Rescuing Harry

For almost the entire holiday, Oren had been studying the Philosopher's Stone in his hands. The more he studied it, the more terrified he became. The more terrified he became, the more he sweated. The more he sweated, the less he could hold onto the Philosopher's Stone. And when he could not hold onto it, it slipped from his grasp.

In just one holiday, Oren had accidentally turned quite a few things at The Burrow into pure gold, increasing the value of the remote property several hundredfold.

This made things miserable for Mr. Arthur. To keep the house from being crushed by all that pure gold, he had exhausted every trick he knew, using both magic and Muggle construction knowledge. He had finally stabilized the house by adding several rooms to bear the weight.

"Hahaha, I did it! I finally did it! I saw the Philosopher's Stone!"

Mr. Arthur put down the bread in his hand, exchanged a glance with Mrs. Molly, and said, "The boy has finally studied himself mad."

Mrs. Molly said, "Sigh... You contact St Mungo's in a moment. I'll contact Dumbledore."

"Let's do that. Poor child."

Oren thumped down the stairs into the sitting room. "Come on, let me show you something special."

With a wave of both hands, magic surged toward the dining table. Strands of gold appeared across it, and within seconds, the table and all the food on it had turned into pure gold.

The tremendous weight of the gold made the table legs sink more than halfway into the floor.

Everyone: !!!

"Clang, clang, clang." Ron poked the golden butter with his fork, and the sound of metal striking metal rang through the room.

"Um, Oren, can you turn it back?" Ron asked helplessly. He had long since become numb to gold. At least thirty percent of the things in their home had been turned to gold by Oren's accidents.

"Uh... apparently not."

"All right, children, go back upstairs for now. I'll call you down later," Mrs. Molly said, tying her apron back on.

On the way back to their room, Ron said, "Hermione wrote to us. She said she can't get in touch with Harry."

"Oh, is that so? Can you contact him?"

"No. I think you could have Mige give it a try. Maybe it can deliver a letter to him."

"You're right, Ron. It's gotten three whole times fatter over this holiday. It's time to make it move around."

Oren casually turned a plate in the room into pure gold, then used alchemy to make it into a little helmet.

"Go on, Mige." Oren opened the window and released the owl Mige, wearing its golden helmet.

"There could be other reasons Harry can't receive letters. We'd better send another one the Muggle way," Ron said, actually thinking for once.

"I have stamps. Muggle letters seem to need these stuck on them. Dad brought them back. They seem to be some kind of special edition. I hope they work," Ron said, scratching his head.

Oren said, "These look like stamps of successive leaders of the Soviet Union."

"The letter's finished. We just need to stick on the stamps." Ron handed the letter to Oren.

"What is it, Oren? Is something wrong? I remember you just need to put some spit on them to make them stick."

"Damn it, I don't know which side I'm supposed to spit on."

Ron...

"I'll do it. I'm going to send it from the village post office right now."

"Good luck, Ron."

By the time the sky had darkened, Ron finally returned.

"You're finally back. I thought they'd grabbed you and made you a temporary postman," Oren teased.

"Uh... you actually guessed right," Ron said.

"Ron, I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"

"The good news first!"

"Mige brought back Harry's reply."

"How did it manage that?"

Oren pointed at the owl by the bed. "Look at all those shards of glass stuck in its feathers. Getting a reply was beyond the abilities of an ordinary owl."

Ron...

"What about the bad news?"

"The bad news is that we can't understand it. Wait, let me look again. Harry's handwriting looks like a doctor's prescription. It's a bit hard to read."

The two of them studied it for half the day before finally figuring out what Harry was trying to say.

"So Harry's locked in his room, with only one bowl of soup a day?" Ron's voice cracked in shock.

Oren analyzed calmly, "With Harry's personality, he's probably fed all the solid bits in the soup to the owl. He can only fill himself up on water."

"Mr. Arthur came back once. He said Harry broke some rule about not being allowed to use magic outside school."

"No!" Ron tossed down a handful of coins and rushed for the door. "I'm going to rescue Harry!"

Oren held out a helpless hand. He did not even have the strength to complain anymore. Mr. Arthur had said they would go pick Harry up tomorrow.

"Sigh... forget it. Ron probably can't pull off anything too outrageous."

Early the next morning, four people got out in front of the garage. Ron whispered, "We'll sneak upstairs, then come down together at breakfast. When Mum sees Harry, she'll be so happy she'll forget to ask how we brought you back."

"Whoosh!" A large black rat-like figure darted in front of the car.

"Oh my God, Oren! I never thought you'd be here too," Harry said delightedly.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I really never thought a wizarding family would have a car. Does it have any magical abilities?"

"Um, does flying count?" Harry asked.

"Something's not right. Oren, why are you up so early?" Fred asked suspiciously.

"Seriously. At this time, Oren usually just rolls over and keeps sleeping," Ron said.

