Chapter 606 Harry's New Neighbor

"Look at his name!" Uncle Vernon snorted, "Tom? His parents didn't mean it. I bet there are a million people with that name in the whole of Britain. Toms are everywhere, your colleagues in meetings, people doing promotions, people playing football, and homeless people..." He

muttered to himself, as if to cover up the increasingly bland food.

This helped Harry, because he had just dropped his fork due to a trembling hand, leaving a stain on the clean tablecloth, and Aunt Petunia was distracted before she could give him a disgusted look. Harry quickly picked up the fork and made up his mind to leave immediately after finishing his meal.

The news anchor dutifully announced-

"...The original hotline will be closed..." Uncle Vernon began to express his opinions fiercely again, "Where is the photo? What does he look like? And the reward!" He roared, as if he was annoyed at missing out on an extra income.

"He's been caught." Harry pointed out dryly.

I thought that if he knew the meaning of this name, he would not have such an attitude. No, he didn't even need to be told that this name once belonged to Voldemort. Just letting him know that this was a dark wizard without any moral concepts, the leader of a criminal gang, was enough to scare the cowardly Uncle Vernon.

"You don't need to remind me!" Uncle Vernon yelled at Harry. . .

"There is no hotline." Aunt Petunia suddenly said, as always, she was sensitive enough to secrets and gossip.

"What?" Uncle Vernon asked in astonishment.

"There is no hotline, I haven't seen it... It's not mentioned on TV, and," Aunt Petunia frowned, "I haven't heard of this name either."

Harry completely understood what she meant. She would not easily let go of any topic of conversation, and the murderer was a very exciting topic. If she could take the opportunity to comment on the current public security, she would immediately make a big splash at the neighborhood afternoon tea.

Harry looked at the announcer. He had a different understanding of this. Perhaps this was a secret code from the wizards, telling fellow wizards hiding in the Muggle community that the war was over... He praised the person who gave the idea in his heart, because the name "Voldemort" should not appear in Muggle TV programs. It would be much safer to change it to "Tom Riddle". With Rita Skeeter's continuous reports, the name Voldemort used when he was young was no longer a secret.

He was thinking about his own thoughts. At some point, the table became quiet. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia stared at him.

Harry was confused and didn't know how he had offended them again, but the TV news gave him the answer -

"...Some ornithologists speculate that the abnormal behavior of owls may be related to changes in the earth's magnetic field. It is reported that this is not the first time such a situation has occurred. As early as fifteen years ago..."

Aunt Petunia took a breath of cold air, Uncle Vernon's eyes bulged hard, and the fork in his hand was bent.

"I'm done." Harry said quickly, he put down the cutlery and sat up from the chair.

"Don't even think about leaving. We need an explanation, boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted.

"Nothing--"

"Yes!" Dudley suddenly interrupted, staring at Harry with a pair of small eyes inherited from his father. "I heard it all," he pointed at Harry with his fat hand, and Harry had to look carefully to find the fork in his hand.

"--In his room, there are always flapping wings and birds singing at night."

"That's an owl!"

"Sure enough, it's you who did it--"

Harry was secretly angry. "Well," he tried to calm himself down, "something big did happen in the wizarding world, Voldemort fell," he pointed at the TV, "The man just said that was him, Tom Riddle, this is his name when he was in school." Before

they could react, Harry ran upstairs in two steps.

Maybe I should tell them, Harry thought as he pushed open the door, but he was too busy these days and had no time to think about it. Besides, what would it matter if he really told them? Would they really feel happy?

The bedroom was a mess, with many things scattered around, and there was not even a place to step.

If Aunt Petunia saw this scene, she would definitely scream, but she hadn't been here for a long time, and she would try not to call Harry's name unless necessary. So Harry felt at ease messing up the room. He glanced out the window. Sirius came back very late these days.

Of course, his godfather was happily catching the escaped dark wizards with his old partner, so how could he have time to care about him? Harry thought gloomily, wondering when Sirius would realize that he was an eyesore between Remus and Tonks...

Hedwig pecked at the cage in the cage. Harry bent down and opened the cage door. After Hedwig came out, she spread her wings and flew into the dark night like a ghost through the window. He moved the cage and picked up the small box on the ground.

Inside were some unfolded letters, pressed together and placed in chronological order. The top one was sent by Hermione yesterday.

Harry sat in the chair and started reading from the middle. He was already very familiar with the content.

