Chapter 10: Definitely Next Time

"My friends, for so many years, under the influence of the Ministry of Magic, I have been like a prisoner."

"A prisoner with blinded eyes, lost, and condemned as an arch-villain!"

"Yet, what have I actually done? I do not even know what I am accused of."

"In these circumstances, I became synonymous with greed and cunning, a mere scapegoat."

"All these years, those of like mind have shared the same fate."

"In truth, we need not live in darkness forever; suffering is not a virtue to be praised."

"And so, when I decided to take up my wand, it became the turning point of my life."

"From that moment on, I saw our true enemy."

"That is right—it is them, the pure-blood families. They are there, and they have always been there."

"Our words tonight will soon be forgotten, but everything we do will live forever."

Harry looked at his own arm, finding himself raising it just like the others.

But—

Looking through a mirror by the street, he found himself somewhat strange.

Why was his adult self... a muscular powerhouse?

And what was that rectangular iron object in his hand?

...

The next day.

Harry woke up very late.

This might have been related to the sip of butterbeer he had accidentally consumed the night before, though he remained unaware of it.

"It is a dream within a dream," he told himself with certainty. "I dreamed of a man named Professor Morris, who told me I was a clever child and that I would attend a school of magic. Then I followed him to a pub, and in the dream, I imagined myself as a muscular powerhouse."

"As soon as I open my eyes, I’ll be back home, in the cupboard under the stairs."

After steeling his nerves, Harry snapped his eyes open.

What met his gaze was a large room (at least compared to his cupboard). Through the slightly grimy windowpane, the daylight was already bright, and the noisy sounds of people drifted up from the street.

Harry rolled over, staring at the ceiling in a daze.

He was not yet used to waking up anywhere other than the cupboard. Only as his consciousness slowly returned did he recall what had happened yesterday—the existence of magic, the strange praise...

"It was all real!"

Harry sat up immediately and looked down at his feet.

There lay a package, given to him by Professor Morris yesterday as a birthday gift, with instructions to open it in private.

"A birthday gift..." Harry repeated in a whisper, reaching out to pull the package onto his lap.

It was meticulously wrapped and tied with a beautiful deep green ribbon.

The package was small but felt heavy. Harry did not know what was inside, only feeling a faint warmth against his palm.

He glanced around, confirming he was alone in the room, then carefully untied the ribbon and unwrapped the outer layer.

Inside was a small wooden box.

There was a lock on the box, along with a note.

The note read:

This is a toy called "The Cage Star." If you solve it, you will get a password to open the wooden box, which contains a gift I believe is important for you.

(P.S. I have cast a spell on the wooden box; opening it by force will damage the contents.)

Beneath the wooden box was the "Cage Star" toy, and another box without a lock.

He opened it gently to find a golden pocket watch. The hands on the face were moving slowly, each second ticking with absolute precision.

"Is this for me?" Harry whispered to himself, his heart filled with surprise and emotion.

Just as he was lost in thought, there was a knock at the door.

"Mr. Potter, are you awake?"

"I'm awake!" Harry responded hurriedly, quickly stuffing the pocket watch into his pocket and tucking the "Cage Star" and the wooden box into the package against his chest.

"Then, get ready; it is time to go."

"Right away!"

When Harry opened the door, he was surprised to find a little girl standing beside Professor Morris.

She looked to be about his age, with a bushy mop of brown hair and noticeably prominent front teeth. Her expression was one of curiosity and vigilance.

"Mr. Potter, this is Miss Hermione Granger," Morris noted Harry's gaze and introduced her calmly. "She is also a first-year student at Hogwarts this year. I believe you will soon be classmates."

While Harry had been sleeping, he had gone to pick up Hermione.

Morris had always enjoyed interacting with those who could be called "children of the plane."

Because...

Compared to picking up Harry, picking up Hermione was much easier.

After he revealed his identity, the Grangers had warmly invited him inside, and Mr. Granger had kept asking him for information about wizards.

"Wizards are just like ordinary people, only they possess greater power," Morris had said.

To convince them, Morris had even presented the gifts he had prepared for Hermione and Mr. Granger—two copies of *A History of Magic*, published by Obscurus Books and hailed as the "Encyclopedia of the Wizarding World."

Hermione had started reading the book the moment she received it and did not stop until she walked into the Leaky Cauldron (likely because the atmosphere of the pub was not very conducive to reading).

Originally, the Grangers had wanted to come along (mostly because Mr. Granger wanted to see the wizarding life), but Morris had politely declined, citing that "the child is growing up and needs to get used to living without relying on her parents."

He already had his hands full with two children; he really did not want to add any unnecessary tasks to his load.

"Next time, certainly," he had said upon leaving.

"Hello," the little girl spoke first. Her voice was clear but paced rather quickly. "I just saw your name in a book, Harry Potter, right? It is a pleasure to meet you; I am Hermione Granger."

