"Teacher, I, Marca McLean, am a student who has received your magical inheritance, so I'll leave this Mr. Riddle to deal with!"

To be honest, not many people heard this sentence that night, but this kind of thing can only be particularly convinced by word of mouth.

In short, it was Maca and his teacher Gilderoy Lockhart who drove out Voldemort, but this is a reality in plain sight, and there is no doubt about it.

The most impressive thing that night was the sudden appearance of Maca, and almost everyone fixed their memories on the ice-blue pillar of light that broke through the sky.

As for what happened after that, it was secondary.

There is only one thing that people need to understand, and that is - after Dumbledore, everyone has a new reliance, and his name is Gilderoy Lockhart!

How strong is he, you ask? Joke! The students he taught are all so strong, and he himself must be even stronger!

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

This time, Mr. Lovegood's "Singing Against the Tune" published the event earlier than the Daily Prophet, and with the publicity of Maca's audio-visual meeting, Mr. Lovegood really made a lot of money this time.

Although this is inseparable from Maca's prior reminder, Mr. Lovegood's trust has also brought him a lot of "encouragement".

Voldemort has retreated strategically this time, but it is still unknown when he will return next time.

However, although Voldemort, who has been frustrated twice in a row, seems to be a lot quieter, there are no big things, but small things are still going on, and the Order of the Phoenix has been operating more often recently 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 removed, even if it is temporarily stabilized on the surface, what should be faced will eventually be faced.

Thankfully, because of Maca's audio-visual program, a large number of Dark Wizards and Death Eaters were recaptured, and the bad effects of the previous prisoners escaping from prison were suddenly reduced a lot.

"It's getting hotter and hotter!"

Maca put down the quill and sighed, picked up the white ** medicine bottle on the table again, and poured two drops under her feet. Suddenly, a faint chill rose up, and a chill spread all over the body.

"Oh, comfort!"

……

The hottest day since summer is finally coming to an end.

After that night, Harry returned to the Dursleys and lived his usual boring Muggle life again. The range of his activities remained unchanged, except for his own room, in fact, only the bush of hydrangeas outside the window was left.

What he saw and heard that night had a great impact on Harry. No, it had a big impact on everyone, and Hermione and Ron were taken aback.

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

"Thankfully, that kid finally didn't come to probe his brain...... Uh, where the hell did he go? ”

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

"I don't know," said Aunt Petunia indifferently, "not at home anyway." ”

This again caused Uncle Vernon to grunt in displeasure.

"That kid actually likes to watch the news!" "I'd like to know what he's going to do." A normal little ghost, who cares about the news! Dudley doesn't know anything about current affairs, and I suspect he doesn't even know who the prime minister is! Hell, there's no way we've got anything to do with people like them in our news—"

"Vernon, shhhhhhh Aunt Penny said, "The window is open!" ”

"Oh! Yes...... I'm sorry, dear. ”

The Dursleys finally stopped talking.

Harry listened to a short commercial for a nutritious breakfast of fruit bran while looking at Mrs. Figg, an eccentric old lady with a lot of cats who lived on Wisteria Road not far from here.

She was walking slowly, frowning, words in her mouth.

Harry thought to himself that he was glad he was hiding behind the bushes, for Mrs. Figg had recently come across Harry on the street and had invited him over for tea.

Not long after, she turned the corner and disappeared.

At this time, Uncle Vernon's voice floated out of the window again: "Little Dudley went out for tea?" ”

"Went to Poches's house." Aunt Petunia said lovingly, "He's made so many friends, and everyone likes him so much!" ”

Harry struggled to control himself so that he didn't snort through his nose.

The two of them were surprisingly stupid in their treatment of their precious son, Dudley. Dudley made up the stupid lie every night during the summer when he went to the house of one of his fox friends for tea, and they believed it!

Harry knew very well that Dudley hadn't gone anywhere for tea at all, and that he and his buddies were destroying public property at the playground every night, smoking on street corners, and throwing stones at passing cars and children.

Harry had seen them do this when he walked in Little Whitking at night.

He spent most of the summer wandering the streets, picking up newspapers from garbage bins along the way and flipping through them—which, to be honest, was much more comfortable than staying at Dursley's house all the time.

