Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

“So, this is the Philosopher’s Stone!” Hermione followed, with a sound of concern in her voice. “Dumbledore said that under its influence, the Curse that Voldemort left on you was completely broken, leaving no sequelae behind.”

Evan stared at the Philosopher’s Stone for a moment, and then suddenly remembered, “WHERE IS SIRIUS?”

“He is at St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I heard Dumbledore say that he is seriously injured, but his life is not in danger. He needs to rest for a while.” Hermione frowned and said, “Evan, where on earth did you go during the summer vacation? How dangerous was it to get this Philosopher’s Stone? Did those ancient Centaurs leave anything behind?”

While Evan was telling Hermione about his vacation experience, Harry jumped out of bed.

He was sweating and sitting on his cot, breathing hard, as if he had been running.

He recalled the vivid dream he had just had, the scar on his forehead burning under his fingers.

The scar hurt so much that it seemed as if someone had pressed a red-hot wire on his skin.

Harry gasped, pressing the scar with one hand and grabbing the glasses in the dark with his other hand.

He was sure he had just dreamed of Voldemort.

It was a big, dark, shabby house, and there was a wizard named Caresius next to Voldemort.

Harry was puzzled. Who was this wizard named Caresius?!

In the dream just now, his body was tightly wrapped in a black cloak, and his face was very pale.

Harry didn’t recognize this person, but no doubt, Voldemort had found a new helper.

In front of them, there was a statue in the shape of an ugly tree root.

Harry closed his eyes and tried hard to recall the dream just now, the appearance of Voldemort and the statue, but the scar was getting more and more painful.

Voldemort was plotting something, but everything became blurred.

Harry couldn’t remember, whether it was Voldemort or the terrible conversation between them.

They were planning to kill someone, but he couldn’t remember the name anyway.

He only remembered that he felt fear at the end, and he was awakened by strong convulsions or the pain of the scar.

The perspective in the dream also made Harry feel worried.

He seemed to be lying on the ground, in the corner beside the burning stove, like a snake…

Harry gasped for a while, and it took a long time for his thoughts to shift to the letter Hermione wrote to him not long ago.

Hermione told him in the letter that Evan and Sirius had already acquired the Philosopher’s Stone and that Evan’s curse had been lifted.

However, it also mentioned that both of them were seriously injured.

Evan was better, and had been sent back to his home. Hermione was about to go there with him.

Sirius was sent to St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He was out of danger and just needed a rest period for recovery.

Harry was worried about Evan and Sirius, and he didn’t understand why Dumbledore didn’t tell him directly.

He spent the whole summer worrying about it, but he didn’t get any news.

Harry wanted to do something as well. Even if he couldn’t go to St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, he should go to see Evan.

But the reality was, where he was now, he couldn’t even go out of the house.

Thinking of this, Harry was angry for a while.

Although he had a godfather, this summer vacation still went bad.

The only change was that the Dursleys were no longer hiding all his magic items; Evan had warned them about this.

Mr. Mason’s construction business was now Uncle Harry’s biggest buyer, so for them, Evan’s words weighed heavily.

Of course, another reason might be that the Dursleys gave up. They finally knew that no matter what they did, it was impossible to squeeze the power of magic out of Harry’s body. It would be better to ignore him and assume that he did not exist.

Compared with what he had suffered before, Harry was more than happy with this situation.

The only bad thing was that he could only stay in his room all summer long and couldn’t go anywhere.

No one talked to him. He was like a helpless boat, stranded here alone…

The pain on the scar once again disturbed Harry’s thoughts.

He got up from his bed sluggishly and looked around his little room blankly.

At his feet, a large trunk was open, revealing a cauldron, a broomstick, and different kinds of magic textbooks.

Rolls of parchment were scattered on Harry’s desk, and on the other side of the desk was a large, empty cage where the owl Hedwig lived.

Harry had no way to provide enough food for it. It could only fly out at night to look for it on its own.

There was a book on the floor that was open. Harry had read it before falling asleep last night.

The pictures in the book were moving, and the people in bright orange robes were riding fast on the brooms.

Figures were visible for a while, and they could not be seen for a while, and they threw a Quaffle to each other.

Harry walked over and picked up the book and slammed it shut.

Hermione’s letter and the stabbing pain of the scar on his forehead made him feel very bad.

Even Quidditch, the world’s most interesting sport for him, could not change this situation.

What’s more, Harry thought it was not the time to study Quidditch.

The scar was stinging him. Maybe Voldemort was nearby…

But Voldemort couldn’t be here right now. This idea was obviously absurd, absolutely impossible…

But this was obviously not normal, and he did not know what to do. Maybe he should tell somebody about it?

Harry first thought of Dumbledore. But he was hesitant. He didn’t know what to say to Professor Dumbledore.

“Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry Potter.”

Harry shook his head. Even inside his head, the words sounded stupid and ridiculous.

What’s more, he was still angry that Dumbledore didn’t tell him about Evan and Sirius.

Then he thought of his godfather, Sirius.

Sirius was indeed a good person to talk to, he was like his father. Although Harry was a bit shy at the thought of this, he had to admit it, no matter what he said to Sirius, he would not feel stupid.

He had experience in dealing with black magic and would make pertinent suggestions on the current situation.

But he was still in St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and Harry didn’t want him to worry about his own affairs.

As for his good friend Ron, Harry had his reaction in his mind.

Ron’s long nosed, freckled face seemed to drift toward the ground, with a dull, confused expression: “Harry, is your scar hurting? But, You-Know-Who can’t be near you now, can he? I mean, you’d know, Harry, wouldn’t you? He’d be trying to do you in again, wouldn’t he? Maybe curse scars always twinge a bit. Wait a minute, I’ll ask Dad…”

No matter from which perspective, Mr. Weasley was a fully qualified wizard.

He worked in the Ministry of Magic, but seemed to have no expertise in dealing with curses and black magic.

In any case, Harry didn’t like the idea of the whole Weasley family that he was getting jumpy about a few moments’ pain.

Mrs. Weasley might be too worried, and Fred and George might think that Harry was losing his mind.

As for Percy and Ginny, they would certainly become too worried….