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HRA# CHAPTER 115
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 18:50:41 +0000 UTC“House-elf,” Harry added. “Is there a problem? I thought you all quite liked him.”
“Of course,” Uncle Vernon nodded repeatedly. “As long as no outsiders find out, I mean—er, what I’m trying to say is… where can we hire one? A house-elf, I mean. They’re far better than any nanny or servant. Those people are always so…”
Uncle Vernon muttered a string of rather unpleasant words, mostly curses aimed at others.
The Dursley family had hired nannies and servants in the past, but none lasted more than a month before being sacked.
Perhaps those hires had their own issues, but Harry wouldn’t claim with a clear conscience that the Dursleys were blameless. It was, frankly, quite difficult for a normal nanny to survive in this household.
It seemed only a creature like a house-elf could satisfy Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon without a single complaint.
It was clear that Dobby’s diligence and his critical role in sealing a major business deal today had even made Uncle Vernon temporarily set aside his disdain for the wizarding world. He was now keen on getting a house-elf for their own home.
After all, Alfred’s constant “Master Harry” remarks made his allegiance clear, and Harry had already stated his intention to return to the Potter family’s old manor in Godric’s Hollow—a move Uncle Vernon rather supported.
“I’m afraid it’s difficult, Uncle,” Harry said after a moment’s thought. “Even in the wizarding world, house-elves are extremely rare. They’re typically only found in ancient wizarding families with centuries of history. I only got Alfred by a stroke of luck.”
Indeed, it was quite the fluke. Even Alfred hadn’t expected that his simple desire to protect Harry Potter would somehow turn him into Harry Potter’s house-elf.
“Oh, well,” Uncle Vernon said, visibly disappointed. His gaze flickered between the top of Harry’s head and Alfred, and he suddenly asked, “So, when your contract with him ends, could we—”
“Alfred serves only Master Harry!” Alfred, overhearing the conversation, cut Uncle Vernon off with a shrill cry. His wide eyes glared at Vernon as if he were an enemy. “Alfred is the Potter family’s steward! Forever!”
Harry shrugged, saying nothing.
All Uncle Vernon could do was let out a loud sigh… and even Aunt Petunia, trailing behind, couldn’t help but sigh as well.
“You’re one lucky lad!” Uncle Vernon said loudly, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Anyway, let’s get inside! It’s still early!”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, slightly puzzled. “Are we expecting guests tonight?”
“Er, not exactly guests,” Uncle Vernon said, his words halting as he seemed to struggle for the right phrasing. “I mean, it’s never happened before. It’s new… er, Petunia?”
After a string of odd remarks, Uncle Vernon reached the living room and abruptly turned to call for his wife.
“Of course,” Aunt Petunia said, her lips pursed. Harry was certain he saw a reserved, subtle smile on her face. “You’ve probably forgotten, Harry, but today is your birthday.”
Birthday.
In a flash, Harry understood why Alfred had sneakily used an onion to signal the contents of the fridge.
“Technically, it’s tomorrow, after midnight,” Uncle Vernon added suddenly. “But we’re heading to that valley tomorrow, aren’t we? Early start, early return. Honestly, I can’t wait to see the new holiday villa.”
“No problem,” Harry said, breaking into a smile. “Thank you. I’m really happy.”
How strange. Even in his second year back in this world, after celebrating birthdays for Hermione and others, Harry still hadn’t connected his own birthday in this world to himself.
It wasn’t surprising. In Harry’s memories, everything tied to the word “birthday” happened in Azeroth, surrounded by kind elders, friends, or comrades… though sometimes in the midst of enemies, which wasn’t exactly pleasant.
As for this world… his memories were nearly blank. The only faint recollection was whispering birthday wishes to himself in the cupboard under the stairs after the clock struck midnight—fragments long forgotten.
But that was a long time ago. Now, Harry was certain that when the sun rose tomorrow morning, gifts from friends and supporters would be piled high by his bedside.
Assuming no second Alfred intercepted his mail.
“…As your uncle said, we have other plans tomorrow,” Aunt Petunia said, striding toward the fridge. She pulled out a raspberry cake. “So, after some discussion, we decided to celebrate early. You don’t mind, do you?”
