"Because you're ......with us," Van Lin said with some arrogance, "Oh, of course, it's mainly Dumbledore, but, Harry, Dudley...... He didn't do anything to you. ”

"Oh, of course. Harry nodded, "Actually, he's scared to death for me right now." ”

"Afraid you're going to die?" Van Lin thought it was a little amused when he remembered Dudley's fat face and trembling.

"But, what do you guys say, I mean Dumbledore didn't tell me......"

"We're coming to pick you up, and of course, we're doing some business. Van Lin said, "You'll know when you arrive." ”

This made Harry a little unconvinced, in his opinion, picking him up was the way to go, right?

Of course, if Dumbledore was still in that dying state, you know, in the original, Harry didn't even have the concept of a Horcrux.

However, a few people were talking, and before they knew it, they had come to the end of the privet road.

"Oh, by the way," Dumbledore seemed to have just remembered something, "you shouldn't have passed your apparition test yet, right?" he said.

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

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "So, you need to hold on tightly to my arm, my left arm, if you don't mind. ”

Harry gripped Dumbledore's outstretched forearm.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "So, let's go. ”

Harry felt Dumbledore's hand break free of him, and he gripped it hard: then everything went dark, something was squeezing at him from all sides, he felt like he couldn't breathe, it seemed like he was being bound by a strap of iron on his chest, his eyeballs were about to be squeezed into his head, his eardrums were 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. Now he, Dumbledore and Van Lin were standing 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 alright?" Dumbledore asked, looking eagerly at him, "It does take time to get used to it. ”

"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. ”

"Oh yes, but apparition is more convenient. "It's not a good taste, but it's a natural way to remember it and ...... body."

"Let the body remember, oh, I guess I might not be quite willing to do that. ”

"Of course, I'll help you, this semester will begin......" Van Lin said nonchalantly.

Dumbledore smiled, tightening the travel cloak around his neck and saying, "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 said. "Your scars...... Did it hurt?"

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

"It didn't hurt," 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 noticed 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. They turned a corner, passing by 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. "Well, I've lost count of how many times I've said it over the 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. ”

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.

This reminded Harry of the Dementors, and he looked back and clenched 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. "Etiquette asks us to offer 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 or grounds of Hogwarts," Harry said immediately.

"Oh yes, in fact, there is nothing wrong with this, I believe Van Lin also understands it very well. Dumbledore said, "Now, though, let's turn right." ”

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 Scrimgeur, the former head of the Aurors' office. ”

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

"An interesting question," Dumbledore said. "His appointment didn't really have a big impact on us, but in fact, some of his and my ideas, as the newspaper said, ......"

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," Harry said. "Well, that letter says something about the Yin Corps, but what are they that we've seen before...... that brochure doesn't make it clear. ”

"Oh, yes, the ones you saw at the beach, they're zombies," Dumbledore said calmly. "Enchanted corpses, at the behest of dark wizards. Since Voldemort's last reign in power, the Corpse has not been seen for a long time...... 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 horrible thought about the corpse and had no extra attention to focus on anything else, but as they reached the gate, Dumbledore suddenly stopped, and Harry bumped 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.

"Has anyone been here?" said Vanlin cautiously, "but, there's no obvious sense of magic, Professor. ”

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

"Take out your wands and follow me," he whispered. He pushed open the courtyard door and walked briskly through the garden path, Harry following closely behind him, and Van Lin walking last, cautiously looking around.

Dumbledore slowly pushed the front door and raised his wand.

"Fluorescent flickering. The tip of Dumbledore's wand 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 flattened, feathers leaking out of the side cracks, and 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, horrified as he suspected that something was hidden 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 splatter so much blood on the halfway of the wall.

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

"Professor, these blood ......" Van Lin frowned, he had more contact with Rutherford, and Van Lin became sensitive to blood.

"I think there's something still here, but ......," Van Lin hesitated, "I don't think it's a Death Eater, there's something missing here, Professor." ”

"Yes, he's still somewhere here. ”

Without any prior warning, Dumbledore swooped down and poked the tip of his wand into the seat of the bloated armchair, only to hear a loud cry, "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Hores," Dumbledore said, straightening up.

Harry's jaw almost dropped. Where an armchair had been set up just a moment ago, a fat, 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's going to 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 as he mouthed, his hands still rubbing his stomach. He wasn't at all shy about being caught pretending to be an armchair.

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

The wizard slapped his fat hand on the broad forehead. "Dark mark," he muttered. "I know what's wrong...... Ah yes. But I didn't have time to conjure that. I just made one last bit of disguise before you came in. ”

He sighed heavily, and moved the end of his beard.

"Do you want me to clean up for you?" said Dumbledore politely.

"Please," he said. They stood back to back, a tall and lanky wizard and a stocky wizard, waving their wands in the same motion. The furniture flew back to its original place, the ornaments were restored in mid-air, the feathers sprinted into their cushions at a rapid pace, the torn books returned to the shelves and were restored, the oil lamps flew high to the table next to them and were lit up again, a mass of shards of silver picture frames flew through the room in a glimmer and then fell intact to the table and turned to its old gray appearance, cracks and chips were missing from all parts of the room, and blood was swept away from the walls.

"By the way, what is that blood?" said Dumbledore, his voice drowning out the chiming of the resurrected old clock.

"Dragon's blood on the wall," cried the wizard named Hores, and with a deafening grinding and crisp thud, the chandelier returned to the ceiling on its own and tightened the screws. The piano slammed at the end, and then everything went silent.

"Yes, dragon's blood," the wizard repeated to himself, "my last bottle is now sky-high. However, this one can be used again. He staggered over and removed a small crystal bottle from the top of the tryboard, then held it up to the light to inspect the viscous liquid inside.

"Hmm. Yet. ”