Harry's Startling Summer Holiday

The July holiday was rather muggy. No one had watered it for the past month, and the sycamore tree Bates planted behind the yard had some branches withered from the sun, but it wasn't completely dead yet, clinging to the trunk with a sliver of life. The leaves were dry and hard, occasionally rustling crisply in the breeze.

Bates was heartbroken and went to the garden center every day to ask the staff how to save the trees so that they could bloom with purple pompom flowers again next year.

The Mr. and Mrs. Granger ' dental clinic is also in turmoil. They had a backlog of patients while on vacation in Egypt, and now that it's reopened, they're incredibly busy. They've been having dinner at Loren's house for the past few days.

Loren and Hermione have been working on their summer homework these past few days. Hermione, in particular, has completely overturned her previously prepared outline for her A History of Magic paper and plans to condense and refine the Ancient Magic in Egypt and include it in her paper.

Loren said her actions were torturing the old professor, Binns.

On the morning of July 31, at Granger house's villa in Hampstead Garden, a suburb of the city.

Loren leaned back on the sofa armrest, holding the phone receiver to his ear. He waited for a response before speaking, "Hello? I'm looking for Harry Potter."

A middle-aged woman's voice came from the other end of the phone. "Wait a moment, he's upstairs unpacking the birthday presents he received today."

Then the voice moved further away, its volume decreased, but its tone became higher. "Harry! Your friend is looking for you!"

From further away, Harry's even smaller voice called out, "Coming! Aunt Petunia!"

After a series of clattering sounds of people coming down the stairs, the receiver was handed to another person, Harry's voice filled with joy. "Hello?"

"Happy birthday, Harry," Loren said.

These words immediately opened Harry's long-closed floodgates, and he began to chatter incessantly. "Loren! I knew you guys were back! Hānhan flew away five days ago at dusk, and Hedwig didn't go looking for it, but then it brought gifts and a card early this morning. I was thinking of contacting you guys first. How was Egypt? Was it fun? Did you run into Ron? Oh, and thank you and Hermione for the flying broomstick care kit, I love it!"

"Oh!" Loren held the receiver a little further away. "You sound like you haven't spoken to anyone in a month."

Harry said wistfully, "If I could travel to Egypt instead of staying here with my Muggle relatives and taking care of two owls that fly around all day, I probably wouldn't be so bored."

What else could I do? Tell my Muggle aunt and uncle about the history of Witch being burned at the stake in the 14th century, or tell my Muggle cousin about the troublesome Shrinking Solution? I could only talk to my Hānhan and Hedwig every day, and they were always out at night.

Loren: "..."

Such intense resentment seemed to materialize and spread along the telephone line.

After a moment of silence, Loren coughed twice and changed the subject. "How are you getting along with your aunt's family? Are you still having headaches?"

"Same as always." Harry sighed deeply. "I can't accept their affection, and I can't take my anger out on them. You know what, Aunt Petunia still let me move into the upstairs bedroom, and Uncle Vernon even got me a birthday present and cake. Well, Dudley ate most of it..."

Aunt Petunia even offered to take me to the zoo, but I refused. Two years ago, if I had dreamt of this, I would have immediately realized it was a dream.

"You wrote to me last time and told me to treat them like strangers. I tried, but I can't do it... To be honest, I would rather they treated me like they did two years ago. That would make me feel better."

Harry's tone was complex, a mixture of hatred, disgust, and discomfort with this affection. He had always longed for family, yet had never experienced true family love. When it arrived in this way, Harry couldn't let go of the past and was filled with inner turmoil.

Loren didn't have any good advice. "If you're not comfortable spending time together, then reduce the time you spend together."

"That's what I'm doing now. I spend all my free time alone in my room." Harry sighed with regret. "It's hard to believe, but with a month left before school starts, I've already finished my homework."

"Hermione must be very envious of you; she's struggling with her thesis on the A History of Magic," Loren said with a chuckle.

"You must be joking. Hermione would have a headache over A History of Magic paper? A headache over not being able to fit her thoughts on parchment?"

"Pretty much. She plans to condense the history of ancient Egypt Ancient Magic into her thesis, which is expected to take several volumes of parchment."

"Haha, that's definitely something Hermione would do," Harry said. "Is she there? I'd like to say a few words to her."

"Actually, this is the Granger house's phone number. Just a moment." Loren called towards the study, "Hermione, Hermione! Harry wants to speak with you."

Hermione heard the noise and came running out of the study, a quill in her hand. She took the phone from Loren and said, "Happy birthday, Harry!"

"Thank you, Hermione!" Now that it was a different person, Harry's conversation flowed again. He threw the question that Loren hadn't answered at Hermione, "How was your trip to Egypt? Did you run into Ron and the others?"

"Oh, actually it's complicated. We didn't run into Ron, but we did run into his older brother, Bill Weasley. We also met Professor Babbling from Ancient Rune, who was involved in the development of a Pyramid site. I can't tell you the details; Professor Babbling told us to keep it a secret."

As Hermione spoke, she glared at Loren, who had taken out a quill and drawn a little turtle on her hand while she was on the phone.

"It's going to be an amazing adventure!" Harry's eyes lit up with envy.

