Incinerate Odyssey

by Norwegian Man

On a Halloween night, the evil Lord Voldemort tries to kill a baby Harry Potter, but the impossible happens, and the boy survives. The worlds of Harry Potter and High School DxD intertwine in an exciting adventure full of magic, action, and supernatural challenges. What adventures await the young possessor of a mysterious artifact? And why does that sword pursue him everywhere?

2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad Wizarding World!"

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It's a Mad, Mad, Mad Wizarding World!

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Saturday, November 2, 1991.

A man appeared on the corner, his presence so unexpected and silent that it could have been mistaken for an illusion. The cat, a silent witness to the arrival of the stranger, maintained its intense and cautious gaze. The man was tall and slim, his figure old but elegant. His silver mane and long beard, rivalling those of a venerable medieval wizard, were as exquisite as his clothes. He wore a long robe of a deep purple colour, which seemed to absorb light as he moved, and his buckle-adorned boots gleamed with the mystery of someone leading a life full of secrets. Behind half-moon glasses, his blue eyes were penetrating and bright, seeming to contain the wisdom of centuries of history. His nose, crooked as if it had experienced many mishaps and adventures, gave him a distinctive air. His name, Albus Dumbledore, resonated with authority and power in the vast world of magic.

Lost in his thoughts, he rummaged through the folds of his cloak, searching for something precious. However, amid his task, he sensed that he was not alone, feeling a gaze fixed on him, and his eyes turned to the cat watching him from a distance.

The cat's tail twitched with a hint of distrust, and its eyes narrowed, as if assessing the newcomer. Surprisingly, the cat's vision amused Dumbledore, who let out a soft, whispering laugh.

Finally, he found what he was looking for in the inner pocket of his cloak: a small silver object resembling a lighter. With a skilled gesture, he opened it and raised it into the air, unleashing a magical sequence. The streetlights and bulbs faded with a slight burst, one after another, as if Dumbledore's charm reached each lamppost and light. Darkness took hold of Privet Drive, and only the distant glints of the cat's eyes remained, still watching him with curiosity.

Though Dumbledore's act was astonishing, he did not seem concerned about the consequences of turning off the streetlights. Unperturbed, he headed towards number 4 Privet Drive, where he sat on a nearby wall next to the cat. Although his eyes did not land on the animal, he spoke to it with an uncommon calm:

— "Glad to see you here, Professor McGonagall." —But to Dumbledore's surprise, instead of the cat, it was a woman of stern and elegant appearance who responded with a smile. Professor Minerva McGonagall, dressed in an emerald cloak and square-framed glasses, seemed more than a mere woman. She was a powerful witch, with wisdom and experience rivalling that of Dumbledore.

— "How did you know it was me?" —Minerva McGonagall asked with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

— "My dear professor, I had never seen a cat so unflappable. It was clear it could only be you." —The mischievous old man smiled with a spark of complicity in his eyes.

McGonagall did not seem convinced, and concern reflected on her face as both shared their impressions about the rumours and the tragedy that had just occurred. They discussed the mysterious survival of the little Harry Potter and his future in the hands of his Muggle relatives, the Dursleys.

At that moment, the deserted streets filled with a distant rumble that grew louder. Dumbledore and McGonagall turned their gaze to the sky, seeking the source of the noise, and soon a gigantic motorbike descended from the sky to land in front of them. The rider of the bike was even more impressive than his vehicle; he was a huge man, so tall that his head brushed the clouds, and his black hair and unruly beard gave him a dishevelled air, but his gaze reflected kindness and loyalty. He was Rubeus Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hagrid held a bundle wrapped in blankets in his muscular arms. Dumbledore and McGonagall hurried to examine the contents: an innocent-looking baby with a curious lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

— "Glad you made it, Hagrid. Where did you get that bike?" —Dumbledore asked with a smile.

— "Borrowed it from Sirius Black, Professor Dumbledore, poor lad, he was very upset." —Hagrid replied in a gruff voice. — "I brought it to deliver the little Harry."—

Dumbledore nodded approvingly as McGonagall observed the baby with tenderness. Little Harry slept soundly, oblivious to his fame and destiny.

— "We'll leave him here, Hagrid. It's better to get this over with." —Dumbledore said, with a serene determination in his voice.

Thus, Hagrid gently placed the baby in front of the door of number 4 Privet Drive, and Dumbledore tucked a letter among the blankets, a letter containing the truth about Harry's legacy and what had happened regarding Lord Voldemort, or the theory of what happened, because no one knew for sure what transpired on that fateful night in the Godric's Hollow, no living soul at least.

As the three contemplated little Harry, Hagrid couldn't contain his emotions and wiped away tears with his enormous hand. — "Sorry... can't bear it... Lily and James gone... and poor little Harry having to live with Muggles..." —

McGonagall comforted him, understanding the difficulty of leaving such a special child in such a mundane and non-magical environment as the Dursleys'. But Dumbledore, with his characteristic calmness, explained the reasons behind his decision. — "His aunt and uncle will be his best protection, Minerva. His Muggle blood will shield him from the trace of those seeking vengeance. They will care for him and prepare him for the moment he discovers who he truly is." —

McGonagall nodded, accepting Dumbledore's reasons, though not without reservations. She had seen enough wonders and miracles in the magical world to know that Harry Potter was destined to be something extraordinary.

Finally, Hagrid bid an emotional farewell and rode off on his imposing motorbike, returning to his magical life and duties at Hogwarts. Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked one last time at little Harry on the doorstep, knowing that his future was filled with challenges and mysteries.

— "Good luck, Harry." —he murmured, and with a sweep of his cloak, he disappeared into the darkness of the night.

