By around noon, they had arrived at the Isle of Wight.
"The scenery is indeed pleasant," Sirius said, spreading his arms and taking a deep breath.
One had to admit, the Isle of Wight was truly beautiful; nothing could be more suitable for a holiday.
They arrived at a hotel called Yelf's. Situated in a popular area, it was only an eight-minute walk from the beach—a prime location.
Most importantly, this hotel consisted of two buildings—one was open to Muggles, while the other was shielded by Muggle-Repelling Charms and reserved exclusively for wizards.
Naturally, as wizards, Harry and his party had booked the wizarding section of the hotel.
From the outside, the hotel didn't appear particularly grand, but upon entering, they discovered it was a world of its own.
This was a typical wizarding trait; the Undetectable Extension Charm, after all, allowed for infinite utility within a finite space.
"Allocate the rooms yourselves," Sirius said, holding a stack of number plates. "Hmm... married couples may share a room. As for the unmarried children, as your elder, I do not suggest you live together in the same room."
As he spoke, Sirius's gaze was fixed firmly on the ceiling.
"Alright then." Harry took the number plate for 201 and said to Sirius, "I'll go up first—201, nice number. I wonder how the view is."
Everyone collected their own number plates and happily went to their respective rooms.
The first thing Ron did upon entering his room was to unfold a piece of parchment and write to Seamus and Neville, who hadn't come along.
In the letter, he sang the praises of the Isle of Wight's scenery and suggested they come over quickly.
Being idle at home was just being idle; they might as well come here to wander around.
After watching Pigwidgeon leave the room, Ron knocked on Hermione's door.
"Ron?" Hermione had just changed her clothes. Upon seeing Ron, she smiled happily. "Is something the matter?"
"Just looking to chat," Ron smiled. "Is it convenient?"
"Mhm, come in." Hermione glanced out into the hallway. "I actually had some things to say to you too—well, what are you waiting for? Is standing outside that interesting?"
As for Harry... after entering his room, he lay directly onto the bed.
He sank into the mattress, which was as soft as a cloud, and didn't want to get up at all.
Sigh, he was too tired; he really should take a nap.
Thinking this, he groggily drifted into dreamland.
Until he was shouted awake by Sirius.
"Time to get up, Harry," Sirius said, shaking him. "It's time for dinner. Think about it, what should we eat?"
"I don't know either," Harry yawned. "What's good on the Isle of Wight? Anything distinctive to the island?"
"Let's talk outside." Sirius patted Harry on the shoulder and walked out first.
Standing outside, Harry asked in passing, "Where's Newt? How come I haven't seen them?"
"Newt has already gone to sleep," Sirius explained with a smile. "He seemed to be busy until very late last night, so he hasn't rested yet. apparently, it was because of a certain magical beast at home—the one from Seres; it was acting up a bit."
"The Zouwu, right?" Harry said. "I remember that magical beast. It looks a bit like a cat, just several sizes larger."
Sirius didn't know what a Zouwu looked like; if he did, he would certainly have retorted:
You call that "just several sizes larger"?
"So, decided on what to eat?" Sirius asked. "Hermione just told me she looked up recommendations on the Isle of Wight in detail. There's a restaurant called 'The Little Gloster' that's quite good; their oysters and Danish meatballs are very famous."
"Oysters, huh..." Harry suddenly recalled a short story by Maupassant he had once read, describing a scene where the protagonist watched noblewomen eating oysters on a boat. He still remembered it to this day.
He had read that story a long time ago. Ideally, at that time, Maupassant would have still been alive.
And he wasn't wrong. After all, Harry read the novel when he was in the second grade of primary school, and Maupassant passed away in 1893—if Harry hadn't returned to a hundred years later, he would have just been starting his seventh year in 1893.
"Or we could go to Royal China," Sirius suggested again. "They say it's a rather famous Chinese restaurant. We should switch up the flavors, shouldn't we?"
"Chinese food works too." Harry's interest was piqued. "I happen to have some understanding of Chinese cuisine."
