94 Diagon Alley

Go to Uncle Vernon, stop and say cheerfully, "You remember me, Arthur Weasley."

Weasley nearly destroyed the entire Dursley living room by himself two years ago, and Harry would have been shocked if Uncle Vernon couldn't remember him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon's face darkened, and he stared at Mr. Weasley fiercely, without saying a word, partly because the Dursleys were smaller than them, just a pair of two. Aunt Petunia, looking frightened and embarrassed, continued to look around, as if she was afraid that acquaintances would see her with someone like that. At the same time, Dudley seemed to be trying to shrink his body to look smaller, but his efforts were in vain.

"We thought it necessary to briefly talk to you about Harry," Weasley said, still smiling. "Yes," growled Moody, "about how he was treated with you."

Uncle Vernon was so angry that his beard was going up. Maybe the bowler hat gave him the illusion that he was dealing with someone just like him, and he said to Moody, "I don't know what our family has to do with you—"

"I think you could write books about what you don't know, Dursley," growled Moody.

"Stop talking too much, that's not our point." Tonks interjected, her pink hair seemed to annoy Aunt Petunia more than the rest, because she closed Not looking at her at all, "The point is, if we find out you're abusing Harry—"

"—please don't make such a mistake, we'll get the exact news," Lupin added gleefully.

"That's right," said Mr. Weasley, "even if you don't let Harry go to hell--"

"Phone." Hermione corrected him in a low voice.

“—Yes, if we get word that Porter has been abused, whatever the abuse, we will respond,” Moody said.

Uncle Vernon was furious, his anger seemed to outweigh his fear of the oddball. "Are you threatening me, sir?" he exclaimed, making passers-by turn their heads.

"Yes, I'm threatening you," said Mad-Eye, who seemed particularly pleased that Uncle Vernon realized it so soon.

"Do I look like the kind of person who is threatened?" Uncle Vernon exclaimed.

"Oh..." said Moody, moving his bowler hat back to reveal his wicked, ever-twisting magical eye. Uncle Vernon jumped back in horror and slammed into a luggage cart. "Yes, I have to say that's what you are, Dursley."

He stopped answering him and turned to face Harry.

"Then Potter...call us if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone..."

Aunt Petunia whimpered pitifully for obvious reasons, wondering what the neighbors would say if they saw these people walking down the garden path..." Goodbye then Now, Potter," said Moody, his tangled hand resting on Harry's shoulder for a moment.

"Take care, Harry," Lupin said softly, "stay in touch. Don't worry Sirius, me and… Kreacher… will take care of him."

"Harry, we'll pick you up from here as soon as possible." Mrs. Weasley put her arms around Harry again and whispered in his ear.

"We'll meet again soon, buddy, just two weeks." Ron said eagerly, holding Harry's hand.

"It will be soon, Harry," Hermione said sincerely, "We promise."

Harry nodded. Seeing them standing there, standing beside him, he somehow couldn't think of words to tell them what it meant to him. He just smiled and waved goodbye to them, then turned and walked out of the station to the sun-drenched street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley hurriedly following him.

"Let's go." Ron reluctantly looked at Harry's disappearing figure and said to his parents and brothers.

"What are you talking about, Ron?" Fred grinned. "We just passed by to see you, business is too busy."

"To be precise," George took Gwen's arm with his unpacked hand, "We're here to help Garrick take Gwen back to Diagon Alley."

Summer of 1996

It was mid-July and London was already filled with a cold fog.

"It's not right, it's not normal..." Gwen said, twirling a shaved quill in the tip of his finger.

Sr. Garrick has been so restless recently that he doesn't even allow Gwen to open the luggage he brought back from school. "Because you might be a guest at someone else's house during the holidays."

"I told you I wouldn't," Gwen said firmly. "I'm just too busy. Polishing the wands in the shop every day and going to Weasley's to help— Heck, why are they painting the exterior purple and orange - I'm also 'secretly' practicing Apparition!"

"Gwen, it's not a shame to pass three exams, I've known since the day you were sorted into Gryffindor—" Mr. Ollivander said with his hands behind his back, shaking his head .

"I'm so sorry, Grandpa. I wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw." Gwen rolled his eyes, "But what I'm saying is, I don't need to go anywhere else this summer. ' she said cautiously.

Old Garrick looked worried at the mist outside the window, and after a while he said, "I'm not sure, Gwen. I want to stay here with you too."

Gwen frowned, feeling that things were going in a bad direction. But adults are always like this. They want to keep the children in their nests and think the best way is to keep them from knowing the truth. She shook her head, and after arranging lunch for Garrick, she walked towards the other end of Diagon Alley with a large package.

The facades of the surrounding shops are dull, buried by notices, and the windows of Fred and George attract people's attention like a firework display. Ordinary pedestrians couldn't help but turn their heads to look at the window, and a few others looked particularly shocked, and even stopped, looking obsessed. The window on the left is colorful and displays a variety of merchandise that spins, twitches, flickers, jumps and screams.

Two lanky, red-haired shop managers were standing at the door bickering.

"I should be the template," Fred said. "Obviously, I'm the more handsome of us."

"Get out of the way, buddy, your high cheekbones can sting my eyes." George attacked viciously, "My nose is smoother, and using my face as a sign would Attract more witches."

Gwen sneered, "Gentlemen, with all due respect, you two look the same." She shoved the package in her hand into George's arms, "Honey, I Did you hear it wrong? Who are you trying to attract?"

Fred laughs while hugging his belly, forcing Gwen to admit that he's better looking than his brothers.

Gwen looked complexly at the Weasley's Witchcraft shop sign - a giant puppet head with dazzling red hair, rhythmically and slowly giving each passing People take off their hats.

"Trust me, all the inhabitants of the wizarding world can see at a glance that this is your shop. And it's conspicuous enough..."

"It's not enough." Fred pinched his chin and looked at the window where the dazzling merchandise was piled up, "lack of a little humor."

"How about a poster of a new product?" George weighed the package in his arms, struggling to free one hand to use his wand. A paper roll jumped out of the store, stretched, and crawled to the window.

It was a huge poster, purple like those of the Ministry of Magic, but printed in dazzling yellow letters:

【Why are you worried about the mysterious man?

You should care

Constipation-

The feeling of constipation is tormenting the Chinese! 】

Gwen was happy for a long time, and then said with a bitter face that he suddenly lost his appetite. But she still pushed two people into the store, reluctantly found an open space, and the three of them sat on the ground and finished the lunch brought by Gwen.

A young witch with short blond hair poked her head in from behind the curtain, wearing a magenta shop robe like the twins.

"There's a customer outside who wants a joke crucible, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley," she said.

"Okay, Verity, I'll be right here." Fred said immediately, patting the crumbs on his body and getting up. And winked at George like he and Gwen were going to do something bad here.

George's sparkling eyes looked at Gwen.

The witch of the Ollivander family had a dry mouth, and carefully took a sip of black tea from the teacup that could only bite off her nose. "So, how's Harry doing? Still at his Muggle uncle's house?"

George laughed angrily, "It's too disappointing, it's just the two of us now, you actually ask me about the other boys?"

Gwen sighed and said with his fingers crossed, "It's been ten days since the holiday, and I come to play with you every day."

George moved his **** towards Gwen secretly, "You underestimate yourself. You can say that you come to help us every day." He stole a bite of Gwen's bread, With bulging cheeks, "At least three shelves have been organized."

Gwen hid the fangs of the teacup again, "You're welcome, this is a great experience of seventeen years in the wand shop life. By Garrick's standards, you don't even need a warehouse, just stuff it all. On the shelf—"

"We don't want customers in store where their lives are at risk." Frey