Chapter 394 Unnamed Draft

Hephesus finally "hatched" out of the black egg.

His skin was as delicate as porcelain, with a faint rose color, as if it was the most exquisite masterpiece in the universe.

Hephis looked down at his white and chubby little hands, and a hint of helplessness flashed in his emerald eyes.

He actually regressed into infancy.

But this time it was okay.

Although his body has shrunk, his abilities have not been lost, but have been enhanced to an unprecedented level.

For him, sleeping in the egg was not a waste of time, but a process of receiving information and knowledge from the depths of the universe.

Although his body now looks fragile on the outside, it has actually become a planetary life form.

The energy it contains is equivalent to that of a planet.

And the planet under his feet, which is similar to the Blue Star, is the source of his energy.

As for this mysterious black hole space, it is actually one's own inner world.

But he was too weak before and could not perceive this.

During his years of sleep, Hephis not only awakened his own potential, but also fully comprehended the power of the law of darkness.

The most critical ability of this power is devouring.

As long as he is given enough time, he will be able to incorporate more planets into the black hole space to supplement his power.

In theory, there is no limit to the growth of his energy.

The Dursleys, who lived at number four, Privet Drive, always boasted that they were a very decent family. Please, please. They never got involved in anything mysterious or weird because they didn't believe in it.

Mr. Vernon Dursley was a supervisor at a company called Grunning, which manufactured drilling machines. He was tall and burly, so fat that he almost had no neck, but he had a big beard. Mrs. Dursley was a thin blonde woman. Her neck was almost twice as long as a normal person's. This was very useful when she spent a lot of time craning over the fence to spy on her neighbors. The Dursleys had a little son named Dudley. In their opinion, there was no better child in the world than Dudley.

The Dursleys had everything they needed, but they had a secret, and their biggest fear was that someone would find out about the Potters. They thought they would not be able to handle it if someone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they had not seen each other for several years. In fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended that she did not have such a sister at all, because her sister and her good-for-nothing brother-in-law were completely different from the Dursleys. The Dursleys were terrified at the thought of the neighbors saying that the Potters had come. They knew that the Potters also had a son, but they had never seen him. The child was also a good excuse for them not to associate with the Potters. They did not want Dudley to be with such a child.

Our story begins on a dark, gloomy Tuesday when the Dursleys wake up early in the morning. The dark, low-lying sky outside the window shows no sign of mysterious and strange things happening in this place. Mr. Dursley hums a little tune and picks out his least favorite tie to wear to work. Mrs. Dursley is happy and keeps chattering, and she stuffs the screaming Dudley into the child's chair.

None of them noticed a tawny owl fluttering past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, kissed Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and was about to kiss Dudley to say goodbye to the little guy, but he didn't kiss him because the little guy was throwing a tantrum and throwing cereal against the wall. "Brat." Mr. Dursley muttered, chuckled, walked out of the house, got in the car, and backed out of drive 4.

On the street corner, he saw the first sign of something unusual - a cat reading a map. At first, Mr. Dursley didn't understand what he saw, so he turned back. He saw a tabby cat standing at the corner of Privet Drive, but there was no map. What on earth was he thinking? It was probably the light that was playing tricks on him. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat, and the cat stared back at him. As Mr. Dursley turned the corner and continued on his way, he looked at the cat in the rearview mirror. The cat was now reading the sign for Privet Drive. No, it was looking at the sign; cats can't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gathered himself and put the cat out of his mind. He drove into town, thinking all the way that he hoped he would get a large order for drilling rigs today.

But as he was about to enter the city, another thing drove the drilling rig out of his mind. As his car merged into the morning traffic, he suddenly saw a group of people dressed in strange clothes on the side of the road. They were all wearing cloaks. Mr. Dursley hated people wearing strange clothes the most, and look at the young people's outfit! He guessed that this was probably another boring new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on the large group of monsters closest to him. They were talking to each other in high spirits. Mr. Dursley was very angry because he found that one of them was not young at all. The man looked older than him and was wearing an emerald green cloak! How shameless! Then, Mr. Dursley suddenly thought that these people were probably collecting donations for something. Yes, that was it. The traffic moved, and a few minutes later Mr. Dursley arrived at the parking lot of the Grunning Company, and his thoughts returned to the drilling rig.

Mr. Dursley sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he had not sat like that, he might have found it more difficult to concentrate on the rig this morning. He did not see the flocks of owls flying across the sky in broad daylight, but the people on the street did; they stared in amazement, pointing and staring at the owls flying overhead one after another. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night. Mr. Dursley was in a normal morning, and was not bothered by the owls. He shouted at five people in succession, and made several important telephone calls, shouting even louder. He was in a good mood, and at lunchtime he thought he would stretch his legs and buy a bun from the bakery across the street.

He would have forgotten them long ago if he had not run into the cloaked men near the bakery. He glared at them as he passed them. He could not tell why, but he felt uncomfortable with them. They were chattering and talking, but he did not see a collection box. As he walked back with a large pancake in his bag, he passed them and heard their words in fragments: