Harry lay straight on the bed, his eyes wide open and breathing heavily, as if he had run a full marathon.
Just now, he woke up from a very vivid dream and pressed his hands tightly on his face. Under his fingers, the lightning-shaped scar burned with pain, as if someone had pressed a red-hot iron on his forehead.
He sat up, covering his scar with one hand, while his other hand fumbled in the dark for his glasses on the bedside table. He put on his glasses, and the scenery in the bedroom slowly became clearer. The light from the street lights outside the window penetrated the curtains, casting a hazy orange-red soft light into the bedroom.
Harry ran his fingers over the scar again, it still hurt terribly.
He turned on the desk lamp next to him, got out of bed, crossed the room, opened the closet, and looked at the mirror on the inside of the closet door.
In the mirror, a thin fourteen-year-old boy was also looking at him. Under the messy black hair was a pair of green eyes full of confusion. Harry looked at the scar on his forehead more carefully in the mirror. He couldn't see anything unusual, but it still hurt terribly.
Harry tried his best to recall the scene in his dream.
He often had dreams on weekdays, but none of them were as vivid as tonight... He frowned, concentrated his thoughts, and tried his best to remember...
A dim room vaguely appeared in front of his eyes... The fire in the fireplace was not very bright... A man covered in black mist... There was also a young, gentle, and steady voice... He always felt that he had heard it somewhere before. been.
"…Tom Riddle?"
Harry suddenly thought of the thrilling experience he had in the Slytherin Chamber of Secrets in his second year.
"Could it be that... it's Voldemort!"
When I think about this guy, I feel as if a piece of ice has slipped into my stomach...
He closed his eyes tightly and tried his best to recall Voldemort's appearance, but he couldn't... Harry only saw the back of a figure sitting on the sofa, and he was exuding an indescribable strange aura.
In the dream, he only felt an inexplicable fear, and then he woke up suddenly... Maybe it was because his scar suddenly hurt so much
Also, who is the old man at the door
At that time, the guy covered in black energy went to open the door - there must be an old man there, and Harry saw him fall to the ground...
Alas, it’s getting messy.
Harry buried his face in his hands to prevent himself from seeing the scenery in the bedroom, trying his best to immerse himself in the dimly lit room.
However, it was like trying to hold water with both hands. The harder he tried to grasp those details, the faster they slipped through his fingers... Voldemort and the weirdo had just talked about Wormtail, as if Also talked about… Maca!
"Maka?" Harry was shocked by what he recalled. "What happened to Maka? Why did you mention him... And where is Voldemort?"
He suddenly lifted his face from his hands, opened his eyes, and stared around the bedroom, as if he thought he would see something unusual.
The room looked a little messy as always.
There was a large wooden chest at the foot of his bed, open to reveal the cauldron, broomstick, black robes, and various spell books that Harry had read before going to bed last night. The pictures in this book are constantly moving. Young men in bright orange-red robes are riding on broomsticks, flying around and throwing red balls at each other.
Instead of looking at the things that were familiar to him, he walked to the window, opened the curtains, and looked at the street below.
"Is there that kind of... shabby old house on this street?"
Privet Drive looks exactly like what a respectable suburban street should look like in the early hours of a Sunday morning. The curtains were drawn tightly on both sides of the street. Harry looked over in the darkness and couldn't see a living thing, not even a shadow of a kitten.
However... However...
Harry returned to the bed uneasily, sat down, and touched his scar with another finger. It wasn't the pain from the scar that bothered him, Harry was used to pain and injuries.
He was just worried, what kind of relationship did this pain have with Voldemort
"...Scar...Voldemort...Maka..." Harry suddenly widened his eyes and looked at the bottom of the wooden box, "Maka?"
He suddenly remembered what Maka had said to him, and then he remembered Professor Trelawney's prophecy about Voldemort's return.
He remembered that Maka repeatedly asked him to go as soon as possible...
Thinking of this, Harry immediately jumped up from the edge of the bed, walked quickly to the big wooden box where the things were stored, and quickly rummaged through...
"The notes... the notes... are there!"
