Harry lifted the birdcage on the table to the ground, making it empty. He slumped into the chair at the table, lost in thought.

Harry knew that his scars had some magical abilities and had an inexplicable connection with Voldemort. Whenever Voldemort appeared by his side, his scars would be as keen as a detector to detect him and then call the police to himself. .

The alarm signal is stinging.

That's why Harry was so uneasy.

Harry sat at the table, listening silently to the sounds outside. If Voldemort was by his side, would he have come to Privet Drive? Could he be standing in a corner of the street peeping at him? Harry was a little distracted. He is irritable. For a split second he felt Voldemort standing behind him, grinning at him.

But he grabbed his wand and turned back suddenly, and behind him was the still-looking messy bed. There was some noise outside the window, but it was just a dog barking in the distance at night.

As for the Dursleys, they're all drowsiness at the moment!

Harry was a little jealous of them, silly, naive, not bothered at all - those Muggle infighting wasn't bothersome at all.

Harry sighed, even though the scar was hurting, he didn't know what to do, he didn't even know who to ask for help! The Dursleys? Come on, Muggles don't know anything about magic , even if they were willing to help - one less chance than winning the lottery - they could only send themselves to the hospital to make an appointment with a personal doctor.

His eyes fell on an open book, which was a gift from his good friend Ron, called "Flying with the Artillery Team". On the open pages, boys in orange-red uniforms were throwing Quaffles at each other. Ron is a die-hard fan of this team. Even though the team has been in decline for nearly a hundred years, he has always supported it.

This book reminded Harry of his best friend Ron Weasley. What would he say if he wrote to him? Ron Weasley's voice seemed to appear in his mind: Yours The scar hurts? But You-Know-Who is now...I mean. I don't know, he's coming to harm you? Could it be? I don't know either, let me ask Dad, but he Don't be too sad, maybe the curse scar will always have some side effects, after all, it is the scar left by the killing curse of the mysterious man.

Ron's freckled face appeared before Harry. Ron's father, Mr. Weasley, worked at the Ministry of Magic, but Harry didn't think he would be of much help in this sort of thing, and might have thrown the Weasleys into a tailspin.

Ron's twin brothers would also know about it, and that would be trouble! If it turned out that the scars had nothing to do with Voldemort, Harry thought he would be a source of happiness for both of them.

Another reason Harry didn't want to discuss scars with Ron was that he was going to live with the Weasleys for a while. The Weasleys were Harry's favorite family in the world, and living with them would be the happiest thing for him, and he didn't want to ruin this beautiful day because of a stupid scar. Come to think of it, when I lived at the Weasleys, everyone nervously asked about his scars. What a disappointment!

Then who else could he write to and tell his story? The first name that popped into his mind was Professor Dumbledore. In fact, if it weren't for the book "Flying with the Artillery Team", Dumbledore should have been the first person he thought of for help.

But Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went on vacation. Harry imagined Dumbledore wearing a pointed wizard hat, grey robes, and holding a cane, trudging through the Alps. Of course, it didn't matter whether he knew Dumbledore's location or not, Harry believed that his owl Hedwig would definitely find him.

But how should this letter be written?

[Dear Professor Dumbledore, sorry to bother you, but my scar hurts this morning]

These things just popped up in Harry's mind and he erased them.

Harry scratched his head, his hair a little tousled again. His hair had been so unruly that perhaps only magic shampoo could save Harry's hair. But looking at his father's picture, Harry didn't think magic would solve his hair.

Harry knew that what he really needed was someone who could take the place of his parents, a grown-up wizard who couldn't ask silly questions himself.

There was an excellent choice originally, but Sirius told himself before the holiday that he would not allow himself to write to him. So who else?

A handsome face appeared in his mind.

Tom Yoder!

Why not ask Tom: Yodel?

Although he was the same age as himself, Harry vaguely felt that this man had surpassed him so much in magical attainments that he might have some unique insights.

Harry immediately took a piece of parchment, dipped his quill pen with ink, and leaned over the desk to start writing.

At this point, this amazing Tom: What is Mr. Yodel doing?

He didn't sleep either, but lay down at the desk and drew sketches. The patterns he draws are extremely complex and look dazzling, and people who don't understand alchemy may even feel dizzy at first glance.

This is an alchemy magic weapon that Tom recently planned to refine. He felt that if this thing was built, it could at least have a four-star level, or even a five-star level.

Spring River Plumbing Duck Prophet, as a participant in Dumbledore's Project ~lightnovelpub.net~ he knew that Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord, would make a comeback this year. Tom believed in Dumbledore a lot, but he still wanted to give himself some trump cards.

It is very unwise to fight with Voldemort's level of magic spells, so he can use appropriate tricks - whether or not to use tools is the biggest difference between humans and monkeys. The ability to use magic props is the biggest difference between alchemists and ordinary wizards.

For Voldemort's sake, Tom took out all the two hundred Galleons he had earned from Dulix to buy magic silver and other alchemy materials.

It was only after he started to build large-scale magic items that Tom realized that alchemy was really expensive! His 200 Galleons disappeared like a waste of water, which made him a little regretful that he could not get along with The Ministry of Magic negotiated the deal. That stupid woman is too greedy! Ten Galleons, one anti-curse glove, can only earn some hard money, and there is no profit at all

Tom also visited Mr. Ollivander, and had the cheek to get his magic silver staff from him. His original plan was to melt the staff and create other magic items. However, he has recently had a fresh idea.

Charlie's Artillery Team, see appendix for a brief introduction

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