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

"—Spanish baggage handlers' strike enters second week, leaving scores of holidaymakers stranded at airports—"

"If it were me, I'd let them take naps for life," Uncle Vernon roared fiercely as the newscaster finished speaking.

But it didn't matter. Harry, sitting in the flowerbed outside, felt relieved. If something really happened, it would definitely be the headlines. Death and disaster were far more important than holidaymakers stranded at the airport.

He slowly let out a long breath and looked up at the clear blue sky.

"That's great, Lamia, nothing happened now, that's great." Harry murmured, looking extremely tired.

Lamia fluttered its wings and landed on Harry's shoulder, quietly accompanying him to listen to the news.

Every day this summer has been like this: tension, anticipation, a brief sigh of relief, and then the tension tightens again. And one question becomes increasingly urgent: Why hasn't anything happened yet?

Harry listened on, just in case there was some obscure clue that the Muggles hadn't yet figured out—someone disappearing for unknown reasons, or some strange accident.

But after the news of the baggage handlers' strike came the drought in the southeast.

"I wish the guy next door would listen!" Uncle Vernon yelled angrily. "He had the sprinklers on at three in the morning!"

Then a helicopter nearly crashed in a Surrey field, and then a famous actress divorced her famous husband.

"As if any of us cares about their crap," sneered Aunt Petunia, who was actually following the matter with an almost obsessive focus, having already thumbed through every magazine her bony hands could get their hands on.

Harry closed his eyes, the sunset sky growing blinding as the newsreader said: - Finally, Bungie the budgie has found a new way to stay cool this summer. Bungie, of Five Feathers Street, Barnsley, has learned to water ski! - Mary Dorking reports.

What a boring news, Lamia flew to the ground and water skied, which sounds unreliable.

Harry opened his eyes too. Now that they were talking about budgie water skiing, it seemed there wouldn't be any more news worth hearing.

He carefully turned over, climbed up on his knees and elbows, and prepared to crawl out of the window using both hands and feet.

I had barely crawled two inches when several things happened one after another in a flash.

A loud, echoing crack, like a gunshot, shattered the drowsy silence, and a cat darted out from under a parked car and disappeared.

There was a scream, a curse, and the sound of breaking china from the Dursleys' living room.

Harry seemed to have been waiting for this signal. He stood up suddenly, pulling a thin wooden wand from his jeans pocket like a sword, but before he could stand completely, his head hit the open window of the Dursleys' house.

There was a loud bang, which frightened Aunt Petunia and made her scream even louder.

Harry felt as if his head was split in two, tears welled up in his eyes. He shook his body and looked at the street, trying to clear his blurry vision so that he could figure out where the sound had come from.

But just as he managed to stand up straight, two large purple hands stretched out from the open window and tightly grasped his throat.

"Put it—away!" Uncle Vernon yelled, grabbing Harry's ear. "Quick! Out of—anyone's—sight!"

"Let—me—go!" gasped Harry.

They struggled for a few seconds, Harry using his left hand to pry open his uncle's thick, sausage-like fingers, his right hand still firmly grasping the raised wand.

Then there was a sharp, piercing pain in the top of Harry's head, which was already aching. The next second, Uncle Vernon cried out as if he had been electrocuted and let go of Harry, as if there was an invisible force around his nephew that prevented him from holding him.

Lamia loosened her grip on Uncle Vernon, her sharp incisors poking two bleeding holes in him, and flew straight towards Harry.

Harry fell breathlessly into the hydrangeas, then straightened up and looked around.

He couldn't see where the explosion had come from, but faces were popping out of various windows around him. Harry quickly stuffed his wand into his jeans and pretended nothing had happened.

"Thank you, Lamia." Harry whispered to Lamia who was hiding under the leaves.