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HRA# CHAPTER 121
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 02:55:26 +0000 UTCThe scene shifted, the forest morphing into rolling hills. The wooden sun stirred once more, casting its glow on three witches and a knight, arm in arm, descending the slope together.
“And so, the four of them lived happily for a very long time, never knowing, nor ever suspecting, that the waters of the Fountain of Good Fortune held no magic at all,” came Dumbledore’s voice, the old man leisurely delivering the final summary of the performance.
A deeply educational and perfectly standard fairy-tale ending.
As Dumbledore’s words faded, Harry clapped enthusiastically. Aunt Petunia’s applause was no less fervent than her son’s, and with their spirited clapping, even Uncle Vernon joined in.
“So, what was that?” Harry asked.
“The Fountain of Good Fortune, a wizard’s fairy tale,” Dumbledore said with a cheerful grin.
He clapped his hands, and the four tiny figures, along with the adventurous land and forest they stood upon, shrank rapidly in an instant. They transformed back into six sugar cubes that hopped onto the table.
“That was incredible, Harry. You’ve missed so much!” Dudley said, turning to Harry with an excited grin. “Is that magic? It’s just too cool! He only clapped his hands, and those sugar cubes turned into all that stuff—running, jumping, even talking!”
Dudley waved his hands animatedly, trying to convey through words and gestures what had just happened, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
“We couldn’t wait for you, so at Alfred’s insistence, we started eating,” Dumbledore said with a shrug. “You’ve got a remarkable house-elf, Harry. In his words, letting guests go hungry at the Potter estate would be a disgrace to your name, and he wouldn’t allow it.”
“Alfred’s right,” Harry said with a smile. “I’d feel guilty if you went hungry. And thank you, my great Headmaster, for putting on a perfect show for my family. My aunt loved it.”
It was true. After Dumbledore’s performance, Aunt Petunia’s applause had been even louder than Dudley’s, and even now, her face betrayed uncontainable excitement.
“Well, a bit,” Aunt Petunia said with restrained composure, though her smile betrayed her barely suppressed thrill. “I mean, it’s all quite interesting, isn’t it? Very magical, very fun. Dudley enjoyed it too.”
The Dursleys couldn’t grasp the deeper meaning behind Dumbledore’s display or the immense magical power he wielded, but they could at least appreciate the novelty. It was fun, and that was enough.
This was something no Muggle magic show could ever offer. Truthfully, they felt that what they’d seen and experienced today made the chaotic morning bus ride worthwhile.
…Worth it? Really?
At the thought, Uncle Vernon’s stomach churned, and that dizzy feeling crept back…
“So why didn’t Amata go to the Fountain of Good Fortune in the end?” Dudley asked suddenly, frowning.
“What do you think, my boy?” Dumbledore replied with a jovial smile, not answering directly.
“Because when she crossed that river at the start, Amata pulled out all the happy memories of her lost lover from her mind, and the river washed them away?” Dudley said, scratching his head. It was a tough question for him.
“But wasn’t she seeking the Fountain to ease her pain and longing?” Dudley added, looking troubled.
“Oh, my dear little Diddykins,” Aunt Petunia said fondly, gazing at her pondering son. “Is it possible that by discarding all those happy memories of her lover, she no longer felt pain or longing?”
“…Ah! Because all she had left was hatred and resentment!” Dudley exclaimed, as if a light bulb had gone off. “After a breakup, you just want the other person to die. That’s totally normal.”
Dumbledore’s smile froze, his expression stiffening.
What kind of talk was this?
Why did children these days have such insights?
“…Dear?” Aunt Petunia’s gaze sharpened as she turned to her husband, her voice deceptively soft.
“Er, good question,” Uncle Vernon said gravely, pretending not to notice his wife’s look. “Speaking of which, what’s the deal with that ending? The four of them—three witches and a knight—living happily for a long time. No hidden meaning, just curious.”
