Time slipped quickly into the latter half of July. By now, Harry should be receiving his Hogwarts acceptance letter any day. Because of that, he could barely concentrate on his Potion lessons. Every ten minutes he would glance restlessly toward the window, as if willing an owl to appear with a letter clutched in its talons.
After watching Harry repeat this ritual far too many times, Vinson finally canceled his Potion class altogether.
It was noon on July 24th when Harry pushed open the shop door and rushed inside as if fleeing a raging storm. Vinson was watering the potted plants arranged neatly along the shelves. Ever since Lupin had begun helping around the shop, Vinson finally had enough spare time to enjoy small luxuries—like slowly and deliberately watering flowers.
After so many endlessly busy days, the sudden leisure felt almost unsettling.
"Teacher!" Harry gasped as he hurried to Vinson's side. "I got a letter today—an owl brought it! But my aunt grabbed it and tore it to pieces before I could read it. I didn't even get to see what it said. It must have been the Hogwarts acceptance letter!"
Vinson calmly set down the watering can and motioned for Harry to settle down.
"Calm yourself, Harry. This isn't a catastrophe."
But Harry's face instantly dimmed, as though he hadn't heard a word. "Does this mean… I can't go to Hogwarts?" he said miserably.
Vinson almost laughed at the expression. He had briefly considered teasing Harry a bit, but quickly discarded the idea; traumatizing a child was hardly something he wanted to do today.
"Relax," Vinson said as he stepped behind the counter and sat down. "Hogwarts will make sure every incoming student receives their letter. As long as you didn't read it, they'll keep sending more."
"So I can still get another one?" Harry asked, finally beginning to calm.
"Of course."
Harry exhaled deeply with relief. He trusted Vinson completely, without even a hint of doubt.
"But," Vinson continued, shifting the tone, "if you want to attend Hogwarts, you'll still need your guardian's consent."
Harry's expression once again darkened. "They'll never agree."
Vinson crouched down and ruffled his hair. "That's not necessarily true. Believe me, Harry—people rarely want to keep around someone they dislike. You just need to… encourage them to dislike you more. Or perhaps… to fear you a little."
Harry blinked, thinking this over. While he pondered, a sly glint flickered in Vinson's eyes.
"But," Vinson added lightly, "if you really can't think of a way, I can always help. A little wave of my wand, and the problem disappears."
Harry hesitated. "Teacher… isn't it illegal to use magic in front of ordinary people?"
This time Vinson was genuinely surprised. "I don't recall teaching you that. Who told you?"
"Mr. Lupin," Harry said nervously. "He said the Ministry of Magic monitors that kind of thing—like the police do here. But don't worry! I didn't tell him that you used magic on my aunt before."
Vinson waved dismissively, then pressed a finger to his lips.
"Shh… No one else will ever know about that, right?"
He had never been one of those obedient wizards who followed Ministry laws for the sake of following them. If a problem could be solved with magic, then why not use it?
Seeing Vinson's easy attitude, Harry relaxed again.
"I'll get the letter," he promised.
For the next several days, Vinson didn't see Harry at all. Lupin also began to notice and found it strange. Despite Harry's dislike for Potion lessons, he rarely missed them entirely. His prolonged disappearance was unusual.
"Aren't you worried?" Lupin asked. He stood beside the counter watching Vinson calmly brew a potion. "Harry hasn't shown up for days."
"He's probably tied up by his aunt or uncle," Vinson said without concern. "If you're that worried, you can go see for yourself. Though I imagine you won't enjoy meeting the Dursleys."
Lupin stared at Vinson as he stirred the simmering potion. Lupin couldn't help feeling annoyed at how unbothered Vinson seemed.
"What potion are you brewing?" Lupin finally asked.
"Secret," Vinson said, eyes still fixed on the cauldron. "It's Harry's birthday gift."
Lupin blinked in confusion, as though the concept took a moment to sink in.
"Birthday gift?" he repeated. "When is Harry's birthday?"
He genuinely wasn't sure.
Vinson glanced at the calendar pinned to the table. "If I'm remembering correctly… it's today."
"Today?" Lupin turned quickly toward the calendar. The date was circled in red. "Why didn't Harry tell me?"
Vinson gave him a strange look. "Maybe… because he doesn't like you."
Lupin gave a stiff chuckle. "I wouldn't say that."
For most young witches and wizards, their eleventh birthday is significant. It marks the moment their magic stabilizes enough for formal learning—an important milestone. Vinson, naturally, hadn't forgotten to prepare a gift.
"Er…" Lupin muttered awkwardly, "is it still possible for me to prepare something?"
Vinson added the final ingredient to the cauldron, then glanced toward the window with a small smile.
"I don't think you have time," he said. "Unless you can turn back the clock to yesterday."
Lupin followed his gaze. Two figures—one small, one enormous—were approaching the shop.
The small figure was unmistakably Harry. The large one caused Lupin to blink in surprise.
Vinson had just finished cleaning up the tools when a sharp knock echoed at the door. Seconds later, it swung open and Harry rushed inside, breathless and shining with excitement.
"Teacher! I got it!" he exclaimed, holding out the envelope as though presenting treasure. The Hogwarts crest was beautifully embossed on the front.
Vinson smiled. "Congratulations, Harry."
He reached to take the letter when a loud thud sounded near the doorway. A massive shape squeezed in, bending low to avoid the doorframe, and still managed to bump his head.
"Hiss—" the large man muttered, rubbing the sore spot. Then he looked up.
"Anyone here? Harry said—Ah! Professor Vinson! And… Lupin?"
Hagrid froze, stunned.