Bunce Foley was an unusual boy in many ways. For example, he hated summer vacation the most. (Because she was an orphan, she had no home.) Another example was that he really wanted to buy a house, but unfortunately, he was not old enough to sell it. And he happened to be a wizard.
It was almost midnight, and he was lying on his bed, doing his homework. Leaning back on his pillow, he opened a leather-bound book, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot, and wondered if Harry was writing the same thing at the moment. Bunce was frowning, moving the tip of his quill from top to bottom on the page, looking for material to help him write his essay, which was entitled,"The Burning of Fourteenth-Century Witches Was Completely Meaningless-Discussion Paper."
The quill stopped at the beginning of a paragraph that seemed to be useful. Bunce moved his book closer and read,
In the Middle Ages, non-magical people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic, but they were not very good at recognizing it. Occasionally, they did catch a wizard or witch, but on such occasions, the burning did not have much effect. When a wizard or witch was burned, they would cast a basic spell to freeze the flames. They would enjoy the mild tickling pleasure of the flames while pretending to scream in pain. The soothsayer, Wendlin, loved to be burned. He had been caught in various disguises forty-seven times.
Bunce put his pen between his teeth and reached under his pillow for an ink bottle and a roll of parchment. Slowly and carefully, he opened the inkstand, dipped the quill in it, and began to write, taking care not to leave any ink on the sheets. Because if the sheets got dirty, Bangs would have to pay Tom Galleon more.
Bangs finished his essay on Wendling, stopped writing, and blew out the candle. The room was dark and silent, except for the low snoring coming from the next room. It must be late, Bangs rubbed his sore eyes. How about finishing this damn paper tomorrow?
He capped the ink bottle, dragged an old trunk from the edge of his bed, put History of Magic, the essay, the quill, and the ink bottle inside, climbed out of bed, and closed the trunk. Finally, he stood up, stretched, and looked at the time displayed by the luminous clock beside the bed.
It was three in the morning. Bang Si's stomach churned. He was a little hungry.
Bangs rarely looked forward to his birthday because he didn't know when it was. This was another difference between him and other children. He had never received any birthday cards here before.
Bunce walked through the dark room, through the empty corridor, to the window. He leaned against the windowsill, feeling particularly comfortable in the cool evening breeze after spending so much time in the room.
Bunce was rather small for a thirteen-year-old, but he had grown a few inches of late. However, his gray hair was still the same as before: No matter what he did, they would not be smooth.
Just as Bunce decided to close the window and get into bed to catch up on sleep, a sickly owl flew into the room and landed on Bunce's bed. There was a big package tied to its leg.
Bunce recognized the unconscious owl at once-it was Errol, the Weasley's. Bunce rushed to the bed, untied Errol's leg, took the package, and set him aside. Errol opened a hazy eye and made a sound of thanks.
Bangs sat on the bed and grabbed the package that Errol had brought. He tore open the kraft paper and saw the gift wrapped in golden paper. It looked like a birthday card. Bunce opened the envelope and two pieces of paper fell out-one was a letter, the other was a newspaper clip.
It was obviously a cut from the Daily Prophet, the Wizarding newspaper, because the black-and-white picture was moving. Bunce picked up the cutting, smoothed it out, and read:
Ministry of Magic staff member wins grand prize
Arthur Weasley, head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department at the Ministry of Magic, has won the Daily Prophet's annual Galleon Award.
A cheerful Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet,"We're going to spend it on a summer trip to Egypt, where our oldest son, Bill, is doing spell-breaking work for Gringotts Wizarding Bank.”
The Weasleys would be in Egypt for a month, returning before Hogwarts, where five of their children were currently attending.
Bunce looked at the picture of the event. He smiled when he saw the nine Weasleys standing in front of the golden steps, all waving at him. Mrs. Weasley was small and plump, but Mr. Weasley, who was bald, was very tall. Their six sons and one daughter all had fiery red hair (though it didn't show in the black-and-white picture). Ron was standing in the middle of the picture, tall and thin, his pet rat Scabbers on his shoulder, his arm around his sister Ginny.
Bangs put down the newspaper clippings in his hand, picked up Ron's letter, and opened it.
Dear Bones:
Happy birthday! (We don't know your birthday, but Harry's had it too, so that's it.)）
You really know everything!
Egypt was awesome. Bill took us to all the pyramids. You have no idea how many spells the ancient Egyptian wizards put on them. Mother wouldn't let Bill take us to the last pyramid. There were many odd-looking skeletons left behind by Muggles who had forced their way into the pyramids, who had grown extra heads and such.
I can't believe my dad won the Daily Prophet lottery! Seven hundred Galleons! Most of it went on the trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year.
We'll be back about a week before school starts, and we're off to London to buy my wand and our new book. Wait for us at the Leaky Cauldron.
Ron
Percy's head of the boys 'union now, I suppose you already know that. And again.
Bangs glanced at the photograph again. Percy was in the seventh year, his last year at Hogwarts, and he looked particularly smug in his picture. He was wearing a Turkish hat in his neat hair, on which he had proudly pinned his boys 'leader badge, his horn-rimmed eyes gleaming in the Egyptian sun.
Now Bunce turned to his present and began to unwrap it. The thing inside the package seemed to be a small spinning top. Underneath the top was a note from Ron:
Bunce-it was a pocket Sneakoscope. (I gave one to Harry as well) If there's anyone you can't trust around, it glows and starts spinning. Bill said it was rubbish, sold to traveling wizards. And it couldn't be trusted, because it had been glowing the night before last at dinner. But Bill didn't know that Fred and George had put beetles in his soup.
Ron
Bangs had just placed the pocket Sneakoscope on the little table beside his bed, and the top had balanced itself on its tip and stood perfectly still, reflecting the glowing hands of the Bangs clock. He looked at the top with interest for a few seconds when a beautiful tawny owl flew into his room, and Bunce knew at once where it had come from. For it was carrying, in addition to a small parcel, a letter, the envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest. Bangs took the mail from the owl, shook its feathers solemnly, spread its wings, and flew away.
Bang Si tore open the thick vellum and immediately recognized the circle of words inside: It was from Dumbledore. He opened it. It was a book-it was called The Legend of Wand. He put the book aside, picked up the card, and read,"
Dear Bones:
I hope you will like this book.
Have a good summer vacation.
your faithful
Albus Dumbledore
Bunce was a little surprised that Dumbledore would send something, but he was still pleased. There were only letters from Hogwarts left.
Bunce noticed that the letter was much thicker than usual. He tore open the seal, pulled out the first piece of parchment, and read it."
Dear Mr. Foley,
Please note that the new school year will begin on September 1st. The Hogwarts Express would depart from King's Cross Station at eleven o'clock.
On certain weekends, third years were allowed to visit Hogsmeade. (Your consent form has been signed by Professor Dumbledore.)
I have enclosed the reading list for the new school year.
your loyal
Professor McGonagall, Vice-Headmaster
Bunce looked at his alarm clock. It was already 3:30 in the morning.
Even though Bangs knew everything, he still felt that he had the same right to celebrate his birthday as everyone else.
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