"Hilton," Harry said calmly, "help me wash my pet and then ask the chef to prepare a lot of food. He's probably starving."
"Yes, boss," Hilton replied nervously.
The aura of the boss, the aura of a wizard, and certain shy little thoughts made it impossible for her to treat him as casually as she did with those men who chased her in the Muggle world.
The large black dog gave a dissatisfied whimper as he glanced at the newspaper on the table.
…
Moments later, in a dining room.
Hilton brought the now freshly washed black dog into the room.
She had even sprayed him with perfume—what a thoughtful employee.
The dining table was filled with food, mostly meat, and the enticing aroma filled the entire room.
"This is your food," Harry said.
The black dog's stomach growled and drool dripped from his mouth.
His table manners were certainly not refined, but he figured—well, Harry didn't know he was his godfather, so he might as well abandon his sense of shame.
Harry had even prepared a luxurious room for Black, right next to his own.
All the employees now knew that the boss had adopted a dog and treated it extremely well.
They all sighed, "A dog lives better than a person."
…
In the days that followed, Black gradually got used to this strange but unprecedented sense of freedom.
Before, he had been imprisoned in Azkaban, living each day in painful memories.
Now, he could wake whenever he pleased, eat whatever he liked. He could even go wherever he wanted—as long as it was within Diagon Alley. And this long cobbled street was lined with the most alluring magical shops in the world.
Every day, Black followed Harry. They'd have breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron. He loved to observe the newly rebuilt Broken Axe Inn and its other patrons: eccentric little witches from the countryside out shopping early in the morning, frail-looking wizards debating the latest article in Transfiguration Today, disheveled spellcasters, bickering goblins... Once, he even saw a woman who looked exactly like a stereotypical fairytale hag—wrinkled, hooked nose, the works—order a plate of raw liver.
After breakfast, Harry would walk into the backyard, pull out his wand, and tap the third brick from the left above the trash bin. Then he'd step back and watch the magical doorway to Diagon Alley open in the wall.
Black would eagerly dart through it.
On those long, sunlit days, Black would follow Harry in and out of shops, eating under colorful umbrellas outside cafés.
Other diners would show off their purchases to each other or discuss the Sirius Black case.
"If the Ministry doesn't catch Black soon, I'm not letting my kids step outside the house!"
At moments like that, Black would sprawl boldly on the ground, belly up, basking in the sun with a look of disdainful amusement in his eyes.
Ordinary, peaceful days—only those who have lost everything truly understand how precious they are.
But what Black loved most was watching Harry read.
Harry would sit quietly by the hotel window, which could display all kinds of weather—sunny, stormy, snowy.
Black would lie obediently on the carpet.
After days of recovery, there was no trace left of Black's formerly gaunt appearance.
When he stood up, he looked majestic, the size of a small calf.
Though Harry looked much like his father, their personalities were quite different.
His father was always active, never one to quietly read. Once, when they passed by the broom shop, a new model had just been released—the Firebolt Crossbow. Even Black couldn't help stopping to admire the wildly popular broomstick.
But Harry hadn't even glanced at it. He showed zero interest.
Instead, he'd often vanish suddenly and return with another magical book in hand.
Curious, Black peeked at what Harry was reading.
His eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
That was definitely a restricted book—Dark Magic!
The title read: 20 Dark Spells Every Top Dark Wizard Must Master.
Even Black, who had lived through the dark days of Voldemort and had seen countless evil magics, was stunned by how cruel some of the spells were.
The page Harry was reading depicted a corpse with its abdomen split open, innards spilling out, and a swarm of disgusting bugs devouring the organs.
Harry, however, didn't even flinch. He read on with relish—literally—while spooning ice cream into his mouth.
Merlin help us! How had Harry become like this? He was going down a dark path!
Black felt awful. He wanted to immediately transform and give Harry a good talking-to. But... did he even have the right?
In the end, he resolved to stop Harry from reading that book no matter what.
But he was just a dog right now.
So, he pounced and tore the book to shreds with his sharp claws.
He braced himself to be kicked out by Harry—but Harry wasn't angry.
He simply cast Reparo with his wand and restored the book to perfect condition.
Then continued reading… so Black shredded it again… and Harry restored it again… and Black shredded it again… (repeat for a million words…)
Finally, Harry gave up and put the book away.
Black barked happily and wagged his tail.
The man-versus-dog battle ended—for now—in a victory for the dog.
But then Harry pulled out a new book: 20 Dark Spells Every Top Dark Wizard Must Master – Advanced Edition.
And the war resumed…
…
There were a few things Harry had to buy. He went to the apothecary to restock the ingredients needed for Potions class. Speaking of Potions, it reminded him of Snape. He still held absolute, undying murderous intent toward the man.
His uniform trousers and sleeves were too short—he'd grown too fast—so he stopped by Madam Malkin's for new robes.
Most importantly, he needed to buy his new textbooks, including ones for two new classes: Care of Magical Creatures and Divination.
Flourish and Blotts usually displayed thick, gold-lettered books like paving stones, but now behind the glass sat a large iron cage filled with about a hundred copies of The Monster Book of Monsters.
The books were all tangled together, viciously attacking one another like a wrestling match gone wild. Shredded paper flew everywhere.
Their covers had jagged teeth along the edges like gaping maws, chomping down on the others without mercy.
Harry didn't need that book, though—Hagrid had already given him a copy and informed him that he would be teaching Care of Magical Creatures.
His reading list also included Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Vablatsky, Intermediate Transfiguration, and Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3.
The shop assistant searched for a while and handed him the correct titles.
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⚡🪄 THE REBIRTH OF HARRY POTTER
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