Looking at this thick notebook, Harry couldn't help but think back to Christmas the year he first entered Hogwarts. At that Christmas dinner, Maca sent a large number of owls to deliver various Christmas gifts to many people.
What Harry obtained was the notebook he was holding now with "Occlumency" written on the cover.
"However, most of the books here are about various principles of magic..." Harry said with a bitter face, "It's like taking a Charms version of the history of magic class..."
He looked helplessly at his bedroom again, and his eyes fell on three birthday cards—those were sent to him by his three best friends last year.
Speaking of which, my birthday is coming soon this year.
“What would they say if I wrote them a letter and told them the scar hurt?”
His mind was immediately filled with Hermione's fussing and fussing voice...
"Your scar hurts? Harry, that's not an ordinary thing... Write and tell Dumbledore quickly! I'll check "Common Magical Ailments"... Well, maybe we should also ask Maka... "
Yes, Hermione would definitely suggest this: go to the headmaster of Hogwarts quickly and look up the answer in a book. If that doesn't work, she will consider whether to cause Maka some trouble.
Harry sighed and stared out the window at the heavy dark blue night sky.
Maka is a very prophetic person and has always been reliable. Although he always looks busy, as Hagrid said, he always brings warmth to everyone in many details.
In fact, they are always under the care of Maka. For example, now, he seems to have thought of situations that even he himself has not thought of.
Harry thought about it, and finally opened the note and read it.
…
But while Harry was forcing himself to study, Hogwarts looked deserted. During the holidays, the school suddenly became empty. And at dawn, it was even more silent.
Suddenly, a small figure walked out of the castle and walked slowly towards the greenhouse.
With a soft "click", the door of the seventh greenhouse was opened. The figure walked into the greenhouse without hesitation and came to an area that was tightly covered by black cloth.
A corner of the black cloth was quietly lifted, and the figure walked in calmly.
Seemingly feeling that the extra wide pointed hat on his head was a bit obstructive, its owner gently took it off and placed it on a small shelf on the side.
Suddenly, a head of dazzling white long hair suddenly fell down. The hair was very long and spread down to the crook of his legs.
She shook her head casually, then reached out and pushed the ends of her hair behind her ears. Immediately, a delicate and lovely face that was not often seen was quietly revealed.
This is Willy Blois, a special and hidden existence in the French Blois family.
Willie calmly looked directly at the flower buds in front of her. Surprisingly, she seemed not to be affected by this special magical plant called "Mystery Crystal" at all.
She stretched out a delicate hand and stroked the flower bud; then, she took out a thick notebook from the bag slung behind her.
This is the herbal medicine note that Maka gave her. It contains many research records and conjectures about the "mystery crystal" that Maka wrote down before she was taken away.
Willie took out her wand, cast a wand glowing spell, and then read it carefully.
Time passed little by little, and the darkness before dawn soon faded away, and the sun peeked out from the east mountain. But because the place was surrounded by black cloth, not much light penetrated.
But at this moment, Willy suddenly raised her head and stared blankly at the buds, as if waiting for something.
Slowly, little bits and pieces of crystals gradually shone on those flower buds, becoming brighter little by little with the rising sun outside.
After a while, the buds slowly opened.
As the petals of one of the "mystery crystals" unfolded, one after another, all the flower buds unfolded, and those crystal colors like starlight made the entire surrounding space as beautiful as a fairyland.
And the influence of this flower on living things reaches its true peak as it blooms.
But for some reason, Willie was still not affected in any way. She just looked at the beautiful but dangerous flowers quietly, and sometimes carefully recorded something with a pen.
At this moment, the flowers began to crystallize from the stamens, and in a moment, it spread to the entire plant.
It can be said that until now, they have truly become the rare "mysterious crystal flowers" in ancient times. Willy gently picked one of them off, and it made a crisp sound like glass breaking.
"... When others are fascinated by you, what are you... thinking about?" Willy said the most complete sentence so far intermittently.
Her eyes looked confused, but in an instant they gradually returned to their usual calmness.
"Maka said you are in danger..." Willie looked down at the note that Maka gave her and asked herself blankly, "...what about me?"
She casually placed the crystal-like flower on the page, as lost in thought as usual.