Chapter 484: Party

Aunt Petunia’s words carried a deep-seated fear that Harry could not fully grasp.

But he understood that the wizarding world was not safe.

He looked into the mirror:

He was thin and small for his age, but he had grown a few inches over the past year.

Yet his jet-black hair remained just as it always had—wild and unruly no matter how much he tried to tame it;

Behind the lenses, his eyes were a vivid green, and through his messy bangs, a thin scar shaped like a lightning bolt was clearly visible.

Of all Harry’s unusual traits, this scar was the most extraordinary.

It was not, as the Dursleys had claimed for ten years, a souvenir from the car crash that killed his parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash.

They were murdered—killed by Voldemort, the most terrifying dark wizard in a century.

Harry had survived the attack, leaving only this scar on his forehead.

Voldemort’s curse had not killed Harry; it had rebounded upon himself.

Voldemort had become neither dead nor alive, and fled…

And Harry had encountered him again at Hogwarts.

At that moment, Harry could not help but think of Xiang Xiang Xien.

The quiet Xiang Xiang Xien who read books, the Xiang Xiang Xien who walked through Hogwarts at night with a bloodstained sword, the Xiang Xiang Xien who had led them against Voldemort time and again.

Harry looked up; the afternoon sun blazed directly onto the terrace.

Clouds stretched lazily across the horizon, not a single star to be seen.

But Harry knew that when night came, when facing the dark wizards, they would always find the stars.

They had always been there, high in the sky.

As Harry’s thoughts drifted, the doorbell rang.

Harry ran downstairs to open the door; the sun hung above the tidy garden, illuminating the brass number 4 on the Dursleys’ front door, and its light gently touched the visitor’s face.

“Mr. Potter.”

Outside stood a serious-looking woman wearing square glasses.

She wore a emerald-green cloak, her jet-black hair pulled into a tight bun.

She showed a barely perceptible excitement, but more than that, an kindness Harry rarely saw.

“Professor McGonagall, you—I mean, how did you…”

Harry never expected it to be Professor McGonagall.

Memories of his past misdeeds flooded his mind as if time had reversed, and his expression grew tense without warning.

“I’m here to accompany Mr. Green… to deliver some invitations.”

Professor McGonagall was a wizard who valued propriety; Harry gently took the envelope from Xiang Xiang Xien’s hand, reading the unspoken cue in her eyes.

“What kind of invitation…”

Harry was confused.

What could possibly require a professor to deliver it in person?

He instinctively glanced at Xiang Xiang Xien; the black-haired young wizard’s confusion matched his own.

Xiang Xiang Xien could not recall any major event coming up.

Together, he and Harry stared in bewilderment at the invitation with its silver trim.

[Dear Mr. Potter:

You are cordially invited to Mr. Green’s birthday party.

The party will be held on July 27th]

Harry snapped his head up:

“Xiang Xiang Xien, your birthday?!”

“My birthday?”

Xiang Xiang Xien stared, dazed, then slowly realized.

“Oh, Xiang Xiang Xien.”

Harry looked at him for a long time, silent.

Until an owl landed beside the window, he asked carefully,

“You’ve never celebrated your birthday?”

Listening to their conversation, Minerva McGonagall suddenly felt a bitter taste lingering in her throat.

…

The night of July 26th.

Twelve o’clock sharp.

Stars glittered.

The twenty-seventh owl flew into Ravenclaw Tower.

Xiang Xiang Xien’s room was already filled with gifts.

Since acquiring the magical hand mirror, wizards’ communication had improved dramatically.

Though no one knew who had spread the news, Xiang Xiang Xien had received gifts from the alchemical community, overflowing his small cabin.

In addition, letters and gift boxes had arrived from the suburban farm, London, and Hogwarts Castle.

Xiang Xiang Xien opened the latest large box.

Inside was another wrapped gift—a card and a letter from Hermione.

[Dear Xiang Xiang Xien:

I hope you are well.

If you are well, then…]

The magical hand mirror trembled slightly on the table; Xiang Xiang Xien could see the miniature image of Professor McGonagall forming a troubled face.

“Good evening, Hermione.”

Xiang Xiang Xien whispered softly.

A breeze brushed past the stained-glass windows of Ravenclaw Tower; on the table behind them sat a stack of fruit platters.

Through the cool, refreshing mung bean juice, faint shapes of peaches, cherries, and melons could be seen.

“You found your birthday, Xiang Xiang Xien…”

She spoke her first sentence, then could say nothing more.

“Hagrid showed me the Book of Admittance.”

Xiang Xiang Xien said.

“Happy birthday, that’s all I wanted to say—I had to tell you.

It’s a wonderful holiday, and I celebrate it with all my heart. We all do.

If anyone doesn’t care about it, I’d say they’re all fools.”

Hermione finished in a muffled voice, then her face vanished into the rippling mirror surface.

In the end, the young wizard saw her shoulders trembling.

Xiang Xiang Xien stared at one spot for a long time, his gaze silent and unfocused.

He opened the letter again and read it.

[Xiang Xiang Xien.

I’m currently on vacation in France; as soon as I received the invitation, I rushed back.

I won’t miss it—not ever.

I bought your gift through owl post—it was advertised in the Daily Prophet (the paper arrives daily; it’s wonderful to stay updated on the wizarding world).

Have you seen the photo of Ron and his family taken a week ago? I bet he’s learned a lot.

I envy him—Egyptian wizards are incredibly fascinating. There are also some interesting local histories of magic here.

I’ve finished my History of Magic essay, including everything I discovered here; I hope it’s not too long—it’s two scrolls longer than Professor Binns required.

How about yours?

I really want to see you, Xiang Xiang Xien. I miss you so much—let’s meet on the festival of July 27th!

Hermione, with greetings, P.S.:

Ron says Percy became Head Boy. I imagine Percy is thrilled. Ron doesn’t seem happy about it.]

Xiang Xiang Xien set Hermione’s letter aside and picked up her gift.

It was heavy—a thick book filled with complex spells and Hermione’s collected notes on fascinating magical histories.

Xiang Xiang Xien slowly raised his head, gazing from the shadow of the castle tower at the gentle, drifting clouds, watching owls curve through the air stirred by the breeze.

The trees of the Forbidden Forest and the hills were soft and green. The fields were damp and warm.

They emitted a scent blending blooming grass, alfalfa, daisies, and rye.

The locust blossoms were falling.

The world was growing more beautiful.