The shack shuddered under the weight of the wind, each gust rattling the warped boards and sending a fine mist of saltwater through the cracks. The sea below pounded the rocks in a slow, relentless rhythm. The air inside was damp and cold, heavy with the smell of brine and mildew.
Harry lay curled on the thin mattress in the corner, the blanket pulled tight around his shoulders. Dudley sprawled on the sagging sofa, snoring in short, uneven bursts. Petunia sat stiffly on a crate, her hands clasped in her lap, lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. Vernon sat near the door, a shotgun balanced across his knees, his eyes darting to every creak and groan of the shack.
This place is charming, Nyx murmured in his mind. If you like the smell of wet socks and despair.
Stay alert, Hedwig said.
Vernon checked his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. "Nearly midnight," he muttered. "They won't find us here."
The wind dropped for a heartbeat. Then came the first knock — deep, deliberate, and heavy enough to make the door jump in its frame.
Vernon jolted, the shotgun slipping from his grip and clattering to the floor. "Who's there?" he barked, his voice cracking.
Silence.
The second knock was louder, rattling the hinges.
"Vernon—" Petunia began.
"I heard it!" he snapped.
The third knock was followed by the sharp crack of splintering wood. The door burst inward, slamming against the wall, and a giant of a man filled the frame. His hair and beard were a wild tangle, his shoulders so broad they nearly brushed the sides.
"Sorry 'bout the door," he said, ducking inside. "Thing was stuck — couldn't get it open polite‑like."
"It wasn't stuck," Harry said. "It was locked."
The man's eyes crinkled. "Aye, well, that too."
Vernon lunged for the shotgun, fumbling to bring it up. "Out! I'll call the police!"
The man turned his head slowly, stepped forward, and plucked the gun from Vernon's hands as if it weighed nothing. He examined it briefly, then bent the barrel into a neat horseshoe with a single twist. He handed it back. "Safer that way."
Dudley whimpered. Petunia's eyes widened. Vernon's face went blotchy.
The man turned to Harry. "You're a hard lad to track down. Happy birthday."
From inside his massive coat, he produced a slightly squashed cake and held it out.
Harry took it carefully. "Thank you."
"Who are you?"
"Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."
"Hog—what?"
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And you, Harry, are a wizard."
Harry stared. "I'm a what?"
"A wizard. And a thumpin' good one, once you've been trained."
Vernon's face turned purple. "We swore we'd put a stop to this nonsense!"
"You knew and never told me?" Harry demanded.
Petunia's voice was sharp. "We swore to keep you away from their kind."
"Their kind?" Harry asked.
"My sister," Petunia said, her voice tight. "She got a letter, just like you. Off she went to that school. Came back every holiday with pockets full of frog spawn and her head full of nonsense. Then she met that Potter boy. And after all that, she went and got herself blown up."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "You told me they died in a car crash."
Hagrid's head snapped toward him. "Car crash? That's what they told you? Rubbish. Lily and James Potter didn't die in any car crash. They were murdered. Murdered by the darkest wizard there ever was."
Harry's breath caught. "Murdered? Why?"
"Because they stood up to him. He tried to kill you too, but he couldn't. No one knows why. But you're the only one who's ever survived him."
Harry swallowed hard. "So that's why—"
"That's why you're famous in our world," Hagrid said. "Even if you don't know it."
Vernon stepped forward. "That's enough! He's not going to that school!"
Hagrid reached into his coat and pulled out a thick envelope. "Your letter. Term starts September first. We'll get your school things tomorrow."
Vernon's voice was low and deliberate. "If he goes to this crackpot school, he's never to come back here. Ever. I don't want to see him again."
"That's the first sensible thing you've said all night," Hagrid replied. "He doesn't belong here."
Petunia's lips thinned. "We've kept him clothed and fed—"
"Fed?" Hagrid's gaze swept over Harry. "You call this fed?"
Harry smirked faintly. "I've had rumours of food."
Hagrid's mouth twitched. "Get some rest, Harry. Big day tomorrow."
Harry nodded, clutching the letter.
Well, Nyx said, looks like your life just got a lot more interesting.
It's only beginning, Hedwig said.
The wind howled outside, the sea roared below, and for the first time in years, Harry felt something warm settle in his chest.
Hagrid moved to the fireplace, pulled a pink umbrella from his coat, and tapped the grate. Flames leapt up, filling the shack with sudden warmth.
Dudley flinched. Petunia glared at the fire as though it had personally offended her.
Hagrid rummaged in his coat again and produced a bundle wrapped in paper. "Brought some sausages. Bit cold now, but they'll do."
Harry took one and bit into it. "Better than anything I've had here."
Vernon's mouth opened, but Hagrid's look shut it again.
"We'll take the first boat in the morning," Hagrid said. "Then the train to London. Diagon Alley's where we'll get your things."
"Diagon Alley," Harry repeated.
"Books, robes, cauldron, wand," Hagrid said. "The wand chooses the wizard. Best part."
Harry glanced at the bent shotgun still in Vernon's hands. "Might be safer than that."
Hagrid chuckled. "A fair sight more useful."
Dudley shifted, eyeing the cake. Without looking, Hagrid flicked his umbrella; a sharp snap made Dudley yelp and pull his hand back.
"Cake's for Harry," Hagrid said.
Harry set it beside him. "I've never had a birthday cake before."
"You have now," Hagrid said.
The fire crackled. The wind pressed at the walls, but the shack felt less cold.
Harry pulled the blanket tighter, the letter still in his hand. "So tomorrow I see this other world."
"Aye," Hagrid said. "And you'll see where you belong."
Harry lay back, the sound of the waves mixing with the steady beat of his heart, and let the warmth of the fire and the weight of the coat settle over him. The word wizard echoed in his mind as he drifted toward sleep.