"How was your birthday?" Hermione asked.

"Fantastic! I love all your gifts. Ron gave me a Sneakoscope, Sirius Black gave me a Firebolt. I'll be able to try out your flying broom care kit."

Thinking back to the three-digit price tag I saw at the Quidditch supply store that day, it was for an old-fashioned flying broom, and the price of the Firebolt was negotiable...

Hermione fell silent for a moment; Pure-blood Families really are rich.

Then look at Loren, who's drawing little turtles on his nails. Hmm, this guy's got money too.

"By the way, have you received the book list for next semester from the school? The textbook for the Care of Magical Creatures is very interesting; Hagrid has already sent it to me."

"Really? I can't wait to preview next semester's material. But we haven't received it yet; I guess the owl is still on its way."

"Speaking of birthdays, I remember Loren's birthday is August 6th, which is coming up soon. I'm hesitating about what birthday present to give Loren. He doesn't seem to like Quidditch very much. You know him better, do you have any suggestions?"

Hearing Harry's voice over there, Hermione glanced at Loren without saying a word. The fool was still painting the little turtle's shell black. "Birthday presents are always good if they come from friends."

"That makes sense. I'll think about it some more."

"Um."

Suddenly, a muffled voice came from the other end, and Harry's voice became somewhat flustered. "Alright, let's stop here for today. I need to go and discuss hosting Aunt Marge with my aunt and uncle. Goodbye, Hermione."

"Again—" Hermione's farewell was cut short as the call was disconnected.

Loren watched as Hermione put down the receiver, pulled her other hand out of his, and used a Cleaning Charm to wash away the turtles drawn on it, leaving her hand white and smooth again. Then, he pressed that soft, white hand against his face...

4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

"Aunt Marge?" Harry stood by the table, as if struck by a sudden blow, and blurted out, "She—she's coming here tomorrow?"

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. She lived in a house with a large garden in the countryside and kept many bulldogs. She didn't come to Privet Drive often, but every time she visited, she left Harry with a terrifying impression that he still remembers vividly.

At Dudley's fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge whacked Harry's leg with her cane just to stop him from beating Dudley in a game... There were many similar incidents. The last one was the year before Harry went to Hogwarts, when Harry accidentally stepped on her beloved dog's paw and was chased into the garden, where he climbed a tree. Aunt Marge didn't call the dog back until after midnight. To this day, Dudley still laughs until tears stream down his face when he thinks about it.

Aunt Peggy looked at him with a strange expression. Harry was a little dazed. He couldn't remember what he had said to Uncle Vernon. In any case, during the week that Aunt Marge was staying, he had to behave like a normal high school student.

Harry went upstairs to his bedroom, feeling dejected. He slowly gathered all the gifts and Birthday Card, along with his homework, spellbooks, and so on. Thank Loren; at least the Storage Scale meant he didn't have to dig a hole to hide these things.

After packing his things, Harry walked toward Hedwig's cage. Next to it was Errol from the Ron family, an old owl who was exhausted from delivering his birthday present and was now fast asleep with Hedwig, his head buried in his wing.

"Hedwig, Hedwig!" Harry patted the snowy owl awake with a worried look. "I'm afraid you'll have to go out and avoid the area for a week. You can take Errol back with you; I'm worried something might happen to him on the way. Ron will take care of you. I'll write Ron a short letter and explain things to him."

Hedwig snowy owl's large amber eyes were full of reproach.

Harry said apologetically, "I'm sorry, but we can't let Aunt Marge find out about you..."

Ten minutes later, Errol and Hedwig flew out of the window together, carrying a text message for Ron.

The next day, at nine o'clock in the morning.

"Alright, Petunia, I'm going to the station to pick up Marge," Uncle Vernon said, clumsily standing up. "Dada, want to go for a drive with me?"

"I don't want to," Dudley said bluntly to his father.

"Dada looks so pretty today. Your aunt will be so happy to see you at the station. And you got a beautiful new bow tie from your mother." Aunt Petunia ran her fingers through Dudley's thick, golden hair and whispered in his ear, "Maybe Aunt Marge will be so happy that she'll give you a lot of pocket money."

Dudley immediately stood up, his chubby body trembling as he followed Vernon, and together they went to the station to pick someone up.

Harry sat blankly on the sofa, the Dudley game's defeat result animation in front of him. He didn't really care what was in front of him or what was happening around him; he planned to deal with this state for the entire week.

Aunt Petunia walked over to the television to put away Dudley's game console. Her thin, bony figure swayed in front of Harry as she said indifferently, "I don't really like Marge."

"Huh?" Harry slowly came to his senses.

"Her dog always chews up carpets, sofas, curtains and tablecloths. She always gives the dog human tableware, some of which is very expensive... The dog's saliva and urine spill on the floor, and it takes me a long time to clean it up."

"But why..."

"Because she's Vernon's sister," Aunt Petunia said, putting the game controller back in the cupboard and turning to go back to the Kitchen to start preparing lunch.

Harry stood there dumbfounded.

