HP Magic Biography

In fact, Harry had been staying at home since the last time he saw Van Lin and Hermione.

However, this was not a pleasant experience for him. That strange and damned dream haunted him like a nightmare, which made his mental state very bad.

...

Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard, as if he were running. A very vivid dream awakened him, and he covered his face with his hands. The old thunderbolt-shaped scar on his forehead burned under his fingers, as if someone had pressed a red-hot wire to his skin.

He sat up, pressing the scar with one hand, and with the other in the dark, grabbed the glasses, which were on the table by the bed. He put on his glasses, and the bedroom could be seen more clearly, because the faint orange light, like fog, shone in the room through the curtains.

This was the smallest bedroom in the Dursleys' house. It used to be Dudley's storage room, but now it belonged to him.

After going to Hogwarts, the Dursleys' dislike of him became more straightforward, but it is undeniable that his life has changed a lot because of this.

They fear magic, unknown powers.

Harry touched the scar with his fingers, but it was still hurting. He turned on the light beside him, got up from the bed, walked to the other side of the room, opened the wardrobe, and looked in the mirror inside the door: a thin fourteen The 12-year-old boy looked at him, his black hair was disheveled, and his pair of bright green eyes showed a puzzled expression. He moved closer to a mirror to examine the thunderbolt scar. It looks normal, but still has a fiery feel to it.

Harry tried his best to remember the dream before he woke up, it all seemed so real,... There were two people, but he didn't know these two people, he didn't understand why this image only appeared in his mind .

He tried desperately to concentrate all his energy, he wanted to remember something...

The dim picture of the dark room came to him. It was a very old house, like a noble manor, but it looked like it hadn't been repaired for a long time.

The wooden floors of the house were worn out, reminding him of the Shrieking Shack, but it wasn't that messy.

After a while, as the picture progressed, a snake crawled along the stairs, with black and green patterns mixed. The snake was very big, just like the Brazilian boa constrictor he released from the zoo.

This looks very aggressive.

The snake crawled slowly,

Bypassing the door panel, the light in the room is not bright, even very cold.

Through the crack in the door, Harry saw a man kneeling in front of a sofa seat.

The man was wearing a black leather jacket, with blue and stubble on his face, it looked like he hadn't cleaned it for a long time, at least his face was not that good-looking.

My master, your most faithful servant...

Owner? servant?

This kind of vocabulary is still used only among the nobles. Of course, the house elves also call it this way. Fan Lin has given up on correcting Dobby.

That neurotic little elf.

There is also a man in a cloak in the room. His face is very pale, like the kind that cannot see the sun all day long, but his eyes are indeed dark red and look a little cloudy.

Such pupils Harry had never seen before.

The man stood aside very respectfully, but this gave Fan Lin a very dangerous feeling.

But then, what made Harry feel even worse was that he actually heard Voldemort's voice.

It was as if he had swallowed a large piece of ice, Harry swore that he had never felt so cold even after being hit by Van Lin's spell.

You've done well, my servant. Voldemort's voice was very hoarse, but with a certain speed.

With the help of Trevor, I already have a short body, but as you can see, I am still very weak.

Trevor? Is this the name of the man who didn't speak?

But what Harry was more concerned about was that Voldemort actually had his own body. This is not good news. Voldemort was resurrected?

Harry wanted to continue listening, but the couch the snake had climbed onto.

The slightest snake language sounded, and before Harry could think, Voldemort spoke.

Nagini told me that the Muggle caretaker of the house was just outside the door listening.

Immediately afterwards, Trevor stood at the door at once, and his movements were very fast.

Let me welcome our guest myself, Trevor, said Voldemort, turning his chair toward the door.

Harry closed his eyes tightly, and he tried to imagine what Voldemort looked like, but it was impossible, all Harry could remember was the horror he felt when Voldemort's chair was turned, and the convulsions woke his brain... ..., maybe the pain from the scar woke him up?

Who is that old man? Because there must be such an old man. Harry saw him fall to the ground. It all became blurred, and Harry, covering his face with his hands, used his house as a frame, trying to capture the image of the dark room, but doing so was like scooping water with synthetic cup-shaped hands, when When he tried to remember the details, they slipped away... Voldemort and two of his followers were talking about someone they had killed, whose name they couldn't remember...and they were planning to kill again someone...he...

Harry removed his hands, opened his eyes, and looked around the room as if expecting to see something out of the ordinary. Yes, there are really many unusual things in his room.

A large chest at the foot of the bed was open to reveal a large boiler, a broom, black twigs, and spelling books of various kinds. Rolls of parchment were strewn across his desk, out of the large, empty cage where his snow-white owl roosted. There was a book on the floor beside the bed, it was open, and he had read it last night before falling asleep. The pictures in the book are all moving. Men in bright orange robes gallop on broomsticks, alternately visible and invisible, throwing a red ball at each other.

Harry walked towards the book, picked it up, and saw a wizard scoring a strike by throwing it over a fifty-foot ring. He slammed the book shut. It seemed to Harry that even the best moves in the Quidditch World Cup didn't appeal to him at the moment.

He put Flying with a Cannon on the table next to the bed, went to the window, drew the curtains, and looked down at the street.

It was a bad night, at least for Harry.