0123 Watson Manor

0123 Watson Manor

"Why did I take on this task?" Harry muttered to himself as he lay on his narrow bed, feeling every bone in his body ache. He had just endured a long and exhausting day, and he wished he could erase it from his memory. He took off his round glasses and closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep quickly and forget his troubles.

The reason why he was so tired was not because today was the day of the big cleanup, when he had to scrub the floors, dust the furniture, and wash the dishes for the Dursleys. Nor was it because he had been busy in the garden all day, trimming the lawn, sprinkling manure on the delicate flowers in the flowerbed surrounded by the fence, and dodging the angry bees that buzzed around his head. In fact, the Dursleys didn't assign him any household chores today.

It was because, since the matter was settled at breakfast, in order to avoid Harry making a mistake when visiting the Watson Manor tomorrow, they gave him an emergency training.

From the posture of walking, the expression of smiling, the tone of greeting to the etiquette of dining, they tirelessly and endlessly told him all kinds of details, which were as boring and tedious as the only ghost professor's history of magic course at Hogwarts. Harry had to practice how to shake hands, how to bow, how to compliment, how to eat with a fork and knife, and how to avoid any mention of his magical school.

The bedroom light was off, but the living room downstairs was still brightly lit, and there was a rustling noise from time to time, which was Aunt Petunia making a decent dress for Harry urgently. Before going to bed, they realized that Harry didn't seem to have a decent dress that was suitable for visiting those upper-class people. He only had his old and worn-out clothes, which he had inherited from his cousin Dudley, who was much bigger and fatter than him.

It was too late to go out and buy one now that the night was deep and the shops were closed. After a lot of fuss, Aunt Petunia, who suddenly became much smarter for her husband's future and the family's wealthy life, remembered the dress they had prepared for Dudley last summer to entertain the Mason couple, the builders. The Masons were another potential client of Uncle Vernon, and he had invited them to dinner at their house, hoping to seal the deal with them.

That brand-new dress Dudley only wore once and never wore again, because with the speed of Dudley's body expansion, he rarely had clothes that could last for two years. It was a dark blue suit, with a white shirt, a red tie, and shiny black shoes. It was supposed to make Dudley look elegant and mature, but it only made him look like a giant balloon.

Now, Aunt Petunia only needed to cut open that dress and sew it up, and she could make two or three dresses for Harry with those fabrics. She was not very skilled at sewing, but she was very fast and determined. She used scissors, needles, threads, and pins to transform the suit into something that could barely fit Harry's slim figure. She didn't care about the quality or the style, as long as it looked decent enough to fool the Watsons.

"Why did I have to take on this task!" Harry buried his head in the quilt and hammered the bed with regret, but in fact, he knew the reason. He had agreed to go with the Dursleys to the Watson Manor, not because he wanted to please them or to help them, but because he had a plan of his own.

Not only because this was a great opportunity to get back his magic books and flying broom, which the Dursleys had locked away in the cupboard under the stairs, fearing that Harry would use them to cause trouble. Harry had missed his books and his broom terribly, especially since he had not received any letters from his friends at Hogwarts for the whole summer.

But also because he wanted to teach the Dursleys a lesson. The Dursleys always treated magic with the most contemptuous attitude, they always called magic a trick to fool people, a freakish and unnatural thing. Harry was very angry about this, but helpless, as he was not allowed to use magic outside of school, under the threat of expulsion. But the appearance of this matter gave Harry a chance, if he could really play a role, then the Dursleys might be able to take magic a little more seriously.

In this way, before he graduated from Hogwarts, the few summers he had to go through might be a little better than now. He might be able to get more freedom, more privacy, more respect, and more fun.

Harry thought so, and fell asleep with the mechanical cutting sound.

But now, Uncle Vernon was acting like a polite and humble guest, and he was trying to please the guard, who looked at him with scrutiny and suspicion. He checked his name on a list, and he nodded slightly. He pressed a button, and the gate opened slowly. He gestured for them to enter, and he said coldly, "Follow the path, and wait at the door. Someone will come to greet you."

Since outside vehicles were not allowed to enter the mansion, Harry had to follow the Dursleys, who were holding flowers and fruit baskets, and walk towards the mansion. They walked along the straight road paved with warm stone, which felt smooth and soft under their feet. They passed by statues, hedges, and flower beds, which were arranged in symmetrical and harmonious patterns.

Perhaps because of the serious illness of the owner of the mansion, the closer they got to the mansion, the more solemn the air became. Even the workers who passed by them and bowed to them had very serious expressions on their faces. They spoke in low voices, and moved quickly and efficiently.

Through all this, Harry probably understood that the owner of the mansion was in a very bad physical condition.

"Ah, Mr. Lawrence–" Uncle Vernon, whose red face was covered with sweat, suddenly exclaimed with joy. He left behind Aunt Petunia, who was walking stiffly, and walked towards a thin man with shiny hair, a small mustache above his lips, wearing a suit without a wrinkle, who looked quite old. He was standing at the door of the mansion, and he was holding a clipboard and a pen, and he seemed to be in charge of everything.

"That's Mr. Watson's butler,"

Aunt Petunia whispered, tilting her head slightly.

"He has been conveying Mr. Watson's instructions for the past two years, very trusted, remember to be respectful to him, especially you!"

Harry of course knew who the 'you' in Aunt Petunia's reminder was. He glanced at the butler and wondered why he suddenly thought of the very unpopular castle caretaker Filch at Hogwarts.

'Maybe they both do similar jobs–'

Harry, who barely squeezed out a smile at Lawrence, thought to himself.

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