I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 542 I hate you, I hate all of you!

"These are letters and photos of your mother and father. During that difficult time, Sirius was busy with the Order of the Phoenix, so many letters and photos were lost. Over the years, only a portion has been recovered," Roy explained. "Some were collected by Mr. Dumbledore and salvaged from your family home—your old house in Godric's Hollow. You should know there was a fire that day. So not much was left."

"This is a coming-of-age gift for you, Harry," Roy said sadly, patting Harry's head. "Congratulations on turning seventeen. Happy birthday."

Roy's sadness stemmed from seeing the shadow of her sister, Owen's mother, in Harry.

Compared to Lily Evans.

Gabrielle's fate was even more tragic. She died the night Owen was born. The house she stayed in was a Muggle house she had randomly stumbled into. She left no belongings behind.

Even photographs—she didn't leave behind many. The few she did have were taken hastily during her time on the run.

It was a Muggle camera.

So much so that she can no longer remember what her older sister looked like when she walked.

"Thank you—" Harry exclaimed, carefully flipping through the photo album in front of him.

Roy didn't say anything more, but just looked at him calmly.

Meanwhile, the Dursleys finally managed to load everything into the car.

Vernon stood at the street corner, looking at Harry, who was engrossed in reading a 'book' and completely oblivious to them. A surge of resentment welled up inside him.

Then he said loudly, "Hmph—that's it, kid."

"Ready, Dada?" Aunt Petunia asked from the doorway, checking her son's handbag clasp while her eyes kept glancing at Harry—more at the photo album in his hand.

Dudley didn't answer; he stood there with his mouth slightly open.

"Let's go!" Uncle Vernon shouted from the front of the car.

He had already opened the car door when he suddenly heard Dali mutter, "I don't understand."

"Is there something you don't understand, honey?" Aunt Penny hurriedly looked away and asked her son.

Dudley pointed a thick, ham-like finger at Harry.

Why didn't he come with us?

In front of the street, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia stood frozen, staring blankly at Dudley, as if Dudley had just expressed his desire to become a ballet dancer.

"What?" Uncle Vernon asked loudly.

"Why didn't he come with us?" Dali asked.

"Oh, he—he doesn't want to go." Uncle Vernon finished speaking, then turned and glared at Harry standing in the doorway. "You don't want to go, do you?"

"Not at all," Harry said, closing the album and looking up.

"Is this alright now?" Uncle Vernon said to Dudley. "Okay, let's go."

Uncle Vernon got into the car.

Dudley seemed to be struggling with some thoughts that were difficult to express in words. After a moment of what appeared to be a painful internal struggle, he said, "I know what you're doing."

"Oh?" Harry said, holding the photo album to his chest, completely uninterested.

"You're a hero, Harry." Dudley's face flushed red, memories of the past churning within him. It was during a summer vacation a few years ago that he and Harry encountered a Dementor in the suburbs far from London.

Harry defeated his opponent with ease; it wasn't a difficult task, as most young wizards at Hogwarts could do, so he never mentioned it to Ron and the others.

But for Dudley, Harry saved his life.

"Oh, thank you, Dudley."

He eyed his cousin curiously; they had barely interacted this summer and the previous one. Harry's stay at Privet Drive would be short; since Sirius returned, he would only stay for a month before leaving again.

It was only then that Harry vaguely realized that the cup of iced tea he had kicked might not have been a prank at all. Although he was touched, he was relieved to see that Dudley's ability to express emotions seemed to have been exhausted.

They've been staring at each other for far too long.

Even if they reconcile now, they'll only go from enemies to strangers. The possibility of them becoming as harmonious as ordinary brothers is probably impossible in this lifetime.

"Alright, Dudley. Let's go." Aunt Penny forced a smile, walked over, patted Dudley on the shoulder, and tried to half-push him away.

But just then, she suddenly noticed that a photograph seemed to have fallen at Dudley's feet.

It must have fallen out of the photo album that Harry was holding by accident.

She only glanced at it.

And then I couldn't take my eyes off it anymore.

It was a photo of two girls together.

One girl has long, fiery red hair, while the other has short, light blonde hair. The blonde girl seems reluctant to have her picture taken; in the photo, she is glaring fiercely at the other girl.

hum-

Aunt Penny felt her mind go completely blank.

The invisible thoughts, no longer under control, surged backward.

Let's go back to the summer of 1977.

She remembered that one day her abnormal sister suddenly had a whim and insisted on taking her to take pictures.

I've heard that in photos from the magical world, the people in them are animated.

She disliked that world and didn't want to have anything to do with it.

I don't want to go at all.

