Everything
A whole day.
A truly whole day.
Harry felt incomparably fulfilled.
Aside from the time needed for meals and rest, Morin had packed every remaining moment of his schedule to the brim.
Everything he was assigned fell into two broad categories-physical training and knowledge study.
The physical training involved strange exercises Morin called things like "horse stance." At least, they felt strange to Harry. He had never heard of anything like them before. But once he remembered that Morin was a wizard, the strangeness became reasonable.
After all.
He was a wizard.
As for knowledge study, Morin taught him personally. Basic common sense about the magical world, mixed with lessons on how to conduct himself as a person.
As for how to actually cast magic, Morin only told him that tomorrow they would go buy the things necessary for learning and casting spells.
As for the rest...
Harry had no time to think about it.
There was too much to memorize, and the training was too exhausting. He had no spare energy left over.
Even so, Harry endured.
Part of that was his own willpower.
The rest was thanks to that miraculous machine. Harry found it much easier to call it that than to remember its strange name-something like a "repair pod."
Even now, lying in bed, he felt no soreness at all.
Right after training, the strain was obvious. But every time he soaked in the pod, his body returned to normal.
"What a fulfilling day..." Harry thought.
And tomorrow-
He was going shopping.
With that expectation, Harry fell into a deep sleep.
...
"Tap tap tap!"
"Tap tap tap!"
Harry woke to a rhythmic knocking sound.
"Hm?" Rubbing his eyes, he looked toward the window.
Outside stood a snow-white owl, pecking persistently at the glass.
Harry stared for a long moment before reacting. He hurried out of bed and opened the window.
The owl flew inside and dropped an envelope onto the desk.
He remembered what Morin had told him yesterday.
Owls were the most common means of communication among wizards. Their primary duty was delivering letters.
But...
Who would write to him?
"Coo!"
"Thank you-and, um..." Harry scratched his head. "I don't seem to have any food. Should I get you some?"
The owl narrowed its eyes, shook its head in a strangely human way, then flapped toward the door.
"Looks like you've received your letter."
Morin appeared at the doorway, reaching out to catch the owl-Dusk Snow-and gently stroking her feathers.
"Yes," Harry nodded. "I received it, Mr. Morin."
"That's your acceptance letter," Morin said, gesturing to the envelope. "And the list of required supplies. Come downstairs for breakfast. You can read it slowly."
He added casually, "Oh, right. This is my owl. Snowy owl. Her name is Dusk Snow."
"O-okay!" Harry nodded quickly.
As he followed Morin downstairs, his gaze dropped to the letter.
Turning it over, he saw a wax seal.
A shield with a large "H."
Surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake.
Harry opened the letter.
Morin didn't stop him. Anyone would want to read something like this immediately.
[Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Chief Warlock of the International Confederation of Wizards, Supreme Mugwump, Grand Sorcerer, Order of Merlin, First Class)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed you will find a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1st. We have received your confirmation of attendance. Please acquire the required items in preparation for the start of term.]
"Mr. Morin," Harry looked up, confused. "It says the school already received my confirmation?"
Morin was eating a bowl of savory tofu pudding.
Harry still didn't understand how the same food could taste so different depending on preparation. He liked both.
Clearly, Morin did too. He alternated flavors daily.
"Didn't I introduce him to you yesterday?" Morin shrugged. "Headmaster Dumbledore. He already made a home visit. No need to ask again."
"So that's how it is..." Harry nodded, then hesitated. "It also says I need to buy things, but... I don't have any money."
"You're very rich, Harry," Morin waved his hand. "You just don't know it yet."
He glanced at him. "Eat first. After breakfast, we'll go to Gringotts. You'll see your money. Then we'll buy what you need."
"I'm... rich?" Harry froze.
Then he understood.
This must be what his parents left behind.
The thought made him feel a little down. But it was familiar. He was used to it.
"Oh, right," Morin added, finishing his pudding. "We'll also be filing a lawsuit. If you say you'll do something, you should do it."
...
In the car, Harry unfolded the second sheet of parchment.
[Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
(Uniforms)
First-year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat for daytime wear (black)
...
(Course Books)
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk
...