"Er... hello." Harry responded, feeling slightly awkward. He was not yet used to the sensation of someone "having seen his name," especially when being watched so intently by a child his own age.

"Good, now that everyone has been introduced," Morris broke the silence, scanning the two of them with a calm expression. "We should head to Diagon Alley. Miss Granger has just arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, and today I will lead you both through your respective school preparations."

"Diagon Alley?" Hermione’s eyes lit up instantly. She said excitedly, "I just read a description of it in a book! They say it has every magical item a wizard could need! I need to buy textbooks, and a wand. Before leaving, Mum said I could pick out a cat. What do you think about cats?"

Harry was caught off guard by her enthusiasm and could only nod. "Er... cats are fine."

Morris glanced down at Harry, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger has already begun to understand this world. I hope you can get used to it soon as well."

With that, he turned and headed for the stairs, signaling them to follow.

The morning pub was much quieter than the night before, with a few people still slumped over tables, dozing off as if they had overindulged the previous evening.

Tom, the pub landlord, was wiping down the counter and beamed when he saw them pass.

"Morris, Mr. Potter, good morning! Would you like some breakfast?"

"Next time, certainly."

This was the second time today Morris had said that phrase.

Oh, and there was a strange young man in the corner. Harry had only noticed him when he stood up.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger," Morris smiled and led the two of them over to the young man. "Quickly, say hello to your Professor Quirrell. Barring any surprises, he will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in the new term."

"Po-Po-Potter," Quirrell stuttered, "pleased to meet you."

"Professor, hello! Is there any material we should preview for Defense Against the Dark Arts this semester?"

Hermione, who had come to Harry's rescue, asked Quirrell with great interest.

Quirrell was clearly startled by Hermione’s sudden question. He recoiled abruptly, a look of panic flashing across his face.

His eyes darted between Hermione and Harry, and his voice retained that stammering tone: "Er, er... pre-preview? Er... actually, there is no need to preview too much, er... you only need to have some understanding of the basic history of the Dark Arts, er, and, and the simplest protective spells will suffice..."

Hermione’s eyes brightened at once. "Protective spells? Such as which ones?"

Quirrell’s hand subconsciously tightened around the purple turban that seemed a bit too large for him, appearing overwhelmed by Hermione's enthusiasm. "Er, er... for example... for example, 'Expelliarmus,' er, also known as the Disarming Charm, er, very, very practical..."

"And what is the magical principle behind that spell?" Hermione continued, full of curiosity. "I read in *A History of Magic* that it only says the principles of spell-casting date back a long time."

Quirrell’s face turned even paler. He stammered, "Er, this, this... the principle... er, when school starts, er, I, I will explain it in detail..."

Professor Morris glanced at Quirrell, who was clearly struggling to breathe under Hermione’s interrogation, and a nearly imperceptible smile curved his lips.

He reached out and patted Hermione gently on the shoulder, saying in a calm tone: "Miss Granger, asking questions is a good habit for learning, but one must also know the right time for it. You will have plenty of time to learn about these things in the future. How about giving your professor some time to prepare?"

Hermione froze for a moment, her cheeks flushing slightly, but she stepped back politely. "I’m sorry, Professor, I was just too curious."

Quirrell breathed a sigh of relief and managed a strained smile. "It, it’s alright, Mi-Miss Granger... curiosity is, is a good thing."

Standing to the side, Harry watched the scene, finding Hermione’s questions admirable while simultaneously feeling her enthusiasm a bit overwhelming.

He cast a secret glance at Professor Morris and noticed the man seemed to be observing Quirrell closely.

"Well then," Morris clapped his hands lightly, breaking the slightly awkward atmosphere. "Professor Quirrell, we shall not disturb you any further. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, we still have much to do."

"Er, er... y-yes, of course," Quirrell nodded like a pecking chicken. "Ve-very nice to meet you, er, I hope you have a... wonderful time in Diagon Alley!"

After passing through the bar, Hermione remained eager. "Professor, I think Professor Quirrell seems very nervous. Is this his first time teaching?"

Morris smiled slightly, his tone enigmatic. "Perhaps, Miss Granger. But there is one thing you must remember in the wizarding world—what things appear to be is often not the truth."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"You will slowly come to understand when you get to Hogwarts," Morris said dismissively, then turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, do you remember that turban from earlier?"

"The turban?" Harry nodded. "Professor Quirrell didn't seem to take it off."

"Good, remember that," Morris said calmly. He said no more, leading them onward toward Diagon Alley.

In the small, walled courtyard.

There was nothing here except a trash can and some weeds.

Just as Harry was feeling confused, he saw Professor Morris tap a specific brick on the wall three times with his wand, then turn to smile at the two of them.

"Welcome to the wizarding world."