As soon as Ron finished speaking, everyone's eyes instantly focused on Harry's forehead with intensity.
The sudden scrutiny made Harry acutely uncomfortable, and he shifted in his seat under so many stares. Even the twins stopped their usual joking, their expressions became serious and alert as they leaned forward to examine the famous scar.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, instinctively raising his left hand to touch the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. "Is something not right? Does it look strange?"
"Don't move your hand, let me take a closer look," Ron insisted, batting Harry's hand away from his forehead with an impatient gesture.
He leaned in even closer, squinting hard, his face mere inches from Harry's as he studied the scar with intense concentration. His brow furrowed deeply as he tried to identify exactly what had changed.
"I can't quite put my finger on it precisely... it just feels different from before somehow."
Hermione quickly took out a small compact mirror from the little bag she always carried with her. She flipped it open with a gesture and handed it over to Harry.
"Here, see for yourself," She said briskly, though her eyes also showed concern. "That's the easiest way to tell."
Harry took the mirror and examined his forehead from various angles, tilting his head this way and that. The mirror was small, forcing him to adjust his position repeatedly to see the scar clearly.
The familiar lightning-bolt shape was still clearly etched on his skin.
However...
"It's faded a bit, hasn't it?" His tone was slightly uncertain, questioning, as he continued to stare at his reflection with growing confusion.
Although this scar had been a permanent fixture on his forehead for his entire life, had been the first thing people noticed about him for fifteen years, he actually rarely examined it closely or paid it much attention.
It was just... there. He'd learned to ignore it as much as possible, despite how others stared at it constantly.
"Yes, it has definitely faded," Ron nodded, stating with absolute certainty and conviction, "I'm completely sure it's lighter than it was. I see your face every day, mate—I'd notice a change like this."
Adrian, standing in the doorway narrowed his eyes as he studied Harry's scar from his position.
Honestly, from where he stood, he couldn't see any obvious change at all. The scar looked identical to how it had appeared yesterday, last week, all year.
However...
Since Ron, who spent literally every day with Harry and probably saw his face more than anyone else except perhaps Hermione, thought the scar had changed, thought it with such certainty and conviction, then perhaps some subtle but real change had indeed occurred.
Adrian pondered for a moment, his expression becoming more serious and thoughtful, and silently communicated with the Tree of Wisdom.
[I still feel evil aura emanating from the boy, Sir,]
After receiving this reassuring information from the Tree of Wisdom, Adrian relaxed slightly.
Harry's condition was no different from before.
This was actually a good thing, indicating that everything was still under control.
Adrian was now more worried about the possibility of Voldemort's soul fragment suddenly disappearing from Harry's forehead, vanishing without any warning or preparation. That would be catastrophic.
After all, that parasitic soul fragment had become deeply, perhaps inseparably bound to Harry over fifteen years. It had grown with him, intertwined with his own magic and consciousness where they didn't fully understand it.
If it were suddenly separated, it might even threaten Harry's life.
After hearing Ron's confident judgment, Harry unconsciously ran his hand over his forehead repeatedly.
He turned his gaze toward Adrian, his eyes carrying a trace of noticeable worry and deeply suppressed fear.
Adrian caught that worried look immediately, reading the anxiety in Harry's expression, and spoke gently, "Don't worry, Harry. From what I can observe, this change hasn't brought any negative effects whatsoever. You're not in danger."
He paused, choosing his next words with care, wanting to be honest without causing unnecessary panic.
"The reasons for the scar's change could be quite complex and multiple: perhaps related to the natural growth of your own magical power as you mature and become stronger, or connected to your recent traumatic experiences.
Severe trauma sometimes triggers changes in magical signatures. The loss of your arm, the regeneration, the exposure to those dark curses—any of those could have affected the scar's appearance. But in any case, staying vigilant and alert is good. Awareness is protection."
His expression became more serious, more intense, as he locked eyes with Harry.
"Remember this, Harry, and remember it well: if your scar shows any abnormality—and I mean any at all, no matter how minor it seems—don't hide it from me or anyone else, don't puzzle over it alone, don't try to handle it yourself. Tell me immediately. The same day, the same hour if possible. Promise me this."
"Yes, Professor," Harry responded obediently, nodding with obvious sincerity. "I promise. I'll tell you right away if anything changes."
