"...The Ministry of Magic has decided that, in order to quickly restore safety and order to the British Wizarding World, Dementors will be dispatched to search for traces of the Obscurus..."
The Streaming Mirror on the table was broadcasting the magical version of today's news. Fudge, dressed in a magenta suit, was vigorously waving his fist, declaring:
"The Dementors attacking Hogwarts students is pure nonsense! In fact, they boarded the train for inspection to ensure the students' safety."
"Of course, we did make a small mistake here, as the Ministry of Magic and the school didn't communicate in time, leading to some misunderstandings. Several students fainted from fright, but no greater harm was done beyond that..."
Harry, who was eating breakfast, felt a lump in his throat and put down his bread.
"The students and a professor on the train arbitrarily attacked Ministry of Magic personnel who were performing their duties, which is absolutely wrong! However, considering the children's feelings, we've decided not to pursue charges against them..."
Michael scoffed silently, shook his head, and cut into the fried egg on his plate.
"I can assure you here that Dementors always obey Ministry of Magic orders and are completely under control... Any worries or suspicions that Dementors might attack innocent bystanders are superfluous... Once the Obscurus is apprehended, the Dementors will immediately return to Azkaban..."
"It was a misunderstanding... It's great that the Ministry of Magic isn't pursuing charges..." Fiona breathed a sigh of relief, then asked curiously, "What do Dementors actually look like?"
"Like a big, black, tattered blanket, the kind that's gone sour and smelly," Michael made a face and said, "They're hideous!"
"Hahaha..." Fiona was amused by him, then said, "They sound like very formidable prison guards... Is that Obscurus thing no match for them either?"
"Don't know, there's no historical record of those two creatures fighting," Wade said.
"Maybe the Dementors are stronger... After all, there are so many Dementors," Fiona guessed simply.
"Whatever it is, I just want those things to go back to Azkaban quickly," Harry grumbled. "I don't want to run into another 'inspection.'"
The news on the Streaming Mirror ended, quickly replaced by a Muggle musical. Dozens of handsome men and beautiful women sang and danced joyfully in the mirror, dispelling the gloom the news had brought.
"I can't believe it!" Michael said indignantly. "Such a big incident, and they just swept it under the rug like that!"
"Given the Dementors' actions on the train, it's indeed hard to tell if they were inspecting or attacking," Wade said calmly. "After all, no one was really... really harmed."
He glanced at his mother, swallowing the words "had their souls sucked out."
Unlike Ferdinand, who focused on the dangers and dark side of the magical world, Fiona usually paid attention to the wondrous side of magic.
All her knowledge of Dementors came from news on the Streaming Mirror and the Daily Prophet, which wouldn't mention the evil, terrifying aspects of these creatures, only repeatedly emphasize—
Dementors are the most reliable guards in the wizarding world.
In Fiona's imagination, they were a group of tall, strong, lonely, shadowy, never-seen-true-face mysterious forces.
Of course, after the Hogwarts Express incident, the image in her mind had updated to a group of extremely rude and sinister barbarians.
Dementors—just from the name, it's hard to imagine what dark, decaying creatures they are.
After breakfast, the three small Magic Golems hopped and skipped as they cleared the dishes, while Fiona and Ferdinand went upstairs to change into their going-out clothes.
"We're going to visit some friends. You can play as much as you like at home. There are drinks in the fridge, newly bought snacks in the cupboard, and you can order pizza or Chinese food from nearby for lunch. I left the numbers next to the phone."
Ferdinand instructed.
"Okay, Dad," Wade said.
"See you tonight, dear."
Fiona kissed Wade's forehead, then similarly kissed Harry and Michael, smiling as she said:
"Don't be shy, just treat it like your own home. If I come back and see everything tidy, I'll be cross."
"You're underestimating Coco's work ethic, Mom," Wade replied.
"Don't worry, we won't shortchange ourselves!" Michael chimed in confidently.
