I've just been attacked by Dementors, and I'm probably going to be expelled from Hogwarts.

I want to know what's going to happen next and when I'm going to be kicked out of here.

As soon as Harry returned to his desk in his dark bedroom, he copied the words into three different pieces of parchment.

He sent the first letter to Sirius, the second to Ron, and the third to Hermione and Van Lin.

Harry's owl, Hedwig, was now out foraging for food, and the cage on its table was empty.

Harry paced around the bedroom waiting for Hedwig to return, his head as if he had been hit hard, his eyes itching from exhaustion, his mind running from overexcitement.

His back had been aching since carrying Dudley home, the blow to the window and the punch Dudley had left two lumps on Harry's head, which were throbbing now.

Harry paced around, passing the time with anger and frustration, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists firmly.

Every time he walked to the window, he looked with exasperated eyes at the hollow, starlit night sky outside.

The Dementors sent him to him, and Mrs. Feig and Mundungus Fletcher secretly followed him, and was then deferred from Hogwarts and told to attend a hearing at the Ministry of Magic - and worst of all, no one told him what would happen until now.

And the question about that wizard's roaring letter.

Whose voice seemed so horrible and vicious when it echoed in the kitchen? Why did he stay here without any news? Why did everyone treat him like a mischievous child? He was simply told to stay in this house and not to use any magic again.

Harry kicked the school suitcase as he passed by, but far from venting his anger, it only made him feel worse, as he was now, his toes ached violently in addition to the pain in other parts of his body. As Harry limped past the window again, Hedwig flew in through the window like a little ghost, flapping her soft rustling wings.

"When's that time!" Harry said angrily as Hedwig stood on top of the cage, "Put that thing down, I've got a job for you to do!" Hedwig had a dead frog in her mouth and stared at Harry with its large, round, amber eyes full of reproach.

"Come here," said Harry, picking up the three pieces of parchment and a leather belt and rolling the letter and tying it to Hedwig's feet. "Send these directly to Sirius, Ron, Verlin, and Hermione, and don't come back until you get a long enough reply. If you do, keep pecking them until they write a response of considerable length. Got it?"

Hedwig made a disgruntled voice, still holding the frog in her mouth.

"Let's go, then," Harry said. She set off immediately.

As Hedwig flew away, Harry collapsed on the bed, staring straight at the pitch-black ceiling. Among other painful feelings, he now felt guilty for treating Hedwig so roughly.

Hedwig was his only friend at 4 Privet Road.

Harry decided to make it up to Hedwig when she returned with Sirius, Ron, Van Lin, and Hermione's reply.

They'll hear back soon: there's no way they're going to ignore the Dementors' attack. Thanks to his quick response to the Ministry of Magic, perhaps tomorrow he will wake up with three swollen envelopes filled with all sorts of sympathies and plans.

With this comforting thought, drowsiness swept over Harry, and all further thoughts fell silent.

But Hedwig didn't come back the next morning, and Harry stayed in the bedroom all day, only going to the bathroom.

Three times that day, Aunt Penny handed food in through the same cat hole that Uncle Vernon had installed three years earlier.

Every time Harry heard his aunt approaching, he tried to ask about the wizard's yelling letter, but each time it was as if he were asking the doorknob.

Other than that, the Dursleys let him stay in the bedroom. Harry couldn't see what power being around them would give him, nothing but the possibility of making him angrier and casting more illegal magic.

This went on for three days. Harry was filled with excess energy, which made him unable to solve anything, and every time he paced around his bedroom he felt extremely angry at the people who had thrown him at this filthy, stuffy place, and every once in a while he would lie in bed for an hour, staring numbly into the air, thinking about the Ministry of Magic hearings with a terrifying pain.

What if their ruling was against him, what if he was expelled and his wand was broken in two, what could he do? where could he go? he couldn't go back to the days when he lived with the Dursleys every day, he was not like he was in the past, he knew another world to which he really belonged.

Maybe he could move into Sirius's house, as Sirius had suggested a year ago when he cleared his name at Dumbledore's office?

But Harry was still underage, would he be allowed to live alone with his godfather, or would the place he was going to decide where he went?

Or maybe his violation of international witchcraft secrecy was serious enough to qualify for a room in Azkaban?

Whenever these thoughts came to him, Harry always slid off the bed and paced the bedroom again.

On the fourth night of Hedwig's departure, when Uncle Vernon entered the bedroom, Harry was at his most indifferent, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his exhausted mind blank.

Harry looked at him slowly. Uncle Vernon was dressed in his finest clothes, and had an extremely pretentious expression on his face.

"We're getting ready to go out?"

"Excuse me?"

"We—let's put it this way, your aunt, Dudley, and I are getting ready to go out. ”

"Good," Harry said sluggishly, his eyes returning to the ceiling.

"You are not allowed to leave the bedroom when we are out. ”

"No problem. ”

"You are not allowed to touch the TV, the stereo or any property that belongs to us. ”

"Yes. ”

"You're not allowed to steal food from the fridge. ”

"Okay. ”

"I'll lock your door. ”

"Just do it. ”

Uncle Vernon stared at Harry, visibly suspicious of the lack of arguing, and then he slammed out of the room and closed the door behind him. Harry heard the sound of keys turning in the keyhole, and the heavy footsteps of Uncle Vernon coming downstairs.

A few minutes later, he heard the garage door open, the roar of the engine, and finally the literal sound of a car driving onto the road. There was no particular feeling about the Dursleys' departure from Harry.