He naturally knew just how troublesome and dangerous the scar on his forehead really was. Professor Dumbledore and Westeros both had explained some of it, and he'd pieced together more from experience and observation.
In matters that could directly endanger his life or the lives of others, matters of genuine life-and-death importance, he would never hide anything or try to be independent.
Moreover, Adrian was the person he trusted most in the world besides Dumbledore, perhaps even more than Dumbledore.
"Very good," Adrian nodded with approval, satisfied with Harry's mature response and his willingness to ask for help. "Have a pleasant journey, everyone. Enjoy your summer, and stay safe. All of you."
He directed this last part to all the occupants of the compartment.
With a final nod, he slid the door closed and moved on to continue his patrol with Moody, leaving the friends to their discussions.
The train arrived at King's Cross station smoothly and without any incidents, pulling into Platform 9¾ right on schedule.
There were no attacks, no Death Eaters appearances, and no emergencies. Just a normal, boring train journey, which was exactly what everyone had desperately hoped for. The professors disembarked with visible relief, and students poured out onto the platform in a chattering mass, greeting waiting parents and guardians with enthusiasm.
With a single, smooth Apparition, Adrian took Harry directly back to Number 4, Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey.
Since Harry had been away from the Dursleys for the most part of the year, he needed to stay at Privet Drive for at least a few nights to properly "recharge" the ancient blood protection magic.
When Vernon Dursley answered the door and saw the two of them standing on his doorstep, the wizard and the nephew he despised in equal amount—his face immediately turned bright red, flushing from his thick neck up to his bald head like an overinflated balloon.
His eyes bulged alarmingly, and a vein pulsed at his temple. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and for a moment he looked like he might explode or have a stroke or both simultaneously.
He was clearly furious enough to shout, to curse, and to slam the door in their faces, but he had to maintain his composure and control himself in front of Adrian—who knew what dangerous and unnatural things this wizard might do if properly provoked?
"How much longer do I have to endure this... this thing in my house?"
Finally, he managed to force the words out through gritted teeth, his jaw was so tight the muscles jumped in his face.
Adrian shrugged carelessly, looking utterly unbothered by Vernon's hostility, and answered with perfect calmness and a smile that probably infuriated Vernon further: "About three more years, Mr. Dursley. Just three more summers. When the time comes, when Harry reaches adulthood and the protection is no longer necessary, Harry will also give you a gift as compensation for 'raising' him all these years."
The emphasis on "raising" was subtle, carrying an undertone of irony that Vernon probably caught but couldn't challenge.
"I'd rather go bankrupt than take..." Vernon muttered in a low voice under his breath.
Harry shrank his neck instinctively on the side.
Although Vernon could no longer do anything to him now, the shadow of all those years wasn't so easily dispelled.
And besides... this hostile homecoming had almost become an annual routine.
Every single time Harry returned to the Dursleys after a year at Hogwarts, Vernon would become extremely sensitive and irritable—this aggressive mood would last for several days at minimum, sometimes weeks.
All Harry could realistically do was avoid the Dursleys as much as possible during his stay, minimize any interaction with them, stay in his room.
When Adrian finally left the Dursley house after ensuring Harry was settled and after delivering a few subtle but unmistakable warnings to Vernon about treating the boy properly, the sky had completely darkened into full night.
The last remnants of twilight had faded from the western horizon, and stars were beginning to appear in the summer sky.
The streetlights along both sides of Privet Drive lit up one by one with soft clicks, casting small pools of yellowish light that barely lit the road ahead.
Adrian walked alone on the quiet, empty street, surrounded by the particular tranquility unique to a Muggle neighborhood at night. Everything was still and peaceful, with only the occasional distant sound of car engines somewhere in the surrounding streets.
As Adrian approached his own shop, several people passed by him on the pavement, walking in the opposite direction.
They were two men wearing dark-colored, heavy trench coats that seemed far too warm for the summer evening, their collars turned up high to cover their necks and lower faces, almost covering half their faces. Their hat brims were pulled down low over their eyes.
They walked hurriedly, their heads down, hands thrust deep in their pockets, seemingly just ordinary pedestrians passing by pure chance. They showed no hesitation or recognition as they crossed paths with Adrian.
This getup...
