The summer holidays flew by, and Edward knocked out all his homework in just a week. Homework wasn't his main focus, though. He needed to keep practicing his Knight's Breathing Technique to level up.
More importantly, he had to crack the riddle left by that cryptic old wizard, Merlin.
"Courage and sacrifice are the keys to the third tier."
If that line really referred to the knightly virtues of courage and sacrifice, Edward knew he'd already unlocked the blessing of courage. But sacrifice? How was he supposed to activate that?
Unlike humility, compassion, or sincerity—virtues you could cultivate in everyday life—sacrifice wasn't something you could just stumble into. There weren't exactly opportunities to sacrifice yourself left and right.
Edward had thought maybe tackling Quirrell and diving into the Mirror of Erised counted as sacrifice. But looking back, while it might've been a sacrifice, it clearly wasn't enough to trigger the blessing.
Oh well. Keep practicing, he figured. Opportunities come to those who are ready.
Maybe one day he'd stumble into the chance to make a real sacrifice.
But something else was nagging at him lately: Harry hadn't replied to a single one of his letters.
Starting the second week of the holidays, Edward had been firing off letters to his classmates. Writing was a breeze with his Auto-Writing Quill—faster than typing on a computer or phone in his past life. All he had to do was think about what he wanted to say, and the quill scribbled it down in a flash. If he needed to edit, a quick swipe with his Anti-Mistake Eraser fixed it.
He'd sent letters to Daphne, Malfoy, Pansy, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, along with some new snacks he'd discovered. Everyone had written back—except Harry.
Edward was familiar with Harry's owl, Hedwig, a snowy beauty. But among the flurry of owls delivering replies, Hedwig was nowhere to be seen. Pansy's owl, on the other hand, showed up the most.
"Bad news, everyone," Pansy wrote in one letter. "Our island getaway is canceled. Some giant Occamy showed up and practically took over the whole place! The Ministry's trying to sort it out, but it looks like we won't be going anytime soon. Total letdown!"
Edward replied, "Since the trip's off, we'll have to make other plans. I've got an idea. Harry hasn't answered any of my letters, but I know where he lives. I'm going to check on him the day after tomorrow at 11 a.m. If you're up for it, meet me at the Leaky Cauldron."
With no group outing, visiting Harry seemed like a solid backup plan.
Students weren't allowed to use magic outside school, so what if Harry's aunt and uncle had locked him up or something?
Edward remembered glimpsing Harry's relatives at King's Cross Station. From a distance that would've been too far for most people, Edward's focused perception had caught every detail. Harry's uncle was a hulking, neckless man, his small eyes (maybe just dwarfed by his chubby face) radiating meanness. His aunt was the opposite—rail-thin, with a neck so long it could've belonged to a turkey.
Neither looked particularly friendly.
Edward had shared his plan with Daphne, Malfoy, and Pansy, though he didn't expect them to actually show up. Slytherins and Gryffindors—especially Harry and Malfoy—might not be enemies anymore, but they were still rivals. It wouldn't be surprising if they passed on the trip.
He'd also tipped off Ron and Hermione, Harry's best mates, to let them know he'd check on their friend.
The next morning, Edward told his parents he was heading out, threw on a T-shirt and jeans, and stepped into the fireplace. With a whoosh, he emerged in the dim hall of the Leaky Cauldron.
To his surprise, three figures were already lounging at a table, looking bored.
"Good afternoon, Edward. You're twenty seconds late," Daphne said, tapping her pocket watch. She wore a pale green dress and dainty leather shoes.
"This butterbeer gets worse every time! They're definitely watering it down!" Malfoy was loudly complaining to Tom, the innkeeper. His shirt had a coiled python embroidered on the back, looking oddly out of place for his age.
"Hey, Edward! Surprised?" Pansy waved, her outfit similar to Daphne's, though her socks were black to Daphne's white.
Edward was genuinely shocked.
"Sorry I'm late—twenty seconds, wow," he said, glancing at a mildly annoyed Daphne. "How long have you three been waiting?"