Dumbledore: “…”
“Haha, hahahahaha!” Harry burst into laughter, unable to contain himself. He rarely saw such an expression on Dumbledore’s face—something akin to speechlessness.
For both Harry and the Dursleys, today was a profoundly significant and unique day.
For the first time, Harry hosted the Dursleys in his home. For the first time, the Dursleys clearly realized that their nephew had grown up. Everyone could see that Harry desperately wanted to return to his own home.
Over the past eleven years, they had bluntly told Harry countless times that he was an unwelcome burden. Yet, when that burden was truly about to leave their family, the Dursleys felt a subtle, complex mix of emotions.
Reluctance? Perhaps a little.
Maybe also the relief of shedding a burden, the reassurance that neighbors wouldn’t discover their household’s oddities, and a touch of fondness for Alfred. Though they’d only enjoyed Alfred’s service for a single day, every Dursley had grown attached to the comfort and ease he provided.
The complexity of human emotions is hard to capture in simple words.
Alfred had already tidied the guest rooms. Tonight, the Dursleys would stay here—in a wizard’s manor they had always viewed with hostility and fear, in a village filled with wizards.
As if indulging a childhood fantasy, Aunt Petunia wandered through the ancient manor, accompanied cautiously by her husband. Dudley, by contrast, was far bolder, charging about recklessly.
Thankfully, Alfred kept a discreet eye on them, so Harry didn’t worry about their safety.
What surprised Harry was that even his difficult aunt and her family chose to stay the night. Dumbledore, however, insisted on leaving, no matter how much Harry invited him to stay.
“I thought staying over at a friend’s house was normal,” Harry joked, standing at the garden gate.
The Potter estate’s garden was in disrepair, neglected and cluttered with junk cleared from the house. It looked more like a scrapyard than a garden. Alfred couldn’t even bear to glance out the window—one look, and his house-elf pride would shatter, urging him to bash his head against the wall. Harry had to order him to stop punishing himself.
“You see, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a wry smile, “when you reach my age, you’ll understand how many inconveniences come with being a centenarian. Thank you for the invitation. If you ever host a tauren-themed feast here, you must invite me.”
“Me cooking?” Harry asked.
“Yes, it has to be you cooking,” Dumbledore said with a playful wink. “Truthfully, sometimes I dream about the taste of those dishes.”
“Better not eat your pillow then,” Harry chuckled.
They both laughed for a moment.
“By the way, is there a way to restrict house-elves’ Apparition?” Harry asked suddenly. “The Anti-Apparition Charm only works on wizards. That’s not secure enough.”
“It’s possible,” Dumbledore said, slightly surprised. “I can find the spell and send it to you, but are you sure? If you cast it on your house, Alfred won’t be able to appear instantly when you call.”
As Harry had suspected, wizards deliberately excluded house-elves from Anti-Apparition Charms for convenience.
“That’s exactly what I want,” Harry said earnestly. “I don’t know if Fawkes told you how I met Alfred—back when he was called Dobby. But I don’t want another strange house-elf popping into my life, Apparating in and out, with me powerless to stop it.”
“Oh, in that case…” Dumbledore mused. “What you need is a different spell. It allows only house-elves you permit to Apparate freely in and out of your home.”
“Really?” Harry said, pleasantly surprised. “That sounds perfect.”
The spell was ideal. Truthfully, Harry felt that completely restricting Apparition in the house would be unfair to Alfred, as it would drastically increase his workload and fatigue.
“Of course,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “I’ll send you both spells, and you can choose. So, you’re really planning to settle here?”
As he spoke, Dumbledore glanced at the Potter estate.
“Pretty much,” Harry explained. “I plan to invite my aunt and uncle to stay for a few days each holiday. That way, I’m living with blood relatives at home for a while. You don’t need to worry about the protection my mother’s magic left on me fading.”
“It seems you’ve thought this through,” Dumbledore said, nodding slightly. “Honestly, Harry, before today, I couldn’t have imagined you getting along so well with your aunt’s family. I’m surprised—very surprised.”