Adrian didn't believe for a second there was nothing wrong with it, nothing suspicious about their appearance.
Normal people didn't dress like that for an evening stroll in suburban Surrey.
Moreover, a trace of extremely faint magical fluctuation like a stone dropped into still water, was captured by his keen perception.
"!"
Adrian casually looked back over his shoulder. But the end of the street behind him was completely empty now.
Probably Apparition, executed the moment they'd turned the corner and broken line of sight. The crack of air would have been masked by distance and ambient noise.
Who were those two people?
Were they coming specifically for him? Or were they here for Harry?
Adrian wouldn't naively think that normal wizards would come to wander around this particular ordinary Muggle neighborhood, coincidentally dressed in clothing deliberately designed to conceal their faces and identities.
This was definitely not a coincidence.
Coincidences like that didn't happen in Adrian's experience.
For anyone in the magical world, the only special thing about Privet Drive was that it was Harry Potter's sanctuary.
And very, very few people knew this specific information about where Harry lived.
Adrian's heart sank, and his hand instinctively moved toward his wand.
It seemed he had to do something proactive, something beyond simply walking away and hoping for the best.
At the very least, he needed to set up some useful and powerful protective enchantments to safeguard Harry and even the Dursleys' safety.
Adrian pushed open his shop door. The bell above the door chimed pleasantly, and warm light spilled out onto the dark street.
Because of Dobby's presence, the lights inside the shop were all on, creating a welcoming and cozy atmosphere. The front room glowed with soft yellow light from multiple lamps, and delicious cooking smells wafted through the air.
"Master Adrian has returned! Dobby is so happy to see you!"
Dobby's squeaky, enthusiastic voice called out immediately from the direction of the small kitchen at the back. "Dobby is preparing dinner for you! A special welcome-back dinner!"
Dobby appeared in the doorway and was concentrating hard on magically controlling the large steak in the frying pan, making it levitate in mid-air several feet above the actual stove.
The meat sizzled away appetizingly, giving off an absolutely enticing aroma that made Adrian realize he hadn't eaten since breakfast.
"Thank you, Dobby. That smells wonderful," Adrian responded warmly.
He took off his travel-stained coat and hung it on the wooden coat rack beside the door, then sat down heavily on the sofa in the shop's front room.
He casually placed the special transfer suitcase at his feet on the floor. The case trembled and shook a few times, rocking back and forth with movement.
A small, leafy sapling suddenly poked its wooden head out from inside the partially open case. It looked around with curiosity, surveying the unfamiliar surroundings with wide eyes.
"Good evening, Flick," Adrian greeted warmly.
Most tree-like Treants couldn't survive being away from the Forbidden Forest for long periods. But Flick seemed to be an exception to this rule.
This special transfer case was permanently connected to a specific location in the Forbidden Forest. And now, Adrian could theoretically summon Treant assistance at any time he needed it, even here in suburban Surrey.
Of course, only Flick. The others were too dependent on the forest itself.
After receiving Adrian's permission and welcoming gesture, Flick nimbly climbed completely out of the case with a rustle of leaves.
The little fellow was intensely curious about everything in this new environment outside its familiar forest home. It extended its thin branches and began touching and examining various objects.
Everything was new and fascinating to a creature that had never left the Forbidden Forest before.
Its attention was particularly captured by the levitating frying pan that continued sizzling in the kitchen doorway, still under Dobby's magical control.
Driven by innocent curiosity and the fearless exploration instincts of a child, Flick extended one small branch and curiously touched the bottom of the floating frying pan.
"Tss—!"
A slight burning sound rang out immediately, and the smell of scorched wood joined the cooking aromas. The tip of Flick's tender young branch instantly retracted as if electrocuted, jerking back toward its body, while the little Treant let out an aggrieved whimpering sound.
"Oh, Mr. Tree! Dobby is so sorry!" Dobby exclaimed in distress, his large eyes growing even larger with guilt and concern.
He quickly waved his finger in an urgent gesture, making the dangerous frying pan fly higher through the air with a whoosh, moving it well away from the curious Flick's reach.
"You need to be more careful, Flick," Adrian said gently. "Hot things will burn you."
Who would have thought that this small, innocent-looking fellow who was afraid of fire and heat, who could be injured by a simple frying pan, possessed such extremely terrifying destructive power in combat?
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