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

"What a lovely evening!" cried Uncle Vernon, waving to the lady from number seven, who was peering out from behind the net curtains across the way. "Did you hear that car backfire just now? It gave Petunia and me a good fright!"

He kept that ugly, madman's grin on his face until the curious neighbors disappeared from their various windows.

Uncle Vernon looked furious, his smile suddenly turning into a ferocious scowl, and he gestured for Harry to return to him.

Harry took a few steps forward, stopping carefully in time to avoid Uncle Vernon's outstretched hands reaching for his throat again, and put his hands behind his back to signal Lamia to get out from under the leaves.

"What the hell have you done, boy?" asked Uncle Vernon in a low voice that trembled slightly with anger.

"I didn't do anything, sir," said Harry coldly. "Am I responsible for all the strange things that happened?"

Harry kept glancing up and down the street, still hoping to see who had caused the loud noise.

"Making that noise, like a pistol going off, right outside our window—"

"I didn't make that noise," said Harry firmly.

At this moment, next to Uncle Vernon's broad purple face, Aunt Petunia's thin horse face appeared, her face was ashen.

"Then why were you sneaking around under our window?" Aunt Petunia insisted, holding the frying pan like a farmer holding a chicken by the tail.

"Well, well, good question, Petunia! What were you doing under our window, boy?" Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's collar with one hand, his cheeks flushed purple with pride.

"Listen to the news," Harry said in a submissive voice.

My aunt and uncle exchanged an angry look, then burst into laughter.

"Listen to the news! Still listening?"

"Yeah, the news changes every day, you know," said Harry.

"Don't try to be clever with me, boy! I want to know what you're up to. Stop telling me about the news and all that crap! You know in your heart that people like you—"

"Watch out, Vernon!" Aunt Petunia said nervously, and Uncle Vernon dropped his voice so low Harry could barely make out what he was saying, "—your kind don't get in our news!"

"That's what you thought," Harry said, feeling the Lamia fall into his palm.

The Dursleys glared at him for a few seconds, then Aunt Petunia said, "You're a really wicked little liar. Those—" She also dropped her voice suddenly.

Harry could only understand her next words by the movement of her lips. "—Wouldn't the owl be able to give you a message?"

"Aha!" whispered Uncle Vernon triumphantly. "Tell the truth, boy! As if we didn't know you could get all the news from those pesky birds!"

Harry hesitated for a moment.

There was a price to pay for telling the truth this time, although his aunt and uncle could not have known how sad he felt to admit it.

"The owl—no more messages for me," he said dryly.

"I don't believe it," said Aunt Petunia quickly.

"I don't believe it either," Uncle Vernon added firmly.

"We knew you were going to do something outrageous," said Aunt Petunia.

"We're not fools, you know," said Uncle Vernon.

"Oh, that's news to me," said Harry, his temper rising, and before the Dursleys could call him back he turned and ran across the lawn, over the garden wall, and out into the street at a rapid pace.

Harry knew he was in trouble, and that he would have to face his aunt and uncle later and pay the price for his rude words and actions, but he couldn't care less now.

He had more pressing matters on his mind.

"Lamia, do you know what that sound was?" Harry whispered. He hid in the bushes again. There was almost no one to be seen here.

Lamia jumped out of Harry's hand. "I didn't see it, Harry, but I think someone must have used magic," she said seriously.

"I think so too, and I guess that the loud noise just now was made when someone Apparated or Disapparated. Dobby made this sound every time he disappeared into thin air." Harry said, stroking his chin.

"Did Dobby come to Privet Drive? Or is he following me now?" After saying this, Harry turned around suddenly and looked at Privet Drive behind him, but there was no one on the road, and Dobby didn't know how to become invisible.

"That's impossible, Harry. Dobby has other tasks. He won't follow you." Lamia said. She didn't want to know who made the voice as much as Harry did.

Rather than this, she wanted to know when she could get a response from the system. It had been a long time since the last mission was successful, and no matter how she called the system, there was no response.

