Harris Manor, Dorsetshire, in the garden, the flowers are full of flowers, fragrant and charming, and the garden is full of purple and red flowers under the effect of magic. Owen Harris took Emily's hand, Helena floated beside him, Owen took Helena to stroke the petunia blowing purple trumpet, sniffed the blue cornflower in full bloom, and picked a large bouquet of bright red and white roses, the national flower of England......

"Your grandmother will love it, she always loved roses. Be careful not to get pricked. Owen said, carefully plucking a rose that had fully bloomed.

For Helena, she could touch them, but most of them were not felt, only slightly touching the thorny roses, but very slightly, almost none.

Emily, like Owen, carefully avoided the thorns, while Helena felt no sense of them, and she was intently picking roses, which pierced into her palms but seemed to have little effect on her.

"Ho, look what I've found—nettles!" Owen found a patch of greenery with dense prickly hairs and slightly pubescent outlines growing under a shady tree, "Emily, don't touch the nettle, the thorns on it will make you burn." ”

Without hesitation, Helena reached out and touched a nettle leaf, and Owen and Emily looked at Helena with concern.

"Do you feel it?" asked Emily, tilting her head.

"Nope. Helena said with an unchanging face.

Emily looked at Helena's appearance, stretched out her finger to a nettle leaf in front of her, hesitated and gently touched the nettle leaf, and then her finger quickly retracted, felt it and said, "It seems to have no effect." ”

"Maybe it's because the leaves have few thorns, Helena, you touch its stems and try it, be careful not to push too hard. Owen pointed to the stalk of the nettle, which, unlike the leaves, was densely covered with sharp thorns, and he glanced at Emily's delicate palm, and warned his little daughter, "Emily, don't imitate Helena anymore, don't touch it." ”

Helena's fingers touched the stalk of the nettle, her fingers paused, and then she gently stroked it again, and then retracted her hand expressionlessly and became translucent: "Grandfather, I feel a tingling sensation. ”

"Can you feel it? That's good, let's go smell the other flowers, maybe the lilies will give you some scent." Owen turned first, and Helena floated behind him.

The two of them hadn't gone far when an earth-shattering howl suddenly sounded behind them.

The grandfather and granddaughter turned around in surprise to find Emily curled up on her back, tears rolling down her eyes. Her fingers were spread out, as if she were holding something empty, but the pain became more and more unbearable as she moved her hand, and she howled even harder, like the siren of boiling hot water while making tea, pierced the silence of the garden.

Emily wept bitterly, all the cleanliness habits of the past were left behind her, and the snot was about to flow into her wide open mouth, but she didn't care about wiping it at all, kicked her feet on the ground a few times, and began to roll on the ground, completely losing her usual image like a little princess.

"I told you. When Owen saw Emily's appearance, he guessed that Emily must have ignored his warnings, and thought Helena was fine, so he curiously touched the stalk of the nettle as well. Owen looked at such a little daughter and couldn't suppress his laughter.

Helena returned herself to her ghostly state, letting her hand run through her aunt Emily's injured right hand, trying to make the ghost feel better by its cold-giving properties as it passed through the living.

Emily cried even more bitterly when she heard her father's laughter, and her feet kept kicking, as if this would relieve her pain and vent her anger.

"I told you, little fool, get up quickly. Owen couldn't control himself anymore, and smiled and stretched out his hand to his daughter, trying to pull her up, but Emily, who was so loved and had never experienced such pain, was completely immersed in the burning pain caused by the hives and did not notice the movements of her gloating father.

"Why are you boiling hot water in the garden?" Morgan Ferreuil's voice rang out from behind Owen, "What's wrong with Emily?"

Owen seemed to be choked by the throat all at once, and the laughter stopped abruptly.

That night, when Alan returned from the Umbrella Golem Research Institute for dinner, he was not surprised to find that Morgan Ferreuil had prepared a sumptuous table of food, except that his father Owen's plate was full of vegan dishes such as kale and chickpeas.

Owen poked the chickpeas on his plate with a fork to turn them into refried beans, and looked pitifully at his wife, who was enjoying one of Bremen's most famous regional specialties, kale with smoked sausages.

Helena's palate was evident to be able to feel the excitement of this heavy sweet dish from North Germany, and she was much more skilled in her movements than she had ever looked.

Emily's usual right hand had touched the stalk of the nettle, and the sting of the nettle made her dare not move under the tablecloth, so she could only use her other hand to pick up a piece of butter cake that her mother had made to comfort her and put it in her mouth.

A few pretty brown owls flew through the window to the table, and the owl's arrival eased the awkward atmosphere, and Owen shouted, "Boys, here comes your booklist." ”

As soon as Emily lifted her intact hand, Albert beside her had already wiped her mouth with a napkin, and then reached out to help her injured little sister unpack the letter tied to the owl's leg—though the pain had actually been cured by her mother, Morgan Ferreuil.

A clanging sound caught everyone's attention, and a glittering badge fell onto the table, "Male Student Council President Badge? Daisy recognized the badge at a glance, and she had wanted it when she was a student at Hogwarts.

"This is not in line with the usual practice at Hogwarts, only seventh-year students can be the president of the student council, and Alan is only in sixth, what special purpose is Dumbledore's arrangement in advance?" Lunn's eyes rolled with the badge, he had held this position at Hogwarts back then.

Alan shrugged, "Either it's a show of goodwill, or a vain attempt to use his position as president of the student council to assign tasks to me?" ”

"Anyway, Alan is already a professor at Hogwarts, but it's a great fulfillment to be able to get both the prefect and the student council president when he was a student. Owen nodded in satisfaction, stuffed the chickpeas on the fork into his mouth, and then frowned again, "Alan got the student council president badge in the sixth grade, Morgan Ferreuil, shouldn't you celebrate?

"I'll choose the right outfit to match Allen's badge. Morgan Ferreuil picked up Allen's badge and wiped it with his fingers, ignoring her husband's request.

After the meal, Errol, the Weasley's owl, flew into Harris Manor and found Alan. This is a letter from Mr. Arthur Weasley, wanting to know when Alan will have time to go with them to the "Weasley's Magic Tricks" that Allen has invested in.