prynovel Chapter 330 Lies
Chapter 330 Lies
Chapter 330 Lies (5.2K) (1/2)
Sirius's anger subsided considerably, replaced by an extremely complex expression.
His hatred for the Dursleys was deeply ingrained, but Lynch's words were like a key that unlocked a perspective he had never considered before.
He could imagine the tense days that followed James and his wife's murder, and the Death Eaters' insane actions—
If Petunia really did conceal the risks and adopt Harry under those circumstances—he let out a heavy sigh, irritably scratching his already messy black hair, and looking at Harry with even deeper heartache and an indescribable sense of unease.
He hated what the Dursleys had done to Harry, but at this moment he could no longer righteously deny Lynch's claims.
The phrase "returns".
A brief silence fell over the living room, broken only by a faint, extremely indistinct sound from outside the soundproof barrier, as if it came from another world.
The previous tense anger and cold sense of transaction were replaced by a heavier and more complex emotion.
Lin Qi observed the change in their expressions and knew that they had taken his words to heart.
"Life under someone else's roof is never easy. I know they haven't treated you well during your upbringing, so I suggest giving them this money. After the money is paid off, you can choose to sever all ties with them or make other personal choices. It's up to you to decide."
"A sum of money not only settles past grievances but also ensures your financial stability for the next few years. Why not take it?"
Lynch's words plunged Harry into an even deeper silence.
The descriptions of the fears and risks Aunt Penny might have faced, like a heavy fog, shrouded his years of resentment towards the Dursleys, leaving him feeling more confused than ever before.
After a long pause, he raised his head, looked at Lin Qi, and said earnestly and stubbornly, "Uncle Lin Qi, that money—I will definitely find a way to pay you back in the future."
Lin Qi shook his head slightly, a faint, almost helpless expression seemingly passing across his face.
"You don't need to give it back to me, Harry," he said calmly. Then, under the puzzled gazes of Sirius and Harry, he raised his hand and pointed clearly at Sirius, who was sitting next to Harry with a furrowed brow.
"This money should be paid by your godfather, Sirius Black."
"Me?" Sirius Black paused for a moment, then reacted instantly, patting his chest and shouting without hesitation, "Of course! Of course it's my turn! No problem!" His grey eyes, when they looked at Harry, were filled with a sense of entitlement and an eagerness to make amends. "Harry is my godson, the responsibility James and Lily left me! Galleons? I have plenty! The gold in that crappy Gringotts vault is practically rusting, I'm just wondering where to spend it!"
He spoke quickly and urgently, as if afraid that someone would take this "right" from him. His previous awkwardness about using money to appease the Dursleys vanished instantly under the premise of "spending money for Harry".
Harry panicked: "No, Godfather, how can that be! This is my business—this is my business, I can't let you—"
"What do you mean, 'yours' and 'mine'!" Sirius interrupted him, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders, looking into his eyes, his voice trembling with emotion but unusually firm. "Listen, Harry, I'm your godfather! Your father is my best brother, and your mother—is my most important family member. Taking care of you and giving you the best I can after I'm able is only natural to me! And," he took a deep breath, his tone becoming even more solemn, "the Black family may have a lot of troubles, but they have a lot of gold. When I die, won't all of that be yours? Why are you still trying to tell me what's yours and mine? Huh?"
Harry opened his mouth, but seeing the undeniable light in his godfather's eyes—a light mixed with love, responsibility, and a hint of pain—all his words of rebuttal stuck in his throat.
He could feel the heavy weight behind those words; it was a kinship that had grown even more intense and clumsy after twelve years of darkness in Azkaban.
In the end, he only felt a lump in his throat, lowered his head, and softly hummed in agreement, without persisting.
Sirius breathed a sigh of relief, as if he had accomplished a great task, and ruffled Harry's hair.
Lin Qi observed this little incident but said nothing.
Once the two had calmed down a bit, he didn't give the topic a chance to veer off course, bringing the focus back to the original point, his voice clear and steady: "So, the discussion about compensation ends here. Now, let's return to the original purpose of our visit today, Harry."
His gaze fell upon the boy as if it were a tangible object.
"Tell us about your dream. Every detail. From the moment you felt the pain in your scar to the moment you woke up. Don't leave anything out, not even the vaguest feeling, the most trivial fragment."
Harry took a deep breath, trying to pull his attention away from the complex impact of the money negotiation and Uncle Lynch's words.
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to grasp the fragments of nightmares that were so clear when he woke up, but now seemed somewhat elusive.
Then he began to describe, starting with the searing pain of the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, like a red-hot iron, then the thick darkness that flashed before his eyes, the eerie, flickering green fire in the furnace, the emaciated figure convulsing on his knees, the Parsleyan voice filled with venomous hissing rather than standard incantations, the deadly green light, and finally, that high-pitched, insane, blood-chilling laughter—
His narration was relatively smooth at first, but as the details unfolded, the images and sounds seemed to come alive again.
He felt his heart begin to race again, his palms grew cold, and his voice even trembled slightly as he described Voldemort's laughter.
