Chapter 606 Night Mission

London, Hampstead.

Hermione leaned on a chair in front of the bedroom window, her hair spread over her shoulders, holding a beautifully bound book in her hands, her expression focused. Every time she read a chapter and turned the page, she would look up and look outside slowly. As the sky dims, look at the orange street lights that gradually light up on both sides of the street.

There are several magic books neatly stacked on the desk, as well as a piece of parchment paper, with some words written on it in thin, sideways handwriting:

"Dear Loren and Hermione:

If it is convenient for you, I will visit Hampstead at nine o'clock this Friday night. I have two important and difficult things to do. I will be very happy if I can get your help. Details will be discussed when we meet.

See you on Friday

Albus Dumbledore"

The bedside alarm clock made a ticking sound, and Hermione turned another page in the book in her hand. She glanced at the alarm clock, and there was still a quarter of an hour before nine o'clock.

Loren was lying on her bed reading recent newspapers. One of them stood out, with a bold and black title: The Hidden Secret!

"At 9 a.m. GMT on December 29, the Ministry of Magic and Knockturn Alley were attacked by Death Eaters... Our reporter interviewed an unnamed memory canceller who was seriously injured by this incident. Out of danger only two days ago, he said as he left St Mungo's Hospital for the Magical Wounded: "We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything. ""

"Well……"

If you don't want to reveal your name, you will point out the person's occupation and discharge time. Isn't this a deliberate revenge by the reporter?

Loren's expression was a little subtle, he smoothed the newspaper and continued to flip through it.

"According to internal information from our reporter, the target of this mysterious attack and riot is the Prophecy Hall in the Department of Mysteries... Although so far, the spokesperson of the Ministry of Magic still refuses to confirm the existence of such a place, but the magical world More and more people believe that the mysterious man was trying to steal a prophecy ball...

The prophecy ball was damaged in this attack and cannot be restored for the time being. The content is unknown... According to many wizards' speculations, the content of the prophecy is related to Harry Potter. As the only person who survived the killing curse of the mysterious man, the prophecy stated Only Harry Potter can rid the wizarding world of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...

Some people even call Potter - the savior..."

Loren glanced at the photo published at the bottom of the report. It was a photo of Harry when he participated in the tournament last year. It looked silly.

Moving his gaze to the right, the second photo was larger and showed a black-and-white photo of a middle-aged man waving to the camera. He had thick hair like a lion's hair and a savage and ferocious face.

"The new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, recently delivered a speech. The Ministry of Magic is about to take some new tough measures to ensure that students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry return to school safely after the holidays. According to insiders, these measures include Some defensive magic and spells, a series of breaking spells and a squad of Aurors sent to protect Hogwarts..."

Sandwiched between a stack of newspapers was a purple pamphlet with bold text printed on it: "Published with permission from the Ministry of Magic - Protecting You and Your Family from the Dark Arts: The wizarding world is currently affected by certain unmentionable threats. threats, the Ministry of Magic recommends that following the following simple safety guidelines will help protect yourself, your family and your home from attacks..."

Loren browsed through it, and found that it was basically useless nonsense, including not leaving home alone, trying to get home before dark, checking the convenience measures around the house, carefully observing the behavior of relatives and friends around you, and developing a habit of verifying identity. Good habits, beware of the Imperius Curse and Polyjuice Potion...

Loren closed the newspaper and hummed, stretched his waist lazily, turned over and rolled the sheets and quilt into a mess.

Hermione's bed was very soft and smelled similar to her body, making it very comfortable to sleep on.

"Hermione, do you think Dumbledore will be late?"

"Won't."

"Why?"

"Because they're already here."

Hermione, who was sitting by the window, put down the book in her hand, carefully placed the leaf bookmark, closed the page, and turned to face the window. At this time, the alarm clock pointed to nine o'clock exactly, and the street lights outside the window quietly went out.

Loren climbed up slowly, leaned next to her shoulder and looked out. Two figures, one tall and one short, were walking along the garden path. The taller one was wearing a traveling cloak, and the shorter one was wearing a thick down jacket.

