Chapter 638 – Visit Slughorn!!
"The first thing," Dumbledore said gently, "is that when Darren met me before, he asked me to look after Lezi. He was worried that no one would take proper care of it."
The cup in Harry's hand trembled slightly.
Was that what Darren had said the last time he met Dumbledore?
Had Darren already sensed what might happen?
…That was possible.
Darren would have said something like that.
Harry's vision blurred. He nodded.
Then he said hoarsely, "Lezi won't eat. I keep changing the cat food, but it won't touch it. And when I wake up, it hasn't slept either…"
"Don't worry," Dumbledore said, patting his shoulder.
"We'll take good care of it."
"The second thing," Dumbledore continued, "is that Darren's vault key will need to be kept by you for now."
He took out a small golden key.
Harry's fingers trembled as he accepted it.
He didn't speak. He didn't ask anything.
He stared instead at the glasses in front of the Dursleys, watching them clink softly against one another—as if they would never stop unless someone picked them up.
"And finally," Dumbledore said calmly,
"Sixteen years ago, I left Harry on your doorstep."
"I asked you to raise him as your own."
"But what he received here was nothing but neglect and abuse."
"You never showed him even a trace of affection. You were as cold as the orphanage Darren once lived in."
For the first time, anger showed clearly on Dumbledore's face.
The Dursleys trembled.
But Dumbledore did not pursue it further.
"No matter what," he said quietly,
"Harry will come of age next year."
"No—he's younger than Dudley! He's not an adult yet!" Aunt Petunia blurted out.
Dumbledore shook his head.
"In the wizarding world, adulthood begins at seventeen."
"That also means that Lily's blood protection will soon fade."
"I hope you will allow him to stay here for one more year after next summer, so that Lily's magic may last a little longer."
None of the Dursleys spoke.
At last, Dumbledore turned to Harry.
"Come, Harry. Let's go."
"After we visit someone I want you to meet, I'll take you to the Burrow."
He waved his wand.
Everything in the Dursleys' house returned to its original state.
Harry rushed upstairs and gathered his belongings—including all of Lezi's cat food.
Before Dumbledore had written to him, Harry had imagined many times what it would be like to travel with him.
But now that he actually stood beside Dumbledore, he felt uncomfortable.
Inevitably, he thought—
Darren's fate had something to do with the old man walking beside him.
If Dumbledore had realized Darren's condition earlier… would everything have turned out differently?
But Harry also knew.
He was the least qualified to blame anyone.
"Have your wand ready, Harry," Dumbledore said lightly.
"But we're not allowed to use magic outside school—"
"Special circumstances," Dumbledore smiled.
"Trust me. If you're in danger, you may use magic."
They reached the intersection of Privet Drive.
"Take my hand," Dumbledore said.
Harry obeyed.
After the familiar, unpleasant sensation of Apparition, his feet touched solid ground again.
They began walking.
Suddenly, Dumbledore asked, "Harry—does your scar still hurt?"
Harry froze briefly, then shook his head.
"No."
"That's good," Dumbledore said quietly.
"I suspected as much. Voldemort has finally realized that sharing emotions with you is dangerous for him."
"He has begun using Occlumency against you."
"That's… good," Harry said with a weak smile.
What difference did it make?
It didn't change anything.
Darren was gone.
They passed a phone booth. Then a church.
The clock struck midnight.
They hurried past several houses before stopping in front of one with a small garden.
"My goodness," Dumbledore murmured.
The front door had been blasted off its hinges and lay crooked on the ground.
Inside looked as though it had been ransacked.
Harry's heart sank.
"Harry, take out your wand," Dumbledore said.
He entered first. Harry followed closely.
The interior was in complete disarray.
A grandfather clock lay smashed on the floor.
Red, sticky stains—clearly dragon blood—splattered the walls.
"Was he… dragged away?" Harry whispered.
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes.
He walked to a large armchair and jabbed it sharply with his wand.
"…Good evening, Horace."
The chair squealed.
A bald, portly old man appeared, clutching his stomach and glaring indignantly.
"You didn't have to be so rough!" he protested.
He stood up, nearly reaching Dumbledore's chin.
"I hid myself perfectly! How did you see through it?"
"If the Death Eaters had truly come," Dumbledore replied calmly,
"there would be a Dark Mark above the house."
The old man slapped his forehead.
"The Dark Mark… ah, that's right! You arrived too fast! I'd only just adjusted the chair!"
Harry had never seen someone so shameless.
"Would you like me to tidy up?" Dumbledore asked politely.
The old man nodded without embarrassment.
"That would be appreciated, Albus."
After the dragon blood was cleaned away, the old man finally noticed Harry.
His gaze fixed on the lightning-shaped scar.
"You—are you Harry Potter?!"
"You think that bringing him will persuade me? Don't be ridiculous!"
He turned away dismissively.
Dumbledore merely laughed.
"Come, sit down and have some tea."
Harry noticed that Dumbledore positioned him so that the old man would see him the moment he looked up.
Sure enough, after the first sip—
The old man froze.
"What exactly are you trying to do, Dumbledore?" he said irritably.
"I'm old, I'm useless—using Harry Potter won't convince me!"
Dumbledore smiled softly.
"Don't forget," he said,
"Harry also has a younger brother."
"He's currently at St. Mungo's. I expect he'll be discharged by the start of term."
"The youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class."
"The creator of the Squib-to-Wizard Transformation Potion."
"My goodness… I can't even imagine what contributions that child will make in the future."
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