The Lively Fireplace

At 4 Privet Drive, the Dursley house ' breakfast was again juicy grapefruit, shared among four people, each person receiving about a quarter of a grapefruit, accompanied by fried eggs and milk.

When breakfast was served, Dudley stuffed a quarter of a grapefruit into his mouth in one bite, chewed it a couple of times to squeeze out the juice, and swallowed it. He then ate a fried egg in one bite, and that was it. Dudley smacked his lips and looked longingly at Harry's portion.

Harry slowly and deliberately cut the grapefruit with his knife and fork, his movements as reserved as a gentleman. He picked up a piece and put it in his mouth, the fruity juice bursting in his mouth. The condiment was Dudley expression.

Hmm, this slightly sweet and tart flesh is actually quite good, and nutritious and healthy.

What should we use for a proper breakfast when we go back upstairs later?

Harry was happily fretting over this problem. In his room were birthday cakes sent by Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid, sugar-free snacks sent by Loren and Hermione, and convenience store food sent by Sirius Black...

Aunt Petunia glared sternly at Dudley, Uncle Vernon took a bite of the bland grapefruit, sighed heavily, and the wind made his unkempt beard tremble.

The doorbell rang, Uncle Vernon struggled to his feet, walking toward the Entrance Hall, muttering grumbling, "Who is it? I won't buy anything you're trying to sell..."

Dudley's eyes darted around, displaying a cleverness completely out of character for him. Taking advantage of Aunt Petunia's distraction while she was watching the kettle, he swiftly reached out and stole the remaining grapefruit and fried eggs from Uncle Vernon.

Harry was amazed that such a fat body could be so agile.

A voice came from the doorway, someone laughed loudly, and Uncle Vernon said something briefly, sounding somewhat annoyed. Then the front door closed, Uncle Vernon walked over angrily, pointing at Harry and yelling:

"You! Fine... fine!"

A few years ago, Harry might have been frightened by his angry, flushed face, but not now. Looking at the inexplicably irritable and angry fat man in front of him, his heart was as calm as the surface of Black Lake, with only gentle ripples.

"What?" Harry made a polite, confused expression.

"Look at this!" Uncle Vernon roared angrily, waving a strange envelope at Harry.

The envelope was covered with stamps, leaving only a small, one-inch square space on the front where the writer had filled in the Dursley house ' address in tiny, dense handwriting.

Harry struggled to suppress his laughter; the only person who would send a letter in such an unusual way was probably his good friend Ron.

Harry took the strange letter, opened it, and saw the salutation on the paper. Harry was somewhat surprised. "This is for you, Uncle Vernon."

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry angrily, snatched the letter, and read it aloud—

Dear Mr. Dursley:

We are strangers, but we are sure you have heard a lot about my son Ron from Harry.

Harry may have already told you that the Quidditch World Cup will be held on Monday night two weeks from now, and my husband Arthur got some of the best tickets through his connections in the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

I really hope you'll allow Harry to watch the game... We'd love to invite Harry to stay at our house until the game starts, then stay until the end of summer vacation, and see him safely back to school by train.

I hope to see Harry soon.

Your faithful

Molly Weasley

P. S.: I hope we put up enough stamps.

Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley had said when they parted at King's Cross Station: "... Bates already taught me, just stick the stamp on and put it in the mailbox, it's that simple..."

It seems Mr. Weasley didn't learn it completely, and incidentally, Mrs. Weasley also learned the wrong method.

"Looks like she really did put up enough stamps." Harry tried to keep his tone calm, though his heart was filled with joy, like it was soaking in the sweet juice of a grapefruit.

Uncle Vernon's eyes were practically spitting fire as he spat out each word through clenched teeth. "Tell them, however you want, to stop trying to contact us in these weird ways!"

Harry knew they were particularly sensitive to anything even slightly out of the ordinary, and their biggest fear was that someone would discover they had connections with someone like Mrs. Weasley, no matter how distant. Because of this concern, Harry had lived in the storage room under the stairs for ten years.