Harry was still covering his forehead, looking dazed and somewhat silly.
Mr. and Mrs. Gray smiled their goodbyes, put on their coats, and left.
After seeing them out, Wade turned back and asked, "What do you want to do now? Watch TV? Play games? Or do homework?"
"...Anything but the last one!" Michael put an arm around Wade's neck, feigning complaint. "But Wade, you never told me your house was this cool!"
"Yeah..." Harry echoed. "I thought it would be like the Dursleys' house! But it looks..."
Harry looked around.
"It looks just like a Pure-blood wizard's home."
Sneakoscopes, which could provide warnings, hung near the doors and windows, and a Streaming Mirror and a television were in the living room, though the latter looked like it hadn't been used in a long time.
Three small Magic Golems diligently tidied the house, and the mirror in the changing room loudly commented on the wearer's attire and appearance, offering seemingly sound advice.
"Scars are ugly, but lightning bolt scars are cool! Boy, you could wear a blue beret!"
The first time Harry heard that voice, he was startled.
Besides that, there was a large astronomical telescope in the attic, and a glass sphere in the center of the room contained a moving constellation model, which Harry loved.
The attic bookshelves held many books on A History of Magic, all showing signs of frequent reading. Mr. Ferdinand also kept a thick stack of Daily Prophets, some densely annotated.
Harry felt a little ashamed; he usually just threw his newspapers away after reading them. Most of the time, the crossword puzzles were the only things he read attentively.
"It's fine, my parents are just really interested in magic."
Wade led them to the attic, pulled out a pile of unopened boxes, and asked, "What do you want to play? I have Contra, Desert Storm, and... Raiders of the Lost Ark?"
Wade flipped through the names on the boxes.
Most of these were Christmas gifts he'd received last year, and some were video games Ferdinand's business partners had specifically brought from abroad when they learned he had a minor son at home.
Wade wasn't interested in them, but Harry and Michael were actual thirteen-year-olds; they'd definitely enjoy these types of games.
Harry picked up another box nearby. The cover showed several big-nosed old men wearing bull-horned hats, holding swords or shields.
He looked at the jewel-encrusted sword, feeling an inexplicable fondness, and softly read the name aloud: "The Lost Vikings?"
"Vikings? Sounds cool, let's play this one!" Michael said excitedly.
Harry's eyes also lit up. At the Dursleys', even though there was a game console, everything belonged to Dudley, and Harry wasn't even allowed to touch it.
Though he always pretended to be disdainful, only he knew how curious and envious he truly was inside.
"Alright!"
Wade had no preference for which game they played. They unboxed it, plugged it in, and turned on the console.
Accompanied by a booming, thumping melody, the screen flickered black then bright, and three pixelated, blurry little figures appeared.
…
"Crunch… crunch…"
Leather boots crunched on the accumulated snow. Abigail and Major Byrd walked along the street, their expressionless faces a stark contrast to the joyful crowd around them.
They walked through street after street, and finally, Byrd stood outside a small tavern.
A crooked sign hung above the tavern—"The Antler Tavern"—and near the doorknob was a small wooden sign that read "CLOSED."
Byrd ignored the wooden sign, rapped on the door with his knuckles, and soon heard the clinking of chains from inside.
A dazed, elderly woman stood in the doorway.
"Come in," she said. "Brolin has been waiting for you for a long time."
Byrd took a deep breath, his expression agitated. But at that moment, he took a step back, gesturing for Abigail to go first.
Abigail's lips were tightly pressed together as she strode inside, with Byrd following closely behind.
The wooden door slammed shut behind them.
The small tavern was half underground and half above, and the room was very dim, the few lit lamps not particularly bright.
A grey-haired bartender was skillfully mixing drinks, and at the bar, a handsome man in his forties or fifties was seated.
A cocktail sat beside his hand, but he wasn't drinking it. Instead, he was reading a gaudy newspaper.
