I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 469 The Dursleys

The doorbell rang.

Vernon, his face contorted with disgust and fear, slowly walked to the door. As he opened it, a deep, gentle voice rang out, "Good afternoon. You must be Mr. Dursley. I'm sure Harry told you I was coming to pick him up, didn't he?"

"Yes, the boy did tell me that it was just a few hours ago, it was all in a rush," Uncle Vernon said, frowning as he noticed the five little magicians following behind the old wizard.

He thought it was just one person.

Now—with such a large number of people—it's bound to arouse speculation among the neighbors.

"You should have notified us a few days in advance so we could have prepared, instead of... a surprise visit!"

"Oh—I think I sent Harry a letter at least four days ago," Dumbledore said kindly. "But that doesn't matter; a surprise visit can bring a delightful surprise."

"Surprise?" Vernon's face showed no surprise whatsoever; if there was any, it was definitely shock.

"We can assume you've already invited me into your home. Given the current turbulent situation, lingering at the door for too long would be unwise."

Having said that, Dumbledore went straight inside.

Irving followed behind.

To be honest, this was his first time entering this house.

Although I had observed them from a distance before, I had never come inside.

The room layout is basically the same as the scene in the movie.

The only people I don't understand are Vernon and Penny!

Real people are more annoying than actors; the way they look at themselves and the other young wizards is very unpleasant.

And Harry's cousin, Dudley, who was so fat he was practically indistinguishable from a pig except for his two legs, was even more infuriating.

Of the five young wizards, Coratell, Ginny, and Hermione are all great beauties.

His appearance, coupled with the mysterious aura he possesses as a wizard, further enhanced his charm.

The girls are incredibly charming.

Of course—though Irving is reluctant to admit it—he might be more attractive than the other three.

"What are you looking at, you pighead!" Ron stood in front of Koyatl, staring at Dali with a dangerous look.

He doesn't tolerate this guy.

As Harry's best friend who spends every day with him.

He knew all too well how Harry felt about this family.

If Harry had a good or even decent relationship with the Dursleys, he would always give them some face.

"I didn't see it." Perhaps she was afraid of being punished by Harry during the summer vacation.

Dali, who used to be fearless and led his cronies in all sorts of mischief on the streets, now hid back in fear.

He hid behind Penny.

Although he was already half a head taller than his mother at this time, he still looked like an eleven-year-old child.

Those same eyes kept glancing back and forth at Irving.

There's no way around it—with his long silver hair, green eyes, fair skin, and that face, he's practically unique in the Muggle world, and even in the magical world, only a pure-blooded Veela could rival him.

"Tsk—" Owen raised an eyebrow, but did nothing under Dumbledore's benevolent gaze.

"You tolerated all of this?" Ron walked up to him.

"I'm used to it," Irving said with a shrug. "I can't gouge the eyes out of everyone who sees me!"

"Ahem—" Dumbledore withdrew his gaze. His eyes moved from his hooked nose to Uncle Vernon's, then to the potted plant behind him. "It's been a long time since I last visited. I must admit, your agapanthus is blooming beautifully; it has been well cared for."

Vernon Dursley remained silent; he too was astonished by the beauty of the young girls, especially the silver-haired one.

But as an adult, he knew that the more beautiful something was, the more dangerous it was, especially when the other party was a wizard.

Moreover, something about Dumbledore seemed to make him feel breathless for a moment. Perhaps it was the striking wizarding aura that Dumbledore exuded, or perhaps it was simply because even Uncle Vernon could sense that he found it difficult to swagger in front of this man.

"Ah, good evening, Harry," Dumbledore said, looking at Harry from behind his half-moon spectacles with a very pleased expression. "It's so good to see you, so good."

These words seemed to awaken Uncle Vernon, who let out a heavy groan.

Then he turned and gestured to his wife, and took his son and left the living room first.

"Hey—Harry, how's summer vacation?" Owen waved, and Harry's suitcase immediately shrank and fell into his pocket.

"It's definitely not as exciting as yours." Harry was excited, but also a little listless, especially when he realized that his friends all had their own free time, which made him feel even more lonely.

"Me? Well, I'm just average. I just wandered around outside, and nothing even happened."

"Really?" Harry was clearly unconvinced. He moved closer and said, "By the way, maybe it's just my imagination, but have you become even more beautiful?"

"To be honest, you're starting to suspect that you've actually been dressing as a man all these years."

"Heh—" Owen's lips twitched slightly. As he continued to recycle the fragments of Outer God's essence, both his soul and body were becoming more and more like the Outer God. This was irreversible, and he couldn't change anything.

Unless he is willing to wear the illusion spell all the time.

and--

Honestly, it feels much better to have a pretty face than an ordinary one.

As long as his little brother is still there and his chest remains flat, he doesn't care whether it's become more beautiful.

