From Azkaban to Hogwarts.

"Bigfoot!"

Lupin raised his voice slightly to make Sirius realize his mistake—he should have tried to avoid using words that sounded strange to Muggle ears.

"Just once...that's all."

Sirius said nonchalantly.

Lupin clearly thought so too, and the three of them walked out of Privet Drive laughing and joking. Harry took a taxi, and they headed to the newly opened French restaurant together.

About two hours later, the taxi took the three of them back to Privet Road.

"When Harry goes back to school, I'm going to get a Muggle driver's license!"

Sirius Black was carrying a large bag of snacks, saying as he walked, "These are the things we bought after our meal."

Harry carried a box of bagels from the restaurant in his left hand and a bunch of different bags in his right—Sirius's process for picking out clothes for him was: if it fits, pack it; if this one looks good, pack it…

Lupin followed at the back, cheerfully carrying a large bag of vegetables—these were purchased along with the snacks, and they were the vegetables for the rest of their shopping.

House-elves can always easily find the nearest market that caters to wizards, and the selection is not much different from that of supermarkets. However, the three of them discussed it and decided to buy some vegetables to make it look like they were there, in order to avoid creating too many unnecessary clues.

“It’s absolutely necessary,” Lupin agreed with Sirius’s plan to get a driver’s license. “You’re no longer fit to ride a motorcycle.”

"Motorcycle?"

Sirius paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. "I remember now, there was such a car, I think it was given to Hagrid."

"Wait until Christmas!"

He nodded affirmatively, "Around Christmas, we can go shopping together in our car!"

"Motorcycle?"

Harry was taken aback—he hadn't seen a motorcycle near Hagrid's hut.

But his attention was quickly drawn to the huge shadow next to his bushes—the other seemed to be making a clumsy attempt at concealment, but it was clearly extremely unsuccessful.

However, he was not worried about any danger because he had two trustworthy elders by his side.

Lupin and Sirius noticed Harry's dazed expression, but they deliberately left their hands free and didn't draw their wands.

They had seen that child before; he was the neighbor's kid—or at least that's what they said.

On the first day of summer vacation, when he was about to mock Harry as usual, Sirius successfully showed him the difference between his neighbor's house and his own with his eyes. This was the first time Sirius had seen him since then.

However, Dali did not pay attention to the fact that the three had already discovered him.

His gaze would involuntarily drift to the box of bagels in Harry's hand, then look away, only to drift back again, repeating this process over and over.

Harry hesitated for a moment, then pretended not to see anything and took the lead, hanging the box in his left hand on the fence and then taking out the key with his free hand.

"I'm home!"

He shouted it out, then took off his shoes, put the bag away, and finally lay down comfortably on the sofa.

Sirius and Lupin smiled and shook their heads, ignoring the box, and went into the house together before closing the door.

After making sure they had all gone back, Dali hesitated for a moment, then jogged over, picked up the box, continued to hide in the bushes, opened it, and took a satisfying bite.

-

Dear Ron:

How was your holiday?

Everything here is better than I imagined, even though Professor Lupin has moved in too… But after getting used to it a little, I don’t think it’s such a scary thing. At least Professor Lupin isn’t forcing me to do special training all the time.

You might not believe it, but with summer vacation going on for so long, I don't even know what the Dursleys' attitude is—maybe they're celebrating.

But none of that matters anymore. Aside from the Galleons the professor made me pay, which I mentioned to you last time, I... well, actually, I do care a little...

I've found that I don't hate Dudley as much anymore... The professor once told me that one day I might forgive them... I thought it was a joke at the time, but...

The professor is right…

When I have enough, or when I am strong enough, I have the power to forgive...

However, he added that some things cannot be forgiven, and it's understandable not to forgive this particular one…

Strange remarks... but I think they might be true...

For example, I gave Dudley a box of bagels out of good intentions, but when I heard the Dursleys next door were angry about the hidden bagels and Dudley was punished by having his allowance cut off, I felt happy again…

……

That's all for now. I've included a Muggle toy with this letter. I really like it, and I hope you do too.

Harry

Harry happily finished writing the letter and then started packing the toy—but before long, he stuffed in a bag of snacks that he thought were really good.

