The latest website: England, the eastern coastal city of Norwich.

Nelson was humming a little tune, holding a can of beer in his hand, and was walking home.

It was completely dark, but he didn't have to worry about being scolded by his wife for coming home late.

Because Nelson was a bachelor, he was thirty-six years old and had yet to start a family.

The reason for not being able to find a wife is actually very simple, nothing more than lack of money.

The former Nelson was also brilliant for a period of time. When he was young, he seized an opportunity to make a small fortune by reselling auto parts during the period when the British economy was the worst.

At that time, he even fantasized that maybe after he made a fortune and became a rich man, he would be able to marry the most beautiful girl in his hometown, Marissa.

Then he became addicted to gambling.

All the money was gone overnight, and he owed a lot of foreign debts.

After that, he naturally lived a life of impoverishment, and he did not quit his gambling addiction. As soon as he had some money, his first thought was to rush into the casino and win back all the losses he had previously lost.

But he has been trying for more than ten years and has never seen any hope of winning it back.

even once.

Nelson drank the beer drunkenly, and then looked up at the dark night sky. He felt that today's sky was like a black cauldron, and it was a little scary.

The icy wind blew through his body, making him a little awake, wrapping his thin coat tightly.

He looked around with erratic eyes, always feeling as if something strange was quietly following him.

His pace began to quicken, and he wanted to hurry up and walk in the direction of his broken house.

But that uneasy feeling not only did not disappear, but became more and more serious, and finally completely occupied his heart.

Everything around seems to have disappeared!

The whole world turned completely black, and it was pitch black everywhere, leaving him alone.

Fear had completely enveloped him, and Nelson cried out uneasily.

"What happened! What happened!"

No one responded to him, because something had silently appeared in front of him.

Nelson's face finally froze under that terrified expression, and he fell slowly and heavily to the ground.

"What's the matter!" A roaring voice suddenly sounded, "What happened!"

It imitates the dead words of the deceased, and gradually fades away, leaving only a yellow straw on the ground.

Everything was back to normal, and in the narrow alley, no one noticed this scene.

After a long time, a sonic boom like a whip whipping the air suddenly reminded me that two Aurors wearing the robes of the British Ministry of Magic appeared next to Nelson's body.

Kingsley crouched down, frowning to check on Nelson's condition.

"As in the previous two cases, the soul was sucked and the body was still alive."

His companion was a burly wizard named Williamson.

"The dementors again? They've been granted permission to go out and capture them since Black ran off that island."

Kingsley tapped Nelson with his wand.

"Seeing as the situation is indeed the case, there is nothing else in the magical world that can be done to this extent except for a dementor's kiss."

"Do you want to report this matter again? This is the third time!" Williamson said irritably.

"The ministry won't take it seriously. The most important thing now is that Black escaped. The safety of Harry Potter is the top priority. Even Minister Fudge has been having a headache about this."

Kingsley stood up, shaking his head and sighing.

"Forget it, let's report it again. I hope the Ministry can restrain those dementors."

"Wait, what is that?"

They looked in the direction of Williamson's finger, only to find it was just an ordinary straw.

"Don't be surprised, the dementors don't dare to attack us, hurry back and report this matter."

The two Aurors used Apparition to leave, leaving only Nelson's dead but not dead body, lying quietly in place.

A gust of wind blew past, blowing the straw far away.

......

When Sherlock took Harry back to Devon, it was already July 29.

They drove the flying car all the way from the sky. Except for a few times when they refueled on the way, they continued to fly.

Harry, who had a completely different result from the previous test, came back to his senses and asked Sherlock why they were in such a hurry to go back all of a sudden.

"A letter from the Ministry of Magic saying a criminal has escaped from Azkaban."

Sherlock's face was heavy, and Harry's face was inexplicable.

"What does that have to do with us going back?"

"The name of the criminal who escaped is Sirius Black, a former faithful believer of the mysterious man. Someone heard him say "Hogwarts" constantly in that prison some time ago. The Ministry of Magic speculated that he escaped because he wanted to Killing you to avenge his master."

Harry finally understood the whole process, and he didn't show any fear, but muttered.

"Then why do you have to go back? Waiting for him to be caught again abroad, wouldn't it be safer for us to go back to the UK?"

Sherlock told him seriously.

"Do you know why Dumbledore had to keep you at your aunt's house?"

"Why?" Harry had been thinking about this question all the time.

"Because that's where you're safest, and the protective magic your mother gave you requires you to stay with your blood relatives."

Sherlock reassured Harry by telling him what he had learned from Dumbledore.

A happy two weeks on the road with Sherlock had brought Harry's visceral disgust back to the Dursleys.

Sherlock also found this emotion in him, but he had to send Harry back again.

Hearing what Sherlock said, although Harry was still reluctant, he didn't show any resistance later.

He knew that he was honest and safe at the Dursleys, not only not to cause trouble for himself, but also to avoid causing trouble for others.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile when he looked at Harry who was silent.

"I remember that in two days, it will be your birthday?"

Harry said dully.

"No birthdays. I never had any birthdays at Aunt Petunia's."

"How about I bring a gift this year and come to your aunt's house to congratulate you?"

"They won't welcome you and might even kick you out."

"Then come to my house on your birthday. Anyway, it's only two blocks away. You can go back after your birthday is over."

Hearing him say this, Harry's eyes finally lit up.

"Can I stay at your house for a few days?"

