Chapter 274

"Teacher, I'm Marca McLean. As a student who accepts your magic inheritance, I'll deal with this Mr. riddle!"

To tell the truth, not many people heard this sentence that night, but this kind of thing will be particularly convinced by word of mouth.

In short, it was Marca and his teacher gidrow Lockhart who drove Voldemort away. This is a reality in full view of the public, and there is no doubt about it.

That night, the most impressive thing was Maka's sudden appearance. Almost everyone fixed the memory picture on the ice blue light column breaking through the air.

As for what happened after that, it was secondary.

People only need to understand one thing, that is - after Dumbledore, we have a new dependence. His name is gidrow Lockhart!

You ask him what his strength is? make fun of! The students he taught are so strong that he himself must be stronger!

Public opinion is always blind, but it is also full of power.

This time, singing the opposite tune edited by Mr. Lovegood published the event earlier than the prophet daily. With Maka's publicity for the audio-visual meeting, Mr. Lovegood really made a lot of money this time.

Although this is inseparable from Maka's prior warning, Mr. Lovegood's trust also brought him no small "encouragement".

Voldemort retreated strategically again this time, but when he will come back next time is still an unknown problem.

However, Voldemort, who has been frustrated twice in a row, seems to be quiet, but no big things happen, but small things continue. Recently, the order of the Phoenix has taken more actions than before.

In fact, the overall situation will not get better because of the morale boost this time. After all, the root cause has not been eliminated. Even if it is temporarily stable on the surface, what should be faced will eventually be faced.

Fortunately, because of Maka's audio-visual meeting plan, a large number of black wizards and death eaters were recaptured, and the bad impact of prisoners' escape was suddenly reduced.

"It's getting hotter and hotter!"

Maka put down the quill and sighed. She picked up the white potion bottle on the table and poured two drops under her feet. Suddenly, a faint chill rose, and a cool feeling spread all over the body.

"Oh - comfortable!"

……

Today is probably the hottest day of this summer.

After that night, Harry returned to the Dursleys and continued his boring Muggle life. The scope of his activities remained unchanged. Except for his own room, there was only the back of the cluster of hydrangeas outside the window.

What he saw and heard that night had a great impact on Harry. No, it can be said that it had a great impact on everyone, and Hermione and Ron were surprised.

But at least, they don't worry about their forehead, do they?

"Thank God, that bastard is finally out of sight... Well... Where the hell has he gone?"

In the room, Uncle Vernon Dursley suddenly spoke, and Harry lay lazily under the flowers and listened bored.

"God knows," Aunt Petunia didn't seem to care about it. "She's not in the house anyway."

Uncle Vernon muttered again.

"That boy likes watching news!" he said sarcastically. "I want to know what he is going to do! A normal kid, who will be interested in news? Dada will change the channel as soon as he sees the news. I suspect he doesn't know who the prime minister is!

"... I said, there can't be anything about people like them in our news --"

"Shh - Vernon," said Aunt Petunia, "the window isn't closed!"

"Oh! Yes... Sorry, honey."

The Dursleys finally shut up!

Harry listened to a short commercial song about a healthy breakfast of vegetables and wheat bran and looked at the roadside where Mrs. Figg was passing slowly, frowning and talking.

It was an old lady with a strange temper and many cats who lived on Wisteria road. Her home was not far from here.

"Oh! Fortunately, I hid behind the flowers. If Mrs. Figg saw me, she would invite me to tea again - she's been like this lately."

Harry thought, but saw Mrs. Figg turn the corner and disappear.

At this time, Uncle Vernon's voice came out of the window: "where's little Dudley? He's out for tea?"

"Yes, the Borges," said Aunt Petunia lovingly, "look at our little baby. There are so many little friends. Everyone likes him!"

Harry tried to control himself so that he wouldn't have to hum from his nose.

In dealing with their baby son, the couple were surprisingly stupid. Dudley would make a stupid lie every night this summer vacation, saying that he was going to have tea at one of his friends' homes, but they really believed it!

Harry knew very well, of course. Where would Dudley be interested in drinking tea?

He would only go to the amusement park with those "good brothers" every night to destroy public property, gather on the sidewalk to smoke, or smash passing cars and children with stones with a bad smile.

