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Chapter 637 – This Is Good!!
Besides that, Harry also had another newspaper at hand.
The headline read:
Rufus Scrimgeour Succeeds Fudge
Scrimgeour's photograph took up most of the front page.
In it, he looked solemn as he faced the public.
That lion-like expression immediately gave people a sense of security.
Rufus Scrimgeour succeeds Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic.
Former Director of the Auror Office.
According to rumors—
Scrimgeour had a strained relationship with Albus Dumbledore, the newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.
A spokesperson stated that Scrimgeour had already exchanged letters with Dumbledore…
Next to the newspaper lay a magazine titled "The Ministry of Magic Protects Student Safety."
Most of its content was blocked by Hedwig, who was perched nearby, grooming herself inside her cage.
From time to time, she made impatient clicking sounds, but Harry didn't hear them at all.
In the middle of the room stood a trunk.
Inside were several neatly folded sets of clothes, as if their owner had intended to pack but never finished.
A little farther from the trunk lay several apple cores, crumpled candy wrappers, and scattered owl feathers.
In the corner of the room, a kitten lay stiffly against the wall.
In front of it sat a small porcelain food bowl, still filled with cat food.
Beside it was a paper cup of water.
On the bed was a makeshift cat nest made from a soft blanket—but it was clear the kitten hadn't slept there in a long time.
Next to the nest lay a sheet of parchment, spread flat.
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Dear Harry,
If you wish, I will come to pick you up at eleven o'clock on Friday night and take you to the Burrow. The Weasleys would like you to stay for a while.
Sirius Black may also stay there if he wishes; they have built a small house for him.
I have a matter to attend to on the way and would appreciate your assistance.
If you agree, please reply with this owl.
With affection,
Albus Dumbledore
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Harry had already memorized the letter.
He wanted to go to the Burrow.
The Dursleys kept bringing up Darren, and he could no longer invent excuses about Darren being hospitalized without eventually slipping up.
For over a month now, every day had been torment.
And he still couldn't tell the Dursleys the truth—that Darren had fallen beyond the veil.
That he would never come back.
No more letters.
No more gifts.
Dumbledore's letter saved him.
He sent back the most definite reply.
He packed everything—except Darren's things.
Those he packed away, then unpacked again.
Somehow, he kept thinking that if Darren came back, shouldn't Darren be the one to tidy them up himself?
He knew it was unrealistic.
But this was the only way he could cope.
Finally.
The clock ticked closer to eleven.
The alarm Harry had set rang sharply, and he jumped to his feet.
Hedwig gave an annoyed hoot.
Harry glanced at the kitten in the corner and noticed that almost none of the food in its bowl was gone.
His expression darkened.
"Lez… eat a little, alright?"
"Darren… I'm leaving. I can't let you starve too."
"Please… eat something."
Harry gently pushed a few kibbles into Lez's mouth.
The kitten barely resisted.
If Harry fed it, it would eat—but it had lost all liveliness.
It crouched there blankly, as if waiting for death.
Harry choked as he fed it.
"Please… how are you supposed to cheer up like this?"
"Darren wouldn't want this…"
The kitten didn't move.
It simply returned to its original spot.
Harry suddenly felt that it looked like a cat that had lost its home.
His eyes reddened.
At that moment, the clock finally struck eleven.
A tall, thin figure appeared outside the window, slowly approaching.
Harry hurried to pack Darren's trunk.
He couldn't leave Darren's things in the Dursleys' house—they would throw them away.
That was all he had left.
Then he picked up Lez.
He had to take the kitten with him.
Otherwise, Lez would die here.
Just as he lifted the kitten, the doorbell rang downstairs.
Uncle Vernon's voice followed:
"Who is it?! At this hour!"
Harry froze.
He rushed out, suddenly remembering—he hadn't told the Dursleys.
As he opened the bedroom door, he heard Dumbledore's voice downstairs.
"Good evening! You must be Mr. Dursley. I believe Harry mentioned that I would be picking him up tonight."
Uncle Vernon's face flushed red.
Harry knew that look—Vernon was on the verge of exploding.
But Dumbledore paid no attention.
Smiling, he said,
"Judging by your surprise, Harry didn't tell you after all. That's something he should be criticized for—Darren would certainly have remembered."
Harry's footsteps slowed.
The excitement from moments earlier drained away.
Once again, Darren's name was mentioned casually—
as if he hadn't fallen beyond the veil,
as if he were simply away recovering.
"Good evening, Headmaster Dumbledore,"
Harry said softly.
"Good, good—very good!"
Dumbledore smiled warmly and beckoned him closer.
"Don't look so stiff. Smile a little. I'll be visiting for a while."
"Petunia, it's a pleasure to meet you. We've exchanged letters, after all."
"And this must be your son? He's grown quite tall."
Dumbledore sat down on the Dursleys' sofa.
Judging by Vernon's expression, he clearly didn't approve—but he also seemed to realize that the old wizard was not someone to provoke.
He stayed silent.
"Very good, very good."
Dumbledore waved his wand.
Another sofa appeared.
He gestured for the Dursleys to sit.
With another flick of his wand, a bottle of wine and five glasses appeared.
The wine poured itself.
Dumbledore lifted a glass.
"Madam Rosmerta's wine is excellent."
Harry lifted his glass as well.
He drank it down in one gulp, as if trying to drown the pain.
"Slowly, Harry," Dumbledore said gently.
"If you get drunk, you won't be able to help me tonight."
"And besides—I have a few things to announce."
Dumbledore smiled as he spoke.
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