Harry Potter had an absolutely dreadful summer holiday.
First, there was Ron's phone call home, which nearly made Uncle Vernon explode with rage. This led to even stricter surveillance, forcing Harry to do his homework late into the night. The prolonged lack of sleep left him looking increasingly haggard and gaunt. His cousin Dudley mocked him, saying his current scrawny, dark-eyed, messy-haired, and scarred appearance made him look more and more like those strange, mad wizards.
Later, a letter from Ron mentioned that his family had gone on holiday to Egypt. The Daily Prophet had reported the news, and in the photo, everyone looked so happy, even their sickly pet rat seemed much more lively. This made Harry feel even worse about his own predicament.
Everyone has a breaking point, let alone a child. When Aunt Marge came to visit, constantly criticizing him for being ungrateful, calling him an ungrateful dog, and even insulting his father, whom Muggles saw as unemployed, he finally snapped. He caused the family's wine and flower vases to explode, and Aunt Marge to inflate into a giant balloon.
He swore he didn't mean to. He hadn't even taken out his wand; the sheer force of his anger and resentment had simply brought it all about.
—The essence of magic is chaos. —It will obey the will of the self, thus magic blossoms. —So sometimes we don't need to rigidly adhere to so-called spells or casting standards, but rather focus on perceiving our own inner selves.
He didn't know why he recalled Professor Lockhart's teachings at such a moment; he was practically seething with rage. He dragged his heavy trunk, Hedwig's cage tucked under his arm, and frantically rushed out of the house. The professor's past lessons constantly flooded his mind.
The professor had looked at them so gently, saying, "Children, this world never has a standard that can truly be called 'truth' to judge right from wrong, but for us individuals, that standard always exists. If you are willing to look deep within yourselves, to question your own hearts, you will find the standard of right and wrong there."
"Only with an understanding of right and wrong can one better construct one's inner world, and only then will one's own will truly be expressed."
Harry stood in the empty street for a long time, panting. Finally, with a cry of injustice, resentment, and hysteria, he turned and rushed back home.
"You blasted little monster, get back here! Look what you've done! You freaks, you turned my precious son into a pig with a tail, and he had to spend a whole month in the hospital, enduring awful surgery and pain!" Uncle Vernon was still bellowing from inside the house. "Harry Potter! You..."
Bang!
The front door burst open. Harry, wand clutched tightly, his eyes red, glared at Uncle Vernon. It was a fury Uncle Vernon had never seen before, not a child's anger, but a terrifying rage that seemed to permeate the air, making all three of them shut their mouths in fright.
"I am not a blasted monster!" Harry said coldly, looking at them.
Uncle Vernon's plump face flushed crimson. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The air seemed to solidify.
Fortunately, Aunt Marge's terrified scream finally broke the frozen atmosphere. She was like a giant, round balloon, continuously bouncing off the ceiling, about to float out the open window.
"Quickly..." Uncle Vernon shouted anxiously.
Before he could finish, there was a violent crash as the window slammed shut, trapping Aunt Marge inside. He quickly turned around and saw that Harry, with a hand that wasn't even gripping his wand, had controlled everything. This terrified him. He tried his best to maintain parental authority, but a surge of fear truly welled up from deep within him. The Harry Potter before him suddenly seemed alien.
"Fix this at once!"
Uncle Vernon spoke, not realizing his voice had become weak, utterly devoid of authority. Harry held his wand, saying nothing, panting. After a long moment, he finally replied, "I don't know how I did that just now. I was too angry. If I'm going to save her now, I'll have to use my wand."
Uncle Vernon quickly yelled, "Then use your blasted stick, quickly!"
"But that'll get me expelled!" Harry's eyes were red as he looked at him. "I don't know where I'd go if I got expelled from Hogwarts! Here? I'm clearly not welcome here!"
Uncle Vernon opened his mouth, only managing to maintain an angry glare at Harry. He himself didn't know how he felt at that moment; his emotions were a complicated mess. Aunt Petunia, standing nearby, covered her face and began to weep, though it was unclear why.
"What do you mean, not welcome!" Uncle Vernon's attitude finally softened, and he muttered, "You were just a baby when you were left on our doorstep. Do you know how hard it was for your aunt and me to raise a baby? We'd never had kids, had no idea what to do. I went everywhere looking for suitable baby formula and clothes..."
