Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 389 Rage Born from Sorrow
The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close, and a sleepy silence fell over the large, square houses of Privet Drive.

The cars that were usually gleaming were now all dusty and grimy parked in the driveway, and the once lush green grass had turned withered and yellow.

Due to the drought, watering hoses have been banned from use.

The residents of Privet Road used to spend their time washing cars and mowing lawns, but now that they can't do either of those things, they have to hide in their shady houses, open the windows wide, and hope that a non-existent breeze will blow in.

Only one person remained outdoors. He was a boy in his early teens, sitting idly on a swing, staring blankly ahead.

The swing was located in a park not far from Privet Drive. Harry had passed through this park during the summer before the start of his third year of high school. At that time, he had just blown up his aunt into a balloon. It was in this park that Harry first met Sirius Black.

Harry spent the entire summer vacation here, aimlessly wandering on the swings, as if only in this way could he forget his troubles and sadness.

The owl would always deliver letters to Ron and Hermione, who were his two best friends besides Tyella.

Harry had hoped their letter would bring him news, or at least allow him to talk about Tyrell, but—

"...We can't say too much about that matter. Someone told us not to talk about anything important, lest our letters be sent to the wrong place. We're very busy right now, but I can't go into details with you here. A lot has happened, and we'll tell you when we meet you."

This is a birthday card Hermione wrote for him.

Neither Hermione nor Ron spoke of Tyella, as if she didn't exist at all.

This made Harry somewhat annoyed, and also filled him with an overwhelming sadness.

Harry's temper grew increasingly volatile. His mind kept replaying the night Tierra was killed by Voldemort: how Tierra had rushed between him and Voldemort, how his Disarming Charm and Voldemort's Killing Curse had struck her, and how the light had vanished from Tierra's eyes—

Harry remembers everything clearly.

Even if he managed to escape the nightmares about Tiera, he would dream of long, dark corridors, each leading to a dead end or a locked door. These dreams disturbed him, and he guessed that they were probably related to the trapped, animal-like emotions he experienced when he was awake.

The scar on his forehead often stung and was very uncomfortable, but he knew that Ron, Hermione, and Sirius wouldn't be very interested in it.

In the past, bouts of pain from his scar had been a sign that Voldemort's power was growing stronger again, but now that Voldemort had returned, they would probably remind him that such regular bouts of pain were to be expected, nothing to worry about, and no longer news.

This is so unfair! His resentment kept piling up, and he really wanted to shout it out.

If it weren't for him, no one would have known that Voldemort had returned!

And what he got in return was being trapped in Little Wheegham for four whole weeks, completely cut off from the magical world—

He didn't know how long he had been sitting on the swing when the sound of other people talking interrupted his thoughts.

Harry looked up, the streetlights casting a hazy glow around him.

He could see a group of figures walking through the amusement park, one of them loudly humming a vulgar song, while the others laughed.

A faint clanging sound could be heard, the sound of several expensive racing cars being pushed along.

Harry knew who those people were.

The one leading the group was undoubtedly his cousin, Dudley Dessley, who was walking home accompanied by his gang of cronies.

Dudley is still as tall and strong as before, but after a year of strict diet control and the development of a new talent, his physique has greatly improved.

Uncle Vernon was delighted to tell everyone he met that Dudley had recently become the champion of the Southeast Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Championship.

This "noble sport," as Uncle Vernon called it, made Dudley even more formidable.

When Harry was in elementary school, he was Dudley's first dangle during boxing practice. Even then, he thought Dudley was pretty good. Now, Harry has absolutely no fear of his cousin, not even—

Harry always felt an urge when he saw Dudley's foolish appearance—

I want to point the tip of my wand at Dudley. I have the urge to utter "Crucible."

Harry watched the dark figures walk across the grass, wondering who they had beaten up this night.

“He squeals like a pig, doesn’t he?” Harry heard one of the men behind Dudley say as the group walked in, followed by rough laughter from the others.

“Five against one,” Harry said, feeling inexplicably angry today.

"Oh? You really dare to say that?" Dali said sarcastically. "At least I'm not afraid of my pillow."

"Don't kill Tiera!" Dali suddenly yelled in a high-pitched voice, and his cronies behind him shouted in a rough voice again.

“Shut up!” Harry roared angrily.

"Who is Tiera?" Dali suddenly asked with a strange expression. "Your boyfriend?"

“Shut up!” Harry yelled. “Shut up, Dudley, I’m warning you!”

"'Come save me, Dad! Mom, come save me! He killed Tiera! Dad, save me! He's going to—'Don't point that thing at me!' Dudley continued in a sarcastic tone.

"Shut up!" Harry jumped to his feet, pointing his wand squarely at Dudley's heart—

Harry felt his fourteen years of hatred for Dudley surging through his veins—

He was willing to give up everything, just to deliver a swift and decisive blow, to cast a powerful curse on Dudley, so that he could only crawl home like a worm, unable to utter a word.

A voice seemed to be constantly echoing in Harry's ears, a voice that seemed to be urging him to use a curse, urging him to use a curse, and just as Harry couldn't hold back any longer—

"Never get angry over unworthy people or things."

Tyrell's voice suddenly echoed in Harry's ears, like a bucket of cold water being poured over him, instantly calming him down.

Just as Harry was about to slowly put away his wand—

Dudley, standing in front of Harry, suddenly shuddered strangely, gasped, as if he had been doused with icy water.

In the darkness, a strange thing happened. The deep blue night sky, studded with stars, suddenly turned completely black, without a single ray of light—

The stars, the moon, and the dim streetlights at both ends of the alley all vanished in an instant.

The rumble of cars passing by in the distance and the rustling of leaves nearby could no longer be heard.

The mild and pleasant night suddenly turned bitterly cold. They were enveloped in an impenetrable, deep, and silent darkness, as if a giant hand had covered the entire alley with a thick, cold curtain, making it impossible for them to see anything.

……

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away on the snow-covered Alps, Tierra let out a slow sigh.

"What's wrong?" Dumbledore, who was walking ahead of Tierra, asked hesitantly.

“It’s nothing,” Tierra said helplessly. “You need to find Harry some psychological counseling. If he continues like this, he’ll cause a big mess sooner or later.”

"Then whose fault do you think this is?" Dumbledore stopped and looked at Tyella with pity, which made Tyella feel a chill run down her spine.

"It's my fault, it's my fault, okay?" Tiera said impatiently. "Let's go, let's go. I don't understand. We can both fly, so why do we have to walk to Nurmengard?"

Dumbledore smiled, but did not answer Tyrell. Instead, he continued walking forward step by step.

Thank you

Feng Tingqing cast her January vote.
lozinda casts January vote
Overclocking pile driver votes in September
I, who have no morals, cannot be kidnapped and will vote for you in January.


(End of this chapter)