Harry Potter: A Certain Ancient Rune Professor of Hogwarts (TL)

Harry had a belly full of questions. But two weeks of continuous boredom had made him impatient to get back to the wizarding world, especially since Hermione had given him a very tempting reason to do so – to cast spells without worry – and he couldn’t ask for more.

“I’ll pack my bags right away!” Harry hurriedly left after dropping a sentence.

The Dursleys watched from the window, looking cautious and skeptical, with an identical look of suspicion in their eyes.

“Who is she?” Uncle Vernon asked first when Harry stepped into the doorway. He looked carefully at Hermione, who is standing alone near the flowerbed, and even with his discerning eye, he couldn’t see a flaw, “She’s also-also goes to that school with you?”

“Yeah, right.” Harry walked right past them and walked up the stairs, turning around.

“Get it straight! What’s she doing here – you gave our address to someone else?” Uncle Vernon chased after him aggressively, finally rushing ahead of Harry to block the stairs, pointing at Harry’s chest, with spittle flying: “I don’t know if we gave you the wrong impression, but – this family – I will not allow – it to become – a concentration camp for freaks!”

“She has a name!” Harry exclaimed with annoyance, “Her name is Hermione, and she’s not crashing here.”

He ducked his head to get through the huge gap under Uncle Vernon’s arm. “She’s here to inform me to get out of here, and I’m leaving soon.” Harry said in a tone that suppressed his joy.

“Boy, don’t talk to me in that tone – we adopted you! You’ve gotta learn to be grateful-”

The bedroom door cut off Uncle Vernon’s gruff voice from the outside. Harry didn’t care at all; he will soon be going to another place, and there is a voice inside him humming with joy.

He looked around and suddenly found his room in disarray – a few sheets of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a few quills on the floor, his unfinished astronomy class assignment; a small pile of sweets stacked on the wobbly bedside table, the bag of snacks brought back from the train half torn open, the chocolate frog with half of its head bitten off. There were also books that he had left lying around for the past two weeks, including Hedwig’s owl cage …

Luckily, Hermione didn’t follow him in. Harry couldn’t help but relish at the thought.

He sat on his butt on the bed and bent down to pull the trunk out from under the bed, a few muggle clothes, and wizard robes were piled up in a mess inside, and the socks Dobby had given him looked especially conspicuous when they had turned over to the top at some point. For the next few minutes, Harry packed the trunk with scattered books one by one. He thought happily about where he would go next as he recalled where he had hidden his possessions.

There were comic books, unused textbooks, and snacks locked in the cupboard, the former being the complete set of The Strange Adventures of Mick the Little Wizard comics, and the latter being the Gilderoy Lockhart’s series of books – which Harry always wanted to find a chance to throw away. Lockhart’s true nature is actually that of a con man, who became famous by putting other people’s stories as his own, and served as a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts during Harry’s second year, though halfway through the school year, Lockhart’s bad behaviour was discovered, and he was imprisoned in Azkaban by the Ministry of Magic.

Harry grinned, he, Ron, and Hermione had contributed in this case.

He opened his cupboard, rolled his dirty clothes into a ball, and stuffed them into the empty space of the trunk, then smoothly picked up the purple booklet from the edge of his pillow and placed it on top of his clothes, for a moment, Harry stared at the booklet and froze, gazing at the words on the cover –

The Handbook of Survival in Wartime – Published under the Licence of the Ministry of Magic: Protect Your Home and Family from the Dark Arts.

Harry held his breath and carefully turned to the first page, repeatedly reading the contents of Article 4 – Arrange a security code to identify Death Eaters who are using polyjuice potion to impersonate your friends and family ( refer to page 2).

His breath suddenly quickened and his mouth went dry.

Harry slowed down and tiptoed to the window, as if doing something bad, and darted a quick glance outside – Hermione is gone.

Harry’s brain went blank.

What is going on? Could Hermione be a fake? He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and forced himself to calm down.

Hermione suddenly came to the door to take him to a place, which is actually nothing, he gave her address … but someone should have informed him, could it be that Sirius was so busy that he forgot there is such a thing? But Professor Hap wouldn’t forget.

Harry thought he is overthinking, if Hermione is the disguised Death Eaters, the first time she saw him she should have cast a curse on him, instead of letting him go upstairs to pack his luggage … but he could not help but wonder what if the Death Eaters want him to leave willingly?

The suspicion would only fall on the real Hermione if he had an accident, and it would increase the difficulty of the subsequent investigation follow-up.