Were they trying to cover their tracks, or were they enjoying the torment of him...? Harry couldn't figure it out, and he didn't want to know.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry agreed readily, blinking at him. "So... can I go?"

"Go! Of course I'm going!" Vernon roared angrily. "I'd love for you, you weirdo, to stay in our house a few days less!"

"Thank you, Uncle. May Merlin protect you!"

Harry said this on purpose, and seeing his Uncle Vernon's purplish-red face twitch slightly and his expression become even more unpleasant, he turned around with a smile, took light steps upstairs, and went to reply to Mrs. Weasley in the manner of a wizard.

Back in her bedroom, Hedwig was already home, accompanied by a tiny owl, about the size of a small gray tennis ball, with an envelope in its small beak.

That was Ron's owl, who came with the old postman Errol on his birthday to deliver Ginny's birthday letter.

Harry took the letter and immediately recognized Ron's handwriting on the cover. Inside was a hastily written short note:

"Harry, I don't know if your Muggle have received your mother's letter yet, but things have changed a bit. Bill met Loren and Hermione at Gringotts, and my mother plans to visit them tomorrow and invite them over. Afterwards, she'll pick you up from your house..."

Yes, we're coming to pick you up whether your Muggle relatives like it or not, but Mom and Dad think it would be best to pretend to ask their opinion first. If they agree, please send a reply from Pigwidgeon as soon as possible, and we'll come to pick you up at 5 PM tomorrow. If they object, please also send a reply from Pigwidgeon as soon as possible, and we'll still come to pick you up at 5 PM tomorrow.

We'll probably be with Loren and Hermione. Percy works at the Department of International Magical Cooperation, so when you meet him, don't mention anything related to the 'foreign' or ' International Confederation of Wizards ' unless you want to be annoyed to death by him.

See you tomorrow.

Ron

The sound of a car starting came from downstairs; Uncle Vernon must have gone to work. Harry would tell them the news when he got back tonight... A smile crept across Harry's face.

After writing the reply, Harry had an owl named Pigwidgeon deliver it back. He watched it fly out the window and disappear into the air, then stood up from his desk, lay back on his bed, took out a piece of Hagrid's birthday cake, and began to eat it heartily.

It has a sweet and fragrant taste.

Hermione folded up a pair of black and white striped trousers while complaining, "Look at all that stuff in your pendant. Anyone who knows would think it's Sorcerer's Stone, but anyone who doesn't would think it's just junk!"

For a young wizard with a storage container, packing is a very simple task. There's no need to worry about whether it's necessary to carry such heavy or bulky items. Just throw them into your storage pendant if you feel you can use them.

At least Loren packed his luggage in less than ten minutes.

Lightweight spring/summer shirts, piled up. Loose-fitting casual trousers, piled up. A huge box of snacks from the Muggle supermarket, piled up. A few small gifts for the Weasley, piled up in a different spot.

Not far from the pendant space, there were also many magical items piled up: Sorcerer's Stone with immense Magic Power, Papyrus book with an ancient history, Fantasy Book that preserves the memories of the Legendary Wizard Nicolas Flamel, a stone sphere that seals the Horcrux of the Resurrection Stone, the eyeball and scales of an evil Basilisk, the Unicorn Hair, and a small hand mirror that shimmered with a strange scarlet Magic Power...

Loren, who had packed his bags in just ten minutes, couldn't help but show off to Hermione, and what was originally an easy task had taken a turn for the better—

Hermione instructed him to neatly fold clothes by season and store magical items separately by category, with the Sorcerer's Stone, Unicorn Hair, Basilisk scales, and eyeballs all requiring their own individual boxes.

I was busy until 1 p. m. after lunch, and there was still a pile of summer clothes that hadn't been neatly folded.

"Professor McGonagall told us that simplifying complexity is the mindset of a wise wizard, so why make things so complicated..." Loren muttered under his breath.

Hermione placed the neatly folded pants aside and rolled her eyes dramatically.

I can't be bothered with him.

