Garlic, onions, some rosemary, and butter, then wrap the lamb chops in tin foil…
Ding—!!
"Howl, someone is looking for you on Privet Drive," Lucifer reminded him.
Howl nodded, placed the lamb chops on the mantelpiece, instructed Lucifer to watch the heat, and then went to the front door.
First, he glanced at Harry, who was working outside; he didn't know what the boy was thinking, but he had a smile on his face, clearly slacking off.
Bang!
Harry, on his side, stared blankly at the suddenly closed door.
Huh?!
Of course, Howl didn't care what he thought; he twisted the doorknob, turned the exit to Privet Drive, and then opened the door.
A thin, harsh-faced woman stood outside the door, leading the little fat boy from earlier; the little fat boy still had scratches on his face, which was flushed red and tear-streaked, clearly having cried a lot.
Petunia saw the man who opened the door and was first attracted by his face; then all the prepared words vanished under his emotionless eyes.
"Hello, can I help you?" Howl asked.
Petunia took a deep breath, then quickly said, "Sorry, I noticed you brought a child into your house earlier. That's my nephew, and I need to find him."
Just now, after Dudley was inexplicably chased home by cats and dogs, she immediately acutely sensed that such a situation might be related to that thing.
That thing, the thing she didn't want to mention, the thing her family hated to the bone.
That kind of magic, she only knew one person had it.
So, harboring her anger, she immediately came to the door to take Harry back and punish him severely.
Just thinking about how that little bastard had ruined her precious Dudley's handsome face made her furious.
"Oh, so you are Harry's guardian, nice to meet you," Howl said, nodding. Although his words were polite, he had no intention of shaking hands or inviting the two in to sit down.
He continued, "I was just about to look for you, and I'm sorry to tell you that your nephew destroyed a plant I carefully cultivated. We should first discuss the compensation."
"Wh-what?"
"Yes, the flower I planted there. All the neighbors must have seen it. It's very precious, a rare species from the country of Tasker in Africa, and it's also their national flower. It cost me at least tens of thousands of pounds to transplant it here," Howl explained.
"So, I want to talk to you or the man of your house about the compensation," Howl looked down at her, his voice carrying an undeniable magic.
"Tasker… national flower?" Petunia repeated, somewhat disbelievingly.
"Yes, the local area has already prohibited the export of this flower. This might be the only flower of its kind in Britain, and there won't be any more in the future.
The preliminary damage assessment should be around ten thousand pounds. If you don't believe me, we can go through legal procedures."
"What? That's impossible! Our family has to pay for that bastard's mistake, and it's tens of thousands of pounds!!" Petunia suddenly yelled.
"Sir, we refuse to make any compensation. Frankly, he just lives with us; we are not his parents!"
Howl frowned, clearly displeased with such hysterical behavior.
After a while, he reluctantly said, "Alright, alright! Madam, let's try a different method of compensation."
Petunia stared at Howl, her face flushed, waiting for him to continue. At the same time, she looked ready to express her dissatisfaction with a siren-like scream if she couldn't accept the terms.
"You know, I just moved here. Perhaps I need a handyman to run errands for me. How about working to compensate?" Howl said helplessly.
Through Howl's broad shoulders, Petunia could vaguely see the messy state of the house.
"That… of course!" She thought for a moment, then nodded decisively: "This fellow is a good handyman. When it comes to housework, he's definitely far above average."
"At least for over a year," Howl added faintly.
Petunia hesitated for a moment, then nodded: "Of course."
You know, in London in the 1990s, a handyman's monthly salary would definitely not reach a thousand pounds.
"I think a child's own mistakes need to be borne by himself. This will become the most valuable lesson in his life," Petunia quickly changed her expression, stating with a look of relief.
"Alright then," Howl nodded calmly, then said, "But I need to add that a little brat wouldn't jump into my flowerbed and crush my things for no reason. Frankly, if it weren't a child, I would have shot him dead."
This was London in the 1990s, and guns were not prohibited among civilians. Residents had absolute dominion over their territory. Shooting an intruder to death was not a joke.