The opening song of the seven o'clock news reached Harry's ears, and he quickly pricked up his ears and listened with a little nervousness.

“…… Spanish baggage handlers' strike enters second week, with a large number of holidaymakers stranded at the airport......"

"If it were me, I'd let them enjoy a nap for the rest of their lives." As soon as the newscaster's words fell, Uncle Vernon yelled viciously, but it didn't matter, a stone had fallen to Harry in the flowerbed outside.

If something does happen, it's sure to be the headlines, with deaths and disasters far more important than holidaymakers stranded at the airport.

He slowly breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at the clear blue sky.

Almost every day of the summer has been like this: nervousness, anticipation, temporary relief, and then the strings tighten little by little.

And a question is becoming more and more urgent: why hasn't anything happened yet?

He continued to listen, fearing that if there were some obscure clues, the Muggles had not yet figured out what was going on—such as someone missing for unknown reasons, or a strange accident.

But the news of the porters' strike was followed by drought in the south-east, then a helicopter that nearly crashed in a field in Surrey, and then a famous actress divorcing her famous husband.

The Dursleys' complaints were as fierce and silly as ever, but Harry was more at ease with the bland news.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, as the sunset in the sky became a little harsh.

"Finally, Bunge the Budge has found a new way to stay cool this summer! It lives in Bunge, Barnsley's Five Feather Street, and learned to water ski! Mary Dorkin has you covered. ”

Voldemort has indeed returned, and he even saw it with his own eyes at the audio-visual meeting! However, nothing bad seemed to happen in the Muggle world.

Is it true that nothing happened? Or is it ...... In fact, what happened to the accident, but it was covered up by the British Ministry of Magic?

Now that we've talked about budgie water skiing, it doesn't seem like there's going to be any more news worth listening to. He carefully rolled over, crawled up on his knees and elbows, prepared his hands and feet and crawled away from the window.

However, he dared to say that he had just climbed two inches!

But at such a distance of two inches, several things happened one after another, and it was really too late and too fast.

Only a loud, echoing pop was heard, like a gunshot, piercing the sleepy silence; A cat jumped out from under a parked car and disappeared; There was a scream, a curse, and the sound of broken porcelain in the living room of the Dursleys.

Harry seemed to have been waiting for the signal, and he jerked to his feet, pulling a thin wooden wand from his jeans pocket like a sword—but before he could fully straighten up, his head hit the open window of the Dursleys. There was a thud, and Aunt Petunia screamed even louder.

Harry was so pained that his head had been split in half, and tears welled up in his eyes.

He shook his body and looked down the street, trying to make out his blurred vision to make out where the sound was coming from.

But as soon as he could barely stand upright, two large fuchsia hands reached out of the open window and grabbed him by the throat.

"Put it away—put it away—that stick!" Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's ear and yelled, "Hurry up! Don't let — people — see it! ”

"Let it go...... Open...... I! Harry gasped.

They scuffled for a few seconds, and Harry used his left hand to break his uncle's sausage-thick fingers, his right hand still firmly holding the raised wand.

Then, Harry's already painful head thrust into a heart-piercing pain.

Uncle Vernon let go of Harry with a yell, as if he had been electrocuted. It was as if an invisible force was surging inside his nephew, making it impossible for him to catch him.

Harry panted and threw himself into the hydrangeas, then straightened up and looked around.

He couldn't tell where the bang was coming from, but there were a few faces poking out of the various windows around him. Harry quickly tucked his wand into his jeans and pretended nothing was wrong.

"What a charming night!" Uncle Vernon waved at his wife, who was staring out from behind the mesh curtain, and said loudly, "Did you hear the sound of the car backfire?" It scared Penny and me a lot! ”

He had that ugly, crazy smile on his face until the curious neighbors disappeared from their various windows.

His smile suddenly turned into a sinister scorn, and he motioned for Harry to return to him.

Harry took a few steps forward, carefully stopping in time to prevent Uncle Vernon's outstretched hands from grabbing his throat again.

"What the hell are you with, boy?" Uncle Vernon asked in a deep voice trembling with anger.

"Uh...... Excuse me, excuse me...... Do you know how to get around Hogwarts? Suddenly, a soft, cringing voice rang out from behind Harry, "...... I seem to ...... Lost. ”