Home

The train continued southward, and the sunlight outside grew brighter and brighter.

Time flew by and it was almost noon. Lunchtime arrived, and the rumbling of tires echoed through the aisle of the carriage as the chubby Witch pushed her cart, hawking chilled Pumpkin Juice and various cakes and snacks.

Hermione pinched someone's cheeks and pulled them apart, calling out weakly in a low voice, "Wake up, Loren, wake up..."

Such a sound, of course, cannot wake someone up.

Hermione pursed her lips to hide her smile, shamelessly pinching his cheeks, occasionally flicking his nose and pinching the tip, having a great time.

After playing for a dozen seconds, Hermione saw those eyes suddenly open, with a layer of silvery-white light floating on the dark pupils, like a whale that had shrunk a thousand times and was waving its tail fin, flashing by in a daze.

The process was so fast that one might mistake it for the reflection of the bright sunlight and shadows outside the window in one's eyes.

Loren stared resentfully at her small hands pinching the soft flesh on her cheeks and her ambiguous smile, his gaze as cold as the Sword of Gryffindor, piercing and making one afraid to look directly at him.

"Cough cough..."

Hermione cleared her throat, calmly lowered her hands, and said naturally with a straight face, "I'm calling you to get up for lunch, Loren. The food cart is coming soon."

As Loren emerged from the Fantasy Book, he squinted slightly to adjust to the sunlight, rubbed his slightly sore cheeks, and silently stared at Hermione's fair face, making Hermione shrink back guiltily.

"Is it fun?"

Hermione nodded, then quickly shook her head.

"It's fun, isn't it? I want to play too," Loren said quietly. "From now on, you'd better keep one eye open when you sleep."

"I really just wanted to wake you up for lunch..." Hermione blinked innocently, "Please believe me, Loren ..."

"Yeah?"

Loren's voice was calm.

"Certainly!"

Hermione nodded earnestly, and just when she thought she could get away with it, she heard a devilish voice in her ear.

"How about I wake you up at 3 a. m. every night for a midnight snack?"

"!"

Hermione's eyes widened immediately, and she slowed her breathing. "I, I don't eat midnight snacks."

"Then I'll wake you up and put you to bed."

"Get up... go to sleep?" Hermione was a little confused.

"Get up and go back to sleep."

"!"

Is this even possible?

Hermione held her breath, staring intently at the man's face for a long time. Once she was sure he wasn't joking, she began to feel a little uneasy.

It certainly sounds like something Loren would do.

Does that mean I won't be able to sleep peacefully this summer?!

We have to figure out a way to get through this...

"I just saw something in your eyes!" Hermione's little mind was even more active than during an exam. "It's probably just the reflection of sunlight and shadow, it looks like your Patronus, Loren, isn't that interesting?"

Hermione gave a dry laugh, then obediently shut her mouth, intimidated by his cold gaze.

Loren blinked his slightly sore eyes without making a sound, then kept his gaze fixed on the scene.

From this angle, Hermione's fair face is clearly visible, dazzling in the sunlight. Her features are delicate, and a few strands of her brown hair, disheveled from her sleeping, curl up restlessly from the corners of her mouth, creating a touch of messy beauty. Her obedient yet aggrieved expression adds even more to her allure.

Loren couldn't help but want to watch a little longer, but Hermione's words stirred something within him.

I saw Patronus in their eyes...

A series of clicking and clattering sounds from the aisle interrupted his gaze. A woman pushed open the door to the private room and asked, "Darling, would you like to buy some food from the car?"

The fat Witch selling things was still the same as before, with a friendly smile and dimples, only she looked a bit older.

Harry and Ron were also startled awake by the loud noise of the cart wheels, pulling them from their world of letters and owls to the food on the cart.

"Please give us a pitcher of chilled Pumpkin Juice, thank you."

When Loren got up to pay the change, he glared at the guilty little Witch, took the Pumpkin Juice from the vendor's cart, and when he returned to his seat, he started taking out all sorts of food from his bag: steaming hot potato stew with beef brisket, freshly baked banana pie, bread with a still-crispy crust, and stewed chickpeas.

