Harry sat at the Potter residence until evening.

Euphemia returns.

Grandpa and grandma talked about many things that they didn’t talk about last year.

Friends who wanted to mention but didn’t dare to.

Peter, who died heroically, who looked too cowardly to be a Gryffindor, became a true Gryffindor in his last moments.

And then there was Lupin, that poor little fellow, a werewolf, who had lived a miserable life all his life.

Euphemia had suggested to him more than once that he should be allowed to live in the old Potter house, which was at least a home and he wouldn't have to travel around any more.

But he didn't agree.

That was a werewolf with great self-respect.

It was not until Flitwick, who was drunk in the bar, became worried and came over that they left together under the moonlight.

The days that followed became just like the summer vacation of the first year of school.

It’s just that the actual combat training is changed to once a week.

Flitwick finally couldn't help but speak and complained to Harry that his old body couldn't take it any longer.

Only a week into the second month.

The owl was on time, dropping the Daily Prophet and sticking its legs out to rest on Harry's shoulders.

Flitwick waved his wand, and five Knuts fell into the owl's small pocket. It picked up the bread that Harry handed over with satisfaction, flapped its wings and flew away.

Harry reached out and was about to pick up the newspaper.

With a snap——

Flitwick clapped it hard and pressed it under his palm: "Harry, I feel in good spirits today. How about we go to practical training now?"

"Professor, your acting is much worse than Lockhart's." Harry said expressionlessly, "Is there anything in the newspaper that you think I can't read?"

Flitwick turned his head away, feeling guilty.

"Because of my eyes, they started calling me a freak?" Harry tried to guess. "If that's the case, don't worry. I'm not that fragile."

Flitwick did not loosen his grip, but pressed tighter.

"You're not scolding me?" Harry was a little surprised, "Then why are you so nervous?"

He waved his wand.

The table began to twist and sink, and the plate turned into a small hand, dragging the newspaper to him.

Flitwick pulled out his wand and almost fired a "Thunder Explosion".

The first edition content caught my eye.

A huge photo of a man with a haggard face and long, messy hair, and the shocking title: "Still on the run, escaped from Azkaban, the most dangerous criminal in history!"

Flitwick lowered his head.

Harry paused for a moment, his heart beating rapidly, but his tone was unusually calm: "He actually escaped from prison?"

"He's dangerous." Flitwick waved his wand and restored the table. "Don't you..."

"Professor, you know my level." Harry put down the newspaper. The report was full of Fudge's boasting and did not contain any useful information.

Where is Sirius?

How did he escape?

None of this was said.

There is no need to read on.

Flitwick opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. Yes, he was very clear about Harry's level. He was now considered an excellent wizard.

He is capable enough to avenge his parents.

"Well, let me see." Harry played with his wand. "Why did he escape?"

He paused and looked at Flitwick: "Professor, do the prisoners in Azkaban have access to information from the outside world?"

"Perhaps some of the jailers will bring them outdated copies of the Daily Prophet," Flitwick replied. "Azkaban doesn't have many restrictions in this regard. After all, the prisoners there will basically go crazy within half a year."

"And Sirius was locked up in there for nearly twelve years."

Newspaper?

Harry searched his memory.

He soon found out what he thought was the reason why Sirius might have escaped from Azkaban.

In an issue of the Daily Prophet before the holiday, it was reported that Hogwarts was attacked by dark wizards and that the Malfoy family might provide some dark magic items.

Is it because of this report?

As Voldemort's lackey, he is likely to know that the Malfoys have a Horcrux, and he is also likely to have determined that Hogwarts is haunted by Horcruxes.

When you see your master starting to make trouble, you can't wait to escape to show your loyalty?

So where to find Sirius?

An answer came to his mind.

The Malfoys.

"Professor, I'm going to be out for a while." Harry stood up.

Flitwick waved his wand and opened the door. "If you're looking for Black, I'll come with you."

"I'm going to Ragnak's workshop," Harry replied, "to see if my sword is ready."

Flitwick sat down again, but he was still a little worried: "If you decide to look for Black, don't act on your own. You can trust the professor."

"You know me." Harry nodded and walked out.

Flitwick hesitated.

It's because I know this that I'm worried.

In the workshop.

Hawke was still picky about Regnarc, keeping a close eye on every step he took, fearing that he would embezzle the materials if he wasn't careful.

There was a noise at the door.

Hawke glanced over and immediately greeted him warmly: "Mr. Potter, how come you have time to come here today? Are you worried about Ragnak?"

"I'll keep an eye on him for you."

As the most famous little wizard in the wizarding world, he is also the most valuable customer of Ragnak's Workshop.

Hawke was enthusiastic about him.

"I want to ask, how is the making of my equipment going?" Harry asked.

Hawke became anxious for him: "Mr. Potter, yes, you need these things now. I have urged him."

"The bone sword has just been made."

"The armor will take some time, but it will be in your hands before school starts."

Harry waved his hand: "Where's the sword?"

Hawke snapped his fingers, and a wooden box in the workshop floated up and landed in Harry's hand.

Snap your fingers again.

The wooden box opened, revealing the sword inside.

The bone sword was white and had a blood groove on it.

"This sword is enchanted with dustproof spell, solid spell, and sharpness spell." Hawke introduced, "It also solidifies the effect of snake venom. This is a poisonous sword."

"It's just that the material is limited. It can't absorb magic like the sword of Gryffindor."

Harry picked it up and turned it twice.

The feel is excellent.

"How do you feel?" Hawke asked eagerly, "If there is anything that does not work well, you can change it."

Ragnak snorted.

"Excellent workmanship." Harry tapped his wand on the box, turning it into a scabbard, tied it to himself, and inserted the sword into it. "I am very satisfied."

Ragnak snorted proudly.

He is the one with the best skills among the existing goblins. Guys like Hawke, who would rather be a human's lackey, don't understand how good his skills are.