He felt that since Sherlock's crow's mouth had expired, he didn't have to worry so much anymore, and he could live at Sherlock's house with confidence.

Sherlock didn't refuse, just reminded.

"There's nothing fun in my house. Even if you come here, it's boring."

"There's nothing worse than living at Aunt Petunia's," Harry said with certainty.

He was in a good mood again, and for the first time in history, he was looking forward to his birthday.

They reached Privet Drive in the early evening.

Sherlock sent Harry back to the Dursleys, and Penny and Vernon didn't show any good looks to him, not even a polite "would you like to come in and sit down".

But Sherlock didn't care if there was such a polite remark.

After that, instead of returning to his home immediately, he found a car rental company that rented a car and bought the Ford car he rented directly.

This car has been transformed into a magic tool, and it is estimated that there will be a big mess if you return it, so Sherlock simply buys it, maybe it will be used in ordinary times.

After returning home and resting for the night, he went directly to Diagon Alley using Apparation early the next morning.

Most of the shops here have just opened, and Sherlock walked directly into Gringotts Bank and took a large sum of money from his vault.

Then he went straight to Ollivander's wand shop.

Every summer vacation is undoubtedly the busy peak of Oliverd's wand shop. Young wizards who are preparing to enter the school will come to his shop to buy their first wand in their lives.

And it's not just because of the superb craftsmanship of his wands.

More importantly, he was the only one in the entire British wizarding world who sold wands.

On summer mornings, Ollivander deliberately opens the store half an hour earlier than usual to prepare for the new students.

The first person to enter his store today was a handsome young man.

"You are..." Ollivander asked hesitantly, looking at Sherlock who walked in the door.

Sherlock shrugged. "Does your store sell anything other than wands?"

"The original wand was accidentally damaged?" Ollivander frowned slightly, sensitive to adult wizards coming to his shop to buy a second wand.

Sherlock said vaguely: "Almost."

At this moment, a tape measure suddenly wrapped around him like a snake, measuring various data on his body.

"Name? And when did you enter Hogwarts?" Ollivander asked, pulling out a thick notebook.

Sherlock opened his arms so that the tape measure could be more easily measured.

"Sherlock Forrest, entered Hogwarts in 1982."

With the information provided by Sherlock, Ollivander quickly found his current data.

"The first wand you bought from me at that time was ebony wood, the heart of a fire dragon, 12 inches. Would you like to get a same size according to this standard?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"I want to re-select a new combination."

Ollivander nodded.

"That's right, people can change, but wands can't, so sometimes wizards of different periods are chosen by different wands."

As he spoke, he walked to the shelf full of wand boxes, and pulled out a box.

"Try this, pine with dragon heartstrings, 9 inches, a combination that should work well for you."

Sherlock took it from him, waved it, and uttered a spell.

"Fluorescent flashes."

The light came on from the tip of the staff, but it seemed to light up a little slowly.

"Oh, it doesn't look like this combination suits you very well." Ollivander shook his head and took the wand from Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock nodded too.

"It has a clogging feeling when using it, and it's not very smooth."

"What about this one? Redwood with phoenix tail feathers, 11 inches. This is a hot sale, and wizards often come to my store to ask if there is a redwood wand, and they always think that wand of this wood will Bring good luck."

Sherlock also used the wand to cast a Lighting Charm, but was still not satisfied.

"I'm not used to it, I always feel like I'm missing something."

Ollivander continued to search on his shelf, and then he pulled out another one in a babble.

"Laurus, Dragon's Heartstring, 14", try it. It's the most loyal wand, and if someone tries to steal a wand made of laurel, the wand will send out a lightning strike of its own to repel it. thieves."

Sherlock held the wand in his hand, and before using magic this time, he already felt his fit with the wand.

"Fluorescent flashes."

It was another lighting spell, and the magic was used very smoothly, without any dullness.

Seeing the perfect fit between this wand and Sherlock, Ollivander nodded with satisfaction.

"It seems that you have been through a lot, and there are very different wands that have made choices for you."

Sherlock twirled the laurel wand between his fingers for a long time, and the silver streamer danced on his fingertips. He was also very satisfied with the new wand.

"How many Galleons does this wand need?"

"Nine Galleons."

The Ollivander family is still a conscientious enterprise, monopolizing the wand industry in the entire British magic world, but has not raised the price of wands to a higher position.

Although there must be some reasons why the Ministry of Magic restricts his pricing, but the price of a wand is less than ten Galleons, which is indeed affordable enough.

He readily took out a heavy purse with a traceless stretch spell.

"Okay, give me a hundred!"

Ollivander nodded, just about to take the money from Sherlock, and then he reacted.

He opened his mouth, wondering if he had heard it wrong!

"How much do you want?"

Sherlock stretched out a finger ~lightnovelpub.net~ and repeated it.

"First come 100 sticks, then maybe I will ask for another 100 sticks. The materials must be touched with the sticks in my hand, and there can be no difference in length."

Ollivander stared blankly at Sherlock, as if he was seeing a lunatic.

"I remember that I saw a report about you in the Daily Prophet some time ago, aren't you the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts now?"

Sherlock nodded.

"That's right."

"Then why do you want so many wands? Are you going to wholesale from me, and then sell them second-hand in the magic world of some small country?" Ollivander asked suspiciously.

Sherlock waved his hand.

"I don't have the time, I just want to buy one for my own use, a hundred sticks, I'll ask if you sell them? If they don't sell, I'll go to Long Lane in France and ask Wenger's wand shop if they do this order. Business."