This was indeed true. A hundred years ago, Harry's Care of Magical Creatures professor was Professor Howin from the Ming Kingdom.
Ah, right. Although Seres was the Qing Kingdom at that time, Professor Howin always emphasized that she was not a person of Qing, but of Ming.
Harry didn't really understand the difference; weren't they both Seres?
"I want to eat Chinese food too!" Hermione suddenly appeared beside them. "Ron wants to eat it too, right? Ron?"
"Oh, I indeed also want to eat it." There was clearly no emotion in Ron's tone.
If you're being threatened, just blink, Ron!
Dinner didn't necessarily have to be eaten together; everyone could choose the restaurant they liked.
However, they generally needed to show a united front of blending in with Muggles and couldn't appear too out of place, so the whole group marched grandly into the Chinese restaurant.
Fortunately, there were relatively large private rooms inside.
"Let's order." Harry took the menu with brimming confidence. "I'm telling you, I've eaten a lot of delicious Chinese food, for example..."
He looked down.
No, what the hell is this General Tso's Chicken?
And what on earth is this Orange Chicken?
Dazzled and confused, he spent a long time choosing before finally ordering Kung Pao Chicken. This was considered a dish he was relatively familiar with from Professor Howin.
"Eat up," Sirius said cheerfully. "After all, it counts as trying something new—by the way, I recall Cedric's little girlfriend is a person of Seres, right?"
"Yes," Cedric's face suddenly turned red. "Her name is Cho Chang, from Ravenclaw."
"Oh~" Sirius made a meaningful sound. "A girl from the house of eagles—well, back when I was at school, I had quite a good relationship with the female students of Ravenclaw."
Indeed, good; it was just that no one here knew Sirius's background, otherwise, they would have exposed him completely.
Those fangirls of Sirius were basically all from Ravenclaw House.
The dishes were served quickly. Harry only took a few bites and felt that while it wasn't quite the same as what Professor Howin made, it was still pretty good.
Especially the sweet and sour General Tso's Chicken; it was actually delicious.
"Zuo Zongtang should be a person's name, right?" Harry asked while sucking on his chopsticks. "Why is it called General Tso's Chicken? Did he invent this dish?"
"Probably not," Miss Know-It-All Hermione said. "As far as I know, Zuo Zongtang was a general in Seres. I don't know why they used his name to title it either."
After eating, the group left the restaurant and returned to the hotel.
They sat down in the lobby on the second floor. Since they had booked out the entire second floor, the lobby naturally belonged to their use as well.
"I'll go get something good." Mr. Granger walked back to his room mysteriously and returned a moment later holding a colorful little box.
"What is this?" Sirius was interested.
"Good stuff." Mr. Granger smiled, taking a small knife to unseal the box.
The children gathered around with interest, seeing the words "Romeo Y Julieta" written on the box.
"Romeo and Juliet?" Hermione's eyes lit up. "Is it a novel? or is it some new product?"
"It seems even Miss Know-It-All has moments where she doesn't know." Mr. Granger patted the box, teasing his daughter with a smile. "This is good stuff from 'TPLAC's'."
"TPLAC?" Ron asked, puzzled.
"Abbreviation for 'Tin Pot Little Atlantic County's', some small island nation in the Atlantic," Hermione explained to him without turning her head. "I know what this is—cigars!"
"Yes." Mr. Granger opened the box, revealing the cigars inside. Apart from the brand label, they also bore a gold label printed with 'Churchills'.
"Churchill's favorite," Mr. Granger took out the cigars and distributed one to every adult male present who smoked.
Sirius was a veteran smoker; he took the cigar and asked Mr. Granger, "How do you smoke this thing? Just hold it in your mouth?"
Saying so, he clamped the cigar in his mouth.
"You don't say," Hermione suddenly remarked. "Looking at it this way—if Sirius were a bit fatter, he really would look a little like Churchill."
"Really?" Sirius was somewhat proud. "I know Churchill—the Muggles' Prime Minister, right? A figure even more powerful than the Minister for Magic... Hmm, a very famous politician."
