August 1992, London, Surrey.
4 Privet Drive.
The night breeze lightly brushed against the neat hedges lining Privet Drive, the street lay silent and spotless under the pitch-black sky.
Twelve streetlamps stood quietly by the roadside, emitting a warm yellow light.
In stark contrast to these warm lights was Harry Potter's desolate mood.
"Caaaw—"
"Shush! Hedwig!" The startled boy quickly turned back to the cage, addressing the white owl inside. He raised his right index finger to his lips, intentionally lowering his voice, "I know you're hungry, but can you wait just a bit longer..."
"?"
Crouched in the cage, Hedwig tilted her head in confusion, her yellow-black eyes showing a human-like shock. She began to doubt if the boy in front of her had gone mad from hunger.
"...What am I even saying?"
Realizing he was starting to babble, Harry sighed helplessly, soothing the slightly agitated Hedwig, and then laid back down on the desk by the window.
His empty stomach protested to its owner; since sunset, all he'd had was a bowl—oh, no, only half a bowl—of vegetable soup. He gave the remaining soup and vegetables at the bottom of the bowl to the equally famished Hedwig. Although the snow-white owl expressed her dissatisfaction by puffing up her feathers, her food dish was empty once again within minutes.
"Dong dong—"
Unable to sleep from hunger, Harry couldn't help but bang his head against the desk, his lightning-shaped scar crumpled up. As for how he ended up in this predicament... ah, it's all the fault of that inexplicable House-Elf!
Three days ago, Harry Potter was a happy and free little boy, although having to return to Uncle Vernon's house during the holidays made him unhappy for quite a while. Ever since he started at the so-called Hogwarts School of Magic, the uncle, who looked like a fat hippopotamus, completely regarded him as a freak—
But being seen as a monster wasn't all bad. Although Uncle Vernon's family treated him worse than ever, Harry spent his happiest month at the Dursleys thanks to magic. Of course, it all came to an abrupt end when that House-Elf named Dobby arrived.
Warning Harry not to go to Hogwarts, ruining Uncle Vernon's long-prepared dinner party, and even causing him to receive a warning from the Ministry of Magic—of course, the worst thing was that Uncle Vernon found out about his inability to cast spells outside of Hogwarts!
Since that day, Uncle Vernon locked him in his room. Apart from waiting for the vegetable soup pushed through the trapdoor, all he could do was stare out the window through the iron bars...
And the only thing that made Harry happy was finally discovering why he hadn't received a single letter for half the summer holiday; it was due to the House-Elf's meddling. The Elf intercepted all the letters just to make him forget about Hogwarts...
Every time he thought about this, Harry's slightly uplifted spirits would sink again. Although he knew he had friends at Hogwarts, what good was that now? His friends wouldn't know the plight of the famous Harry Potter.
Moreover, he thought he might starve to death in the room before the school year began...
No, he had to save himself!
The somewhat dejected boy raised his hand and patted his cheek. Even without magic, or even if he used it, he wasn't sure he could escape the room, but there was always hope—
This afternoon, when he woke up hungry, he saw an owl fly into number 12 Privet Drive across the street.
At the time, to confirm it wasn't a hunger-induced illusion, he watched at the window for twenty minutes until he saw the homeowner open the window and release a gray-brown owl. Upon seeing this scene, Harry nearly screamed—there was a good chance the homeowner was also a Wizard!
It turned out there was a Wizard living on Privet Drive!
This discovery surprised Harry, but also filled him with hope. If the person knew there was a little Wizard starving to death just across the street, they would surely help... right?
Determined, Harry tore a piece from his bedsheet. Unable to find a pen, he used his finger to dab the dust in the corner of the room—after nearly a week without cleaning, there was plenty—and wrote down his plight, letter by letter. At this point, Harry didn't care if his "cry for help" would breach the "Secrecy Act" if seen by a Muggle; even if it meant execution—it was much better than being locked in Uncle Vernon's house for life.
After writing the last letter, Harry unfolded the cloth and checked it. Confirming the content was correct, he looked around and chose a broken camera—his room was filled with his cousin Dudley's toys, although they were all broken.
Wrapping the camera and cloth together, he pushed apart the bars with his hands and hurled them with all his might.
"Clang—"
Although Harry was a bit malnourished, the cloth bundle hit the streetlight with a clang before rolling into the garden across the street under Harry's hopeful gaze—
As he watched the package disappear in the grass, Harry finally took a deep breath. This was his last hope—until he had enough to eat again, he definitely didn't have the strength to throw the package that far again.
Now he could only hope the Wizard across the street was diligent and would tidy the garden—before Harry starved to death by the Dursleys.
"Hoot hoot—"
For some reason, Hedwig flapped her wings uneasily in the cage, and hearing the noise, Harry quickly shushed her again, "Quieter, Hedwig, don't wake Uncle Vernon. I don't want another scolding."
Harry lay on the floor, staring blankly at the moon in the night sky, until the silver crescent was obscured by a shadow...
"?"
What on earth?
Seeing a turquoise car appearing by the window, Harry could hardly believe his eyes as he rubbed them—
"Ron?"
He saw the head sticking out of the car's rear window—red hair, a face full of freckles, and a long nose—
"Hey, Harry, how's it going?" the red-haired boy asked with a smile.
After a brief explanation and a series of twists, amidst Uncle Vernon's roars, the turquoise car roared into the sky, racing towards the moon. Hedwig spread her wings, and Harry stuck his head out of the window, the free wind brushing against his thin face—
"The Great Savior", Harry Potter, escaped the cage that imprisoned him today!
At this moment, he had already tossed aside his "last hope" from ten minutes ago.
...
Meanwhile, above the departing vehicle on Privet Drive, a brown owl hovered in the air. After circling twice, it quickly found its target among the rows of identical townhouses.
It flew straight down onto the second-floor windowsill. The window was open, and a slender, pale hand reached out from inside, cradling the owl and drawing it into the room—
Behind the wind-blown curtains, a pair of deep blue eyes gazed at the star-and-moon-filled skyline now empty of all else: "...What was that?"