"The first thing," Dumbledore said gently, "is that when Darren t before, he asked 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 ti he t Dumbledore?
Had Darren already sensed what might happen?
…That was possible.
Darren would have said sothing 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 soone 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 ti, 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 co 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 ans that Lily's blood protection will soon fade."
"I hope you will allow him to stay here for one more year after next sumr, so that Lily's magic may last a little longer."
None of the Dursleys spoke.
At last, Dumbledore turned to Harry.
"Co, Harry. Let's go."
"After we visit soone I want you to et, 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 tis 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 sothing 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 bla anyone.
"Have your wand ready, Harry," Dumbledore said lightly.
"But we're not allowed to use magic outside school—"
"Special circumstances," Dumbledore smiled.
"Trust . 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 Occluncy 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 co," 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 soone so shaless.
"Would you like to tidy up?" Dumbledore asked politely.
The old man nodded without embarrassnt.
"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 ? Don't be ridiculous!"
He turned away dismissively.
Dumbledore rely laughed.
"Co, sit down and have so tea."
Harry noticed that Dumbledore positioned him so that the old man would see him the mont 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 !"
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 rlin, 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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