Why Does It Sound Like I'm a Death Eater?

"I don't think those two Dementor were sent by Voldemort. If he had already found out my address, he would have already led a large group of Death Eater into the Dursley house... But who else would want to deal with me besides him? Who else could it be?"

"I'm so frustrated, Loren, you know? I feel like a slug struggling in a hot cauldron. I'd rather be crushed into mincemeat right now than stay here here in this daze, not knowing anything."

Harry groaned in pain, "Mr. Weasley wrote to me telling me not to leave the Dursley house, and Sirius Black told me I absolutely couldn't leave this house, oh..."

"I think that's what Dumbledore meant too," Hermione said softly.

"I know, I know..." Harry's words quickened, his anxiety seemingly transmitted through the telephone line, "But what's the point of hiding here? I really don't understand, do they think that if Voldemort finds this place, this house and the Dursley can stop those Death Eater? They don't even have magic."

"Don't say that name," Loren cautioned.

"What?"

"That person cast a spell on their name, and has some kind of connection with those who recite it."

"Is...is that so?" Harry's voice choked, as if a block of ice had been pulled from the bottom of the refrigerator and was stuck in his throat, chilling him to the bone.

Hermione was also surprised; she hadn't expected such magic.

After a long silence, Harry gradually regained his composure. He took a deep breath, calmed himself, and spoke in a slightly hoarse voice from his dry throat, "I'm sorry, Loren, I lost control. This feeling is driving me crazy. Even though I'm at the very center of the storm, I can't see my surroundings at all..."

Hermione pressed her ear to the receiver, listening to the boy's bitter apology as his voice changed, and pursed her lips without saying a word.

"Dumbledore's request for everyone to keep your secret... was also for your protection..." Loren said slowly. "After all, you could be colluding with... cough, I mean, you have a strange connection with the Dark Lord, and you've always tried to use that connection to spy on the other side. We've discussed the drawbacks of that idea before. Now that he has regained his powerful Magic Power, he could use that connection against you at any time... You don't want to personally inform on him to the Dark Lord, do you?"

"..."

Harry listened to the half-joking, half-comforting words on the other end of the receiver and felt a throbbing pain in his forehead scar. What did it mean to collude with the Man of the Dark Lord? What did it mean to personally inform on the Dark Lord? He sounded like some kind of veteran Death Eater.

"I will definitely master Occlumency as soon as possible!"

"I wish you all the best."

Loren wasn't very optimistic about him, after all, he'd been put into practice two years in advance, and yet he hadn't achieved much. From a certain perspective, Occlumency was simply unsuitable for wizards with strong emotions; it was a matter of compatibility, not talent or effort.

Is there any other way to cut off contact...?

Loren stared at the chandelier on the ceiling, lost in thought.

Hermione picked up the phone casually. "Harry, what are you planning to do next?"

"What else can we do but stay at the Dursley house?" Harry said dejectedly.

After hesitating for a few seconds, Hermione decided to voice her speculation. "I think... once your birthday is over, Harry, you should be able to leave the Dursley house."

"But they said..."

"That's to continue the protective magic left by your mother through your bloodline. You need to stay there for a month every year. After that, Dumbledore will definitely take you to a safer place to protect you."

"Very good!"

After listening to the excited chatter on the other end of the line before hanging up, Hermione put down the phone and leaned wearily into Loren's arms. "Harry was right," she said, "The Dark Lord weren't sent by Dementor... Vagrant, but by the Ministry of Magic. They're the only ones who can command Dementor now, and I'm pretty sure it was Cornelius Fudge or Dolores Umbridge who did it..."

At this point, Hermione angrily slammed her fist on the sofa. "Can't they see anything but power? I'd believe it if they were under the Imperius Curse, but they aren't!"

Loren read slowly, "Perhaps they believed it, or at least hesitated for a few seconds, but they didn't care."

"The Ministry of Magic should really get rid of them; the current system is so flawed!"

"Let's talk about it when you become Minister for Magic..."

"I'm not joking with you!"

"Me neither..."