"Not long. A minute, maybe," Malfoy said, sauntering back from the bar. "Gotta say, the great Harry Potter's house? I'm curious, aren't you, Pansy?" His tone dripped with mockery.
Edward knew Malfoy was probably itching to poke fun at Harry's modest muggle home compared to his own posh estate. But he let it slide. For someone like Draco Malfoy, visiting a muggle house to check on Harry was already a big step down.
As for Daphne and Pansy, Edward figured they were just bored at home. With the island trip canceled, they were probably up for anything as long as it meant hanging out with friends. Plus, there was likely a hint of curiosity about the muggle world.
Pureblood kids were often told muggles were foolish or inferior, which only made them more intrigued. Let's see just how silly these muggles really are. At least at their age, that's how it worked. Things might change when they got older.
"So, even if we know the address, how do we get there?" Pansy asked. "A muggle house isn't hooked up to the Floo Network, is it?"
"No way I'm taking some muggle tube or whatever," Malfoy scoffed.
Funny, Draco—saying "tube" proves you know more about the muggle world than you let on, Edward thought, suppressing a grin.
"The tube's too much hassle. We'd need tickets. There's another way. Come on, let's head outside," Edward said.
He paid for their butterbeers as a thank-you for joining him, then pushed open the Leaky Cauldron's door, stepping into the sunlit street.
The Leaky Cauldron sat on Charing Cross Road in central London, not far from Trafalgar Square. The area was well-connected, with the tube network all around. But Edward had no intention of taking the Underground. He pulled out his wand and gave it a quick wave by the roadside.
Daphne, Pansy, and Malfoy exchanged confused looks, wondering what he was up to.
Then they noticed something odd.
A garish purple triple-decker bus came roaring down Charing Cross Road, weaving through pedestrians and cars with reckless abandon. It swerved in bizarre angles, nearly grazing people's heads, making Pansy yelp in alarm.
But somehow, the bus screeched to a smooth stop right in front of the four young wizards. The door swung open with a clunk, and a few queasy-looking witches and wizards stumbled off, rushing into the Leaky Cauldron.
A conductor in a purple uniform hopped down and gave a theatrical bow. "Hey there, folks! Welcome to the Knight Bus!" He looked about eighteen, with large ears and a few pimples dotting his face. "I'm your conductor, Stan Shunpike."
"We're riding this thing? Is it even safe?" Malfoy asked, his face paling. The bus's wild approach and the green expressions of the departing passengers had clearly spooked him.
"Absolutely safe, totally comfy. No need to worry! We'll get you anywhere in the UK—well, within reason, right, Ern?" Stan called back cheerfully.
"Course! Hop on, young'uns. We ain't got all day!" The driver, an elderly wizard with thick glasses that made you question his vision, waved them aboard.
"I've ridden it before. It's quick, I promise," Edward said.
Daphne, Pansy, and Malfoy didn't look entirely convinced, but they didn't have a better option. The four climbed aboard.
The bus was empty, its interior far larger than it appeared from the outside, lined with brass-posted beds. It was clearly enchanted with an Extension Charm, roomier even than the Hogwarts Express.
"Where to?" Stan asked as the door slammed shut with a bang.
"Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging," Edward replied.
"Right-o! That'll be eleven Sickles each. Fourteen gets you a chocolate, fifteen gets a hot water bottle and a toothbrush—your pick of colors."
"I don't think we need hot water bottles or toothbrushes in broad daylight," Daphne said coolly, handing over three Galleons and five Sickles.
"Chocolate, though?" she added, clearly interested.
Stan grinned awkwardly, fishing four Chocolate Frogs from his tiny ticket pouch and passing them to the group. After seeing the state of the last passengers, though, no one dared eat anything.
"All right, here we go! Next stop, Privet Drive, Number 4!" Stan bellowed.
With a thunderous BANG, the bus lurched forward. Except for Edward, who was braced for it, the other three tumbled backward onto the beds.
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