Harry Potter Morning Light

On a clear summer night, the sky is full of stars, but even in the country, there are still a few lights on.

Nocturnal insects, which do the same job of pollinating plants as daytime bees, fly toward human-created light sources and dance wildly around streetlights.

These lights are not as hot as fire, so they can't keep the bugs away, and maybe the bugs are weird, hey, why is this star so close to them?

Bugs also rely on the stars in the sky to locate them, and the added artificial light source makes them deviate from their original course. They flew around the lamp in a dazed way, tirelessly, until they died of exhaustion. And those flowers that bloom at night and wait for nocturnal insects to pollinate have lost their messengers, and they cannot breed new seeds, so the number of species has decreased.

This is the harm caused by "light pollution". Pomona used the imitation lamp extinguisher made by the Ministry of Magic to suck away the light from the street lamps closest to the villa, and gave those poor bugs a peaceful life.

There was no need for those lights at all, and Muggles wouldn't come for a walk in such a remote place anyway. What's more, she needs lights to light the plants in the greenhouse, and the villa's darkness is also good for defense.

She plans to build some facilities outside the villa, so that it will not be so easy to invade.

"What are you doing, godmother?" Draco asked from the window.

"I'm reading." Pomona put away the cigarette lighter, holding a copy of "Guide to Interpreting Dreams" in her other hand.

"It's so dark outside, why don't you come in and take a look?" Draco asked.

"Full moon!" She pointed to the moon in the sky. "What a beautiful moonlight."

Draco looked up at the sky too.

"I heard Astonia said you had a weird dream." Draco said, "Did you act weird because of that dream, or have you always been a weirdo?"

"This is how you talk to your godmother?" Pomona said incredulously.

Draco flipped out of the window deftly, he'd always been a natural athlete.

"Astonia gave me this, what does she mean?" Draco handed Pomona a book.

"The Tales of Beedle the Poet?" She looked at the title of the book on the cover and read.

"That Muggle woman keeps calling me Doctor, I'm not the kind of weirdo who cuts people open with a knife," Draco said.

"Ah~ha." Pomona nodded ignorantly.

"The story of wizards and the Hopping Pot in this book is different from the one my mother read to me," Draco went on. "Isn't that ugly cauldron supposed to protect wizards from Muggles with torches and rakes?"

In the early 15th century, the persecution of wizards had intensified in Europe. The attitude of many pure-blood wizards towards Muggles was to let them fend for themselves. Helping them meant adding a piece of firewood to the stake that burned themselves.

The fairy tale that Draco read must have been adapted, and Astonia showed him another version.

"It's very close to the University of Padua, why don't you go to the Muggle Medical School?" Pomona suggested.

"Going to a Muggle school? No!" Draco said disgustedly.

"You can get inspiration from different angles. I had a great time at Muggle school today."

"I know what you're trying to do, you want to convert me into a pro-Muggle faction, don't you? Even help them like it's written in the book." Draco said ferociously.

"Or for other reasons." Pomona raised her voice and said, "This book is for children. Which version of the story do you want to show your own children? Did you read it when you were young, or do you read it now?"

Draco froze.

"Sober?" Pomona asked. "You were acting like you were under a spell, Draco."

"Astonia didn't cast a spell on me."

"I know, you're just so happy you can't find North."

Draco grimaced.

"We don't want to disturb your life, but you should know that today is a full moon and there is a war going on in England. Your father has many enemies. You can hurt him by hurting you. You need to stay alert."

"The godfather told me this morning." Draco said calmly.

"You two, don't patronize and play, we will leave after a while, and it will be your business to protect Astonia's safety. Do you still remember how I was admitted to the hospital?"

"Yes, godmother."

"Do you have any other questions?"

"What are you doing? Can I help?" Draco asked.

"I don't think you can, Draco," said Pomona resignedly.

"Why not? I'm a healer!"

"It's a trainee therapist."

"Is it dangerous where you are going?"

Pomona could not answer him.

"The son of the Muggle woman, he is a silent one, you want to take him where you want to go?"

