Harry's conversation with Hagrid didn't last long, because he found the situation awkward.
He didn't seem to be in a good position to accept other people's care, especially when everyone thought his situation was strange.
He wanted to be alone.
Jon was not far from Hagrid's cottage. He found the situation interesting, because a long, long time ago, he seemed to have been in the same situation.
These things appeared in different people like a reincarnation cycle. He, Harry, and others. It was not so much an emotion as it was a growing pains.
So he cast a spell on Harry.
Casting spells without a wand didn't look that cool. Needless to say, casting spells like this was very convenient.
He only needed to flick his finger, and the spell he wanted would appear on the person he wanted to cast it on.
This was a type of memory magic. Instead of retrieving a person's memory, it was to look into the person's current emotions. After retrieving these emotions, he would give this thing to Joanne. During this period of time, Joanne's most important thing was to write her book.
Harry Potter's biography. He planned to release it after everything was over, and before that, there were still some trivial things to take care of.
As for why Joanne didn't turn into a Wizard, it was Joanne's decision. At this time, she still wanted to spend more energy on writing.
Jon respected her opinion. He had enough patience for the original author, and he was willing to cooperate with her.
Besides, Joanne and he had a good relationship.
...
Hagrid's cottage.
Harry walked to the door as fast as he could and pulled it open. Before Hagrid could say goodbye, he was out in the sun and walking along the grass.
As he passed, people shouted for him again.
He closed his eyes for a long time, wishing they would all disappear, so that when he opened his eyes again, he would find himself alone in the field.
A few days ago, before his exam, he saw the image that Voldemort had planted in his mind. He was willing to give almost everything to let the whole magic world know that he was telling the truth, to let them believe that Voldemort was back, and that he was neither a liar nor a madman.
But now...
He walked a little by the lake, and then sat down on the shore, hiding behind the bushes to avoid the eyes of passers-by.
He gazed at the sparkling surface of the lake and fell into deep thought.
He wanted to be alone, probably because after talking to Dumbledore, he felt isolated, cut off from the rest of the world.
An invisible barrier separated him from the rest of the world.
He was — he had always been — a man with a mark.
And he never really understood what that meant.
Sitting on the shore, the intense pain weighed heavily on him.
The pain of losing Sirius was so strong, so clear, that he didn't have extra nerves to feel fear.
Now that the sun was shining and the crowd of laughing people gathered around him, he felt that he was far away from them, as if he belonged to two completely different worlds.
Even so, it was hard for him to believe that, as he sat there, his life would end as a murderer.
After a long time, he still sat there, staring blankly at the water, trying not to think of his Godfather and remember that on the other side of the river, where he was facing Sirius, Sirius had fought valiantly against a hundred Dementors and was exhausted.
The sun had gone down, and he felt a little cold.
He got up and went back to the castle, wiping the tears from his face with his sleeve as he walked.
...
Ron and Hermione were fully recovered and discharged from the hospital three days before the end of the term.
Hermione always wanted to mention Sirius, and whenever she said his name, Ron would make a "shh" sound to stop her.
Harry still didn't know whether he wanted to talk about his Godfather or not; his thoughts always changed according to his mood.
But one thing he did know was that, sad as he felt now, when he returned to Privet Drive in a few days' time, he would miss Hogwarts very much.
Although he now knew why he had to go back there every summer, he still didn't like the place any more than he already did.
In fact, he had never been more afraid of going back.
Professor Umbridge left Hogwarts the day before the end of the term.
She seemed to have snuck out of the hospital at dinnertime, obviously trying to sneak away unnoticed.
Unfortunately, she ran into Pippi on the way, and Pippi, on Fred's advice, seized this last chance.
Gaily, he intercepted Umbridge, and, alternately, struck her with a crutch and a stocking full of chalk.
Many students ran to the porch to see her flee, and the deans of the academy tried to stop them, half-jokingly.
In fact, Professor McGonagall just made a few feeble protests and sat back down behind her desk, regretting that she couldn't see Umbridge off herself because Pippi had borrowed her crutch.
The last night of the term came, and many people had packed their bags and were preparing to go down to the final farewell party, but Harry hadn't packed yet.
"You can pack tomorrow!"
Ron said, waiting at the dormitory door. "Come on, I'm hungry."
"I won't be long. You go on ahead."
Ron closed the door and left, but Harry didn't pack his things right away.
What he hated most was attending farewell banquets.
He was worried that Dumbledore would mention him in his speech. Of course he would mention Voldemort's return; after all, he had told them about it last year.
Harry took some crumpled robes from the bottom of the trunk to make room for his neatly folded clothes.
He found a small, badly wrapped bundle in a corner of the trunk.
He couldn't think why it was there.
He bent down, pulled it out from under his sweatshirt, and looked at it carefully.
Soon he realized what it was. Sirius had given it to him at the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place.
"I want you to use it when you need me, okay?"
Harry plopped down on his bed and opened the small bag.
It was a small square mirror, a little old and, of course, dirty.
Harry held it up to his eyes and saw himself looking back at him. He turned the mirror over. There was a scribbled handwriting on the back, from Sirius.
This is a two-way mirror. There are two of them. I have another one in my hand.
If you want to find me, just call out to me, and you will appear in my mirror, and I can appear in your mirror to talk to you.
We used to use this to communicate when Jaime and I weren't together.
Harry's heart began to pound fast.
He remembered seeing his dead parents in the Mirror of Eris four years ago. He could talk to Sirius again. He knew at once. He looked around to see if anyone else was there. The dormitory was empty. His eyes fell on the mirror again. He held it up to his eyes with trembling hands and called out loud and clear, "Sirius."
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