As he listened to Hagrid's words, Harry paid close attention to every detail in his voice.
"So… you knew my parents?" he asked.
Then, realizing it was impolite to leave someone standing at the door, he added politely,
"Excuse me, Mr. Hagrid. Please, come in."
"Oh, no, no," Hagrid replied awkwardly. "I'm far too big to fit in here. And we still need to get to Diagon Alley. If you don't mind, we can talk on the way."
"All right," Harry nodded.
Hagrid stepped aside at once. Only when Harry walked outside did he truly realize just how tall Hagrid was.
"Wow… you're really tall," Harry said, looking up.
"You're not the first to say that," Hagrid replied with a sheepish grin. He scratched his wild hair, then hesitated. "But… shouldn't we tell your aunt? She is your guardian, after all."
"I think my aunt and uncle would be quite happy if you took me away," Harry said, his words carrying a subtle double meaning.
"Really?" Hagrid asked doubtfully.
At that moment, heavy footsteps thundered from inside the house, followed by a familiar roar.
"Harry Potter—!"
Hagrid turned toward the sound of Uncle Vernon's voice. Harry noticed and discreetly tugged at Hagrid's sleeve, pointing behind him.
"Hagrid… what was that?"
Taking advantage of the distraction, Harry turned sharply and met Uncle Vernon's furious gaze as he charged down the stairs like a raging bull. Harry raised a hand to cover his mouth, fixed his eyes on him, and murmured a spell.
"Confundus."
Uncle Vernon stopped abruptly. He blinked several times, staring first at Harry, then at Hagrid. Muttering something unintelligible, he suddenly turned around and went back up the stairs, as if he had just remembered something important.
Hagrid scratched his head, puzzled.
"I… don't think I saw anything. Did you, Harry?"
"Must've imagined it," Harry replied calmly. "I thought it was a motorcycle."
Then he added thoughtfully,
"Like the one that often appears in my dreams… the kind that can fly."
"Harry…"
Hagrid's face lit up with astonishment. "You remember? You really remember? I was the one who brought you on a flying motorbike to the Dursleys' house!"
Before he could finish, rapid knocking came from the window.
They both turned and saw Uncle Vernon pointing furiously at them, his mouth moving nonstop.
"Your uncle… what's he doing?" Hagrid asked, uneasy.
Harry shaded his eyes with one hand and explained seriously,
"He's saying you must be very happy."
Hagrid hesitated, glancing back at Vernon, who was still gesturing angrily.
"That doesn't sound very happy to me."
"They're Muggles," Harry said, dabbing at imaginary tears. "Their way of showing affection is different from ours. You see… I was separated from my mother when I was very young."
"Oh, Harry…"
Hagrid bent down and wrapped him in a tight, affectionate hug.
Harry didn't resist. When Hagrid finally let go, he looked up and asked,
"So, Hagrid… how are we getting there?"
"Well… by train," Hagrid replied. "I've heard there are several trains an hour from Surrey to London. Oh—and did you bring your school letter?"
Harry patted his pocket and smiled broadly.
"Right here."
"Good lad."
Hagrid ruffled Harry's messy hair with his enormous hand.
"You're looking more and more like your mum. Come on—let's get to the station."
People as large as Hagrid inevitably drew attention—not only for getting stuck at the ticket barriers, but also for taking up more than one seat on the train.
Once they were seated, Harry spoke again.
"Hagrid… did you really know my parents?"
"Oh, of course I did." Hagrid chuckled softly as he knitted something pale yellow, shaped like a sack. "I got on very well with them—especially your mother, Lily. She was kind, clever… everyone liked her."
"And your father, James," Hagrid continued, his beetle-black eyes shining with nostalgia, "was an excellent Gryffindor Quidditch player. A remarkable lad… I don't think I ever met anyone more devoted than him."
"Really?" Harry's eyes sparkled.
For years, he had longed to know what it was like to have parents. Whenever he saw Dudley being spoiled, he couldn't help but wonder how his life might have been if they were still alive.
Not like this.
Not alone.
The ache slowly turned into anger.
"So…" Harry said quietly, "who was the Dark Wizard who killed my parents?"
Hagrid shuddered.
"It was the Dark Lord—"
"The Dark Lord?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Yes… him." Hagrid coughed nervously. "That Dark Wizard…"
Noticing Hagrid's fear, Harry placed a hand on his arm.
"If you don't want to say it, you don't have to."
"Oh no, Harry." Hagrid shook his head. "You need to know. It's just… no one likes to say his name."
"So everyone calls him something like… 'the Mysterious Man'?" Harry suggested.
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