After putting on her slippers and pushing the door downstairs, she heard Dumbledore's deep voice: "Good evening, Mrs. Granger, you are still so beautiful, Mr. Bates, long time no see. Mr. Granger, you look nothing like that." Surprised, I believe Hermione and Loren must have told you that I would come to pick them up, right?"

"Yes, Principal Dumbledore, they mentioned, come in and sit for a while..."

Dumbledore wore a pointed hat, crescent-shaped glasses on his aquiline nose, and a traveling cloak. It was really inconvenient to be seen by nearby neighbors. He walked in with a smile, pointed to the person wearing a thick down jacket next to him and introduced : "This is Harry, Hermione and Loren's classmates."

"Yes, Harry Potter, this is not the first time we have met."

Bates patted him on the shoulder and pointed to the two people walking downstairs: "Harry, Loren probably has a lot to say to you. Can we talk to the principal alone?"

"Of course, sir!"

The adults over there gathered together and started to chat in a low voice. Loren could guess what they were talking about without thinking. He pulled Harry to sit on the sofa and greeted him with a smile: "Good evening, Savior Star!"

Harry said unhappily: "Don't tease me, Loren, those newspapers don't know the truth of the matter at all, don't you know it?"

It was like this when he was at the Black Mansion. George and Fred had replaced his name with Savior Star. From the time he got up at breakfast, he would say "Good morning, Savior Star", "Savior Star, pass me the milk", "Savior Star, you didn't wash your eye boogers clean"...

He was a little nervous when he heard this word now.

Hermione also smiled: "Let's talk about business, Harry, do you know what the two things mentioned in Dumbledore's letter are?"

"I know no more than you..." Harry shook his head, "Dumbledore just picked me up from Grimmauld Place ten minutes ago."

"Is that so..."

Loren stared at the parents and teachers of the students who were talking behind him, showing a thoughtful look. He vaguely guessed what the specific matter was.

Ten minutes later, Principal Dumbledore finally ended the conversation with the parents, stood up and smiled at Loren and the others, and uttered his personal metaphor:

"Okay, dear children, let's go into the night and chase that frivolous and seductive seductress - an exciting adventure."

...

On the roadside of an abandoned village yard, the cold air at night made a few explosions, and the figures of several people appeared out of thin air in the open space.

"Ahem..."

Harry gasped heavily, he felt that he was being squeezed from all directions, his eyeballs were squeezed and moved around, his eardrums were stretched, and his chest seemed to be tightly strangled by several iron hoops, as if he was squeezed out of a very narrow rubber tube, and it took a few seconds to recover.

"This transfer distance is relatively long, it is normal to feel a little uncomfortable, adjust your breathing and slowly adapt." Dumbledore comforted slowly.

"Why are they okay?" Harry opened his tearful eyes and looked at the two people next to him who were indifferent with some indignation.

Loren and Hermione looked at each other, one with an innocent expression, the other spread out his palm: "Apparition, a very convenient magic..."

Damn, is this a despicable top student?

Harry rubbed his ears to calm the air pressure inside and outside the eardrums. He felt that his ears seemed to leave London reluctantly: "I still prefer flying on a broom."

Several people around him laughed when they heard this. Dumbledore wrapped his travel cloak tightly around his neck: "This way, children, we may be in a hurry."

The group took brisk steps, deep and shallow steps on the snow, and the soft rustling sound echoed in the night.

"Harry, has your scar hurt recently?"

"No."

Harry subconsciously touched the scar on his forehead, "I also find it strange. Voldemort must be hysterical and very excited after suffering such a blow. I thought the scar would always be burning."

"Want to hear my thoughts?"

Dumbledore showed a satisfied look: "After this blow, Voldemort seems to realize that it is very dangerous for you to exchange emotions and thoughts with each other. If I guess correctly, he is now using brain closure on you."

"Well, I wish it would happen."

Dumbledore smiled: "Loren, have you made any progress in the study of time and space?"

Loren was not surprised. Some things can be hidden from the Ministry of Magic, but they can definitely not be hidden from the eyes of the headmaster: "There is no progress in the principles of magic, but combined with the natural sciences of Muggles, I have learned a lot of unexpected knowledge."