But her parents were very interested in it.

Forced into it, she reluctantly posed for two photos with her abnormal younger sister.

One for my sister, one for her.

However, she tore up her own copy after she got home and discovered that the figure actually moved.

He was scolded by his mother for this.

However, in the end, her sister used her "magical powers" to restore the photo, which calmed her mother down.

Although she was reluctant, she did not tear up the photo but kept it.

After she married Vernon, she resolved to be a Dursley and avoid discussing her sister with anyone.

Although she felt somewhat guilty about severing ties with her sister.

Because she knew very well in her heart that Lily had always loved her.

But she just wouldn't admit it, wouldn't admit her resentment and jealousy, wouldn't admit that her sister was far superior to her, wouldn't admit magic and anything related to it.

Until October 31, 1981.

That morning, Penny woke up very early.

Her son is only a little over a year old, and she has to get up early to feed him.

The life of a housewife is very boring; whenever she has free time, her thoughts drift away.

Perhaps only at this moment did she truly live, live as Penny Evans.

The morning sunlight, like a painter, quietly sprinkles her brushstrokes across every corner of the room. The sun peeks out, letting its golden light filter through the gaps in the curtains, falling like fine silk threads and gilding the edges of the room with a soft golden glow.

Suddenly, a cry interrupted her thoughts.

It was her son crying.

As she picked Dali up from the stroller, she suddenly remembered that her sister had gotten married and that she had sent her a letter in July informing her that her son had been born.

She remembered the photo she had kept for many years.

That morning, when she finally found the photo in the bottom box of the wardrobe, she discovered that it had been torn in two, and the laughing figure could no longer move.

That day was the day Lily died.

"Give it back to me," Harry said calmly.

Aunt Penny seemed not to hear, staring blankly at the photograph in her hand.

Something seemed to spring up from her eye sockets.

"Give it back to me." Harry repeated. Although he couldn't see who the person in the photo was, the one that fell out of the album was his.

"No, I..." Aunt Penny said in a trembling voice, her eyes still fixed on the photograph in her hand.

Harry had never seen Aunt Petunia's eyes like that before. Guilt, resentment, regret, anger—a multitude of emotions surged within them.

It resembles a pot of thick soup.

"Aunt?" Harry took a step back; the current Penny felt like a stranger to him.

"Shh—" Roy reached out and stood in front of Harry.

Because of her position, she saw the image in the photo.

I realized something.

Dali froze on the spot, staring blankly at his mother, completely bewildered.

After a silence of about ten seconds...

Aunt Penny had just recovered from her grief.

She murmured, "Will you die too?"

"What?" Harry responded, confused.

"This war! This damned war!" she suddenly became agitated. "You'll die too, won't you, just like my stupid sister? Dying silently in the middle of nowhere."

"Do you know why I hate you, Potter!"

Harry didn't say anything, he just watched quietly.

"You think that night in Godric's Hollow, you only lost your mother?"

A wave of sadness, a sadness that had been suppressed for more than a decade, suddenly erupted.

She stared intently at Harry.

"You're just like your father, who only knows how to show off."

"And that reckless, arrogant Blake!"

"And that damn kid from Kirkworth."

"You know that, Potter? I will never forgive you. Never!!"

"Damn Potters killed my sister! Magic killed my sister!" Aunt Petunia roared angrily. Harry was stunned by the roar and stood there dumbfounded.

"I hate you! You killed my sister!"

"You killed my sister!!!"

The roar carried far.

Tears streamed down her face.

Vernon, startled, hurriedly got off the bus and came over. He had never seen his wife so heartbroken.

"Hey kid, what did you do?" He raised his fist to punch Harry.

However, Roy only glanced at him, which deflated his spirits.

Those cold, azure eyes possessed an indescribable, terrifying pressure.

It was already the height of summer, but Harry suddenly felt a chill.

The chill didn't come from Roy, but from someone else, his Aunt Penny standing in front of him.

Having lived with her for sixteen years, Harry never heard a positive description of his mother from her.

When she was a child, she mostly used "crazy" instead of "crazy".

After he learned the truth, she simply stopped mentioning it.

Harry never felt that Aunt Petunia had any deep affection for his mother; in his view, the two weren't even really sisters. Aunt Petunia kept it a secret; even the neighbors didn't know she had a sister.

They were like strangers.

until today

What Harry didn't understand, Roy did.

Suddenly she remembered an old book.

That story tells of a little prince from the stars.

Back then, she was naive and thought it was just an interesting story, even though her sister Gabriel told it to her many times. It wasn't until many years later, especially after her sister Gabriel passed away, that she understood.

