A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

“Brilliant?” Dumbledore said with a smile, “Have you seen any news about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew in the newspapers? Including Peter’s last words?”

"He did it on purpose?" Felix asked in surprise. He had only seen a brief mention of the Ministry of Magic in a small newspaper article a long time ago, which had barely caused a stir.

“I think it’s just going with the flow… All the students saw the Dementors go out of control, but few know what happened back then. In Fudge’s opinion, perhaps Sirius’s case is more sensitive,” Dumbledore said. “A hero was imprisoned for twelve years without trial, while a traitor received the Order of Merlin First Class and lived a peaceful life… Even though it didn’t happen during his term, the public doesn’t care that much. Besides—Voldemort is involved.”

Felix nodded, understanding Fudge's thinking: since the Dementors were out of control and could no longer be concealed, then let it go, since Umbridge was still there as a shield. However, if it involved wrongful convictions or Voldemort, it had to be kept from the public.

"I guess he pinned all his hopes on those two tournaments, the Quidditch World Cup and the Quidditch Championship."

Dumbledore agreed, saying, "Using extravagance to mask emptiness is Fudge's specialty. So he wanted to involve more schools and expand his influence. In fact, he sent invitations to ten magic schools, but few responded."

……

Felix is ​​nestled among the mountains, in the Carpathian Mountains, known as the "backbone of Romania," where the Romanian Fire Dragon Reserve is located.

Although there are many dragon farms around the world, the Romanian Fire Dragon Reserve is the most unique—the dragons here are semi-free-range, and more than 100 professionals from all over the world work here, including dragon trainers, dragon breeders, and fire dragon research experts.

Here, you can find almost every known species of fire dragon in the world.

Felix watched as seven or eight wizards surrounded a Romanian horned dragon with a large, bloody hole in one of its wings, and the dragon trainers tried to calm it down.

He walked down the hillside and observed the dragon up close. It had dark green scales and long, gleaming golden horns. Its eyes were wary and irritable, and it was stamping its feet restlessly.

“Relax—we mean no harm, you need healing,” a wizard shouted, his companions warily surrounding him, their wands constantly aimed at the fire dragon in heat, especially since it had failed and was probably in a bad mood.

The longhorned dragon flapped one of its wings, spitting out a few sparks from its nostrils.

“Watch out, it’s going to breathe fire—Charlie, use the Stunning Charm!” another wizard shouted.

The dragon trainer named Charlie shouted, "Find the right moment, wait for it to expose its belly, and we'll do it together—now!"

"Stun it!" they shouted in unison. The Stun Spell landed like a rocket on the thick hide of the longhorn's belly. Its raised hind legs wobbled precariously, wisps of smoke rising from its nostrils. It looked down blankly at its surroundings, and then slowly, very slowly, it collapsed.

"Good job!"

A middle-aged wizard patted Charlie on the shoulder and said with relief, "I can rest assured that you can lead the team alone now." His companions also gathered around. Due to years of living in the wild, these people had very rough skin, tanned to a dark brown, and looked weathered and worn.

'So it was him.' Felix thought to himself, Charlie Weasley, two years younger than him, with an exceptional talent for Quidditch, a former captain of the Gryffindor team, and a Quidditch Cup winner.

However, Felix wasn't interested in Quidditch when he was in school, so he didn't recognize him at first. He didn't even remember what the Slytherin captain's name was back then.

Besides, Charlie Weasley was very different from his memory. Although he still had a nice, broad face and the freckles that were typical of the Weasley family, his skin wasn't this dark when he was in school, and he didn't have a shiny, burn scar on his arm.

Felix stood quietly to one side, startling the others, who had been focused on the fire dragon and hadn't noticed the sudden appearance of someone beside them.

"Who are you? Don't you know it's dangerous here? Why are you standing so close?" The middle-aged wizard frowned as he sized up the young man in front of him. Felix's face was deceptive, making him think that this was some reckless fellow who had come to explore out of excessive curiosity.

