Chapter 65: A New Life
"Mr. Dursley, thank you very much for your hospitality today, but it's getting late. My wife and I should be going now," Mr. Mason said, taking his wife by the hand and briskly heading toward the door.
Seeing the still-shaken trio, Mr. Mason paused for a moment and added, "Jones Douglas is a renowned lawyer, often called 'the Bald Man.' There's no case he can't win—every defendant he represents ends up receiving the harshest possible sentence."
Before the Dursleys could react, Mr. Mason and his wife quickly left.
Hearing Mason's final words, Vernon's emotions finally began to settle. I watched his face change color repeatedly—turning red, then white, then dark, then green. The flurry of emotions he experienced in just a few minutes was equivalent to what he had gone through over an entire year in previous times.
Trembling, he pulled out the documents from his suit pocket and began scrutinizing them. In the dim light, the dense small print made his eyes widen involuntarily.
He pressed his face close to the paper, the clean white sheets leaving streaks on his forehead from the oil on his skin. One line made him freeze: "Abuse of family members, imprisonment from five to ten years; repeat offenders will receive cumulative punishment."
He remembered Mason mentioning earlier that any defendant facing Jones Douglas had been sentenced to the harshest punishment. Suddenly, Vernon felt dizzy, as if a massive stone pressed against his chest, making it hard to breathe. His mouth hung open as he fainted on the spot. Aunt Petunia, witnessing the scene, felt as if the nightmare hadn't ended and that she was still dreaming. She too collapsed to the floor.
Only Dudley looked panicked and bewildered. He scrambled to fetch a jug of water to pour on his parents' faces. This only elicited another scream. In his flustered state, he grabbed the wrong container of hot water, causing yet another scream.
Meanwhile, George had taken Harry to 18 Privet Drive.
"I'm not great at giving gifts, and I don't have time to fuss too much," George said, "but I know having gifts secretly delivered under the fence doesn't feel right." Memories of long-ago experiences surfaced in his mind.
In his past life, he had just graduated from college and started working. Jobs were scarce during a stagnating economy in China, and wages were low. Meanwhile, housing prices skyrocketed nationwide, ranking among the highest in the world. He earned Third World wages but lived in housing more expensive than in the First World.
After paying rent for a small room, his monthly income barely covered basic living expenses. Thinking back on all the changes between lives, he realized how surreal life had been.
"Since you'll spend most of your time at school and won't be back much, I didn't bother finding a better place—this is yours now," George said, handing a set of keys to Harry.
Harry took the keys with trembling hands. He knew it was inappropriate, but he truly did not want to return to the Dursleys. "This is too expensive," he whispered for the last time.
"Consider it an advance on your salary. After graduation, you can work at my company," George said. He didn't really care whether Harry would ever take the job. At this moment, all that mattered was giving him a reason to smile—a reason everyone could be happy about.
"Money really is a wonderful thing," George muttered as Harry held the keys. He stumbled a little, opening the door as if he were carrying a trunk. He sighed, recalling the thrill of earning large sums of money in the past. Though money had gradually become less important to him, he had never forgotten its value.
Money might not solve everything, but being without it is undeniably difficult. Whether chasing dreams or avoiding risks, money is indispensable. For Harry now, as for George in the past, this sum meant far more than numbers—it represented the closeness of dreams and the removal of hardships.
Whether in the gloomy days of the past or the vibrant life of the present, George never deceived himself, nor did he feign excitement to mock money.
Of course, money cannot buy everything, but it can help you reject everything you despise. In pursuing dreams and overcoming hardships, money opens doors and opportunities. The only criticism should be for those who earn through harming others; otherwise, earning money legally and reasonably is never vulgar. To belittle others for wealth or poverty is the true vice.
"July 31, 1992, is a perfect day—the best birthday I've had in twelve years," Harry wrote in his notebook.
"Mr. Potter, you should come downstairs for dinner," a red-haired middle-aged woman called from below.
Her name was Barbara Brooke, a kind-hearted housewife living on Privet Drive. Now employed by George, she would take care of Harry's daily needs throughout the summer.
Most importantly, Harry was finally free from the Dursleys. God knows how happy he was. All the happiness he had gained over the past ten years on Privet Drive seemed to add up overnight.
"This really is a magical birthday—just like last year," Harry whispered, setting down his pen and stepping out of the bedroom. It would have been rude to keep waiting.
Though only a single day had passed, it felt like several centuries—perhaps precisely because it was only one day. Everything had happened too quickly, too unexpectedly, and too wonderfully.
Yesterday, even at dinner at the Dursleys' house, no one had paid attention to Harry. He had eaten some poor-quality food beforehand to fill his stomach and then spent the night hiding in the dark attic. He had to act as if he didn't exist to avoid being noticed by the dinner guests and disrupting Vernon's business.
Perhaps he would have to go downstairs to clean up afterwards, tidying the leftover soup once the guests left. In fact, today was his birthday, and this was how he was going to spend his twelfth birthday.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing—after all, for many people, birthdays aren't particularly special or joyful. At least, Harry had always thought so over the past ten years, and his birthdays had never truly been happy.
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