He repeated himself.
Perhaps pleased would’ve been the right word, but it felt too patronizing for a friend, so Dumbledore left it unsaid.
“It’s not that hard,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Whether it’s Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon, the reasons they couldn’t get along with me were few. Address those, and it’s easily resolved.”
“You’re right, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “But often, people know what’s right yet never act on it… for all sorts of reasons.”
“Sounds like you didn’t get along well with your own family,” Harry said keenly, catching the stiffening of Dumbledore’s smile.
He considered mentioning the name he’d seen in the church graveyard but decided against it.
“…Ouch, your intuition’s a bit too sharp, Harry,” Dumbledore muttered. “I suspect you don’t want to hear an old man’s lectures, so I’ll shut up now. Goodbye!”
As if shooing him away, Dumbledore gently pushed Harry toward the Potter estate, saying he wanted to walk alone. Considering that name and their location in Godric’s Hollow, Harry didn’t press further. After a farewell, he headed inside.
Standing on the cobblestone street, Dumbledore surveyed his surroundings. As midnight approached, some houses in Godric’s Hollow had dimmed their lights, while others still glowed brightly, their open windows spilling lively chatter into the night.
He saw Harry enter the Potter estate. In the flickering shadows cast by the lights, Harry seemed to settle in the living room by the window. Alfred drew the curtains.
Shrugging, Dumbledore tucked his hands into his robes, studying the house before him, transformed by the night. For years, his memory of this place had been frozen as a ruin.
Now, even from the outside, it felt alive again. The ruinous state was gone, the overgrown ivy and wild plants vanished, and even the holes in the roof—ones he’d patched himself—were no more.
Thinking of his laborious life over the past year, Dumbledore let out a deep sigh. Why had things turned out this way?
Since when had the name Dumbledore been tied to manual labor?
Was that reasonable?
Another sigh followed.
Ever since this boy entered the wizarding world, many things had far exceeded Dumbledore’s expectations, with countless unseen currents stirring in the background.
Dumbledore had tried another approach, but Harry Potter’s responses always left him hesitant, unsure whether to react more decisively or turn a blind eye. In the end, he chose to let things be.
Or rather, he had no choice but to let them be.
Years ago, when Dumbledore first met Tom—later Voldemort—he was astonished by the boy’s innate magical talent, able to cast small spells even before Hogwarts.
That was precisely what worried him. In Tom, he saw a handsome face and polished manners, intelligence and maturity beyond his years, but no empathy for others, only a strong desire for control, superiority, and power.
Back then, Dumbledore had used his own formidable magic to suppress Tom’s cleverness, ordering him to return stolen items to their owners. It was a decision he later regretted. Had he taken a kinder, guiding approach, might Tom have followed a different path?
By overpowering a weaker individual with superior magic, Dumbledore had inadvertently taught Tom that magic equaled might.
Decades later, when Harry entered Hogwarts and revealed his peculiarities, Dumbledore had pondered deeply. He considered whether to treat Harry as he had young Tom.
He wasn’t thinking of overpowering Harry with magic but of reining him in, controlling him. At the time, Harry had shown too much independence, even recklessness, which Dumbledore found alarming. But he soon abandoned the idea.
Compared to Tom, Harry was… too powerful.
In the first lesson of the Shamanic Priests’ Club, the four elemental giants that appeared each rivaled the height of Gryffindor Tower, their power far beyond an ordinary wizard’s limits.
In Dumbledore’s estimation, defeating even one such giant would require the coordinated effort of a hundred wizards, with heavy casualties.
Yet Harry could summon four at once.
Though Harry claimed the four elements had their own wills and fought each other as part of his lesson, Dumbledore couldn’t help but wonder: was this a display of strength?
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
Comments
Himi Tsu
Apologies for the naming mistake, and thank you very much for your comment.
WarPig Legion
Where did Winky come from. What happened to Alfred?
