Privet Drive Alley

"[Lumos] "

Under the faint white light of the Illumination Charm, Harry stared intently at the two dark figures in front of him. The massive, hooded figures hovered high above the ground, their feet and faces hidden beneath their robes. They glided Silencio toward him, their movements seemingly devouring the darkness bit by bit.

A pair of sticky, scab-covered gray hands emerged from the Dementor's robes, and an increasingly chilling coldness assaulted Harry to breathe, and he stumbled back two steps.

Dudley quickly retreated upon seeing this. He couldn't see the Dementor, but he could hear rustling whispers in his ear, as if a corpse was breathing in his ear. The whispers were indistinct, but chilling.

"Call upon God for protection..."

Harry instinctively recited the spell, but perhaps because he hadn't practiced the Patronus Charm in a long time, he paused for a moment, finding the spell somewhat awkward and difficult to pronounce.

Biting his tongue, Harry reviewed the spell's key points and recited, word by word, "[Patronus Charm]".

Wisps of silver smoke emerged from the tip of the staff, weaving into a tall, silver stag. The stag, its body gleaming with silver light, kicked its front hooves, lowered its head, and pointed its two antlers forward, aiming straight for the Dementor's heart.

The silver antlers pierced the two Dementor, lifting them up and tossing them into the air. The Dementor let out hoarse exhales and took off, disappearing into the boundless darkness.

The stag glanced back and transformed into a streak of silver light, piercing through the blockade.

In an instant, the starlight, moonlight, and streetlights illuminated the alley again, a warm and gentle breeze blew by, the sound of leaves rustling came from the neighbor's garden, and the sounds of cars on the street outside filled the air once more.

Harry stood motionless, his chest heaving. He didn't feel tired; besides the lingering panic, there was also a secret excitement.

Dementor appear here, in Little Whinging...

Was it an accident?

Or has Voldemort already discovered him?

Dudley drenched in cold sweat, his face was pale, and his body trembled slightly involuntarily. The sensation of decay and death was so real. Harry's behavior proved that there must be something terrifying ahead, but he couldn't see anything. An indescribable fear, like the viscous muddy water mixed with humus in a swamp, seeped into his very bones.

"Are you alright, Dudley?"

The questioning voice Dudley out of his daze. The lingering heat of the summer night gradually brought him back to his senses. His dry, chapped lips trembled a few times, Dudley roughly shoved Harry away, his eyebrows raised angrily. "What the hell are you doing!"

Dudley's eyes fell on the wooden stick, and he staggered back as if Dudley electrocuted. Before Harry could explain, he fled in a panic toward the Dursley house, not looking back, wishing he could fly away on his own two legs.

"Eh..."

Harry watched him turn into Magnolia Crescent, and just as he was about to chase after him, he suddenly heard heavy running footsteps behind him. He quickly turned his wand upside down and pointed it at the person coming from behind.

The eccentric old neighbor came running up, panting. Her graying hair was loose from her hairnet, a jingling net bag hung from her wrist, and her feet were almost slipping out of her thick plaid slippers.

"Mrs. Figg?" Harry was about to quickly hide his wand.

"Don't hide, silly child! What if there are still their people around?"

Mrs. Figg's voice was high-pitched, her hands clutching her handkerchief tightly as she muttered anxiously, "Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher! I told him long ago that if he dared to leave on his own to sell those dubious crucibles, I'd skin him alive, and look at him now! Dementor! Luckily, I had Titi warn me..."

Hearing wizarding terms like "Dementor" and "cauldron" from his cat-loving neighbor, Harry was momentarily stunned. "You... you're a wizard?"

"I'm a Muggle-born. Let's go, we'll talk on the way. It's not safe here." Mrs. Figg looked around warily, then tugged at Harry's sleeve and led him toward Privet Drive. "Mundungus is the wizard. He was in charge of your safety today and was supposed to be on duty until midnight, but he ran off!"

"That Mundungus has been following me... Wait!" Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "It was him! He Apparition right outside my house!"

