The wheelchair-bound warrior is speedrunning Hogwarts.

Not at the Dursleys' house, not at Hogwarts—we can come here during the summer holidays, or somewhere else.

"Just the two of us, or Hermione too, if you'd like, we can have a proper celebration."

She paused, then added, "Make up for all the things I missed before."

Harley froze, her ice cream spoon hanging in mid-air.

Her emerald green eyes blinked, as if she hadn't quite grasped what was happening, or perhaps she was carefully processing every word Vera was saying.

Make up for what you missed before.

A bittersweet feeling quickly overwhelmed her, even more so than when she heard Vera didn't have a birthday. She tried to force a nonchalant smile, but her lips wouldn't cooperate.

"R-really?" Her voice trembled slightly, and she quickly lowered her head, pretending that the ice cream had burned her tongue. "Actually...actually, it didn't have to be so complicated..."

“No trouble at all.” Vera’s tone remained calm, yet it carried a power that could soothe any unease. “You celebrated my birthday, so of course I should celebrate yours too.”

Harley nodded vigorously, unable to speak any more, and just buried her head in eating ice cream, trying to use the cold, sweet taste to suppress the sob in her throat and the heat welling up in her eyes.

She suddenly felt that all the unhappiness and loneliness of the first half of this summer had vanished.

The sun is shining brightly.

The ice cream is so sweet.

Her Vera was the best.

Outside the window, people thronged and cars streamed by, but at this moment, in this small corner, the two girls' moods were as bright as the weather.

The rest of the shopping trip was much more enjoyable, and Harley's mood was like an inflated balloon, so light she almost floated away.

They visited several more stores, and Vera even bought Halle a few new outfits that fit her well.

Although Harley insisted on keeping track of the expenses, claiming she would definitely pay them back later.

Vera had no idea how many bills Harley had recorded in just a day or two.

But... let her be.

As the sun set, they carried gifts for Hermione and trinkets they had bought for themselves, and contentedly set off on their way back to Grimmauld Place.

The subway car swayed slightly. Harley leaned against Vera's wheelchair, holding a gift box in her arms, her face showing weariness but also a satisfied smile.

She would glance down at the gift every now and then, then look up at Vera beside her, who had a calm expression, her heart filled with a sense of overwhelming happiness.

Back at number 12, the old house remained quiet, but it no longer felt empty and desolate; instead, it had a more lived-in feel.

“We can start reviewing the textbooks for the first grade tomorrow,” Vera said between meals. “I’ve compiled the book list Hermione sent, and some of the books might be available in the library.”

“Sure!” Harley responded enthusiastically, then added a little shyly, “But you might have to teach me a bit more…”

“No problem.” Vera nodded. “We can learn together.”

They will have a very fulfilling summer vacation.

Author's Note: The bounty ends tonight. So far, we've received 24 chapters and 48000 words in donations. Thank you all so much for your support! How about we round it up to 5? Hurry up and squeeze more out of us!

Volume Two, Year Two

Chapter One: Vera's Letter

It was another early morning, and as usual, Harley woke up in the sunlight and enjoyed a delicious breakfast prepared by Kreacher with Vera.

For her, the time she spent at the Blakes' house felt like falling into a honey pot.

She no longer had to face the Dursleys; 12 Grimmauld Place, though old and quiet, gave her an unprecedented sense of freedom and security.

She could sleep until noon if she wanted, but in order to have breakfast with Vera, she felt it was better to go to bed early and get up early.

Every morning, without fail, Vera would go to the training room, which was the only place Harley was not allowed to set foot in when she came to the Black family home.

When she first asked to go in and watch Vera's workout, Vera gently but firmly refused.

She said she didn't want Harley to see her looking so disheveled.

When Harley first heard those words, she stood there stunned for a long time.

She looked at Vera's calm profile, and a faint shadow seemed to flicker across her usually serene black eyes, a shadow she couldn't fully comprehend.

“I don’t think you’re pathetic…” Harley tried to explain urgently, her voice softening involuntarily, “I just want to… stay with you.”

"I know, but there are some paths I have to walk alone. I'll invite you to join me when I'm ready."

Vera's voice remained calm as always, but with an added air of unwavering conviction.

After she finished speaking, she turned her wheelchair towards the training room without looking back.

Harley could only stand there, watching the heavy, tightly closed training room door shut behind Vera, cutting off all sounds from inside.

Every morning, she could only imagine what was happening inside by the towels and water that Kreacher brought in each day, and by the exhaustion that Vera occasionally revealed when she came out, which she tried hard to hide.

This feeling of being excluded was unpleasant, and despite her resentment and worry, she could only respect Vera's own decision.

So every day before Vera came out of there, she had to find something to do.

She would groom Hedwig's feathers, browse through the seemingly harmless books in the Blake family's library, or simply play with the cat.

One morning, while Harley was playing with Knox, the cat seemed to get annoyed and slapped her hand with its paw before leaping up and pulling open a drawer under the desk.

Then he ran out of the room, cursing and swearing.

Harley guessed it must have been swearing a lot, but teasing cats is all about being a little naughty sometimes.

She was still laughing when she got up and went to close the drawer that the cat had torn open. But as soon as she got closer, she was stunned when she saw that it was full of envelopes.

She stared blankly at the drawer that Knox had inadvertently pulled open, which was filled with letters, all of them familiar envelopes bearing the Black family crest that Vera often used.

The recipient's address was neatly written on it: 4 Privet Road, Little Huigkin, Surrey, for Harley Porter.

In an instant, her blood seemed to rush to her head, and Harley suddenly felt dizzy. She quickly picked up the top few letters and opened them without thinking.

The period began shortly after the start of summer vacation and lasted until the day before Vera picked her up.

Each letter was heavy, clearly filled with content.