The TV disconnected from the game console, and the radio signal regained control of the screen. A news anchor was interrupting the broadcast with a news report:

"... The public is reminded that Lestrange and Peter are armed and extremely dangerous. A dedicated hotline has been set up, and anyone who sees them should report it immediately."

In the blink of an eye, the crunching sound of gravel being crushed could be heard outside. Uncle Vernon's car slowly turned into the driveway, and the group got out and walked along the garden path.

"Get to the door quickly!" Aunt Petunia whispered to Harry.

Harry went over and opened the door, dejected. Aunt Marge was standing there.

She looked a lot like Uncle Vernon; she was tall and stocky, with a purplish-red face and even a small mustache, though not as thick as Uncle Vernon's.

She was carrying a suitcase in one hand and had her arm around a grumpy old bulldog in the other.

"Petunia!" Aunt Marge strode past Harry as if she couldn't see him.

Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed each other, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large chin hard against Aunt Petunia's thin, bony cheekbone.

Harry saw Aunt Petunia in pain, tears welling up in her eyes. Marge and Vernon probably thought it was tears of joy at their long-awaited reunion, and they both laughed heartily.

When Harry carried Marge's suitcase upstairs and came back down, they were already sitting together enjoying tea and snacks, while the old bulldog Ripper was slurping his tea in the corner.

Harry noticed Aunt Petunia frown slightly because the dog had spilled tea and saliva on the clean floor.

The people at the table were exchanging pleasantries, but as soon as Harry sat down, Ripper yelled at him as if he were a stranger in the house.

This drew Aunt Marge's attention to Harry for the first time, and she yelled, "What are you still doing here!"

"Yes." Harry forced a wry smile at Aunt Peggy, remembering her words.

"Don't you dare grin at me like that!" Aunt Marge snapped. "It's obvious you haven't improved at all since I last saw you. I was hoping that going to school would teach you some manners."

She took a big gulp of tea and wiped her mustache. "Vernon, say it again, where did you send him to school?"

"Hogwarts, a first-rate school for juvenile delinquents," Uncle Vernon immediately chimed in.

"I know," Aunt Marge snapped across the table. "Do they use whips at Hogwarts, boy?"

"Yes." Harry thought of the threats Filch had made to them and added, suppressing a laugh, "The wardens would hang the students' thumbs up from the ceiling and then whip them."

Aunt Petunia's eyes widened immediately. This was different from what Lily had said. Hogwarts changed its system?

"That's great," said Aunt Marge. "I don't want to listen to that long-winded, boring lecture about not being able to use corporal punishment. Some people just deserve a beating, and in 99% of cases, a good spanking will solve the problem..."

Aunt Marge continued to ramble on, claiming she would write to the school to increase the severity of his beatings.

Harry thought this guy and Filch would get along well, and Filch thought so too, but letters from parents to the school were usually read by Professor McGonagall or Headmaster Dumbledore, who would most likely throw the letter into the fireplace.

And so Aunt Marge settled in at 4 Privet Drive. She always found an opportunity to pick on Harry and yell at him. Sometimes Harry even missed the old days, when at least Marge wasn't there.

Marge often subtly hinted at why Harry had become such a good-for-nothing.

"Vernon, you must not blame yourself for how this child has become. If the core of a person is corrupted, no one can help them."

"This is a basic law of heredity that is often seen in dogs. If the mother dog has a problem, the puppies will certainly not be any better."

Harry suppressed his anger and endured until the very last day.

Dinner was sumptuous that day, and while Aunt Petunia was enjoying her after-dinner coffee with her pinky finger raised, Dudley was eating his fourth cookie.

Aunt Marge smacked her lips, let out a loud burp, and patted her large belly. "Please forgive me, but I'm so happy to see a healthy boy, Dada. You'll grow up to be a strong and healthy man, just like your father."

"And look at this one," she tilted her head toward Harry, "This one's a pathetic, shifty-eyed coward. Some dogs are like that; I drowned one last year, it looked like a little mouse, sickly and underdeveloped."

Like I said, it's all genetics. Bad genes will show up sooner or later.

Aunt Petunia's smile became forced and unpleasant. She finally put down her coffee and looked at Marge with a cold expression.

"Oh, Petunia, I'm not saying anything bad about your family," Marge said, patting Petunia's bony hand with her shovel-like grip. "But your sister is a real scoundrel. Sometimes good families have people like that. Then she eloped with a scoundrel, and now she's sitting right in front of us."

That guy named Potter, a good-for-nothing, lazy bum, liar, utterly useless fellow, they gave birth to this lying scoundrel, a burden to these respectable, hardworking relatives!

Aunt Marge grew angrier with each word. Looking at Harry's furious eyes, she screamed, "You rude, ungrateful little brat—"

Upon hearing these words, Harry felt a strong urge surge within him. His hands trembled uncontrollably, and anger welled up in his blood, making his head throb.

The world fell silent, and everything slowed down. Harry could see the wine dripping from the tablecloth onto the floor, splashing out in asymmetrical patterns.

He saw Aunt Petunia's mouth opening and closing, her thin, long face flushed red, as she argued loudly with Marge.

A powerful energy resounded around him, flowing rapidly and filling the small house, responding to Harry's will as if it were his own arm...