Every year, there are always people like this, often recent graduates traveling to various places, and the Fire Dragon Reserve is a very tempting option.

“Felix Heap, Professor of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts,” Felix said casually, “reviewing the candidates for the Tournament on behalf of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.”

The middle-aged wizard looked at him suspiciously. Are professors all this young these days?

“Captain!” Charlie Weasley stepped forward. “I know him. Let me greet him.”

"Is he really a professor?" After receiving an affirmative reply, the captain waved his hand: "Alright, since you're friends, I'll leave it to you. The rest of you! Repeat the Levitation Spell with me and take the fire dragon away."

Charlie looked at Felix earnestly: "The captain meant no harm; he's a good person."

Felix chuckled. "Charlie Weasley, I'm curious what image I have in your mind."

Charlie didn't speak. What image? Of course, he was the shadow of a generation. As a pure Gryffindor, he still found it quite satisfying to watch Felix deal with Slytherin students when he was in school.

This resulted in Felix having a very good reputation in the other three houses, but his excessive aggression was also widely acknowledged, and everyone kept their distance from him.

“Our campsite is over there, I’ll take you there,” Charlie said, pointing to the foot of the mountain. “It’s by a stream, we’ll stay in a tent.”

Along the way, Charlie described the environment to him: "The Carpathian Mountains are vast, covering 40% of the country's land. Besides forests, there are rocky beaches, swamps, and caves..."

"Won't the fire dragon start a wildfire?" Felix asked with interest.

“This situation is quite rare. They don’t rely on breathing fire to hunt. For example, the Romanian hornosaur just now liked to fight its prey to the death with its horns, bring it back to its nest in the mountains, and then breathe fire to roast the prey,” Charlie said. “They only use fire to attack or intimidate when they encounter agile and difficult opponents, or when fighting among their own kind, and the victor will often extinguish the flames on its own.”

He said with emotion, "This is their home." The two looked up and watched a silver-blue fire dragon sweep across the sky.

Charlie led Felix to a tent area. It was clear that he was well-liked; many people greeted him as they arrived, and he responded to each one.

"We need to register here. How long do you plan to stay?" He took out a notebook.

Felix thought for a moment: "Two or three days, I'm very interested in this place."

Charlie frowned. "I thought it would take half a day... I need to ask the captain for permission, please wait a moment." He left in a hurry and returned quite a while later, looking puzzled. "They've gone out again. Let me show you around the area first."

As darkness fell, on the other side—

Harry, Ron, and Hermione got off the train and walked out of King's Cross Station together. Harry wasn't in a good mood. Even though he had a godfather, he still had to return to the Dursleys, which Dumbledore had insisted on, and he couldn't refuse.

Sirius Black hadn't appeared for a while, and if Harry hadn't received a letter on the train, he would have suspected that Sirius had forgotten he had a godson.

Mrs. Weasley gave him a warm hug and invited him to watch the Quidditch World Cup together, which cheered Harry up a bit, but his mood turned gloomy again as they parted and he pushed his luggage toward Uncle Vernon alone.

Two whole months...

Uncle Vernon greeted him in his usual manner. “What’s that?” he roared, glaring at the envelope Harry was still clutching. “If it’s another form I have to sign, then you absolutely must…”

“It’s not a form,” Harry said sternly. “It’s a letter from my godfather.”

"Godfather?" Uncle Vernon spat as he spoke. "You don't have any godfather!"

“No, I do,” Harry said, his mood magically improving. “He was my mom and dad’s best friend, a convicted murderer, but he escaped from the magical prison. This is what he sent me; I can show you the name on the letter…”

Uncle Vernon's face twitched, his small eyes filled with fear.

