The Boy Who Was Left Alive
Holding Hagrid’s hand, Harry left the great window and walked back toward the platform. All the while, the chatter of passing students kept drifting into his ears.
“If he gets Sorted into Slytherin, Senior Felix Cruz won’t let him off easy. That guy absolutely loathes the nouveau-riche type.”
“Come on, Felix Cruz is a commoner himself in the end. What’s he gonna do against a high noble like that?”
“Why are we even ranking the nobles among ourselves? We’d have to save five years of allowance just to buy one Gucci piece.”
“Holy shit, the reality check is brutal. Why does Hogwarts have so many silver-spoon kids?”
“Is there any school that takes donation admissions without rich kids? Still, take some pride. We got in fair and square by exam. Not noble quotas, not donation seats.”
“Hey, you think that kid’s loaded too? The Potter family’s a major shareholder in Gringotts. And he’s the only one left. Doesn’t that mean the whole family fortune is his?”
Harry flinched the moment the name Potter came up. He could barely make sense of the rest, but that single word lodged itself crystal-clear in his ear.
“Ah… you mean ‘the Boy Who Lived’?”
“Even so, he’s just ‘the boy who got left alive’ because his parents died in his place. He didn’t do a damn thing himself. Does he have money? A title? The real ones are the Malfoys, the Diggorys, the Smiths—”
“Whoa, leave the Smiths out of it. They’ve got some land thanks to lucky ancestors, but what do they have to show for it now? Don’t fall for Zacharias’s bluff. Malfoy and Diggory are the actual chaebols.”
“Fuck, we’re at a school of higher magic and still going on about silver spoons. This is why it’s Hell Britain—no, Hell Wizarding World. People like us have nothing left but civil-service exams. Can’t even start a curry house from scratch.”
“Skip the curry house. The Indian kids already own that market. Let’s just open a fish-and-chips shop.”
“Who the hell would pay money for that?”
What are they even talking about? I don’t understand a single word. But… ‘the boy who got left alive’?
Harry couldn’t follow the students’ conversation, and his head began to throb.
The boy who got left alive.
What stung worse was that it wasn’t wrong. Leaving the whispering students behind, Hagrid accepted a small slip of paper from a kindly-looking station attendant. The man took one look at Harry, beamed, and offered his hand.
“An honor to meet the hero of the wizarding world. Congratulations on your admission.”
Then he vanished into the crowd. Even while shaking the attendant’s hand, the words still circled Harry’s ears. The boy who got left alive.
According to Hagrid, ever since Harry had left the Dursleys’, a man named Mundungus Fletcher—sent by Headmaster Dumbledore—had been watching over him from the shadows. Looking back, Harry thought he remembered his aunt and uncle grumbling about some tramp loitering around the neighborhood.
“Mundungus may be a petty thief and a timid fence these days, but he used to work in the Nimbus Group’s secretarial office. Capable and strong, that one.”
That was Hagrid’s assessment.
A petty thief? Then… the way Uncle Vernon’s expensive garden tools and wallets kept vanishing—was that…?
The Dursleys rarely let Harry outside, yet they bought him every Muggle textbook and fairy-tale book he ever asked for. Only later, after hearing it from Hagrid, did Harry realize Aunt Petunia had been keeping at least half an eye on Dumbledore’s opinion.
“Hagrid… there’s something I’ve been wondering. Why did you only come to get me now? From my aunt’s house, I mean. Did nobody know I was there?”
At Harry’s careful question, Hagrid’s throat seemed to catch for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Harry. You’re right. You are famous as the hero of the wizarding world, but everyone thought you were attending some expensive private boarding school in New Jersey, America. Me included—most people truly believed it. When I heard that, I actually felt relieved. They say private schools in New Jersey ban corporal punishment.”
“Most people?”
Harry felt a strange dissonance at the word most.
“That’s right. The only ones who knew you’d been left with those—those people who don’t even deserve to be called your aunt and uncle—and that you were growing up the way you did… were Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. Just the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress.”
Only then did Harry understand why the man named Axley earlier had looked angry even while smiling. And not only him. Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, every Ministry employee he’d met today, the countless police and politicians who had come to his aunt’s house—they had all wanted to see him, felt honored, yet couldn’t hide how exhausted and hollow they looked. They had prepared a grand welcome and escort because they believed Harry was living well in New Jersey.
“Even the Minister of Magic only found out last month, after your magic started to manifest. Watching the Minister and the Headmaster go at it was quite the show. Can’t blame the Minister for being furious. He’d spent three months planning a security detail to bring you safely from America, only to discover you never even left Britain. The Ministry people had a rough time rewriting the whole escort plan.”
“But that Mundungus fellow was near me, wasn’t he?”
