HP Magic Biography

The moon, the stars, and the street lamps suddenly came back to reality, a warm breeze blew through the alley, the trees in the nearby garden rustled, and the rumble of cars on Crescent Magnolia Street in the ordinary world was full again. into the air.

Harry stood still, all his senses vibrating from being suddenly brought back into reality. After a while, he realized that his shirt was completely stuck to him - he was drenched in sweat.

He couldn't believe what happened just now, the dementor was here, right on Xiaoweijin Road!

Although I can't believe it, but even if I don't believe my eyes, his wand will not lie to him, oh, of course, there is this pig...

Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry was bending over to see if he could get up on his own, when suddenly Harry heard loud, hurried footsteps behind him.

Harry subconsciously raised his wand again, across Dudley's heels to face the visitor.

That was Mrs. Figg, their eccentric old neighbor.

Mrs. Figg came into sight, panting, her gray hair loose from her hairnet, a rope shopping bag clinking at her wrists, her feet only half covered in her tartan carpet slippers. , Harry quickly put away his wand, but...

Don't put it away! Silly boy!! she screamed. What if they're still around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!

What did you say? Harry asked blankly.

He's gone, said Mrs. Figg with both hands. He left to see a man who dropped a set of cauldrons from the back of his broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he left. Peep, now look what's going on! Dementors! Luckily this time, I got Mr Tibbs into the affair! But we still don't have time to look around! Now, Harry, we're sending you Go home! Oh, this trouble should never have happened! I'll kill him!

But— For Harry, the shock of discovering that his crazy cat-loving old lady neighbor knew what a dementor was was the same as meeting two dementors in an alley. The monster is almost as big.

You - are you - are you a witch? Harry could hardly believe what came out of his mouth.

As Mundungus knows full well, I'm a Squib (a term in wizarding circles for those who are of traditional wizarding blood but without magic), so how can it be imagined that I have the power to help you fight off dementors? ? But when I warned him, he left you unwisely—”

Mundungus has been following me? Harry asked in disbelief.

Aha—it's him! He's the one who's making all the commotion in front of my house!

Yes! Yes! Yes! But luckily, I had Mr. Tibbs stationed under a car just in case, and Mr. Tibbs did come to warn me, but You were gone when I went to your house - and now - oh! what will Dumbledore say?

You! she yelled at Dudley, who was still lying on his back on the alley floor, get your fat ass off the ground, quick!

You know Dumbledore? Harry stared at Mrs. Figg, not to be too surprised by such information.

Of course I know Dumbledore, and who doesn't know Dumbledore? But come on now - if they come back, there's nothing I can do, I've never transformed into a teabag Magic, frankly, I can't even get wands to admit...

This is a sad topic, just like Mr. Filch, as a squib, they have the ability to face those magical creatures like wizards, but they can't store half of the magic power in their bodies, the natural magic power dissolves in Flesh, that subtle feeling can't even light up even the simplest wand...

Sorry... Harry realized that some topics hurt a wizard, like Mr. Filch, who was already out of his mind without seeing him.

It's okay, kid, I've been used to it for a long time, and being able to see a lot of different things, although it's not friendly to me, but my cognition is also clearer than ordinary people, no wizard would be willing Staying here forever with Muggles, but I don't think there's anything wrong with that, at least, no one will target a Squib, and the constant accumulation of magic power allows me to experience a small experience for a very short time, while they dissipate Before……

But let's get out of here, said Mrs. Figg.

She stopped, grabbing one of Dudley's fat arms with her bony hand and tugging.

Get up, you useless fool, get up!

But Dudley was neither able nor willing to get up. He lay on the ground, trembling, pale, with lips tightly shut.

Oh, I'm coming! Harry quickly grabbed Dudley's arm and held it up.

Although because of going to school, Harry can't be regarded as malnourished, at most he can be regarded as skinny, but Dudley's title of fat pig is not for nothing. This is something that was determined a long time ago.

After a tremendous effort he managed to get Dudley to lift his foot too, Dudley still looked unconscious. His small eyes rolled in their sockets, sweat covered his face; his body swayed dangerously as Harry let him go.

Come on! cried Mrs. Figg hysterically. Harry put one of Dudley's fat arms over his shoulders and dragged him down the street, Harry's shoulders sagging slightly under Dudley's weight.

Mrs. Figg staggered ahead of them, watching the corner of the street nervously.

Get your wand out! she said to Harry as they entered Wisteria Lane. Forget about the Statutes of Secrecy now. ), we'd be punished harshly anyway, maybe hanged by dragons like bastards. Talk about the somewhat reasonable underage witchcraft restriction: that's exactly what Dumbledore was worried about - where was The end of the street? Oh, that's Mr. Prentice. Don't put your wand down, boy! Don't make me keep telling you I can't use magic, okay?

Holding the wand steady while tugging on Dudley was no easy feat. Harry smacked his cousin Dudley in the ribs impatiently, but Dudley seemed to have lost all desire for independent action.

He collapsed onto Harry's shoulders, his huge feet dragging on the ground.

Why didn't you tell me you were a Squib, Mrs. Figg? Harry asked, panting, as he struggled to walk, while I was in your house - why didn't you say anything?

Dumbledore's order. I must have custody of you but I cannot tell you anything, you are too young. I am sorry for giving you such a miserable time, Harry! But if the Dursleys think you like my place, they I won't let you come again. It's hard, you know, but, oh! Look what I've said. Again she cried sadly, with sweaty palms, When Dumbledore listens By the time this happened - hearing how Mundungus was able to leave, until midnight he was assumed to be on a mission - where was he? How could I tell Dumbledore what had happened? I couldn't make contact.