Meanwhile, at Granger house next door, the adults from two neighboring families in Hampstead Garden on the outskirts of the city gathered around a tea table, silently drinking steaming hot black tea in a somewhat tense atmosphere.

Soon a group of all sorts of wizards would be visiting their home, making the Mr. and Mrs. Granger incredibly nervous and anxious. When Loren and Hermione told them yesterday that the Weasley family would be visiting the following afternoon, the Mr. and Mrs. Granger were caught off guard and pulled Bates aside to discuss how to entertain them.

"When we were in first year, we hosted Loren and Hermione's headmaster, an old wizard with a white beard. I heard he was over a hundred years old and seemed quite approachable..." Wendell took a sip of tea and muttered, unable to bear the quiet atmosphere, "Although I don't know what the Weasley family wizards are like, to be honest, I'm quite looking forward to it... just a little nervous."

Monica refilled his teacup, feeling both nervous and happy. This was the second time a parent and child had visited besides Loren. Hermione was finally a child with normal social skills!

Bates chuckled and said, "We met at the Leaky Cauldron, and we chatted when I picked up the kids from the station during the summer. Don't worry, he's a very easy person to get along with."

"How will they get here?" Wendell relaxed a bit, swirling his teacup. "Hermione said wizards use brooms for transportation. I'd love to try it out..."

"Um?"

Monica looked over with a puzzled expression.

Wendell quickly corrected himself. "Let me see, I mean let me see."

As they were talking, a heavy knocking sound suddenly came from behind the fireplace in the living room.

"Oh no! Fred —go back, go back quickly, there must be a mistake—tell George to stop—oh no!"

A muffled cry of pain came from the fireplace wall, "George, go back and tell Ron that there's no room here."

Thanks to advancements in heating technology, most Muggle homes no longer burn fireplaces. Fireplaces are now sealed off as decorative structures, with at most a fake charcoal stove placed inside.

In retrospect, this lifestyle caused serious inconvenience for wizards when they traveled.

"Dad—maybe Loren and Hermione can hear us, maybe they'll let us out!"

"Oh, you're right, George!"

"I am George— "

"I am Fred!"

Wendell and Bates exchanged a silent glance, their expressions complex, their feelings even more complicated.

The image of wizards in their minds has changed somewhat.

Monica stepped back a few paces, picked up the phone, and dialed the number next door, intending to have two other young wizards come to rescue the wizards trapped in the fireplace.

Several fists pounded heavily on the wall behind the electric stove, sounding painful. "Loren? Hermione, can you hear me?"

With a complicated expression, Bates walked up and knocked on the wall, speaking through the panel: "Mr. Weasley, this is Bates... The fireplace is sealed shut, and it will be difficult for you to get out of here."

"Sealed off?" Mr. Weasley's voice came from inside the wall. "Why would you seal off a perfectly good fireplace? Won't you get cold in the winter?"

"We're using an electric stove now."

"And there's heating," Wendell added with great interest.

"Really?" Mr. Weasley's voice suddenly became excited. "You mean it's electric? It has a plug? That's fantastic, I must see it... Let me think—oh, Ron!"

"What are we doing here? What happened?"

A slightly younger voice, sounding like someone Loren's age, joined in, Hānhan and goofy.

Loren and Hermione received the call and immediately teleported back from next door—some of the summer clothes hadn't been packed away yet, Hermione reluctantly agreed to let Loren pack them later when he had time, as she wanted to check them.

The scene in front of the fireplace was a little different from what they had expected.

The living room chandelier was brightly lit, and the cups on the tea table were steaming. The three parents were gathered around the sealed fireplace, inside Weasley family were trapped, chatting merrily through the partition.

"How do you pay your electricity bills? Do you feed coins to the sockets?" Mr. Weasley's enthusiastic voice came from inside, making the wall panels creak.

"..." The three Muggle fell silent.

"You can't put coins in the socket, you'll get an electric shock," Bates replied.

"Electric shock!"

George and Fred cried out in surprise:

"You can get an electric shock with just one touch?!"

"Cool!"

"I understand, we need to use paper money, right?"

"..."