HP Magic Biography

Harry was bleeding, clutching his right hand tightly with his left.

He cursed under his breath as he slammed the door of his bedroom open with his shoulder.

At this time, there was the sound of breaking porcelain... He kicked down a cup of herbal tea that was left on the door of the bedroom.

Terrible!

Harry looked around, the platform outside number 4 Privet Drive had long been deserted. The trap might have been an unsuccessful prank on Dudley's part. Harry raised his bleeding hand, scraped together the fragments of the teacup, and threw them into the overfilled trash can by the bedroom door.

Harry had four more days before he could use magic without restriction, and it was tiresome and exasperating - but he had to admit that the wound on his finger would shake him.

Now he doesn't even know how to deal with the wound, but now he has to think about it...especially for the plans he is about to implement...

This seemed to be a big loophole in the magic he had learned, and Harry reminded himself that he must ask Van Lin and Hermione what to do in the future.

As he thought about it, he wiped the tea on the floor with a roll of paper towels, then slammed the door behind him and went back to the bedroom.

It took Harry a whole morning to completely empty the school box for the first time... it took just as much trouble as he had filled it six years earlier. In the previous few semesters, he only needed to take out the most important parts inside, and then tidy or update them, and some odds and ends were left at the bottom of the box-old quills, dried beetle eyes, a single Socks that have long outgrown.

A few minutes ago, when Harry put his hand into these things, he felt a tingling pain in his right ring finger. When he took it out, a lot of blood flowed from his fingertip. He proceeds more carefully now. When Harry knelt by the box again, groping at the bottom of the box, he found a glowing badge with Cedric Gorey and Potter Stink flashing on both sides, and a cracked looking glass.

At last he found the thing that had stabbed him just now,

He recognized it immediately, a fragment of a two-inch magic mirror...

It was given to him by his godfather Sirius, but it was bad, and now he was broken.

Harry put it aside and felt carefully what was left of the box again, and there was nothing but powdered glass like glowing gravel stuck to the bottom of the box.

Harry sat up and examined the irregular shard of mirror that had injured him, but saw only his own bright green eyes looking at him. He put the fragment in the unread copy of the Daily Prophet on his bed.

Harry spent another hour emptying the box completely, throwing away the useless stuff, and sorting the leftovers away... maybe they'd be needed again at some point in the future.

Harry ended up piled his school and Quidditch uniforms, cauldron, parchment, quills and most of his textbooks in a corner, wondering what his uncle and aunt would do with them.

Perhaps burn them in the middle of the night as evidence of some terrible crime. His Muggle clothes, Invisibility Cloak, potion chest, some necessary books, a photo album Hagrid had given him, and his wand had all been repackaged into an old canvas bag. In the front pocket were the Marauder's Map and the defensive ring that Fan Lin had given him, which he needed now.

There was still a rather large stack of newspapers on his desk, next to his owl, Hedwig, the only creature that had accompanied Harry every day through the summer on Privet Drive.

Harry got up from the floor, stretched, and went to the desk.

Hedwig didn't move, he began to browse the newspapers hastily, and then threw them into the trash can one by one.

Hedwig was in a deep sleep...or pretended to be, and she was still mad at Harry for limiting the time she had to fly out of the cage.

However, Harry slowed to a crawl as he reached the bottom of the pile of papers, looking for a special issue he had just returned to Privet Drive, which he remembered had a small headline about Huo News from Gwartz's Muggle Studies Professor, Charlie Burbage.

At last he found it. After opening the tenth edition, he sat in a chair and read the article he had read a long time ago. In memory of Albus Dumbledore!

I first met Dumbledore when I was eleven, on the day we first came to Hogwarts. What we both have in common is that we both feel like outsiders.

I contracted dragon pox before coming to school, and although I am no longer contagious, the marks on my face and green skin keep many people from approaching me.

Albus, on the other hand, had come to Hogwarts with a notorious dislike, nearly a year before his father, Percival, had been convicted of blatantly using violence against three young Muggles.

Albus never denied the crimes committed by his father (who died in Azkaban), on the contrary, when I worked up the courage to ask him, he flatly told me that he knew his father was guilty.

Since then, Dumbledore has refused to talk about the sad event, despite many attempts to force him to. There were even those who praised his father's behavior and assumed that Albus was also a Muggle hater, and they could not have been more wrong...

As anyone who knew Albus could attest, he never showed anti-Muggle tendencies. In fact, his resoluteness towards Muggles led him to make himself many enemies in later years.

And this incident, which lasted for several months, caused Albus's reputation to be discredited by his father.

But by the end of his first year, he was no longer known as the son of a Muggle hater, but as one of the brightest students the school had ever seen.

Those of us who were lucky enough to be his friends also benefited a lot, not only from his help and encouragement but also from his usual generosity and generosity. He later admitted to me that at that time, he knew that his greatest ambition in life was to teach.

Not only did he win every award at the school, but he soon began to correspond with many of the most famous wizarding figures of the time, including the famous alchemist Nicolas Flamel, the famous historian Bathilda Barbara. Saudi, and magic theorist Adebe Woflin.

Traces of his later published works can be found in several of his letters, such as Transfiguration Today, Interesting Challenges and Practical Potions. Dumbledore's future seemed destined for glory at the time, but there has long been a question as to why he didn't become Minister for Magic.

Although there have been rumors about this in the following years, he never had the ambition to work in the ministry. During our fourth year at Hogwarts, Albus' younger brother, Aberforth, also entered the school. There was nothing in common between the two, Aberforth didn't like reading at all, preferring to settle disputes with duels rather than intellectual debate like Albus.

However, unlike some people imagined, the two brothers will turn against each other. Such two completely different boys get along quite friendly. To be fair, for Aberforth, living in Albus's light was never a very comfortable experience. As Albus's friend, the constant flashes of light on him were not very pleasant; as his brother, it was even more unpleasant.

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