Harry was still cheerfully making up stories about Sirius Black, trying to secure some perks for his long summer vacation: "...Sirius Black, the one on TV, he's still on the run, hasn't been caught yet, but he's willing to keep in touch with me to make sure I'm getting through this—"

Harry's eyes widened as his gaze passed over his Uncle Vernon, who was as fat as a wall, and into a corner of the station, not far from them, a man dressed in hippie attire leaned against the wall. The man wore a pointed hat that covered most of his face, and a half-smile played on his lips.

The man pushed off his hat, revealing Sirius Black's radiant smile: "Harry, what you're saying really hurts my feelings..."

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed in surprise.

Chapter 317 Protection

Uncle Vernon was driving in the front seat, his face turned a purplish-red, and his small eyes were peeking at Harry and Sirius in the back seat through the car's small mirror.

Harry could hardly believe his good fortune. Despite the embarrassment of being caught lying by his godfather, he was now filled with joy. In the minutes before getting off the train, he was still brooding over the prospect of spending at least six weeks with the Dursleys. He could easily imagine what it would be like: enduring two days of glares and then, one night, breaking into the cupboard downstairs to do his summer homework.

Then he counted down the days, hoping the Weasleys would take him away from his misery. It would be even better if someone sent him a letter during this time. He was most confident about Ron, Hermione, Dobby, and Sirius; at least there would be a birthday card. He even started to think that the Dursleys were in Surrey, the Burrow in Devon, and Hermione in London. If the Grangers didn't have any travel plans, perhaps they would meet during the summer holidays...

Sirius's words interrupted the dazed Harry: "I've prepared a birthday present for you, I'm sure you'll like it."

"What is it?"

"I can't say, I've been holding back for a long time, but I can tell you it's absolutely perfect, James will definitely love it..."

Uncle Vernon turned a corner, his hands a little stiff, his mind racing with all sorts of thoughts: a hippie wizard who looked not much different from the one he had seen more than ten years ago, or even worse. Was he planning to live in his house?

He doesn't have a habit of helping poor relatives, and he's a murderer, or at least he's been to prison!

"boom!"

The car suddenly had a tire blowout with a loud bang, and the people inside were thrown to one side by the inertia. "Watch out, Harry!" "Ouch!" "Damn it!"

Uncle Vernon slammed on the brakes, the remaining three good tires locking up and sparking as they scraped the pavement. The car came to a stop. Uncle Vernon, having reached his limit, spat and cursed, a string of profanities flying from his mouth. Harry stared at him, dumbfounded. His brain must have been spinning like crazy. Perhaps he'd calm down a bit over the next couple of days from overuse?

Uncle Vernon only shut up when Sirius Black said with a dark face, "If you don't shut up, I'll glue your mouth shut." But after a couple of seconds, he muttered under his breath, "You're not a murderer, you said it yourself."

“I don’t need you to remind me! Want me to show you what I learned in Azkaban?” Sirius roared, but his threat didn’t work well, because Uncle Vernon didn’t know where this place was. Harry whispered that it was a wizarding prison, and his little carrot-like fingers trembled before finally quieting down.

Uncle Finnon struggled to open the car door and get out. Unable to squat down, he could only lie on the ground, grumbling, "Front tire blowout, still halfway home, calling a tow truck will cost money... everything's going wrong..."

Sirius Black got out of the car, his hippie attire attracting many curious glances. Uncle Vernon growled at him in a low voice, "Can't you just sit back quietly? I'll call a tow truck, in case someone questions you..."

Sirius Black pulled out his wand clipped to his jeans and used Uncle Vernon's massive size to shield himself: "Excuse me, could you block this for me?" A tiny flash of light appeared, and the tires were instantly undamaged.

Uncle Vernon stared blankly at everything, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. He roared, "Magic!" His first two syllables were so loud, like a lit firecracker, but he quickly noticed something amiss, his small eyes scanning the room rapidly before swallowing his words.

