HP Magic Biography

After Hedwig flew out from the narrow window, Harry seemed to relax.

Fan Lin will give him some advice, and he believes that his friends will not let him down.

At least, this night without that damned dream.

Soon, it was time for the Dursleys to have breakfast.

When Harry reached the kitchen, the three of them were already sitting around the table. He walked over and sat down silently, and no one raised his head during the whole process. Uncle's blushing face was obscured by the morning paper, and my aunt was quartering a grapefruit, her teeth like horse teeth, her lips pursed.

Dudley looked furious, angry, more than usual. He always occupies one entire side of this square table. When his aunt put a quarter of the not-so-sweet grapes on his plate, he gave her an angry look, and the aunt said to her, Your, eat, dear! After the report came back, his life became very unhappy.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia made excuses for their son's low grades as usual, Aunt said Dudley was a very talented kid, but the teachers didn't understand him, and Uncle said he didn't want his son to study too hard. They just passed the criticism on the report card, and the aunt said tearfully, He is a violent child, but he can't hurt a fly.

However, there was a comment from the school nurse at the end of the report card that my uncle and aunt could not explain. No matter how much my aunt complained about Dudley's big bones, the cost per pound was about the same as a puppy, saying that he was growing and needed enough food. But that didn't change the fact that the school clothing salesman said that he couldn't find short bloomers that big for Dudley to wear. The school nurse noticed that my aunt's eyes, sharp only when someone had fingerprinted her shiny walls and watched the neighbors come and go, were blind to his son's problems, and Dudley didn't need nourishment, had actually been. In terms of weight and size, it has reached the weight of a killer whale.

Lots of tantrums, arguments that nearly made the floor of Harry's bedroom shake, lots of tears from my aunt, and a new diet list started. The food list was sent by the school nurse and taped to the fridge, minus all of Dudley's favorite things: fizzy drinks, cakes, chocolate candies, hamburgers, stuffed with fruit, vegetables, and what Uncle called Rabbit food food, in order to make Dudley feel better, the aunt insisted that the whole family eat from the new food list. She was giving Harry a grapefruit now, and Harry noticed that his share was much smaller than Dudley's. It seemed to Auntie that the best way to keep Dudley motivated was to convince Dudley that he really ate more than Harry.

But my aunt didn't know what was hidden under the floor upstairs. She didn't know that Harry didn't follow the recipe at all. As soon as he got word that he might be spending the summer on carrots, he sent Hedwig to plead for help from his friends, who were generous enough to help. Hedwig brought back a large box of sugar-free snacks from Hermione's home (Hermione's parents are both dentists, so naturally they pay great attention to tooth protection).

Harry's school administrator gave him a bag of stone cakes, homemade (Harry hadn't touched it yet, he knew the administrator's cooking skills too well, Hagrid's teeth were not comparable to ordinary people). Mrs. Weasley sent her family's owl (Errow) to bring a large bag of fruit pies and all kinds of mince pies. Poor Errow, who is old and weak, needs five days to recover. Later on Harry's birthday (Dursley completely ignored it) he received four big cakes, and Ron, Hermione, Van Lin, and Sirius each gave one. Harry kept two more for the real breakfast. He started eating his sleeves without the slightest complaint.

Uncle let go of his newspaper, sniffing and disapproving of it, and then he looked at his share of fruit.

Is that all? he murmured to his aunt.

His aunt gave him a stern look, and nodded at Dudley, who had already finished his share.

His greedy little eyes were still looking sourly at Harry's share.

Uncle sighed, ruffling his bushy beard, and picked up the spoon.

The doorbell rang, and Uncle got up from his chair and went into the hall, where Dudley ate the rest of his father's share in a thunderbolt while his mother was busy filling the kettle.

Harry heard voices at the door, someone laughed, and his uncle responded roughly. Then the front door closed, and from the hall came the sound of paper being torn.

My aunt put the teapot on the table and looked around curiously, wondering where my uncle had gone.

She didn't have to wait long for the answer: after about a minute, he was back. He looks very angry.

He yelled at Harry, You, go into the living room, right now!

Confused, Harry didn't know what he had done this time. Harry stood up and followed his uncle out of the kitchen into another room, where his uncle slammed the door shut.

Therefore, he said, walking to the fireplace, and turning to Harry, growling as if to arrest Harry, therefore.

Harry was going to ask, So, what? but he didn't think he should mess with his uncle so early in the morning, especially in the midst of a high-strung state of lack of food for breakfast. So he stood there, polite but looking bewildered.

Just got this, said my uncle, waving a piece of purple paper at Harry. A letter. Yours.

Harry was even more confused. Who is writing to my uncle about him? Who knew that letters were sent by postal workers?

Uncle glared at Harry, then looked down at the letter and read aloud: Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley, we have never met, but I am sure you know a great deal about my son Ron.

As Harry may have told you, the Quidditch final is next Monday night, and my husband, Arthur, managed to get tickets in the Ministry of Magic and Sports through connections.

I hope you'll allow us to take Harry to the game because it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

The United States has not been the host country for thirty years, and tickets are extremely hard to come by, and we are of course happy to have Harry spend the rest of the holiday with us until we get him safely on the train back to school.

Better get Harry to write back to us as soon as possible, in the normal way, because non-wizard postmen never deliver letters to our house, and I'm not sure he knows the address.

Hope to see Harry soon, yours sincerely Molly Weasley PS; I do hope we've put enough stamps.

After my uncle finished reading the letter, he put his hand back into his breast pocket and pulled out another thing.