"It's nothing much. You lot got caught. Mrs. Molly is waiting for you at the door. I got up early to watch the show."

The four of them...

"How did we get found out?!" Ron asked.

"Heh. I was planning to cover for you, but unfortunately, some people started the car so loudly that even the ghoul upstairs woke up. Tell me, my friends, what exactly was I supposed to use to cover for you?"

"Ron! Fred! George! I can hear your voices..." Mrs. Molly approached at high speed, holding a frying pan.

The four stood in a trembling line. Oren took a step back, placing everyone in front of himself, and pulled out a bag of sunflower seeds.

"Percy and Charlie never caused this kind of trouble. Just wait until your father gets back and see how he deals with you!"

Mrs. Molly scolded the three redheads for quite a while, perhaps dozens of minutes. Then she turned to Harry, who backed up two steps in fright and nearly bumped into Oren.

"Welcome, Harry. Come inside," Mrs. Molly said softly.

Oren patted Ron on the shoulder. "Congratulations. Your status at home has dropped again."

Ron...

The group sat in the sitting room, chatting as they listened to Mrs. Molly bustling around in the kitchen.

A little red-haired witch in pajamas rubbed her eyes and said, "Mum, can you find me another pair of socks? The old ones have a huge hole in them."

The little witch opened her sleepy eyes, let out a scream, and ran away.

Harry asked, "What was that about?"

Ron said, "That's my sister Ginny. She really admires you."

Fred said, "You bet she does. She even wanted your autograph."

Oren said, "You know, Harry, saying something like that in front of your idol means she's socially dead now."

They cleared the plates in front of them, and, as expected, the three little redheads were sent off to clear the garden of gnomes.

"Come on, Harry, ignore those guys. I'll show you the room," Oren said, pulling Harry upstairs.

"Wow... are wizarding families all this... luxurious?" Harry flicked the golden stair rail with his finger.

"Uh... more accurately, that was my doing."

"It was the Philosopher's Stone, wasn't it, Oren?"

"That's right." Oren pushed open the door. "This is Ron's and my room. You'll be staying here for the rest of the holiday too."

"Oren, there's a huge pile of letters on the desk."

"They're all from Hermione. Ever since she found out Ron and I were together, the letters she sends have been getting thicker and thicker."

"Every day, it's about what tasty things she ate, all sorts of random nonsense. I think she's treating us like her social feed. Other than asking whether we can contact you, there's nothing useful in them."

Harry: ??? What feed?

"It's about time we sent her a reply," Oren sighed.

He took a piece of parchment, scribbled a few lines, and finished.

"So fast? Did you just write 'read'?" Harry asked.

"Oren, why don't you add a few more words? Tell her I'm staying with you?"

"All right, all right. I added it. I'll have Mige deliver it now."

"No, no, no!" Harry recalled the sight of Mige flying in at low altitude and smashing through the window. "You should let Hedwig go instead."

"Are you sure? I should probably add a line telling Hermione to take good care of it. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Following Harry means starving nine meals out of ten. How tragic..."

Harry...

He went out for a little while, then returned carrying Hedwig's cage.

Hedwig, who had eaten less than an hour ago, pecked Harry several times, protesting against him as a heartless, exploitative boss.

Harry rubbed his head and said, "Oren, take my advice. Unless it's absolutely necessary, don't let Mige deliver letters, okay?"

Oren...

"Oren, how about we go help Ron and the others clear out the gnomes?"

"Sure. I also want to see what keeps disturbing my sleep."

As soon as the two arrived in the garden, they saw Fred and George forcing Ron to do the work by himself.

"Harry, look at that. What a touching display of brotherly affection."

Harry... Here it came. Oren was talking sarcastically again.

"Oren, Harry, are you here to help?" Ron looked at them hopefully.

"I support you spiritually."

Harry rolled up his sleeves, crouched beside Ron, and said, "So these are gnomes? They're really different from what Muggles imagine."

"Oh, come on. I've seen the kind Muggles imagine. They look like tiny Father Christmases," Ron said, tossing a gnome out of the garden.

Oren said, "These are gnomes? Are you sure they aren't potatoes with legs?"

"That's a very fitting description," George said.

"Harry, did anything happen over the holiday?" Ron asked, stopping his work.

Harry began telling them how Dobby had hidden his letters, how it had ruined the dinner Uncle Vernon had prepared, how Harry had received a warning letter after being discovered using magic outside school, and how he had been confined to his room.

"Unfortunately, it couldn't say who was plotting against me." Harry smiled bitterly. "It couldn't reveal who planned it. I suppose that person must be its master."

"It could have been lying to you," Fred said.

"Only wealthy families have house-elves, and they won't use magic without orders," George said.

"Draco Malfoy," Ron said. "It must be him. And his father was You-Know-Who's crony too."

"Could it be telling the truth?" Harry turned to Oren. "Like in first year, does Headmaster Dumbledore know something?"