Arrange a security code with his friends and family … He didn’t even ask Hermione where they are going, he was overwhelmed by the sudden happiness …

Polyjuice Potion … he had seen it, but how to identify it? He had no idea.

Harry glanced out of the window again, Hermione is back, and – she obviously spotted Harry on the second floor and smiled at him.

Where she had been? Who was she talking to?

Harry’s heart thumped.

Crookshanks, that is strong evidence… Death Eaters can’t transform into animals using a polyjuice potion, Hermione proved it by experiencing it before, but Harry is not sure if it is Transfiguration, which he didn’t notice before.

Harry scrambled downstairs with the trunk and cage, the cage kept hitting the stair railing, Hedwig let out a disgruntled yelp, yeah … it occurred to Harry as he stood downstairs that he might find someone to ask if there is such a thing.

But it seems to be too late. If Hermione is really a disguised Death Eater, she will not give him much time to delay – even if he delayed briefly – the next second the Death Eater and her companions are likely to rush in.

Harry stood frozen in place, his head felt chaotic.

“Boy, what are you waiting for! Nobody wants to keep you!” Uncle Vernon yelled from the living room, his voice drowned out the sound of the TV show – “Goal! 1:0 lead.”

Harry turned his head with a stiff expression and looked at Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, as each of them minded their own business, as they usually did. Harry’s heart stirred strangely, he could Appirate in advance if he really encountered danger, but it meant that the Dursleys would face unknown risks.

Such as bearing the wrath of the Death Eaters who failed to catch him.

But who made them treat him badly, Harry thought, his eyes slowly gliding over the people in the living room as if he wanted to re-examine them, judging … from a different perspective

“No ice cream.” Dudley’s fat arm slapped against the table.

“There’s plenty in the freezer, baby.” Aunt Petunia said as she stacked the plates together in a pile.

“I want a Chocolate one! That new brand one!” Dudley yelled out.

“Okay, Diddykins.” Aunt Petunia said dotingly, she put down the half-cleared table and wiped her hands, “Mummy will get it for you now, and hurry back quickly, in the meantime you can have another piece of fried meat-” she walked in the direction of the door.

Harry stared at her, as her hand rested on the doorknob, and his heart raced.

“Don’t leave.” He said in a hoarse voice.

Aunt Petunia looked back in surprise, her eyebrows quirked oddly, her thin lips pursed into a line, the doting look in her eyes quickly chilled.

“You haven’t left yet.” She said, turning back to put one hand on the doorknob and giving it a firm twist.

“Don’t step outside!” Harry said, seemingly regaining his mobility and walking forward to pull Aunt Petunia away from the side of the door in one fluid motion, before drawing his wand.

The Dursleys screamed and jumped up. “Put – that – thing – away!” Aunt Petunia exclaimed.

“How dare you!” It is Uncle Vernon.

Harry ignored them, he carefully hid his wand in his sleeve and looked out through the window, the Dursleys frozen in place, stunned by his attitude. Harry pushed open the door, where the noise obviously reached outside because Hermione is poking her head into the yard to look inside.

Harry slowly walked out.

“What’s the matter, still not finished cleaning up?” Hermione asked.

“I, uh …” Harry said as he searched his brain, “I suddenly thought of a question, where are we going? And returning date?” He shrugged with mock relief, “You know, I’ve got too much stuff, and it’s hard to pack.”

“Oh,” Hermione didn’t doubt it, “I don’t know, Professor told me to come over at seven, he said if I came early, I could go ahead and wait at Sirius’ rental house with you.”

Harry breathed a small breath of relief that she at least knew that Sirius had a rented house nearby.

He couldn’t help but grumble, “It’s only a little past five in the afternoon, you’re too early.”

Hermione grunted, “I had to leave you time to pack up, and we’ve never been here before, so Mum and Dad were worried they couldn’t find their way here, but to their surprise, everything went pretty smoothly-”

“Mum and Dad?” Harry yelped.

“Yeah.” Hermione looked toward the corner of the street, and Harry followed her gaze and saw a small car parked on the road. He recognized two familiar silhouettes that, if his memory is correct, would be Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

“You told me how unfriendly the Dursleys are,” Hermione pursed her lips, “and I thought – if there are too many people blocking the door, it might cause you trouble.”

“Well, tha-t’s quite con-siderate.” Harry stammered, all his doubts cleared up. But now he didn’t know how to go back and explain it to the Dursleys, he turned around nervously, and through the large living room window, he could faintly see two round figures huddled together, highlighting Aunt Petunia, who looked thin and skinny like a dress that had been laid on Dudley, as she also huddled together with them.

