After HP shared the dream, Lao Fu was conquered by me

"Harry, Harry!" The Weasley twins appeared behind Harry, each holding a large bag.

"Wait!" Harry stopped quickly. "Fred, George, what are you holding in your hands?"

"They are all good things. If that Muggle family treats you the same way as before, you can take any one of them out to make them suffer. And this does not count as using magic outside of school~"

Fred said with a sly grin, and George echoed him.

"But Dumbledore won't let me take these home, right, Lamia?" Harry had a large bag of things stuffed into his hands, and he was looking for Lamia in a daze. They were just walking together, and in the blink of an eye, Lamia disappeared.

Lamia didn't leave. She just turned into a bat and crawled into Harry's coat. She didn't intend to come out, even if Harry needed her to say something at this time.

"Hold it, Harry! Otherwise I will cast a few spells on you. You know, I am older than you and know a lot of powerful spells." George threatened Harry, and the three of them laughed happily.

"Okay, thank you." Harry put the big bag into his bag with emotion, and then he saw the bag of gold Galleons. After thinking about it for a while, Harry smiled.

"George, Fred, these gold Galleons are for you. Consider it as me buying your props." Harry said and threw the bag over.

"No, we can't take it. Mom will be angry. Besides, you earned this by risking your life." Fred put the bag back seriously. How could he take the money that Harry earned by risking his life?

"Take it now," he said sternly, "or I'll cast a curse on you. I know a few pretty powerful curses now. Just consider it a favor, okay? Buy Ron another dress robe and tell him it's from you."

Harry's words silenced the Weasley twins. Everyone knew their family conditions, and Ron hadn't had his own new robes for a long time.

Without waiting for the twins to say another word, Harry left the compartment and quickly walked out with his luggage.

Uncle Vernon was waiting for Harry outside the grille, his face full of reluctance. Mrs. Weasley was standing near him, looking at Uncle Vernon with contempt.

As soon as Harry came out, Mrs. Weasley came over and hugged him and whispered in his ear, "Lamia told me that Dumbledore will ask you to come to our house in the summer. Keep in touch, Harry."

"Goodbye, Harry," said Ron, patting him on the back.

"Goodbye, Harry!" said Hermione, and then she patted Harry's hat as if by accident, shaking the Lamia inside to sway back and forth.

"Harry, thank you," George murmured, and Fred nodded vigorously beside him. They finally accepted Harry's kindness.

Harry winked at them, then turned to Uncle Vernon and followed him silently out of the station.

There was nothing to worry about now, and Harry was not worried about what would happen at the Dursleys' house later, as he believed Lamia would be with him.

The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close, and a sleepy silence fell over the large, square houses of Privet Drive.

The usually shiny cars were now parked in the driveway, looking dusty. The once lush green grass had turned brown because the garden hoses had been banned due to the drought.

The residents of Privet Drive's usual pastimes were cleaning cars and mowing lawns. Now they can't do either of these things, so they have to hide in their shady houses and open the windows wide, hoping to get a breath of non-existent things. cool breeze.

Only one person remained outdoors, a teenage boy lying flat on his back in the flower bed outside number 4, Privet Drive.

"Lamia, when can I go to the Burrow?"

He was a thin boy with black hair and glasses. He looked a little weak and a little sick, as if he had grown too fast in a very short time.

His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt was baggy and faded, and the soles of his sneakers were separated from the uppers.

Harry was almost bored to death in Privet Drive. The Dursleys didn't dare to do anything to him, and Harry couldn't adapt for a while. Fortunately, Lamia was always with him, otherwise he would not be able to bear these days.

Lamia crawled out from under the leaves and lay on her back on the grass. The white hair on her head was almost burnt by the sun. If she hadn't vomited in Harry's hat, she wouldn't have been discovered so quickly.

The reason was due to Uncle Vernon's poor driving skills, which made Lamia vomit.

Harry and Lamia were there, of course, because the neighbors on the street disliked them, or rather Harry, who believed that shabby living should be punishable by law.

But Harry was hiding behind a large clump of hydrangeas, so passersby wouldn't see him, and even if they did, no one would want to say anything to him.

But in reality, he could still be seen by his Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia if they stuck their heads out of the living room window and looked directly into the flower bed below.

All in all, Harry felt he was thankful he'd thought of hiding there; lying on the hot, hard dirt might not have been comfortable.

On the other hand, no one was glaring at him or chattering their teeth, obstructing his ability to hear what was on the news, nor was anyone bombarding him with annoying questions, and he could talk to Lamia openly.

Harry was thinking and fell asleep in the breeze. His chest rose and fell peacefully. Lamia closed her eyes and felt the breeze caressing her cheeks, and along with the breeze, the voices of the Dursleys coming from the house on the roadside.

"Thank goodness, that fellow has stopped snooping around. Well, where the hell has he been?"

"I don't know," said Aunt Petunia nonchalantly. "She's not home anyway."

Uncle Vernon grumbled disapprovingly.

"Watch the news?" he said tartly. "I wonder what he's up to. What normal boy cares about the news? Dudley knows nothing about current affairs. I doubt he even knows who the Prime Minister is! And why the hell are we getting people like them on the news—"

"Vernon, shh!" said Aunt Petunia. "The window's open!"

"Oh—yes—I'm sorry, dear."

The Dursleys fell silent. Lamia opened her eyes, and the next part was a jingle about a nutritious breakfast of fruit and bran.

"Meow!" A sharp cat cry sounded from beside Lamia. She frowned and looked over. It turned out to be an unusually fat big tabby cat. It was staring at her. Its golden vertical pupils seemed to have locked onto Lamia as its prey.

Lamia turned over with a headache. If she had known, she would not have turned into a bat. Now she had to run away.

"Huahua, come here!"

Another old voice came. It was Mrs. Figg, a grumpy old lady who lived on Wisteria Road not far from here. Almost all the cats Lamia saw here were raised by her.

The tabby cat turned reluctantly and ran towards Mrs. Figg, while Lamia hid back under the leaves. She was unwilling to take action unless it was absolutely necessary. Dumbledore might be watching her now.

Mrs. Figg, swearing and holding the fat cat, walked past Harry and Lamia with a grunt. Lamia was really glad that Harry was hiding behind the bushes, because recently Mrs. Figg would invite Harry over for tea whenever she met him in the street.

But Harry was always reluctant to get close to this weird old lady, and Lamia certainly didn't want to either, as there were too many cats in her house and it was very dangerous.

Mrs. Figg disappeared around the corner.

"Where's Dudley? Going to have tea again?" Uncle Vernon's voice was tired.

"He went to the Polkis'," said Aunt Petunia lovingly. "He made so many friends and they all liked him so much."

Harry was still asleep, otherwise he would have spat violently if he had heard it.

The way the Durnsleys treated their beloved son, Dudley, was incredibly stupid.

Every evening during the summer vacation Dudley made up some stupid lie about going to one of his friends' houses for tea, and they just fell for it.

In fact, Dudley didn't go anywhere for tea at all. He and his friends spent every night vandalizing public property in the playground, smoking on street corners, and throwing stones at passing cars and children.

Lamia had seen them behave this way more than once, and Harry knew it too; the two of them had spent much of the summer wandering the streets, picking up newspapers from trash cans along the way.

The opening tune of the seven o'clock news reached Lamia's ears. She flew to Harry's face and scratched his eyelids with her claws, successfully waking Harry from his sleep.

"What's wrong, Lamia?" Harry said confusedly.

Lamia said nothing, just looked at Harry, and then Harry heard the singing, and he was so nervous that his internal organs began to churn.

Maybe tonight—after a month of waiting—tonight.