This was something Harry had never heard before. He stared blankly at the middle-aged man with the complex expression, at his crying aunt, at his bewildered cousin, and for a moment, his heart was filled with a jumble of emotions. He had never felt so conflicted. He used to be so straightforward: love was love, hate was hate, like was like, dislike was dislike.
He gripped his wand tightly, took a sudden step forward, interrupting Uncle Vernon. He didn't know why he did this; perhaps he was afraid to hear those words, it made him uncomfortable. He cast a very unstandardized Reviving Charm at Aunt Marge. He didn't know if the magic would work, but a belief within him seemed to say—yes, this is how you cast it. And so, Aunt Marge slowly deflated like a leaky balloon, eventually returning to her original size and collapsing unconscious into the chair.
Harry pondered the complex situation before him, wondering how Professor Lockhart would handle it. Finally, he stepped forward resolutely and meticulously cast the Memory Charm.
"What are you doing?" Uncle Vernon asked nervously; this was his own sister, his closest blood relative.
"Making her forget tonight's events!" Harry turned back to look at them. "Don't speak, I'm not very good at this."
The Memory Charm was an extremely complex and advanced spell, not easy to cast successfully. Even though Professor Lockhart allowed the Duelling Club members to audit his N.E.W.T. preparation classes, explaining it thoroughly over several lessons, very few could actually cast it well. Fortunately, Harry succeeded in casting the spell.
He then cast spells at the crooked crystal chandelier, the vases, the wine bottles, the overturned table, and the scattered plates and food. "Reparo!" Everything seemed to rewind time; the table automatically floated upright, the tablecloth became neat and spread again, and plates of delicious-looking food, half-drunk wine bottles, vases, and broken flowers with fallen petals all returned to their original state.
This was magic Harry had never imagined he could successfully cast. But he had done it. With an extremely complex range of emotions, not entirely focused, his mind swirling with too many feelings and thoughts, he still managed to cast it successfully. He looked deeply at Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, then picked up his trunk and Hedwig's cage again, and walked out.
"Where are you going?" Uncle Vernon shouted.
Harry stopped and looked back at him.
"I mean... look..." Uncle Vernon seemed afraid to meet his eyes, merely muttering, "Everything's back to normal, isn't it? You could actually stay..."
Harry smiled. He didn't know what his expression looked like at that moment, but he smiled, looking at Uncle Vernon with bitter amusement. "I just said I can't cast spells outside of school, but I did. Am I supposed to stay here and wait for the Ministry of Magic Aurors to arrest me?" He certainly didn't want his wand snapped and to be thrown into Azkaban. He still had things to do; he had to seek revenge, he had to confront the Dark Lord Voldemort! Even if it meant becoming a fugitive.
Yes, Professor Lockhart was right; sometimes there truly was no standard for right or wrong. He had violated the rule about underage wizards casting spells outside of school, but he had no desire to accept punishment. He still firmly believed that what he did was right.
He walked away without looking back. The night wind howled through the street, carrying the sorrows from his aunt's house far, far away.
Harry Potter was just a child. At the end of his second year, he was only thirteen years old. He should have been bewildered, terrified, and at a loss, but he wasn't, not at all. He remembered Professor Lockhart's teachings.
—Harry, you should be more like a wizard, breaking free from the habits ingrained by Muggle life, and embracing a life with magic. —Only by getting close to magic will magic get close to you. You should have good potential, but none of it has been properly unleashed.
And so, on that night, Harry retrieved the Invisibility Cloak, one of the Deathly Hallows left by his father, and draped it over himself. This was a cloak that could even evade Death himself, let alone the threats from Voldemort or his minions. He hung his trunk and birdcage on his broomstick—a Firebolt, gifted to him by Professor Lockhart during an adventurous journey as payment. It was the most superb racing broom of its time, capable of accelerating from 0 to 150 miles per hour in ten seconds, enough to take him anywhere he desired.
Then he released his owl, Hedwig, instructing her to lead him to his good friend Ron. He didn't want to cause Ron's family any trouble, but he truly needed Ron's father, a Ministry of Magic official, to help him find out what judgment the Ministry had made regarding his spellcasting in front of Muggles.
And so, a truly wild adventure began. Setting off from Privet Drive in Surrey, England, he flew all the way to Egypt, traversing four or five countries and crossing two oceans, a long and arduous journey. Harry had never dared to do such a thing before. Yes, at most, he would sit on the street outside his house, vaguely waiting for a potential mishap, and then bravely face it.