A light breeze rustled the hedges of Privet Drive, as if the magic of the moment had left its mark. The street remained silent under a starry sky, oblivious to the destiny that had just been sealed. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, continued to rest, unaware of his future fame, while the magical world prepared for the future that awaited them all. Even in the darkness of the night, a glimmer of hope shone deep in the hearts of Dumbledore and McGonagall, and in the hearts of those who knew the truth: Harry Potter had saved them, changing the course of magical history forever.

~ Life 0 ~

Saturday, June 23 2001…

It had been approximately ten years since the day the Dursleys woke up to find their nephew on the doorstep, but Privet Drive had not changed at all. The sun rose over the same little gardens, illuminated the brass number 4 on the Dursleys' door, and moved into their living room, which was almost the same as the one where Mr. Dursley had heard the ominous news about owls ten years ago. Only the pictures on the fireplace mantel testified to the time that had passed. Ten years ago, there were many portraits of what looked like a large pink ball with hats of different colours, but Dudley Dursley was no longer a little boy, and the pictures now showed a big, blond boy riding his first bike, on a carousel at the fair, playing with his father on the computer, kissed and hugged by his mother. The room showed no signs that another child lived there.

However, Harry Potter was still there, sleeping at that moment, though not for long. His Aunt Petunia had awakened, and her shrill voice was the first sound of the day. — "Up! Get up! Now!" —

Harry woke up with a start. His aunt called to the door again. — "Up!" — she shrieked again. Harry heard her steps towards the kitchen and then the sizzle of the frying pan on the stove. The boy rolled over and tried to remember the dream he had. It was nice. There was a flying motorcycle. He had the curious feeling that he had dreamed the same thing before.

His aunt came back to the door. — "Are you up yet?" — she inquired.

— "Almost." — Harry replied.

— "Well, hurry up. I want you to watch the bacon. And don't let it burn. I want everything to be perfect on Duddy's birthday." — Aunt Petunia exclaimed hysterically, and Harry groaned.

— "What did you say?" — she yelled angrily from the other side of the door.

— "Nothing, nothing..." —

Dudley's birthday... how could he have forgotten? Harry got up slowly and began to search for his socks. He found a pair under the bed and, after shaking a spider out of one, put them on. Harry was used to spiders because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that's where he slept.

Once dressed, he went to the hallway and entered the kitchen. The table was almost covered with Dudley's birthday presents. It seemed that he had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. The exact reason why Dudley would want a bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise unless it involved hitting someone, of course. Dudley's favourite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't catch him very often. Although it didn't seem like it, Harry was very fast. Maybe it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been skinny and very short for his age. Besides, he looked smaller and thinner than he really was because all the clothes he wore were Dudley's old ones, and his cousin was four times bigger than him.

Harry had a thin face, bony knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He always wore round glasses taped together, a consequence of all the times Dudley had hit him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his appearance was that small scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt. He had it as long as he could remember, and the first thing he remembered asking Aunt Petunia was how he got it.

— "In the car crash where your parents died." — Aunt Petunia had said. — "And don't ask questions." —

«Don't ask questions»: that was the first rule to observe if you wanted to live a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Harry sighed and continued making breakfast while Aunt Petunia and Dudley chatted excitedly about the special day awaiting them at the zoo. Although he was sad about the treatment he received, Harry had learned to hide his emotions.

As Dudley and his family were getting ready to leave for the zoo, Harry looked sadly out the window. There was something inside him that longed for freedom and adventure, like the flying motorcycle in his dreams, but he knew he wouldn't find anything but boredom and contempt in that place.

Harry was in the kitchen, flipping the bacon in the pan, when Uncle Vernon burst in like a whirlwind.

— "Comb your hair!" — he roared in a morning tone.

Once a week, without fail, Uncle Vernon would stop looking at his newspaper and shout that Harry needed a haircut. Although he had already had his hair cut more times than any other kid in his class could imagine, it seemed that his hair had a life of its own and grew wildly in all directions.

While frying the eggs, Dudley, Harry's cousin, appeared in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon, with his big rosy face, short neck, small blue eyes, and thick blond hair covering his bulging head. Aunt Petunia proudly said that Dudley looked like an angel, but Harry always compared him to a pig with a wig.

Harry served the plates of eggs and bacon on the table, which was almost covered and had little space. Meanwhile, Dudley counted his birthday gifts. His face darkened.

— "Thirty-six." — Dudley said, looking at his parents. — "Two less than last year." —

— "Dear, you haven't counted Aunt Marge's gift yet. It's under this one, next to Mom and Dad's." — Aunt Petunia quickly added.

— "Oh, then it's thirty-seven." — Dudley said, turning red.

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

— "The boy wants to be recognized for what he's worth, just like his father. Well done, Dudley!" — he exclaimed, tousling his son's hair.

At that moment, the phone rang, and Aunt Petunia went to answer it, while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap his racing bike, video camera, remote-controlled plane, and sixteen new computer games. Dudley was about to unpack a gold watch when Aunt Petunia returned, looking worried.

— "Bad news, Vernon." — Aunt Petunia said. — "Mrs. Figg broke her leg. She can't take care of Harry." — Then she glanced at Harry.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Every year, on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him to an amusement park, for burgers, or to the movies with a friend, while Harry stayed with Mrs. Figg, an eccentric old lady who lived two blocks away. Harry didn't like going there because the whole house smelled of cabbage, and Mrs. Figg always overwhelmed him with pictures of all her cats.

— "And now what do we do?" — Tía Petunia asked, looking at Harry angrily, as if it were his fault. Harry knew he should feel sorry for Mrs. Figg's leg, but it was hard when he thought about having to spend another year with Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, or Tufty.

— "We can call Marge." — Uncle Vernon suggested.