Despite their playful banter, the two remained relatively calm. In any case, Fudge and Umbridge at least dared not openly plot against Harry. In fact, if they were really put on the dueling platform with Harry, it was uncertain who would emerge victorious... Nor did the two have a legitimate reason to use the Ministry of Magic's Aurors to apprehend Harry; they could only secretly command Dementor, these non-human creatures that could not speak.

Loren and Hermione discussed it for a while and finally decided to write a letter to Dumbledore.

The fourth Friday of July, the day before the regular staff of the Ministry of Magic take their day off.

Before leaving work, the three people in the Minister's Office huddled together to check the documents.

Bertha Jokins stood by the desk, her eyes glazed over, but her ears were secretly perked up as she eavesdropped intently on the conversation between Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge and Minister Cornelius Fudge. Because of the several embarrassing incidents she had caused a few days ago, the two ministers completely believed that she was a brainless idiot and were ready to settle for her as a menial errand girl in the office.

But only she knew that those things weren't caused by her forgetfulness; rather, she had been recalling some employees' secrets and lost her composure, which led to the embarrassing incident.

After signing the routine weekend documents, Fudge put down his quill and looked at the smiling Senior Undersecretary across from him:

"Dolores".

Umbridge stopped writing and looked up at him.

Fudge looked at her intently, paused for a moment, and then said, "The Azkaban sent us the work documents from July. They said you personally went to the prison and took away two Dementor. These two Dementor showed signs of fighting after returning to the island."

Umbridge's smile faded, and she glanced at the dazed Jokins beside her. In a affected, coquettish voice, she said, "Yes, after I left that day, I did go to Azkaban to give orders to those two filthy things."

Fudge couldn't help but ask, "Didn't I reject that proposal? Why are you disobeying my orders? Aren't you afraid of ruining our reputations? Don't forget Crouch's lesson!"

"Dear Minister..." Umbridge replied obsequiously, "I only wanted to solve that problem for you completely. I admit I made a mistake of being presumptuous, but this also just proves Dumbledore's insidious scheme."

"What's the meaning?"

"The two Dementor escaped back to Azkaban injured, but the Trace left by Hogwarts were not touched, and we have not received any lawsuits against Harry Potter for violating the 'Reasonable Restraint of Underage Wizards Act,' which means that another wizard saved him."

"Dumbledore?"

"It wasn't him." Umbridge shook her head. "Don't you understand? Dumbledore assigned wizards we don't know to hide around Potter, to his faction, to a faction we don't know about."

Fudge looked furious.

"He's been using Hogwarts to build his power. He wants to seize your power, and even... even overthrow the Ministry of Ministry of Magic! Luckily, I discovered this in time, so we can do this..."

Jokins glanced at the minister, who was being completely fooled, and fell into deep thought.

Hampstead Garden.

The last day of July.

Dumbledore's reply finally arrived.

After a few days apart, the Spectacled Owl Hānhan visibly become much rounder, yet it could still land lightly on the windowsill. Its feathers were glossy and smooth, and it held a thick letter in its beak, the envelope bearing the familiar Hogwarts symbol.

Loren took the envelope, glanced at it, and then, with a sudden thought, opened it with his fingers. Inside were two parchments, one addressed to Hermione and the other to him.

Put away the letter he wrote to Hermione, and unfold his own letter:

"Dear Loren:

I know you may be eagerly awaiting my reply, but I'm afraid I can't send the letter out immediately— the Ministry of Magic has some surveillance on Hogwarts, and Fudge and Umbridge have persuaded the Board of Governors, or rather, the Death Eater on the Board of Governors are cooperating with them. There are also Death Eater among the Ministry of Magic's surveillance staff.

Fortunately, we were prepared. Your kindness has given us another friend in the Ministry of Magic.

Minerva rejected many of the arguments, but to avoid wasting the strength of those on the same side before the real war began, I persuaded Minerva to make some concessions, and the letter was sent in the form of a mailed admission notice for new students.