"You're the only Malfoy child, Draco..."

"I'm not a child anymore!" Draco gritted his teeth angrily, "You don't need to protect me like you used to."

"That's right, you are not a child anymore, Astonia is your responsibility, you have to protect her." Pomona said seriously, "Just like your father protects you and your mother."

"And Harry Potter's father, James Potter." Severus stood by the window where Draco was just now, he had already taken off the black coat, only wearing a white shirt, still rigid You have to button the first button of your shirt.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, looking at his godfather.

"You guys are hiding now, I think you know the story of Harry Potter's parents, you want the same thing to happen to Astonia?"

Draco didn't answer Severus' question.

"Don't let us down, Draco, you must at least do better than the Potters."

"Yes, Godfather." Draco nodded solemnly, "I see."

"I have something to talk to your godmother, you can leave now."

Draco turned and walked towards the main entrance of the villa.

"I heard you had a nightmare?" Severus asked after Draco had walked away.

"I dreamed of eating spinach dumplings made by Astonia, Merlin's beard, how much cheese and cheese she put in." Pomona said with a smirk.

"You were crying." Severus looked at her.

"It won't happen again." She shook her head, pretending to be nonchalant. "It was just a dream, I'm not a child anymore."

"I know," Severus said. "You're not like Harry Potter. He tells everyone he's had a weird dream. I don't think anyone but the Dark Lord knows what's going on in his troll's mind." interested."

"Oh, so you're interested in what's going on in my head?"

"I said I like the way you use your brain." Severus smirked gracefully.

"That's what Mr. Darcy told Elizabeth." Pomona was suffocated with anger.

"Then you think what you're doing now is well thought out?"

She is confused.

"Rather than you thinking about it alone, I think we can solve it together. I just happened to read Freud's book."

"So you plan to use me as a test subject?" Pomona asked in disbelief.

"I won't use you as a test subject, not only me, but also Albus, who told me that you are my test subject?"

Severus imitated Pomona's tone vividly.

"Oh." She was embarrassed and didn't know how to continue.

"I know women like to think wildly, but you have a particularly strong imagination, almost to the point of delusion, so I won't let you alone."

"Severus, do you think I'm delusional." She said weakly, "I think you'll like me because I want love so much."

"I think so too." Severus turned his back on her, "I sometimes don't believe that women like you exist in this world."

"So, all this is a dream? It's all in my head?" She asked tremblingly.

"It's not 'I'," Severus said. "It's 'we'. We daydream together, remember?"

Pomona blushed.

"Only dreams belong to us completely, but isn't our 'reality' changed just because of some people's dreams?"

Pomona was about to say something when Severus disappeared from the window.

"Come in!" After a while, perhaps annoyed by Pomona's slowness, the old bat with his coat off roared from the room.

"Got it," she grumbled. "Grumpy old guy."

After she finished speaking, she walked towards the window that Draco had turned out just now.

==============================

Arthur Weasley flipped a switch, and the lights in the studio came on.

"Come in, Harry," he said to Harry Potter, who was following him.

Harry, dressed in wizard robes, walked into the studio outside the Burrow, full of Muggle supplies, looking around with lake green eyes.

On a cabinet by the door was a radio through which Porter's Watch station had been received.

"What did you ask us to do? Dad." Ron limped on crutches and walked in after Harry. "It's a full moon today, and we still have a lot to do."

"You can't ride a broomstick with your legs, can you?" Arthur looked at his son blankly. "And you don't want to be at home."

"Of course." Ron said matter-of-factly. "My friends need me!"

"Isn't it because Hermione is showing off?"

"Of course not!" Ron yelled.

"What do you want us to do, Arthur," Harry asked. "I think Ron is right, we have a lot to do today."

Arthur changed his face and smiled at Harry.

"I have a present for you."

Arthur said, walking up to a huge thing covered with a white cloth, and pulling hard.

It was a moped with a black bucket, exactly like the one Hagrid had been riding before.

"This..." Harry said in disbelief.

"That's right, it's what you think." Arthur smiled smugly, "This is Sirius Black's flying motorcycle."