"…Our family went to Norway. The weather there is hot most of the time. The salmon here is especially delicious. I dare not go into the water because the waves are a bit big. I am worried that I will not be able to resist using magic. If you travel here, be sure to bring toiletries and a thick coat. If it rains, the weather will still be a bit cold…"

"A letter from your friend?"

Harry raised his head suddenly and saw Dudley's fat body blocking the door. He seemed to be pointing his chin at the letter in Harry's hand, but in addition to making his three-layer fat chin more obvious, it also blocked his eyes, which were not big to begin with.

"It has nothing to do with you."

Harry said angrily. He strode over the owl cage, the pile of books, the Hogwarts school robes, and the old clothes, and walked forward to close the door. A strange feeling flashed through his heart. Dudley used to avoid this place just like his parents.

But Dudley blocked the door with one hand, and Harry's hand did not move on the doorknob. He realized that his cousin had practiced boxing, and his broad body was not all fat - but it might take Dudley a lifetime to make the muscles wrapped inside show.

Harry stared, and in his heart he restrained the idea of ​​threatening him with magic. But if Dudley suddenly had a brain problem and wanted to find his hobbies in elementary school, Harry would not have the advantage in terms of physique.

At this time, Dudley bent down - his left hand was still firmly on the door, but the action of bending down was more physically demanding - he picked up a stack of parchment from the ground, "Secret of the Patronus - by Harry Potter, you plan to write a book? Like Gilderoy Lockhart?"

"Give it back to me!" Harry said angrily, "I'm not the same as that liar! Wait - how do you know -"

He stared at Dudley, his face full of shock.

He didn't know when Dudley had intervened in his life in another world. It felt like someone who had been with him day and night for more than ten years, such as the Dursleys and Mrs. Figg, suddenly confessed to him that they were wizards...

This was ridiculous. There must be a reason, and it was probably because of him. A flash of inspiration came to Harry, and he suddenly remembered something. He strode to the closet, knocking over several quills and ink bottles on the way, but Harry didn't pay any attention to it. He opened the closet and threw the dirty clothes aside. His hand reached into a slightly deep drawer with a missing baffle - it was empty.

"You took my book?" Harry gritted his teeth and turned around, feeling angry that his privacy was being pried into, and the long-suppressed emotions burst out. He thought unpleasantly of his childhood: he didn't have a decent toy in his hands, all of which were left by Dudley. And he had to stay away from Dudley. If he saw it, there would be only two results. Either he would cry to Aunt Petunia and ask for the toy back, or he would rather throw it away; or he would simply snatch it from Harry's hand and crush it.

The only consolation was that Dudley had never been in the cupboard where he lived in his past, because he couldn't squeeze in when he was six years old, so Harry had to hoard a few broken toys like a house elf.

When Harry reacted, the wand had appeared in his hand like lightning, against Dudley's neck. The tip of the wand flashed a threatening red light. Dudley's face was full of fear, his neck kept tilting back, and his fat toes were on tiptoe, like a bad ballet dancer.

"Don't - you can't - use magic - outside of school -"

"I don't care!" Harry squeezed out a few words from his teeth, "I don't care, do you understand?" He seriously considered whether to cast a curse on Dudley. He saw a spell in the Half-Blood Prince's textbook that could make toes grow rapidly, but then Harry thought of Snape, and his mood became worse.

"You would never dare to come here normally. I should have thought of it earlier...something is wrong with you this summer." Harry took a breath, "That's right, you stole my book, Lockhart... and that comic book... You think you know magic, don't you? Tell me, what do you want to do this time?"

Dudley seemed to be unable to breathe, his face flushed, his hand tried to push the wand away, but the wand was restlessly emitting several sparks, and he was so scared that he didn't dare to move at all.

Harry calmed down a little.

He took two steps back and pulled the wand out of Dudley's second chin, pointing the tip of the wand to the ground. His first reaction was that it was bad, Dudley would complain, but then he thought, this seems to be a good idea. Harry stared at the messy room. He could just pack his bags and move to the house rented by Sirius overnight.

Now that Voldemort has been caught, Harry doesn't think he will be in danger, so it seems that there is no loss if the protection magic fails? As soon as this idea appeared, it took root in Harry's mind and quickly grew into a towering tree.

Dudley finally reacted.

He slowly put his hand into his trouser pocket and took out a few bills. Harry stared, and for a moment he thought he had discovered Dudley's real purpose - to come and show off how much pocket money he has. But Harry soon thought of something. He looked at Dudley who was trying to speak, and a strange feeling came over him.

