For everyone, the holidays might not always be particularly interesting, but at least they should not be too boring.
Especially when Harry had gained control of Aunt Petunia's television.
The family was going out today to visit a business partner.
As juvenile delinquents from the "St. Brutus's Secure Centre," Harry and Dudley were not qualified to participate in such "family-oriented" activities.
So Harry could now lazily recline on the sofa, idly switching between television channels.
He also did not have to endure Dudley forcing him to watch stupid football matches.
This was the only time he felt truly free in this house.
Unfortunately, there would be no Quidditch matches or Quidditch broadcasts.
He casually switched to a sports channel. The commentator was shouting excitedly, apparently announcing another goal in a football match.
Harry's eyes remained fixed on the screen, but his thoughts had already wandered elsewhere.
He could not help recalling the tremendous changes that had taken place during the previous school year.
Dumbledore really left us just like that?
Even now, Harry found it difficult to believe.
There was something strangely unreal about it.
The old man might knock on the door at any moment, wearing a magnificent purple-and-gold robe. He would slowly push the door open with a smile and tell Harry to go to Florin Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour in Diagon Alley for dessert.
What an unrealistic fantasy.
Just as Harry was lost in his daydreams…
Another tearing pain suddenly shot through his brain.
It was like a wooden plank snapping with a sharp crack, steel bars being twisted and pulled under immense strain, or an old tortoiseshell cracking inch by inch after being exposed to extreme heat.
A thousand different sensations of pain flooded through him.
Along with the pain came rage and bloodlust.
His eyes began to bulge, turning increasingly bloodshot.
Lord Voldemort could communicate with him and invade his mind.
Harry already knew that.
He tried his best to use Occlumency, as he had done before, but the impact continued to intensify.
Eventually, his body, which had been writhing like a centipede on the sofa, gradually became still.
As the intense pain subsided, his mind became clearer than ever.
Perhaps the suffering had made his senses more acute.
Then Harry was surprised to see a female newsreader with precise pronunciation appear on the television screen.
She began broadcasting breaking news.
"Breaking news. London's Tower Bridge, which spans the River Thames, collapsed at noon today. The cause of the incident remains unknown."
"The government is investigating the cause. The number of casualties is currently being counted, and the injured have been transported to hospitals."
"Breaking news. A powerful tornado has struck the area near the government district in Lancaster, western Britain. Residents are urged to prepare for possible disasters."
"Breaking news…"
Although Harry wanted to convince himself that the events shown on television were merely accidents, a strange intuition told him that these were not ordinary natural disasters.
It was obvious that the pain he had experienced earlier had been caused by Lord Voldemort's emotions while carrying out his acts of destruction.
Voldemort was recklessly destroying Muggle public facilities and spreading panic.
Harry desperately wanted to stop him.
But he could not.
He did not know where Voldemort was committing these atrocities, nor did he possess the strength to defeat him.
He was unable to change anything, yet he still wanted to try.
That inability left him with a strange sense of confusion.
In the past, he could have sought Dumbledore's help and confided in him about his secrets and doubts.
Now, he could only bear everything alone.
His concerns had shifted from his ordinary wizarding examinations to Lord Voldemort's possible future actions.
These acts of destruction would inevitably have a tremendous impact on Muggle society, and panic would spread like a virus.
Beneath the surface of this turbulent society, even more turbulent undercurrents were gathering.
Compared with the unrest in Muggle society, the wizarding world was not faring much better.
In less than two months, employees from various professions had resigned in large numbers, particularly those working at the Ministry of Magic.
Their keen instincts had allowed them to sense the approaching danger and the rapid changes taking place within the Ministry.
This was not merely the sixth sense they had developed through fighting Dark Wizards. It was also their sharp understanding of the current political situation.
Umbridge had begun conducting a census throughout the Ministry of Magic.
The measure encountered fierce opposition from almost all the employees.
She intended to classify the current workforce into pure-blood wizards, half-blood wizards, and Muggle-born wizards.
This provoked intense dissatisfaction, and many people resigned in anger.
For those who had left, it was undoubtedly a stroke of good fortune.
Many of those who had not managed to resign in time, yet still possessed a so-called "sense of justice," were controlled by the Imperius Curse.
Apart from the Ministry's official announcements, its actual rule was practically indistinguishable from Lord Voldemort's.
Umbridge had made the choice that best served her own interests, almost without hesitation.
Harry's thoughts were in disarray, and he suddenly felt extremely sleepy.
He switched off the television, returned to his miserable little cupboard, and stared anxiously at the cobweb-covered ceiling.
Then he slowly closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
Thud.
Harry did not know how long he had been asleep when he was suddenly startled awake.
The sound had come from Dudley slamming the door shut. Dudley enjoyed banging doors with his powerful arms.
The family prepared dinner for a while before getting ready to eat.
Just as they were about to begin, an unexpected guest arrived.
There was a knock at the door.
"Who would come at this hour?"
Hearing the knocking, Uncle Vernon stood up. His round belly jiggled as he struggled towards the door.
Professor McGonagall stood outside, dressed in a dark-green robe and wearing a pointed hat.
"Ugh! You're not welcome here. I'm not inviting you in for dinner!" Uncle Vernon shouted, his voice filled with both disgust and fear.
He knew a little about this witch.
She was one of those abnormal people, one of Potter's associates—and a teacher at that bizarre school.
"I won't interrupt your dinner, sir. However, Mr. Potter will be coming with me."
She glanced around the dining table.
"You have not even invited him to eat, so I doubt you intend to insist that he stay."
Dudley stared blankly at the pile of food on the plate in front of him.
"Professor, but it's still quite some time before school begins."
"I don't imagine you particularly want to remain here either, do you?"
Professor McGonagall's tone was partly inquisitive and partly an attempt to obtain confirmation.
She then turned her head and glared at the Dursleys with her hawk-like eyes.
"Although you have mistreated Harry for many years, I must admit that you have at least provided him with a home."
"This time, I must take him away a little earlier. Although the protective spell Dumbledore established is secure, the period immediately before the students leave for school is the most vulnerable. Therefore, I need to take him with me in advance."
Uncle Vernon did not understand anything about spells or the other things she had said.
But he understood one word.
"Safety? You're taking that boy with you? Does that mean we're not safe?"
"Don't drag us into this! That You-Know-Who fellow is terrifying, isn't he?"
Uncle Vernon's small eyes, almost completely concealed by his fleshy face, widened as he forced them open. He waved his hands fearfully, as though terrified that they might become involved.
"They must be a hundred times more frightening than the terrorists Muggles encounter."
Professor McGonagall adjusted her pointed hat and made a vivid, though rather inappropriate, comparison.
"We're a respectable family!"
Uncle Vernon slammed his hand against the table and bared his teeth as he shouted.
It was as though saying this loudly enough would make him feel safer.