"You think I'd be grateful to you! Freak, maggot in the sewer! Like a little monster—"

Sirius moved his wand toward Uncle Vernon's triple chin and said coldly, "I can already imagine how you're going to treat Harry."

Everyone remained silent for the rest of the journey until the car was about to enter Privet Road, when Uncle Vernon suddenly thought of a problem: how could he bring this trouble into his home without attracting attention?

Harry thought this wasn't driving at all; he could walk faster. The car was just inching forward.

Sirius Black also realized he was unpopular, perhaps he had known from the beginning, but he wanted to see how Harry was doing, so he suppressed his temper, but now he was on the verge of exploding.

"Stop the car," Sirius said. The car stopped immediately.

He handed Harry a mirror: “This is a two-way mirror, there are two of them, and I have another one here. If you want to find me, just call out to me in this mirror, and you will appear in my mirror, and I will appear in your mirror and talk to you. In the past, when James and I were not together, we used this to communicate.”

He looked at Uncle Vernon: "You're not planning to stop me, are you?"

"Of course...no."

Harry took the mirror, looked it over, and noticed it resembled the Weasley twins' matching mirror. He had secretly bought it, intending to give it to some people he knew, but the twins insisted on not accepting money, so he felt embarrassed to take more than he should.

Harry whispered, "Are you leaving?"

“Yes, I know this place, number 4 Privet Drive,” Sirius said. Uncle Vernon flinched, but Sirius ignored him and continued, “Dumbledore told me that your uncle’s house is enchanted, protecting you from unwanted attention…”

He turned to Uncle Vernon and said coldly, "This is also to protect you, you should know that."

"A spell has been cast?" "What have you done to my home?!"

Sirius said, "Dumbledore didn't go into details, but I guess it's some kind of powerful protective magic, maybe something like the Faithful Charm? I don't know..." He quickly changed the subject.

Sirius lied. He had a heated argument with Dumbledore about Harry's custody, and to appease him, Dumbledore revealed more inside information.

Harry has two layers of protection, one of which comes from his mother.

It was an ancient spell, requiring an extremely long preparation time. It belonged to the same category of spells that mobilized mental power as powerful curses, but the former was more difficult, requiring one to transform all their love into a protective force. It was a spell that Lily Evans prepared for her unborn child.

But this is only the first step of the magic. Using blood ties as the bond for casting spells is not uncommon in the magic world. What is rare is that this ancient magic has a follow-up. If the blood relative casting the spell voluntarily chooses to sacrifice himself, it can greatly enhance the power of the magic, and any spells with malicious intent will automatically bounce off.

"This magic protected Harry once and should have ended there, but I prolonged its effect. At that time, I faced a choice: target a group of people or just one? What was there to hesitate about? Even though Voldemort had disappeared at that time, yes, I admit he was only missing, five years, ten years, twenty years... he would definitely come back, and I had to make a decision then. While others were still celebrating their hard-won victory, I was already thinking about what would happen when Voldemort returned."

So I made the logical choice, which was also the strongest protection I could offer Harry—as long as he continued to call the place where he shared his mother's blood his home, he would be protected from Voldemort.

"For this reason, he goes back at least once a year and stays for a period of time."

The second layer of protection came from Dumbledore, who used layers of magic to cover No. 4 Privet Drive, but could not completely seal it off. To this end, he set a condition: anyone from the wizarding world with malicious intent would not be able to find this place. Even if the address was accidentally leaked, they could only target a nearby area at most, wandering around like headless flies trying their luck. And Dumbledore would receive the news long before that.

This was to prevent the remnants of the Death Eaters from seeking revenge, protecting both Harry and the Dursleys.

"I left this information in Harry's swaddling clothes to explain everything. Once I was sure they had accepted Harry, I left with peace of mind and high hopes for the future. I know the Dursleys weren't exactly friendly, but that was exactly what I needed at the time. I didn't want Harry to grow up in a spoiled environment or be blinded by honor because of things he didn't remember at all."