Harry shuddered at the sound of that name. Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister, and although she wasn't Harry's real aunt, she had been a terrifying presence in his life as long as he could remember.

The mere thought of Aunt Marge brought back memories of the horrors he had endured at her hands. He remembered the times she came to visit and stayed at Privet Drive, filling the house with her loud laughter and cruel comments. Aunt Marge always found something Harry could be wrong about or do wrong, and she didn't hesitate to humiliate him in public.

His memories focused on one particular occasion when he was eight years old, and Aunt Marge was visiting the Dursleys. He had been playing in the garden with Dudley, who teased him for not having friends. Aunt Marge joined in the teasing and began imitating the way Harry spoke, ridiculing his voice and appearance. Everyone laughed, and Harry wished with all his might that he could disappear at that moment.

Another time, Aunt Marge had brought her large and fierce dogs, which terrified Harry to the point of hiding in the cupboard under the stairs for hours. Aunt Marge laughed and said that Harry was a coward and would never amount to anything in life.

— "Don't be silly, Vernon; she can't stand the boy." — Aunt Petunia replied, with Harry silently sighing in pure relief.

The Dursleys often spoke of Harry contemptuously, as if he weren't present, or as if he were so foolish that he couldn't understand them, like an insignificant worm.

— "They could leave me here." — Harry suggested hopefully. Then he could watch TV for once and maybe even play on Dudley's computer.

Aunt Petunia looked at him as if he had said something unheard of. — "And come back to find the house a mess?" — she replied, frowning.

— "I'm not going to set the house on fire." — Harry said, but his words fell on deaf ears.

— "I guess we can take him to the zoo." — Aunt Petunia said in a low voice. — "...and leave him in the car..." —

— "The car is new; I can't leave him alone there..." —

Dudley started whining. He hadn't cried for years, but he knew that if he faked a tantrum, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

— "My little Dudley, don't cry; Mom won't let him ruin your special day." — Aunt Petunia said, hugging her son.

— "I... don't... want... him... to... come!" — Dudley exclaimed between fake tears. — "He always ruins everything!" — He gave a mocking look to Harry from his mother's arms.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

— "Oh, God! They're here already!" — Aunt Petunia exclaimed in despair, and shortly after, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, entered with his mother. Piers was a skinny boy with a rat-like face. He used to hold the kids while Dudley beat them. Dudley stopped crying immediately.

Half an hour later, Harry found himself in the back seat of the Dursleys' car, next to Dudley and Piers, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. The Dursleys hadn't found a better solution, but before they left, Uncle Vernon approached Harry.

— "Listen well." — he said, bringing his red face close to Harry's. — "I warn you now, boy: if you do anything strange, anything at all, I'll lock you in the cupboard until Christmas." —

— "I'm not going to do anything." — Harry said. — "Really..." —

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one did.

The problem was that strange things often happened around Harry, but he had no control over them. Despite his explanations, the Dursleys always thought he was to blame. There was a time when Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry returning from the hairdresser with the same messy hair, took scissors from the kitchen and cut his hair almost bald, leaving only a fringe to "hide that horrible scar." But the next day, Harry was surprised to find that his hair had grown again, and of course, he was punished and locked in the cupboard for a week.

Another time, Aunt Petunia tried to dress him in Dudley's hideous old sweater (brown, with orange stains). No matter how hard she tried to put it over his head, the sweater shrank until it would only fit on a wrist. But when Harry explained that he didn't know how it happened, he only received a scolding and was sent back to the cupboard. There was even a time when they found him on the roof of the school kitchen, which earned him a warning letter from the principal. Harry had no explanation for these events, but he was always punished as if he were the cause.

That afternoon, at the zoo, everything seemed to be going well. Harry enjoyed a different day with Dudley and Piers, although he kept away from them to avoid being hit. They ate at the zoo's restaurant, and when Dudley had a fit of rage because his sandwich wasn't big enough, Uncle Vernon bought him another one, and Harry was allowed to finish the first one.

Later, Harry would think that it was too good to last. After eating, they went to see the reptiles in a dark and cold place with illuminated windows. Dudley and Piers wanted to see the most dangerous snakes, but the giant boa constrictor they found was asleep.

— "Make it move." — Dudley demanded of his father.

Uncle Vernon hit the glass, but the snake didn't move.

— "Do it again." — Dudley ordered.

Uncle Vernon tried again, but the snake kept dozing.

— "This is boring." — Dudley complained.

Harry approached the glass and looked at the snake. It seemed as lonely as being in his cupboard, with stupid people hitting the glass all day.

Suddenly, the snake opened its small shiny eyes and raised its head to Harry's level.

The snake winked at him.

— "~I go through this all the time.~" — Harry murmured, thinking the snake might understand him.

The snake nodded.

— "~Where are you from?~" — Harry asked.

The snake pointed its tail to a sign: "Boa Constrictor, Brazil."

— "~Was it nice there?~" —

The snake shook its head.

— "~Have you never been to Brazil?~" —

The snake shook its head again. Just then, a deafening scream interrupted them.

— "DUDLEY! COME SEE THE SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!" —

Dudley quickly came, swaying as much as he could.

— "Get out of the way." — he ordered, hitting Harry in the ribs and making him fall to the concrete floor. But what happened next was so fast that no one knew how it had happened: Piers and Dudley, who were leaning near the glass, jumped back, howling in terror.

Harry got up quickly and stood open-mouthed: the glass that enclosed the boa constrictor's enclosure had disappeared. The enormous snake had quickly uncoiled and was now sliding along the floor. The people in the reptile house screamed and ran towards the exits.

