Although for the past few days, Harry had hoped that Dumbledore would actually come and pick him up whenever he was awake, but when they actually set off from the privet road, he instinctively felt a little uncomfortable. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 ｉｎｆｏ

Outside of Hogwarts, Harry and his headmaster had never said anything in the strict sense of the word; There was always a desk in the office between them. The last time they saw each other last year often crept into his memories, which also greatly increased Harry's embarrassment; He was roaring so loudly, not to mention smashing some of Dumbledore's most cherished possessions.

Dumbledore, however, looked very, very relaxed.

"Hold your wand and be vigilant, Harry," he said lightly.

"But I guess I'm not allowed to do magic outside the school, Professor?" Harry obediently pulled out his wand.

"If someone attacks you," Dumbledore said, "I allow you to use any anti-evil and cracking spell you can think of. However, I don't think you have to worry about being attacked tonight. ”

"Why, Professor?"

"Because you're with me," Dumbledore said simply, "that's enough, Harry. ”

There is a lot of confidence in the words.

Also, with his strength, if it weren't for the Dark Lord himself, who would have hurt Harry in front of him? The greatest white wizard is not just talking, even Voldemort was extremely jealous of Dumbledore when he was the most powerful more than ten years ago, which is enough to see Dumbledore's strength.

The three of them walked together, and Dumbledore stopped when they reached the end of Privet Road.

"You shouldn't have passed your apparition test yet, have you?" He asked Harry.

"yes," Harry said. "I guess I'll have to be 17 to do it, right?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "So, you need to hold on to my arm, my left arm, if you don't mind - you've noticed that my hand with my wand is a little fragile right now."

Hearing this, Harry hurriedly grabbed Dumbledore's outstretched forearm.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded, then looked at Duten, "Duten, how are you?" ”

"I'm fine, Professor, you can do it at any time."

Du Teng held his wand and stood beside him lightly.

"So, let's go." Harry felt Dumbledore's hand break free of him, and he gripped it hard: then everything went dark; Something squeezed at him violently from all sides; He felt unable to breathe, and seemed to be restrained by a strap of iron to his chest; The eyeballs are almost squeezed into the brain; The eardrum was pressed deep into his skull, and then—he took a deep breath of the cold night air and opened his teary eyes.

He felt like he had just passed through an airtight rubber tube.

It took him a few seconds before he realized that the privet road was gone. He was now standing with Dumbledore and Duten in a deserted village square, with an old war memorial and benches standing in the middle of the square.

Harry's mind kept up with the sensations, and he realized that he had just had made his first apparition in his life.

"Are you okay?" Dumbledore looked at him eagerly and asked, "It does take time to get used to this feeling. ”

"I'm fine," Harry rubbed his ears, which seemed extremely reluctant to leave the privet road. "But I think I still prefer to use a broomstick......"

Dumbledore smiled, tightened the traveling cloak around his neck, and said, "But apparitions are undoubtedly faster and less easily caught by the enemy, all right, let's go this way." He walked briskly past a small empty hotel and several houses, and according to the bell of a nearby church, it was already midnight.

"Tell me, Harry," Dumbledore asked as he walked, then suddenly asked, "Your scars...... Have you hurt lately? ”

Harry subconsciously raised his hand and touched the lightning-shaped mark on his forehead.

"It hasn't hurt in a long time," he said, "and I've always been weird." Now that Voldemort is strong again, I thought my scars would hurt constantly. ”

He stole a glance at Dumbledore and saw that he had a satisfied look on his face.

"I don't think so," Dumbledore said. Voldemort finally realized how dangerous it was for you to invade his thoughts and feelings as much as you wanted. Looks like he's using Occlumency against you. ”

"Oh, that's nothing to complain about," said Harry, who neither wanted to remember those haunting dreams nor the moment of horror that entered Voldemort's mind.

As they spoke, they turned a corner, passing a phone booth and a bus stop.

Harry turned his head to look at Dumbledore again.

"Professor?"

"Harry?"

"Uh-where are we going?"

"Harry, this is the charming village of Baddley Babelton."

"So what are we doing here?"

"Ah, yes, of course, I haven't told you yet," Dumbledore said with a smile, "Well, I've lost count of how many times I've said it in the past few years, but once again we're facing a shortage of teachers. We're here to persuade an old colleague of mine to get back to Hogwarts. ”

"How can I help, Professor?"

"Oh, I think you'll find your part," Dumbledore said vaguely. "Let's go, Harry."

They walked up a steep, narrow path lined with neat houses on both sides. All the windows were dark.

The strange chill that had been entrenched on the privet road for two weeks continued here.

Harry thought of the Dementors, and he looked back, clenching the wand in his pocket.

"Professor, why don't we just apparition to your old colleague's home?"

"Because it's as rude as kicking over someone's door," Dumbledore said, "and etiquette requires us to give our wizarding friends an opportunity to deny us entry." Regardless, most wizarding dwellings use magic protection to deal with apparition apparitions and uninvited guests. For example, Hogwarts—"

"—You can't apparilate in the buildings and grounds of Hogwarts," Harry said immediately, "Hermione told me. ”

"She's right, let's turn left again." The church behind them rang for midnight. Harry wondered why Dumbledore didn't think it was rude to visit his old colleague so late, but now that he had provoked the conversation, he had more pressing questions to ask.

"Professor, I saw in the Daily Prophet that Fudge was dismissed...... "Yes," Dumbledore said, turning into a steep side alley. "He's been replaced, as I'm sure you know, Rufus Scrimgeour, the former head of the Aurors' office."

