The hottest day (perhaps) of the summer was finally drawing to an end, and the large, square houses on Privet Drive were shrouded in a drowsy silence.
On ordinary days, the shining cars were all parked in the driveways looking gray and dull. The once lush green lawns had turned yellow—due to the severe drought this summer, watering hoses had been banned since the start of the holidays, leaving the residents of Privet Drive with nothing to do but wash their cars and tend their lawns—
Except, of course, for the garden of number twelve, which still boasted fresh, green grass.
The previous owner had moved with his family to Hawaii, and according to the current owner, the reason for this was that the plants in the garden were drought-resistant. The neighbors were skeptical, as most of them had secretly tried to plant some in their own gardens to no avail.
Of course, some people on the street knew the truth, but they were keen to avoid trouble, so how could they possibly invite it—
"Damn it, how long do those freaks intend to stay on this street?!"
In number four, Privet Drive, Vernon Dursley pulled the curtains tight with a flushed face. He had been staring out the window at the house across the street for ages, but hadn't seen what he'd hoped for. "Did that Hogwarts freak school get shut down?"
"It's called Hogwarts…"
Petunia, in the kitchen, reminded him subconsciously.
"Who cares if it's called Hogwaste or whatever…"
Vernon huffed angrily as he flopped onto the sofa, causing the wooden leg to creak ominously, as if he hadn't heard it, and even wiggled a bit, "I just wish those freaks would keep away from this street… Wait, where's Dudley?"
The man's gaze swept around the room but didn't spot his miniature version of himself.
"Maybe… he's upstairs playing with his new game console?"
Of course not, Dudley had sneaked out without his parents' knowledge and was currently blocked in the playground on Magnolia Crescent Street along with his friends—
By a scrawny-looking glasses-wearing boy, who seemed to have caught up on his nutrition over the past while.
"Hey, Dudders! Are those three floatation rings on your belly inflated with that fourth serving of pudding you sneaked for breakfast?"
The bright teenage voice broke the afternoon stillness, carrying a hint of deliberate provocation.
Harry Potter stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the relatively intact swing set, his emerald green eyes gleaming mischievously.
And just about to leave in a huddle with a few cronies, Dudley Dursley turned his head sharply at the sound, his plump face going from a dazed expression of surprise to a deep reddish-purple.
Clearly, his year-long diet plan wasn't having any effect.
Because cakes, pastries, and even a plate of greasy pork knuckles would magically appear under the boy's bed—Harry claimed he had no idea who did it, maybe a bored house-elf? Who knows?
"What are you saying, freak?"
Dudley's voice was coarse as he squinted, his eyes only marginally larger than those of a certain Lee surname singer, his words full of menace.
"I said," Harry straightened his body, the brilliant smile on his face somewhat infuriating, "are you really that afraid of the heat? Panting like Mrs. Figg's two dogs after just a short walk… Want to try taking off that 'neck brace' to cool down a bit?… Wait a minute?!" He deliberately feigned shock, "Is that your neck, Duddykins?!"
"You, you're looking for trouble!"
Dudley shouted in anger and shame. He knew Harry was exasperating but didn't expect him to become so reckless and continuously expose his shortcomings in front of his friends since he hadn't been staying at his house this summer. He swung his large arms, ready to charge across the street and give Harry a good punch.
"Oh? Want to have a go?"
Harry seemingly casually drew his wand from his pocket—although it was just a smoothly whittled-down stick, seeing this, Dudley instinctively halted and covered his rear end, remembering vividly the "pig tail" incident brought by Hagrid in Harry's first year.
The anger on Dudley's face was quickly replaced by a flicker of panic, as his father's hysterical warnings echoed in his ears.
He glared at Harry fiercely, blustering, "You bastard! Just wait—" With that, he tugged at his somewhat confused friends and nearly sprinted off in the direction of Privet Drive, afraid that some unknown spell might shoot towards him.
Watching Dudley's fleeing back, Harry grinned in satisfaction.
Now that Voldemort's shadow had dissipated, he no longer needed to be imprisoned in that house each summer for "blood protection," so now taunting Dudley had become his after-dinner pastime—whistling a tuneless tune in good spirits, he headed back to Privet Drive.
…
Opening the door of number twelve, Privet Drive, the warm and boisterous atmosphere that had been blocked by the door immediately hit him. As Harry entered, a small, furry black shadow darted past his feet, racing for the stairs.
"Kabuda! That's a useful spoon! Give it back!"
Professor Lupin's somewhat helpless voice followed from the kitchen, "Niffler Accio—" then Kabuda was seen flying backward toward the kitchen, but the Niffler quickly retaliated by reaching into its pouch, and with a flash of blue light, the Summoning Charm was nullified.
"How many gadgets did William give it?!"
Lupin peered out from the kitchen, despairing slightly when the little black creature didn't fly towards him.
"I think it ran upstairs, Professor Lupin."
Harry smiled, stepping aside to clear the path.
Lupin sighed and resignedly resumed his "Niffler chase."
Meanwhile, a contented growl came from the direction of the living room sofa.
Harry instinctively peeked in, spotting Sirius Black, his godfather, completely sunk into the thick upholstered sofa, lounging with three large yellow cats—
It was an adult cheetah, along with two nearly grown half-sized youngsters slightly smaller than their mother. The deep yellow fur gleamed slick, but Harry knew that the fur was actually quite pleasing to the touch.
"Yo, back already?"
Sirius raised a half-arm to lazily greet Harry, careful not to disturb "Ashley," who had her fluffy head resting on his belly, "What, ran into that little fatty across the street again? When will he finally decide to act?" He flashed a grin.
"He's still pretty scared of magic, so, honestly, expecting to decently thump a Dursley is probably not gonna happen…"
Harry took off his coat and sat on another sofa, where the smaller cheetah (Custard Pie) nudged its head forward. Harry scratched under its chin, and the young cat quivered its tail in contentment.
He knew Sirius had been hoping Dudley would make a move against him, so he could justifiably beat Vernon Dursley up…