As the snake passed by him, Harry could have sworn that a low, hissing voice whispered:

— "~Brazil, here I come... Thanks, mate.~" —

— "But... where's the glass?" — repeated the reptile keeper — "Where did the glass go?" —

As panic swept through the zoo, a young girl of about ten walked with her father toward the exit. They had already toured the zoo and were heading for lunch. The girl had a curious and lively look in her eyes as she watched people running and screaming, not quite understanding what was happening.

— "Dad why are people so scared?" — the girl asked innocently, grabbing her father's hand.

Her father frowned and looked around, trying to find an explanation. He wasn't used to situations like this, or at least not in a normal sense, but he tried to stay calm to avoid alarming his daughter.

— "I don't know, Irina-chan. It seems something happened at the zoo" — he replied, trying to sound calm. — "Maybe it's better if we get away from here just in case." —

Irina, being the little girl's name, nodded, although still looking a bit confused. As they moved away from the zoo, they crossed paths with more people running in the opposite direction, making Irina hold onto her father's hand tightly.

Suddenly, amid the chaos, Irina noticed something that caught her attention: a huge and majestic snake slithering nearby. Unlike the people fleeing, the snake seemed calm and serene.

— "Look, Dad!" — exclaimed Irina, pointing at the snake. — "It's so pretty." —

Her father followed his daughter's gaze and was surprised to see the snake. While it was unusual to encounter a snake in a place like that, his bad habits made him think it was something worse, although he would remain alert.

— "Yes, it's beautiful" — he replied, keeping his eyes on it. — "But I think we should continue our way, Irina-chan." —

As they walked away, Irina turned around to take another look at the snake. To her surprise, the snake seemed to be looking directly into her eyes, and somehow, Irina had the strange feeling that the snake understood her.

— "Goodbye, snake!" — said Irina with a smile, waving her little hand towards the reptile.

Her dad couldn't help but smile at his daughter's innocence and sweetness. After leaving the zoo, Irina, and her father, Touji, continued their stroll.

The keeper was shocked, but there was no trace of the glass. However, the worst, at least for Harry, came when Piers calmed down and said:

"Harry was talking to it, right, Harry?" —

Uncle Vernon waited for Piers to leave before confronting Harry. He was so angry that he could hardly speak.

— "Cupboard... stay... no food. Now!" — he managed to say before collapsing into a chair. Aunt Petunia had to pour him a brandy. Uncle Vernon was furious with Harry.

Hours later, Harry lay in his dark cupboard, wishing he had a watch. He had lived with the Dursleys since his parents died. Sometimes, he remembered intense green fire and a comforting warmth, but he didn't know what it meant; he thought his mind just made it up to soothe his constant distress. Besides, he had no memories of his parents, as the Dursleys never talked about them, and he was forbidden to ask. There were no pictures of his parents in the house either.

As a child, Harry used to dream of some unknown relative coming to take him away, but that never happened. The Dursleys were his only family. Sometimes, however, he thought or rather wished that there were unfamiliar people who acted as if they knew him. They were very peculiar strangers. A little man with a purple hat once greeted him while shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. When Harry angrily asked if she knew the man, Aunt Petunia quickly took them out of the store without buying anything.

Once, an old lady in an extravagant green outfit cheerfully greeted him on a bus. And another day, a bald man in a long purple coat shook his hand on the street and walked away without saying a word. The strangest thing about all these encounters was how they seemed to fade away the moment Harry tried to approach. At school, Harry had no friends. Everyone knew that Dudley's gang hated the odd Harry Potter, with his old, baggy clothes, broken glasses, and no one wanted to face Dudley's gang.

~ Life 1: Am I a Wizard? ~

The escape of the boa constrictor was the longest punishment of his life for Harry. When they finally allowed him to leave his cupboard, the summer holidays had already begun, and Dudley, with his typical clumsiness, had caused havoc. Catching Harry became Dudley and his gang's favourite pastime, who harassed him constantly.

Harry longed for the holidays to end, leaving behind that nightmare, and starting secondary school, even if it meant not sharing a classroom with Dudley. While awaiting the start of the new school term, his life with the Dursleys did not improve. One day, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his school uniform while leaving Harry with Mrs. Figg. Despite Mrs. Figg's broken leg, Harry found some relief in her company.

The Dursleys' kitchen was filled with tension as the correspondence arrived with his unexpected letter. A thick and heavy envelope, made of yellowing parchment, addressed to Harry Potter, caused an unusual commotion in the house.

Mr. H. Potter

Cupboard Under the Stairs

Privet Drive, 4

Little Whinging

Surrey

— "It's mine!" —Harry exclaimed, trying to retrieve the letter that rightfully belonged to him.

— "Who would write to you?" —Uncle Vernon said disdainfully, opening the letter and changing his expression in seconds.

Aunt Petunia couldn't hide her astonishment and murmured— "Vernon! Oh, my God... Vernon!" —

Tension increased when Dudley demanded to read the letter as well but was promptly thrown out of the kitchen by his father.

Harry and Dudley, silently, tried to spy through the keyhole to discover the contents of the mysterious letter. Meanwhile, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia discussed how to deal with the matter.

— "I won't have one of them in the house, Petunia." —declared Uncle Vernon with determination, recalling ancient oaths.

That night, when he returned from work, Uncle Vernon did something he had never done before: he visited Harry in his cupboard.

— "Where is my letter?" —Harry said as Uncle Vernon struggled through the door. — "Who wrote to me?" —

— "No one. It was addressed to you by mistake." —Uncle Vernon said curtly. — "I burned it." —

— "It wasn't a mistake." —Harry said angrily. — "My cupboard was on the envelope." —

— "SILENCE!" —Uncle Vernon shouted, and spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a deep breath and then smiled, straining so much to do so that it seemed painful.