“Mundungus never knew your true identity. He was only watching your uncle closely. The Headmaster never dumps every secret on one person. He’s far too wise, far too great—no one can hold the whole of his plans. Even so, Harry… as an adult, and as a friend of your parents, I am truly sorry. I wondered how you were living, but the Dark Lord’s followers are still active. I couldn’t risk seeking you out. I’m sorry. Truly, truly sorry. Even the Headmaster couldn’t have expected those people would be such utter rubbish. I’m sure of it. To treat the hero of the wizarding world—no, of the entire Earth—like that…”
Harry soothed the weeping Hagrid, yet the fear and eerie sense of déjà vu blooming in his chest refused to fade.
Why am I a hero? Why do these people like me? What did I ever do?
Just then, a pair of identical red-haired twins appeared off to one side, setting off fireworks for fun.
“Hagrid, is it all right to use magic just anywhere?”
“Hm? Ah, you were watching the Weasley twins. Strictly speaking, no. When I was young, the Ministry used to track underage magic.”
“But it’s allowed now?”
“Too many children have died, that’s why. The world was already dangerous enough—if you stop kids from defending themselves, how many more would we lose…? No one wanted to see that horror again.”
The broad back Harry was looking at seemed to tremble, just a little.
“Hey, Willan. Desperate to get your ass kicked with your master again this year? Fuck, are you retarded? How many times do you have to get beaten, cry, and run away before your body remembers? You’re a year above me—why is your IQ so low?”
“Who the hell is my master, you son of a bitch?”
A tall black student with a shaved head snarled.
“Eugene Kim, drop the act. Once you hit third year and start electives, you’ll learn the difference between pure-bloods who actually passed the exams and donation-quota East Asians like you and your friend Karina.”
“You dumb fuck. What, your little friends at Weybridge Academy snitching? ‘Eugene Kim totally ignored us, waaah’? Pathetic. You hang out on Facebook with rejects who failed the Hogwarts entrance exam and got stuck in local schools—that’s why you have no friends.”
“Bullshit. The whole world knows Zacharias and I are friends.”
Sharp jawline, bored expression. The East Asian boy snorted.
“You think Zacharias actually sees a black kid like you as pure-blood? And both Karina and I got in by exam, you idiot. By that logic I went to Eton prep—you were homeschooled. Doesn’t that make you the uneducated one? You really going to act as stupid as you look?”
“You little shit…! An orphan with no parents, adopted—”
“And what does that make you lot, who spent two years getting your faces punched in public while secretly tearing my books and stuffing cockroaches and rotten horse dung in my cabinet? Superior orphans? If having parents is something to brag about, then act like it, Willan. If yours are gone too, then I’m sorry.”
“You fucking bastard. Shut up!!!! You wanna die for real? Let’s duel! Fuck, because of quota students like you, my friends couldn’t even get into Hogwarts and got dumped in some countryside school—”
“Retards. Then study harder for the exam. Whose fault is that? They don’t give free passes? Yeah, go ahead and try. Come on, one more time—fighting!”
The instant Willan clenched his fist and lunged—
“Willan, stop.”
Honey-blond hair drifted softly. Cedric Diggory stepped between them.
“Eugene, you too. Start a riot at the station and you’ll end up at the Magical Law Enforcement office instead of Hogwarts. You know Professor Kingsley’s the Director now, right? Neither of you will get off with a normal detention. The place is crawling with Ministry staff today.”
“…Making excuses. Cedric Diggory, control your friend properly.”
Willan staggered back reluctantly.
“Watch your mouth, garlic-breath. Be grateful I’m letting it slide.”
“Try not letting it slide. What happens then?”
Eugene still smirked.
“You even know how to let something slide? If you knew how to look at anything, maybe you should’ve looked at the exam paper a little better. Thanks to you flunking and paying tuition three or four times over, kids like us get to live large. Appreciate it, Willan. Hogwarts remodeled four bathrooms with your money. You basically built four private dorms for Moaning Myrtle. Oh, and those are your private dining halls too, right? Since you’ve got no friends except Zacharias and eat alone on the toilet every day?”
“Eugene!”
Cedric’s hand clamped firmly on the back of Eugene’s neck.
“I said stop. Let’s go.”
“Willan, which toilet number is it today? Want me to come live-stream it for you? Mukbangs are trending these days!”
Cedric Diggory dragged the East Asian boy—whose mouth refused to stay shut—by the scruff of the neck, sweat pouring down his forehead. Harry stared blankly at the scene. Hagrid let out a small sigh.
“That one’s… Eugene Kim, third-year Hufflepuff. Two years ahead of you. The other is Willan, fourth-year Gryffindor. Those two are still at it, I see.”
“Why are they fighting like that?”
