"Reparo—"
Harry aimed his hand at the rusted hinge connecting the door to the wall, swiftly chanting the spell.
A silver light shimmered over the hinge, spreading outward. Where the light passed, the rust vanished, replaced by gleaming, polished metal.
Even without a wand, Harry was proficient with this spell. His casting was weaker than usual, meaning he could only repair small objects bit by bit, but it still worked.
After finishing the door, he shook it. No creak. Perfect.
By now, Harry had repaired most of the Castle. Satisfied, he walked toward the balcony of his room. It was on the third floor—uninhabited, a little dusty, but generally clean, thanks to Harry's frequent tidying.
From the balcony, the view was even better than standing on the cliff itself, and Harry never tired of it. He enjoyed the breeze for a moment before heading downstairs to gather clothes.
Albert, lying on the sofa, stirred at the sound of Harry's footsteps.
"Ugh… did I fall asleep again?" he mumbled, blinking at Lucifer.
"Yes," Lucifer replied flatly. "You fell asleep again."
Albert sighed deeply. "Harry, can you make me an Energy Potion? Half sugar, little ice."
Harry, carrying the clean clothes, nodded eagerly. "Right away."
"Why am I so sleepy lately?" Albert said, rubbing his eyes. "I don't feel tired, but I keep dozing off."
"Cats sleep two-thirds of the day," Lucifer remarked impassively.
"I'm not a cat," Albert shot back, irritated.
"Poluk isn't a pig, either, yet he turned into one—short and fat," Lucifer retorted without missing a beat.
Albert frowned, recalling Poluk's transformation. "That's true…" He looked down at his own stomach and froze.
A spare tire?
"Lucifer! Where's the scale? Quick, let me see!"
"No need," Lucifer said bluntly. "You've gained weight."
Albert stripped off his shirt, examining his body. Once a golden-ratio figure, now a thin layer of fat covered him.
There was no logical explanation. But he focused, tracing symbols on his chest. Gradually, runes and magical formations appeared on his skin—normally invisible, these runes enhanced energy storage, magic recovery, item storage, and rapid healing. But even this perfect alchemy couldn't explain his sudden weight gain.
"Your body is fine," Lucifer said pointedly. "You just… got fatter. The Curse is deepening, just like when you turned into a cat."
Albert was silent, disheartened.
"You need to slow down and enjoy life. The more you rush, the stronger the Curse becomes."
Albert nodded. "If Animagus doesn't work, I'll take your advice."
He tucked the hidden runes beneath his clothes. Harry entered with the Energy Potion. "Uncle Albert, what are you two talking about?"
Lucifer smirked. "He's getting jowls."
Jowls? Harry thought, recalling the cats at Mrs. Figg's. It meant a rounder, fuller face. Looking at Albert, it did seem the case.
Albert scowled. "I'm not a cat. Stop it." He sipped the potion and changed the subject. "Is the Castle fully repaired?"
"Most of it," Harry said. "But some beams on the third and fourth floors are too thick for me to fix." He brightened. "Oh, and I fixed this too!"
He ran to the second floor and retrieved a gramophone with a large horn. Albert hadn't noticed it before.
"Well done," Albert said approvingly. "I'm going to Diagon Alley. Do you want to come?"
"Can I?" Harry asked, thrilled.
"Of course," Albert said, finishing the potion. "If all is well, let's go."
He adjusted his hair, donned his hat, and his sharp, defined features reappeared. Harry tied his turban over his scar.
Surprisingly, Albert didn't teleport them to London. Instead, he stepped outside onto Privet Drive.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked.
Albert waved his sleeve, producing a small wand. "I heard that waving your wand here summons a magic bus. Let's see if it works."
Harry raised an eyebrow. Could a bus really appear just like that?
The alley between Number 12 and 13 seemed empty at first, then a rumbling grew louder.
A huge dark shape shot out like a rocket, accompanied by an ear-splitting screech.
A three-story bus squeezed out of the narrow alley, stopping in front of them, billowing Albert's trench coat.
Harry looked up. A three-story bus?
The side read: Knight Bus – Emergency transport for stranded witches or wizards.
"Just wave your wand, and we can take you anywhere," said a conductor with an eight-toothed grin. "I'm John Daley. You signaled, right?"
Albert nodded. "Does it go to the Leaky Cauldron?"
"Of course. The Knight Bus has no fixed route. We travel anywhere across Britain as needed."
Albert stepped aboard first. "Come on, kid. This ride might be exciting."
Harry gulped. The bus had no seats—only beds.
Albert had already paid. "Eleven silver Sickles each. Fourteen for hot cocoa," John Daley said.
"Beds instead of seats?" Harry muttered. As the bus jolted forward, he fell, spinning and clutching the bed frame desperately.
Albert, however, remained unfazed, rooted to the bed like magic.
Harry peered out the window in horror. The bus was barreling down the sidewalk—but it didn't hit anything. Lampposts, mailboxes, and trash cans slid aside and snapped back as the bus passed. It was as if space itself bent to the bus's will.
Twenty minutes later, the bus screeched to a halt on Charing Cross Road. Harry leaped off, gasping for fresh air.
Albert strolled down calmly. "I didn't expect someone good at flying brooms to handle a bus so poorly," he said with a faint smile.
Harry clutched his stomach. "Maybe I can only fly alone…"
A girl's voice suddenly rang out: "Dad, Mom, hurry! There's an old pub here—I know it!"
Her parents exchanged helpless smiles as she pulled them along. Albert and Harry turned to watch the little girl, her messy brown hair bouncing with excitement.
And so, their journey continued, with the Knight Bus waiting to carry them into a magical London adventure.
FOR MORE CHAPTERS
patreon.com/Tonystarc961