The cake was decent, not as grand as the ones for Dudley, but big enough for four. It was laden with fruit.
“Of course not,” Harry said, glancing at his cousin. “Do I need to blow out candles?”
Though they’d already eaten plenty at dinner, Dudley was eyeing the cake hungrily.
“Er, hang on,” Dudley said, swallowing hard. He bolted upstairs, then thundered back down, clutching something large, which he shoved into Harry’s arms. “Birthday present!”
“…A gaming console?” Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Super Nintendo!” Dudley said proudly, already cutting himself a slice of cake. “I read your letters. I can’t believe that with all the fun magic stuff, wizards have so few entertainment options—and they’re all boring. You’ve got to try the unbeatable The Legend of Zelda. No need to thank me.”
Harry pulled out the cartridge from the console. It featured a green-clad figure with a shield, standing beside a stylish sword embedded in a stone.
The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past.
“Maybe because magic itself is fun enough,” Harry said with a playful shrug. “Thanks, I’ll give it a go.”
The variety and excitement of Muggle entertainment far surpassed anything in the wizarding world.
“You’d better get a girlfriend first,” Dudley said casually, munching on cake. “I’ve already been through three, Harry. Don’t fall too far behind.”
“Oh, my little Diddy, always so popular,” Aunt Petunia said, her face beaming with pride. She rushed over and kissed Dudley’s cheek. “Didn’t I tell you? Slim down a bit, and no girl can resist your charm.”
At this, Uncle Vernon chuckled, clearly proud of Dudley’s frequent girlfriend changes. He even bragged about it to others whenever he got the chance.
As for Harry… well, he found British kids in this environment a bit too mature for their age, which made things feel odd.
Except for the part about letting kids drink early—that he could get behind.
Harry had initially asked Jaina to send slimming potions to help the Dursleys stay healthy and avoid obesity-related illnesses. He hadn’t expected Dudley to transform like this after slimming down.
Beyond Dudley’s gift, Harry received birthday presents from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia for the first time. Vernon gave him a wristwatch, while Petunia’s gift was a hand-knitted scarf. Harry tried it on; the stitches were tight, and the pattern was lovely.
Even Jaina got a gift—handmade owl treats from Petunia, which she adored.
Oh, and Harry also received a request from the pair: more slimming potions and beauty elixirs.
The beauty elixirs, in particular, had made Petunia the talk of the ladies’ circle, greatly aiding Vernon’s business ventures.
No wonder Harry noticed such a drastic change in the Dursleys upon returning for the holidays.
But Harry didn’t mind. Even the closest relationships needed effort to maintain… and this was fine.
It was a wonderful evening. When Harry was woken the next morning by Jaina pecking at her cage, he found, as expected, a mountain of gifts by his bedside.
From his friends, from Hogwarts students, from supporters across Britain… Harry knocked on Dudley’s door, and Dudley was thrilled to join in unwrapping presents—on the condition that Harry gave him all the wizard sweets and pastries.
Two words: Deal.
Hermione sent Harry a brand-new dental care kit, Ron gifted a new set of Wizard’s Chess, and Neville’s present was a book, likely dug up from his family’s collection—Origins of Wizardkind.
It wasn’t about magical theory or family spells but rather a record of wizarding history and speculations. Harry thought it would make an interesting read.
His friends included letters urging him to visit their homes soon. Honestly, Harry was a bit overwhelmed—his holiday schedule was already packed.
After some thought, Harry scribbled a quick note, tied it to Jaina’s leg, and the owl shot out the window.
A letter for Rita Skeeter.
Harry decided to test the mettle of this self-important journalist once more. If she couldn’t prove useful, perhaps it was time to silence her. Harry felt that letting Dumbledore’s prestige be eroded was a waste, both for Hogwarts and the wizarding world.
After a breakfast meticulously prepared by Alfred, Harry and the Dursleys stood at the front door, ready to travel—by magical means.
For the Dursleys, this was a bold step and a grand experiment.
Harry had researched the wizarding world’s public transport systems. The most prominent was Apparition, which allowed witches and wizards to travel freely and discreetly to any destination.
