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August was drawing to a close, and with it came the end of Harry's month-long stay at Vinson's shop. During this period, aside from studying Potions with Vinson, Harry had also taken on another course: Charms. At someone's very firm insistence, the daily schedule had been adjusted—Potion lessons shortened, Charms classes lengthened.
After four weeks of steady work guided by both Vinson and Lupin, Harry had nearly reviewed all the foundational first-year spells he would need at Hogwarts. Though his talent in Potions was, at best, average, Charms came surprisingly naturally to him. His wand movements were fluid, his incantations crisp, and his reactions quick. There were even moments when Vinson thought that if Harry ever chose to pursue Charms seriously, he might one day become a true master of the subject—perhaps even a renowned spell researcher or dueling expert.
Of course, there was one small obstacle: Harry's tendency not to take studying entirely seriously.
Vinson knew the boy too well. The phrase study diligently wasn't completely foreign to Harry, but it certainly wasn't part of his habitual vocabulary either.
Still, despite this, Harry had made real progress. The end of August arrived almost before he realized it.
Today was Harry's final full day at the shop before leaving for Hogwarts. Tomorrow morning, he would be departing for school. Excitement churned in him—real, bubbling excitement—but mixed with a faint reluctance. Hogwarts was a boarding school, meaning he wouldn't be able to drop by Vinson's greenhouse during the school year. No quiet afternoons practicing spells, no impromptu lessons, no peaceful hours spent among magical plants. He would miss that.
He had already packed all of his things. The only problem left was transportation. He knew, without even needing to ask, that his aunt and uncle would absolutely refuse to take him to King's Cross Station. The thought of begging them—of enduring their sour expressions and sharp words—made his whole body itch with discomfort. He would rather walk to London than plead with them.
Fortunately, he wasn't worried; he knew Vinson would help.
After finishing his usual Charms practice, Harry approached his teacher with a bit of nervousness.
"Teacher," he asked quietly, "could you… take me to King's Cross Station tomorrow? My aunt and uncle definitely won't take me."
Vinson had been expecting the question for days. He waved his hand casually.
"Of course. Not a problem at all. In fact, I had already planned to do exactly that."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a document. Harry leaned forward, curious, and realized it was a driver's license—complete with Vinson's photograph.
Vinson tapped the card lightly. "I even prepared a Muggle car," he added with a small smile. "Relax, Harry. I'll pick you up at around nine tomorrow morning."
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and nodded quickly, all worry melting away. His steps were noticeably lighter as he walked toward the greenhouse door.
Just then Lupin emerged from inside, wiping dirt from his hands.
"Has Harry already gone?" he asked.
Vinson nodded, then paused as something occurred to him. "By the way, Lupin, I'll be taking Harry to King's Cross tomorrow."
Lupin glanced at the calendar hanging nearby, finally realizing that today was the last day of August.
"And," Vinson added breezily, "you're coming with us."
Lupin blinked. "I am?"
"Of course." Vinson shrugged. "Otherwise, who's going to drive the car back?"
Since both he and Harry would be boarding the Hogwarts Express, someone needed to return the car to the shop.
"Wait—what about you?" Lupin frowned. "Aren't you coming back with me after dropping him off?"
It was only then that Vinson remembered he had completely forgotten to tell Lupin the important news—that he was now officially a Hogwarts professor.
He smiled faintly. "Actually, starting tomorrow, I'll be teaching Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts."
Lupin shot upright from the sofa. "What?! When did this happen? How am I only hearing about this now? And what about your greenhouse?"
Three rapid-fire questions burst from him.
"This summer," Vinson explained calmly, "Professor Kettleburn retired and recommended me for the position. As for the greenhouse, relax. You won't be out of a job. The plants still need tending, and I don't intend to shut the place down."
Lupin sank back onto the sofa, staring at him with a mixture of surprise and admiration. "That's… truly something, Vinson. Teaching at Hogwarts isn't easy."
Vinson gave a light shrug. "I'm grateful to Professor Kettleburn for giving me the opportunity. Besides, teaching is enjoyable."
"Then congratulations," Lupin said sincerely. In truth, he was relieved. Having Vinson at Hogwarts meant Harry would have someone trustworthy looking after him.
Vinson nodded, then suddenly tossed the car keys to him.
Under Lupin's confused gaze, he pointed toward the door. "You should practice driving. It would be awful if you hit someone."
"Yes, boss," Lupin muttered, though he was admittedly eager to try driving a Muggle car again.
Early the Next Morning
Vinson's newly purchased Muggle car rolled to a stop in front of Number 4, Privet Drive. The neat row of houses looked identical, each lawn meticulously trimmed. Lupin poked his head out of the passenger-side window, studying the tidy front yard and the pristine door.
"So this is where Harry lives?" he asked, sounding unimpressed.
"This family isn't easy to deal with," Vinson replied, stepping out. "Wait here. I'll be right back."
He rang the doorbell. Footsteps approached, and the door swung open to reveal Vernon Dursley—large, red-faced, and already scowling. Harry stood just behind him, balancing a mountain of packages and looking resigned.
Vernon had never met Vinson before. Last time, Vinson had met Petunia while disguised as a community worker. So Vernon didn't recognize him—but he certainly recognized the word Hogwarts. The mere mention of magic made his face contort.
"Good morning, sir," Vinson said politely, adjusting his hat. "I'm a professor from Hogwarts. I'm here to pick up Harry. He should have told you—"
At the word Hogwarts, Vernon's lips curled downward into a deep grimace. His mustache twitched violently, a clear sign of brewing fury.
"Oh, it's you lot again," he muttered, voice dripping with contempt. His glare fixed on Vinson like he was an unsightly stain on the carpet.
He opened his mouth as though to shout, but groaned instead—perhaps remembering the pig's tail his precious son still hadn't fully recovered from after last summer's encounter with Hagrid. Fear trumped anger.
Vernon puffed his chest and barked, "Take this boy away and send him to your—your freak school! I don't want to see any more of you abnormal people!"
With that, he stomped toward the living room, only to whirl around partway and shout again, "Get out of here!"
Harry didn't flinch. He had heard far worse. He lifted his luggage a little higher and stepped toward Vinson almost gratefully.
Vinson, however, simply smiled at Harry and paid Vernon's insults no attention at all—almost as if they were background noise he couldn't be bothered to acknowledge.
Then, taking Harry's trunk with ease, he said warmly, "Alright, Harry. Let's go."
And so, Harry stepped out of Number 4, Privet Drive—leaving behind the suffocating house, the bitter glares, and the world that had never welcomed him. Ahead lay Hogwarts, the Hogwarts Express, and an entirely new chapter of his life..
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