The fat Witch selling her wares put the Bronze Knut she had just received into her purse. When she looked up and saw this scene, her expression gradually froze. She subconsciously swallowed and then silently turned around and pushed her cart away.

His back view looked rather lonely.

When the small table was completely full and there was no more room for anything else, Loren took out cutlery and distributed it to the group, while he took out two small wooden sticks and began to eat.

Although it looked like Loren had taken the food out of his backpack, Hermione, Harry, and Ron all knew that he had actually taken it from Storage Scale, specifically Storage Scale with heat-insulating properties.

Harry swallowed hard. "I'm sure Professor Lupin won't go hungry now, really."

Ron nodded rapidly.

During the meal, the vendor with the cart passed by the private room twice more. Each time he passed by, the clicking sound of the cart would become louder, because the vendor was pushing the cart faster.

She seemed unwilling to stay there for even a second longer.

After finishing lunch, Loren put down the small wooden stick and lazily slumped in his seat, a look of contentment on his face. "These plates and utensils belong to the school. Put them in your own Storage Scale and remember to return them to the school when the new school year starts."

"Okay!" Harry and Ron were very aware of their freeloading, and they cleaned up the table themselves. They swept away the crumbs in a Whizbangs, and put all the dishes and utensils into Harry's scales, except for Loren's little stick.

With a bad girl lurking around, Loren, who had slept all morning, couldn't fall back asleep. He leaned against the window, looking at the scenery, and chatted with his friends.

Chatting and laughing, time passed by just like that.

The train sped across the open fields without stopping.

As dusk fell and the sun began to set, villages slowly came into view outside the window, followed by cities with red roofs and white walls. Amidst the whistling of the train whistle and the dull thud of the drive shaft, the train pulled into King's Cross Station.

Emerging from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, they were greeted by a wave of sweltering heat and a slight stench from the bustling crowd. The next moment, the station's clamor reached their ears, jolting the young wizards awake—they were back in Muggle City.

The young wizards exiting the station were inevitably a little dazed, feeling a subtle sense of loss. Just this morning, they were in the ancient magic Castle, surrounded by people talking about spells and Potions. Now, all they could hear were the diverse noises of Muggle, completely devoid of magic, along with the indifferent sounds of mechanical transmissions and station announcements.

This is the sense of disillusionment I feel after living at the magic school for the past six months; I feel this way every time I go home for vacation.

To punish the little Witch for her mischief, Loren handed both suitcases to Hermione and carried the wooden basket himself, walking easily out of the station. Crookshanks was curled up in the basket, his two front paws covering his ears, looking like a furry ball trying to escape reality.

Hermione followed beside her, dragging two empty suitcases, looking helpless.

Inside King's Cross Station, pedestrians hurriedly exited the station or entered to board trains, while many others waited to pick up passengers. Among this group, a strange middle-aged couple with red hair stood out.

The woman in the couple was short and plump, dressed in old-fashioned clothes that had even faded from washing. Every now and then, she would stand on tiptoe and look expectantly at the partition wall between Platform 9 and Platform 10, as if hoping that someone would crawl out from behind the wall.

Her husband was even stranger. He was tall and thin, somewhat bald, and dressed in old-fashioned clothes, as if they were from the last century. He always looked at passersby with a strange gaze. When someone noticed his stare and angrily cursed at him, his wife would always angrily slap him a few times and scold him.

After that, he would behave himself a little better, shifting his strange gaze from pedestrians to the station's machines. Whether it was the loudspeakers on the wall or the ticket machines, he would stare at them for a long time with burning eyes, as if he had never seen them before.

They were so strange, so out of place with the people around them, that it was hard not to arouse suspicion.

A man behind them seemed to have his eye on them. He was a tall, obese man, so fat that he almost had no neck. His face looked purplish-red, with small eyes, thick, dark hair, and a large beard.

The obese man stood some distance away from the red-haired couple, his small eyes gleaming with suspicion as he stared at them.

Just then, an elderly man with gray hair and beard, but in good health, approached the red-haired couple. He greeted them warmly and enthusiastically introduced them to every machine on the platform. Sometimes he would even let the red-haired husband touch and operate them.

