Harry Potter: Days Mixed in Hogwarts

Winter had come once again, and Loren Morgan was now ten years old.

Snow covered the hills, the branches of the trees, and the thatched roof of the cottage, blanketing the world in white.

Peter no longer tended the sheep, as everyone had already stocked up on winter provisions and hay for the livestock. The townsfolk stayed indoors, making handmade crafts to sell in the city, exchanging them for daily necessities.

On sunny days, Mr. Bates wouldn't let Loren go up the mountain, saying the glare could damage his eyes. When he had nothing else to do, Loren would catch small animals in the woods or forage for edible winter plants. But most of the time, he had to attend school.

Mr. Bates had prepared some old textbooks and a dictionary in advance. With nothing better to do, Loren flipped through them and soon mastered their content by helping teachers and church members copy documents and letters. Mr. Bates said he would achieve great things one day.

The school was in the town below the mountain. Every morning, Mr. Bates would take Loren down on a sled, and at night, he would carry him back home. The days passed by in this routine.

On Christmas Eve, a traveling performance troupe arrived in town. Loren had made plans with Peter to watch their show together.

The trees lining the streets were decorated with red ribbons and fairy lights, and festive music played in the shops. The restaurants and pubs were packed, their warm yellow lighting making the atmosphere even cozier.

Peter and Loren were both wrapped in oversized wool sweaters and sheepskin coats, each wearing a gray-and-white striped scarf.

Loren kept his hands tucked in his pockets, watching as Peter wolfed down a roasted sweet potato bought from a street vendor.

"This band is really strange. They call themselves the 'Norn Three Goddesses,' but all the members are men." Loren thought for a moment. "Britain in the '80s didn't have 23 genders yet, right?"

"Why do you even care? Just enjoy the show," Peter said, completely unbothered.

"There's still a while before the performance starts. There's a little market over there—wanna take a look?" Loren was interested. He had saved up a bit of pocket money.

"You go ahead. I'd rather sit inside than stand out here freezing," Peter shook his head.

Loren left Peter to save their seats and headed for the market.

The small market was set up in the alley behind the performance hall, where local vendors took advantage of the town's rare bustling moment to sell trinkets and crafts.

There were woolen socks, gloves, Easter eggs, Russian nesting dolls—everything from the ordinary to the bizarre. Loren even spotted a Chinese nine-ring puzzle. But he was just browsing out of curiosity and didn't intend to buy anything.

As he reached the street corner, he noticed an elderly man sitting there. He was thin, dressed in a neatly pressed suit, with white hair and a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.

In front of the old man was a blanket made of some unknown animal's fur, and on it sat only two large books.

Strangely, the passersby and vendors seemed to completely ignore him, as if he were invisible. Loren found this odd and walked up to him.

"Hello, sir. May I take a look at these books?" Loren greeted him politely.

Hearing the child's voice, the old man lifted his head, looking somewhat surprised that someone had actually noticed him.

Loren met his gaze, staring into the deep-set eyes within his wrinkled face. He couldn't quite describe their color—only that they seemed ancient, mysterious, as if they could pull him in.

"Of course, they're for sale," the old man replied with a carefree smile.

Loren crouched down and reached for the books. One was in English, titled A Comprehensive Guide to Hieroglyphs. It was even thicker than a dictionary, with handwriting that looked carefully copied by hand. The material resembled parchment.

The other book had no title. The moment Loren touched it, his mind suddenly went blank for an instant. When he opened the cover, he felt as if he were being pulled into the book itself. The feeling lasted only a split second before vanishing, making him wonder if it was just his imagination.

The inside cover stated that it had been written by someone named Abraham, but the rest of the text was in a language Loren couldn't understand.

There were also some illustrations, and the pages felt as thin and soft as tree bark. The book wasn't very thick, its pages bound together with bronze rings.

Both books seemed to contain some kind of esoteric knowledge.

"How much?" Loren decided to buy them for leisure reading.

"Oh? You're really planning to buy them?" The old man looked genuinely pleased.

"Of course, if the price is reasonable." Loren was wary that the old man might raise the price out of nowhere.

"If you don't mind me asking… do you do any kind of transcription work?" The old man seemed more interested in Loren himself than in selling the books.

Loren didn't quite understand what he meant, but he answered honestly, "Yes, I help my teachers and the church copy documents and letters."

"Hahaha! Wonderful! That's truly interesting." The old man burst into laughter.

When he had first acquired The Book of Abraham, he had been thrilled—until he translated part of the introduction, which read: "Any who are not High Priests or Scribes shall be cursed for reading this book."

Before passing it on, he had casually asked if Loren did transcription work, and sure enough, the answer was exactly what he had expected.

Looking at the boy before him, the old man felt as if he were looking at himself from centuries ago.

Seeing that Loren looked a little spooked, he added, "Ah, my apologies. I was just reminded of something from a long time ago."

He didn't elaborate further but instead wrapped the two books in the fur blanket and handed them to Loren.

"Thirteen pounds will do," he said casually.

Loren felt a strange sensation—he had exactly thirteen pounds on him. Was it just a coincidence, or did this old man have some kind of ulterior motive? He seemed mysterious.

He handed over the money and took the books.

The old man pocketed the money, adjusted his suit, then turned and walked away. "Well then, we'll meet again, Loren."

This kid already had traces of magical energy in him. The Book of Admittance surely knew his name. They would meet again.

Loren nodded stiffly, still stuck on the thought of where that old man had stashed his coffee and stool. He really seemed like some kind of conman.

He decided to treat the books as simple storybooks—if he couldn't understand them, he wouldn't bother looking up any information.

TV shows always played out the same way: a mysterious stranger gives you a mysterious object, and the more you investigate, the deeper you fall into their carefully set trap.

People like that were never up to anything good!

When Loren arrived at the performance hall, the show had already begun.

He scanned the room and spotted Peter near the front row on the right side of the stage.

Peter saw him too and waved excitedly. "Hey! Loren! Over here! This band is actually pretty cool!"

After greeting each other, Loren sat down beside Peter and started watching the performance.

The stage was filled with long-haired male musicians, but it wasn't as wild as Loren had imagined—no extreme rock or hip-hop. Instead, they played a mix of different musical styles, performing like a professional band.

The performers energized the audience, who clapped, cheered, and laughed along. It was a rare moment of joy for the small town.

Around him, people were discussing how unique the music was.

"This band is amazing!"

"They'll definitely release their own album after this tour!"

"They're going to be famous!"

A group of young people chattered excitedly.

Loren, who had been feeling a bit unsettled, found himself relaxing as he listened to the music.

On a winter night like this, during a Christmas like this, he started missing Grandpa Bates's cheese, Sister Joyce's warm hugs, and even the biscuits Mr. Bumble had once given him…

Wait—what did those biscuits taste like again?

Time had passed so quickly that Loren realized he could no longer even remember what Mr. Bumble looked like…