Chapter 818: Party

Aunt Petunia's words held a deep-seated fear, and Harry couldn't quite grasp the meaning behind them.

But he could figure out that the Wizarding World wasn't very safe.

He looked into the mirror:

For his age, he was really thin and small, but he had grown a few inches this year.

However, his jet-black hair was the same as before—no matter how he messed with it, it remained messy and refused to lie flat;

The eyes behind the lenses were bright green, and between the hair on his forehead, a thin scar was clearly visible, shaped like a lightning bolt.

Among all of Harry's unusual features, this scar was the most extraordinary.

It wasn't a souvenir left by the car accident that caused Harry's parents' deaths, as the Dursleys had claimed for ten years, because Lily and James Potter didn't die in a car accident.

They were murdered, murdered by Voldemort, the most terrifying dark wizard in a hundred years.

Harry escaped death from that attack, leaving only a scar on his forehead.

Voldemort's spell didn't kill Harry, but rebounded onto himself.

Voldemort was neither dead nor alive, and he ran away...

And Harry had run into him again at Hogwarts.

At this moment, Harry inevitably thought of Sean.

Sean, who was always quietly reading; Sean, who walked through the nights at Hogwarts carrying a blood-stained sword; Sean, who led them to fight Voldemort several times.

Harry looked up, the afternoon sun shining directly onto the terrace.

Clouds stretched lazily across the horizon, and not a trace of any star could be seen.

But Harry knew that when night fell, when wizards facing the darkness looked up, they could always find the stars.

It was always there, hanging high in the sky.

While Harry's thoughts were flying, the doorbell rang.

Harry ran downstairs to open the door, the sun hanging over the neat garden in front of the house, illuminating the No. 4 brass plate on the Dursleys' front door, and the sunlight also quietly climbed onto the visitor's face.

"Mr. Potter."

Outside the door was a woman with a serious expression, wearing square glasses.

She wore an emerald green cloak, and her black hair was pulled into a tight bun.

She revealed an imperceptible excitement, but more than that, it was a kindness that Harry rarely saw.

"Professor Marcus Marcus Maige, you, I mean, how did you..."

Harry would never have thought it was Professor Marcus Marcus Maige.

In his mind, it was like time flowing backward as he began to recall the trouble he had caused before, and his expression couldn't help but become nervous.

"I came to accompany Mr. Green... to deliver some invitations."

Professor Marcus Marcus Maige was a wizard who was very particular about etiquette, and Harry thoughtfully took the envelope from Sean's hand, as hinted by her eyes.

"What invitation..."

Harry was confused.

Was there something that required a professor to deliver it in person?

He subconsciously looked at Sean, and the black-haired young wizard was no less confused than he was.

Sean really couldn't remember any big events recently.

He and Harry stared in confusion at the invitation with silver patterns on the side.

【Dear Mr. Potter:

Sincerely invite you to attend Green's birthday party.

The party will be held on July 27th.】

Harry looked up sharply:

"Sean, your birthday?!"

"My birthday?"

Sean was stunned, with a hint of realization.

"Oh, Sean."

Harry looked at him for a long time without speaking.

It wasn't until an owl flew to the window beside them that he asked cautiously,

"You've never celebrated your own birthday either?" ===== CHAPTER 819 =====