"You should also remember a few rules," the policeman continued. "Your children must be equally well dressed. God forbid a child protection official notices Harry Potter in shabby clothes-you'll have a lot of trouble. And take charge of raising your son, Dudley. The child protection authorities will be checking, among other things, whether you're being too bad a parent. In the meantime, you're one of the worst guardians and could lose your parental rights at any moment. If your son misbehaves or hits other children, it will definitely be recorded in your personal file. And any bruises or other injuries Harry Potter has will be recorded, and it's unlikely they'll be able to prove you weren't the one who hit the boy. In that case, you could face jail time."
Vernon was scared and nodded in time with the policeman's words.
Richie realized he wasn't interested in this conversation. He discovered that the only people left in the room were the valet, the journalist, and Harry, who had come close to him.
"Hello, Harry," said Richard.
"Hello... uh... Lord," Potter answered uncertainly.
- Harry, you can call me Richie. We're the same age.
Harry's face lit up with a smile. He said with genuine gratitude:
- Thanks for helping!
"Please. I did what I had to. You know, buddy, one day you'll save humanity, maybe more than once."
"I... humanity?!" Potter's gaze was filled with bewilderment.
- Yes, you.
- Why did you decide so?
- You're a wizard, Harry!
A crooked smile adorned Potter's face.
- No, I'm just Harry. Harry Potter. Magic doesn't exist.
"You think you're just Harry. But you're wrong about the magic. Look."
Richie showed Harry his empty palms and then pulled a gold coin from behind his ear.
"Ha-ha!" Harry laughed heartily. "It's such a simple trick!"
"Simple, huh?!" Richard raised his right eyebrow. "And if so?"
A moment later, Richie was clutching an old, worn-out, holey sock in the fingers of his right hand.
Harry felt his right foot grow cool. He looked down and was surprised to discover that it was that foot that was missing its sock. Then he looked up at Richard and, upon closer inspection, recognized his sock, pinched between two toes. At that moment, you should have seen Potter's face; it displayed a surprising range of emotions: from happiness and belief in a miracle to absolute amazement.
"How did you do that?!" he asked.
"It's magic, Harry!" Richard said with a grin. "Abra-Cadabra, alley oops!"
Young Rich waved his sock, and it vanished. Harry realized he no longer felt the draft in his foot. The only surprising thing was-the socks were definitely not his. Previously, he had been wearing Dudley's old black socks, which had been too big for him and, besides, worn by time. Now he was wearing brand-new dark blue socks, which even looked very expensive. They even had a "G" monogram on them.
"Incredible!" Harry Potter whispered with delight. "Can I do that too?"
"Easy, Harry," Richie whispered, leaning close to the boy's ear. "In a couple of years, a giant alcoholic will come for you and give you a ticket to a school of magic and wizardry. There, they'll teach you how to use mutant powers. Just like in the X-Men comics."
"Um..." Harry was confused. "Is that really necessary? You mean, a giant alcoholic coming? It's just that my aunt and uncle don't like weirdos or alcoholics."
"For you, absolutely!" Richard declared with firm confidence. "You're the future savior of the world, Harry." Everyone else is usually visited by the prim-looking Scottish woman who works as the school's deputy headmistress.
"If the deputy headmistress comes to see everyone, who comes to see me? The Headmaster himself? Is he some kind of giant?"