On the last day of August, a handsome young man wearing glasses was watering the flowers and plants in the garden of 3 Privet Drive.
The sound of a car approaching reached him. Harry raised his head excitedly, only to find that it wasn't Mr. Smith's car. He sighed in disappointment.
"Ah..."
Harry sighed. He was starting school tomorrow, and if Mr. Smith didn't come back soon, who was he supposed to ask for his pay from?
Unlike Dudley, he didn't get pocket money from the Dursleys. If he wanted to make money, he could only help Mr. Smith with jobs like watering flowers, trimming the lawn, and washing the car, as well as helping Charles with his holiday homework.
Mr. Smith was very generous. During the two months of summer vacation, Harry could earn a thousand pounds by tending the garden once every three days and washing the car once every five days.
What Harry found a little regrettable was that Charles had graduated from primary school this year too, so he no longer had holiday homework. Otherwise, it would have been another nice source of income.
But Harry was going to Hogwarts tomorrow, while Charles might attend Eton College or some other secondary school that Dudley wouldn't even dare dream of. Harry wouldn't be able to help him with his holiday homework anymore.
Dudley had once wanted to earn that money, but after he turned the garden into a swamp while watering it, Mr. Smith had driven him away. Harry still remembered that it was the first time Uncle Vernon had ever scolded Dudley.
Harry shut off the tap, tied up the garbage bag full of freshly cut branches, and placed it in the designated spot. Then he went inside, took a bottle of Charles's Happy Water from the refrigerator, and returned to his room—the room at 3 Privet Drive.
He downed the Happy Water in one go, then lay on the bed and belched. A sense of peace filled his heart.
There was a locked metal box beside the bed. All the money he had earned from Mr. Smith and Charles was kept inside it.
The only time Harry had spent any of it was when he and Charles went to a boxing club nearby to train. What he learned was secondary; his main goal was to avoid staying at his aunt's house for so long.
At that moment, he couldn't help wondering whether he should put it in a vault at Gringotts too.
He looked again at the bookshelf in the room. It was filled with books that had been moved over from Charles's bookshelf when it ran out of space, mostly novels like the Sherlock Holmes stories.
It wasn't noon yet. Harry sat around daydreaming for a while before deciding to stay there until evening again before going home.
There was still food in the refrigerator anyway. He could just leave a note telling Mr. Smith to deduct the cost of his meals from his pay.
Still, Harry felt that Mr. Smith wouldn't deduct it.
Harry lay there for a while and began to feel bored, so he simply went next door to the gym, put on his gloves, and started punching the heavy bag.
At that moment, a scene from a month earlier kept replaying in his mind: a perfect uppercut.
The heavy bag thudded continuously as Harry punched it. He had no idea how many times he had repeated the motion, but he always felt that, compared with that punch, he was still missing something important.
Then his stomach began to rumble like Hedwig, forcing him to head downstairs to the kitchen and make himself something to eat.
When Harry hung his gloves on the wall, he saw Charles's gloves beside them, and the corners of his mouth curled upward.
He wondered what Charles would say if he told him about everything that had happened recently. Charles would definitely say he was talking in his sleep.
There were actually still some tomato-sauce meatballs in the refrigerator. Harry happily boiled a large pot of noodles, mixed them with the heated meatballs, and enjoyed a hearty meal.
He had no idea what the meatballs were made of. They tasted like chicken and were satisfyingly crunchy. In the end, he saved two for Hedwig.
After spending a sweat-soaked afternoon in the gym, Harry made himself dinner again, watched a hilarious television program in the living room for a while, and made sure the water and electricity were turned off. After leaving a note, he returned to the pitch-black 4 Privet Drive and fell asleep, dreaming of a wonderful life ahead.
Harry was a little at a loss after what happened at the train station the next day. Fortunately, the red-haired family helped him find Platform 9.
The platform looked chaotic. The sounds of people saying goodbye and pets calling rose and fell around him. Even Hedwig began hooting as if she were challenging the other owls.
Suddenly, Harry heard a familiar voice. "Don't be a coward when you get to Hogwarts. If anyone bullies you and you don't want to fight them yourself, write to me. I'll go deal with their parents."
He recognized Mr. Smith's voice. However, just as he turned around, several tall people happened to walk past and blocked his view. When they moved on, he didn't recognize a single person over there.
Harry shook his head, thinking that he must have been worrying too much about those thousand pounds and had mistaken someone else's voice for Mr. Smith's.
Once the train departed, Harry had a pleasant time. He met his first wizard friend, Ron Weasley, shared lunch with him, and saw chocolate frogs that hopped like real frogs and moving photographs. He ate Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as if he were drawing lottery tickets and met a boy searching for his toad...
"Knock, knock, knock!"
Someone knocked on the compartment door and asked politely, "Excuse me, would you mind opening the door?"
Harry was waiting for Ron to cast a spell on the half-dead old rat with his wand. Hearing the voice, he answered instinctively, "I'm afraid I would!"
Two blinks later, Harry suddenly froze. Then, moving faster than he had ever dodged a punch in the boxing ring, he opened the compartment door. Seeing the handsome young man outside, he cried out in astonishment, "Charles! What are you doing here?!"
"Yo, Harry!" Charles greeted the two people in the compartment with a smile. "You must be Mr. Weasley too. I just met a prefect named Percy Weasley. His hair is the same color as yours."
Ron had heard Harry mention this person with a name like his second brother's—though the Chinese translations were different—and learned that he was the only person Harry could count as a friend. He greeted Charles politely as well.
Charles introduced Crabbe and Goyle behind him, then asked, "Have you seen Neville's toad?"
Harry answered, "No."
Ron added, "He came by to ask us just now."
Neville's face grew even more miserable.
At that moment, Hermione noticed the wand in Ron's hand. Her curiosity about magic overcame her curiosity about Harry, and she asked eagerly, "Oh, are you casting a spell? Can I see?"
As she spoke, she walked into the compartment on her own and sat beside Ron, continuing to ask questions. "What spell are you planning to cast on it? A Transfiguration spell? Or are you going to make it bigger?"
Harry was just as curious about magic as Hermione was. He set aside his questions for Charles and watched Ron too.
Ron looked somewhat flustered. After saying "Oh" twice, he finally said, "All right, watch this."
Charles watched with a smile as Ron recited, "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." Then nothing happened, and the gray rat, Scabbers, remained exactly as he was.
"Are you sure that's a spell?" Hermione asked with a frown. "I've practiced several spells from my textbooks at home, and they all worked..."
After letting her chatter on and on, Charles stroked his chin and said, "Maybe this rat has heatstroke. Why don't you feed him to an owl?"
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