He took two steps back, withdrew his wand from Dudley's second chin, and pointed the tip at the ground. His initial reaction was that it was a mess, Dudley might complain, but upon second thought, it seemed fine. Harry stared at the messy room; it was a perfect opportunity for him to pack his bags and move to the house Sirius had rented overnight.
Now that Voldemort had been captured, Harry didn't feel any immediate danger, so the loss of protective magic didn't seem like a significant drawback. As this thought crossed his mind, it took root in Harry's head and quickly grew into a towering tree.
Dudley finally reacted.
He slowly put his hand into his pocket, took out a few banknotes, and Harry stared wide-eyed. For a moment, he thought he had discovered Dudley's real intention—to show off how much pocket money he had. But Harry quickly figured it out. He looked at Dudley, who was struggling to speak, and a strange feeling welled up in his heart. S~eaʀᴄh the NovelZone.fun website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
"I—buy—money—"
"You want to take out money to buy something? From me? What are you buying?"
Dudley opened his mouth, his face turning red, apparently losing the ability to speak.
"Zi—zi—"
"Ziziz Honeydukes?"
"Pepper Imps?"
"Dudley—Dada—The TV show has started—it's your favorite—"
Aunt Petunia's shout from the living room broke the silence between the two. Dudley hurriedly left, with Harry following like casting a hex, standing at the doorway shouting downstairs, "Got it—I'll be right down."
Then he turned around, seemingly gathering enough courage from his mother again, and stared at Harry's forehead for a moment.
"Is it true what's in the comic books? The one that mentions you, the famous Potter?"
"Yeah, the famous Potter." Harry repeated dryly.
Dudley disappeared from view. The stairs emitted a groan of protest, and Harry stood still for a few seconds, walked over, picked up the parchment from the floor. The knocked-over ink bottle had made the first few pages of the parchment a mess, but Harry wasn't too worried. He had almost memorized the content. It was his own book, possibly for future publication, and Harry was patient and meticulous about it.
Come to think of it, Harry hadn't considered the issue of publication.
Maybe he should ask Professor Snape? But he dismissed that idea; he didn't want to contact Professor Snape or Headmaster Dumbledore right now. He had heard the complete prophecy from Sirius, knowing his destiny: one must die at the hands of the other, as both cannot live. Only one will survive...
For a moment, a strong hope ignited in Harry's heart. If someone has to survive, it should be him, right? Because Voldemort had been captured. Obviously, Sirius thought so too, so when Harry asked, he readily told him.
But Harry knew more; he was a Horcrux, a part of Voldemort's life.
Sirius didn't know about Horcruxes; he was kept out of the loop. Harry had confirmed this repeatedly, finding a sense of kinship with Sirius. At the same time, a faint doubt about his own fate arose, or perhaps Dumbledore was trying to find a way to let him survive?
Harry dared not ask this question; he was ready to face death generously, not wanting to be struck a second time. He could only wait; if they—Professor Snape or Headmaster Dumbledore—found a solution, they would surely tell him.
Flap, flap.
An owl flew in through the window. Harry thought it was Hedwig, but it was another tawny owl. It disdainfully circled the room, reluctantly finding a perch on the windowsill, lifting its right leg.
Harry walked over and took the neatly sealed large envelope.
When he saw the Ministry of Magic emblem and the Wizarding Examination Authority's seal, he froze.
He had completely forgotten about the O.W.L. exam results.
At the same time, several things were happening almost simultaneously—
Felix said his goodbyes and left his orphanage friend's house; Dumbledore, busy all day, received news in a foreign land: Gellert Grindelwald mysteriously disappeared, suspected of escaping; and an unexpected guest barged into Privet Drive, renting a house nearby.
"Sir, do you plan to stay for long?"
"Unfortunately, I have other plans; I'll probably stay here for a month. After that, I'll meet a few people, old friends and a pen pal I've never met. Speaking of which, my pen pal is quite eloquent and creative. I'm hoping to have a personal chat with him..."
Out of consideration for the exorbitant rent, the landlord didn't raise any objections.
"Oh, by the way... the Dursleys live around here, right?"
"Yes, are you related to them?" The landlord asked curiously, "They've never mentioned you."
"No." Grindelwald said softly. He was in much better condition now, still with a thin face but no longer skeletal. He was dressed in exquisite and refined clothes, resembling an old-fashioned gentleman.
He showed a polite smile and said, "I often hear my pen pal mention the names of their children—he is a schoolteacher, and honestly, my ears are getting calloused from hearing about them."
"You mean Dudley Dursley?"
"The other one," Grindelwald casually said, "Seems to be called Harry Potter."
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