Harry and Lamia continued walking, Harry paying little attention to where he was walking. He had been trudging up and down these streets a lot lately, his feet automatically taking him to his favorite places.

Harry looked over his shoulder every few steps; it was certain that someone with magical powers had been nearby when he lay dying among Aunt Petunia's begonia bushes.

Why weren't they talking to him? Why weren't they getting in touch with him? Why were they hiding now? As his disappointment reached its peak, his confidence began to waver.

Maybe it wasn't a magical sound at all. Maybe he was so desperate for some hint of contact from his world that he was startled by some ordinary noise.

Then, unexpectedly, the feeling of despair that had been tormenting him all summer came over him again.

Harry squatted on the ground sadly, and a sad smell emanated from his whole body. Lamia didn't know what to do for a moment. She also wanted to tell Harry what made that sound, but she didn't see it at all. At that time, she was only busy biting Uncle Vernon, and her mouth was full of his stench. How could she care about listening to the harmless explosion?

Every morning at five o'clock, Harry would be woken up by the alarm clock. He paid for the Daily Prophet delivered by owl, but Harry now felt that this newspaper was useless. These days, he just glanced at the first page every day and threw the newspaper aside.

The idiots who ran the newspapers were sure to put the news on the front page once they knew Voldemort was back, and that was all Harry cared about, but Harry never saw it happen once.

And if Harry was lucky, an owl would deliver letters from his best friends Ron and Hermione, whose letters he had hoped would bring him news, but that hope had long been dashed.

Hermione once sent a letter in which she comforted Harry and told him that they couldn't write to him for the time being because they had a mission. However, she didn't say what the mission was or how long it would take. She only said that they would meet at the Burrow. But when could he see them?

No one was willing to give a specific date. Hermione scribbled on his birthday card, "Hope we see you soon," but how soon?

Harry could tell from the slightest hints in their letters that Hermione and Ron were in the same place, most likely at Ron's parents' house, and the thought of them both having fun at the Burrow while he was stuck in Privet Drive was unbearable.

Even though Lamia is here to keep Harry company, it's the same as having nothing. Lamia turns into a bat every day and rarely talks to Harry.

Harry had never been angrier than today, having thrown away unopened the two boxes of Bee Dukes chocolates they had sent him for his birthday.

That night, after eating the dry salad Aunt Petunia served for dinner, Harry felt regretful again.

At night, Harry lay in bed with his stomach rumbling. He felt even more aggrieved. When he thought of Ron and Hermione eating the food made by Mrs. Weasley at the Burrow, while he could only starve here, tears could not stop flowing.

"Harry, this is for you." Lamia stuffed something in her arms into Harry's hands. It was the chocolate he had thrown away.

Harry felt even more aggrieved. He quickly opened the chocolate and stuffed it into his mouth while crying, "Lamia, where did you find this?" His mouth was full of it. Lamia couldn't bear it anymore and handed him a handkerchief.

"I picked it up as soon as you dropped it." Lamia knew at a glance that Harry was throwing a tantrum and was sure to regret it. That's why she hid in her bed and secretly shed tears at night.

"Lamia, tell me, what are Ron and Hermione busy with? Why am I doing nothing all day? Is this also the task assigned to me by Dumbledore? Why do you all have your own things to do, but me?" Harry looked at Lamia expectantly, hoping to hear from her the task assigned by Dumbledore.

But sadly, Lamia could only shake her head. "Dumbledore didn't say what your mission was, Harry."

"Why?" Harry put the chocolate aside dejectedly. "Am I useless?"

Harry turned over, not wanting to hear Lamia's next answer. He was afraid that he would not be able to hold back his tears in front of her again.

But Lamia didn't say anything. She just flew silently to the window, turned into a bat and hung upside down on the window frame. She had to guard here to prevent anyone from coming in through the window.

Alas, Lamia closed her eyes, her mind full of the scene of Harry crying. She tried her best to focus on the outside of the window, but her mood was still affected.