"But I remember it being destroyed," Harry said bewilderedly, "the day we moved from my aunt's."

"Of course I remember that it was seriously injured during the chase, but it was not destroyed. I hid it in the backyard and spent a lot of time repairing it." Arthur stroked the motorcycle's headlight Say "I was going to give this to you as a birthday present, Harry, but I think you two need a handy tool right now rather than a surprise. Ron can sit in the bucket until he recovers, and you can ride Take the flying motorcycle and drive him to where you want to go."

"You don't object to me going to war, Dad?" Ron asked.

Arthur looked at Ron, and said after a while, "If I could have given it to Harry earlier, you might not have been injured in the swamp. This is my default."

"It's not your fault, Arthur, don't blame yourself," said Harry. "Neither of us thought of that."

"Give it a try, anyway." Arthur stepped back. "Have you ever ridden a motorcycle, Harry?"

"I think I can do it," Harry said with a smile.

"This guy's not a broomstick, look at this." Arthur pressed a purple button next to the odometer, and a blast of searing blue dragon fire erupted from the exhaust pipe.

"It can carry someone as big as Hagrid, imagine you're riding a dragon," Arthur said loudly over the noise from the exhaust pipes.

"Cool," said Ron, his eyes bright. "It's no wonder Sirius likes it so much."

Harry also looked at the new-looking flying bike, and Arthur pressed the purple button again before the dragon fire ignited the rest of the garage, and the dragon fire went out immediately.

"I didn't just fix it, you press the green button and you get a brick wall, you press the second button and you get a net, and if you guys want to catch a living werewolf, I think that's what you're going to use. "

"Thank you, Arthur." Harry walked to the side of the motorcycle and stroked the handlebar. "This is the best gift I've ever received."

"Better than the Firebolt Sirius gave you?" Arthur quipped.

Harry didn't smile.

"When I was a kid, I had a dream one day. I dreamed that I was on a flying motorcycle, but when I woke up, I found myself in the storage room. 11 When I was 12 years old, my uncle drove me and Dudley to the zoo. He kept complaining on the way that a motorcycle tried to overtake him. I told him that I dreamed of a flying motorcycle and he almost hit him. Get into the car ahead."

"That's dangerous." Arthur exclaimed.

"He told me that motorcycles can't fly. I told him, of course I know that motorcycles can't fly. It was just a dream. Sometimes, I would suspect that everything I experienced was a dream. When I woke up, I still In that storage room, you, the flying motorcycle, and Voldemort were all my own imagination or dreams, and there is no magic in this world at all."

"You sound like a Muggle." Ron grumbled, "Stop talking so much nonsense, and try riding!"

"I can't wear this," said Harry, looking at his cloak and robes, as if worried that the flowing robes might trip him up.

"You don't have to worry about that." Arthur took out a box from a side cabinet. "This is Ginny's birthday present for you."

Harry took the box and opened it to find a jacket inside.

There's nothing like a jacket for motorcycles, but this one is pretty straight-forward, without studs and weird embellishments, not punk at all.

"Put it on." Arthur sighed. "Good luck and come back safely, Harry."

"I will, Arthur," said Harry seriously.

"And me?" Ron grumbled. "Where's my jacket?"

"What jacket are you wearing?" Arthur shouted.

"It's not fair!"

While the father and son were bickering, Harry took off his robe and put on his jacket before turning over and riding his motorcycle.

"Boom." As he twisted the accelerator, the motorcycle began to roar, but the exhaust pipe did not spew out dragon fire like before.

"Let's go, Ron!" Harry said to his friend.

After sitting in the hanging bucket, Ron pointed his wand at the exit of the garage, and the closed door slowly opened.

"Come on, Harry! Full speed ahead!" Ron yelled excitedly.

"Don't forget the helmet!" Arthur yelled at the two young men, but they obviously didn't listen to him. After the flying motorcycle turned on its bright headlights, it flew towards the night sky with a full moon hanging like a bolt of lightning. fly away.

Pay attention to traffic rules and remember to wear a helmet when riding!