Harry Potter had long ago learned three basic truths:
Dudley Dursley was roughly the size and temperament of a poorly designed bulldozer.
The cupboard under the stairs was slightly more luxurious than it sounded, provided you enjoyed the scent of mothballs and ancient socks.
Sometimes, just sometimes, life got a little... weird.
Like the time he accidentally dodged a cricket bat by sneezing. Or the time the school bully tripped over his own shoes mid-punch and somehow gave himself a black eye. Or last Tuesday, when the microwave started smoking and Petunia blamed him, only for it to miraculously start working again when he touched it.
"That boy is unnatural," Aunt Petunia had hissed that morning. "He fixed it with his hands, Vernon. Like some sort of freak."
Vernon just shrugged and said, "Must've been static electricity."
Static electricity now explained exploding kettles, spontaneously locked doors, and the time Dudley's trousers fell during assembly in front of the entire school.
Sunday Morning – 4 Privet Drive
Harry awoke to a thud at the door. Then another. Then what sounded like a very disgruntled chicken on crack.
Thud. Scratch scratch. THUMP.
He opened the door to a vaguely cube-shaped owl having a slow-motion meltdown on the welcome mat, clutching a very formal-looking letter in its beak. The bird stared at Harry like it was just as confused as he was.
"Uh… hi?"
The owl plopped the envelope into his hand, then took off, crashing into a hedge with all the grace of a lawn chair tossed off a roof.
Harry flipped the envelope over.
The handwriting was curly and elegant, and the ink smelled suspiciously like destiny.
Mr. Harry Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging Surrey
"…Wtf is this."
He mumbled as he opened it.
Five Minutes Later
"UNCLE VERNON!"
There was something about the way Harry's voice cracked that made Vernon Dursley choke on his toast.
"What now, boy?"
"I got a letter. From a school. It says I'm a wizard."
Vernon's face turned a shade of purple previously seen only on spoiled eggplants.
"I knew it!" Aunt Petunia shrieked. "I knew they'd come for him one day! That hair, those eyes, the constant, inexplicable good fortune!"
Vernon snatched the letter and read it, muttering darkly about "hippie professors" and "exploding teapots."
"Petunia, get the hammer. We're going to seal the mail slot."
The Next Week
You know how most people get junk mail?
Harry got owls. Hundreds of them.
Owls in the fireplace. Owls in the toilet. An owl in his cereal, which blinked at him and hooted softly as it shat on his spoon.
Letters flew in through the cracks in the walls, the air vents, even somehow managing to slip in through the plumbing just as it had a problem.
Lucky.
Eventually, the Dursleys gave up and fled to a shack in the middle of nowhere on a rainy island in the sea, because Vernon clearly believed that the only solution to escaping a magical education system was... complete isolation.
It didn't work.
Midnight, Stormy Island, July 31st
Harry sat on the floor, drawing birthday cake in the dust. "Happy birthday, me," he mumbled.
BOOM.
The door exploded off its hinges. Not opened. Not knocked. Just yeeted into the fireplace.
What looked to be a giant ducked inside, hair as shaggy as a dog with a beard.
"Sorry 'bout the door," the man said, brushing dust off his coat. "Got a bit enthusiastic."
Harry blinked.
A few minutes later
"You're a wizard, Harry."
Harry blinked harder.
"Okay. Sure. Fine. That actually explains a lot."
As Hagrid explained the magical world, Harry sat in stunned silence. It was like everything weird in his life suddenly snapped into focus.
"Wait, wait—so I'm magic? Real magic?"
"Aye. One of the most famous there is," Hagrid said, chest puffing proudly. "The Boy Who Lived."
Harry frowned. "I survived a murder attempt as a baby?"
"Yup."
"That sounds suspiciously like something only a main character would do."
Hagrid chuckled. "It's more than luck, that is."
As they left the hut, Hagrid tripped over a crab and flung his umbrella wand into the ocean.
It somehow landed directly in his hand a second later.
"…Weird," he muttered.
Harry just nodded. "Yeah. I get that a lot."