"Looks like you'll soon become the Churchill of the wizarding world," Hermione said sarcastically. "Oh, I mean, from various angles—whether it's waking up every morning to drink whisky, or smoking this kind of long-sized cigar."
"Oh, you can't call that whisky." Sirius raised his eyebrows humorously. "That is merely the good medicine that cures my autism—"
Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored him.
The children didn't find inhaling secondhand smoke particularly interesting, so they left this group of cloud-puffing adults and returned to their respective rooms.
Poppy Sweating suddenly appeared, following behind Harry back into his room.
"Why did you follow me?" Harry asked curiously.
"I'm just seeing what you're going to do back in the room." Poppy Sweating looked left and right, then asked him, "Admit it, are you planning to lie on the bed and sleep?"
"You caught me." Harry didn't feel awkward in the slightest.
"You forgot the most important thing!" Poppy Sweating put her hands on her hips. "Don't you think your top priority right now is to give Veratia a call?"
You don't say, that actually made a lot of sense. Harry felt this suggestion was definitely worth listening to.
"Indeed, you're right." He nodded immediately, took out his crystal ball, and dialed Veratia.
Poppy Sweating shrank back and quietly slipped out of Harry's room.
She didn't plan on staying there to be a third wheel. Otherwise, if Veratia saw her there, and if she said something else, it would be impossible to explain clearly.
Before long, Veratia connected the call.
"Harry?" She looked somewhat exhausted. "You've arrived at the Isle of Wight?"
"Yes." Harry nodded. "We arrived in the afternoon. We just ate outside. Sirius and the others are smoking out there, so I came back to give you a call."
"Oh." Veratia reached out and rubbed her temples. "How long do you plan to stay on the Isle of Wight? Or are you heading back in a few days?"
"We'll be here the whole summer holidays; it's not expensive anyway," Harry said with a chuckle. "Will you come over? Poppy Sweating and Cassandra both miss you very much."
"I will come over," Veratia smiled and said. "However—you said Cass misses me? Really?"
"Of course it's true," Harry laughed. "Don't look at how she usually acts, but in reality, she... well, actually likes you quite a bit."
Veratia couldn't hold it back and laughed out loud.
"Harry, oh Harry, you really can't lie at all," Veratia said helplessly. "That fellow Cassandra wishes I would vanish from this world right now, so how could she possibly miss me? Or perhaps, what you said is correct in certain circumstances: she does miss me, but she probably misses me hoping I'll disappear quickly—"
"Don't think of your good friends in a bad light, Veratia," Harry said seriously. "You are both my wings; I really don't wish for you two to quarrel."
"Heh..." Veratia's smile suddenly turned gentle.
Harry shivered.
He knew Veratia was angry.
"Of course, you are the most important pair," he hurriedly remedied. "You are my dearest..."
(Ten thousand words of mushy love talk omitted below).
"Alright." The smile reached the bottom of Veratia's eyes. "Of course I believe you, Harry—hmm, let's get married."
"Get married?" Harry's brain crashed for a second.
He actually really hadn't thought about this matter yet; marriage was indeed a bit far off for him.
Technically, it made sense. After all, before crossing over he was merely a sixth-year student, and after crossing over he started again from first year. Marriage was indeed a bit too distant for him.
"What, you aren't willing?" Veratia narrowed her eyes. "Or is it that you plan to marry someone else?"
"Oh, no," Harry explained immediately. "It's just that I haven't graduated yet. Isn't marriage a bit too early for me?"
"That is an issue I hadn't considered, but what you say is indeed correct." Veratia accepted Harry's words. "Alright, then we will talk about this matter after you graduate."
Harry didn't know why, but he secretly let out a sigh of relief.
Leaving aside that this topic was far off, it was also bloody heavy.
Marriage was indeed something that should be put on the agenda, but the problem was, Harry didn't know how to get married!
It wasn't that he didn't know the process, but rather... whom should he marry, and in what order should he arrange the marriages?
--
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