Howl narrowed his eyes and looked at the little fat boy, Dudley: "Whether it's bullying or a joke, I hope some people understand that outside is not at home, and some rules still need to be followed."
Dudley, who had been a bit indignant and secretly pleased about Harry's misfortune, suddenly felt as if he was being watched by a fierce beast when Howl's gaze fell on him.
He quickly lowered his head, his smile gone; it took all his courage just not to tremble.
"Alright, that's all," Howl said, then closed the door, leaving only his lingering words floating in the air.
"Your nephew will go back by himself at night."
The door closed, and Petunia looked at her precious son. She thought Dudley lowering his head was a sign of his sadness and displeasure, so she hugged him and comforted him, "Oh, darling. Don't be angry, Harry's mistake doesn't need you to bear it; he'll be a handyman for a whole year."
She vaguely knew what had happened. But she didn't want to scold her precious son; he had suffered too much today.
From another perspective, what if he was bullying him?
Was she supposed to scold her own son for the sake of a parasite?
Howl didn't care what the Dursleys were; more than that, he was concerned about whether Lucifer had overcooked the lamb chops.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, 'he's a good handyman'—from that sentence, I already know what kind of life that skinny boy is living in that house."
Lucifer extended his small fiery hand, flipping the lamb chops on the iron rack. Sweet meat juices flowed from the foil seams, which he caught with his mouth, all while marveling at everything he had just heard.
Howl was not surprised by Harry's experience at the Dursley Family; partly due to vague memories from long ago, and partly because—
"You can tell just by looking at Harry's clothes."
Saying that, Howl opened the door to the wilderness again. Harry was standing outside the door, and seeing it open, he breathed a sigh of relief, then quickly said, "Sir, I have already transplanted the Moon Spirit Flower."
Howl glanced at it, confirmed there were no problems, then nodded and let Harry in.
"Get two sets of cutlery from the cupboard," he instructed, still without ceremony.
"Okay," Harry also nodded.
Strange, why am I not resisting at all?
This thought suddenly popped into his little head.
Howl sat back on his exclusive red leather sofa and said, "Your aunt came to see me just now."
Harry's movements froze for a moment, then he asked somewhat dejectedly, "What did she say?"
"I asked her for compensation because you ruined a flower I brought from the country of Tasker in Africa, a unique flower in all of England," Howl's face curved into a faint smile, seemingly very pleased with his own fabrication.
Of course, his words were very "sincere," so he gained Mrs. Dursley's trust; she didn't even consider taking legal action.
"So…" Harry
Oh my, Harry couldn't even imagine what punishment he would face when he returned.
"She certainly wasn't willing," Howl said.
"Yes… that… that's to be expected," Harry's voice was small and lacked enthusiasm.
"So I said, let's change the terms of the deal. And your aunt agreed," Howl said, looking at the plates Harry handed him with both hands: "Are you going to make me eat holding the plate? Put them on the table."
"Really?" Harry's voice suddenly brightened, and he quickly placed the plates on the table, tidied up some clutter, and even pulled over a chair, actively getting to work.
"So, sir, what kind of change did you mean?" Harry asked impatiently.
"Work as a handyman for me for a year."
Howl stood up; he didn't care much about Harry's reaction to this decision. If Harry wasn't willing, he wouldn't mind letting him go and be a wild child.
He nonchalantly picked up the lamb chops from the flame, placed them on an iron tray, then went to the dining room to retrieve the fried eggs and smoked sausage he had prepared earlier. Beside them, there was also a large portion of vegetable salad.
After portioning out the meal, he looked at Harry: "What are you standing around for?"
Harry was a bit slow to react, pointing to himself: "Is… is this for me?"
Howl nodded, explaining, "Although the Castle is large, I live alone."
Harry quickly sat down, looking at the sizzling roasted lamb chops on the plate, with warm fried eggs and sausages beside them.
"Eat, don't worry about manners," Howl said, looking at Harry, who seemed hesitant to pick up his knife and fork.
As soon as he finished speaking, Harry eagerly forked a sausage and put it into his mouth.
"Mmm… so delicious… thank you…"
Harry had never tasted such delicious sausage before; it was chewy and springy, full of juice, and had a meat aroma he had never experienced. It was much better than anything he had eaten before.
