Harry Potter's Adventure Days

"You've brought another one in?" Victor turned to look at her. "Boy or girl? How did they get in?"

Grandma Baba Yaga curled up on the old cloth sofa, her ugly face softening as she slowly spoke:

"It's a boy, and he looks... just like an ordinary boy, with messy hair. But I heard that he was adopted, and his aunt and uncle treated him badly. He was bullied and beaten, which is why he ran away."

"He had just run under the house and almost got kicked over. I only found him when I heard his scream. He had been wandering around in the woods all night."

He should still be sleeping in his room upstairs.

Grandma Baba Yaga's house was a wooden hut with a giant chicken leg on it. On top of the chicken leg was a small platform that served as a yard, which Victor used to grow some strange flowers.

Because she has always enjoyed adopting children, she always keeps two empty rooms on the second floor.

Victor glanced at the dark second-floor staircase.

Unlike the chicken feet covered in mud, the room was relatively clean and tidy, with two pots of Viktor's Blue Nightshade plants placed perfectly in the corner as decoration.

It's just that the house is always surrounded by fog, so the room is quite dark.

"Alright, I'll ask him again when he wakes up tomorrow morning."

"But the Ministry of Magic here in England is very strict. Only children who know magic can come to our house. He may have been looking for him outside for a long time. We still need to send him back as soon as possible."

Grandma Baba Yaga showed a pained expression at this moment, which seemed to come from the bottom of her heart:

"Do we really have to send him back? Can't we do what Vasilisa did before, punish his foster parents for him, and then let him stay with us?"

"No, the British Ministry of Magic has a well-established adoption system. We need to find out his situation before going through the proper procedures to discuss adoption."

"All right."

Grandma Yaga said somewhat dejectedly.

.......

For Harry Potter, today is an incredible and wonderful day.

Yesterday morning, he was yelled at by his Uncle Vernon and chased and beaten by Dudley and his friends, forcing him to run away from No. 4 Privet Drive. But as he was running, a light rain suddenly began to fall, and the street in front of him became increasingly blurry... Then, with a turn, he suddenly found himself inexplicably in a misty forest.

He couldn't understand it, because he had lived on Privet Road for almost ten years and had never heard of a forest nearby.

And no matter which way he went, he couldn't get out of the forest.

In the end, he actually came across a house with chicken feet that could walk around in the woods!

"...Was this all a dream?"

After what felt like a long time, Harry regained consciousness and thought to himself.

But the rhythmic sound continued to echo in his ears:

"Thump, thump."

"Thump, thump..."

"Squeak."

The sounds of friction, rhythmic footsteps, and a distant, indistinct conversation that seemed to be coming from outside the door...

Harry couldn't help but open his eyes, his two bewildered green eyes meeting a clean wooden ceiling.

...This certainly wasn't his closet in the Dursleys' house, and the Dursleys' house was decades old; there was no way the ceiling would be this clean.

Harry sat up, feeling the exceptionally soft and fluffy bed and blankets beneath him, and finally realized that he was indeed in another place.

—This is a cozy little room with a thick, plush carpet on the floor, its surface showing delicate weave patterns. Despite it being summer, it's not hot at all.

The room contained only a thick bed by the window and a small tea table next to it. Beside the tea table was a wooden chair with a vase of small white flowers and a classically styled lantern. Although the room was dark, Harry couldn't think of a way to light the lantern because there were no matches in sight.

What exactly is this place?

The view outside the window was hazy and gray, still shrouded in thick fog.

His memories finally returned to his mind.

That's right, he was picked up by a strange-looking old woman and taken to the house with chicken feet. She gave him some milk and bread, and then put him to sleep in this room.

Who is that old woman? And why does the house have chicken feet growing out of it?

He didn't know. The only way to understand all this was to go outside.

But he had a vague premonition in his heart—

He won't fall down a rabbit hole like in those fantasy stories and end up in a magical place, will he?

Harry stood there blankly for a while, looking around before struggling to get up. He then walked to the only door in the room, pushed it open a crack, and cautiously peered out.

Outside was a clean corridor, dimly lit, but warm light shone through at the end.

The conversation was coming from there.

"...The headmaster is a man named Dumbledore, who is said to be the most powerful wizard in all of Britain. I met him once, and it seems to be pretty much as the rumors say..."

The voice that spoke was a deep, resonant male voice.

"...Then he should believe you. After all, it was the witch who brought up this wish, and you deserve her position..."

Harry remembered the voice; it was rough and hoarse, belonging to the old woman who had brought him in.

Although the old woman looked somewhat frightening and appeared in a strange way, Harry was not afraid of her. Instead, he was reminded of Mrs. Figg, who lived next door to him—they both had the same kind smile.

This room, however, didn't have the damp cabbage smell of Mrs. Figg's house, and it was much cleaner.

Harry quietly walked toward the light.

As he walked to the staircase with its beautiful wooden handrail, he saw another young man speaking—a man he hadn't seen in the house before.

When his deep, gloomy eyes turned and he saw Harry at a glance, Harry instinctively shuddered.

"...You're awake."

"I am Victor van der Bohm, and I live here. Come and have breakfast, boy, and I'll take you home afterward."

Victor said to Harry with a calm expression.

"Come on, child, sit here!"

Grandma Baba Yaga, who was standing next to him, waved enthusiastically to Harry: "I made some new cookies with tomato powder, you'll love them. There are also pumpkin pancakes and oatmeal for breakfast."

Harry went downstairs and found the two of them sitting at a square dining table next to the sofa. Several plates were set on the table, each filled with hot food.

Harry was indeed hungry; just looking at him made his stomach rumble.

"Thanks."

He walked to the table and, following the kind-faced Grandma Baba Yaga's instructions, sat in a seat on the right side of the wooden table, closest to the fireplace.

Harry struggled a bit to sit down. The chair was quite high, made of solid wood, and had old-fashioned carvings. Based on Harry's experience at the Dursleys' house, no one could afford a chair without tens of thousands of pounds.

This family looks very respectable.

If they didn't live in a house with legs.

...Are they going to send him back?

So, he didn't travel to some magical world? He's still in England?

"Mr. Vanderbom... Mr. Vanderbom," Harry said after a moment's thought.

"You just said you'd take me home?"

"Where am I? I live on Privet Road, and I don't know how I got here. Maybe my memory isn't very clear, but I do remember inexplicably ending up in a forest and seeing a house with chicken legs?"

He said it so convincingly that he felt embarrassed and thought it was all so absurd.

But he soon discovered that the two people listening to him didn't change their expressions at all.

“You’re not mistaken,” Victor said, cutting a piece of garlic bread. “This house has chicken feet on it; it was made by Grandma Yaga’s magic.”

"I'll take you home after you finish eating, but it might take some effort—I haven't figured out how to connect our fireplace to the Floo Network yet, so it might take a few tries."

"By the way, which wizarding village is Privet Road that you mentioned in?"

Wizarding community? Magic? FlooNet?

Harry felt his mind reeling from all the new words, completely bewildered by what Victor was saying. He looked around blankly, only certain of one thing—

He did indeed arrive at a magical house.