“Who knows. That boy’s had more than just Willan pick fights with him for being East Asian. But Cedric Diggory sticks close, so nothing too serious will happen.”
Harry watched the retreating back of the East Asian student named Eugene Kim. Bored face. Running mouth. Still muttering something even while being hauled away by Cedric.
The curses he spat weren’t quite as foul as Uncle Vernon’s, but they sounded a lot like the drunks back in the neighborhood.
Cedric dragged his friend Eugene Kim along and spoke in a familiar tone, loud enough for Harry to hear clearly.
“Eugene, why’d you fight again today? Willan pick on you? Any special reason? You usually just grit your teeth and let it go on the first day of term.”
“…Nah. The bastard was side-eyeing me while fiddling with his inner pocket, so I tripped him first. It’s fine. Even if I hadn’t, he would’ve started something. Whether I hit first or Willan hits first, the result’s the same. My win. Both him and Zacharias are retards—if you don’t put them down once at the start of term, they make the whole year exhausting. Like East Asians are their parents’ sworn enemies or something. Morons. If they’re broke, just ask to borrow money. What the hell is wrong with them? Why do they express inferiority complexes like that? Are they psychos?”
“That last part’s what I want to say to you. Psycho? Do you even know how many points you’ve lost fighting those guys for two years? Yeah, they started it, but you’ve beaten them way more. Please just hold it in. You still have to graduate.”
“Yeah, I know~ I was second in written exams last year. You were fourth~ I’m smarter~ And anyway those bastards can’t beat me with their mouths.”
Harry understood less than half of what was being said.
“I’m gonna step out for a bit. Hold my seat.”
“Do I look like your secretary? Get lost. The train’s leaving.”
Even while grumbling, Cedric was already picking out new robes and shoes that would match Eugene and his new wand. A very tall black student approached the seated Cedric and greeted him cheerfully.
“Ey— Cedric, heard Eugene fought Willan again? He was running off to snitch to Zacharias.”
“Whoa— Lee! You really decided to become Michael Jordan? You got taller again??”
“Hey, Lee, you crazy bastard. Because you ice-bucket-challenged this guy, I had to do it instead!”
“Right, I wanted to ask about that. Saw it on Facebook. Why’d you take it for him, Eugene? In second year you didn’t even blink no matter how many times kids nominated you. You like me or something?”
“Lee, who’s the GOAT of the NBA? Answer.”
“…Jordan. Obviously?”
“That’s why I hate you. The GOAT is LeBron.”
“Eugene Kim, you insane? LeBron still has to get past Kobe first—”
“Ah, shut up. I’m seriously busy. Both of you come to the lounge car later. Bring Percy, Penny, Ernie, Angelina, the whole year group. Now that we’re third-years, I’ve got something to say.”
Watching Eugene sprint off somewhere, Lee and Cedric tilted their heads.
“What the hell is that crazy bastard talking about? Running for office or something?”
“What else? Probably wants help selling cigarettes under the table in the dorm again. Lunatic. Lee, you gathering the kids?”
“Hell no. Too much work. You?”
“Of course not. Tell him to gather them himself if he needs them. Or just post it in the third-year group chat.”
Lee and Cedric looked at each other and snickered.
Hagrid patted Harry’s back and urged him onward.
Rumble-rumble—right after they passed, the Weasley twins came by dragging a suitcase.
“Find Eugene Kim, quick. If we get caught with this, expulsion won’t be the end of it. You know that, George?”
“I know. It’s the family business. You’re the one who said now that we’re adults we should stock more than just toys, Freddy.”
“If Charlie hadn’t told us in the first place, we never would’ve thought of bringing this into Hogwarts. Anyway, where’d he go? Our senior business partner?”
“Maybe the Head Boy already arrested him.”
“No way. Then he wouldn’t be worthy of being a nakama of the Pirate King.”
“Let’s go fetch him—Roronoa Eugene.”
“Damn it, Freddy. I think Percy’s rubbed off on us. So does that make the Head Boy a Marine Admiral?”
“Getting caught means death—that much they have in common.”
“Never expected to run into Dad here of all places. If he’d checked our trunk, we’d have been finished.”
“Then Mum would’ve dragged us straight to a Welsh monastery to memorize the Bible every day and live on nothing but rye bread. Wailing repentance prayers the whole time.”
“I’d rather become a ghost, put Peeves under my command, and rule Hogwarts. You?”
“Agreed. Even so, we’re still amateurs, George. Until Eugene told us, we didn’t even know condoms were sold at Hogwarts.”
“Charlie’s the villain here. Sharing a blue ocean like that only with Eugene. But it doesn’t matter. Now we know.”
Fred and George dragged their extremely heavy suitcase with a rumble and vanished into the train smoke.