I learned about Harry's encounter with the Dementor. Your foresight saved us from a lot of unnecessary trouble. You know what I mean, Trace avoided a troublesome trial...

Now, there's one more thing I need your help with. We'll discuss the details when we meet.

Finally, happy birthday in advance!

P. S.: Please come to the Dursley house next Thursday afternoon. Alastor will escort Harry to a safe place. Come with him. Your birthday present will be given later.

Loren only remembered it was Harry's birthday when he saw the last sentence, so he grabbed the owl on the windowsill and went inside.

"Goo?" The Hānhan tilted his head.

"Look at you, you've gained so much weight in just a few days. Perfect timing to bring a candy gift bag to Privet Drive to give you birthday wishes."

"Coo!" The little guy's eyes widened, as if blaming someone for mistreating an owl, and for having to go out to work again as soon as he got back.

"Okay, Little Whinging is very close. At your speed, you can fly there in an hour."

"Coo coo!"

"It's not far at all, it's always been this distance. Sometimes I need to look at myself and see if I've been exercising or controlling my diet all these years..."

Loren chattered on and on as he sent the Hānhan off with a candy gift bag to Privet Drive to offer his blessings, while he himself delivered Hermione's letter to the neighbor next door.

That evening, several parents learned that they were about to leave, and they started to nag and worry, saying that they could continue attending magic school in the future, and that if it was too dangerous, they could stay at home, attend a regular middle school, take the college entrance exam, and then return to the Wizarding World in the future.

"At worst, I can just take a few years off from school..."

The Mr. and Mrs. Granger kept nagging from the start of dinner until they finished dessert, but Grandpa Bates eventually persuaded them to help them pack their luggage. Then he watched as the two of them put a bunch of things into a pendant.

For the next two days, Monica kept the two of them busy buying clothes for the new year, Wendell and Grandpa Bates became their driver and free laborers, carrying large and small bags and following behind the three of them every day.

It wasn't until August 6th that the five of them had some free time and found a restaurant to celebrate Loren's birthday.

The Victorian-style restaurant looked nice, but the food wasn't good.

After dinner, Monica picked up the candles and placed them one by one on the cake, carefully avoiding the fruit and chocolates. She turned to her and asked, "Loren, Hermione, you're not going back to school on August 10th, but going to your principal's house first to help out with some work, right?"

Hermione handed her a candle. "It shouldn't be the headmaster's house, and we're not sure if it's the school either. The letter only mentioned a safe place."

"Are you going home before school starts?"

"I guess he won't be going back. He might come back during the Christmas holidays."

"They said the same thing the past two years, but in the end, they never really came back."

"Isn't this an unexpected situation?" Loren took a spoon, quietly reached over to scrape the cream and honey off the side of the cake, pulled it back, took a sip, and squinted his eyes in satisfaction.

Just as he was about to take another spoonful, Bates glanced at him and slapped his hand on the back.

Loren immediately turned his head and retorted defiantly, "Can't I even eat my birthday cake?!"

"Not now," Bates said calmly.

"..."

Loren ignored him and sat down next to Hermione, playing with the restaurant's special low-temperature fruit-scented candles together. "They smell sweet, are they edible?"

"Can't."

Hermione handed Monica a candle, glanced at his expression, and knew that today's food was not to his liking. She then took a piece of chocolate from her pocket and handed it to him. Seeing that he was playing with the candle in both hands, she paused for a moment, tore open the wrapper, and fed it to him.

"Hmm..."

Handmade chocolates are less sweet, but have a rich cocoa flavor.

Loren recklessly brushed against the girl's finger, then nimbly dodged and slapped her, a move smoother than chocolate.

Bates watched from the side, his eyes twitching.

Even if the kid was his own, he still couldn't bear to look, especially since the girl's parents were setting out birthday candles for him. He wouldn't even have the face to stop them if they got caught and beaten up.

Realizing what had happened, she quickly pulled the brat to a corner and whispered with a pained expression, "What were you doing just now? I wanted to punch you when I saw it. I've told you so many times, stop teasing Hermione!"

Loren felt a moment of shame.