Early the Next Morning, Dawn had barely broken over the rooftops of the sleepy London suburb when Adrian came down the staircase from his second-floor bedroom.
Adrian was dressed in casual attire—comfortable trousers and a loose cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was slightly disheveled from sleep, and he hadn't yet bothered to tame it properly.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs and moved toward the front door to begin his morning routine of checking the outer plants, Adrian was surprised to notice a familiar silhouette through the frosted glass of his shop's entrance.
The small figure stood perfectly still, occasionally shifting from one foot to another in a clear sign of nervous anticipation.
It was Harry, standing alone on the doorstep. The boy appeared to be constantly glancing over his shoulder.
Adrian quickened his pace, concerned about what could have brought Harry to his doorstep at such an unusually early hour. As he turned the key in the lock, the door clicked open with a thunk, and Adrian swung the door wide.
"Good morning, Harry," Adrian greeted with a poorly suppressed yawn that, his eyes were observing the boy's anxious expression with growing curiosity. "You're here quite early today."
He distractedly lifted his wrist to check the time. "I believe it's still breakfast time,"
Usually, Harry would arrive at Adrian's place after the twelve o'clock, giving him time to complete whatever morning chores his aunt and uncle assigned him at home, but today, he had arrived before nine.
Harry stood awkwardly on the threshold, his eyes darting nervously up and down the quiet morning street.
His entire demeanor discharged anxiety. Every few seconds, Harry would crane his neck to peer down the street, as if expecting someone's pursuit at any moment.
When the door was opened fully, Harry's attention snapped back to Adrian, relief briefly overflowing his face before the anxiety returned in full force.
"Good morning, Mr. Adrian," Harry said hastily, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush. His voice cracked slightly with nervous tension as he continued, "This morning when I tried to leave..."
Harry's sentence trailed off unfinished as he glanced once more over his shoulder, his green eyes scanning the quiet suburban street with the wariness of a hunted animal.
Seeing his flustered state, Adrian reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder, giving it a gentle pat.
"Don't worry, Harry," Adrian said soothingly, stepping aside to clear the doorway. He gestured with a welcoming sweep of his arm toward the interior of the shop, inviting Harry in. "You can take your time explaining, if it's not too urgent. Come inside first—standing out here won't help matters."
Harry took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the comforting scents of Adrian's shop. His shoulders lowered slightly from their tense position near his ears, and he managed to force a slight smile, seeming to calm down a bit as the familiar environment began to work its subtle magic on his nerves.
He followed Adrian into the shop, closing the door carefully behind him with a soft click that seemed to seal them off from the muggle world outside. Even so, Harry's eyes still occasionally darted to the windows, glancing outside at the street outside, as if something—or someone—prevented him from fully settling down and relaxing.
Adrian observed the boy's continued nervousness with growing concern, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to determine the cause of such obvious distress.
However, rather than pressing Harry immediately for answer, however, he decided to approach the situation indirectly, giving the boy time to gather his thoughts and regain his composure.
Adrian casually reached for a potato sitting on a nearby shelf. He picked it up and rolled it thoughtfully between his palms
"You must not have had breakfast today, right?" Adrian asked. "Today's menu is exploding mashed potatoes. Would you like some? They're really quite delicious,"
"No, thank you," Harry declined hurriedly, his attention clearly elsewhere. He rushed to the nearest window, pressing his face close to the glass and cupping his hands around his eyes to eliminate reflections as he peered intently outside.
His breath fogged the pane slightly as he scanned the street, seemingly waiting for an unwelcome visitor to appear at any moment.
Adrian observed Harry's behavior with quiet patience, allowing the boy his vigilance while preparing a simple breakfast for himself. He produced a wooden cutting board from beneath the counter and placed the exploding potato on it.
"So, what happened?"
Taking a silver knife with runes etched along its blade, he began to cut the potato gently.
"Ah, no explosion," Adrian said as the knife sliced cleanly through the potato without incident. "Looks like we're having good luck today. Trust me, Harry, today will be a fortunate day."
Harry remained at the window staring out as nearly a full minute passed in silence broken only by the soft sounds of Adrian's food preparation and the occasional tick from clock on the wall.
Finally, after confirming that nobody seemed to have followed him to Adrian's shop, Harry's posture relaxed slightly.
"This morning I said I was going to attend a community activity like usual," Harry finally spoke, turning away from the window but remaining close to it.
His voice was steadier now, though still tinged with anxiety. "But today my aunt seemed to notice something odd. She was washing dishes when I told her I was leaving, and she suddenly stopped scrubbing and looked at me with those narrow eyes she gets when she's suspicious. Then she asked me, 'What kind of community activity lasts for nearly half a year?'"
As he recounted his aunt's words, Harry mimicked her voice in the high-pitched, slightly nasal tone.
"And then?" Adrian asked gently, skillfully transforming the now-cooked potato into a fluffy mound of mashed potatoes with a few movements of a fork.
Harry leaned against the window frame nervously.
"She wanted Dudley to come with me," Harry continued, his expression darkening at the mention of his cousin.