— "Oh, yes, Harry, about the cupboard... Your aunt and I were thinking... You're really too old for this... We thought it would be fine for you to move into Dudley's second bedroom" —Uncle Vernon suggested with a forced smile, proposing that Harry move into Dudley's bedroom.

— "Why?" —Harry asked.

— "Don't ask questions!" —Vernon exclaimed. — "Take your things upstairs right now." —

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley's screams to his mother.

— "I don't want him in there... I need that room... Kick him out..." —

Harry, in his new space, sat on the bed surrounded by Dudley's broken objects and old toys. Although he would have given anything to be in that room the day before, he now wished he had the letter he longed for.

The arrival of the mysterious letter marked a change in the monotony of his life. Directed to him, Harry was excited to receive his first letter. However, Uncle Vernon made sure it did not reach his hands, burning it to prevent Harry from reading it. Soon, more letters began to arrive, and Uncle Vernon decided to flee with his family to escape the senders.

The next morning, the atmosphere in the Dursleys' kitchen was heavy and silent. Dudley was shocked and had staged a series of outbursts and unacceptable acts but had not yet managed to reclaim his room. Meanwhile, Harry regretted not opening the letter in the hallway, bitterly thinking that it would have been wiser to do so.

The postman arrived with a new batch of letters, and this time Dudley was tasked with collecting them. His scream triggered a frantic race to the hallway, where everyone confronted the mysterious correspondence. Uncle Vernon managed to snatch the letter addressed to Harry, but not without a heated dispute.

Harry was in his new room, dealing with intrigue and trying to figure out how they knew he had left his cupboard. Would they try again? He was determined to be prepared.

The next day, Harry decided to pre-empt the postman and wait for him at the corner of Privet Drive. But he was surprised when he stumbled upon his uncle hidden in a sleeping bag by the door, ready to thwart his plans. Uncle Vernon continued to thwart deliveries, boarding up the door and preventing the arrival of letters.

However, attempts to prevent the letters from reaching Harry only made things worse. Envelopes began arriving through the chimney, window, and even with the milkman. Uncle Vernon felt defeated, but to escape, he took the family far away from home, pursued by an avalanche of letters.

They drove aimlessly, without stopping to eat or drink. Dudley was discontented and hungry, lamenting the lack of technological comforts. Finally, they stopped at a gloomy hotel, where they spent an uncomfortable night.

The next day, breakfast at the hotel was interrupted by the landlady, who delivered a substantial number of letters addressed to Harry. The mysterious letters continued to chase them relentlessly.

Uncle Vernon's plan to move to avoid the letters proved futile, as the senders apparently always knew their whereabouts. Finally, during a storm, they fled to a cliffside cabin. The storm raged, and as Harry anxiously awaited his eleventh birthday, he heard a strange noise outside.

Five minutes. Harry heard something crunching outside. He waited anxiously, hoping the roof wouldn't collapse, although maybe it would be warmer if it did. Four minutes. Maybe Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they returned that he could steal one.

Three minutes to the hour. Why was the sea crashing against the rocks so forcefully? And two minutes left, what was that strange noise? Were the rocks collapsing into the sea?

One minute, and he would be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty... ten... nine... maybe he would wake Dudley just to annoy him... three... two... one...

BOOM.

The entire cabin shook, and Harry sat up, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking.

The moment he turned eleven, someone knocked on the cabin door.

BOOM.

A new knock echoed on the door. Dudley woke up abruptly.

— "Where's the cannon?" —he asked stupidly.

A creak was heard behind them, and Uncle Vernon appeared in the room with a rifle in his hands; they knew what the long package he had brought contained.

— "Who's there?" —he shouted. — "I warn you, I'm armed!" —

A pause, and then...

A VIOLENT KNOCK WAS ALL THAT WAS HEARD!

The door collapsed with a bang, and a gigantic man emerged in the doorway. His face was practically hidden by a thick mane of hair and an unkempt beard, but his eyes, bright as black beetles, were visible beneath the tangle.

With ease, the giant repositioned the door and made his way inside. The storm continued to rage outside, but his presence seemed to calm it somewhat. He settled on the sofa, where Dudley was petrified with fear.

— "Get up, fatty." —the stranger said.

Dudley fled and sought refuge with his mother, who was also scared and hiding behind Uncle Vernon.

— "Ah! There you are, Harry!" —the giant said.

Harry looked up at the fierce and bearded face, finding a smile in his dark eyes.

— "The last time I saw you, you were just a baby." —said the giant. — "You look a lot like your father, but you have your mother's eyes." —

Uncle Vernon made a strange noise, as if it were a squeal.

— "I demand that you leave immediately, sir!" —said Uncle Vernon. — "This is breaking and entering!" —

— "Shut up, Dursley, you great fool," —the giant responded, stretching, and taking Uncle Vernon's rifle, giving it such a surprising spin that it threw it into a corner.

Another strange noise came from Uncle Vernon, as if a mouse had been crushed.

— "Anyway, Harry." —said the giant, ignoring the Dursleys. — "I wish you a very happy birthday. I have something here. I might have squashed it a bit, but it's sure to be delicious." —

He pulled out a somewhat battered box from the inside pocket of his black coat. Harry opened it with trembling hands and found a generous chocolate cake with a green message that said, "Happy Birthday, Harry."

Harry looked at the giant, about to thank him, but the words got stuck in his throat, and instead, he asked:

— "Who are you?" —

The giant chuckled. — "True, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." —

He shook Harry's hand, but his greeting was so strong that it practically shook his entire arm.