"Yes, yes, thank goodness I had Titi hiding under a car just in case..." Mrs. Figg kept looking around, her movements just like her cat. When she saw Harry put his wand back in his jeans, she shrieked, "Don't put your wand down! I can't help you. I don't have much skill. I can't even Transfiguration a tea bag."

"Forget about the Statute of Secrecy now, you're going to be punished anyway. You'll die for a Fire Dragon, and you'll die for a Fire Dragon Egg. Speaking of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery..." Mrs. Figg and Harry both noticed the figure around the corner of the alley and their hearts jumped into their throats.

Mrs. Figg breathed a sigh of relief as she slowly approached and recognized the man's face. She muttered under her breath, "Oh, it's Mr. Prentice... Don't put your wand away, child. Haven't I told you all along that it doesn't work?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were a Muggle-born before, Mrs. Figg? I've been to your house so many times..."

Harry recalled the days when they lived in the cramped stairwell, and when the Dursley were away, they would leave him in Mrs. Figg's care, though she wasn't exactly kind.

"Dumbledore instructed me to look after you, but not to say anything, you were too young then. I'm sorry I made you very unhappy back then, Harry, but if the Dursley house think you like coming to my house, they will never let you come again."

"So, Dumbledore has been having people follow me all along?"

"Yes, of course. After what happened in June, did you expect him to let you wander around alone? Son, they told me you're very smart..."

Mrs. Figg's voice was tinged with sorrow, her hands twisting her handkerchief tightly. "This is not the time for such things, alas... How could Mundungus leave? He's supposed to be on duty until midnight. Where am I supposed to find him? How am I supposed to report this to Dumbledore? I can't Apparition..."

"I have an owl that I can lend you."

"Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore needs to act quickly. You may not believe it, but I must remind you, the Ministry of Magic already knows, because they have a system for detecting the use of magic by minors—"

"Trace, right?"

Harry interrupted her rambling, the image of that black-haired, black-eyed face appearing before his eyes, and a smile unconsciously crept onto his lips. "The Ministry of Magic won't know, because my friend has already removed the Trace for me."

Mrs. Figg opened her mouth, an incredulous expression on her face, and unconsciously murmured, "Oh, my dear..."

Just then, a piercing explosion suddenly came from the air ahead, followed by a strong stench of smoke and alcohol. A short, fat man with a stubble beard and wearing a tattered coat suddenly appeared in front of them.

His short, bowed legs, long, messy ginger-yellow hair, and swollen, bloodshot eyes made his face look as distressed as a short-legged hunting dog.

Mrs. Figg glared at the man and shouted, "Mundungus Fletcher, I'm going to kill you!"

Mundungus, clutching the invisibility Invisibility Cloak from Borgin's Blog, shrank back in fright, glancing at Mrs. Figg and then at Harry: "What's wrong, Figg? Weren't we supposed to keep our identities hidden?"

"Screw your attempt to hide your identity! The Dementor have already gotten this far, you useless, irresponsible liar!"

"Dementor?" Mundungus repeated, his expression horrified. "Dementor, here?"

"Yes, right here, you worthless stinking dung, right here! The Dementor attacked the children you were supposed to be in charge of! And all you did was sell those stolen cauldrons! I told you not to go!" Mrs. Figg grabbed her handbag and slapped Mundungus hard across the face and neck, the blows coming with a clanging, heavy force.

"I... sigh, I... this business opportunity is a rare chance, look—"

"Bang bang..."

"Oh dear! Enough... enough, you mad old raccoon! We need to send someone to tell Dumbledore!"

"Yes! You'd better go and tell him yourself why you're not here to help!"

"I'll go right now, I'll go right now!"

Mundungus lowered his arm from his head, his face already bruised and swollen. With another ear-piercing explosion from Apparition, he vanished from the spot.

Hampstead Garden, 9 p. m.

Loren sat on the sofa, waiting for Professor Granger to grade his Charms assignment—"An Analysis of the Basic Principles of Several Teleportation Spells with Similar Effects but Completely Different Implementation Paths."

