In the early morning, a single drop of dew slid from the edge of a young leaf, catching the sunlight and casting a brief ray of gold across the windowpane. Adrian Blackwood rose quietly and completed the third motion of his physical exercise routine.
"Finally, the third movement has reached its initial stage. I wonder what surprises it will bring me next," Adrian thought with a flicker of anticipation.
His mind drifted back to a year and a half ago, shortly after his body-refining process had begun. Since then, Adrian had spent countless afternoons engrossed in books—both magical and mundane—absorbing every word carefully. He traced vivid mental images of the spells, potions, and magical creatures described within the pages, visualizing the precise movements and incantations required. Fortunately, his afternoon classes at the Muggle school had no major tests, allowing him to pass them smoothly despite the distraction.
Over this past year and a half, during the second lesson each day, Adrian had taken to tutoring Harry Potter and Flegg Brown. Their grades improved dramatically, but so did the provocations from Dudley Dursley and his gang, whose bullying grew more relentless as days passed.
Mrs. Morgan Le Fay Blackwood, Adrian's mother, took little interest in Adrian's Muggle school exams, but when she learned he had scored all A+ grades by the Muggle standards, her pride was unmistakable. She rewarded him handsomely—most notably gifting him a finely crafted piano, encouraging his music studies alongside his magical education.
To prepare for potential scrutiny by the Auror branch and to counter any spiritual probes from Dumbledore, Adrian had devoted most of his energy to a complex mental shielding technique—referred to as "brain closure surgery." Unlike a master wizard like Severus Snape, who could effortlessly weave magical defenses, Adrian's method required intense focus and practice. After more than a year of dedication, he could only maintain the shield briefly.
Compared to the tedious and draining mental exercises, Adrian's favorite and most rewarding pursuits remained spell study and his "McLean Body Exercise." This unique training had made him physically stronger and more agile, but more importantly, it was helping him refine fine muscle control—an essential skill for delicate wand work. Through practicing piano scales, his finger movements became more precise and steady. When handling fragile potion ingredients or executing complex wand movements, his hands no longer trembled, reducing the chance of error.
After briefly checking that he didn't need to use the bathroom again, Adrian returned to his room, showered, changed into a fresh shirt, and headed downstairs. Except for Daisy, everyone in the household was still asleep.
Carefully, Adrian prepared a pot of hot, milky breakfast tea for the family and brought it to Daisy's table.
"Daisy, I arranged to meet Flegg today to find Harry. Can you help me talk to Mom about it?"
"No problem. You're being surprisingly obedient today. Not enough pocket money?" Daisy teased with a smile. "I happen to have some Muggle money I don't need. You can take it." The fragrant milk tea seemed to lift her spirits. She got up, returned to her room, and came back with a few pounds. She reminded Adrian warmly in the soft morning light, "Remember to be back before dinner."
Adrian made his way to the school where Flegg had agreed to meet him. As soon as he arrived, Flegg's voice called out excitedly, "Adrian, I'm here!" Flegg waved enthusiastically. The boy, who had just graduated from primary school with excellent grades, was known for the generous pocket money his parents gave him—though it often took a while to spend it all.
Their first stop was London's largest and oldest toy store—Hamleys—where Adrian carefully chose a birthday gift for Harry. Afterwards, they took a bus heading to Privet Drive in the Little Whinging neighborhood.
"No. 4 Privet Drive. Here it is!" Flegg, walking ahead, stopped to look at the street sign and turned to Adrian.
Adrian's eyes caught a cat perched silently on a low garden wall. He studied it closely, feeling a pang of recognition—and then relief. "No spectacles around its eyes. Just a normal cat. Professor McGonagall wouldn't be lingering outside a Muggle home, even if it was Harry Potter's foster home."
Flegg rang the doorbell. Moments later, a strong voice called out from inside, "Daisy, go open the door!"
"I want to watch anime! Call that weirdo!" Dudley's impatient voice rang out.
Footsteps approached, and a fat, greasy middle-aged man with blond hair and a double chin opened the door. He squinted suspiciously. "Who are you boys looking for?"
"Hello, sir. We're Harry Potter's classmates. My name's Flegg Brown. Is Harry home?" Flegg asked politely.
"Harry? There's no Harry Potter here." Vernon Dursley's voice was sharp, and he moved to shut the door.
Adrian stepped forward, placing his hand against the closing door. "If I'm right, you must be Mr. Dursley. Is Dudley here? I'm Adrian Blackwood. We're also in Dudley's class. I came to see if they could come out to play, with your permission."
"Adrian Blackwood? First year, right? … Dudley, your classmate Adrian Blackwood is here to see you!" Vernon glanced at Adrian skeptically before shouting inside.
"Come in." Vernon Dursley finally relented. Even he, who disliked 'bookish types,' wasn't about to deny his son some social interaction.
"Blackwood, Brown, you—"
"Yes, Dudley! We came to trade boxing tips." Dudley didn't wait for his father's reprimand. Adrian stepped forward and clapped a firm arm around Dudley's shoulders, holding him firmly before he could retreat to the living room.