However, now he was even braver. In Professor Lockhart's words, he didn't need to await the call to adventure; he could initiate it himself.
This journey was not without peril, but he possessed a powerful Invisibility Cloak, capable of concealing him even from powerful wizards. Quietly following the traces of some wizards, he managed to buy food in a magical shopping street in one of the wizarding nations, eventually arriving in Egypt without major incident.
Now, he needed to figure out where Ron and his family were. This was the challenge of his adventurous journey; he had to take off his Invisibility Cloak to communicate and inquire. He first set his sights on a wizarding travel shop because he saw the Daily Prophet in the shop window. Perhaps the newspaper would feature an article about the Weasley family's trip, and then he would know where they were. Or perhaps... Well, though he was somewhat afraid to think about it, perhaps the Daily Prophet would report on the supposed 'Boy Who Lived' and his dreadful actions during the holidays, clearly stating the Ministry of Magic's verdict, and then he wouldn't have to bother the Weasley family.
He hesitated by the shop door for a moment, confirming the street was empty, then suddenly yanked off his Invisibility Cloak, draping it over his broomstick nearby. He quietly held onto the broom with one hand, ready to shoot into the sky if there was any trouble.
"Excuse me..." he took a step towards the door, peering in to ask the drowsy shopkeeper sitting under a parasol.
"Oh! Merlin's pink nappies!" the shopkeeper exclaimed, startled. "Where did you come from?"
"I..." Before Harry could speak, there was a sudden, loud CRACK nearby. It was Apparition! He knew that sound very well! Because Professor Lockhart had insisted that every student meticulously memorize the sound produced by that magic.
However, before he could react, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK —a series of loud bangs reverberated all around him. He turned in terror to see figures suddenly appearing on the street, surrounding him completely.
"Oh!" the shopkeeper screamed in fright, his eyes rolling back as he fainted in his deckchair, then subtly peeked open an eyelid, trying to see what was happening. Then he fell asleep, very peacefully.
"Harr-y Pot-ter!" Snape lowered his wand, examining Harry from head to toe. "Look at our Boy Who Lived, bringing us so many surprises yet again." Harry felt a sudden wave of relief upon hearing that voice. He didn't know why he relaxed, even though he had always loathed Snape. He tried his best to look at the people around him; some he didn't recognize, but others were so familiar. Ron's father and mother, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid... and standing beside him, looking down at him...
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, shrinking slightly under the keen gaze.
"It seems you've made good use of the cloak your father left you," Dumbledore said, a smile gracing his face. "How was your summer journey?" It was spoken as casual small talk, remarkably kind. Of course, Harry didn't rule out that it might be sarcasm; he didn't know. He merely forced a not-too-awkward smile and said, "Not... not bad."
"Really?"
Snape, standing nearby, sneered and abruptly waved his wand at a nearby corner. "Petrificus Totalus!"
CRACK!
A figure fell to the ground, their Invisibility Cloak slipping off, revealing wide, staring eyes to everyone. Snape slowly walked forward, his tone becoming increasingly cutting. "It seems our Boy Who Lived is unaware of the dangers in the world, always thinking adventure is just child's play."
Alright. Harry took back what he had just thought. Snape was just hateful; he shouldn't have felt even a flicker of goodwill towards him! But who was this person hiding in the corner under an Invisibility Cloak? Everyone soon had their answer. After Snape cast a spell on the person, enveloping their eyes in a pink mist, the figure cried out, "That blasted Gilderoy Lockhart! He dared to write about the Dark Lord like that! There's a 100,000 Galleon bounty on his head! They want him dead!!!"
"Ha!" Snape chuckled. Just as Harry had suspected, it was evil, and Professor Lockhart even considered Snape a good friend, and he was still laughing! A 100,000 Galleon bounty! Harry couldn't even imagine how much wealth that was, but he knew many people would be tempted. At least, from his interactions with classmates, he knew many families were quite strapped for cash and needed such a sum of Galleons. He was worried sick, yet Snape was still laughing. Lockhart must have been completely deluded by Snape to consider him a friend!
"You don't look like you're trying to find Gilderoy's trouble, hiding in this corner," Snape mocked the person. "What, you tracked Lockhart all the way here?"
The person yelled, "Of course not! Everyone can't find where that horrible fellow went!"
"We're watching every bookstore to see who's buying Lockhart's blasted books! Maybe that information could fetch a price too! Many pure-blood families are willing to pay, to show their loyalty to the Dark Lord..."