A rotund man stood on the doorstep with an obviously false smile plastered across his face.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Hermes asked.
“Get over here!” Vernon snapped, glaring at Harry, who was standing several steps behind him.
The moment he turned back toward Hermes, however, the anger vanished from his face, replaced by that same forced smile.
“It’s like this, Mr.
Moriarty.
Our family is planning to go out for the day, and we need someone to look after this boy who’s staying with us.”
As though afraid Hermes might refuse immediately, Vernon hurriedly added, “Don’t worry, he’s quiet and obedient.
He won’t cause you any trouble.”
He paused before continuing in a more ingratiating tone.
“I also understand that you’ve only recently moved in, so perhaps you could use some help around the house…”
Vernon gave Hermes a flattering smile, then placed one broad hand against Harry’s back and shoved him forward.
“I can personally guarantee that the boy is excellent at odd jobs, particularly housework.
He’s far more capable than most children his age!”
Hermes narrowed his eyes slightly.
Under Vernon’s increasingly nervous gaze, he remained silent for a moment before finally nodding.
“Thank you very much.”
Vernon immediately released a relieved breath, his smile becoming much more genuine.
He pushed Harry forward once again and added, “We’ll return to collect him this evening.”
Before his sentence had even finished, Vernon was already hurrying down the garden path toward the gate.
Judging by the speed of his retreat, one might have assumed Harry was either a terrifying beast or an exceptionally troublesome pest.
Harry watched Uncle Vernon leave and sighed helplessly.
It seemed he would not be able to play with Dudley’s new toys after all.
He had particularly wanted to try the computer.
Still, this was better than being sent to Mrs.
Figg’s house.
Every year on Dudley’s birthday, Harry was left with the eccentric old woman who lived two streets away.
He hated visiting her.
The entire house smelled strongly of cabbage, and Mrs.
Figg always forced him to look through endless photographs of every cat she had ever owned.
“Hello, sir.”
Harry adjusted the glasses held together with tape across the bridge of his nose, then looked up nervously at Hermes.
“My name is Harry…
Harry Potter.”
“Just call me Moriarty.”
With that brief introduction, Hermes stepped aside and opened the doorway for him.
Hermes had never intended to involve himself in the Dursley family’s trivial affairs.
At the moment, however, he did have several troublesome matters that desperately required the help of an assistant.
Harry cautiously stepped through the space Hermes had opened and looked inside the small house.
His mouth immediately fell open.
The interior bore no resemblance whatsoever to the modest building visible from Privet Drive.
Beyond the doorway lay the spacious main room of an old magical castle, filled with antique furniture, exposed mechanical components, and objects that belonged to another age.
Even the portion Harry could see from the entrance was larger than the entire house appeared from outside.
More astonishingly, a small dragon-like creature was wandering around the centre of the main room.
In the enormous fireplace beyond it, a living flame was using a spatula to flip a sizzling steak in a frying pan.
Harry stopped in the doorway as his entire understanding of the world began to collapse and rebuild itself.
“What are you standing there for?
Come inside.”
Hermes gave the stunned boy a brief glance before turning and walking back toward the table in the main room.
“Oh—right.
Sorry.”
Harry finally recovered from his daze.
After hastily apologising, he climbed the steps beyond the doorway and entered the Moving Castle’s main room.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk…”
The moment Harry stepped inside, the flame in the fireplace began to speak.
“Would you listen to that?
‘The boy is excellent at odd jobs, particularly housework.'”
Calcifer blinked his bright eyes as his scorching gaze swept over Harry from head to toe.
“From that description alone, I can already imagine what kind of miserable life the Savior of the British wizarding world has been living.”
He sighed dramatically, picked up a ladle resting beside him, and began stirring the pot of soup simmering over the fire.
Harry stared at him, uncertain whether he should be more astonished by the talking flame, the tiny dragon, or the fact that the flame had just called him a savior.
“Go to that cabinet and bring two sets of tableware,” Hermes instructed, pointing toward the kitchen cupboards.
“Huh?”
Harry remained completely bewildered, his gaze moving repeatedly between the young dragon and the living flame in the fireplace.
After a moment, he remembered Hermes’s instruction and hurried toward the indicated cabinet.
He soon returned carrying two plates, two bowls, and the necessary cutlery.
Hermes took the plates from him, then merely raised one finger and crooked it toward the fireplace.
Two steaks rose from the frying pan above Calcifer’s head, flew across the main room, and landed neatly in the centre of the plates.
After filling both bowls with a rich mushroom-and-meat soup, Hermes carried everything toward the dining table.
Harry watched the plates, bowls, and cutlery float beside Hermes before arranging themselves neatly across the table.
He could not help swallowing.
“What are you waiting for?” Hermes asked as he took his seat.
“You have work to do after you eat.”
Harry stared at the sizzling steak and the bowl of soup releasing a rich, creamy aroma.
He instinctively pointed to himself.
“Is this…
for me?”
Hermes nodded and calmly began slicing his own steak without offering any further explanation.
“Thank you, Mr.
Moriarty.”
After thanking him softly, Harry hesitantly sat at the dining table.
He looked at the polished cutlery arranged before him and appeared momentarily unsure of what to do.
Although he had eaten a strip of fried bacon and one egg not long ago, such a tiny portion was hardly enough for a growing child.
Years of never being properly fed were largely responsible for Harry’s thin, underdeveloped frame.
Drawn by the aroma of cooked meat, the waddling young dragon approached the table.
It flapped its delicate wings and repeatedly tried to leap onto the tabletop, but each attempt ended with it dropping back onto the floor.
“Haha!
Go ahead and eat,” Calcifer called from the fireplace while chewing on a steak of his own.
“There’s no need to be so nervous.
Only Hermes, me, and a few house-elves live in this castle.”
He swallowed another bite before adding, “Besides, you’ll need a full stomach if you’re going to work.
The task waiting for you today is…”
A complicated expression crossed Calcifer’s indistinct fiery face, containing equal parts sympathy and relief.
Harry glanced around the extraordinarily tidy main room and became even more confused.
There did not seem to be much work requiring his attention.
After years of being forced to handle nearly every household chore at Number Four, Privet Drive, Harry could tell at a glance whether a room needed cleaning.
This place was immaculate and clearly had no need for him to sweep, dust, or scrub anything.
As he ate his steak, Harry tried to imagine what kind of task Hermes could possibly have prepared for him.
Once he finally began to feel full, he lifted the bowl and drank the remaining mushroom soup in one long swallow.
Then he turned his curious gaze toward Hermes.
“Mr.
Moriarty…
are you a wizard?”
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