(Other Equipment)
One wand
One cauldron
One set of glass or crystal phials
...
Students may bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
Parents are reminded that first-years are not allowed their own broomsticks.]
"Wands..." Harry skimmed the list, stopping at [One wand]. "This is the tool you mentioned before. Ordinary wizards need it to cast spells, right?"
"That's right," Morin nodded. "Which reminds me-I'm curious. What material and core will your wand have?"
"I don't know," Harry said honestly.
"That's why we're going," Morin replied, slowing the car. "But before that-I'll file the lawsuit."
After handling the legal process, Morin drove Harry to the Leaky Cauldron.
From the outside, it looked filthy and cramped.
If Morin hadn't pointed it out, Harry would never have noticed it. He had always imagined wizard gathering places to look refined.
"Concealment," Morin said. "Wizards must hide from Muggles. They can't expose themselves."
He glanced at Harry. "I didn't read your mind. I guessed. Learn to control your expressions, or you'll suffer later. If nothing else, keep a faint smile. And observe."
He nodded ahead. "Do you notice anything?"
"It feels like... people can't see this place," Harry said slowly.
Passersby hurried past, their gazes sliding to a bookstore and a record shop instead.
No one looked at the pub.
"Correct." Morin pushed open the door. "There's an enchantment here, similar to a Muggle-Repelling Charm. Come on, Mr. Potter."
"It's time for you to experience how famous you are."
"O-okay," Harry said, stepping inside, nervous and excited.
The Leaky Cauldron was dark, dirty, and loud. The air smelled of mixed alcohol.
The moment they entered-
Silence.
Every conversation stopped.
At first, Harry thought everyone was looking at Morin.
"Your room has been kept for you," said a nearly bald man with a face like a shriveled walnut.
"Thank you, Tom," Morin nodded. "You can clean it later. I've already removed the magic."
He looked around. "What's with everyone staring? I only beat up a few drunk loudmouths."
Then he patted Harry's shoulder.
"I think you should be paying attention to this gentleman instead. You all know him, don't you?"
Every gaze snapped to Harry.
"My goodness... could it be-"
The pub went completely silent.
Harry's confusion deepened.
"Harry Potter. Mr. Potter," Tom whispered. "It's an honor."
He rushed over, grabbed Harry's hand, and looked ready to cry.
Voices followed.
"Mr. Potter, welcome back!"
"To meet you like this-I didn't even change clothes!"
Harry froze.
When he tried to look for Morin, he found him farther away, calmly drinking and shaking his head.
Clearly.
This was intentional.
"Well then," Harry thought. He didn't hate the attention. "But why?"
One by one, people stood up.
Harry found himself shaking hands nonstop. Some tried twice and had to be chased away.
There were familiar faces. One man who had once greeted him on the street and vanished afterward.
When Harry said he recognized him, the man nearly burst with pride.
But still-
Why?
A pale young man approached, visibly nervous.
"Professor Quirrell," Morin stepped forward. "A pleasure. I hope we can learn from each other in our future teaching."
"I-I know you," Quirrell stammered. "Professor Morin. Defense Against the Dark Arts. T-two professors for one course..."
"Yes," Morin smiled. "But you'd rather greet someone else first, wouldn't you?"
He stepped aside. "Harry, this is Professor Quirrell. He'll be teaching your year."
"Y-yes... th-thank you," Quirrell said, shaking Harry's hand. "Meeting you gives me a f-feeling I can't describe. I think D-Defense Against the Dark Arts is a s-subject you won't need to study, right?"
He laughed nervously. "You're b-buying supplies? I was going to buy a b-book on vam-vam-vampires."
His stutter worsened noticeably.
Soon, others pushed him aside.
More than ten minutes passed.
Harry's smile was about to freeze.
Finally, Morin intervened.
"That's enough. Harry still needs to shop."
Some tried to protest.
Others whispered about what Morin had done earlier.
Silence followed.
No one stopped them.
"Fame is useful," Morin said as they passed into the courtyard. "It lets you accomplish things others need years for."
He glanced at Harry.
"But strength matters more. Without it, fame is empty."
"If you wanted to leave earlier, they wouldn't have let you."
"When I spoke, they didn't dare respond."
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