It doesn't make any difference to him whether they're at home or not. He didn't even pick himself up and turn on the bedroom light.

The room around him grew darker as Harry lay in bed listening to the night's sounds through the window that never closed, and he was just waiting for a blessed moment when Hedwig would return.

The empty house creaked around Harry. The pipes make a gurgling sound.

Harry lay on the bed in a semi-comatose state of mind that didn't want to do anything, forgetting his pain for a moment. Then, distinctly, he heard a crash from the kitchen below. He sat up straight and listened carefully.

There was no way the Dursleys would return, it was too short, and he would hear their car anyway.

There was silence below for a few seconds, and then a voice rang out.

His idea was that the Night Thieves were coming, and his feet slipped off the bed - but the second moment he realized that the Night Thieves would lower their voices and that whoever was moving around the kitchen would certainly not do so to get themselves in trouble.

Harry grabbed his wand from the table next to his bed and stood facing the bedroom door, listening as best he could.

The next moment, his bedroom door opened with a loud click of the lock, and Harry jumped.

Harry stood still, staring through the open door into the dark staircase landing, pricking up his ears to hear more, but no one came up. He hesitated, then moved quickly and quietly out of the room, to the top of the stairs.

His heart suddenly rose to his throat.

Someone was standing in the shadows of the living room downstairs, their silhouettes reflected in the light of the street lamps coming through the frosted glass, and as far as he could see, there were about eight or nine people, looking up at him.

"Lower your wand before you pop someone's eyes," a deep voice growled. Harry's heart was beating uncontrollably. He recognized the voice, but he didn't lower his wand.

"Is it Professor Moody?" he asked, uncertain. "I don't know what the professor," replied the voice, "I've never taught you anything, have I? Come down, come here, and we're going to see you." ”

Harry lowered his wand slightly, but grasped it without letting up, and didn't move his feet. He had every reason to be suspicious. The guy he thought was Mad-Eye Moody in the last nine months was not Moody at all, but an impostor, twice to be exact. Two impostors, and worse, he also tried to kill Harry before he was exposed.

But before Harry could decide on his next move, another slightly hoarse voice reached upstairs.

"It's all right, Harry. We're here to take you away. ”

Harry's heart was pounding. He recognized the same voice, even though he hadn't heard it in over a year.

"Professor Lupin?" he asked incredulously, "is that you?"

"Why are we standing in the dark?" said a third, completely unfamiliar voice of a woman, "Lumos!"

A wand flashed and the light of magic illuminated the living room.

Harry blinked. The people below huddled at the foot of the stairs, staring intently at Harry, and some even raised their heads like Scottish herrings to get a better look.

Remus Lupin was closest to Harry.

"I don't need to, Tonks, you know, I can see it. A voice rang out that couldn't be more familiar, and it made Harry a little excited.

"Van Lin, is that you?" said Harry.

"Oh, if nothing else, Harry, I think you should pack your bags and hand them over to me, we should go. Van Lin said with a smile, and squeezed up the hallway.

"Oh, he looks exactly like I thought he would," said the witch who spoke, holding her wand that glowed high up.

Tonks?

She had a pale face, dark and shiny eyes, and short, pointed hair that was purple and took on a furious shade.

"Merlin's Beard ......"

"Yes, I know what you mean, Ramos," spoke a balding black wizard, who stood farthest behind him—with a deep, slow voice and a golden ring in his ear—

"He looks like James. ”

"Except for the eyes," spoke a panting, gray-haired old wizard standing in the back, "those were Lily's eyes. ”

Mad-Eyed Moody, the old man with long, gray hair and a large missing nose, was looking at Harry suspiciously through his incompatible eyes.

One of his eyes was small, black, bead-like, while the other was large, round, and iron-blue—the one that could see through walls, doors, and the back of Moody's own head.

"Are you pretty sure it's him, Lupin?" he growled, "and it would be nice if we brought back some damn imitator." We should ask him questions that only the real Potter knows. Otherwise, unless someone brought the Veritaslam Elixir. ”

"Harry, what shape does your Patronus spell take?" asked Lupin, "a stag." Harry said nervously.

"That's him, Moody. Lupin replied.

"You should trust me, Professor Moody, I lived with him for four years, in a dormitory. Van Lin said helplessly, "And, at the Dursley's house, ......"

"Don't let your guard down, boy, although you say that your abilities are good, but you still lack exercise, otherwise Dumbledore wouldn't have brought you here......"

"Is your trip over?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"I'll explain to you later, after you had an accident, Dumbledore called everyone back. Van Lin said helplessly, "Let's go, we're going to a place, Hermione and Ron are there." ”

"Good. Harry nodded hurriedly, "It's a pleasure to see you, Van Lin. ”

"Me too, go down first, Hedwig is already waiting for you. ”

Harry swallowed.

Everyone was still staring at him curiously, and Harry walked down the stairs, tucking his wand into the back pocket of his jeans as he stepped forward.

"Don't put your wand there, kid!" roared Moody, "what if it ignites? Wizards better than you will burn their buttocks, you know!"

"Do you know who burned their hips?" the purple-haired witch asked Mad-Eye Moody with interest.

"It's none of your business, you just need to get your wand out of your ass pocket!" Moody yelled, "it's basic wand security, and no one is going to bother with it." ”

"But he tripped on the way to the kitchen, and I saw it!"

When Moody saw the witch roll her eyes to the ceiling, he added angrily.

Lupin held out his hand and shook Harry's hand. "How are you?" he asked, looking at Harry from a close distance.

"I'm fine. Harry said. "It's just a little ......"