Chapter 272: The Shocking Event on Privet Drive

The moon hung high, and the lights were dazzling.

In Malfoy Manor, the clinking of glasses and laughter filled the air, creating an atmosphere of relaxation and harmony.

However, beneath this harmony lay a certain stiffness, as the inherent class distinctions among the guests prevented them from interrupting each other recklessly.

In this environment, Ino was happy to remain idle, holding a wine glass and sitting in a corner far from the center, watching the lively banquet like a spectator.

This kind of relaxed and dreamy scene was the magical world he truly longed for.

Just like in his first year—simple and happy.

"I never thought I'd one day attend a Slytherin banquet!" Neville exclaimed, raising his glass and looking around in awe.

Hearing this, Ino turned his head. The fourth-year Neville was no longer the crying little chubby boy; now over 1.6 meters tall, he might not look imposing, but he had a hint of the Gryffindor warrior in him.

"The point is not Slytherin; the point is that we are friends," Ino smiled, raising his glass. The butterbeer shimmered like Felix Felicis under the magical lights.

"Neville, don't worry! Magic is wondrous, and some things will get better."

Ino had heard about Neville's parents a long time ago and had thought about solving this issue.

It was like the first Potions class of the school year when Snape asked his soul-searching question.

Even after so long, he could still clearly remember his answer: Potions exist to prevent tragedies.

Potions, magic, they both served the same purpose.

Therefore, he gave the same response now, using magic to help as many people as possible.

On the other side, Neville also sensed the sincerity.

"Thank you, Ino. But I don't hope for too much. As long as they are safe and sound, and I can see them every holiday, I am very content."

Faced with such familial bonds, Ino did not respond. He simply patted Neville's shoulder lightly in comfort.

Without any concrete leads, he wouldn't say too many comforting words to avoid giving Neville false hope that he couldn't fulfill.

The conversation ended there.

Neville did not bring up the topic again; it was a tacit understanding between them.

"Aren't those two just natural at socializing?" Neville's gaze turned to the two active figures at the banquet.

George and Fred were weaving through the crowd with a canvas bag slung over their shoulders, seemingly selling various flowers, trinkets, and the delicate hairpins that the girls loved.

"Hahaha, they always bring joy! That's a good thing!"

Ino also saw the twins. Fred was smiling brightly while selling hairpins to Millicent.

Millicent Bulstrode, the female version of Goyle in Slytherin, was looking shyly at Fred as if the hairpin was a token of love rather than just an accessory.

Since the banquet started, everyone had found something they were interested in, even Percy, who was chatting with his former adversary, Marcus.

This scene was truly moving.

It seemed that the hostility between the houses was gradually fading with age, especially after graduation.

Just like now, a former Gryffindor prefect and a former Slytherin Quidditch captain were sitting together, drinking and chatting.

If this were back in the castle, they would have definitely argued upon meeting, but who could have thought that after graduation, they would sit and chat over drinks.

...

Meanwhile, in faraway London.

Unlike the lively atmosphere of Malfoy Manor, the ambiance at 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging was heavy.

Petunia was covering her mouth in terror, her eyes filled with clear panic.

Her husband, Vernon, lay motionless on the floor.

On the other side, despite his large build, Dudley was curled up in a corner like a hamster, as if this would give him enough sense of security.

In the center of the room, Harry held his wand, his crimson eyes scanning the surroundings, resembling a hungry python with a predatory expression.

Soon, Harry's gaze turned to Petunia.

But the look of terror and silent tears on her face seemed to trigger something. In an instant, the crimson in Harry's eyes began to fade, his expression becoming clearer.

"This..."

Seeing his fallen uncle, his crying aunt, and the terrified Dudley, Harry was bewildered by the wand in his hand. He didn't know what had happened or why things had turned out this way.

Before dinner, Uncle Vernon had been routinely criticizing magic, which had always been the norm and nothing unusual.

But this time, Harry felt an inexplicable wave of disgust. It was intolerable for a Muggle who knew nothing about magic to brazenly slander Hogwarts and all wizards.

This made him feel insulted and extremely angry.

His memory ended there.

But given the current scene, the answer was obvious: he had caused all this.

Realizing this, Harry could no longer hold the wand, letting it fall to the floor with a crisp sound.

As the wand dropped, Petunia, who had been silently crying, seemed to come to life. She rushed to pick up the wand and clutched it tightly, refusing to let go.

"Save Vernon, please! There's something wrong with you! You need to write to them, to Dumbledore, to Severus, or someone else, to get help."

Though she was a Muggle, Petunia knew wizards better than anyone. Especially during school holidays, Lily used to tell her many things about magic.

"I'll write right away!" Harry nodded solemnly. "Uncle Vernon is just unconscious."

With that, Harry turned and headed upstairs to the storage room, where Hedwig was kept.

Even without Petunia's reminder, he knew something was seriously wrong with him.

Like the stories Ron had told in the dormitory, many people were unwittingly cursed by dark wizards, causing them to become completely different.

Walking up the stairs, Harry's mind flashed with strange images, scenes from his dreams.

Since the start of last year, he often had peculiar dreams where he seemed to turn into a slithering snake, lonely in a dense forest.

Although strange, like the pain from the scar on his forehead, he hadn't planned to tell anyone.

But today seemed different.

Especially seeing Uncle Vernon on the floor, Harry was genuinely thankful he only knew a few basic spells; otherwise...

Thinking of another terrible outcome, Harry's steps quickened.

Pushing open the storage room door, the caged Hedwig sensed her owner's emotions and made a rare cooing sound.

...

Ten minutes later.

A snow-white owl appeared silently over London.

Unlike other leisurely nocturnal owls, this agile figure seemed urgent, flapping its wings rapidly and flying at high speed.