As dusk approached, Harry suddenly remembered something—
His little kitten was still with someone else.
It was also about time for dinner, so Harry changed into a clean set of clothes.
He hadn't changed in eight days. Though there were cleaning spells, Harry hadn't dared use them since he wasn't clear about the consequences of underage magic. Hagrid, though an adult wizard, had been forbidden from using a wand ever since the incident with the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago.
…
He put on a fresh summer outfit. Yes, dear reader, don't forget—it wasn't winter, it was summer vacation.
As soon as Harry stepped out of the elevator, he saw a small crowd gathered around the front desk.
Peering through the people, he spotted a little cat perched on the counter's edge, licking its paw, grooming its smooth fur, and gazing disdainfully at the surrounding humans.
Three girls fawned over it:
"Wow, so cute!"
"Look at those eyes—so cold! Just like the way my sister rolls her eyes at me at home."
"So adorable…"
Harry hadn't expected his little cutie to become the hotel mascot.
But it wasn't surprising—it was a bona fide magical pet. Its combat ability might be only a five, but its intelligence was undeniable.
No Muggle had ever seen such a clever cat.
Its intellect was about the same as a second-grader Harry once met in his past life who could already play Honor of Kings.
…
As Harry approached, the little cutie instantly noticed.
It hopped off the counter, startling the three girls.
It ran up to Harry's feet, sniffed him happily, and began circling him with joy.
Wait a second—did I raise a dog?
One of the receptionists, who clearly remembered Harry, was surprised she hadn't seen him return to the hotel. As she saw him crouch to scoop up the little cutie and head for the door, she quickly called out:
"Sir, a lady expressed interest in your cat. She's willing to pay a high price for it."
Harry blinked, not expecting that.
Was he about to live out the classic plot where a background character woman sets her sights on the protagonist's pet, arrogantly tries to snatch it away, only to get face-slapped by the MC?
He actually got a little excited just thinking about it.
Suppressing his inner glee, he asked, "What's the lady like? If I don't sell, will she send people to beat me up?"
The receptionist was taken aback. "Of course not."
She looked around, then whispered near Harry's ear, "Miss Copenhagen is traveling in the UK and staying at this hotel. She's the one interested in your kitten."
Harry's face was blank. "Copenhagen? Who?"
"She's a Hollywood actress," the receptionist clarified.
Harry looked disappointed. "So that means, for the sake of her reputation, she'd never do anything too out of line?"
"Of course not! What celebrity would?"
"Where are you going, sir?" she asked as Harry turned and headed for the door without a second thought.
"Dinner."
"You're not selling the cat?"
"Of course not. If she won't even do the whole arrogant-face-slap act, how is she supposed to be a side-character villain, let alone a female lead?" Harry said matter-of-factly.
"Do you know how much she's offering?" the receptionist said, her chest heaving—perhaps from anger, or perhaps at the thought of the astronomical figure.
She had even considered stealing the cat… but unfortunately, everyone already knew Harry was the owner.
"I don't know, and I don't want to know," Harry replied, but after taking a few steps, he turned back.
The receptionist thought he'd changed his mind.
Only to hear Harry say, "Extend my room for another month." He slapped down a stack of bills.
Cradling the little cutie, gently petting her while whistling, he walked out.
The receptionist looked devastated, as if she were the one trying to sell her cat, only to be blocked.
"She was willing to pay £400,000 for your cat!" she shouted.
Harry stopped, shocked. People really had that much money to throw around?
Turning back, he tapped his head and said, "Tell her what she needs isn't a cat. It's a hospital."
£400,000… that was four million yuan!
In truth, the actress hadn't actually made an offer. When she'd arrived, her entourage had unloaded eight fancy cat carriers from the car, each holding a rare and expensive breed.
The receptionist had overheard her manager complaining about the cost—those eight cats had cost them £400,000. Later, when the actress insisted she had to have Harry's kitten, the receptionist, in a moment of panic, blurted out the number as if it was the offer.
Harry didn't care what was really going on.
He sighed to himself. The world of cat lovers is terrifying. Thank Merlin I'm not one of them.
Then he pressed his face against the little cutie, took a deep breath, and wore the blissful expression of an addict getting a hit. It was… indecently euphoric.
…
After dinner, Harry returned to the hotel.
He quietly tallied up the money left to him by Lily and James, only to realize—aside from saving up for two years' tuition—he was now completely broke.
Finally, he could relax. No longer holding money he didn't want to spend, he felt a great sense of peace and lightness.
He had a good dream that night for the first time in ages.
The next morning, he changed clothes and asked the staff to replace his bedsheets.
Why? Because, dear reader, it was a very good dream. Get it? A good dream. A good dream!
…
Whether it was the fresh morning air or an aftereffect of his recent "false saint" state, Harry's thoughts were unusually clear.
And that's when he realized something odd.
Neither of his not-quite-confirmed girlfriends had written him back. Not even once.
Cho Chang and Hermione had both asked for his summer address before going home. Since Harry didn't have a fixed place yet, he'd taken down their addresses and promised to write once he had somewhere to stay.
After moving into the Sherlock Hotel, he had sent two letters.
By now, he definitely should've received a reply. But there was nothing.
And so his mind couldn't help but go to that one house-elf who made his debut in Book 2—the one every reader instantly wanted to strangle.
Dobby.
A house-elf who was grateful, kind, loyal, and utterly devoted.
Unfortunately, all those qualities couldn't make up for one fatal flaw:
Stupidity.
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