On a summer morning in Little Whinging, Surrey, southwest London, bright sunlight streamed into the second-floor storage room at 4 Privet Drive, making it somewhat hot.
The room was piled high with mountains of junk. Neither Vernon Dursley nor Dudley Dursley could ever find what they wanted in there. Only Petunia, the room's owner, could find anything at all.
As for Harry Potter, who lived in the cupboard under the stairs, every time he entered this room, his aunt would berate him for an hour.
Petunia sat by the window, quietly flipping through a photo album, her face filled with memories.
Suddenly, she closed the album and turned to look outside.
A dark owl flew over the carefully tended lilies in the garden toward the front door, while a light-colored owl flew to the door of 3 Privet Drive across the street.
A second later, the photo album was hidden in a corner Vernon and Dudley would never find. Petunia took a bag of gray-black dye powder and left the room, heading downstairs to the spacious, brightly lit kitchen.
She poured the dye into a pot, added water, and boiled it. While it was still hot, she poured it into a large iron basin in the laundry sink. There was an old piece of Dudley's clothing in the basin. Once dyed, it would become Harry's new clothes.
While the dye boiled, Petunia made two crème caramels. She placed them on a plate and was about to leave the house.
Vernon happened to be coming downstairs. When he saw her, he casually asked, "Where are you going?"
Petunia replied, "Mr. Smith has returned from his trip to France, so I'm taking them some crème caramel."
Vernon nodded. "We should thank Mr. Smith properly. If it weren't for his help, God knows when the gentlemen at 10 Downing Street would have come to repair the streetlights."
Petunia carried the plate across Privet Drive to the neighbor's house opposite and rang the doorbell.
It took a while for the door to open. The person who answered was a handsome eleven-year-old blond boy.
"Good morning, Charles." Petunia smiled at the handsome boy. "Would you like some crème caramel?"
Whenever Charles heard someone call his name, he always felt like touching his hair. He couldn't help it. The Old Man who had found him was a severe case of someone who couldn't name things. He had seen a name on the old newspaper wrapped around Charles and simply used it to name him.
Charles had always suspected that the Old Man, Jack Smith, had made up his own name as well. They were both common British names and surnames. He could go out to buy a bottle of Happy Water and run into nine people with that name.
In the eyes of the residents of Little Whinging, Old Jack, who had moved to 3 Privet Drive nine years ago, was a kind, upright, old-fashioned gentleman with an occasional touch of humor. His adopted grandson had been taught to be polite and was exceptionally clever and handsome. Everyone liked him.
A few years earlier, Old Jack had suddenly run for a seat on the Surrey County Council—and had actually won. He later accomplished quite a few practical things for his constituency, so neighbors often brought over snacks they had made themselves.
The Dursleys, who lived across the street, came most often, because they frequently had to trouble Old Jack with taking Harry in.
Charles welcomed Petunia into the living room. Only then did he realize that, after seeing Hogwarts' letter of acceptance, he had been so dazed that he had left it lying on the table.
Petunia placed the plate of crème caramel on the table, then picked up the parchment curiously and read the emerald-green writing aloud: "Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Albus Dumbledore. President of the International Confederation of Wizards, President of the Wizards' Association, 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. Enclosed is a list of the required books and equipment. A professor will soon visit your home to explain everything to you and your family. Deputy Headmistress... Mi... Minerva McGonagall."
Charles put on a smile and said, "This is... a prop... A few friends invited me to perform in a play."
Unexpectedly, Petunia murmured as if speaking in a dream, "Hogwarts, Dumbledore... Lily... So you're a wizard too, 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 down on the sofa, she asked, "Can you... use magic to make tea?"
Charles answered awkwardly, "I haven't learned how yet."
He realized that Petunia did not seem to reject magic. She was unlike the woman he remembered, who had treated Harry as some sort of terrifying existence.
The tea was ready soon enough, but the two of them sat on the sofa, holding their cups and staring blankly at each other, unsure what to say.
The living room was quiet, with only the clock on the wall going "tick-tock, tick-tock."
A ring of the doorbell sounded, and Charles hurried over to open the door.
When the door opened, the first thing he saw was a waterfall of white beard.
"Good morning, Mr. Smith." Dumbledore smiled at the handsome boy before him. "May I come in and sit for a while?"
Charles shook his head. "Sorry, my grandfather isn't home. I can't let strangers into the house."
Dumbledore kept smiling. "I'm not a stranger. I believe you've seen Hogwarts' letter of acceptance. My name is on it."
Charles put on a surprised expression. Once he recovered, he asked, "Are you Mr. Dumbledore, the man with all those titles?"
Dumbledore nodded once. "That's me."
At that moment, the corners of Charles's mouth lifted slightly. He immediately ushered Dumbledore inside. Mrs. Dursley was in there, after all. He wondered what would happen when the two of them met.
Just as he expected, the two froze for a moment when they saw each other.
Petunia's eyes quickly filled with fury. Charles suspected that if he handed her the watermelon knife he was holding, she would chop Old Dumbledore down without hesitation.
Dumbledore's expression changed only slightly before quickly returning to calm.
Charles efficiently poured tea, then took a watermelon from the refrigerator, cut it up, and placed it on the table. He took a slice for himself and hid to one side to watch the show.
Petunia gritted her teeth and asked Old Dumbledore, "How did Lily die?"
She no longer looked like an ordinary housewife. She was an enraged lion.
Charles was startled. He had not expected her to have this side to her.
Dumbledore said in a deep voice, "I deeply regret Lily's death. She was killed by Voldemort, who was known as the Dark Lord, while protecting Harry."
"Details!" Petunia glared fiercely at Dumbledore. "I want every detail. Why did Voldemort want to kill Harry? Why didn't Lily hide? If she did hide, why did he find her? Did someone betray her? What were you doing at the time? And what was James Potter doing? And Severus Snape—wasn't he Lily's friend? What did he do?"
Charles munched on watermelon beside them and thought, If you give me a remote-controlled plane—the same model you gave Dudley this year will do—I can tell you everything from Harry Potter One through Seven, plus Fantastic Beasts.
Dumbledore found that he did not dare meet her eyes. He said heavily, "Petunia, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you too much."
The Petunia Charles had expected—furious and grabbing the watermelon knife from the table to attack someone—never appeared. Instead, she instantly became an ordinary housewife again. She casually said to him, "You have a guest, so I won't disturb you," and left.
As Petunia left, she happened to run into Old Jack returning home.
Before you continue