Harry saw their bad behavior more than once when he was walking around the neighborhood in the evening.

He spent most of the summer wandering the streets, rummaging through the dustbins and looking for newspapers to read - to be honest, it was much more comfortable than staying at Dursley's house.

Just then, the opening song of the seven o'clock news began to ring, and Harry quickly focused and listened with a little tension.

"... the strike period of Spanish baggage porters has entered the second week, and a large number of holidaymakers are stranded at the airport..."

"If I were you, I'd just let them enjoy a lifetime nap." Uncle Vernon shouted fiercely before the news host said anything.

But it didn't matter. Harry in the flower bed outside quietly fell to the ground with the hanging stone in his heart.

If anything happens, it's the headlines - disasters and deaths are far more important than holidaymakers staying at the airport.

He took a slow breath and looked up at the blue and clear sky.

Almost every day of this summer vacation is like this: nervous, waiting, temporarily relieved, and then the string in my mind continues to tighten a little.

Because of this, a problem is becoming more and more urgent: why hasn't anything happened yet?

Harry regained his mood and continued to listen. He was afraid that there might be some inconspicuous clues that Muggles might ignore - such as someone missing or some strange accident.

But after the porter strike was reported, there was a drought in the southeast of the country, then a helicopter nearly crashed in Noda, Surrey, and then a popular actress divorced her equally famous husband.

As in the past, Dursley and his wife make complaints about their Tucao, which is fierce and stupid. In contrast, Hiraki Nao's news broadcast has made Harry feel more comfortable.

He narrowed his eyes slightly because the sunset glow in the sky became a little dazzling.

"Finally, this summer, bangji, a tiger skin parrot, found a new way to cool off! Bangji, who lives in five feathers street in Barnsley, has mastered the skills of water skiing! Mary dorkin reports in detail."

Voldemort has indeed returned. He even saw it with his own eyes at the audio-visual meeting! However, nothing bad seems to have happened in the Muggle world.

Is it true that nothing happened? Or... In fact, what accident happened, which was just covered up by the British Ministry of magic?

Since it's all about tiger skin parrot water skiing, there's probably no news worth listening to. Harry rolled up lightly, ready to walk away from the hidden flowers.

However, he dares to say that he has just climbed two inches!

But at such a distance of two inches, a series of things happened in a row.

Only a loud, echoing burst, like the sound of a gun, cut through the dull silence; A cat jumped out from under a car parked on the side of the road and disappeared a few times; From the living room came a shout and a scream, and the sound of something breaking.

Harry, who is always nervous, seems to have been waiting for this moment.

He jumped to his feet and took his wand out of his jeans pocket - but before he could stand up straight, his head hit the open window.

With a bang, Aunt Petunia screamed again.

Harry felt his head split in half, and the pain made his eyes dim with tears.

He shook his body and stared at the street, trying to make the blurred vision clear again, so as to find out where the sound came from.

But just as he barely stood still, two big hands stretched out of the window and tightly grabbed his neck.

"Put it away - that stick!" Uncle Vernon shook Harry's neck. "Come on! Don't let - others - see it!"

"Put... Away... Me!" Harry's voice squeezed out of his oppressed throat.

Harry struggled, breaking Vernon's hot dog finger with his left hand, and clutching the wand in his right hand.

Then there was another sharp pain on Harry's already painful head.

Cried Uncle Vernon, releasing his hand as if struck by lightning. It was as if an inexplicable energy gushed out of his nephew and bounced his fingers away.

At this time, faces appeared in several nearby windows. Harry hurriedly stuffed his wand back into his jeans pocket and pretended to be nothing.

"What a charming evening!" Uncle Vernon waved to the wife opposite. "Did you hear the sound of the car tempering just now? Penny and I were scared!"

He had an ugly smile on his face until the curious neighbors disappeared one by one from the window.

Then his smile immediately turned ferocious again.

"What the hell are you doing, son of a bitch?" Uncle Vernon scolded in a low voice.

"Uh... Excuse me, excuse me... Do you know how to get to Hogwarts?" suddenly, a soft, timid voice sounded behind Harry, "... I seem to be... Lost."