Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Harry finally looked up at his aunt's anxious expression. "It's nice here, thank you."

Petunia nodded, but didn't leave immediately. Her gaze swept over the paper Harry was writing, and the words about "the fine grinding techniques of moonstone powder" and "the effect of the duration of moonlight exposure on the efficacy of the medicine" made a complex emotion flash in her eyes—a look that was a mixture of fear, curiosity, and a touch of nostalgia.

"Lily..." Penny suddenly spoke, then stopped abruptly, "I mean, your mother used to like doing these...magic homework assignments too."

Harry put down his quill and looked intently at his aunt. This was the first time Petunia had brought up Lily on her own initiative.

"She gets good grades, doesn't she?" Harry asked softly.

“Always the best.” Penny’s voice was distant. “Every time she came back from vacation, she brought a huge pile of strange books and parchments. Our parents… they were proud, but also worried. They didn’t understand that world, just as I didn’t.”

A brief silence filled the room, with only the continuous sound of the lawnmower outside the window.

“She wrote to me,” Penny said suddenly, her fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of her apron, “when we were at Hogwarts. Describing the castle, the lessons, and her friends. I always pretended not to care, but actually… I read every single one over and over again.”

Harry didn't know how to respond.

He saw the genuine pain in his aunt's eyes, a regret worn down by the years.

"That Mr. Blake," Penny changed the subject, her voice becoming cautious again, "will he... come to see you? During the summer vacation?"

"Sirius said he might come in August," Harry answered truthfully, "but he needs your permission, and he'll do it in a... less conspicuous way."

In fact, Sirius Black hinted in a recent letter that he might need to visit under the guise of a "family friend" to avoid attracting the attention of his neighbors and the intervention of the Ministry of Magic—after all, it would be suspicious if a fugitive from Azkaban who had just been exonerated frequently visited the Muggle community.

Penny's face paled slightly, but she nodded. "As long as he gives advance notice. Vernon... needs time to prepare mentally."

Harry almost burst out laughing. Uncle Vernon's "mental preparation" for the wizarding world was probably equivalent to teaching a troll to ballet.

After Penny left, Harry looked at the paper again but found it difficult to concentrate.

He opened his desk drawer and took out the letters from Sirius and Kane.

Sirius's letters were always full of energy, with messy handwriting but overflowing with enthusiasm.

He described his cleanup work at 12 Grimmauld Place – “You wouldn’t believe how many dark magic items were hidden in that house,” shared his anticipation for the rebuilding of the Order of the Phoenix, and promised to teach Harry some “real, useful magic, not the fancy stuff taught in school.”

Kane's letter, however, was entirely different. It was carefully worded, logically rigorous, and carried the same Slytherin-like elegant distance as Kane himself. But between the lines discussing magical theory, Harry could sense genuine concern. Kane even subtly hinted that if the Dursleys "reverted to their old ways," he had a way to get Harry out of there sooner.

Harry picked up a new piece of parchment and began writing a reply to the two of them.

The letter to Sirius was light and cheerful, sharing some subtle changes in the Dursleys and the respectful distance of the Dudley Society. The letter to Kane, however, focused more on academic discussion—questions about the History of Magic course, expectations for the next semester's courses, and cautious inquiries about Kane's research.

At the end of his letter to Kane, Harry hesitated for a long time before finally writing:

"Sometimes I think how wonderful it would be if we could all choose our own families. But perhaps what matters is not the kind of family we are born into, but the kind of family we find. Thank you for your concern; it means a lot to me."

Looking forward to Quidditch training after school starts – Wood says we're going to defend our Quidditch title this year!

Harry

Harry sealed the two letters and went to the window. Privet Drive was unrealistically quiet in the afternoon sun. There was no Dudley chasing him, no Vernon roaring, no Petunia's cold stare. Only the hum of the lawnmower, the distant laughter of children, and the scent of ink from books in the room.

It was a strange calm, built on threats and compromises, yet still calm. Harry knew this balance was fragile, like glass, beautiful but easily broken. But at least this summer, he could breathe, he could think, he could just be a normal student doing his homework.

The phone rang downstairs, and Harry heard Penny answer it, followed by a low-voiced conversation. A few minutes later, Penny came upstairs with a complicated expression.

“It’s that… Mr. Fletcher,” she said, clearly struggling to recall Mundungus’ full name. “He said he’d be coming next week to ‘check on security’ and asked which day would be convenient for us.”

Harry nodded. "Any day is fine, Aunt. He won't be staying long."

Penny seemed to want to say something, but in the end she just nodded and left the room.

Harry sat back down at his desk and opened *Standard Spells*. He knew this peaceful life was the result of many people's efforts—Sirius's threats against Petunia and Kane, Kane's arrangements, and even Professor Dumbledore's behind-the-scenes maneuvering. He couldn't betray that protection.

Outside the window, an owl swept across the sky, carrying a summer letter from a young wizard into the distance. Harry watched it disappear on the horizon, and for the first time, he truly looked forward to the end of summer vacation.

The London afternoon was hot and humid. Hermione Granger sat at her desk in her bedroom, her forehead pressed against the windowpane, trying to catch a whiff of coolness from the breeze blowing in from outside.

Her room has been turned into a makeshift research station.

The walls were covered with floor plans of Hogwarts Castle and various notes, the desk was piled with advanced reading materials ordered from Flourish and Blotts, and there was even a simple potion-making apparatus on the bedside table—of course, it was just a model for theoretical deduction; real potion making required a magical environment.

"Hermione, darling?" Jane Granger knocked on the door and came in with a glass of lemonade and a plate of cookies. "Still working on it?"

"Almost done, Mom." Hermione sat up straight, took the lemonade and took a big gulp. "I'm comparing descriptions of the Hogwarts cellars from different sources, and there are some inconsistencies that need to be sorted out."

Jane sat down beside her daughter's bed, looking at the charts and notes covering the wall. "Is this really just for 'previewing next semester's courses'?"

Hermione's face flushed slightly. "Mostly. But some... (further reading)."