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Chapter 304 — Harry's Summer Vacation!!
In many ways, Harry really was an odd sight on Privet Drive No. 12.
After all, the Dursleys mocked him constantly.
To them, he was a useless ornament—worse, an unreliable trouble-maker. Uncle Vernon often said Harry looked like someone who was always brewing something bad.
Harry had tried to explain that he was just a normal wizard, even quite popular in the wizarding world.
But Uncle Vernon never believed him.
And because of Darren…
Last summer the Dursleys had actually planned to treat Harry better.
Yet somehow, Harry had still managed to "blow them up."
Harry sat on his attic bed and let out a long, frustrated sigh.
He knew last summer's events had completely infuriated the Dursleys, undoing all the progress they'd made the year before.
But he couldn't help it.
Everything had been caused by a house-elf named Dobby.
He had originally expected to see Tom Riddle at the end of the school year, defeat him, and then give that troublesome elf a stern lecture.
But he never saw Dobby again—not even during the holidays.
That made him uneasy again.
He hoped the little elf was still alive.
Pachi had once told him that house-elves who disobeyed or betrayed their masters were often harshly punished—sometimes cast out, sometimes killed.
But that was only one of Harry's worries.
What troubled him more right now was his homework.
Because of everything that happened last year, he hadn't studied well at all. His results were barely passing—and according to Professor McGonagall, he was lucky he didn't need to repeat the year.
All the teachers had given him piles of summer homework.
He worked hard every day, trying to catch up.
But a few days ago, the Dursleys had guests over.
And they had seen him doing homework.
When they saw his quill moving on its own and the enchanted books rustling, they nearly screamed.
The Dursleys were forced to tell them Harry had learned some "street juggling" and was only putting on a show.
After finally sending their guests away, the Dursleys exploded at Harry.
They were convinced he had done it on purpose.
That he had intentionally shown off in front of those people so they'd learn the Dursleys were sending him to a wizarding school.
In revenge, the Dursleys confiscated everything—
his cauldron, his books, his quills, even his wand and broomstick.
They wanted him to go back to Hogwarts unprepared.
They wanted him to suffer.
Harry felt awful.
He was clearly a popular young wizard in the wizarding world.
He even had a twin brother—Darren—who admired him so much.
So why did coming back to the Muggle world make him feel like a worthless insect?
He sighed again.
He had no idea how to convince Uncle Vernon to give everything back.
There was one easy solution—writing to Darren.
Darren was always so gentle.
If he knew Uncle Vernon wasn't letting Harry do homework, he would definitely rush back, apologize to the Dursleys, and make them return his things.
The Dursleys still liked Darren.
They would even be pleasantly surprised to see him.
But imagining Darren bowing his head to apologize for something that wasn't his fault… Harry's stomach twisted.
Darren had done nothing wrong.
Harry couldn't use him like that.
Besides, Darren was now studying under Nicolas Flamel—Flamel's heir.
Harry had heard that Nicolas Flamel didn't have much time left and desperately needed a successor, so Darren was working extremely hard.
He wrote fewer letters than before.
And whenever he did write, the letters were short and hurried—but Darren always said he was doing well.
He said the Flamels were very kind to him and bought him many gifts.
Harry believed the Flamels would give him gifts—they weren't short on money, and Darren was indeed lovable.
But Harry didn't completely believe it.
People who treated someone so well often had a purpose.
They must need Darren to learn everything as quickly as possible.
There was no such thing as kindness without reason.
Darren must have been exhausted.
Harry didn't want to trouble him while he was so busy.
He needed to think of something else.
Maybe he could sneak downstairs, steal his things back, and then hide under his blanket to write homework at night.
Not writing homework at all?
Harry had never considered that.
Because Hogwarts had one professor who hated him intensely:
Professor Snape.
If Snape discovered Harry had skipped homework, he would happily make him repeat the year.
He would also treat Harry to his usual cruel, sneering remarks.
"No, I have to get my things today. There isn't much time left before school starts!"
Harry made up his mind.
He climbed down from the attic carefully.
He could hear Dudley snoring loudly.
Aunt Petunia whispering below.
And Uncle Vernon muttering irritably.
He moved quickly.
Finally—
He grabbed everything he needed.
Then, clutching his books tightly, he sneaked back up to his room.
"Hopefully I can finish all of this before they notice…"
Harry felt relieved.
He lay on his bed and began writing furiously.
But he had barely written a few lines—
when Hedwig appeared outside his window.
Hedwig, his snowy owl, had been with him for two years.
But Hedwig suffered terribly every summer.
She always caught dead rats and brought them home to eat.
Aunt Petunia hated it and never let Hedwig inside the house.
So Harry had no choice but to let Hedwig fly freely.
Sometimes she stayed with his friends.
Sometimes she visited Darren.
Hedwig liked Darren a lot.
Last time, when Darren sent Harry a letter, Harry found out Hedwig had spent several days with him.
"Alright, alright, stop pecking, I'm opening it now—where have you been this time?"
France again?
Did you visit Darren?
I'm so jealous… you can see him any time you want…
"Huh? Who sent this letter? Is it Darren?"
Harry untied the envelope from Hedwig's leg.
The handwriting caught his eye instantly—it was Dumbledore's.
Dumbledore rarely wrote to him.
The first time had been in his first year, when he'd sent Harry the Invisibility Cloak.
Last year, because the Headmaster had slipped Darren Veritaserum, Harry had been angry at him.
Fortunately, they had talked honestly later, and the misunderstanding faded.
But now…
Why was Dumbledore writing to him again?
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