"I am looking forward to it. ”

“…”

The cold air lingering in the night blew on her cheeks. Hermione held the hand of the person next to her and asked softly, "Professor, I saw in the Daily Prophet that Fudge has stepped down. His successor is Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour. What kind of person is he?"

"I know what you are worried about. Don't worry. He is different from Fudge..." Dumbledore introduced patiently, "Rufus was a very good Auror when he was young. He spent most of his first half of his life fighting against evil dark wizards. He can be said to be a time-tested warrior with a tough stance and decisive actions. This achievement allowed him to take over smoothly. I believe he will not be corrupted by wealth and power..."

In fact, the middle and high-level officials of the Ministry of Magic are more reliable than they thought. After all, most of them came out of the last wizard war. The iron-blooded Crouch, Mad-Eye Moody, the hard-line Scrimgeour, and the dedicated Amelia Bones, all have honors.

It's just that Umbridge and Fudge are too dark, which makes the Ministry of Magic look too unbearable.

Loren looked up at the clock outside the church in front of him. It was a quarter to ten.

As they walked and talked, it was not quite what Hermione expected. Instead of walking into a magical village, they walked on the Muggle streets, passing by a few houses in a tavern with little business, turning a corner, passing a telephone booth and a bus shelter.

When they walked into a Muggle community, Hermione couldn't help but turned her head to look at Dumbledore: "Professor, where is this?"

"Hmm... the charming village of Badley Barberton, Hermione."

"What are we doing here?"

"Oh, by the way, I haven't told you yet." Dumbledore shook his head, "Alas... I can't remember how many times I have said this in recent years, but there is no way. Now we are short of two teachers. We are here to persuade one of my retired colleagues to come back to work and return to Hogwarts."

"How can we help, sir?"

"Oh, I think we can be of use to you. Come with me..." Dumbledore was vague.

Walking through the straight and narrow streets, entering a villa located in a neat garden, at the end of the well-maintained path, the scene of the porch is heartbreaking-

The hinges of the front door were broken and hanging to the side, and the door was half-closed. Walking into the house, the scene in the living room was even more messy, the broken chandelier reflected the broken light, the grandfather clock was smashed to the ground, the clock face was broken, the pendulum fell to the side, the piano was overturned on the ground, the keys were scattered everywhere, the torn cloth strips were scattered on the ground, the cotton and down were outside, and the broken glass and broken porcelain pieces were broken everywhere.

There were bloodstains splattered on the walls and carpets, and the bright red had turned black.

Harry took a breath, fearing that he would find the shadow of a corpse in any corner: "It seems that a terrorist attack has occurred here. We are already late, right?"

"It doesn't look good, does it?" Dumbledore said in a flat tone, and walked casually to the middle of the room, carefully observing the broken fragments at his feet.

Loren stared at an overturned armchair with interest.

Hermione was also a little worried, but she was relieved when she saw the expressions of Loren and Dumbledore.

"But the truth is often different from what we see..."

Dumbledore followed Loren's line of sight, and a smile rose at the corner of his mouth. He pretended to walk into the bulging armchair casually, quietly bent his elbows and raised his wand, silently, and then stabbed it down suddenly.

"Ouch!" The chair screamed miserably and shook violently.

"Good evening, Horace." Dumbledore stood up again beside him, with a smile in his tone.

The armchair quickly spun, and in the blink of an eye, a bald fat old man squatted there. He rubbed his belly, squinted a painful, tearful eye and looked at Dumbledore, and said angrily:

"You didn't have to poke me so hard with your wand, it hurts so much!"

The illuminating spell shone on his shiny bald head, slightly bulging eyes, and silver-white beard that was much shorter than Dumbledore's.

He staggered to his feet, his lavender velvet pajamas shiny and soft. Although he asked Dumbledore, his eyes were staring at Loren: "How did you find me?"

"Uh..." Loren shrugged his shoulders, "The smell of potion on you is too strong, my nose can hardly ignore it."

Horace Slughorn's eyes lit up immediately.