A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

"I heard you want to become an Auror?" Collins asked behind him with a hint of provocation.

“Yes,” Ron slowly turned his head and looked at her.

“Then you’d better work harder…otherwise you’ll be in for a rough time once you get in,” Collins said.

While Ron was still pondering the meaning of those words, Harry's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Collins, you wouldn't have already—"

“I’m glad you realize that, Harry.” Collins smiled, her eyes narrowing, which made her thick eyebrows stand out even more, like two caterpillars. She said happily, “I’m a prospective Auror now, and Ms. Burns wrote back to me herself—”

“That’s impossible!” Ron shouted.

Collins pulled a letter out of his pocket with a smug look on his face. "It arrived this morning... It's a bit messy, but I can understand. I guess she must have been very busy these past few days."

Harry stared dumbfounded at the note dangling in front of him. The handwriting was beyond illegible; it looked like it had been chewed by a dog. Worse still, Harry felt the handwriting looked strangely familiar.

It was written by Sirius Black.

“Wait a minute—” Ron also noticed something. He squinted at the note, seemingly still confirming it.

Harry quickly patted Ron on the back and said awkwardly in a loud voice, "Collins, you admire Ms. Burns a lot?"

Collins hummed twice and put the note away with satisfaction.

"Of course, my goal is to become the next Minister for Magic."

Hermione returned just then, clearing her throat behind Collins. "So, I have a rival now?" she said with a stern face.

Collins turned around and scrutinized Hermione with a critical look. "You want to be Minister for Magic too?"

Sparks seemed to fly between the two girls' eyes, making Harry and Ron tremble. Hermione straightened her back and met Collins's gaze.

"What are you thinking? Do you want to make history and become the first Muggle-born Minister of Magic?"

“There already is, Nobi Ritchie, he was the first,” Hermione said without hesitation.

"That was the first Muggle-born female Minister of Magic?" Collins said immediately.

“I’m not really interested in that title, I just feel that some things have to be done by someone…” Hermione stared at Collins’ face and asked seemingly casually, “By the way, do you have any house-elves at home?”

“Yes,” Collins said.

"Are you two on good terms?" Hermione asked immediately afterward.

"Not bad—" Collins was confused.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Then we've found some common ground. I started an organization, well, it's temporarily suspended... but if you're interested..." She pulled Collins to a corner.

Harry and Ron looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Hermione wouldn't be thinking—"

"Highly likely..."

They stared intently at Collins and Hermione's faces. The hallway was so noisy that they couldn't hear a word they were saying; Harry and Ron could only observe the girls' expressions. A moment later, Hermione strode in triumphantly.

"You succeeded?" Ron asked incredulously.

“Oh, how should I put it?” Hermione shook her head. “She’s quite interested, but she’s very resistant to the name.”

“That’s strange,” Ron said dryly. “Why can’t a house-elf rights association be called ‘Vomiting’?”

“I already said! It’s not vomiting, it’s…!” Hermione said angrily.

Just then, a horseless carriage rumbled towards them, and they hurriedly jumped into one. Harry stared absently at the shafts for a moment. "There's something there, isn't there? A kind of horse called—uh, a Thestral?"

It was strange that he hadn't noticed this for almost four years. But once he learned the name from the book, he could see many anomalies—faint breathing, the sound of hooves on the ground, so obvious.

Hermione stared at the blank space. The carriage began to move forward, pulled by an invisible force.

“I’ve only seen these creatures in pictures… Of course, I’m not disappointed; they don’t have a good reputation… It’s related to their characteristics; only those who have witnessed death can see them, perhaps due to a unique principle of invisibility…”

“Luna can see Thestrals,” Ron suddenly said, then explained, “I overheard Ginny talking.”

Hermione glared at Ron and said sarcastically, "You certainly don't shy away from it."

“I didn’t mean it,” Ron said with a shrug. “It was shortly after the Christmas holidays, and she was planning to get Luna a birthday present…”

Harry suddenly remembered his experience at 'Store Number One in Tomorrowland' before school started. Luna had come with her father, and despite knowing her for so long, she never seemed to mention her mother.

“Hopefully we’ll never see it,” Ron said hopefully as he got out of the car. “Though it’s a little unlikely—I mean, very likely!”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a few smirks.

The sky was cloudless, but all three of them felt somewhat melancholy.

They found an empty carriage on the train that had stopped early at Hogsmeade Station. Harry placed Hedwig's cage in a corner, as far away from Ron's pigs as possible—the pigs were too noisy and had already disturbed Hedwig's nap. Hermione's Crookshanks huddled in the empty seat next to her, looking like a ginger cushion.

"Is Krum going to invite you to spend the summer with him?" Harry asked, having heard Hermione mention it before.

“Yes,” Hermione said, “but I refused, and you know, in this situation…”

At that moment, the door was pulled open from the outside.

Fred poked his head out, grinning, and asked, "Want to play cards?" He slipped in, "Don't push me, George."

“I don’t have one—this door seems to be broken!” George slammed the door shut, making a loud “bang” sound.

"Ouch!" A scream almost brushed against George's ear. The door slammed shut.

George took a few steps back in fright, staring at the doorway in astonishment.

“There’s something there,” he said confidently.

Without him saying anything, the people in the private room also noticed the anomaly. Outside the glass window, a round, frightened face appeared in the air.