The living room was immaculate, every surface polished and every cushion in place. On the mantelpiece, a framed photograph showed a strong, healthy boy—either riding a bicycle or standing proudly beside a flower bed at the Hogwarts Botanic Exhibition. There was no sign in these photos of another boy living under the same roof. Though Harry Potter did indeed live here, Adrian glanced toward the empty cupboard and knew Harry was currently confined inside.
"Boo…" Harry knocked desperately on the cupboard door. "Adrian, Flegg, I'm here!" His voice carried a mix of hope and frustration, trying to catch his friends' attention.
"Is that Harry's voice? Mr. Dursley, are you illegally imprisoning Harry?" Adrian gave Vernon Dursley a pointed sideways glance, challenging the man with his words.
"Yeah, we haven't seen Harry for days. He even missed his end-of-term exams!" Flegg, who heard the voice too, looked genuinely worried.
"Of course not! How could that be? We've worked so hard raising him to be… Oh, blast it!" Vernon Dursley faltered, caught off guard. He had intended to lie, to deny any wrongdoing and dismiss Harry as simply not allowed to play with others.
Adrian had little patience for Vernon's excuses. Without waiting further, he reached out and undid the lock securing the cupboard door, flinging it open.
Before Vernon could slam it shut again, Harry slipped out like a shadow escaping a cage. The cupboard door hung ajar behind him, like a black maw swallowing his childhood—the bright, happy moments devoured by neglect and cruelty.
Adrian had initially trusted Vernon's word, but seeing Harry's real condition shattered any illusions. The abuse Harry suffered was far worse than the vague stories in the books or whispered rumors. No wonder Harry was so thin and always dressed in hand-me-downs that hung too large on his small frame. The torment here contrasted starkly with Dudley's pampered life, protected by doting parents.
Yet, despite it all, Harry remained upright, courageous, and pure—qualities instilled by Mrs. Kelly, his kind and patient caretaker, and inherited from his mother Lily's legacy of justice and kindness.
Even Penny Evans Dursley—who hadn't been seen in years—had recognized the danger posed by the mysterious magical men and was willing to risk everything to shelter her sister's orphaned son. She had argued with Vernon and even Dumbledore when Harry was seventeen. From this perspective, Adrian thought Penny was far from a bad guardian.
However, Adrian couldn't help but feel that Dumbledore, fully aware of Harry's suffering, was a callous old fool. Though ancient magic bound Harry to live with the Dursleys, Dumbledore could have intervened—issued warnings to Vernon, or had Hagrid deliver some of the Potters' gold to compensate Harry for his miserable childhood. Yet, Dumbledore chose instead to observe quietly, expending energy on watching Harry's pain without lifting a finger to ease it.
Adrian suspected Dumbledore's cruelty was deliberate—that Harry's harsh upbringing was meant to make him appreciate the wizarding world more, to bind Harry's loyalty through shared hardship. Worse, Dumbledore might have designed dangerous trials for Harry to toughen him for his "destiny" to save the world. Such actions, from Hogwarts' greatest wizard and headmaster, were deeply irresponsible. (In fact, the official Pottermore site admits as much about Dumbledore's neglect.)
Reading about magic and studying with Harry, Adrian could overlook Dursley's ignorance and cruelty, but seeing the extent of Harry's abuse stirred anger deep within him.
"Mr. Dursley, I strongly suspect you've kept Harry locked in that cupboard for a long time. We have good reason to believe he's been illegally confined and mistreated. Flegg and I have witnessed this firsthand. If you don't improve Harry's situation immediately, I will have no choice but to seek legal help on his behalf." Adrian's voice was calm but firm as he issued his warning.
"My sister is a lawyer," Flegg added boldly. "If Harry needs it, our family will back him up."
Harry looked gratefully at his friends. In the darkness of his lonely existence, Adrian and Flegg were a light—reminding him there was still love and hope.
"All right, all right, Harry," Vernon muttered, irritation and guilt mingling in his voice. "I wanted to take you to the amusement park, but now please take your friends out of my house."
Adrian, Harry, and Flegg exchanged glances, careful not to escalate the tension. After all, Harry was stuck with the Dursleys until he turned seventeen, the age of majority in the wizarding world.
"You're all too kind," Harry said, a rare smile breaking through. "Last Dudley's birthday, I actually released a python at the zoo… Dursley never threw such a tantrum, but he sure shut me up fast." His eyes sparkled as he shared the story, feeling like a freed bird finally telling his tale.
"Harry, wait! The postman looks like he's coming your way. I sent you a birthday card." Adrian stopped abruptly as he spotted the postman on a motorcycle in the distance, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"You sent me a card?" Harry's hand froze mid-air, eyes wide with disbelief. No one had ever sent him a letter before.
Adrian was just as surprised at Harry's excitement. What he'd thought a simple gesture had become something deeply meaningful to his friend.