— "How about that tea, then?" —he said, rubbing his hands. — "Although I wouldn't say no to something stronger." —

Harry, still amazed, couldn't take his eyes off Hagrid until he finally dared to ask:

— "I'm sorry, but I still don't know who you are." —

Hagrid, taking a sip of tea, replied:

— "Call me Hagrid, everyone does. As I told you, I'm the Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts. You'll know all about Hogwarts, of course." —

— "Well... I don't..." —said Harry, feeling a bit lost.

Hagrid seemed impressed.

— "I'm sorry." —Harry hurriedly said.

But Hagrid was furious with the Dursleys.

— "Are you telling me that this lad, this lad, knows nothing... about ANYTHING?" —Hagrid roared, looking at Harry in disbelief.

Harry, bewildered, tried to defend himself:

— "I know some things." —he said. — "I can do sums and all that."

But Hagrid wasn't referring to that at all.

— "I mean our world. Your world. My world. Your parents' world." —

— "What world?" —Harry asked, confused.

— "DURSLEY!" —Hagrid roared, on the verge of exploding.

The Dursleys recoiled, frightened.

— "Haven't you told him? Haven't you talked to him about the letter Dumbledore left him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! And you've hidden it from him all these years?" —Hagrid said, outraged.

Harry was eager to know more.

— "What have they hidden from me?" —Harry asked.

— "STOP!" —roared Uncle Vernon, terrified.

But Hagrid couldn't hold back any longer.

— "I'm going to break their heads." —said Hagrid. — "Harry, you must know that you're a wizard." —

The news left Harry in shock.

— "That I'm what?" —said Harry, with a choked voice.

— "A wizard." —responded Hagrid, sitting back on the sofa. — "And a good one, I must add, once you've trained a bit. With parents like yours, what else could you be? And I think it's time you read the letter." —

With trembling hands, Harry took the yellowed envelope, addressed to "Mr. H. Potter, The Floor of the Hut on the Rock, The Sea." And then, finally, he began to read...

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class,

Great Wizard, Chief Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International

Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter:

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Classes start on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall.

Questions exploded in Harry's head like fireworks, and he did not know which one to ask first. After a few minutes, he stuttered:

— "What does that mean, they await my owl?" —

— "Right! I'll take care of that, don't worry." —Hagrid exclaimed, hitting his forehead hard, as if he wanted to knock down a horse. From another pocket, he pulled out a real owl, alive and with slightly ruffled feathers, also a large feather and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth, he wrote a note that Harry could read backward.

Dear Mr. Dumbledore:

I delivered Harry's letter. I'll take him tomorrow to buy his things.

The weather is horrible. I hope you are well.

Hagrid.

Hagrid rolled up the note and handed it to the owl, which took it with its beak. Then, he released it in the middle of the storm and sat down again, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Harry, amazed, quickly closed his gaping mouth.

— "Where was I?" —said Hagrid, resuming the conversation. But at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still pale and angry, approached the fireplace.

— "He won't go." —said Uncle Vernon, with an air of finality and anger.

Hagrid growled.

— "I'd like to see a great Muggle like you try to stop him." —he said. — "A Muggle is what we call non-magical people. And you had the bad luck to grow up in a family of the biggest Muggles I've ever seen." —

— "A what?" —Harry asked, confused.

— "A Muggle." —Hagrid responded. — "That's what your relatives are, 'non-magical' people. And yes, they knew you were a wizard. They knew that you are..." —

— "Know?!" —interrupted Aunt Petunia. — "Of course, we knew! How could you not be, knowing what my cursed sister was? Always doing strange things, got letters from that magical school, and then... then she disappeared. Back home with pockets full of frogs and turning teacups into rats. She was a monstrosity! But for my parents, no, for them it was 'Lily did this' and 'Lily did that'. They were proud to have a witch in the family." —

— "Did you know?" —Harry asked. — "Did you know that I was... a wizard?" —

— "Of course, we knew!" —Aunt Petunia squealed. — "And then she met that Potter at that school, and they got married, and then they had you, and of course we knew you'd be just as weird, an... abnormal." —

— "And then, as if that wasn't enough, that explosion happened, and we had to keep you!" —

Harry paled upon hearing part of the truth.

— "Explosion?" —inquired Harry. — "I was told they were drunks who died in a car accident!" —

— "A car accident!" —exclaimed Hagrid, jumping up, angry, while the Dursleys cowered in a corner. — "How could Lily and James Potter have died in a car accident? That's an outrage! A scandal! That Harry Potter doesn't know his own story, when every boy in our world knows his name!" —

Hagrid went on to explain the dark events of the past: an evil wizard, whose name he avoided pronouncing, who became more powerful and sought followers to spread chaos and darkness. Harry's parents fell victim to this wizard, but he miraculously survived. Something happened that night that confused that wizard, and since then, no one dared to speak his name.

Harry felt overwhelmed by the revelation and remembered the scar on his forehead. Hagrid tried to cheer him up and explained that he was famous in the magical world for surviving that attack.

The conversation heated up when the Dursleys tried to prevent Harry from going to Hogwarts, but Hagrid confronted them with determination, even trying at magic that ended up turning Dudley into a pig.

Finally, Hagrid gave his coat to Harry and explained that they would go to the town the next day to buy his books and other things. Although Hagrid couldn't do magic legally, he told Harry how he was expelled from Hogwarts but received a special permit to deliver the acceptance letter.

Harry was amazed at everything he had discovered, and although he had doubts about his magical abilities, Hagrid was sure he would be famous at Hogwarts.

Harry woke up early that morning, keeping his eyes closed even though he knew it was already day. Convinced that it had all been a dream, he remembered the encounter with the giant Hagrid and his news about going to a magic school. But upon hearing a tapping on the door, Harry realized he wasn't at home but in the hut in the middle of the sea with Hagrid.

