Day by day, the start of term drew closer.
Diagon Alley had filled up with students from the wizarding schools—pet shops, Flourish and Blotts, everywhere you looked.
On the last day of the summer holidays—
After Harry got up, he opened the window and sunlight poured in. Behind him, he could hear the steady roar of traffic from the invisible Muggle street, and the noisy bustle of the unseen crowds down below in Diagon Alley.
After a delicious breakfast, the one boy and the one dog continued to stay quietly in the room.
Black looked at Harry with a trace of worry in his eyes.
He'd noticed that Harry didn't have any friends. Harry had run into quite a few classmates in Diagon Alley, but none of them dared to speak to him.
Harry's attitude toward them was arrogant—or rather, indifferent.
Even when one or two girls came up blushing to greet him, Harry would keep a cold face and give the barest nod as his biggest response.
Then the girl would run off, heartbroken and in tears.
Something was very wrong.
Back in school, Harry's father had been popular—James had been good with people.
By rights, with Harry's fame, he ought to have even more friends.
Maybe it was because the "Savior" halo was too dazzling, and no one dared to approach? That was possible.
But then—why didn't Harry pursue any girls? If he took the initiative, with how outstanding he was, he should have had a girlfriend long ago.
Before meeting Harry, Black had imagined all kinds of bad scenarios—like Harry turning out to be a flirt, playing with girls' feelings and then dumping them.
Even if that had been the case, Black thought he could accept it.
But Harry didn't have a single female friend. He was thirteen already.
That was completely abnormal.
Eliminating every other possibility, Black arrived at a conclusion he didn't want to accept.
I'm sorry, James. Lily… it's all because of me. If I hadn't made that mistake, you wouldn't have died, and Harry wouldn't have ended up like this—unwatched, uncorrected, going down the wrong path.
Who could have guessed…
He's gay.
But don't worry. I'll fix his thinking.
And if there's really no way… I—I'll find him a truly excellent male partner…
I remember the Malfoys have a kid—Draco, right? When he was one, I saw him once. He was a very cute little boy…
…
Malfoy Manor.
Draco sneezed several times.
Lucius frowned. "I'm not on the Hogwarts Board of Governors anymore. So behave yourself at school. Stop going out of your way to pick on Harry Potter."
Draco looked aggrieved. He's the one who keeps bullying me.
…
Still pondering how to "correct" Harry's "bad habits," Black's ears suddenly pricked up. He stood.
A moment later, the door opened, and a pretty waitress walked in. The moment she saw Black, her face went pale.
That's not a dog. That's scarier than a wolf.
Nervously, she said, "Boss, there's a Miss Granger here to see you."
"All right. I understand."
Black's eyes lit up. Miss Granger—female!
The waitress fled at once.
Black began pacing in place, tugging at Harry's trouser leg, dragging him along.
Downstairs, a brown-haired girl was craning her neck and looking around.
"Hermione."
"Hey, Harry!"
Hermione waved happily. She ran a couple of steps, stopped—then ran right up to Harry anyway and hugged him.
"Harry, I think the way they're looking at me is wrong," Hermione whispered, discreetly pointing at several beauties at the front desk. "It feels dangerous."
Hermione's hair was—as always—a bushy mass. Harry patted it twice and said, "Maybe they're jealous because you're prettier than them."
Hermione looked a little pleased.
"My parents just dropped me off—and I brought everything I'll need for Hogwarts."
Behind Hermione were three bulging bags. One of them seemed to contain something alive, because it kept shifting.
"What are those?"
"You know I picked every subject. Those are my textbooks: Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies… But The Monster Book of Monsters is genuinely dangerous. If I hadn't tied it up with rope, my other books would've been shredded."
"Muggle Studies…" Harry said. "You're Muggle-born. I'd say even the author should be asking you for help understanding Muggles."
"But observing Muggles from a wizard's perspective should be interesting," Hermione said excitedly. "Like what the book says about guns. You know—guns are dangerous. But wizards think they're basically toys that spit metal balls. Because with a Shield Charm, a gun can't hurt a wizard at all. So they think Muggles are just… terribly fragile."
"Do you still need to buy anything?" Harry asked.
"I've got ten Galleons," Hermione said, glancing at her purse as if trying to sound casual. "September is my birthday. Mum and Dad gave me some money early so I can buy myself a birthday present."
"I want a pet. You've got a cat and an owl, and even a unicorn and a fire-breathing dragon. Even Neville has a toad. But I don't have anything…"
"I—what's that…?" Hermione finally noticed the big black dog crouched behind Harry, staring at her the entire time.
"Did you buy another pet?"
"Uh… not exactly… All right, let's go buy you a pet first."
"But let's put your luggage in your room." So Harry's second room finally had an occupant.
…
The Magical Menagerie.
The shop was cramped. Cages covered the walls in dense rows. The air stank, and the noise was deafening—everything in the cages was screeching, squeaking, chattering, or hissing.
Behind the counter, the witch was explaining to a wizard how to care for a double-ended newt. Harry and Hermione waited off to the side, studying the cages carefully.
Two enormous purple toads sat there, greedily stuffing themselves with dead blowflies, drool dripping from their mouths.
A turtle so big it was frightening sat by the window, its shell glittering like gemstones.
Poisonous orange snails slid slowly along the glass of a tank.
A chubby white rabbit popped into a satin top hat—popped back into a rabbit—then kept transforming over and over.
There were also cats of every color, a cage of squawking ravens, and a crate of ridiculous-looking, custard-colored furballs buzzing loudly.
On the counter sat a large cage full of sleek black rats, balancing on hairless long tails as they played some sort of jumping game.
"Looking for a pet?" The earlier customer was gone now; the shop witch asked.
Hermione snapped back to attention. "Oh—I want an owl—"
At that moment, a huge ginger thing suddenly sprang down from the top of the highest cage and landed on the floor.
It reared up and bared its teeth at Black, hissing fiercely.
It was a big cat—or rather, a small tiger.
Even though it was large for a cat, next to Black it still looked small.
But the cat was sharp—and unbelievably bold.
No matter which animal Black had gone near, they'd all sensed danger and fled as far as possible.
That lively nest of rats were now huddled together, trembling.
"No, Crookshanks, no!" the witch shouted, trying to restrain the big cat.
Cat and dog faced off. The witch worried that the vicious-looking dog would swat Crookshanks dead with a single paw.
Crookshanks stood rigid on all four legs, back arched, fur bristling. His claws dug into the floor.
A harsh "hrr—ss" of warning rasped from his throat.
But slowly, he relaxed. He circled Black once, puzzled—then leapt back up onto a cage.
Hermione grabbed Harry's arm, thrilled. "Harry, I want him. He's so beautiful."
…
Note: Update for an anonymous corner donation. But I can only watch donations come in. Awkward…
Still—your recommendation votes and bookmarks are what matter most.
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⚡🪄 THE REBIRTH OF HARRY POTTER
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