She hesitated for a moment, then carefully opened the first letter, the earliest one, according to the dates. The familiar, neat handwriting that belonged to Vera came into view:

"Harley, greetings."

After parting ways on the Hogwarts Express, Hermione and I arrived home safely.

London has been rainy lately, which reminds me of a warm fireplace in a castle. I wonder what the weather is like on Privet Drive? I hope the sun is generous enough to shine into your window.

P.S.: I usually back up my emails. If you don't like that, you can write to me and let me know.

I look forward to your reply.

Vera

The date was the day after they left Hogwarts.

Harley's nose tingled, and she quickly picked up the second, third... In each letter, Vera shared mundane daily life in a calm and gentle tone.

The book features Kreacher's new recipes, amusing passages she discovers, a wry smile at Hermione's "super long list of questions," and a few descriptions of the weather and sparrows outside the window…

Every word conveys a cautious concern and anticipation.

As the letter progressed, although the tone remained restrained, the subtle worry became increasingly apparent.

In the very last letter, the seventeenth one, only one sentence was written:

“Harley, I didn’t mean to bother you, but I’ll be visiting the Dursleys tomorrow just to make sure you’re alright.”

Seventeen letters, almost every two days, Vera would write to her.

She thought she had been forgotten in a small room on the second floor of No. 4 Privet Road.

She thought her friends were enjoying a wonderful new summer vacation without her, and that those solemn promises and friendships would eventually fade away after they parted ways…

It turned out not to be.

It turns out that someone, unbeknownst to her, had been persistently and repeatedly trying to penetrate that invisible wall to convey messages and concern to her.

However, she felt lonely and aggrieved, and even occasionally complained about their neglect and forgetfulness.

Harley clutched the letters tightly; the cool parchment against her palm brought a burning sensation that made her heart clench.

She remembered Vera's calm expression when she came to pick her up, and how casually she asked if she wanted to leave with her.

Throughout the entire process, Vera made no mention of these letters that never came to fruition, nor of her repeated attempts and failures.

"Idiot!" Harley muttered under her breath, unsure whether she was cursing Dobby for intercepting the letter or herself for being completely oblivious and wallowing in self-pity.

Or perhaps... it's a dig at Vera, who silently wrote seventeen letters but said nothing.

She quickly wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand, carefully gathering the scattered letters one by one, and rearranging them in chronological order, as if handling some fragile treasure.

Then, clutching the heavy stack of letters, she got up and hurried toward the door.

She needs to see Vera, right now.

Harley, clutching the stack of letters, practically ran through the quiet corridor to the training room door.

The heavy wooden door remained tightly shut, and no sound could be heard from inside.

She stopped walking, her rapid breathing calmed down slightly, but her heart was beating even faster.

She raised her hand, wanting to knock on the door, but hesitated and stopped.

Vera said she hoped she wouldn't go in.

But the letters in her hands were heavy, and the surging emotions urged her to see the owner of these letters.

Harley hesitated at the door for a long time, but in the end, she didn't knock. Instead, she hugged her knees, leaned against the cold wall, and sat down on the carpet outside the training room.

She decided to wait.

Time passed second by second, and the only sound in the corridor was the faint ticking of the old wall clock.

Harley rested her chin on her knees, her fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the letter.

After an unknown amount of time, a very faint "click" sound finally came from inside the training room door—the sound of the latch being opened.

Harley immediately looked up and instinctively held her breath.

The door was pulled open a crack from the inside, and Vera slowly slid out in her wheelchair.

Her forehead was damp with sweat, a few strands of silver hair clung to her cheeks, her face was paler than usual, and her lips were slightly pursed, showing a hint of exhaustion that she was trying hard to hide.

However, when she saw Harley sitting outside her door, clutching letters and with red eyes, a hint of surprise flashed across her calm, dark eyes.

"Harley?" Vera's voice was slightly panting from exercise. "Why are you sitting here?"

Harley didn't say anything, but simply stood up and solemnly showed her the neatly arranged stack of letters in her arms.

Vera lowered her head, her gaze falling on the envelopes, her weariness replaced by a complex emotion.

The corridor was extremely quiet.

"You saw it..." After a long while, Vera finally spoke softly, her tone devoid of any emotion, as if she were simply stating a fact.

Harley nodded, sniffed hard, and said with a heavy nasal tone, "...Seventeen letters, I've read them all."

Vera looked up at her reddened eyes and tightly pursed lips, paused for a moment, and then slowly said, "You haven't replied to my letters, so I knew something must have happened. That's why I came to pick you up."

Her tone was so matter-of-fact, as if processing her disappointment alone and taking action silently was the most natural thing in the world.

Harley looked at her, at the seemingly indestructible calm mask on her pale face, and her heart felt like it had been clenched by something, a mix of soreness and throbbing.

She suddenly stepped forward, bent down, stretched out her arms, and hugged Vera tightly in the wheelchair.

This was a hug that was both impulsive and incredibly earnest.

Harley buried her face in her shoulder and neck, her voice muffled as she said, "I'm sorry... and thank you for not giving up on me."

Vera's body stiffened slightly at the sudden embrace.

She could feel Harley's body trembling slightly, and feel that unreserved, burning emotion being transmitted through the thin fabric.

Her fingertips, which were hanging by her side, twitched. After hesitating for a moment, she finally slowly raised them and gently, somewhat awkwardly, patted Harley's back.

“No need to apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong,” she said softly, raising her hand to gently pat Harley’s back.

In fact, she was certainly guilty. She knew what was going to happen, but she couldn't get Harley away immediately.

So now, faced with Harley's gratitude, she actually felt a little embarrassed.

Outside the corridor window, the sunlight was just right, casting dappled light and shadow through the stained glass, quietly enveloping the two people embracing.