"Right—you think so too, right!" Ron breathed a sigh of relief and shouted from the side. He was afraid that Irving would beat him up, so he didn't dare to say it.

"Indeed." Ginny nodded. Then her gaze turned somewhat unfriendly.

His eyes kept darting back and forth between Owen and Harry.

From the moment he entered, Harry kept staring at Owen, except for looking at Dumbledore.

This gave Ginny a strange sense of fear.

She stepped forward and extended her hand to Irving.

Then, under Owen's questioning gaze, Hermione took Harry's suitcase directly from the boy's pocket and gave it to Ginny.

"."

Hermione glared at Owen.

The other party responded with an innocent look.

What the hell?

That's how it's always been.

I've just gotten used to it.

Oh—he just forgot that everyone around him has grown up.

Ginny rushed forward and grabbed Harry's arm.

Last semester, there were far fewer male witches coming to criticize the sirens by the Black Lake in the summer.

This is not a leap forward in the moral standards of young wizards.

Moreover, there was a new person in the castle who had never been there before.

Miss Granger also stepped forward and took Owen's hand.

A thick barrier has appeared between the two good friends.

Harry finally realized what was happening.

After all, he had dated Ginny for most of the semester, so he had some discernment.

His cheek twitched involuntarily, then he immediately tried to change the subject, looking at Dumbledore and asking in a slightly anxious tone, "Shall we go now, Professor?"

"Go?" Dumbledore said. "Of course, Harry. But not now. There's something I need to discuss with your aunt and uncle first."

"What's going on?" Harry was a little confused.

"That's right," Dumbledore said briefly, "that's how it is."

He suddenly pulled out his wand, and no one nearby noticed.

With a gentle wave of the magic wand, the sofa in the living room suddenly grew larger, and the entire living room became more spacious.

He put away his wand and said cheerfully, "Now we can all sit down comfortably."

He had barely finished speaking when Owen pulled Hermione to sit on the sofa.

Dumbledore smiled and followed.

Everyone else followed suit, and even though Harry was somewhat reluctant, he patiently sat down on the sofa.

The Dursleys stood at the junction of the kitchen and living room.

Their faces darkened, and they seemed at a loss.

Now, they seem to be the guests, while the group of children and elderly people in the living room seem to be the hosts.

"I was thinking you'd buy me something to drink," Dumbledore said to Vernon. "Well, well—that's alright, I can buy you some of our local drinks."

The old headmaster waved his wand again, and a dirty wine bottle and several glasses appeared in the air.

The bottle automatically tilted to fill each cup with a honey-yellow liquid, and then the cups floated towards each person in the room.

"Lady Rosmerta's finest oak-ripened mead," Dumbledore said.

Everyone raised their glasses and took a sip.

Too sweet—that was the only flavor Irving could taste.

Only an old wizard like Dumbledore, who doesn't get diabetes, would like this kind of thing.

Hermione and the others also thought it was too sweet.

Compared to the milk tea that Irving sells, this kind of alcohol has virtually no market.

Only a few long-time residents of Hogsmeade Village still buy it.

Vernon and Penny also sat on the sofa, keeping a distance from them.

"Alright, now let's get down to business," Dumbledore said, setting down his glass. "You may not realize it, but Harry will be an adult in a year—"

"No!" said Aunt Petunia, her first words since Dumbledore's arrival.

"Excuse me, what did you say?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"No, he's not an adult yet. He's a month younger than Dudley, who won't turn eighteen until the year after next."

Harry looked at his aunt with some surprise.

He never knew that this woman actually remembered his birthday.

"Ah—" Dumbledore smiled and looked at Petunia. "That's your way of calculating things. In our world, seventeen is considered an adult."

"Hmph—absurd," Vernon muttered, but Dumbledore ignored him.

"You should have known this already. Nowadays, that wizard named Voldemort has caused many riots and murders all over the world."

The United States is only now emerging from chaos.

Although it wasn't his individual effort, it's fair to say he conquered a country.

"He conquered America?" Vernon looked incredulous. "Ridiculous—utterly absurd. How could this be? America is at war? There's not a single word of it."

"Ahem—" His voice drew a light cough from Owen, and Vernon instinctively looked at him.

Then, Irving lay lazily on the sofa, stretched out his hand, and pointed to a newspaper on the table in front of him.

There were many things on the living room table: newspapers, an ashtray, and some mail.

The email came from a bank—Tongxing Bank.

It's likely that Vernon's company has some business dealings with this bank.

Following the direction of Irving's finger, Vernon shifted his gaze to the British Economic Journal on the table.

Newspapers used bold, large headlines to report on the Great Depression in the United States.

"..." Uncle Vernon seemed choked, his face gradually turning red, then he became furious. His small eyes widened sharply. "You're the ones who did all this? Damn it, the wizarding war is affecting our business!"