When he finally finished speaking the last word and opened his eyes again, he felt a faint stinging pain on his forehead and a layer of cold sweat on his back.
Harry looked at Lynch and Sirius with a pale face, his lips pressed tightly together, awaiting their judgment, but a trace of lingering fear remained deep in his eyes.
The living room was completely silent, with only the soundproof barrier completely isolating it from the outside world.
Sirius's expression turned grim as Harry began to describe it. When he heard the "Parsleyan hiss" and the terrifying laughter, a violent storm raged in his grey eyes—a mixture of hatred, worry, and extreme vigilance.
Seeing Harry's obvious unease and paleness after he finished speaking, he immediately reached out and put his arm around Harry's shoulder, pulling him closer to himself.
His hands were warm and strong, conveying silent support.
"It's alright, Harry, it's alright." Sirius's voice was deep and firm, trying to dispel Harry's nightmare. "You're here, with us, safe. It was just a dream—a terrible one,, though." He said this, but his furrowed brow and the gloom in his eyes showed he didn't believe it was just a simple nightmare. "We're here, no one can hurt you."
Harry felt the strength and warmth from his godfather's arm, and his tense body relaxed slightly, but the heaviness in his heart did not lessen. He leaned against Sirius's side, but his gaze was fixed on Lynch, who remained silent.
Lynch remained extremely focused throughout Harry's narration.
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp, as if trying to dissect and analyze every word Harry uttered. When Harry mentioned "green fire," "Parsleyan Killing Curse," and "that maniacal laughter," a deep, almost icy understanding flashed across Lynch's eyes.
At that moment, he leaned back on the sofa, his right fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on his knee, his eyes unfocused, as if piercing through the living room walls, gazing at some distant and dangerous truth.
His face showed no panic, only a deep, focused contemplation, his brow furrowed with seriousness. This silent contemplation spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation more than any direct words he uttered.
Sirius Black comforted Harry while anxiously glancing at Lynch, clearly awaiting his analysis and judgment. Although he himself had dealt with dark wizards quite a bit, when it came to such bizarre and strange matters, no one was more qualified to speak than the infamous Hangman.
The heavy silence lasted for almost a minute, and the air seemed to thicken as Lynch pondered.
"It's not a dream." He bluntly refuted Sirius's comforting words, "At least, not entirely."
His gaze sharpened like a knife.
"Harry, I need your memory of this 'dream.' The original, clearest version."
As he spoke, he casually flicked his left hand through the air, and with a flip of his palm, a small, crystal-clear glass bottle appeared out of thin air in his palm, its mouth sealed with a cork.
"Concentrate, recall it, try to get back to the feeling you had when you first woke up," Lynch instructed, while extending his right index finger.
Although Harry was a little uneasy, his trust in Uncle Lynch outweighed everything else.
He did as instructed, closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind of distractions, focusing once again on those unbearable yet unforgettable images: the searing scars, the eerie green flames, the agonizing spasms, the hissing incantations, the chilling green light, the maniacal laughter—
Just then, he felt Lin Qi's cool fingertips gently touch his temple.
A strange, slight feeling of detachment came over me; it wasn't painful, but rather somewhat cool.
He slightly opened his eyes and was surprised to see a wisp of silvery, soft, luminous substance being guided out from his temple, swaying gently and emitting a faint glow.
Those were his memories.
No one told him, but he instantly knew what it was.
Lynch's technique was steady and precise as he carefully guided the strand of silver into the opened glass bottle.
The silver thread slid into the bottom of the bottle, coiling slightly like a living thing, shimmering with a pearly luster. He quickly stuffed the cork in, twirled the bottle in his hand, and the glass bottle vanished silently, just as it had appeared.
Almost at the same instant, Lin Qi flipped his hand again, and another small potion bottle appeared in his hand.
The bottle is dark black and completely opaque.
"This is a potent sedative," Lynch handed Harry the small black vial. "Take a tiny sip, about the amount on the cap, before bed tonight. It should help block out some of the lingering negative effects, allowing you to at least get a peaceful night's sleep."
Harry took the slightly cool bottle and held it in his palm.
"You've been affected by the lingering influence of dark magic and need gentle purification and soothing," Lynch continued, the light sweeping across Harry's still pale face. "In a couple of days, I'll send over another potion to calm your nerves. Drink it on time; it will help stabilize your mind and alleviate the abnormal resonance of the scars. Until then, just try to keep your emotions from fluctuating too much."
Harry nodded, gripping the bottle of cold tranquilizer in his hand.
Although the shadow of Voldemort and the lingering fear of the nightmare still weighed heavily on his mind, Uncle Lynch's series of swift and unexpected "operations" that morning brought him a sense of peace. He even had a vague feeling that perhaps this summer on Privet Drive would no longer be as bleak and oppressive as before—at least, the Dursleys would probably be much more restrained because of the huge "compensation."
At that moment, Sirius Black put his arm around Harry's shoulder, his grey eyes gleaming, and suggested, "Why don't you come stay at my place! Number 12 Grimmauld Place may be old and run-down, and a bit—well, stubborn, but it's definitely a hundred times better than here!"
