Eating Melon and Watching the Show

On the second floor of number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, Natsuhi's morning sun shone into the storage room, making it a bit hot.

The room was piled high with a mountain of clutter, so much so that neither Vernon Dursley nor Dudley Dursley could find anything they wanted. Only Petunia was the mistress of this room, and she could find anything for you.

As for Harry Potter, who lived in the storage room under the stairs, he would be scolded by his aunt for an hour every time he entered.

Petunia sat by the window, quietly flipping through a photo album, her face full of memories.

Suddenly, she closed the album, turned her head, and looked out the window.

A dark owl flew over the meticulously cared-for lilies in the garden and headed for her door, while a light-colored owl flew to the door of number 3 Privet Drive across the street.

A second later, the album was hidden in a corner where Vernon and Dudley would never find it. Petunia left the room with a bag of grey-black dye powder and went down to the spacious and bright kitchen.

She poured the dye into a pot, added water, and brought it to a boil. While it was still hot, she poured it into the large iron basin in the sink. Dudley's old clothes were in the basin; once dyed, they would be Harry's new clothes.

While the dye was boiling, Petunia made two crème brûlées and placed them on a plate, ready to leave the house.

Vernon happened to be coming downstairs and saw her. He casually asked, "Where are you going?"

Petunia replied, "Mr. Smith is back from his trip to France. I'm taking them some crème brûlée."

Vernon nodded and said, "We must thank Mr. Smith. If it weren't for his help, God knows when the gentlemen at 10 Downing Street would have fixed the streetlights."

Petunia carried the plate across Privet Drive to her neighbors' house and rang the doorbell.

The door opened after a while, and an 11-year-old handsome blonde boy answered.

"Good morning, Charles," Petunia said with a smile. "Would you like some crème brûlée?"

Whenever Charles heard someone call his name, he always wanted to touch his hair. It couldn't be helped; the old man who found him had severe naming difficulties. He'd seen a name on the old newspaper he was wrapped in and used it to name himself.

He always suspected that the old man's name, Jack Smith, was also made up randomly, as they were common British surnames and names. You could meet nine people with that name just by buying a bottle of soda on the street.

In the eyes of the residents of Little Whinging, Old Jack, who moved to number 3 Privet Drive nine years ago, was a kind, honest, old-fashioned, and occasionally humorous old gentleman. His adopted grandson was educated to be very polite, very smart, and very handsome, and everyone liked him.

A few years ago, Old Jack suddenly ran for election as a councilor for Surrey County and actually won. He later did a lot of practical work for his constituency, so neighbors would often bring him homemade pastries.

The Dursleys next door were the most frequent visitors, as they occasionally asked Old Jack to look after Harry.

Charles welcomed Petunia into the living room. It was only then that he realized he had been a little dazed after seeing the Hogwarts acceptance letter and had left it on the table, forgetting to put it away.

Petunia placed the plate of crème brûlée on the table, picked up the parchment curiously, and read the emerald-green text aloud: "Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Albus Dumbledore. President of the International Confederation of Wizards, President of the Wizarding Council, Order of Merlin, First Class. Dear Mr. Smith: We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will find a list of the required books and equipment enclosed. A professor will visit your home shortly to explain everything to you and your family. Deputy Headmistress... Wo... Minerva McGonagall."

Charles put on a smiling expression and said, "These are... props... A few friends invited me to perform in a play."

To his surprise, Petunia said as if in a dream, "Hogwarts, Dumbledore... Lily... So you're a wizard, just like Lily."

Charles fell silent. After a moment, he asked her, "Mrs. Dursley, would you like a cup of black tea?"

Petunia nodded. After sitting on the sofa, she asked again, "Can you... use magic to make tea?"

Charles replied with some difficulty, "I haven't learned yet."

He noticed that Petunia didn't seem to reject magic, unlike her usual impression of treating Harry as some kind of terrifying existence.

The tea was brewed quickly, but the two sat on the sofa, holding their teacups and staring at each other, unsure of what to say.

The living room was quiet, with only the ticking of the clock on the wall.

A doorbell rang, and Charles hurried to open the door.

The door opened, and what greeted him was a waterfall of a white beard.

"Good morning, Mr. Smith," Dumbledore said with a smile to the handsome young man in front of him. "May I come in for a sit-down?"

Charles shook his head and said, "Sorry, my grandfather isn't home, so I can't let strangers in."

Dumbledore maintained his smile. "I am not a stranger. I believe you have seen the Hogwarts acceptance letter, and my name is on it."

Charles put on a surprised expression. After recovering, he asked, "Are you Mr. Dumbledore, the one with so many titles?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I am."

At this moment, Charles's lips curved slightly, and he immediately welcomed him in. Mrs. Dursley was inside, and he wondered what would happen when they met.

Just as he had expected, the two froze for a moment upon seeing each other.

Petunia's eyes quickly filled with rage. Charles suspected that if he handed her a watermelon knife at that moment, she would not hesitate to hack up Old Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's expression flickered for a moment before returning to calm.

Charles nimbly poured tea and took a watermelon from the refrigerator, cut it, and placed it on the table. He took a slice for himself and retreated to the side to watch the show.

Petunia gritted her teeth and asked Old Dumbledore, "How did Lily die?"

At this moment, she was no longer like an ordinary housewife but a furious lioness.

Charles was startled; he hadn't expected her to have such a side.

Dumbledore said in a deep voice, "I regret Lily's death. She was killed by the Dark Lord, Voldemort, while protecting Harry."

"Details!" Petunia's eyes were fixed on Dumbledore. "I want all the details. Why did Voldemort want to kill Harry? Why didn't Lily hide? If she hid, why was she found by him? Was she betrayed? What were you doing at the time? What was James Potter doing? And what about Severus Snape? Wasn't he Lily's friend? What did he do?"

Charles, munching on the melon on the side, thought, If you send me a remote-controlled airplane, the same model as the one you gave Dudley this year, I can tell you Harry Potter from book one to book seven, plus Fantastic Beasts.

Dumbledore found himself unable to meet her gaze and said in a low voice, "Petunia, I am very sorry, but I cannot tell you too much."

The expected scene of Petunia furiously grabbing the watermelon knife from the table and attacking someone didn't happen. Instead, she instantly reverted to being an ordinary housewife and nonchalantly said to him, "You have a guest, so I won't disturb you," before leaving.

As Petunia left, she happened to meet Old Jack returning home.