Hogwarts Study Panel.

Chapter 258: The Message That Was Delivered

Diagon Alley.

People were coming and going in front of the Weasley & Grimm Wizarding World. On the left side of the shop, Hermione's face showed obvious anxiety: "Has Sheehan replied? Justin? What happened to Harry?"

"Don't worry too much, Hermione. Whatever happens, we'll handle it—let's hear what Sheen has to say first."

Justin asked reassuringly, "Have Ron and Neville arrived?"

He had barely finished speaking when he saw Ron emerge from a fireplace, covered in soot.

"What happened to Harry?! Oh my god! Where's Sheehan?!"

Ron wiped his face, but couldn't see the person he wanted to see.

"Watch out, Ron!"

As Hermione exclaimed, Justin reached out and pulled Ron to his side.

It turned out that Neville had appeared in the fireplace.

He coughed twice as soon as he appeared, spitting out some fireplace ash: "My grandmother was against me coming, until I mentioned Sheen's name—"

His words drew everyone's attention back to the horizon, as if they were waiting for something.

Further away, Bai Yi, carrying a letter, passed through layers of white clouds.

Sheen, who had just mailed the letter, was deep in thought.

It looks like the free Pokémon Dobby has appeared.

He locked Harry in the room because Hogwarts would be even more dangerous next year—

Thinking about this, Sheen couldn't help but find it somewhat amusing.

Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall said that Hogwarts was the safest place in the world, but every year Harry came looking disheveled.

In the first year, they faced trolls and Voldemort; in the second year, they faced the Basilisk; and in the third year, Hogwarts was infiltrated by "escapees"—

In the final few books, Hogwarts became the site of the final battle.

Perhaps the safety of Hogwarts, like the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, is cursed.

Sheen took out a stack of white paper; these were Professor Terra's paper airplanes.

It can deliver information anytime, anywhere.

It is said that the paper airplanes used by the Ministry of Magic are a derivative product of it.

The quill whirred as it wrote: "Harry, we've noticed you don't seem to be receiving our mail. All the mail has mysteriously disappeared."

But please don't worry, after receiving this letter, please use this blank sheet of paper to reply to me.

This white paper has a special magic; it will bring me your letters. If you encounter any problems, tell me.

—Sheen Green.

Watching the paper airplane wobble and fly through the wall, Sheehan prepared to go find Professor McGonagall.

Justin's second letter has just arrived; he's going to Diagon Alley.

The living room of the villa.

Professor McGonagall took a sip of her steaming hot black tea and saw the young wizard coming down the stairs.

At this hour, the child should still be engrossed in the Transfiguration—

She sensed something was amiss, and upon seeing the young wizard approach, she tried to calm herself, her excitement faltering. "Professor, I need to go to Diagon Alley."

The brooch says.

Professor McGonagall nodded. At least the child was finally willing to talk to her. "Go on, child. Do you want me to come with you?"

Sheen shook his head, his gaze lingering on the distance with a profound look.

Harry's relationship with the Dursleys is extremely complex.

One mistake after another was linked together, forming a tangled mess that could neither be untangled nor cut off.

The carriage kicked up dust as it moved further and further away from the farm.

"You should ask more questions, if it's like last time—"

At the farm villa, Marcus remained silent for a long while before saying these words.

His face was calm, but his body was trembling slightly.

Far away at Hogwarts, a mysterious figure plots to return, but the one who thwarts his scheme is none other than the still-naive child before him.

"You know many things are dangerous, promise me you'll keep an eye on him no matter what."

Marcus's last words faded into the wind, and the sounds of carriages outside the villa gradually subsided.

No. 4, Ligustrum Road.

Harry could only look out the window like this every day.

As soon as he got home, his Uncle Vernon locked his spellbook, wand, robe, cauldron, and Nimbus 2000, the most advanced flying broomstick, in the small, dark storage room under the stairs.

The Dursleys don't care whether Harry gets kicked off the school's Quidditch team for not practicing over the summer.

Harry didn't do any of his homework and couldn't hand it in when he returned to school. What does that have to do with them?

Even Hedwig the owl was locked in her cage, forbidden from delivering messages to anyone in the wizarding world.

Looking at Hedwig in the cage, Harry felt that he, like Hedwig, was locked in a dark and damp cell.

"Ha! You freak! None of your freak friends write to you either—just admit it, nobody cares about you!"

A chubby boy with pale, rosy skin stood in the hallway, a disgusting smile plastered on his face. But after Harry stared at him for a moment, he became frightened and stammered, "What are you looking at?"

"I'm thinking of what spell to use to set you ablaze."

Harry said.

Dali staggered back a few steps, a look of terror on his fat face.

"You can't! My dad said you're not allowed to use magic. He said he'd kick you out. You'll have nowhere to go, no friends will take you in."

"Giglibokli!"

Harry shouted, "Hawksborough—Chiggry Griggry—"

"Mom!"

Dudley cried out and stumbled into the house, "Mom! He's doing that again!"

Harry's mood didn't improve at all after scaring Dudley away.

Dudley was right; nobody sent him letters.

Ron didn't, Hermione didn't, and even Justin, who insisted that everyone write to each other, didn't.

He could console himself that perhaps Sheehan and Neville weren't good at this, but what about Ron? Hermione? Justin?

Unless, of course, the "everyone" they are referring to doesn't include themselves.

He knew his friends wouldn't do that, but he couldn't help thinking it.

Unfortunately, because he fell for Dudley's trick and scared Dudley, he will have to face Aunt Penny's revenge later.

Perhaps it's cleaning windows, washing cars, mowing lawns, tidying flowerbeds, pruning and watering roses, or repainting garden benches.

But he wasn't in the mood to care about that anymore.

Harry's mood soured as Aunt Petunia screamed downstairs, until a paper airplane wobbled and drifted through the branches of the trees outside the window.

It paused suddenly, as if something was stopping it from moving forward, but it still stubbornly wobbled to Harry's side.

Harry felt like a volcano was erupting inside him, and of course he knew what that meant!

During the critical moments in the Forbidden Forest, Sheen used this to contact them.

He has not been forgotten!

Sheen sent a letter!

He excitedly opened the letter, and his eyes welled up with tears almost immediately:

Harry, we've noticed you don't seem to be receiving our mail. All the letters have mysteriously disappeared.

But please don't worry, after receiving this letter, please use this blank sheet of paper to reply to me.

This white paper has a special magic; it will bring me your letters. If you encounter any problems, tell me.

Sheehan Green