After hesitating for a moment, he stuffed in a few more bags of snacks, then took out the letter and added after the last sentence, "The snacks are great too, I hope you like them!"

"Hedwig, are you alright?"

Harry looked at the slightly large package, then hesitated before asking his owl.

But Hedwig shouted proudly and then gestured for Harry to tie the package up.

Have you... gained some weight?

Harry felt something was off about the way the ropes were tied, and on a whim, he blurted it out.

Hedwig then left proudly, while Harry, clutching his stinging finger from the peck, turned to leave, looking dejected.

"Huh? Where's Hedwig?"

Sirius Black, carrying a plate of dried fish, came up and habitually ruffled Harry's hair with his free hand. Looking at the empty cage, he asked curiously.

"Did you send a letter to your friend?"

Sirius glanced at the pen on the table. "Go down and get some pancakes. Dobby just made them; they taste amazing!"

-

"How is my speech preparation going?"

In the office, after reviewing a large pile of documents, Fudge asked his assistant.

"It's all ready, Minister. The paragraphs for sunny and cloudy days have been replaced with special ones, and a copy of the speech for each of the three possible outcomes of the competition has also been prepared."

The secretary responded quickly.

"So, is Albus willing to come?"

"A letter has already been sent in your name, but Headmaster Dumbledore said he is too old and prefers a quieter match."

"That's great... I mean, that's a shame."

“Yes,” the assistant said, as if he hadn’t heard anything, “it is indeed a great pity.”

Although he knew perfectly well that their Minister of Magic would absolutely not want Dumbledore to attend such a moment of glory, he said nothing.

"And what about... Harry Potter?"

Fudge hesitated for a moment, then asked casually.

"Dumbledore said that he wouldn't mind Harry Potter participating in some physical and mentally healthy sports if it could be kept safe enough."

That's great—do you have any good ideas?

Fudge hesitated for a moment, giving the impression that he was merely inviting a lucky winner.

"Hmm, Minister, perhaps we can provide Arthur Weasley with enough good enough tickets to sit in the top tier boxes."

After a moment's thought, the assistant immediately offered valuable advice to the minister.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, everyone knows that Harry Potter and the Weasleys are very close. If they had enough tickets, they would definitely invite their children's friends to watch the game!"

"If... I mean if..."

"I will take care of everything, Minister."

"Don't say it directly, and don't give hints. Let everything happen naturally."

“I’ll make him work hard to get the tickets, Minister, and Arthur won’t notice anything amiss, Minister.”

"You are a reliable member of our team."

Fudge nodded in satisfaction.

-

"It should be just ahead!"

Bertha, guided by her intuition, chose a direction and strode out.

"Your tent!"

The face behind her provided a clue.

So the witch, who had been striding forward, suddenly panicked and began frantically returning to her original spot to tidy up her forgotten tent.

'...Why should I give up on Quirrell?'

Voldemort began to regret it—this Bertha was more stupid than Goyle and Crabbe combined.

If he could find a suitable body to possess in this damned forest, he would never have deigned to appear on this idiot's body—she actually cried half the night last night because of the hair she lost!

It was just breakfast, but she almost burned down her own tent!

Not to mention that she didn't provide any useful information at all. Apart from some random things obtained through Legilimency, he didn't even dare to break the Oblivion Curse in this fool's mind, which was still not broken, because he had to possess her!

If he could find a replacement, he would even have the urge to throw her away like Quirrell!

'A disgrace to wizards!'

His narrowed eyes revealed a murderous intent—but that was unrealistic.

If he weren't such a fool, he wouldn't have been able to bewitch anyone in his current weakened state.

Lucius is outside, but he will never appear before him—only if he possesses invincibility will the Malfoys kneel and offer their loyalty; he learned this from old Malfoy back in school.

"We seem to be lost again, Lord Dark Lord!"

Bertha earnestly communicated with the Dark Lord on the back of her head using her own invented name—the extra face on the back of her head hadn't improved her terrible sense of direction or carelessness; the only boost in strength and more powerful magic it brought couldn't compare to the loss of her hair…