"Then he... Do you think he's good? Harry asked.

"An interesting question," Dumbledore said. "Of course he's capable. He has a more assertive and tough personality than Connelly. ”

"Yes, but I mean—"

"I know what you mean. Rufus is a man of action who has spent most of his career fighting the Dark Wizards and does not underestimate Voldemort's prowess. Harry waited, but Dumbledore didn't mention the argument between him and Scrimgeour as reported in the Daily Prophet's Daily, and he didn't have the courage to pursue it further, so he had to change the subject.

"And ...... Professor...... I saw the news of Mrs. Bones. ”

"Yes," Dumbledore whispered. "A terrible loss. She is a good witch. From here, I want to think about it...... Oops! "He just used his injured finger to the road.

"Professor, how do you ...... your hands?"

"I'm afraid I don't have time to explain this right now," Dumbledore said. "It's a creepy story, and I wish I could use my hands freely." He smiled at Harry, who knew he didn't mean to blame, and could continue to ask questions.

"Professor- I received an owl in the mail from the Ministry of Magic pamphlet about the safety measures we need to take against the Death Eaters......"

"Yes, I received one myself," Dumbledore still smiled, "do you think it works?" ”

"I don't think so."

"No, I don't think so. For example, you didn't ask me what my favorite flavor of jam was to verify that I was Professor Dumbledore and not an impostor. ”

"I didn't ......," Harry began, not entirely sure if Dumbledore was blaming himself.

"Maybe in the future, Harry, my favorite is the raspberry flavor...... Still, if I were a Death Eater, I'd definitely be researching what his favorite flavor of jam was before pretending to be Dumbledore. ”

"Uh...... yes," said Harry, "well, the letter says a few things about the Yinfeili, but what are they?" The brochure doesn't make it clear. ”

"They're zombies," Dumbledore said calmly. "Enchanted corpses, at the behest of dark wizards. Since Voldemort's last reign in power, it had been a long time since the Infernando had not been present...... Of course, at that time he killed enough people to form a large army. Here we are, Harry, this is ......"

They approached a small, neat stone house in a garden of its own.

Harry was busy digesting the terrible thought about the Infinity and had no extra attention to focus on anything else, but as they reached the gate, Dumbledore suddenly stopped, and Harry crashed into him.

"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Harry's eyes sank as he looked down the well-tended path in front of the door. The front door was not bolted.

Dumbledore scanned the side street back and forth. It looked empty.

"Take out your wand and follow me, Harry," he whispered, "Duten, I'll leave it to you later." ”

"Don't worry, Professor, I'm fine."

Du Teng didn't talk much all the way, it wasn't that he didn't want to say it, but he didn't bother to say it, now he was a little sleepy and wanted to sleep beautifully. If it weren't for Dumbledore's need for his help, and Dumbledore's own strength had been damaged, he would probably still be in the warm bed.

Dumbledore pushed open the courtyard door and walked briskly through the garden path, Harry following him and Duten on the back.

Dumbledore slowly pushed the front door and raised his wand.

"Fluorescent flickering." The tip of Dumbledore's wand was lit up, illuminating a narrow hallway. To the left of the hallway is another open door. Dumbledore raised his wand and walked into the living room, Harry following him closely.

What presented them was a mess.

A cracked old man's clock lay at their feet, its face shattered, and his pendulum lay a little farther away from them, like a sword falling to the ground. Next to it was a piano, and the keys were scattered all over the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier glows on the side. The cushions were all flattened, and feathers leaked out of the side cracks; Smashed glass and porcelain fell everywhere.

Dumbledore held his wand higher so that the light could hit the wall, which was splattered with gooey dark red stuff. Harry gasped softly, and Dumbledore turned to look at him.

"Not pretty, isn't it," he said heavily. "yes, something terrible is happening here." Dumbledore cautiously walked to the middle of the room, carefully examining the remains of the furniture beneath his feet.

Harry followed, looking around, and he suspected in horror that something was hiding behind the piano and the overturned couch, but there was nothing there.

"Maybe there was a fight here...... And then they dragged him away, professor? Harry guessed, trying not to imagine how badly a man would have to be injured to splash so much blood on the halfway point of the wall, and he was afraid he would throw it up.

"I don't think so," Dumbledore whispered, glancing at an overly bloated armchair behind him.

"You mean he ......"

"Still somewhere here? Yes. Without warning, Dumbledore took a lightning step forward, poking the tip of his wand into the seat of the bloated armchair,

Then, suddenly, a loud cry came from Harry's ears, "Ouch! ”

"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore said as he straightened up.

Harry's jaw almost dropped, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

The armchair moved as quickly as a Transformer, and where there was an armchair just now, an obese, bald old man curled up suddenly appeared, rubbing his stomach with his hands, and looking at Dumbledore with his watery eyes sadly.

"There's no need to poke me so hard," he said gruffly, struggling to his feet, "it will hurt." ”

The wand shone on his shiny bald head, bulging eyes, and a large silver beard like a walrus, and the buttons of his chestnut velvet jacket were polished and he wore a lilac silk nightgown.

He straightened up, but only to Dumbledore's chin.

"How did I get exposed?" He staggered to his feet, muttering in his mouth, his hands still rubbing his stomach. He wasn't at all shy about being caught pretending to be an armchair.

"My dear Horace," Dumblean looked happy, "if the Death Eaters did visit you, they would have left the Dark Mark on them." ”

The wizard slapped his fat hand on the broad forehead.

Then the two laughed and hugged each other warmly, like all old friends who had not seen each other for a long time.