He decided to get up and found Hagrid asleep on the sofa, while an owl tapped the window with a newspaper in its beak. After a brief exchange with Hagrid about paying the owl, Harry observed the strange magical coins and worried about not having money for his school supplies.

Hagrid assured him that his parents had left him something and mentioned that they needed to visit Gringotts, the wizard bank, to get what he needed. Together, they boarded the boat, and Hagrid used his umbrella to propel it with magic. During the journey, Hagrid explained that Gringotts was a secure place guarded by goblins and, according to rumours, dragons.

Harry was surprised by the existence of the Ministry of Magic and asked about its function. Hagrid explained that their main job was to keep the existence of wizards a secret from Muggles. Upon arriving at the station, Hagrid gave Harry the coins to buy the tickets, and they boarded the train to London.

On the train, Hagrid attracted a lot of attention from people and shared his desire to have a dragon. Meanwhile, Harry took out the letter and found a list of the items needed for his entry into the magical school.

Harry unfolded another sheet, which he hadn't seen the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will need:

— Three sets of plain work robes (black).

— One pointed hat (black) for everyday wear.

— One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar).

— One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings).

(All items of clothing must carry name tags.)

BOOKS

All students should have one copy of the following books:

— The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk.

— A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot.

— Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling.

— A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch.

— One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore.

— Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger.

— Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander.

— Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble.

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand.

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2).

1 set of glass or crystal phials.

1 telescope.

1 brass scales.

Students may also bring a cat, an owl, or a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

— "Can we get all these things in London?" —Harry wondered aloud.

— "Of course, as long as you know where to look." —Hagrid responded.

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where they were going, it was clear that he was not used to doing it in the ordinary way. He got stuck in the subway turnstile and complained loudly because the seats were too small, and the trains too slow.

— "I don't know how Muggles manage without magic." —he commented as they climbed a broken escalator that led to a street full of shops.

Hagrid was so bulky that he easily parted the crowd. All Harry had to do was stay behind him. They passed bookstores and music shops, burger joints and cinemas, but nowhere seemed to sell magic wands. It was an ordinary street, full of ordinary people. Were there really loads of wizard gold buried beneath them? Were there really shops selling spell books and broomsticks? Wasn't it just a cruel joke prepared by the Dursleys? If Harry hadn't known that the Dursleys lacked a sense of humour, he might have thought so.

However, even though everything Hagrid had told him was incredible, Harry couldn't help but trust him.

— "Here it is." —Hagrid said, stopping. — "The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place." —

It was a tiny and rather shabby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have seen it. People, hurrying by, didn't even look at it. Their eyes went from the big bookstore on one side to the music shop on the other, as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron. In fact, Harry had the strange feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could say it, Hagrid made him enter.

For a famous place, it was very dark and rundown. Some old ladies were sitting in a corner, sipping sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A small man wearing a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was completely bald and looked like a soft nut. The soft murmur of conversations stopped when they entered. Everyone knew Hagrid. They waved at him and smiled.

— "The usual, Hagrid?" —asked a decrepit-looking person, who turned out to be the bartender.

— "I can't, Tom, I'm here on Hogwarts business." —Hagrid responded, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder, and forcing him to bend his knees.

— "Merlin's beard..." —said the bartender, looking intently at Harry. — "Is this... can it be...?" —

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly become still and silent.

— "Bloody hell!" —whispered the bartender. — "Harry Potter... what an honour." —

He quickly came out from behind the counter, rushed to Harry, and shook his hand, with tears in his eyes.

— "Welcome, Harry, welcome." —

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old lady with the pipe kept sucking, unaware that it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great movement of chairs, and a minute later, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

— "Doris Crockford, Harry. I can't believe I've finally met you." —

— "I'm proud, Harry, very proud." —

— "I always wanted to shake your hand... I'm so pleased." —

— "Delighted, Harry, I can't tell you how much. My name is Diggle, Dedalus Diggle." —

— "I've seen him before!" —said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle dropped his hat due to excitement. — "You greeted me once in a shop." —

— "He remembers!" —shouted Dedalus Diggle, looking at everyone. — "Did you hear that? He remembers me!" —

Harry shook hands over and over again.

A pale young man stepped forward, extremely nervous. He had a tic in his eye.

— "Professor Quirrell!" —said Hagrid. — "Harry, Professor Quirrell will teach you at Hogwarts." —

— "P-P-Potter" —stammered Professor Quirrell, squeezing Harry's hand. — "I-I-I can't tell you h-how pleased I am to m-meet you." —

— "What kind of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" —

— "D-Defence Against the D-Dark Arts." —murmured Professor Quirrell, as if he didn't want to think about it. — "N-not something you need, right, P-Potter?" —He let out a nervous laugh. — "You're gathering the s-supplies, I suppose. I have to find another b-book on v-vampires." —He seemed terrified at the mere mention.

— "Par..." —

— "What was that?" —Harry wondered mentally; he thought he heard something, but he didn't know what or who. Quickly, he forgot about it because the others didn't allow Professor Quirrell to monopolize him.

It took him more than ten minutes to say goodbye to them. At last, Hagrid made himself heard.

— "We must go. There's a lot to buy. Come on, Harry." —

Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led him through the bar to a small, enclosed courtyard where there was nothing but a rubbish bin and weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harry.

— "I told you, didn't I? I told you were famous. Even Professor Quirrell was trembling to meet you, though I'll tell you he usually trembles." —

— "Is he always that nervous?" —Harry asked, feeling it reminded him of something.

— "Oh, yes. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studying those vampire books, but then he took a year off to get firsthand experience... They say he encountered vampires in the Black Forest and had an unpleasant run-in with a witch... And since then, he's not the same. He's scared of students, afraid of his own subject..." —

Vampires? Witches? Harry's head was spinning. Meanwhile, Hagrid was counting bricks on the wall above the rubbish bin.

