The firewood in the Moving Castle’s fireplace was replenished again and again, and the next few days passed far too quickly for Harry.
He still had to endure the cramped cupboard under the stairs and the Dursleys’ cold, hostile gazes whenever he returned to Number Four.
However, the wonders hidden inside Mr.
Moriarty’s castle—and the lively tea sets that could talk, walk, and quarrel among themselves—made it easy to forget those troubles.
“Uncle Hermes…”
Harry sat before a desk piled high with books on magic.
Through the nearby window, he could see an endless range of mountains rolling beneath the distant sky.
He hesitated for a moment before continuing somewhat sheepishly.
“I might have to go away for a while.”
As he spoke, Harry unconsciously tightened his grip on the parchment envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest.
A few days earlier, a letter had arrived at the Dursleys’ home.
It had been addressed to him.
Thanks to Hermes’s earlier explanation, Harry immediately understood that it was his acceptance letter from Hogwarts.
Unfortunately, before he could even open it, Uncle Vernon saw the envelope, snatched it from his hand with an ugly expression, tore it into pieces, and threw the remains into the fireplace.
That had only been the beginning.
Over the following days, flocks of owls descended upon Privet Drive.
Every shadow that passed the windows and every flutter of wings sent Vernon into a panic.
He closed the curtains, blocked the letter box, and even nailed the doors shut, determined not to catch another glimpse of an owl—or one of those accursed envelopes.
At the same time, he restricted Harry’s freedom and locked him inside the cupboard under the stairs.
The situation continued until Hermes intercepted one of the owls and used magic to deliver its letter directly into Harry’s hands.
Only then did the relentless assault of Hogwarts correspondence finally come to an end.
Remembering Uncle Vernon’s smug expression after the owls stopped coming, Harry felt some of the gloom in his heart fade.
“I don’t know whether the owls frightened him, but Uncle Vernon wants the whole family to leave Privet Drive for a while,” Harry explained.
Apparently, Vernon intended to keep running until it was time for Harry to begin attending Stonewall High in Dudley’s old, oversized uniform, while Dudley himself went off to Smeltings.
The thought made Harry anxious.
If he had never experienced the magical world, he might simply have accepted whatever arrangements the Dursleys made for him.
But everything was different now.
He knew that another world existed—a world to which he belonged—and he had already been offered a far better path.
Harry looked hopefully at Hermes.
“Uncle Hermes, can you help me change Uncle Vernon’s mind?”
He did not want to go to Stonewall High.
Hermes’s quill paused above the parchment.
“Don’t worry,” he replied calmly.
When Hermes intercepted Harry’s letter, he had deliberately prevented Harry from replying.
Since Hogwarts had not received confirmation of his enrollment, the school would inevitably send someone to investigate his circumstances in person.
Hermes set his quill down and slowly rose from his chair.
“We’ll stop here for today.
I need to leave for a while as well.”
Harry’s expression changed.
He sprang to his feet and asked nervously, “Then…
Uncle Hermes, will you come back?”
After spending so much time inside the Moving Castle, Harry had begun to understand some of its peculiarities.
Not only could the castle itself move, but its entrances could be changed at any time.
With a simple turn of the dial beside the door, it could open onto an entirely different place.
Harry was afraid that when Hermes left, he might remove the entrance connected to Privet Drive.
If that happened, Harry might never see him again.
“Don’t worry, Harry,” Calcifer said from atop a nearby candlestick.
He opened his eyes slightly and gave the boy a reassuring look.
“The entrance at Privet Drive will remain connected for the time being.
Once the school holidays begin, you’ll be welcome to stay in the castle whenever you like.”
Calcifer had an exceptionally favorable opinion of the so-called Savior who had taken over some of his more unpleasant chores.
“Alright.
I understand.”
Relief and happiness immediately appeared on Harry’s face.
He nodded firmly before looking back at Hermes.
“Uncle Hermes, I’ll miss you.”
Only a few days remained before the date listed on the Hogwarts letter.
Harry understood that once the school term began, he probably would not be able to return to the Moving Castle until the holidays.
Hermes waved dismissively and returned his quill to its holder.
“It’s getting late.
You should return home, and I should prepare to leave.”
He pointed to the book lying open before Harry.
“You may take The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 with you.
It will be one of your textbooks at Hogwarts.”
“I will.
Thank you.”
Harry nodded and carefully closed the book.
“Remember,” Calcifer added, blinking at him from the candlestick, “hide it somewhere safe. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Don’t let your aunt and uncle find it.”
After seeing Harry off, Hermes returned to the fireplace.
Without offering any warning, he reached directly into the flames, scooped Calcifer into his palm, kneaded the fire demon into a compact ball, and stuffed him into a concealed pocket inside his collar.
“H-Hermes…!”
Calcifer’s indignant voice came from within the collar.
A small tongue of flame squeezed out of the pocket, revealing his dissatisfied face.
“How are we getting to Hogwarts?”
As far as Calcifer knew, Hermes had never visited the school.
Since his improved teleportation magic could not take him somewhere he had never been, he could not simply appear inside Hogwarts.
That left only one obvious method.
The Floo Network mentioned in the appointment letter.
As for Hogwarts’s Anti-Apparition enchantments, Calcifer did not consider them much of an obstacle.
The magic Hermes used, combined with the inheritance of the Moving Castle, was no longer ordinary Apparition.
It was true spatial teleportation.
As Calcifer’s voice faded, Hermes stopped on his way toward the castle’s main doors.
A rare trace of solemnity appeared on his face.
…
Atop a towering cliff stood the immense structure of Hogwarts Castle.
Inside the Deputy Headmistress’s office, flickering lamplight cast Minerva McGonagall’s silhouette across the stone wall.
Seated behind her desk, Professor McGonagall had lost count of how many times she had raised her head to glance at the fireplace.
Eventually, she removed her square-framed spectacles and rubbed her aching eyes.
The warm golden light of the setting sun streamed through the tall, latticed windows, painting a long band of light across the dark wooden floor.
A trace of confusion lingered on McGonagall’s face.
The new students were due to arrive in only two days, yet the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor mentioned by Dumbledore had still not reported to the school.
For someone as meticulous as McGonagall, such a delay was naturally troubling.
At that moment, a deafening clap of thunder erupted over the Forbidden Forest.
The muffled roar rolled across the distant horizon and rattled the windows.
McGonagall immediately put her spectacles back on, rose from her chair, and walked toward the window.
A vast shadow was rapidly spreading across the edge of the sky.
The storm clouds had appeared without warning.
It was as though an invisible hand had dragged them in from above the distant sea, gathering and compressing them into a dark, churning mass that raced toward Hogwarts with unnatural speed.
In the blink of an eye, the castle’s highest towers were swallowed by shadow.
The windowpanes before McGonagall began to tremble, while the owls in the distance scattered in panic, fleeing in every direction.