It seems that Lily Evans was also a very unique little prince.

She waters people, she prays for people, she shelters people from the wind and rain.

She is the most beautiful rose in the world.

She tamed countless people.

Only when others leave her will she realize that it was absolutely a mistake.

She doesn't need anyone; on the contrary, those people need her.

Did you know that even the snakes of Slytherin would crawl out of their burrows, willing to bask in the sunlight, and listen to her voice; listen to her unique footsteps; while other snakes would hide underground, hers was different, her footsteps were as beautiful as music.

From then on, even that jasmine flower, which was useless to me, became precious.

Because it reminds me of her face, which is always full of joy.

The Dursleys all got into the car.

The sudden change seemed to have changed nothing.

After Aunt Penny had a good cry, she was still the same as before.

But the look of disgust in his eyes towards Harry only intensified.

That look in his eyes reminded Harry of Snape.

From the moment he entered Hogwarts, Snape looked at him with that same gaze for six years.

He didn't understand before, but now he understood a little. Snape hated him, even though he was Lily's child. In Snape's eyes, he was a jinx; although Voldemort was the one who did it, it was actually Snape who killed Lily. If his mother hadn't had him, Voldemort wouldn't have attacked her.

Then everything might be different.

His aunt probably had similar thoughts.

"Phew—" Harry took a deep breath.

Roy patted him on the shoulder and left with the Dursleys.

all of a sudden.

In the empty house, only Harry remained, and a strange sadness welled up in his heart.

He ran back to his bedroom, rushed to the window, and saw the Dursleys' car turn into the driveway and onto the road. Roy seemed to be giving instructions in the back seat, while Aunt Penny looked back to check on him.

Her gaze pierced through the glass and across the street, meeting Harry's eyes.

This time, Harry didn't see disgust—he even saw his aunt mutter something—though he couldn't hear the words, Harry knew it was his name, and then—"To live," those three words.

Harry picked up Hedwig's cage, grabbed his firebolt and backpack, and gave the bedroom, which was unusually tidy, one last look. With mixed emotions and lost in thought, he staggered downstairs to the living room.

Humans are so complicated—Harry thought to himself.

He couldn't understand why Aunt Penny had left him the message to live.

Doesn't she hate herself?

Doesn't she feel like she caused her sister's death?

If I can't figure it out, I might as well stop thinking about it.

Harry placed the birdcage, broom, and backpack at the foot of the stairs.

The light quickly dimmed, and the living room appeared heavily shadowed in the twilight, with silence all around.

Harry stood there, knowing he was about to leave this house forever, and it was a truly special feeling. Long ago, the Dursleys would go out; leaving him alone at home, those few hours of solitude were a rare treat; he'd quickly steal some treats from the fridge, then rush upstairs to the WandaCry computer and game console, or turn on the TV and choose channels at will.

Thinking back to those times, a strange sense of melancholy welled up inside him, as if he were thinking of a little brother he had lost.

"Don't you want to see this place one last time?" he suddenly asked Hedwig. The owl ignored him, burying its head under its wing in a huff, because Harry hadn't let it out to play all day.

Harry continued, seemingly oblivious to his own thoughts, "We'll never come here again. Don't you want to remember all the good times? I mean, look at this doormat by the door, and think about the past..."

After I rescued Dudley from the Dementors, he vomited on this mat...

I can't believe he still knows how to be grateful. And last summer, Dumbledore walked through that front door…”

Harry's train of thought was interrupted, and Hedwig did not help him find it; she remained motionless, her head hidden under her wing.

Harry turned around from the front door and quickened his pace. "Down here, Hedwig..." He opened a door at the bottom of the stairs, a door he hadn't seen in so long. "Right here, this is where I used to sleep! You didn't even know me then! Good heavens, it was so small, I don't even remember..."

Harry looked at the piles of shoes and umbrellas and remembered how every morning when he woke up, he would look up at the bottom of the stairs and there would always be one or two spiders there.

In those days, he was still completely unaware of his true identity, he hadn't figured out how his parents died, or why those strange things kept happening around him. Harry still remembered the dreams that had haunted him since then: chaotic dreams, flashing green lights, and one time—when Harry recounted this dream, Uncle Vernon almost crashed his car—because he dreamt of a flying light motorcycle…

Harry gazed at the small, dark cupboard with deep emotion. He remembered how dust would fall down on his head whenever Dudley stomped his feet on the stairs as a prank. Back then, he wore glasses taped shut and loose, old clothes that Dudley no longer wanted.

Many stories took place here. Looking back now, it all seems like a dream.

Vague and unattainable.

(End of this chapter)