[Your actions prevented Harry Potter's situation from worsening.]
[Fate Disturbance Intensity: Very Weak ]
[You gained 1 Fate Point. Current total: 11 points.]
Vernon Dursley eventually closed his big deal, and the Masons were pleased with the addition of Mr. Wilson and his son to the dinner.
Mr. Wilson, in turn, was very satisfied with the Masons' influence and connections. The evening ended with both hosts and guests content.
And Harry, thanks to the success of that business dinner, was spared punishment for dropping the pudding—no being locked away in his room this time.
More likely, it was because Louis had confiscated the Ministry's warning letters, leaving the Dursleys unaware that Harry was forbidden from using magic outside school.
Thus, Harry avoided the miserable fate of three daily meals of canned vegetables.
In the original timeline, Harry endured nearly a week of it, even skimming off only the broth to leave the vegetables for Hedwig.
Not that Hedwig appreciated the gesture—Harry nearly starved to death.
If the Weasleys' flying car hadn't arrived in time, it was hard to imagine what would have become of him.
But though Harry's situation hadn't worsened, it hadn't improved either.
Dobby continued tirelessly to intercept all letters addressed to Harry, and Harry could do nothing about it.
Even though Harry already knew the truth and wouldn't be disappointed without receiving them, Dobby still carried on with his pointless mission.
Perhaps this was the common flaw of house-elves: once they set their mind on something, they couldn't be swayed—stubborn, neurotic, bound only to their masters.
And so, the Weasleys' "heroic rescue" unfolded naturally.
This was a nearly unchangeable event. Even if Harry had received his letters, he couldn't have written back anyway—their arrival was inevitable.
---
August 20th. Night. Clear skies.
Louis, in the middle of analyzing the ingredients of Skiving Snackboxes, was interrupted by the rumbling roar of an engine.
It sounded exactly like an old diesel car wobbling precariously across a rooftop.
Which, in fact, it was.
Louis walked to the window just in time to see a battered flying car shudder up to the Dursleys' second floor.
From it, a sneaky Ron Weasley climbed inside.
They had come to pick up Harry again—but since Harry wasn't locked up this time, things weren't quite as urgent.
Ron and one of the twins quietly helped Harry pack his trunk and slipped him out without a fuss.
The flying car was about to leave when it drifted up to Louis's window.
"Louis, are you coming with us?" Fred and George shouted from inside.
Harry, sitting in the back seat, also looked over at Louis. He was grateful—if Louis hadn't intercepted the Ministry's warning letters, the Dursleys would have seen them and his life would have been unbearable.
"Me? No, I'll pass. I'll see you at Hogwarts."
Louis didn't even plan to go to Diagon Alley. He had already bought the books he needed in advance.
"All right, see you at Hogwarts then."
Fred and George looked regretful, but respected his decision.
The car's engine roared as it shot into the night sky.
Louis thought that was the end of it for the evening—until he glanced down and spotted a familiar figure.
Dumbledore.
The legendary wizard stood out clearly, even in the darkness.
It seemed the headmaster had witnessed Harry's departure from beginning to end.
Busy man indeed—just recently he'd been preoccupied with finding someone to prophesy, and now he had shown up here.
If Louis didn't have confidence in his own Eye of Fate Observation, he might have worried Dumbledore was here to catch him.
After a moment of thought, Louis decided to go down and see what the headmaster intended to do.
Before going downstairs, Louis picked up the two letters—something for Dumbledore to look over.
"Good evening, Headmaster," Louis greeted as he stepped in front of him. "Were you here to see Harry?"
"In a way," Dumbledore replied. "I heard from Professor McGonagall about what you said regarding Harry's situation. I thought I should come and see for myself."
"Oh, then you've come at the wrong time. They just left. And you missed quite a show." Louis handed him the two letters. "But you can still read the aftermath and get a taste of the spectacle."
Dumbledore took the letters and read them through, his brows furrowing.
"The Ministry's tracers do fail from time to time," he admitted. "But it's nothing serious. I'll see to it that this matter is handled. Tell me—what exactly happened?"
"Ask Harry for the details," Louis shrugged. "I was only a guest. What I saw was a house-elf smashing a pudding. Then the letters came."
A house-elf?
Dumbledore pondered that for a moment, deciding he would ask Harry later. Then he told Louis the reason he had come.
"I came here to investigate the mistreatment you mentioned Harry was suffering. But it seems I am too late—he's already been taken away."
"Too late, maybe, but the truth is still here. I doubt the Dursleys will care if you're present or not," Louis said. "And people fresh out of sleep tend to be a bit more… honest."
"Quite right." Dumbledore nodded approvingly, and together they walked toward the Dursleys' house.
"How do you plan to deal with them, Headmaster? Politely, or by force?" Louis asked.
"Politely, of course. I've always believed persuasion works better than violence."
"Suit yourself." Louis shrugged, watching as Dumbledore knocked on the front door.
Disturbing someone's sleep was bound to spark anger. Both Louis and Dumbledore heard Vernon Dursley upstairs, cursing and shouting Harry's name.
"Harry! Go see who's bloody knocking at the door in the middle of the night!"
Louis glanced at Dumbledore's expression—it looked sour, though whether it was real or an act, he couldn't tell.
Naturally, Vernon's shouting got no response; Harry had long since run away.
And he'd done it without a shred of guilt—if not for having no other relatives, he'd never want to come back.
"Harry? Harry?"
Vernon's voice grew more irate. There was the sound of a door slamming open upstairs.
"Damn it! Where did that boy run off to?"
The racket of drawers and boxes being overturned followed.
"Petunia! Petunia, wake up! Check if anything's missing! That brat has run away!"
"I knew it! Freaks breed freaks! James Potter's son is just as worthless!"
…
The voices were loud, and their meaning all too clear. Dumbledore's expression hardened.
He was truly angry now. This wasn't just about suffering—it was an assault on dignity.
Dumbledore might wish for Harry to grow up resilient, but he would never tolerate insults to his character, nor to his parents.
They had died for the wizarding world. They were heroes, not vermin to be spat upon!
"Step back, Mr. Wilson," Dumbledore said sharply, raising the Elder Wand.
"I'll need a different way of negotiating!"
---
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