"Your room is all set, Harry!" This was a promise he had made to Harry before the summer holidays began, and something Harry had been secretly hoping for.
Harry's face immediately lit up with bright and genuine anticipation, his green eyes looking at his godfather as if he were about to nod in agreement.
The temptation to leave the Dursleys' house and actually live with the Godfather was too great.
However, Lynch's calm voice rang out before Harry could speak: "No."
Harry and Sirius looked at him at the same time, one looking completely bewildered, the other frowning.
"Because I need to talk to you, Sirius." Lynch's gaze fell on Black's face, his tone firm and leaving no room for negotiation. "You need to come abroad with me immediately to handle some urgent matters. We won't be back for a while. It's inconvenient and unsafe to bring Harry along."
"Going abroad? What for?" Sirius Black immediately pressed, instinctively pulling Harry even closer. "Right now? Harry just went through this—"
"I'll tell you the details later," Lin Qi interrupted him, not revealing more information, but the seriousness and urgency were unmistakable. "This matter is crucial; you must go in person, and you need to leave as soon as possible."
As he spoke, his tone softened slightly. He looked at Harry, then at Sirius Black, "After this matter is resolved, you can come and pick up Harry when you return home. For now, it's safer to let him stay here temporarily, with our agreement ensuring his basic needs are met and allowing him to receive necessary potion treatment."
Sirius opened his mouth, looked at the rapidly fading expectation in Harry's eyes, then at Lynch's unquestionable expression, and finally could only scratch his head in frustration, letting out a muffled groan of resentment.
He knew that Lynch wouldn't speak without reason, and he knew that something Lynch called "key" and required him to "go abroad immediately" was definitely not simple.
"Alright," he finally relented, but didn't forget to assure Harry, "I'll be back as soon as possible, Harry. I'll come back for you as soon as I'm done! And we can write to each other every day, delivered by owl, or with the two-way mirror! I promise!"
Although Harry was disappointed that he couldn't leave immediately, Uncle Lynch's clear promise that he could be picked up later and his godfather's assurance were reassuring.
He nodded, forcing a knowing smile at his godfather: "I understand, Sirius. You and Uncle Lynch need to be careful."
"9
Seeing that the two had reached a consensus, Lin Qi did not delay any longer.
He waved his arm, and the invisible soundproof barrier that had enveloped the living room vanished like ripples on water, allowing the sounds from the outside world—mainly the faint, suppressed whispers of excitement coming from upstairs—to become clear again.
"Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley, please come down," Lynch called out towards the stairs, his voice not loud, but clearly carrying up the stairs.
After a brief silence upstairs, hurried footsteps immediately filled the air.
Soon, the Dursleys reappeared in the living room with Dudley. Vernon's anger had been replaced by a mixture of tension, anticipation, and a carefully maintained "calm," while Penny remained pale, her eyes flickering and glancing at Lynch from time to time. Dudley seemed to still be processing everything that had happened that morning.
"We're leaving," Lynch announced succinctly, his gaze sweeping over the Dursleys. "Regarding the agreement we just reached, I hope you will strictly adhere to it. Harry's basic safety and peace while he's here is the bottom line. If anything goes wrong..." He didn't finish, but the pressure from his unfinished words made Vernon and Petunia simultaneously shrink back.
"Of course! Of course we will!" Vernon hurriedly assured him, even forcing an extremely unnatural, albeit friendly, smile at Harry. "Harry is our—well, relative. Of course we will—get along well." He stammered a bit, clearly not used to treating Harry this way.
Penny nodded rapidly, her voice weak but clear: "We'll be careful—we won't—we won't be like before."
Lin Qi said no more, only nodded slightly.
He glanced at Harry one last time, reminded him to "remember the tranquilizer," and then turned and walked steadily toward the door.
Sirius gave Harry a tight hug and whispered quickly in his ear, "Take care of yourself, I'll contact you soon!" Then he glared at the Dursleys, his warning undisguised, before letting go and following Lynch.
The two walked out of the white doors of No. 4 Privet Drive, one after the other, leaving the Dursleys' varied expressions and Harry's complex and unspoken gaze behind them.
Stepping into the slightly damp air of a summer morning, Sirius couldn't help but take a deep breath, as if to cleanse his lungs of the Dursleyan house's oppressive atmosphere.
He quickened his pace to stand beside Lynch, his brow furrowed, and asked urgently in a low voice, "Alright, can you tell me now? What's so urgent that you have to drag me abroad right away? Is it related to Harry's dream? Or have you discovered something else?"
Lynch's steps were steady and regular, and the sound of his leather shoes tapping on the sidewalk was clear but not hurried.
He stared straight ahead, his profile appearing particularly stern in the morning light.
Upon hearing Sirius's question, he did not answer immediately, but instead walked past the quiet porches of two more houses.
Just as Sirius's patience was about to run out and he was about to press for more information, Lin Qi spoke calmly, his voice utterly undisturbed: "There's nothing urgent that requires you to go abroad."