Besides Apparition, Floo Powder was the most trusted method, but it required a fireplace connected to the Floo Network, managed by the Ministry of Magic. As a purely Muggle household, the Dursleys’ fireplace wasn’t linked.
So, Harry found another, more flexible option: the Knight Bus. It was supposedly inspired by Muggle transport to meet the needs of underage witches and wizards or those too frail to travel otherwise.
Given the Knight Bus’s purpose, Harry figured his aunt and uncle would appreciate the “safe and discreet” aspect.
The only odd thing was the book’s description of the Knight Bus. The author had praised it effusively, including glowing testimonials from passengers.
Uniformly positive reviews.
Comments like, “Smooth arrival, astonishing reliability, anywhere in Britain, they’ll get you there accurately,” “Every British wizard must ride the Knight Bus at least once, or their life is incomplete,” and “Highly recommend, will choose again next time…” It all sounded quite dependable.
“Are you sure just standing here is enough, lad?” Uncle Vernon asked, standing ramrod straight, trying not to look around. The morning air was cool, but sweat was already beading on his forehead. “We don’t need to do anything? Are you sure you’ve got enough money for tickets? I don’t even know if they take pounds.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” Aunt Petunia said, clutching Vernon’s arm. She looked nervous too, but she was handling it better than her husband. “Wizards use a different currency, don’t they? It’ll be fine, right, Harry?”
Her question was directed at Harry—for the fourth time.
As for Dudley… the boy looked ready to take flight himself.
“More than enough,” Harry replied confidently. He couldn’t imagine any bus fare costing hundreds of Galleons. “Everyone, relax. You’ve all ridden a double-decker bus, right? The book says the Knight Bus was adapted from Muggle buses.”
“The book says?” Uncle Vernon whipped his head around, his small eyes now wide. “You mean you’ve never ridden it either, lad?”
“I thought you knew, Uncle,” Harry said, feigning innocence. “I only learned about the wizarding world last year.”
They stared at each other for two seconds.
“It’ll be fine,” Harry added. “The Knight Bus was created for underage wizards and the frail. It’s been around since 1865, over a century of history. It’s passed the test of time. Just raise your wand and stand by the road, and it’ll appear at top speed for any wizard needing to travel.”
“…That does make some sense,” Uncle Vernon muttered, somewhat mollified.
He did trust things that had stood the test of time over newer inventions.
“Something’s coming!” Dudley shouted excitedly.
His voice was slower than the bus’s arrival. By the time he got the first word out, the vehicle had already screeched to a halt before them.
It was a vibrant purple triple-decker bus, its exterior not unlike the Muggle triple-deckers Harry had described. The only difference was the bold golden letters on the massive windshield: Knight Bus.
But that wasn’t the point. The point was that the bus looked like it had just leapt out of one of Dudley’s favorite comics. It was dynamic—its lower half screeched to a halt, while the upper half seemed to overshoot, jutting forward before snapping back like a giant jelly, wobbling side to side a few times.
“…Are you sure this thing’s safe, lad?” Uncle Vernon whispered.
Harry’s response was swift.
“Trust history.”
Believe. It’s all trustworthy.
“Welcome to the Knight Bus! Emergency transport for stranded witches and wizards. Just stick out your wand, step aboard, and we’ll take you wherever you want to go. I’m Stan Shunpike, your conductor—”
Stan rattled off the spiel as if he’d memorized it backward, his rapid-fire delivery fit for commentating the most thrilling Quidditch match without missing a beat.
As sunlight filtered through the bus’s translucent windows, Harry and the Dursleys glimpsed the interior: several brass bed frames lined the compartment, draped with deep purple sheets. Purple curtains with golden star embroidery hung by the windows.
“—and this is Ern Prang, our driver. So, where to, folks?”
As Harry and the others scrutinized the Knight Bus, Stan, ever the professional, finished his standard greeting for new passengers.
On the other side…
“Trust history?” That was Uncle Vernon.
“Emergency transport?” That was Aunt Petunia.
“Why didn’t it fly down from the sky?” That was Dudley.
“Destination: Godric’s Hollow. Two adults, two kids. Any ticket discounts?” That was Harry.
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
Comments
Vick
Aaaaaand it's gone. All the goodwill built by Vernon for the wizarding world will be gone after this bus travel.