Look at this! he growled.

He held up Mrs Weasley's letter, and Harry had to fight back the urge to laugh. The envelope was full of stamps, except for a small note of the Dursleys' address written in small letters.

Harry said, She's got enough stamps, trying to sound as if Mrs. Weasley had made a mistake anyone could make. Uncle Vernon's eyes twinkled.

The uncle gritted his teeth, and said, The postman noticed, and was amused to know where the letter came from, and that's why he rang the bell. He seemed to think it was funny.

Harry couldn't say a word. Others didn't understand why Uncle could find fault with too many stamps, but Harry and Dudley had lived together too long to be unaware of their allergies to anything out of the ordinary. They were most concerned about being associated with someone like Mrs Weasley.

Uncle Vernon was still staring at Harry, who was trying his best not to say or do anything stupid. He waited for Uncle Vernon to speak. But he just stares. Harry decided to break the loneliness.

So...can I go? he asked.

Uncle's big purple face twitched, and his beard stood on end. Harry knew that behind that beard, the two most fundamental natures of his uncle were in fierce conflict. Allowing Harry to go would make Harry happy, which was the opposite of what my uncle had been fighting for for thirteen years. On the other hand, letting Harry go to the Weasleys for the rest of his vacation, leaving two weeks early, It's something other people can't wait for. Uncle really hated Harry in his house. As if to give him time to think, he looked again at Mrs Weasley's envelope.

Who is this woman? he said, eyeing the signature in disgust.

You've seen it, said Harry. She's my friend Ron's mother, and she took him off Hogg..., off the school train, and that was at the end of last term.

He almost said Hogwarts Express, which would have made Uncle fly into a rage. No one had the audacity to mention the name of Harry's school in the Dursleys' house.

Uncle's face was wrinkled, as if he was trying to remember some extremely unpleasant things.

Pumpy type of woman? he growled at last. Lots of red-haired kids?

Harry frowned. Uncle could call anyone chunky, but never his own son, who hadn't been called that since he was three.

Uncle looked at the letter again.

The Quidditch World Cup, he murmured under his breath, what kind of rubbish is this?

Harry was stabbed with anger again.

It's a sport, he said shortly, a game played on a broomstick.

Yes, yes! Auntie said loudly. Harry was somewhat satisfied, he saw that his uncle was a little frightened. Apparently his nerves couldn't bear the word broom being uttered in his living room. He diverted his attention by reading the letter. Harry saw his lips seem to say, Respond to us in the normal way. He glared.

Normal way? What does she mean? he demanded.

It's normal for us, said Harry, before his uncle stopped him, and he added, You know, sending letters by owl. That's normal for wizards.

Uncle Vernon looked furious, as if Harry had just made a disgusting oath. Trembling with anger, he looked out of the window anxiously, as if he was about to see some neighbors eavesdropping with their ears on the glass.

How many times have I told you not to bring up unnatural things in your home? he said, turning completely liver-colored. You stand there, you ungrateful thing, wearing the clothes me and your aunt gave you...

It's just that Dudley doesn't want to wear it anymore! Harry said coldly. Indeed, the undershirt he was wearing was too big, the sleeves had to be rolled up five times before he could reach out his hand, the undershirt was longer than his knees, and his jeans were too baggy .

Don't talk to me like that! said Uncle Vernon, shaking with rage.

But Harry wasn't going to put up with that any longer. Gone were the days of being forced to obey the Dursleys' rules, and he wouldn't eat on Dudley's diet. He wasn't going to let Uncle Vernon stop him from going to the Quidditch World Cup.

I'll write to my godfather, you know, Sirius Black.

He did so, as if by magic, and now he saw the purple on his uncle's face, covered with drops of sweat, which looked like ice cream mixed with diced black vinegar.

You'll write to him, won't you? said Uncle Vernon, trying to calm down, but Harry saw his pupils constrict with fear.

Oh, said Harry casually, it's been a while since he's had my letter, and you know, if he hasn't gotten my letter, he might start wondering if there's some trouble.

He stood there, complacently feeling the effect of the words. He could almost see what his uncle was thinking. If he stopped Harry from writing to Sirius, Sirius would think Harry was being abused. If he didn't allow Harry to go to the Quidditch World Cup, Harry would write to tell Sirius, and he would think Harry was being abused. Then uncle can only do one thing. Harry could seem to see the conclusions forming in his uncle's brain, as if his brain were transparent. Harry tried to be as expressionless as possible, and then - Well, you can go to this stupid - World Cup match. You write to tell these, these Weasleys, ask them to come and pick you up, I don't have time To see you off. You can spend your holidays there. You can tell yours—your godfather. Tell him... tell him...you're going.

This is Harry's trump card, a murderer, uh... once.

In the Muggle world, though, that's not undone, and the Ministry of Magic won't go to great lengths to erase the memories of so many people.

Naturally, Uncle Vernon's knowledge of Sirius was still at the time when he had killed someone.

This is a terrible thing for Muggles, not to mention that Vernon also knows that it is Harry's godfather, a wizard who has killed people before, and Muggle police can't do anything.

If he made Sirius unhappy, there was no guarantee that the Vernon family would be threatened or something.

If it really happened, there was nothing Vernon could do about it. If it wasn't for Harry not being able to use magic outside of school, then Vernon would naturally be afraid of Harry.

Of course, out of habit, this cannot be changed.

Harry didn't care either, as long as he was an adult, he could leave here.

This trump card was taught to him by Fan Lin before he left, it's called creating momentum!