After the ship arrived in London, United Kingdom, the family did not stay long at a hotel. Altair had already arranged for someone to purchase a property in central London. The address was No. 3, Floors 3–4, Wickham Courtyard, Charing Cross Road—a duplex.
Charing Cross Road. It was another familiar name to Yulian. Even on the way there, he had already spotted the shabby sign hidden between rows of old bookshops and record stores: the leaking cauldron—The Leaky Cauldron.
The family did not actually like living in a busy urban district. They all preferred the tranquility of the Bordeaux countryside—grapevines, oak trees, and wine cellars veiled in morning mist. But this place was undeniably convenient for the family business.
Once they had settled in, Altair busied himself with coordinating Black Vine Winery's distributors in the United Kingdom and preparing for the red wine's entry into the British market. Clara helped manage the household and business while finding time to contact Petunia.
Clara quickly got in touch with her distant cousin, Petunia Dursley, and arranged to visit her two days later.
The two days passed in the blink of an eye. Once all the miscellaneous matters had temporarily been dealt with, Clara took Yulian to Madeleine Patisserie, not far from the record store, and deliberately bought an exquisite box of pastries: cream puffs, raspberry truffle chocolates, and rainbow macarons prepared especially for children. They then drove to Little Whinging in County Surrey.
As the car left central London, the scenery outside the window gradually changed from bustling city streets to the quiet landscape of the suburbs. Little Whinging was indeed a typical Muggle community.
The streets were spotlessly clean. Similar detached houses stood in neat rows on either side, and every household had orderly flowers and plants growing in its yard. Sunlight fell at the same angle across the cream-colored walls.
Everything here was entirely different from the wineries in Bordeaux. Little Whinging was just as the books had described: so tidy it was suffocating. Even the rubbish bins were arranged like soldiers on parade.
Not even a cat would dare run wild here, Yulian thought. No wonder Harry could only make friends with spiders when he was young.
The car stopped in front of a somewhat old-fashioned house. The monotonous cream color of the exterior walls had begun to yellow slightly. The lawn in the yard was trimmed with extreme precision, as though every blade of grass had been measured.
A few unidentifiable plants were scattered across the lawn. Although it was not yet flowering season, the yard had clearly been tended with great care. A small nameplate hung beside the door, engraved with the word "Dursley."
Clara turned off the engine and turned to Yulian. "This is it. Aunt Petunia and Mr. Dursley should live here."
Yulian drew a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, and followed his mother out of the car.
Carrying the box of pastries, Clara stepped forward and pressed the doorbell. Its clear chime rang through the quiet yard.
A moment later, the door opened. A slightly plump, rosy-faced woman appeared in the doorway.
She wore a floral dress, and her hair had been permed into neat waves. Her eyes held the sharpness characteristic of a Muggle housewife.
When Petunia saw Clara standing at the door, clear surprise first appeared on her face. She quickly hid it, however, replacing it with a polite smile.
"Clara?!" Her voice rose, then she lowered it. "Twenty years... You look... You haven't changed much."
Her gaze then swept over Yulian—expensive little suit, silver buttons, polite nod—and she quickly judged him to be from a respectable family worth associating with.
"Petunia, it's been a long time. It really has been so many years." Clara smiled warmly. She moved aside and nudged Yulian forward. "This is my son, Yulian Black. Yulian, say hello to Aunt Petunia."
Yulian raised his head and let his polite gaze rest on Petunia. He gave a slight nod. "Hello, Aunt Petunia." Even as a child, he appeared impeccably well-mannered.
His voice was clear, carrying the gentle warmth unique to a young boy, but his eyes were quietly assessing the activity inside the house.
He could faintly hear the television, a somewhat rough male voice, and... an extremely faint sound, as though someone were walking on tiptoe.
Petunia's gaze lingered on him for several seconds. She seemed to have no reaction to the surname "Black" and gave a slight nod before adopting an enthusiastic tone. "Come in. It's windy outside. Vernon, Clara's here! The one I told you about."
She stepped aside and called into the house.
Yulian followed his mother inside. The living room was simply and ordinarily decorated. The sofa was upholstered in dark fabric, several newspapers and a glass jar full of candy sat on the coffee table, and a Muggle comedy show was playing on the television.
A tall, obese man with a face full of fleshy folds stood up from the sofa. He wore a loose shirt, his belly stretching it taut. He was Petunia's husband, Vernon Dursley.
Vernon's gaze fell on Clara, and a polite smile appeared on his face, though it did not reach his eyes. His eyes studied Clara's woolen shawl. Pure cashmere? How much must that have cost?
"Mrs. Black, it's a pleasure. Petunia's told me about you. Welcome, welcome."
When his gaze swept over Yulian, it held the same scrutinizing look at first.
"Dudley! Dudley! Come down!" Petunia called from the foot of the stairs in the living room. "We have guests. Aunt Clara and your cousin Yulian are here!"
"Thump, thump, thump, thump..." Several heavy footsteps sounded from the staircase.
A smaller Dursley came bouncing down in a way that made the stairs groan in pain.
His pale blond hair resembled faded straw—or a tablecloth his mother had bleached too many times—and clung damply to his extraordinarily large forehead.
The little boy called Dudley had a broad face set with two small, sharp blue eyes. They were narrowed slightly from the effort of coming downstairs, glittering with his usual impatience.
His neck nearly did not exist, making the collar of his black T-shirt, emblazoned with some rock band's logo, pull tight around it.
His expensive, spotless sneakers landed heavily on the steps, radiating an indisputable presence that seemed determined to occupy every inch of space.
When he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, the entire room seemed to shrink.
Like his shrewd parents, his first scrutinizing look also fell on Yulian. Seeing Yulian dressed in an expensive little suit, he instinctively plastered a smile across his face, squeezing his features into a single lump.
"You must be Cousin Yulian. My name's Dudley." As he spoke, he extended his thick arm.
After the guests and hosts had taken their seats, the adults moved on to adult conversation. Once Petunia and Vernon learned that Clara and her husband had come to the United Kingdom to conduct a wine business, they became even more enthusiastic.
Dudley, meanwhile, led Yulian to a corner of the living room.
"So, in last week's match, Arsenal's offside goal was simply proof that the referee was blind..." Dudley waved his chubby arm, and droplets of spittle nearly splashed onto the lemon cake in front of him.
His small eyes remained fixed on Yulian, filled with a rare eagerness to curry favor.
As shrewd as the Dursleys were, the moment they saw the well-dressed, well-spoken Yulian arrive with his unusually refined mother, Clara, they had already reached an unspoken agreement through exchanged glances: this was a relative "worth continuing to associate with."
Dudley immediately picked up on the signal as well. He brought out the only "topics" he possessed, gathered from television and his classmates' bragging, and tried his best to appear like a worldly, respectable boy.
"True, it's highly controversial. But Dudley, I admire their counterattacking strategy more. It's very well organized."
Yulian gave a slight nod, his voice steady as he joined the discussion about football. He then deftly steered the conversation toward boxing, which Dudley was more passionate about. Mentioning the names of several famous boxers immediately made Dudley's eyes shine brighter.
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