Professor Flitwick's assignment required a spell with similar effects, but did not specify teleportation magic. If possible, Loren would prefer to analyze the basic principles of the Levitation Charm and the Summoning Charm.

Without even consulting any materials, simply lay out the origins and evolution of the two types of magic, then extract a few paragraphs from Hermione's notebook analyzing the principles of the spells, and finally fabricate a conclusion—and a standard paper is complete.

"Unfortunately, Professor Granger has other requirements..." Loren muttered, glancing to the side.

Hermione, wearing a summer silk nightgown, sat on the sofa with a tense expression, flipping through a paper. The lamp on the small wooden cabinet cast a soft light, illuminating the slightly yellowed parchment in her hands and the densely packed, hastily written letters on it:

"Before the Hogwarts Express, Portkey were a way to send students to the magic school without attracting the attention of Muggle... Every year, a third of the students would be late because they couldn't find their Portkey or missed their transfer time. In addition, many students would experience Portkey dizziness, with the main symptoms being nausea and hysteria..."

"Compared to mainstream teleportation methods, Floo Network is not without its flaws. Due to the ashes, heat, and tension, clearly stating the destination while in the hearth often leads to errors. Although serious accidents are rare, they are not nonexistent... One day in 1855, the Witch Violet Diliman, after arguing with her husband, jumped into the fireplace, choking back tears and hiccups as she uttered her mother's address, disappearing into the fire. She was searched for in vain until she reappeared twenty years later..."

Hermione flipped through the pages, but there was no further information Witch Violet Diliman. She couldn't help but look up and ask in confusion, "What happened next? Where did she go for the past twenty years?"

Loren glanced at her nightgown and felt his throat tighten. "She said the wrong place. She appeared at the home of a handsome and wealthy wizard in Bury St Edmunds, and the two fell in love at first sight, lived together, had seven children, and lived happily ever after."

"..."

Hermione's beautiful eyebrows furrowed slightly, a hint of disdain in her expression. "Twenty years without a trace, without returning to separate from her ex-husband, without telling her worried mother, this..."

"So I didn't write it down..."

"Ring ring! Ring ring!"

Loren's voice was interrupted by the sudden ringing of the telephone. Hermione glanced at the old-fashioned telephone vibrating not far away, and the receiver was lifted by an invisible hand and placed in the hand of the person next to her.

"Hello? This is Loren Morgan..."

Hermione lowered her eyes and continued reading the latter part of the paper, "A comparison between the Apparition of human wizards and the Teleportation magic of House-elf. Teleportation, a common method of travel for wizards, usually requires the use of a wand to cast. Only a very few more skilled wizards can break free from the wand's limitations. In addition, the teleportation process puts a certain amount of stress on the wizard's body..."

"Harry, what's the matter so late?"

Hermione's gaze paused, and her ears slowly perked up.

"Yes, go ahead, I'm listening..."

"And then..."

"Huh? Ah!?"

Hermione:...

This person definitely did it on purpose.

Hermione rolled her eyes silently, put the paper in her hand aside, got up and sat down next to him, putting her ear close to his.

Loren listened lazily as Harry recounted his encounter with the Dementor. Just as he heard that Mrs. Figg and Mundungus had been arranged by Dumbledore to protect him on Privet Drive, he suddenly felt the scent of shower gel approaching, followed by a warm, soft cheek pressed against the back of his hand holding the microphone, smooth and tender.

Harry's voice went into his right ear and out the left.

"Luckily you removed my Trace beforehand, otherwise we'd be in trouble now! That Mundungus seems very unreliable, like a dark wizard from Knockturn Alley, even dealing in stolen cauldrons. Could he really be some kind of criminal? Why would Dumbledore arrange for someone like that?"

"Mrs. Figg is unwilling to reveal anything, just like Ron and the others..."

"You'd never guess, Aunt Petunia actually knows about the Dementor. She even exchanges letters with Dumbledore... They've always known about Voldemort, and now they know Voldemort's back."

Harry's voice paused for a moment on the receiver. "Uncle Vernon wanted to get rid of me, but Aunt Petunia received a Howler and heard a voice in it say something incoherent, so she let me stay..."