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Chapter 5: "Join the Peaky Blinders, Harry!"
🕑 Added 2025-10-25 08:02:49 +0000 UTCChapter 5: "Join the Peaky Blinders, Harry!"
"I'll have someone send over some proper furniture and necessities in the morning."
In the Dursleys' second bedroom, Leon's voice was firm as he gave Harry's shoulder a sincere pat. "The Boy Who Lived shouldn't be sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs."
Harry, however, was still lost in the pure joy of the thought, 'I'm going to have my own room!' and was a little overwhelmed by it all.
"Also, you're far too thin," Leon continued, his brow furrowed. "That couple downstairs haven't even been providing you with basic nutrition." He gave Harry's bony arm a light squeeze. "Right, I'll send a personal chef over as well. We'll get you in proper shape before the school term starts."
Harry's heart leaped. No more stale bread! He looked at Leon, his eyes shining with gratitude.
But after the initial wave of euphoria passed, a sense of reality returned. Harry hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"Mr. Shelby, I... I'm incredibly grateful for all of this. But... can you tell me why you're doing it?"
Leon paused, looking at Harry with genuine surprise. In the stories, the boy often came across as average, succeeding more through sheer, unbelievable luck than anything else. But Leon had to admit, Harry possessed a maturity far beyond his years.
His expression turned serious, and he decided to be direct. "Harry, you have no idea what your name means in the magical world."
"You're called 'The Boy Who Lived.' Every wizard in Britain raised a glass to you, toasted your name."
"The suffering you've endured for the last ten years is, in essence, the fault of one self-righteous old fool."
"He may be one of the greatest wizards alive, but he knows nothing about the love of a family. To think he would leave you with a pair like that..."
Leon's voice was laced with contempt. "A young wizard with a future as bright as yours deserves a much better life."
Harry just stared, blinking.
The Boy Who Lived?
Every wizard in Britain toasted my name?
A bright future... deserve a better life?
Is he talking about me?
Me?
Leon paid no mind to Harry's confusion and continued with his introduction.
"First, allow me to introduce myself properly."
"Leon Shelby. I'm your age, from the Shelby family of Birmingham."
"The family used to be in a number of businesses, but these days we're focused primarily on munitions."
"And as of now, I am the head of the Shelby family."
Harry had just started to process the idea of his own "bright future" when Leon's introduction sent his brain into another short circuit.
'Your age'?
'A family that deals in munitions'?
'The head of the family'?
We're the same age, but I live in a cupboard and you're the head of a family? If I'm the one with the 'bright future,' then what does that make you? Are you kept awake at night by the glare of your own destiny? Harry stared at Leon, his expression a complex mixture of shock and disbelief.
"The Shelby family runs a company," Leon continued, his voice even. "The Peaky Blinders."
"As the head of the Shelby family, and as the leader of the Peaky Blinders, it is my duty to recruit promising new talent."
"And you, Harry Potter, are exactly that."
Leon stated it as a simple fact, a direct and undisguised offer. Sometimes, the plainest words carry the most weight.
"Oh, and you needn't worry that joining us means I'll force you to do anything... unsavoury." (That's my job, you won't have to get your hands dirty, Leon added silently in his mind.)
"We're legitimate businessmen. We only operate within the confines of the law." (Although, our interpretation of the law may differ from the common understanding. For instance, it wasn't until I left Birmingham that I learned murder was illegal, he thought.)
"And, when the time is right, the Peaky Blinders will seek to acquire political influence." (That way, we can write the laws ourselves. And then murder won't be illegal outside of Birmingham, either.)
"So, I, Leon Shelby, in my capacity as leader of the Peaky Blinders, formally invite you, Harry Potter..."
Leon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Join us. Join the Peaky Blinders, Harry."
Having delivered his speech, he watched the utterly bewildered expression on Harry's face and gave a knowing smile, not pressing for an immediate answer.
"Of course, you can take your time to think it over. You can give me your answer when we see each other at school."
With that, Leon rose to his feet. It was time to leave. He crooked a finger at the guard standing by the door, who immediately brought forward a full set of Peaky Blinders attire. It consisted of a meticulously tailored suit, a pair of polished leather boots, and, on top, a black flat cap.
Leon placed the clothes on the bed and turned towards the door.
"I've had an outfit prepared for you. Try it on. I suggest you see what you look like wearing it before you make your final decision."
With that last piece of advice, he strode out of the room. His bodyguards fell into step behind him in a silent, disciplined column.
He passed through the dining room without so much as a glance at the ashen-faced Dursleys and walked straight out the front door.
Night had fallen completely. The streetlamps of Privet Drive were all lit, casting a weak, yellow glow. The London air was different from Birmingham's—not just damp and cold, but carrying the heavy scent of imminent rain.
Leon pulled his collar tighter and walked quickly to his car.
Inside, the heating had been running, and the warmth was a welcome relief. The bodyguard in the passenger seat remained vigilant, taking a few moments to scan the surroundings before the convoy began to move, pulling away from the curb.
Leon stared out the window, replaying the day's events in his mind, searching for any flaws or missteps. He was a man of meticulous detail, often using the quiet of the night to review and refine his plans.
After a long period of contemplation, he took a deep breath, and then suddenly frowned.
Outside the car, the streetlamps on Privet Drive were going out, one by one. In the blink of an eye, the entire street was plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the moon peeking through a break in the clouds.
Leon's men, of course, noticed it too. The engines roared to life as the convoy accelerated, breaking the silence of the night.
"Boss, you should keep your head down, just in case," the guard in the front seat advised, his voice a low growl.
But Leon simply shook his head, his tone calm. "No need. Tell the drivers to maintain their current speed. Our guest has already arrived."
He then smiled, turned to the empty seat beside him, and extended a hand. "Good evening. It's a pleasure to meet you. Please forgive me if my hospitality has been lacking."
To the utter astonishment of his men, a kindly-looking, white-haired old man materialized in the back seat next to Leon. The man removed his hat, took Leon's hand, and gave it a gentle shake.
"It looks like rain," the old man said, his eyes twinkling. "Dreadful weather we're having, isn't it, Mr. Shelby?"
