Chapter 139 The Flower Blooms Before the Yiren

Harry lay stretched out on the bed, his eyes wide open and he was wheezing like he had run a full marathon.

Just now, he woke up from a very realistic dream, and pressed his hands tightly to his face. Under his finger, the lightning-shaped scar was burning hot, as if someone had pressed a red-hot iron on his forehead hard.

He sat up, covering his scar with one hand, and fumbling with the other in the dark for his glasses on the bedside table. He put on his glasses, and the scene in the bedroom gradually became clearer. The light from the street lamp outside the window passed through the curtains, covering the bedroom with a hazy orange-red soft light.

Harry ran his fingers over the scar again, it still hurt badly.

He turned on the lamp beside him, got out of bed, walked across the room, opened the wardrobe, and looked at the mirror on the inside of the cabinet door.

In the mirror, a thin fourteen-year-old boy was looking at him, too, with green, bewildered eyes beneath tousled black hair. Harry looked more closely at the scar on his forehead in the mirror. There was nothing unusual about it, but it still hurt terribly.

Harry tried to recall what had just happened in his dream.

On weekdays, he often had dreams, but none of them were as realistic as tonight... He frowned, concentrated his thoughts, and desperately remembered...

A dimly lit room appeared in front of his eyes... The fire in the fireplace was not very bright... A person wrapped in black mist... And a young, gentle, steady voice... He always felt Where have you heard it before.

...Tom Riddle?

Harry suddenly thought of the thrilling experience in the Slytherin Chamber of Secrets in the second grade.

Could it be... Voldemort!

Just thinking about this guy makes me feel like a piece of ice has slipped into my stomach...

He closed his eyes tightly and tried his best to recall Voldemort's appearance, but he couldn't do it... Harry only saw a figure sitting on the sofa from the back, and he was exuding an indescribable strange aura.

In the dream, he only felt a burst of inexplicable fear, and then woke up abruptly... Perhaps, it was because his scar suddenly started to hurt?

Also, who is that old man at the door?

At that time, the guy covered in black gas went to open the door - there must be an old man there, Harry saw him fall to the ground...

Alas, it's getting more and more chaotic.

Harry buried his face in his hands, preventing himself from seeing the bedroom, trying to lose himself in the dimly lit room.

However, it was like trying to hold water in his hands, and the more he tried to hold on to those details, the faster they slipped through his fingers... Voldemort and the weirdo had just talked about Wormtail, It seems to have talked about... Maca!

Maca? Harry was startled by what he recalled, What happened to Maca? Why did you mention him... Also, where is Voldemort?

He jerked his face up from his hands, opened his eyes, and stared around the bedroom as though expecting to see something out of the ordinary.

The room looked messy as usual.

At the foot of his bed was a large wooden chest, open to reveal the cauldron, broomstick, black robes and various spell books that Harry had read before bed last night. The pictures in the book were all in motion, young men in bright orange robes on broomsticks whizzing around and throwing a red ball at each other.

He didn't look at the things that were familiar to him, but went to the window, opened the curtains, and looked at the street below.

Is there that... dilapidated old house on this street?

Privet Drive, it seems, is exactly what a respectable suburban street should be in the early hours of a Sunday. The curtains on both sides of the street were drawn tightly.

Harry looked over in the darkness and saw nothing alive, not even a kitten.

However... however...

Distraught, Harry returned to the bed, sat down, and ran another finger over his scar. It wasn't the pain of the scar that bothered him; Harry was used to pain and injury.

He was just worried, what kind of relationship does this pain have with Voldemort?

...Scars... Voldemort... Maca... Harry's eyes widened suddenly, and he looked to the bottom of the wooden box, Maca?

He suddenly remembered what Maca had said to him, and then he remembered Professor Trelawney's prophecy about Voldemort's return.

He remembered that Maca repeatedly told him to go as soon as possible...

Thinking of this, Harry immediately jumped up from the edge of the bed, walked quickly to the big wooden box where the things were kept, and quickly searched for it...

The notes...the notes...have it!

