"You can see it too, Harry," Dumbledore increased his volume, overwhelming Kreacher's non-stop yelling, "Kreacher doesn't want to be yours."

Insert an app: Perfectly re-engrave the old version of the book-chasing artifact, an interchangeable app-Mimi Read.

"I don't care," Harry looked at the house-elf who was twisting and stomping in disgust, and said again, "I don't want him."

"Then you would rather let him fall into the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange?

Don't forget, he has been living in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix last year! "

Harry looked at Dumbledore blankly.

He knew that Kreacher would never be allowed to live with Bellatrix, but he felt disgusted when he thought that Kreacher would belong to him and that he was responsible for this guy who had betrayed Sirius.

"Give him an order."

Dumbledore said, "If he belongs to you now, he will have to obey. If you don't want him, we must think of other ways to keep him from being with his legal mistress."

Kreacher was screaming hoarsely, and Harry couldn't think of anything to say, so he shouted: "Kreacher, shut up!"

Suddenly, Kreacher seemed to be choked. He pinched his throat, his mouth still moving in anger, and his eyes protruding outward.

He gasped for a few seconds, then suddenly fell forward on the carpet, hitting the floor with his hands and feet, and launched a fierce but absolutely silent temper.

"Okay, so things are easy,"

Dumbledore said happily, "It seems Sirius has a clear head.

You are the rightful owner of 12 Grimmauld Place and Kreacher. "

"I-- do I have to take him with me?"

Harry asked in horror, Kreacher wiggling violently at his feet.

"If you don't want to, you don't have to."

Dumbledore said, "I might as well make a suggestion. You can send him to Hogwarts and let him work in the kitchen, so that other house elves can watch him."

"it is good,"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, "Just do it.

Hmm—Kreacher, I want you to go to Hogwarts and work with other house elves in the kitchen there. "

Kreacher was lying flat on the ground at the moment, with his feet upside down, rolling his eyes and looking up at Harry resentfully.

Then, there was another loud popping sound, and he disappeared.

"Very good," said Dumbledore. "There is one more thing about Buckbeak, the eagle-headed horse-winged beast.

Since Sirius died, Hagrid has been taking care of him, but Buckbeak now belongs to you, so if you are willing to make other arrangements—"

"No," said Harry immediately, "just let it be with Hagrid. I think Buckbeak would like to do that too."

"Hagrid will be very happy."

Dumbledore smiled and said, "By the way, for Buckbeak's safety, we decided to temporarily rename it to Stuffed Wing. In fact, I don't believe the Ministry of Magic would guess that it is the eagle-headed horse that they once sentenced to death. Winged beasts.

By the way, Harry, are your boxes packed? "

"Ok……"

"Don't believe I will come?"

"I'll go—um—pack it up."

Harry said quickly, hurriedly picking up the binoculars and sneakers that fell on the ground.

It took him more than ten minutes to find everything he needed.

Finally, he finally pulled out his invisibility cloak from under the bed, screwed on the lid of the bottle of color-changing ink, and pressed the lid of the box firmly on the crucible.

Then, carrying the box in one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other, he came downstairs.

He was disappointed to find that Dumbledore was not waiting in the hall, which meant he had to go back to the living room.

No one spoke.

Dumbledore hummed a little tune softly, looking contented, but the air in the room was heavier than the frozen custard.

Harry dared not look at the Dursleys, but said, "Professor—I'm ready."

"There is one last thing," he turned to the Dursleys again, "you no doubt realize that Harry will be an adult in a year—"

"Do not."

Aunt Petunia said that this was the first time she had spoken since Dumbledore had arrived.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"No, he is not an adult. He is one month younger than Dudley. Dudley won't be eighteen years old until the next year."

"what,"

Dumbledore said kindly, "But in the wizarding world, you will be an adult at the age of seventeen."

Uncle Vernon murmured absurdity, but Dumbledore ignored him.

"You already know that now, the wizard named Voldemort has returned to this country.

The wizarding world is currently in a state of open warfare.

Voldemort has tried to kill Harry many times, and Harry is now in a more dangerous situation than when I put him on the steps of your house fifteen years ago.

At that time I left a letter explaining that his parents had been killed and I hope you will take care of him like your own children~lightnovelpub.net~Dumbledore stopped, even though his voice was still so relaxed , Calm, without the slightest anger on his face, but Harry felt a chill radiating from him.

He noticed that the Dursleys were squeezing each other tighter.

"You didn't do what I said. You never thought of Harry as your own son. All he was in your hands was neglect and regular abuse.

Fortunately in misfortune, he at least escaped the terrible injury you caused to the unlucky boy sitting among you. "

Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon turned their eyes instinctively, seeming to think that it was not Dudley who was sitting between them, but someone else.

"We... abused Dudley? You are—"

Uncle Vernon said angrily, but Dumbledore raised a hand to signal for silence, and the room immediately fell silent, as if he had suddenly turned Uncle Vernon into a mute.

"The magic that I used 15 years ago means that Harry will be strongly protected while he can still be his home.

No matter how pitiful he is here, how unpopular, and how abused he is, you at least reluctantly give him a place to stay.

When Harry turned seventeen, that is, when he became a man, this magic would fail.

I just ask for one thing: you allow Harry to return to this home again before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that that kind of protection will last until that time. "

None of the Dursleys said a word. Dudley frowned slightly, as if still wondering what abuse he had been subjected to.

Uncle Vernon looked like something got stuck in his throat, and Aunt Petunia blushed inexplicably.

"Well, Harry... we should go now."