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The repetitive and exhausting training flew by, and in just over a month, everyone on Paradise Island had changed remarkably.
It wasn't just the tans deepened under the fierce summer sun, nor the muscles hardened and defined from the grueling workouts. Each carved line on their bodies bore witness to the sweat and strain they endured.
The bitter potions no longer made them wince; the overwhelming pain was now met with tightly clenched jaws instead of cries. Like hothouse flowers braving a storm, they emerged standing tall and confident under the clear skies, radiating a brilliance that set them apart from the crowd.
But the time to return was near. In less than two weeks, the new term at Hogwarts would begin, and they hadn't even touched the assignments their professors had set for them. The rest of the holiday would undoubtedly be spent in a last-minute scramble.
Harry, however, was an exception. With O's (Outstanding) in all seven of his required first-year courses, he was free from holiday homework meant to prevent students from forgetting the past year's knowledge. After all, for those who score 100%, it's only because there are no more points to be had.
Once everyone else had left using portkeys, Harry set off in a small canoe. The potion's effects, prolonged by the Philosopher's Stone, were wearing off; his strength was almost halved, and his body was returning to normal recovery rates. But he knew the remaining power wouldn't fade any further.
While everyone else grew stronger over the past month, Harry had also pushed himself to the limit. Thanks to the potion's exceptional regenerative properties, he managed to fuse his core muscles from shoulders to abs with his magic. If the Harry from today faced the Harry from a year ago, he could lift his former self with one hand and knock him out with a single slap.
Rowing back was simply to fine-tune his current physical strength. He didn't want to risk breaking his stainless steel cup by squeezing too hard while drinking water, and he definitely didn't want to accidentally crush his beloved cousin Dudley's ribs with a too-excited hug.
Of course, that would be a minor injury—just a spell and a potion would heal it. But if he could avoid it, he would; after all, Dudley was a kind-hearted kid and his dear big cousin.
Three days later, with his skin even darker, Harry dragged his canoe onto a beach. Without a map, he had no idea where he'd landed, and there were no visible signs of human activity nearby. But that was no issue for a wizard.
After changing into clean clothes, Harry raised his white ivory wand. Seconds later, a red flash shot toward him, and with a sharp screech, a double-decker bus with a bold red paint job slid across the sand, leaving deep tire tracks.
"Welcome aboard the Knight—uh, hey, mate, did you just get back from vacationing in Africa?" A tall, skinny young man with a few pimples asked, clearly surprised. "Or did you just sunbathe on this entire beach by yourself?"
"Something like that," Harry shrugged. "4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. By the way, can I skip the line? I'm in a bit of a rush."
"Of course, of course!" The tall youth nodded eagerly. The Knight Bus was a rather unscientific magical transport—its speed defied all logic, and it didn't follow any fixed routes like a normal bus. Whoever boarded and paid first would be dropped off first, regardless of how close someone else's destination might be. It wouldn't stop until you reached your turn.
"That'll be a bit extra, though. For Privet Drive, it's fifteen Sickles, plus half again, which makes it one Galleon, three Sickles, and fifteen Knuts. Need a cold drink? I've got coffee, tea, lemonade, and butterbeer."
"I'm Stan Shunpike, today's conductor," the quick-talking young man introduced himself, showing surprising speed with his calculations. To him, the wizarding world's confusing currency exchange rates seemed to require no thought at all, though Harry still found paying tedious—the exchange rates felt like an anti-human design.
"Keep the change; consider it a tip."
Harry flicked out two gleaming gold Galleons and settled onto a brass four-poster bed.
Just as the enthusiastic Stan was about to ask if Harry wanted a refreshing drink, Harry pulled out a bottle of vodka from his dragon-hide backpack and downed it in a couple of gulps. The alcohol-heavy hiccup that followed made Stan sneeze.
"Oh, Merlin above..." he mumbled as he thumped the back of the driver's seat. "Ernie, I think we've got ourselves a human dragon on board!"
"Is that so?" Ernie, the driver, craned his head around, catching sight of Harry inserting a straw into a second bottle of vodka. He shrugged at Stan. "Must be a Hebridean Black, but buy me a drink after work, alright? Our esteemed dragon here is bound for Privet Drive. Let's get him there right away!"
"Hold on tight!"
In appreciation of Harry's generous tip, Ernie, the driver, offered a rare warning before releasing the brake and slamming the accelerator. With a roar, the engine blasted, launching the Knight Bus forward like a cannonball. It crashed through a two-story-high rock wall in its path, barreling two miles to the nearest road in its typically chaotic style.
To this magical yet unscientific vehicle, obstacles were mere formalities; they would obediently "move" aside, clearing a path. The rocks gave way, and any houses in its path did the same.
The Knight Bus, which was less "driving" and more entering a series of rapid, short-distance jumps, moved as though propelled by a force akin to Apparition or portkeys. Anchored by coordinate markers scattered across England, it could travel through space, though it was limited to within England's borders since other countries wouldn't allow the Ministry of Magic to install similar markers abroad.
As for the "moving" obstacles, they were sidestepped using a modified version of the Undetectable Extension Charm. The bus was enclosed within an independent spatial bubble, separating it from the outside world. Rather than physically colliding with obstacles, it simply squeezed through its own temporary passage, creating the illusion of "moving" things aside.
When two solid objects meet, they collide, but space behaves more like a "fluid." Wizards liken it to an endless ocean. Apparition doesn't actually tear through space; rather, it rides hidden currents, almost like teleporting from one point to another. And magical energy serves as the Galleons for this "ride."
In just a few minutes and countless kilometers, Harry was transported from the deserted beach to the bustling Privet Drive.
"I'm back!" he called out, unlocking the front door. His voice echoed through the house, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.
"Harry! Harry!" Dudley's panicked shout came from the upstairs landing.
"It's terrible!" he gasped. "There's something strange in our house!"
(End of Chapter)