According to English law, a citizen's private property is sacred and inviolable. Hagrid, having trespassed without permission, would be considered a case of legitimate self-defense even if the Dursleys had killed him. Of course, this only applied to ordinary people; wizards did not have to abide by the laws of the Muggle world. The very word 'Muggle,' Dudley reflected, was an offensive and derogatory term, one that could easily be translated as 'idiot'.
Hagrid, standing dejectedly outside the shack, watched as the broken door was propped back in its frame. After a long moment of quiet contemplation, he silently climbed onto his little motorcycle and roared off into the night.
Only when the sound of the engine had completely faded did Dudley allow himself to relax. He had been genuinely worried that Hagrid, after coming to his senses, might return to continue the conflict. He turned to his parents and Harry, his voice heavy with fatigue. "The annoying intruder has been driven away. Let's go back to sleep."
Dudley was profoundly tired. His Level 5 skill had almost completely drained his stamina. All he wanted now was a good, long rest; anything else could wait until morning. He made a mental note to be much more cautious about using that move in the future.
Without another word, he collapsed onto the sofa and began snoring loudly.
Vernon opened his mouth, a question forming on his lips, but Petunia quickly tugged on his sleeve. After a long, silent exchange of glances, they went upstairs, their minds reeling. Hagrid's arrival had made them realize with terrifying certainty that the wizards would not let Harry go.
Compared to the worried Dursleys, Harry was filled with a profound sense of admiration. As expected of Brother D, he thought, his heart swelling with pride. He actually defeated that giant. He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask, but seeing his cousin fast asleep, he could only suppress them for now.
The next day, the good habits developed over years of disciplined training made Dudley wake up early. By the time he had finished his morning workout, the Dursleys and Harry were just beginning to stir, sluggish and bleary-eyed.
"Let's go home," was the first thing Dudley said when he saw them, his voice firm. On his sweaty, still baby-fat-laced face, there was a maturity that completely defied his age. "I think some important guests, like the one from yesterday, will be paying a visit to the house very soon."
The four of them silently packed their luggage, and Vernon drove the car back towards Privet Drive. There was no conversation along the way, only the low hum of the engine and the heavy weight of unspoken thoughts.
After a few hours of driving, they returned to their familiar two-story house. The owls that had besieged the yard and mailbox were gone. A single tabby cat, seemingly just passing by, stared with wide, curious eyes as the Dursley family carried their luggage back into the house.
"Dudley, darling..." Petunia began as they stepped inside, but Dudley stopped her with a wave of his hand.
"Before we do anything else," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument, "I think you should tell us some things. For example, Harry's background. Or my aunt and uncle, whom I've never met—Harry's parents. Or those magical abilities. I think we can be more honest as a family." He emphasized the last words, his gaze sweeping over each of them.
Harry's eyes lit up. He looked from Dudley to his aunt and uncle, then sat obediently in his seat, waiting quietly for what would come next.
After hearing Dudley's words, Vernon and Petunia fell into a rare, shared silence. They knew their son's personality. He had never caused them a moment of worry, whether in his studies or his interactions with others. In fact, their family's surprisingly harmonious relationship was largely due to Dudley's efforts. But this child was also incredibly opinionated.
Let's tell them. It was the silent conclusion they had both reached last night. At this point, there was no longer any use in hiding the truth.
"Alright," Petunia began, her voice hoarse with unshed tears. "Since you want to know, I'll tell you. It starts when my sister and I were children..."
As she spoke, a long-sealed memory unfolded before Dudley and Harry. It was a story of wizards, magic, and ordinary people; of laughter, sorrow, and overwhelming helplessness.
When Petunia was young, she had yearned for the wizarding world. After her sister, Lily, went to Hogwarts, Petunia had written several desperate letters to Dumbledore, begging to go with her. But she had no talent for magic, and Dumbledore had cruelly, if kindly, rejected her.
But this did not extinguish her longing. Through various means, she learned what she could. She learned of Dementors, of Death Eaters, and even of the dark wizard, Voldemort. She knew he had killed many half-bloods and Muggles. And then she learned of her sister's death... a tragedy that finally, completely shattered her dream of ever entering the magical world.
She had agreed to adopt Harry knowing everything. It was the last thing she could do for her sister. She may have been an unqualified aunt, she thought, but she had tried to be a responsible older sister.
When she spoke of finding a sleeping baby in a cradle on her doorstep, her story abruptly stopped.
Harry knew, without being told, that the baby in the cradle was him.
After she finished, Harry looked at her, his expression a complex mixture of emotions. "So my parents didn't die in a car accident," he said, his voice quiet but steady. "They were killed?" The lie he had been told his entire life crumbled away.
"Harry, I'm so sorry," Petunia whispered, looking into his green eyes as if seeing her sister's ghost.
Harry just shook his head slightly. He looked at Petunia, his gaze full of a surprising sincerity. "You didn't tell me for my own good." He stood and bowed respectfully to her. "Thank you for taking care of me all these years, and for all the trouble I've caused."
Having grown up alongside Dudley, Harry was far more mature than most children his age. Knowing the full story, he felt only a deep, profound respect for his aunt.
Hearing this, Vernon looked at Harry with an expression of genuine friendliness for the first time, his face full of relief. As for Petunia, she covered her mouth tightly, her eyes glistening as the emotions she had suppressed for so long finally overwhelmed her.
"Those people... their methods are terrifying and cruel," she sobbed. "Vernon and I... we didn't want to see you also..." Her voice broke. "That night, you lost your parents... and I lost my only sister..."
"Petunia, it's not your fault."
A sudden voice sounded from the doorway. It seemed to contain a kind of magic, bringing a feeling of peace to the soul. The front door slowly swung open, and standing on the threshold was a kindly-faced old man with a long, white beard. At his feet stood a familiar tabby cat.
"Eavesdropping is a very rude habit," Dudley said, looking at Dumbledore with open displeasure.
"My big little fellow, please forgive me," Dumbledore said with a wink, his eyes twinkling. "I just happened to overhear." He had originally intended to call Dudley 'little fellow,' but realizing the boy was nearly as tall as he was, he'd amended it. "Allow me to introduce myself. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts."
After hearing his mother's story, combined with the terrifying experience at the seaside shack, Harry felt an instinctive rejection of Hogwarts. The thought that it had caused Dudley to get hurt, that he might be separated from his cousin forever, becoming people from two different worlds... all the grief and indignation surged into his heart.
Hearing Dumbledore's name, Harry's eyes instantly turned red. A surge of heat rushed to his head, making his eardrums buzz. He could no longer bear it.
He roared at the old wizard, his voice raw with a child's pain and fury.
"I! Harry Potter! Will NEVER go to Hogwarts!"
***
(End of Chapter)
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