Abigail recognized it at a glance as a rather popular tabloid in the British Wizarding World, often publishing unverified rumors and nonsensical conjectures.
"Cella, Major, long time no see."
The man turned around and said gently.
"Mr. Brolin." They both lowered their heads in greeting.
"Hmm." Brolin nodded, then suddenly asked, "Did you read this issue of The Quibbler?"
They exchanged glances, shaking their heads simultaneously.
Byrd explained, "The Quibbler publishes all sorts of strange rubb... articles. Personally, I don't think it's worth subscribing to."
"I used to think it was just good for a laugh, but sometimes you can find news in it that isn't in the Daily Prophet. For example…"
Brolin suddenly turned his gaze to Abigail, smiling, "Cella, I heard you used the Patronus Charm on the train to protect those students?"
"Yes," Abigail said, lowering her head. "Dumbledore knew I was on the train. In that situation, if I hadn't acted, I would certainly have been questioned…"
"Hmm, no need to explain, I understand." Brolin smiled. "But this magazine is spouting nonsense, claiming the two Patronuses that drove away the Dementors were an eagle and a Doberman. Do you think that's possible, Cella?"
"Naturally impossible," Byrd said, relaxing. "It must be that those young wizards couldn't tell the difference between breeds of hounds, or they simply misidentified them, right, Cella?"
He turned his head, only to see his companion looking down in silence.
"—Cella?"
Byrd frowned, looking somewhat puzzled.
Brolin sighed softly.
"Expecto Patronum, Cella," he said, leaving no room for argument. "Let me see your Patronus."
Abigail slowly drew her Wand.
A moment later, a silvery-white hound ran two circles around the room before coming to Abigail's side.
Its body was lean and agile, its head narrow and long, appearing majestic and elegant.
It was indeed a Doberman.
Byrd's expression changed slightly. He slowly raised his eyes to look at Abigail, as if looking at a stranger.
"Abigail, your Patronus used to be a Pit Bull!" Byrd asked. "When did it change like this?"
The silver hound dispersed and vanished. Abigail said, "I don't know."
If she had known her Patronus had changed, she wouldn't have cast the Spell then, or at least would have hidden its form.
When she saw the Patronus rushing towards the Dementors, Abigail's surprise and unease were no less than that of the other students on the train.
"Under what circumstances does a Patronus's form change, Abigail?" Brolin asked softly.
"When..." Abigail paused, then said, "When one experiences psychological trauma or... or a drastic emotional shift..."
"Did that school change you?" Brolin pressed. "Did they make you weak? Did they make you believe in poisons like love or friendship, making you forget your own stance?"
"I didn't!" Abigail retorted.
"A Patronus reflects your true inner thoughts more than words ever could," Byrd said coldly.
"Don't be so harsh, Major; it's not that unusual for someone to be influenced by naive children."
Brolin's tone remained gentle as he continued, "But Sera, while the world of children is indeed simple and kind, those children can't remain children forever."
"They'll soon leave school and haphazardly use magic to harm innocent Muggles, becoming the kind of wizards you despise most."
"Have you forgotten how your parents died? Thirteen years ago, two wizards chased and fought each other, and with a single spell, they killed twelve innocent Muggles—simply because those people were on the same street!"
Abigail's eyes instantly reddened, and she gritted her teeth, saying, "I haven't forgotten!"
Brolin looked at her with pity and continued, "No reason, no explanation, not even an apology! Your parents' bodies were never recovered, and their names weren't even deemed worthy of appearing in wizarding newspapers."
"Poor child... You joined The Organization with revenge in your heart. Later, you heard that those two reckless wizards had been punished—one died, and the other was locked away in the world's most terrifying prison."
"But what's the reality? One became a world-renowned hero, rumored to even join the Ministry of Magic as an Auror; the other is still at large, his whereabouts unknown."
"Only you... child, only you remember those who died. Your parents only live on in your memory."
"Abigail, how could you forget? How could you become weak?"
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