Vernon Dursley, who was observing from the shadows, breathed a sigh of relief. The old man was perfectly normal; he was wearing Muggle Muggle suit and tie, and his hair was styled with Muggle gel. He was definitely not one of those guys.

In that case, the couple shouldn't be some strange sorcerers, but just relatives from the countryside.

That's how people who live in the countryside are; they're always shouting and have never seen the world.

Last year, a relative like that came to his house. This noisy relative angered his wizard nephew, who was eventually blown up into a balloon by evil magic and floated to the ceiling. Later, a group of people claiming to be Ministry of Magic employees arrived, and no one knows how they handled it, but Marge seemed to have completely forgotten about it.

That's just how people who live in the countryside are.

Vernon Dursley admitted that he also disliked wizards, but he was wise not to rashly provoke them.

That's how people who live in the countryside are...

Just as Vernon Dursley lowered his guard, several children suddenly emerged from the partition between Platform 9 and Platform 10. Vernon's eyes quickly locked onto one of them, a black-haired, green-eyed boy with glasses. He was among a group of red-haired children, happily pushing his suitcase and running forward.

Wait, red hair!

Vernon Dursley's gaze sharpened.

"Oh, my dear children..."

"Long time no see, dear Harry, you've gotten thinner..."

"And you, dear Loren, Hermione..."

Mrs. Weasley greeted each young wizard with a bright smile, including Loren and Hermione. "You arrived a little later than I expected... If you had arrived any later, we probably would have had to visit someone else."

The young wizards followed her gaze, their expressions becoming subtle.

The father of several young red-haired wizards, Arthur Weasley, was chatting and laughing heartily with an old Muggle man, seemingly oblivious to everyone around them. The old man's laughter made them feel somewhat unfamiliar with him.

Loren and Hermione slowly walked over, asking in astonishment, "Grandpa Bates! What are you doing here?"

Bates turned around and saw that his son was only carrying a wooden basket with a cat in it, while Hermione was pushing two suitcases. She couldn't help but flick him on the head, glared at him, and said angrily, "What am I doing here? I came to pick you two up!"

"You brat!" Bates couldn't help but tap him on the head again, rub Hermione's head, and take the suitcase from her.

She tossed it in her hand; it felt light as a feather. Bates glanced at him—

Even though they were all empty boxes, this kid still deserved to be hit.

Hermione stood silently beside Grandpa Bates.

The girl's expression was calm, but Loren could still see a hint of smugness in her eyes. However, he had other things to worry about right now and would settle the score with her later.

He covered his forehead, wincing in pain, and asked, "I mean, how did you end up chatting with Mr. Weasley?"

"Two years ago, I was drinking with Hagrid at the Leaky Cauldron. When you came back, I saw Mr. Weasley. and Mrs. Weasley from afar. When I was waiting for you at the station, I saw them again and went up to talk to them."

Bates said, "Learn from the Scout's keen senses, kid!"

"Aren't they logistics transport soldiers?"

Loren couldn't help but ask, earning another flick on the forehead.

As they were talking, Mrs. Weasley came over with the other young wizards. After introducing themselves, George and Fred seemed to like Bates a lot, circling around him and making Bates laugh non-stop.

After chatting for a while, Mrs. Weasley, seeing that it was getting dark, said goodbye.

Before parting, Ron said to the group, "Wait for my news, I'll talk about the Quidditch World Cup!"

"It's a phone call..." Harry corrected, glancing at Vernon behind him. "Let's write a letter instead. I'm worried that calling might upset the Dursley house."

Mr. Weasley couldn't help but interject. "Then I'll write to you in the Muggle way. Don't worry, Bates just taught me. Just put on a stamp and slip it into the mailbox, it's that simple..."

"Hurry up, Arthur, we still need to go home and cook!"

Urged on by Mrs. Weasley, the red-haired family walked away laughing and joking.

Harry said his goodbyes and pushed his suitcase toward his Uncle Vernon was waiting nearby. Their meeting wasn't as tense or argumentative as one might expect; the atmosphere wasn't heavy either. After a brief greeting, Vernon opened the trunk and put in his luggage. Harry got into the back seat, and the car slowly started moving, heading toward Privet Drive, which wasn't far away.

Bates ruffled the two children's hair and called out, "Let's go! We're going home too!"