On this day, there was another dispute at the breakfast table at No. 4 Privet Road.

Early in the morning, Mr. Vernon Dursley was woken up by a loud scream in his nephew Harry's house.

"This is the third time this week!" he roared across the table, "if you can't control that owl, let it fuck off!"

Harry, who was coming out of the kitchen with a frying pan and an apron around his waist, tried to explain.

"It's stuffy, it's used to flying outside, if I can let it out at night......"

"Are you a fool to me?" Uncle Vernon roared, a trace of fried egg dangling over his bushy beard, "I know what happens if I let an owl out, it will bring back ten times as many owls!"

With that, the Dursleys exchanged a panicked and gloomy look.

They will never forget in their lives the fear that was once dominated by the all-pervasive owl letters.

"Listen, boy!" said Mr. Dursley, holding up his stubby fingers, "I've given you a big bedroom, and I haven't thrown your damn devil books and weird utensils in the trash, all for the sake of your help your aunt run the kitchen this month, but if you're still trying to get an inch, then it's too much!"

"But ......"

"Besides, I remember giving you a chance, right? It's not my fault. ”

Glancing at Harry, who seemed to want to refute, a shrewd look flashed in Uncle Vernon's little eyes.

"If there is a letter, you can indeed have a choice of how many letters you can reply to. It's just a pity that from the current situation, it seems that you have a bad relationship in that weird place, and you don't have any friends who want to contact you. ”

After last year's owl bombing, Vernon Dursley knew exactly how much of a headache it can be for those brain-sick wizards to get stubborn. In order to prevent a similar situation from happening again this year, he had made a pact with Harry before the start of the summer vacation that he would not take the initiative to contact those strange guys unless it was a reply.

"They must have not received it, let me try again......"

Hearing Mr. Dursley's words, Harry's face darkened slightly, and he said with some reluctance.

However, before he could finish his sentence, his words were drowned out by a long, loud hiccup from his cousin Dali.

Dali grinned, turned to face Harry, and tapped the plate with his fork.

"Hey, cook, bring me some fried bacon. ”

"Didn't you hear your cousin, Potter, hand over the frying pan!"

Aunt Petunia glared hard at Harry, who was still hanging in place, and turned her head to look at her hunky son with moist eyes.

"We're going to hurry up and get you fat...... The school food makes me uncomfortable to listen to...... You're hungry and thin......"

"Nonsense, I never went hungry when I went to school in Smetin—it was the best middle school in the area, and it was top-notch in terms of food, teaching, and even the people around me! Dudley didn't eat badly, didn't he, son?"

Uncle Vernon retorted emotionally, glancing contemptuously at Harry as he stood in the kitchen doorway.

"At least, it's definitely much better than some of the other places...... I wouldn't let my son go to a place where the students would learn to cook themselves, and you can imagine how bad the food at that school was. ”

"The food at Hogwarts is the best in the world, there is no one!"

Harry slammed the frying pan on the table and said in annoyance.

Perhaps because of the exertion, the bacon slices in the frying pan suddenly bounced, crossed half of the table, and slapped exactly on Mr. Dursley's face with a loud slap in the face, instantly knocking back all the rest of the man's words.

With the piece of bacon imprinted on Vernon Dursley's face, the room seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

Immediately after, Mr. Dursley's deafening roar rang in Harry's ears.

"What do you want to do, boy?! You're still eating me and using my ......."

Mr. Dursley threw the slices of bacon on the table and jumped up, revealing the bruises on his temples.

"I'm sorry, it was just an accident. Harry hurriedly said, "I'm not—"

Truth be told, Harry wasn't sure if it was because he was really pushing too hard, or if the magic in his body had helped a little bit again.

"Don't think I don't know you're!"

Uncle Vernon puffed out his eyes and shook his fist vigorously, spitting stars on the table.

"I warned you! Don't use the tricks you learned in that inconsistency in my house! Especially if you use them against us! Breakfast is over, and you don't have to prepare lunch! Go back to your room! Now, at once!"

"Alright," said Harry, "alright...... I'm not hungry at all anyway!"

Harry glanced at Uncle Vernon, panting like a short-of-breath rhinoceros, at the end of the table, unbuttoned his apron and threw it on the table, leaving the kitchen and returning to his room without hesitation.

Ever since he came home from the summer, Uncle Vernon had been treating him like a ticking time bomb.

Even if he took the initiative to show favor to the Dursley family according to the advice of the eldest sister before parting, such as helping with household chores or helping to cook three meals a day, it only eased the relationship a little.

As soon as magic was involved, the Dursleys felt as if they had seen a virus, wishing that he would disappear in an instant.

In the words of Vernon Dursley, Harry did nothing, crouched in the room and did not come out, did not let the neighbors see him, and then left quietly, which was the most wonderful help.

Of course, after a trial or two of Harry's craft, Vernon reluctantly changed his words.

"This little cub is still a little bit useful—"

It's just that for Harry, the attitude of the Dursleys doesn't mean much.

Although he was raised by the Dursleys and lived in the family for ten years, he knew that he was completely different from the family, and that there was nothing in common in terms of personality, appearance, or hobbies.

Sullen back to his room, Harry looked at the calendar he looked at several times a day by the bed.

"There's still a month to go, and I really want to go back to Hogwarts......"

Harry missed Hogwarts so much that his guts ached.

He missed the castle, the secret passages and ghosts, his classes, especially those of Potions Professor Snape, the letters from the owls, the banquets in the Great Hall, the four-poster bed in his dormitory, the cabin and hunting ground guard Hagrid on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and even more so Sister Elena and the castle people.

It happened to be his twelfth birthday, and the Dursleys obviously didn't remember that.

Of course, Harry didn't have much hope, they never gave him any decent gifts, let alone birthday cakes - what really made Harry feel a little out of control, he suddenly felt as if he had been abandoned by the world.

Over the past month, he has missed his friends immensely, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Elena Caslana, Hermione Granger...... But they didn't seem to want him at all.

It's been a full month since the summer vacation, and no one has written to him, and Malfoy has promised to keep in touch.

His godfather, Sirius Black, seemed to have evaporated from the world, and he hadn't seen him since the Hogwarts trial, except for the occasional letter from a man at school.

Really......

Perhaps, as Professor Snape had said, the godfather his father had sought for him was not very reliable.

Bang!

Bang bang bang!

Just then, Harry heard the strange sound of ping-pong coming from the closet in the room.

"Give it back to Kreacher, you vile bastard!"

"Dobby, Dobby must protect Mr. Potter!"

Sounds like ...... Who's wrestling in it?

Harry frowned in confusion and subconsciously drew his wand, looking at the violently shaking wardrobe with a wary expression.

With the sound of something hitting the wood, the closet door was suddenly slammed open.

Two small humanoid creatures with two large bat-like ears and protruding eyes wrestled and rolled out of them—two, house-elves that had never been seen before, one looking old and one younger.

And the object they fought for was a crumpled parchment letter.

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