere to go. I can't go back to the Dursley house, and I don't know where Sirius Black is. I have nowhere to go..."

"Bang bang bang!"

Hermione slapped the table and looked at him seriously. "Harry, you do have somewhere to go. Ron would be more than happy to have you at the Burrow, and Loren and I would also love for you to come to our house."

"And Hagrid, he must be having a hard time Care of Magical Creatures right now, and desperately needs someone to give him some advice," Loren added. "Anyway, it's better than you living here."

Harry paused for a moment, then managed a forced smile at them, which looked worse than a grimace. "But Fudge won't let me leave Diagon Alley."

Loren looked away in disgust, then scooped up a spoonful of ice cream. "It's because Bellatrix Lestrange escaped from prison."

"Bellatrix Lestrange! The Death Eater Neville's parents insane, she's escaped!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise, patting Loren on the shoulder a few times. "Is this the big news you didn't want to tell us?"

"I knew it would turn out like this, so I planned to talk about it later..." Loren pretended to be in a lot of pain and gasped, which made the little Witch feel sorry for him and rub his arm.

"Ugh~ Can't you guys continue after I leave?" Harry felt a bit of a toothache. "I also saw the news that Bellatrix was released from Azkaban by the Deputy Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Why is Fudge monitoring my movements when they've escaped?"

"Because you are Harry Potter," Hermione said seriously. "Bellatrix was a staunch supporter of Voldemort, and she was also a madwoman. After Voldemort fell, the Death Eater either fled or scattered, but she not only did not flee, but also attacked Neville's parents."

Who in the Wizarding World doesn't know the name of your the Chosen One Harry Potter? If Bellatrix finds out what happened back then, you'll suffer even more torment than the Lumbard couple!

"No, no way..." Harry swallowed hard.

"I don't think so either." Loren shrugged and shared his analysis with them. "That madwoman is an impatient person. If she were still in England, Harry would already be in St Mungo's's bed. And you still have time to go shopping and eat ice cream, which means that Bellatrix has already escaped the country. Who knows, they might have already joined Voldemort."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"That makes sense." Hermione nodded thoughtfully, then a new question arose. "If that's the case, then why is the Ministry of Magic monitoring Harry?"

Loren explained, "They dared not gamble. The defection of a high-ranking official from the Ministry of Magic, along with the release of the notorious Death Eater, would severely damage the Ministry of Magic's reputation. They even publicized Wormtail's escape to save face for the Ministry of Magic. If the famous Harry Potter were attacked at this time, Fudge would be forced to resign due to public resentment."

"So it was all for his position." Harry chuckled sarcastically. "I almost thought the Minister for Magic had turned out to be a good guy."

Just then, a huge, furry gray Great Grey Owl swooped down toward Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, seemingly exhausted and disoriented, and crashed into the windowpane with a thud.

"Errol!" Harry shouted, rushing out to carry the poor old postman back inside.

Hermione hurried to the counter and asked for some water and fruit, placing them in front of Errol. But Errol seemed utterly exhausted; he only opened one blurry eye, barked once in thanks, pecked at the water a few times, and then lay down on the table to rest, too weak to eat the fruit.

The three of them sat to the side, waiting for poor Errol to slowly recover.

Loren glanced at it silently several times. In fact, he was a little worried that the old owl might not be able to catch its breath and would squawk, because it had a large bundle tied to its leg.

"It must be Ron's birthday present to you," Harry said.

Loren thought for a moment, grabbed the package, and tore open the parchment. Inside was a gift wrapped in gold paper, and a Birthday Card:

Dear Loren:

Happy birthday!

You and Hermione went to Egypt too! And had a thrilling adventure, which Bill told us about. Oh, you guys are so unfriendly!

I couldn't think of any gift you'd like, so I gave you an Egypt sorcerer's Potions- making Stirring Rod. It looks like Pharaoh's Scepter, and supposedly you can tell the temperature of the cauldron by the color of the scepter, but George and Fred have been studying it for days and still can't figure out how to use it.

Hopefully you can find how to use it.

I can't believe Harry managed to inflate his aunt's sac, and the Ministry of Magic hasn't punished him at all. My dad said it was the result of discussions among the Ministry of Magic officials. He also told me that Harry is currently living alone in the Leaky Cauldron.

Errol is too old. I'd like you to write a letter to Harry using the Hānhan and ask if he'd be willing to the Burrow until the start of the school year. My dad will be able to help with the Ministry of Magic. That's why we've returned to the Burrow from Egypt ahead of schedule.

Ron

P. S.: Could I borrow the paper on the Shrinking Potion for reference? Thank you so much!

After reading the letter, Loren smiled and relayed Ron's invitation to Harry.

"Really?!" Harry jumped up in surprise. "I'll go pack my bags right now!"

He turned and ran out of the ice cream shop, then ran back half a minute later, carrying the old owl with him. His joyful and loud voice carried far away. "There's a fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, Errol, I'm taking him straight back to the Burrow!"

Loren turned to look at Hermione, and they smiled at each other.

At the Mount Greylock, Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Ilvermorny doesn't have a history as long as Hogwarts; it's only been around for a little over three hundred years. The Stone Cottage built by its Founders, Aesop Thayer, and her Muggle husband James Stewart, still stands on a clearing on the hilltop.

Out of respect for the Founders, few students come here, and even teachers and the principal only come to commemorate the occasion on special occasions like the centennial celebration. As for now, before the start of the school year, even fewer people will come.

But today, voices could be heard coming from the long-abandoned Stone Cottage.

Through the narrow cracks between the stones, one could see a tall, Lestrange -skinned woman kneeling on the floor inside the house. Her hair was disheveled, and the prison life in Azkaban had sunken Bellatrix cheeks, making her look emaciated and like a skeleton, but a fervent and crazed light shone on her face:

"I knew it! I knew it! The great Dark Lord has conquered death; he can never be defeated!"

Before her kneeling was a dark shadow, where the sunlight could not reach. From the shadow emerged a pair of Winky red eyes, like those of a snake, from which came a cold and terrifying voice. "Bellatrix, my loyal servant, I know that you remain loyal to me even on the judgment seat. Only if you manage to find me, as you said, will I return to save you, and I will reward you greatly."

Bellatrix's posture became even more humble, her voice filled with fanaticism. "Great Dark Lord, I need no reward, I only wish for your true return, so that the world may once again feel the fear of being dominated by the Dark Lord."

The snake-like eyes flickered in the shadows, emitting a terrifying, cold light. "Of course, of course, but before that, we need to plan carefully."

"Master, please...please...don't send me to Hogwarts." In another part of the room, there was a short, stout middle-aged man kneeling on the ground.

"Wormtail ..." Voldemort's voice was soft, "Trust me, I will reward you."