The Patronus's First Message

Breakfast time at the Granger house.

Wendell walked up the stairs with a freshly baked egg tart in his hand, stopped in front of his daughter's bedroom door, felt that the egg tart had cooled down, brought it to his mouth and took a bite, and immediately blew on it because the scalding hot filling was burning him.

After blowing on it for a while before finally swallowing the egg tart, Wendell smacked his lips with a hint of lingering fear and knocked on his daughter's bedroom door. "Hermione, get up and have breakfast... I know it's your first day off, but you can't sleep in this late—"

Before he could finish his sweet words to wake his daughter, the bedroom door clicked open.

The well-behaved daughter had already changed her clothes and was standing in front of the door. Apart from her slightly messy hair and her still slightly flushed face, she looked like she had been up for a long time.

Wendell blinked. "So you're already up. Go brush your teeth and get ready for breakfast. Mom baked the leftover egg tarts from yesterday."

"I... I've already brushed my teeth..." Hermione replied somewhat awkwardly.

"I've brushed my teeth... you're up really early..." Wendell muttered to himself. "Then come down and have breakfast."

Wendell turned and walked down the stairs, taking another bite of the egg tart, only to be burned and wince in pain once more.

Hermione followed obediently behind him.

The Granger house's breakfast, prepared by Dr. Mrs. Granger, consisted of a variety of foods including milk, fried eggs, bacon, egg tarts, Winky bread, and fruits and vegetables, providing a balanced intake of protein, fat, carbohydrates, and vitamins.

The food diluted the toothpaste smell in her mouth, and Hermione slowly came back to her senses. She drank her milk in small sips with a blank expression, secretly embarrassed and annoyed.

Loren is right, he must have been sleep-deprived, otherwise he wouldn't have done something so stupid.

Monica put the last half of the bread into her mouth, chewed it into small pieces, swallowed it, wiped her mouth with a tissue, and said about her plans for the day, "Hermione, our clinic won't close for a few more days. We'll take you out to play after we're done with this busy period. Can you ask Loren to play with you for a few days first?"

"Okay, Mom..." Hermione nodded. Her breakfast was coming to an end, and she picked up her cup to finish the remaining half cup of milk.

Wendell ate his egg tart slowly, then suddenly remembered something and asked, "We bought a new batch of toothpaste, fruit-flavored. Should we bring you back a few tubes, Hermione? How about the orange flavor?"

"Cough cough—"

Hermione suddenly choked on her milk, nearly spitting it out, and coughed violently twice. "No, no need... Daddy..."

"Why is this child acting so strangely?"

Wendell and Monica looked at her suspiciously.

The neighbors next door had also finished their breakfast by then.

Loren casually waved his wand, and the grease and food scraps on the dishes, cutlery, and cups automatically detached and slowly flew into the trash can. After the stains were mostly removed, the tableware lined up and jumped into the sink, scrubbing each other clean with a squelching sound, before hopping and hopping out and lining up neatly in the cupboard.

The whole process took less than a minute, and the Kitchen was ready.

Bates stood in the Kitchen doorway and witnessed the whole process. She couldn't help but sigh, "Household chores done with magic are incomplete. These dishes don't carry the love of family members."

Loren put away his wand, somewhat speechless. "The dishwasher can hold your love, as long as you're willing to wait an hour, or you can hand wash it..."

Bates was convinced and simply shut up.

He felt he had become lazy since moving to the city; when Loren wasn't home, he wouldn't even think to use the Kitchen once a month.

It's all Wendell's fault for always dragging him fishing, which forced Monica to invite him to stay for dinner.

After having breakfast and resting for a while, Bates took Loren to the back garden to weed, prune branches, water and fertilize.

The once-barren backyard has been completely transformed. The lawn is now lush, the flowers are in full bloom, and the trees provide ample shade. At first, Bates just wanted to plant some plants for fun to pass the time. Thanks to his ample free time, he planted more and more, and the quality improved with each planting. Now, the backyard is even larger than the one next door Granger house.

In June, the sun shines brightly, its warmth filtering through the leaves and bathing you in a comforting glow that makes you want to close your eyes and lie down.

After finishing these tasks, half a day was gone just like that.

Just as we were about to prepare lunch, there was another knock on the door.

Knock knock knock.