Looking at this thick notebook, Harry couldn't help but recall the Christmas of the year he first entered Hogwarts. At that Christmas dinner, Maca sent a large number of owls to send various Christmas gifts to many people.

And what Harry got was the notebook in his hand that said Occlumency on the cover.

However, most of the books here are about the principles of various spells... Harry said bitterly, It's like taking a class on the history of magic in Charms...

He looked helplessly at his bedroom again, and his eyes fell on three birthday cards—these were sent to him by his three best friends last year.

Speaking of which, this year's birthday is approaching again.

What would they say if I wrote them a letter and said the scar was hurting?

His mind was immediately filled with Hermione's bluffing, fussing voice...

Your scar hurts? Harry, that's not normal... Write to Dumbledore! I'll look up Common Magical Ailments... Well, maybe we should ask Maca too... ...

Yes, Hermione would definitely suggest this: go to the headmaster of Hogwarts and look up the answer in a book at the same time. If not, she will consider whether to add some trouble to Maca.

Harry sighed, staring out the window at the heavy dark blue night sky.

Maca is a very predictable person and has always been reliable. Although he always looks very busy, as Hagrid said, he always brings warmth to everyone in many details.

In fact, the few of them are always under Maca's care. For example, now, he seems to have thought of the situation that he didn't even think of himself.

Harry thought about it for a while, and finally opened the notebook and read it bravely.

...

But when Harry forced himself to study, Hogwarts seemed deserted. During the holidays, the school suddenly becomes empty. And at dawn, it was even more deadly still.

Suddenly, a small figure came out of the castle and walked slowly towards the greenhouse.

With a soft click, the door of the seventh greenhouse was opened. The figure walked into the greenhouse without hesitation, and came to an area tightly covered by black cloth.

A corner of the black cloth was quietly lifted, and the figure walked in calmly.

It seemed that the extra-large pointed hat on the head was a little in the way, so it was gently taken off by its owner and placed on a small shelf beside it.

Immediately, a dazzling long white hair slipped down. The hair was so long that it fell down to the bend of the legs.

She shook her head casually, then reached out and stroked the ends of her hair behind her ears. Immediately, a delicate and lovely face that is not often seen quietly revealed.

This is Willy Blois, a special hidden existence in the French Blois family.

Willie calmly stared at the flower buds in front of her. Surprisingly, she didn't seem to be affected by this special magical plant called Riddle Crystal.

She stretched out a delicate little hand and stroked the flower bud; then, she took out a thick notebook from the bag she was carrying behind her.

This is the herbal medicine note that Maca gave her, which records many research records and conjectures about the Riddle Crystal recorded by Maca before she was taken away.

Willie drew out her wand, cast a wand glowing spell, and read carefully.

Time passed little by little, the darkness before dawn faded quickly, and the sun emerged from the east mountain. But because it was surrounded by black cloth, the light didn't penetrate much.

But at this moment, Willie suddenly raised her head and stared blankly at the buds, as if waiting for something.

Slowly, dots of glittering and translucent stars gradually appeared on those flower buds, and became brighter little by little with the rising sun outside.

After a while, the buds opened slowly.

As the petals of one of the mystery crystals unfolded, all the buds unfolded one after another, and those crystal colors like starlight made the entire surrounding space as beautiful as a fairyland.

And the influence of this kind of flower on living things has also reached its true peak with the flowering.

But for some reason, Willy was still not affected in any way, she just quietly looked at those beautiful but dangerous flowers, and sometimes carefully recorded something with a pen.

At this moment, those flowers started to crystallize from the stamens, and in a short while, it spread to the whole plant.

It can be said that until now, they have truly become the rare mystery crystal flowers in ancient times. Willie gently picked one of them off, and there was a crisp sound like breaking glass.

...When others are fascinated by you, what are you thinking... Willie spoke the most complete sentence so far.

Her eyes looked confused, but in an instant, she gradually returned to the calmness of the past.

Maka said, you are very dangerous... Willie looked down at the note that Maka gave her, and asked herself in a daze, ...What about me?

She casually placed the crystal-like flower on the page, fascinated as usual.