"It's Crabbe!" Harry shouted. He realized something, immediately drew his wand, and looked around, searching the air around him.

"What—" Ron and Hermione asked breathlessly, Ron's mouth still stuffed with a large piece of crucible cake. But their long-standing understanding made them simultaneously draw their wands.

Half a gleaming wand was thrust out of the air. Harry's eyes widened. In the blink of an eye, it was as if someone had lit a box of fireworks in the box. Spells shot out from different angles, and bright lights and loud noises erupted in the confined space.

Once everything quieted down, Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked down at Draco and Goyle, who were lying unconscious in the corner, while Fred squatted down beside them, observing them.

"They seem to have used a Disillusionment Charm, which resulted in a strange reaction with the curse on their bodies..."

Draco and Goyle were covered in bruises, and had grown all sorts of hair and pustules, looking quite miserable.

George opened the carriage door, glanced quickly to both sides, and turned to say, "That fat boy ran away—who used the Hairy Charm?" He asked, examining Draco on the ground.

“Me,” Harry said.

“A wonderful effect, Fred, what do you think? Maybe we can develop a hairy series?” he said approvingly.

Finally, they put Draco and Goyle in the next carriage and came back to play Bomb.

Fred and George were having a great time, and when they got to the fifth game, Harry couldn't help but ask them, "Is there anything fun going on?"

"Are we being too obvious?" Fred and George exchanged a glance and asked in unison.

“Yeah, stop being so mysterious,” Ron muttered, his face covered in notes. “We need some fun.”

“Well then,” George said seriously, “we can’t wait.”

"What can't wait?" Harry asked.

"A prank on the professor...didn't we say we'd try it on his next birthday?" Fred said with a smile. "But then I thought, it would be such a waste to wait a whole year."

“What did you do?” Harry asked, holding his breath. “The professor will definitely find out.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Fred retorted. “We borrowed from Mick the Wizard of Oz… the scare boxes, even the springs and scary dolls are handmade. I don’t believe he could have discovered them beforehand.”

"What kind of doll is it?" Ron asked in surprise.

“A monster without a nose,” Fred said without hesitation.

Ron coughed violently, sending cake crumbs flying. "God...mysterious man?"

“You guessed it. Great idea, isn’t it? We think it won’t be outdated in another year or two,” George said with a grin.

Hermione looked up from her magic journal, staring in astonishment at the twins. They must have put a lot of thought into coming up with such a method...

Meanwhile, Felix sat cross-legged on the roof, one hand supporting his chin, idly watching the scenery rushing by. He reached out his other free hand and flicked the bald doll's head, which immediately began to swing back and forth on the spring.

"The craftsmanship is quite exquisite, and the audacity is astounding... I hope a few Death Eaters will come along on the journey so I can practice my skills." Felix said through gritted teeth, though he would never admit that for a moment he was genuinely frightened.

……

The Hogwarts Express passed through villages and towns, finally stopping at King's Cross Station without incident. As Harry stepped off the platform, he said goodbye to his companions, catching a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. He turned around, but the person seemed to vanish in an instant.

Strange, is that a professor? Or is he seeing things?

“I said, what are you waiting for?” Uncle Vernon looked at Harry with an angry gaze—or rather, at the cage containing the owl, his facial muscles twitching.

Harry shrugged, strangely unmoved. Compared to the troubles to come, the Dursleys weren't so unbearable.

Chapter 493 Red Scar

As dusk fell, a tall figure appeared on the edge of the Muggle town. He turned into a side road and walked for more than ten minutes in the dim woods. There was no road ahead, but he did not stop and went straight to a dilapidated old house.

"Knock knock!"

The knocking sounded rhythmically.

With a tooth-grinding creak, the door was carefully opened from the inside.

"Who?"

A hoarse voice, as if it had been soaking in a jar of salt water for days and nights, asked. Immediately afterwards, a magic wand trembled as it was offered from the darkness.

"Red Scar Lydon Seymour?" the young voice asked.

The stranger ignored the wand pointing at him, instead looking down at a list, clicking his tongue as he read aloud with interest, "Ryden Seymour, born in the famous town of Timothy, born in 1847, raised by his aunt, well—though you're a man, that doesn't stop you from inheriting all sorts of bizarre dark magic, smuggling and selling dark magical items, and investing all your profits in dark magic research. During the Wizarding Wars, you chose to aid Voldemort, and it's said you were even praised by the Death Eaters' higher-ups..."

"Is it you?"

The visitor looked up, revealing a young face with light blue eyes that seemed to glow, and occasionally a few magical runes would flash in his pupils.

The wand fell to the ground.

"You are, you are, you are—Felix Heap! You, you've finally come to my door!" The dark wizard named Raden Mosier slumped against the doorframe, the dim light from outside shining on him, revealing a terrified face.

The man before me was dressed in the typical attire of a dark wizard. He was completely shrouded in a black, airtight robe, and was emaciated. The traces of various magical experiments could be faintly seen on his exposed skin. His right index finger was covered with a layer of silver powder, but upon closer inspection, one could see that it was just wrinkled skin. A patch of tender red flesh was exposed on his neck, twisting and climbing up half of his face. It was bright red and seemed to have just healed, but the mark had been there for over twenty years.

His nickname originated from this.