"I - buy - money -"

"You want to pay for something? From me? Buy what?"

Dudley opened his mouth, his face flushed, and he seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

"Zi-zi-zi"

"Zi-zi Honeybee?"

"And, and Hu-"

"Pepper Boy?"

"Dudley-da-da-the TV show is on-it's your favorite-"

Aunt Petunia's shout in the living room broke the silence between the two. Dudley retreated quickly, just as if Harry was chasing him and chanting a curse. He stood at the door and shouted downstairs with a frightened face: "Got it-I'll be down right away."

Then he turned his head, as if he had drawn enough courage from his mother again, and stared at Harry's forehead for a while.

"Is what the comic book says true? It mentions you, the famous Potter?"

"Yes, the famous Potter." Harry repeated dryly.

Dudley disappeared from sight. The stairs groaned under the weight. Harry was stunned for a few seconds, walked up and slammed the door. He locked the door worriedly, sat back in his chair, and stared at the messy house in a daze.

He remembered that Dudley had not returned the book yet, and of course he didn't leave any money, so was he just pretending? Harry thought a little harshly, he is a good businessman and may inherit his father's position.

He imagined what Dudley looked like in middle age. He was a replica of Uncle Vernon, only bigger and with thicker fingers. He heard that Dudley was playing baseball, but Harry had no expectations of his achievements. This was contrary to Aunt Petunia's point of view. One of them must be wrong.

Harry stood up and picked up the parchment from the ground. The overturned ink bottle made the first few pages of the parchment dirty, but Harry was not too worried. He had almost memorized the contents on it. This was his own book, which might be published in the future. Harry seemed extremely patient and could be said to be very careful with every word.

Speaking of which, Harry had never considered the issue of publication.

Maybe he should ask Professor Hepp? But he rejected this idea. He didn't want to contact Professor Happ or Headmaster Dumbledore. He heard the complete prophecy from Sirius and knew his fate: one must die at the hands of the other, because the two could not live together. Only one survived...

At a certain moment, Harry's heart ignited a strong hope. If one could survive, it should be him, right? Because Voldemort had been caught. Obviously Sirius thought so, so when Harry asked, he told Harry readily.

But Harry knew more. He was a Horcrux, a part of Voldemort's life. Sirius

didn't know about the Horcruxes. He was excluded from the truth. This was something Harry had confirmed repeatedly. He found a sense of sympathy in Sirius, and at the same time, he had a slight shaken feeling about his own fate. Or was Headmaster Dumbledore also trying to find a way to make himself survive?

Harry didn't dare to ask this question. He was ready to die and didn't want to be hit a second time. He could only wait. If they - Professor Happ or Headmaster Dumbledore - worked out a way, they would definitely tell him.

Flutter.

An owl flew in from the window. Harry thought it was Hedwig, but it was another tawny owl. It turned around the room in disgust, and barely found a place to stand on the windowsill, raising its right leg.

Harry walked over and took down the big square envelope.

When he saw the Ministry of Magic logo and the mark of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, he was stunned.

He had completely forgotten about the OWLs exam results.

At the same time, several things happened almost at the same time -

Felix said goodbye to his friend's house in the orphanage; Dumbledore, who had been busy all day, received news in a foreign country: Gellert Grindelwald mysteriously disappeared and was suspected of escaping prison; and an uninvited guest broke into Privet Drive and rented a house nearby.

"Old sir, are you planning to stay for a long time?"

"Unfortunately, I have other schedules. I will stay here for about a month. After that, I will meet a few people, some old friends, and some pen pals I have never met... Speaking of which, my pen pal is witty and original. Most of the purpose of my trip is to talk to him in person..."

In view of the high rent, the landlord did not raise any objections.

"By the way... The Dursleys live nearby?"

"Yes, are you related to them?" The landlord asked curiously, "I have never heard them mention it."

"No." Grindelwald said softly. He is in a much better state now. His cheeks are still thin, but at least he is not skin and bones. He is wearing exquisite and sophisticated clothes and looks like an old-fashioned gentleman.

He gave a proper smile and said, "I just often heard the pen pal mention the name of this child - he is a school teacher, and to be honest, my ears are almost callused."

"You mean Dudley Dursley?"

"The other one," Grindelwald said lightly, "seems to be called Harry Potter."