"A batch of our Groning company's drilling rigs is stuck in the US, and we can't get paid," he roared. "It's all your fault!"

"Drilling rig?" Ron asked, sitting on the other side of the sofa.

"A mechanical device that drives a drilling tool to drill into the ground to obtain physical geological data," Irving explained.

"Drill underground?"

"Muggles have machines like this?" Ron said with some curiosity. His knowledge of Muggle machines far surpassed that of most wizards; he knew about television, movies, and radio.

But he had never heard of a drilling rig.

Indeed, this kind of device doesn't exist in everyday life.

"So, you're going to lose your job?" Harry said with a hint of schadenfreude. "No wonder Sirius had such a big fight with you. He must have been paying for me to stay here!"

"That's what we deserve. We raised you for over ten years. You heartless wretch."

At the appropriate time, someone shut off Vernon's wheat.

After a three- or four-second pause, it was untied again.

“Words, sir,” Owen said, glancing at him. “Swearing will rot your tongue, you know.”

Vernon shuddered at the girl's threat.

Then he swallowed the word that was on the tip of his tongue.

Dumbledore shook his head. The Dursleys' attitude towards Harry was even worse than he had imagined. "Alright, let's get back to business."

"Yes, as you know, Voldemort has tried to kill Harry many times. Now Harry is in a more dangerous situation than when I left him on your steps fifteen years ago. At that time, I left a letter explaining that his parents had been murdered and hoping that you would take care of him as your own child."

Dumbledore stopped, and although his voice remained relaxed and calm, and his face showed no sign of anger, Harry felt a chill emanating from him, and the Dursleys suddenly trembled.

"You didn't do as I said. You never treated Harry like your own son. All he got from you was neglect and constant abuse. Luckily, he at least escaped the terrible harm you inflicted on that poor boy sitting between you."

"We're abusing Dudley? What are you doing...?" Uncle Vernon said angrily.

"Of course it's because you raised your son like a pig," Owen said with a cruel smile.

"You," Vernon wanted to erupt.

But Dumbledore raised a hand to signal for quiet, and the room immediately fell silent, as if he had suddenly rendered Uncle Vernon mute.

"The spell I cast fifteen years ago means that as long as Harry can still call this place home, he will receive strong protection. No matter how miserable, unwelcome, or mistreated he may be here, you have at least reluctantly given him a place to stay," Dumbledore continued. "When Harry turns seventeen, that is, when he becomes a man, this spell will break down, and he will leave. So, I only ask one thing: that you allow him to return to this home before Harry's seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protective force continues until then."

Vernon looked grim, as if Dumbledore were about to shove a bomb into their house.

Petunia's gaze was somewhat complicated. She glanced at Harry, then looked at the other young wizards present.

Especially the beautiful redhead sitting next to Harry.

His nephew had never mentioned having a girlfriend.

And there are other children.

Unconsciously, she thought of her own children.

Dudley doesn't have such a good friend. Considering what Dumbledore just said, Harry is being targeted by a murderer who defeated America, and his friend is actually willing to come here.

If this had happened to Dudley, his cronies would have run away long ago.

Looking back on all the times I spoiled Dudley, it now seems like I was actually abusing him.

Vernon was still hesitant; he didn't want Harry to stay in their house any longer.

but.

Harry was right; he was indeed about to lose his job.

Two months ago, the company suddenly promoted him from supervisor to manager.

He had initially been happy and celebrated with his family. However, he later learned that the company had not received the final payment for several batches of drilling rigs exported to the United States, Egypt, and several African countries.

For some reason, it was as if the world had suddenly entered a financial crisis, and many projects were suspended.

His company, Groning, suddenly fell into a financial crisis.

The company promoted him so that he could be responsible for communicating with the bank and securing a loan.

If he doesn't get it, he'll be fired, and the executives will blame him for all the company's problems. Then they'll lay off a large number of people and close the factory.

For the past month, he has been busy negotiating with the bank.

However, the results were minimal.

No bank would be foolish enough to lend money to a company with such serious financial problems.

He's about to lose his job.

Harry was right. He had a huge fight with his murderous godfather, and the only reason he was allowed to keep him was because of a large sum of gold.

"You seem conflicted?" Irving raised an eyebrow, looking at Vernon. "Because you haven't received enough benefits, right?"

"."

Vernon's face flushed red and then turned pale after Irving exposed his wicked thoughts.

"Hmph—" The boy glanced at him dismissively and continued, "I saw that email on your desk."

"Tongxing Bank—your company is probably looking to get a loan."

Owen pointed to Dumbledore beside him, and then said in a strange tone, "The man before you is the—well—lover of the chairman of the joint board of directors of the Bank of Communications."

(End of this chapter)