Harry froze for a moment, his mouth opened and closed, and he waved his hands in a downcast manner.

“I’ll get the luggage.” He said in a sullen tone.

Harry returned to the living room, the trunk, and birdcage still untouched on the floor, the Dursley family huddled in a corner of the living room, just as he had seen from the outside. Harry lifted the cage in silence and held the handle of the trunk with his other hand, mentally praying … that he could just leave and pretend as if nothing had happened.

“Boy! Explain what kind of trick you’re playing!” Uncle Vernon yelled, blowing his moustache while trying to hold Aunt Petunia and Dudley behind him. But his intentions are clearly unrealistic, anyone can look past him to see Dudley, who is as fat as a young whale behind him.

On the contrary, it is Aunt Petunia, flushed crimson, as if she had been squeezed out of breath.

“I, I misunderstood,” Harry said dryly, “the wizarding world is not peaceful lately, I have to be careful, that man is back.”

“Who are you talking about?” Uncle Vernon asked.

“Voldemort.” Harry said in a dry voice. Let him go … don’t ask questions … you guys don’t know …

“Vo- what?” Uncle Vernon shook his head and tried to put on a thoughtful expression.

“Back?” At this point, Aunt Petunia asked softly from behind, “The … murderer … he’s back?”

Uncle Vernon looked at his wife and then at Harry, as an expression of realization dawned on his face, “I’ve heard that name, he’s the one who-”

The man who killed Harry’s parents.

But no one answered him.

Harry stared at Aunt Petunia, at first he felt it is strange, and there is a hint of an absurd sense of confusion – in the wizarding community no one will call him by the name Voldemort out of fear, as he had influenced and terrified wizards, but in the muggle world, he is just a murderer, so no one will fear him just by hearing his name; But from Aunt Petunia’s light-colored eyes, which were widened by fear, Harry vaguely realized that in this room, he is not the only one who knows exactly what Voldemort’s comeback means.

Aunt Petunia looked at him with a strange look that she had never shown him before. This made Harry very uncomfortable and the atmosphere in the room seemed to take his breath away, so he quickly picked up the trunk and cage with Hedwig in it as he dashed out of 4 Privet Drive.

“Let’s go.” Harry panted and said to Hermione.

“What’s wrong with you?” Hermione asked as she took Harry’s cage, in which Hedwig had just been roughed up and looked groggy in her cage, her otherwise bright, majestic amber eyes becoming lost in focus. She purred angrily.

“It’s nothing.” Harry said.

“You look like you just got into a fight.”

“I’ll – talk about it on the way.” Harry said.

Mr. Granger got out of the car and helped Harry load his luggage in the boot, “Thanks – I’ll carry the cage.” Harry said in a panic, as he sat in the back seat with Hermione, nearly squashing Crookshanks, who jumped into Hermione’s lap and whined at him.

Harry didn’t notice that the Grangers are equally silent as he has a belly full of worries.

” Which way next?” Mr. Granger asked in a hoarse voice.

“Turn around the intersection and go a little further, it’s very close.” Harry said, and then he heard a low sob.

Harry looked up and saw Mrs. Granger in the front row wiping the corners of her eyes in the rearview mirror. The atmosphere in the car seemed even more depressing than at 4 Privet Drive, and for a moment he couldn’t figure out what the hell is going on, so he could only look at Hermione, who shook her head slightly, as her eyes reddened.

The car stopped in front of a small red house.

Harry got out of the car with Hedwig’s cage, took his and Hermione’s luggage out of the boot, and walked towards the front door. But no footsteps followed behind him, so he looked back and saw the Grangers hugging their daughter tightly.

Harry suddenly understood the strange atmosphere in the car before – Hermione’s parents had long been aware of the news of Voldemort’s resurrection, to the extent that they had nearly witnessed the event themselves. He spent a boring two weeks in the Privet Drive, and in the meantime, the Granger couple suffered a huge psychological pressure, fearing for their daughter.

Finally, Hermione and her parents separated. She watched them get into the car, and then disappear around the corner.

Hermione stared motionlessly at the place where the car disappeared, and after a long while, she wiped her eyes and walked towards Harry, dragging her luggage.

“Is this the house Sirius rented?” Hermione asked sullenly.

“Yes – Hermione, you could have stayed home for two months,” Harry said mustering up the courage, “you’re not like me – ”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry! After knowing that war is approaching, how can I do nothing?!” Hermione interrupted him and said fiercely, “I don’t want to die in the middle of a war!”

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