Days at Hogwarts

Chapter 2 Grandpa Bates who lives in the mountains

This is a picturesque town nestled at the foot of mountains. The peaks rise majestically, the valleys are tranquil and serene, and a path winds its way up the mountainside from the back of the town. The verdant fields gradually fill the view, and countless unnamed wildflowers make breathing easier. The air is filled with the sweet fragrance of flowers wafting from the fertile pastures, a truly invigorating experience.

Deacon Thorne, holding Loren's hand in one hand and carrying the package in the other, said, "Your grandfather, Mr. Bates, lives on a ranch in the mountains. He raises a flock of sheep with the townspeople and also grows some wheat. You can live a comfortable life."

Loren nodded, lowered his head, and gasped for breath. He was wearing two layers of blouses and thick, heavy spiked boots. These were valuable items he had brought from the orphanage; Sister Joyce had insisted that he take them.

The scorching sun turned his cheeks bright red, and Loren climbed the mountain, panting heavily, feeling extremely dizzy.

Several years have passed since he transmigrated here, but this body is too small, and his underdeveloped body and brain cannot support him to do too many things.

1980s Britain was far from kind to an orphaned child. The streets were teeming with drug dealers, thieves, unemployed youth, and skinheads. The child couldn't afford even the slightest mishap; he was no different from a five-year-old, all his ambitions thwarted.

The townspeople watched the two walk up the mountain, their expressions turning somewhat fearful, and they began to whisper amongst themselves. But the two paid no attention.

After getting away from the crowds, Loren was in unbearable heat.

He pulled his hand away from Deacon Thorne's grasp, tore off his blouse, leaving only his undergarment, took off his spiked boots, wrapped them inside the blouse, held them in his hands, and stomped around barefoot a few times. There were smooth stones on the road, so he felt perfectly fine.

"Let's go, Mr. Thorne, I can keep up." Loren suddenly became cheerful.

Thorne smiled and walked forward, pulling Loren along when they encountered steep slopes.

After about an hour, they finally arrived at the mountain pasture. Three small thatched huts were built on a high ground by the roadside. The huts were exposed to the wind on all sides, but bathed in the bright sunshine, offering a panoramic view of the scenery below.

On the side of the thatched hut was a long bench roughly nailed together from wooden planks. At this moment, an old man sat on it, a pipe in his mouth, watching the two people who were gradually approaching. He had a long beard and gray eyebrows, and the wrinkles on his forehead were deeply etched.

Deacon Thorne stepped forward, extended his hand, and said, "Hello, Mr. Bates, I am Thorne."

"Hello, sir," the old man replied gruffly as he shook hands, sizing up the two of them. Looking at the tiny child in front of him, whose fine eyelashes cast shadows on his sky-blue eyes, the sunlight made his heart soften.

Loren sensed that the old man was paying more attention to him, so he took the opportunity to speak up: "Hello, Grandpa."

He just wants to live a peaceful life until he can be independent; he doesn't care much about anything else.

Thorne then told Loren to take the package and rest aside while he talked to Mr. Bates.

Loren placed the package on the rack next to the cabin and looked around. The sun was shining brightly, and the grass and trees were fragrant; it was truly a beautiful scene.

Shortly after, Deacon Thorne came down the mountain, and it seemed that the handover had been completed.

"Come in, you'll need to tidy up a bit before you stay here," the old man called out from the doorway.

Loren ran into the house. The hut had only one room. In the back of the room was a small bed, next to which was a table and a few chairs. There was a closet against the wall, and in the corner was a stove with a large pot on it. On the other side, a ladder made of wood stretched out to the attic.

The old man stuffed the bundle and smock into the closet, and then laid out a coarse cloth sheet in the attic, stuffing some cotton wadding into the coarse cloth quilt. Such a bed would be sufficient for summer.

"I'll make you some more wood later, just make do with this for now."

Evening, at the wooden dining table in the ranch cabin.

Wheat is cooked in goat's milk, and the aroma of wheat and milk blend together. Take a bite of smoked mutton, and the salty and savory flavor spreads in your mouth. Take a sip of goat's milk, and the slightly fishy taste becomes even less. There is also a plate of unidentified wild berries, some sour and some sweet. Loren imitates the old man and grabs a handful and throws them into his mouth. They are sweet and sour.

Compared to mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, potato chunks, and potatoes in every way, this is simply heaven.

After finishing his meal, Loren wanted to clear the table.

"Kid, just live here. We'll talk about some things when you're older." Bates stopped him and took the dishes outside to the sink to wash them.

"Okay, Grandpa." Loren felt that this environment was more comfortable, even in the countryside.

At night, Loren slept in the attic. He could smell the grass of the wilderness. He felt as if he were riding the wind through valleys, skimming over streams, in trees, in clouds, and on cliff edges. His head was no longer dizzy.

……

When Loren woke up in the morning, sunlight streamed into the attic, and he could hardly remember where he was. The old man was going to build a bed frame out of wood in the attic, and also tidy up some odds and ends before letting Loren go up the mountain with the shepherd.

During the day, Pete, the shepherd from down the mountain, would drive the sheep from the townspeople up to the mountain pasture to graze and drink, along with the few sheep belonging to the Bates family.

The shepherd was only a ten-year-old child, and he was very annoyed by having to keep company with this flock of stupid goats all by himself.

Upon hearing that he would be taking Loren up the mountain, Pete eagerly accepted the task.

After navigating the winding mountain path, they let the sheep graze on the hillside. Pete took Loren out for a day of fun, rolling around on the soft grass, watching eagles slam rabbits onto rocks, and picking up brightly colored berries.

Loren was equally captivated by the wild beauty of the mountains. During the years he spent in the orphanage, he had never felt so free and unrestrained, without having to worry about any safety issues.

At dusk, Pete used a whip to drive the goats down the mountain, while Bates, holding salt, led his family's goats into the pen.

When Pete arrived at the town at the foot of the mountain, he used his whistle to gather the children from each family and lead them back to their sheep. Life in the mountains revealed poverty and primitiveness, but it also exuded comfort and nature.

Loren settled down there and gradually began to associate with the townspeople. They always looked at him with a strange pity, as if Loren was experiencing some great tragedy. But when Bates appeared, they became fearful and dared not approach him with respect.

He had also asked Pete, who told him that there were all sorts of messy rumors circulating in the village. Some said Mr. Bates had killed someone, made a deal with the devil, and would bring bad luck—nothing to believe.

Bates always went into the mountains alone on the full moon of each month, and returned the next morning pale-faced. He would not do any physical work for several days in a row and seemed to have become weak.

When Loren asked, Bates always said that after checking on the fruit trees in the mountains, he would take a few days off to relax his old bones. But he never took Loren with him into the mountains.

(End of this chapter)