I've got an owl, you can borrow it, Harry groaned, marveling at how well Dudley's weight was on his back.

Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore must act as soon as possible. The Ministry of Magic has their own channels for detecting minors performing magic. They already know it now. You must take my word for it.

But I got rid of the dementors, I had to use magic - they should be more worried about what the dementors are doing wandering Wisteria Lane, right? Hermione said that dementors can't leave Zkaban...

Oh dear, I hope that's the case, but I'm afraid—Mundungus Fletcher, I'm going to kill you!

There was a loud crash when a man in a tattered coat suddenly appeared in front of them, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of wine mixed with the smell of rotting tobacco.

The man had short, bowlegged legs, long, straggly flaxen hair, and bloodshot, baggy eyes, which gave him the dour look of a bathound. He was also clutching a small silver bag, which Harry recognized immediately as an Invisibility Cloak.

Good morning, Figg, he said, taking a first look at Mrs. Figg, Harry and Dudley. What happened during my covert activities?

Go to hell with your secret activities! Mrs. Figg yelled, the dementors have appeared, you are useless, you should kill the thief!

Dementors? Mundungus repeated, stunned. You mean dementors?

Yes, right here, you worthless bastard spy, right here! screamed Mrs. Figg. A dementor attacked this child under your watch!

Oops, Mundungus replied feebly, looking from Mrs. Figg to Harry and back, oh, I—

Are you selling those stolen cauldrons again! Didn't I tell you not to? Did I—

I know, too, I— Mundungus looked distressed, it, it's a really good business opportunity, look—

Mrs. Figg lifted the bag wrapped around her arm and threw it at Mundungus' face. The string of the bag wrapped around Mundungus' neck. Judging from the jingling of the bag, The bag should be full of cat food.

Oops - get it off - get it off, you crazy old bat (bat and spy are the same word in English)! Somebody's going to tell Dumbledore about it!

Yes—they've—did it! cried Mrs. Figg, throwing the multicolored cat food on every part of Mundungus within her reach, and—the best It was you - could you go and tell Dumbledore - why you weren't there to rescue!

Keep your senses! said Mundungus, flinching back with his hands over his head, I'm on my way! I'm on my way! And with another loud crack, he was gone .

I hope Dumbledore kills him! Mrs. Figg said violently. Now, come here, Harry, what are you waiting for?

Harry decided not to waste his remaining strength by pointing out that he could barely move under Dudley's weight. He gave the half-conscious Dudley a lift, causing him to lean forward even more.

I'll see you at the gate, said Mrs Figg as they turned into Privet Drive, only in case there are more dementors around, oh my god, what a scene Cataclysms, and you'll have to fight them off on your own, and Dumbledore said we should do whatever it takes to keep you from using magic, well! I guess now's not the time to worry about little things, but those The cat is playing tricks now.

So, said Harry breathlessly, Dumbledore has been following me?

Of course...yes, Mrs. Figg said with obvious impatience, did you think he would let you hang around after the incident in June? Well, boy, they told me to let you stay here It's wise and correct, said Mrs. Figg when they reached No. 4, I hope someone will contact you soon, and it's only half the time...

What are you going to do now? Harry asked quickly.

I'll go straight home, replied Mrs. Figg, staring at the dark street all around her, trembling. I need to wait for more, but, until then, just stay at home. Good night!

Wait, don't go now! I want to know— But Mrs. Figg was already trotting away, her slippers clattering and her bag of thread clinking.

Wait! Harry called after her. He had a million questions to ask anyone who came into contact with Professor Dumbledore: but within seconds Mrs Figg's figure was swallowed up in darkness.

Harry, frowning, repositioned Dudley on his shoulders to allow them to move slowly, achingly, to the garden path at number four, Privet Drive. The living room lights were still on.

Harry tucked his wand back into the waistband of his jeans, rang the bell and watched as the silhouette of Aunt Petunia grew larger and twisted oddly against the frosted glass of the door.

Dudley! It's about time too, I'm getting very, very - Dudley, what's going on!

Harry looked at Dudley next to him, and jumped out from under Dudley's arm at the right time.

Dudley swayed in place, his face blushed and white, and he opened his mouth to spit all over the doorway.

Dudley! Dudley! What the hell happened? Vernon! Vernon! Harry's uncle came out of the bedroom in high spirits, and his drooping mustache was blown left and right. It always seemed to be like this when he was agitated.

He hurried forward to help Aunt Petunia get the limp Dudley in without stepping on the disgusting pile of vomit on the floor.

He's sick, Vernon!

How do you feel, son? What happened? Did Mrs. Polks give you some foreign tea?

Why are you covered in dirt, dear? Have you ever fallen to the ground?

Wait—your face is all right, isn't it, son? Aunt Petunia screamed.

Call the police, Vernon! Call the police! Dudley, honey, talk to mother! What did they do to you?

Harry had been left unnoticed throughout all this chaos, which suited him well.

He wanted to sneak in before Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut, and when Dudley moved his noise program from the living room to the kitchen, Harry moved cautiously and went upstairs quietly.

Who did it, son? Tell us the name. We'll get him, don't worry.

Quiet! What is he trying to say, Vernon! What's going on, Dudley? Tell Mom!

Harry was standing at the bottom of the stairs when Dudley found his voice.

It's him.