As soon as she opened the door, she was met with Hermione's bright, sparkling eyes. Her hair was casually tied into a loose ponytail, and she had changed out of her breakfast pajamas into a white short-sleeved T-shirt and short denim shorts that just went past her knees.

Hermione stood there gracefully, carrying the leftover ingredients from Monica's previous night. Her tone still sounded a little awkward, "Mom and Dad haven't started their holiday yet, so I brought these over to make lunch..."

Loren didn't speak, but just looked at her lips and teeth with a mocking gaze, like Acromantula, making one's heart tremble.

Hermione instinctively wanted to look down to avoid it, but then she thought, "It's just toothpaste foam, and we've already kissed." She rolled her eyes, stuck out her neck, and glared at him fiercely.

Loren tilted his head and blinked as he looked at her.

"It's Hermione ..." Grandpa Bates ' voice drew closer.

Hermione's fierce gaze vanished instantly, and her voice softened. "It's me. Mom asked me to bring the rest of the ingredients. She and Dad went to work and won't be back for lunch..."

"Then let's have lunch together!"

Bates took the ingredients and warmly invited her into the house.

As she passed Loren, Hermione gave him a smug look and wrinkled her delicate nose.

Loren turned his head away and gave a slight smirk.

Ah, first he was deferential, then he was obsequious; it's laughable to think about.

The task of making lunch naturally fell to Loren. After lunch, Hermione took the initiative to wash the dishes and clean the Kitchen. With a wave of her wand, the tableware was cleaned neatly and orderly, spun dry, and returned to its original place.

The two young wizards then began to discuss what combination of spells would wash away the dirt the fastest and cleanest.

Bates moved a deckchair to a good spot in the backyard, lay down lazily to sunbathe, and listened to the children's murmured discussions coming from inside the house, his breathing gradually becoming even and long.

These young wizards nowadays, tsk tsk...

The Ottery St Catchpole village is not well-known and its territory is not very large, but the people here live relatively well. Even during the years of economic downturn, they did not hear of any family going hungry.

However, this does not mean that it is an ordinary village. The elderly people living here have several magical stories. Every summer and Christmas, young people who have moved to the city will bring their children back to listen to the elderly tell those fascinating stories.

For example, some people have seen cars flying in the sky.

For example, there is a large house outside the village that can hide, and muffled explosions can be heard from inside the house from time to time.

For example, some people often see a strange little animal in their land that no one recognizes, but the children have heard from somewhere that those things are called Gnome.

The weather in Ottery St Catchpole has been lovely for the past few weeks, with the summer sun generously shining and warming the air.

In the quiet afternoon, in a secluded open space outside the village where no one could see, a crooked four-story building once again emitted the sound of Ghoul knocking on the attic wooden floor.

"George! Fred! Go to the attic and tell that guy to shut up!"

A loud woman's voice echoed throughout the small building. The housewife was clearly in a bad mood because her third son had graduated and started working, leaving early and returning late every day, sometimes not coming home for several days at a time.

Molly Weasley gets angry every time she thinks about it, so lately the Weasley family have been cutting potatoes into extra small pieces for dinner, as if someone is taking their anger out on innocent potatoes.

The sound of footsteps echoed up the stairs from the attic, and two minutes later, the Ghoul finally quieted down.

Ron, standing in the courtyard, looked up, squinted at the Fourth Floor window, then lowered his head to continue feeding the little owl, "Ginny, I bet you a Chocolate Frog Card, they've tied the Ghoul to the pipe again."

Sitting opposite her, Ginny's eyes gleamed slightly as she thought for a moment, "I don't want your pictures, just lend me Zhu Weiqiong."

Hearing its name called, the little owl scurried happily around the table, emitting a piercing hoot.

"It's all your fault! It only recognizes this name now!"

Ron gave her a wary look. He hadn't forgiven his sister for naming his owl first. He reached out and hugged the fluffy little creature. "Who do you want to write to? The Pigwidgeon is too small to deliver big packages!"

"No, it's just a letter!"

"Then I want your picture, Agrippa's."

"Deal!" Ginny said readily, her tone becoming lighter. "Mom scolded me for tying the Ghoul to the pipe; lately they've been hanging the Ghoul upside down!"

Ron looked at her suspiciously. "How did you know?"