Harry again imitated his aunt's tone: "'Go see what kind of activity Harry is participating in, and whether he's lying,'"
"That's it," Harry concluded, shoulders slumping as the performance ended, his expression once more showing his helplessness in the face of this unexpected complication. "Then I ran out while Dudley was changing clothes. I think he must be looking for me now, though."
After hearing Harry's explanation, Adrian gently set down his fork beside his half-eaten breakfast. His expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration.
"Harry, don't worry," Adrian explained calmly. "This might be happening because after all this time, the suggestion I placed on your aunt is starting to wear off."
"Suggestion?" Harry asked as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Although he knew Adrian had cast some magic on his aunt, he didn't know exactly what spell it was.
Adrian nodded and explained patiently: "About half a year ago, I used magic to make your aunt believe I was a community worker, so afterward, she naturally thought it was reasonable for you to participate in community activities with me."
"But," Adrian continued, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, "perhaps too much time has passed, or maybe something happened to make her question the narrative. Your aunt has begun to question my identity and, by extension, the legitimacy of your activities with me."
Harry felt somewhat relieved after hearing this explanation, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he processed the information. However, his relief was short-lived as new concerns bubbled to the surface, causing his eyebrow to furrow again in worry.
"Then, what should I do?" he asked. "Will she discover I'm a wizard?"
Adrian smiled slightly and shook his head. "Don't worry, Harry. Even if she discovers you're a wizard, so what? Once you learn more magic, this will no longer be a problem. Besides, I'm still here."
Right, Harry suddenly realized with a jolt of clarity, Adrian was a wizard. If he could use a magical suggestion on his aunt once, he could naturally do it a second or third time.
Harry looked at Adrian, his eyes showing a glimmer of hope. "You'll help me, right?"
Hearing this, Adrian couldn't help but laugh, thinking this child must be silly.
"What else would I do? I'm your teacher, Harry," Adrian said, "Would I not help you?"
I am your teacher!
Harry was stunned by Adrian's response, and suddenly nothing seemed to worry him anymore. His furrowed brow relaxed, the anxiety in his eyes gradually dissipated, replaced by a relaxed smile.
This was a sense of security Harry had never experienced before.
At this moment, Adrian finally finished his breakfast and stood up, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied sigh.
"Alright, Harry," Adrian said, clapping his hands together, "break time is over. Since you're here early, we might as well make productive use of the time. Let's continue learning how to brew Blood-Replenishing Potion."
Harry's face instantly tensed up, his newborn relaxation evaporating at the mention of Potions.
............
That afternoon, Adrian went to Number 4 Privet Drive to help Harry solve the problem with his aunt, and also sent Harry back home, giving him a short break.
The suburban street was quiet in the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon, with most residents sensibly remaining indoors to escape the sun's intensity.
As Adrian rounded the corner back toward his shop and greenhouse, his satisfied mood shifted abruptly to surprise.
Standing in front of the entrance to his shop was a figure carrying a box and looking around.
The figure saw Adrian and waved his arm vigorously and shouted,
"Little Ed, over here!"
Upon hearing this familiar nickname, Adrian immediately recognized who it was.
Only one person would call Adrian "Little Ed," and that was Professor Kettleburn.
Adrian hurried over to Professor Kettleburn, walking quickly up to him with a smile. "Your speed is truly surprising, Professor. I believe I only sent the letter yesterday morning. I hadn't expected to see you so soon."
"Actually, I only received the letter from your owl last night," Professor Kettleburn explained, releasing Adrian's hand and patting his back with enough force to slightly knock the wind from him. His eyes sparkled with eagerness as he continued, "You mentioned in your letter that you had completed my prosthetics, so I rushed over immediately."
Seeing Professor Kettleburn's obvious eagerness, Adrian quickly led him inside the shop.
"I have everything ready, Professor," Adrian assured him as he unlocked the door and ushered him inside. The cool interior of the shop was a welcome relief from the afternoon heat, and Adrian quickly closed the door behind them, flipping the sign to "Closed" to ensure they wouldn't be interrupted during the fitting of the prosthetics.
Adrian had Professor Kettleburn wait in an armchair near the counter while he went to fetch the prosthetics.
With Professor Kettleburn watching expectantly, Adrian pulled out three long boxes from a heavy drawer behind the counter. These contained the prosthetics Professor Kettleburn needed—an arm, a leg, and a half-leg.
Adrian gently opened one of the boxes, revealing an arm-like object inside.
By this time, Professor Kettleburn couldn't contain his excitement any longer. He had risen from his chair and made his way towards him. As Adrian laid the boxes out, Kettleburn's eyes widened with childlike anticipation and he his new arm and began to examine it carefully.
From the outside, the prosthetic looked very simple, with no unnecessary decorations.
The ebony surface retained its natural grain pattern, smooth but not overly polished. The joints of the arm were carved with great precision, but overall, there were no deliberately added complex patterns or embellishments.
Adrian knew his professor didn't like fancy styles; he only needed limbs with excellent performance.