That night, the Dursley family remained under hypnosis, and Harry's belongings were locked away in the cupboard once more.
But for Harry, who had already learned to pick locks, retrieving his homework wasn't difficult.
With rare peace and quiet, Harry sat in his room writing his History of Magic essay. After thinking for a while, he titled his paper "The Burning of Witches in the Fourteenth Century Was Complete Nonsense."
The pleasant evening quickly passed with Harry's diligent studying.
The next morning, Harry woke to violent knocking on his door.
Vernon, who had slept at the dining table all night, looked somewhat pale. He suspected this was related to Harry, but couldn't remember due to Aiden's hypnosis.
In a foul mood, Vernon took it out on Harry.
"Get up, boy! You're coming with me to pick up Marge," Vernon kicked open the door and demanded without explanation.
"Why should I?" Harry looked at Vernon resentfully.
"Because we need someone to carry things, and you need to hide your 'freak' identity in front of Marge," Vernon bent down, glaring at Harry.
"Oh really? Maybe I'll consider it if you sign this permission form," Harry said with a mischievous smile.
"Don't even think about it," Vernon refused.
"Then maybe I'll let something slip in front of Aunt Marge," Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Fine! But remember, your school is called St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys," Vernon's face turned red as he compromised.
"St... what?" Harry couldn't remember it all at once.
"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. Listen, boy, if you dare show any sign of being a freak in front of Marge, don't expect me to sign anything for you," Vernon threatened.
Vernon grabbed Harry and got in his car.
Due to Britain's miserable weather, it was raining heavily that day.
Harry looked out the car window and noticed a man wearing a newsboy cap and black trench coat watching him from the street. The man held an umbrella, standing under a streetlight, emanating an aura that said, "Don't mess with me."
Harry recognized the style—they were from London's biggest gang, the Peaky Blinders. Dudley had once bragged that his classmates all considered it an honor to join them.
Soon, Vernon drove to the suburbs where Aunt Marge had already prepared all her luggage.
"Oh, Vernon, my baby, you look like you've lost weight," Marge said, patting Vernon's belly and giving him a hug.
Then she turned to look at Harry, her expression suddenly souring.
"Oh, it's you. I really don't know where my brother got such a big heart, not sending you to an orphanage," Marge said, refusing to give Harry a proper look.
"Load Marge's luggage into the car," Vernon tilted his head toward the vehicle.
Throughout the journey, Marge maintained a high-intensity verbal assault on Harry. Harry could only counter by recalling Hermione's broomstick care manual in his mind to distract himself.
Soon Marge noticed his wandering gaze and turned to tell Vernon, "This child has mental problems."
Vernon, focused on driving, didn't respond to Marge, and the car soon fell silent.
That evening, Vernon brought them both back home.
Marge snapped her fingers at Harry, commanding him to carry luggage like a servant. Entering the Dursley house, Dudley was watching TV intently. Marge screamed and rushed to hug and kiss Dudley, slipping him twenty pounds while Petunia cast disgusted looks at Marge's dog.
That evening, the family enjoyed themselves at the dinner table—though "family" might not include Harry.
Marge deliberately made things difficult for Harry in the dining room, making him clean up food scraps that fell on the floor. For the sake of the Hogsmeade permission form, Harry suppressed his anger and played the part of a normal Muggle boy.
"Oh, Petunia, what did this child's father do?" Marge asked deliberately.
"Uh, nothing much. Unemployed vagrant, no job," Petunia replied dismissively.
"Oh, must have been a drunk," Marge glanced at Harry sideways, casually mocking.
"He was not," Harry retorted.
Seeing Harry react, Marge knew her offensive was working.
"Hmm, maybe it wasn't the father's problem, but the mother's. If the bitch has problems, then the puppy will have problems too," Marge gestured with both hands.
"Shut up! Shut up!" Harry was furious.
Seeing Harry in this state, Marge showed a satisfied smile. She pointed her finger at Harry, then discovered her body was beginning to swell.
Unusual magic emanated from Harry, and the surrounding electricity flickered. Sure enough, Marge inflated like a balloon. If Aiden had been there, he would have applauded this display of wandless magic.
Seeing Marge float away, Harry could no longer suppress his inner torment. He ran back to his room, packed his belongings, and prepared to leave the Dursley house forever.
When he came downstairs with his luggage, Vernon grabbed his shoulders. "Bring Marge back!"
"No, she deserved it. And stay away from me," Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Vernon.
"You can't use magic outside school!" Vernon stepped back, still bluffing.
"Really? Shall we test that?" Harry took a small step forward.
"You have nowhere to go," Vernon said stubbornly.
"Anywhere is better than staying here," Harry kicked the door open forcefully and walked into the rain.
In the wind and rain, Harry dragged his luggage down the street, thinking he would be expelled this time. So he planned to go to Gringotts first to withdraw his money, then wander the world.
[Sirius: That's just like me!]
Then the trench coat man he had seen that afternoon walked over and handed Harry an umbrella.
"Thank you," Harry said politely.
"Apart from being a bit handsome, why are you so famous?" the man asked.
"Sorry, what did you say? Are you also a wizard?" Harry asked in confusion.
"No, we're just strangers passing by, but you can call me Tommy Shelby. Perhaps one day, you'll need our help, Mr. Potter."
Tommy handed Harry a business card, turned and left, disappearing into the darkness.
Harry found this person inexplicable, but for the sake of the umbrella, he kept the card.
Then Harry saw a large black dog in the roadside bushes. Harry was startled, fell to the ground, and unconsciously raised his wand.
A horn sounded from the street, and a three-story bus pulled up in front of Harry.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. I'm Stan Shunpike, the conductor."
The young man with a thick Cockney accent introduced himself, then helped Harry carry his luggage onto the bus.
"Eleven Sickles, but for thirteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toothbrush in the color of your choice," Stan explained.
Harry pulled out thirteen Sickles and handed them to Stan.
"I want to go to the Leaky Cauldron, in London, and I'll have the hot chocolate," Harry said.
Stan knocked on the glass and called to the driver, "Ern, did you hear that? The Leaky Cauldron, in London!"
Driver Ernie pulled the lever, and the bus began speeding through the night.
Stan handed Harry hot chocolate and started chatting with him.
"What's your name? Where are you from? What are you going to the Leaky Cauldron for? Do you have friends there? Are you still at Hogwarts?"
Stunned by this series of census-like questions, Harry gave a false name.
"I'm Neville Longbottom."
"Oh, Longbottom, sounds like an old wizarding family. Don't know why they'd let a young wizard like you wander the streets."
Saying this, Stan spread out his newspaper and continued reading where he'd left off.
Harry stared at the Daily Prophet's headline, which read "SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES."
"Who's that?" Harry asked.
Stan looked up, noticing Harry was looking at his newspaper. He leaned closer to Harry and said, "That's Sirius Black. He's a murderer."
Soon the Knight Bus arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, where the owner, Tom, had been waiting for some time.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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