Ginny's expression froze, and she murmured softly, "Someone has to help the Ghoul untie its ropes, it's so pitiful..."

The third floor of the Burrow, in the Twins ' room.

George and Fred were engrossed in a parchment list, their whispers never ceasing:

"Fake Wand... how about one Galleons?"

"Isn't it too expensive?"

"Hey, this is our exclusive product."

"Let's settle on these for now... Next up, Fat Tongue Toffee..."

A week of holiday has passed in the blink of an eye, and it's another leisurely afternoon.

Through the gaps in the leaves of the France trees in the courtyard, you can see the clear blue sky above. The white clouds, like fluffy cotton balls, drift lazily in the sky, and it takes a while to notice when they move. The sunlight is warm, and it can feel hot when it shines directly on you, but it's just right under the shade of the trees, and the breeze is gentle.

Loren and Hermione lay under the France tree, dappled with sunlight and warm patches of shade overhead, the sound of water gurgling from the pipes filling their ears.

Grandpa Bates was giving Crookshanks a bath. The water in the pipe was warm from the sun, and it was really hot for a long-haired cat like Crookshank in this weather. In theory, Crookshanks should have been very comfortable, but he was just a cat, and cats are naturally afraid of water and don't want to take a bath.

It was the first time Loren and Hermione had ever heard Crookshanks, who was always so old and sullen, howl out such a cursing voice, like an energetic young cat, though it wasn't very pleasant to listen to.

But no matter how much they whine, they still have to be washed.

The long-haired cat got wet, and its ginger-yellow fur clung together, strand by strand, making the already unattractive kitten look even uglier.

As the washing progressed, Crookshanks seemed resigned to his fate; his howls subsided, but his sorrowful expression grew even more distressed.

Loren locked onto a cloud through the gaps in the leaves, determining its direction of movement. In his mind, Loren imagined a virtual cloud that started from the position of the cloud he had just seen and slowly and steadily drifted toward another gap in the leaves.

The clouds in my heart drifted and drifted, until they drifted into the gap between the leaves of the next tree.

I close my eyes and count to one hundred, and the real cloud will drift to the next gap.

Loren closed his eyes and waited for a few minutes, then tilted his head and looked into another gap in the leaves—

Huh?

There are no clouds.

Looking back, the clouds were gone!

Where is my cloud, which is so big?

Just as Loren was searching for the cloud, Hermione's clear voice rang in his ears. "Loren, last night we practiced the technique of sending messages with the Patronus Charm in the Fantasy Book. Let's try it now."

"No, I'm busy."

"?"

Hermione tilted her head and looked at him. "What are you so busy with, Sir Nicholas?"

So she stood up and walked to Loren's head, put her hands under his armpits, and with a little force dragged him up like a wounded soldier on the battlefield, all the way to the base of the sycamore tree. Then she pulled him up a little more and let him lean against the tree trunk.

Hermione squatted down beside him, gently pulling his face towards her and instructing him, "Now I'm going to sit behind the tree, and we'll communicate using our Patronus, understand?"

Loren blinked. "Oh."

"..."

What do you mean by "oh"?

Hermione was a little annoyed, but she also knew he was just a lazybones. She rubbed his chubby cheeks, went behind the tree, and waved her wand. "[Patronus Charm]!"

The soft, silvery-white light gathered together and coalesced into a small Dolphin about the length of an arm.

The little Dolphin swayed its tail gracefully in mid-air, splashing up shimmering ripples. Hermione for a few seconds, then leaned closer and whispered, "How's the weather today?"

With a gentle flick of the wrist, the little Dolphin swam away in the direction of the staff tip.

Half a minute later, a swaying silver Orca approached, no bigger than an arm. Hermione leaned closer and listened intently. "Are you stupid? Can't you see for yourself?"

"!"

Hermione took a few deep breaths, suppressing the urge to attack, and dismissed the Orca Patronus to summon the little Dolphin again, asking, "How's the weather tomorrow?"

Half a minute later, the silver Orca returned, bringing with it someone's cheeky voice. "Are you stupid? How am I supposed to know what tomorrow will bring?"

"!"

For some reason, the message from the Patronus quickly went astray.

"You're the idiot!"

"You're stupid."

"Hateful!"

"You're awful."

"Bad!"

"You're awful."

"..."