"From the day I was born until now, this is definitely the most delicious thing I've ever eaten, I promise!" Harry quickly said, his face beaming with a smile.
"The flavored sausage made with that thing is indeed good," Howl also nodded in approval.
Harry heard this and asked curiously, "What thing?"
"A kind of monster, you wouldn't want to know too much about it," Howl explained casually, then remembered that he hadn't introduced himself to Harry yet.
"My name is Mu En Jones. You can call me sir or uncle," Howl said, slowly cutting the lamb chops.
"Eat more, you'll need strength to work when you're full. You have a lot of work to do," Howl said.
Yes, that was clear. Harry stuffed food into his mouth while looking around the messy environment.
After more than ten minutes, Harry finally felt full. Holding a lamb chop, his mouth greasy, he asked with a hint of apology, "So, Uncle Howl, is that flower really unique in Britain?"
"Of course not, the African national flower thing was all made up by me."
Hearing this, Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and the apology in his heart lessened a bit.
"The Moon Spirit Flower is unique in this world."
"Ah?"
Howl ignored him and instead asked, "It seems you're not against working for me here."
As soon as this topic came up, Harry unconsciously lowered his head again, his voice much softer: "Yes."
"Do you hate them? Or, if you were given powerful magic now, what would you want to do?"
"Leave there!"
Harry's quick and decisive answer caught Howl off guard.
"It seems you don't hate them," Howl nodded.
Harry shook his head, then nodded, remaining silent for a long time.
Howl just watched him quietly, only saying, "Remember to eat some vegetables."
It was then that Harry suddenly spoke with some hesitation:
"I don't know how to say it… I hated Dudley when he bullied me in front of everyone at school, and I hated Vernon when he locked me in the cupboard… In short, there were countless times I hated them to death.
But overall, I don't hate them. After all, without them, I wouldn't even have food to eat, let alone go to school… I'm not their son, and they're not my mom and dad…"
Harry's voice grew softer and softer, until finally his eyes were brimming with tears. He just kept his head down, stuffing food into his mouth, trying his best not to make ridiculous whimpering sounds.
Howl leaned back in his chair, saying nothing.
He had no intention of comforting a crying child. This was a mature and stubborn child, and he didn't want others to see his weakness.
So Howl felt… he should respect his stubbornness.
Howl didn't know how much time had passed, he only knew that after he had reconstructed the advanced human alchemy array exposed in the scattered book "Democritus's Alchemy Notes" on the floor thirty-two times, Harry finally composed himself and looked up.
Aside from his eyes and nose being a bit red, there was nothing unusual.
"Alright, get to work, kid," Howl stood up and stretched, "Your task today is to clean the entire living room."
"It doesn't seem difficult," Harry stood up, full of energy. The living room, which had seemed chaotic to him before, had now been accurately divided into several sections, with a clear cleaning order established.
Howl glanced at the confident Harry, a smile playing on his lips: "I hope so. If you still have time after completing the task, I don't mind letting you play with magic."
Hearing this, Harry was even more motivated. He quickly began to clear the dishes, then looked at the unfinished food.
"Throw it all into the fire," Howl waved his hand.
Harry nodded, gathered the leftovers, walked to the fireplace, and looked at the food again.
"It feels a bit wasteful…" Harry said with some regret.
Suddenly, the fireplace blazed brightly, and a terrifying, hideous face appeared in the flames, along with two completely mismatched slender hands.
"What do you mean, wasteful! Am I, the great lord, not even allowed to eat leftovers?!" Lucifer roared furiously, and the entire Castle echoed with whooshing, steaming sounds.
Harry was terrified, stumbling backward and falling to the ground, staring at Lucifer in horror, then looking at Howl.
Howl showed a peculiar smile on his face, but then said with a regretful tone, "Oh, damn it, I apologize. I forgot to introduce you. Although I live alone, there are still other beings here.
This is Lucifer, a demon, and the guardian of this Castle. If you don't know anything about your work, you can ask him."
So that's how it is…
Harry looked at Lucifer, waved his hand somewhat fearfully, and greeted him.
He shouted in his heart: This place is so interesting!