— "Three up... two across..." —he muttered— "Right. Step back, Harry." —he indicated as he examined his work. He tapped the wall three times with the tip of his umbrella. The brick he had touched moved, twisted, and in the centre, a small hole appeared, which grew larger. In an instant, they were looking at a vaulted passage wide enough even for Hagrid, a passage leading to a cobbled street, winding out of sight.

— "Welcome." —announced Hagrid— "to Diagon Alley." —

He smiled at Harry's astonished look. They entered the passage. Harry quickly looked over his shoulder and saw the wall closing again. The sun shone, illuminating numerous cauldrons in the door of the nearest shop. A sign hung over them with the inscription: "Cauldrons - Various Sizes - Brass, Copper, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible."

— "Yes, you'll need one..." —commented Hagrid— "but let's get the money first." —

Harry wished he had eight more eyes. He moved his head in all directions as they walked up the street, trying to observe everything at once: the shops, their products, and the people shopping. A plump woman shook her head at the door of a drugstore as they passed her, muttering, "Dragon liver at seventeen sickles an ounce, they're crazy...". A soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign that read: "The Owl Emporium. Brown, chestnut, grey, and white." Several boys Harry's age crowded around a shop window full of broomsticks. "Look!" exclaimed one of them—, the new Nimbus 2000, the fastest. Some shops sold clothing; others, telescopes, and strange silver objects that Harry had never seen. Shop windows full of bat organs and eel eyes, shaky piles of spell books, feathers, and rolls of parchment, jars of potions, balloons with moon maps...

—"Gringotts." —said Hagrid.

They reached a building, as white as snow, towering above the small shops. In front of the polished bronze doors, in a crimson and gold uniform, stood a goblin.

—"Yes, that's a goblin." —Hagrid said in a low voice as they climbed the white stone steps. The goblin was a head shorter than Harry. He had a smart, brown face, a pointed beard, and, Harry noticed, exceptionally long fingers and toes. When they entered, he greeted them. Then they found other double doors, this time of silver, with words engraved above them.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay a price in return,

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

— "As you can see, only a madman would try to steal here." —Hagrid commented.

Two goblins let them through the silver doors, and they found themselves in a spacious marble lobby. A hundred goblins sat on tall stools behind a long counter, writing in large ledgers, weighing coins on copper scales, and examining gemstones with magnifying glasses. The exit doors from the lobby were too many to count, and other goblins guided people to enter and exit. Hagrid and Harry approached the counter.

— "Good morning." —Hagrid greeted an unoccupied goblin— "We've come to take some money from Mr. Harry Potter's vault." —

— "Does he have his key, sir?" —the goblin asked rigidly.

— "I have it here." —said Hagrid and began emptying his pockets onto the counter, spreading a handful of dog biscuits on the goblin's ledger. He wrinkled his nose. Harry observed the goblin on the right, weighing rubies as large as bright coals.

— "Here it is." —said Hagrid finally, showing a small golden key.

The goblin examined it closely.

— "It seems to be in order." —

— "And I also have a letter from Professor Dumbledore." —said Hagrid, giving himself importance— "It's about what-you-know, in vault seven hundred and thirteen." —

The goblin read the letter carefully.

— "Very well." —he said, returning it to Hagrid— "I'll have someone accompany you downstairs, to the two vaults. Griphook!" —

Griphook was another goblin. When Hagrid stored all the dog biscuits in his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook to one of the lobby's exit doors.

— "What's what-you-know in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" —Harry asked.

— "I can't tell you..." —Hagrid mysteriously replied— "It's very secret. A Hogwarts matters. Dumbledore entrusted it to me." —

Griphook opened the door. A cloud of green smoke enveloped them. When it cleared, Harry was panting. Inside were piles of gold coins. Piles of silver coins. Mountains of tiny bronze knots.

— "All yours." —Hagrid said smiling.

All Harry's, it was unbelievable. The Dursleys shouldn't know, or they would have taken everything in the blink of an eye. How many times had they complained about how much it cost them to keep Harry? And all that time, a small fortune buried beneath London belonged to him.

Harry began putting an amount into a bag.

— "The gold ones are galleons." —explained Hagrid— "Seventeen silver sickles make a galleon, and twenty-nine knuts equal a sickle, it's very simple. Well, this will be enough for a year or two; we'll leave the rest stored for you." —He turned to Griphook— "Now, please, vault seven hundred and thirteen. And can we go a bit slower?" —

— "One speed only." —Griphook replied. Internally, due to pure adrenaline, Harry was incredibly happy with that answer.

They went down and at a faster speed. The air became colder as they turned through narrow bends. They arrived with jolts on the other side of an underground hollow, and Harry leaned to one side to see what was in the dark bottom, but

Hagrid growled and straightened him, grabbing him by the neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no lock.

— "Step back." —said Griphook, giving himself importance. He touched the door with one of his long fingers, and it disappeared— "If anyone other than a Gringotts goblin tries, they'll be sucked by the door and trapped." —he added.

— "How often do they check that no one is left inside?" —Harry wanted to know.

— "About every ten years." —Griphook said, with a wicked smile.

There had to be something truly extraordinary in that maximum-security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, hoping to see at least fabulous jewels, but the first impression was that it was empty. Then he saw the dirty little package, wrapped in brown paper, on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it into the depths of his coat. Harry would have liked to know its contents, but he knew it was better not to ask.

— "Come on, let's get back on that infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way; you'd better keep your mouth shut." —said Hagrid.

After the fast ride, they emerged blinking in the sunlight, outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to go first with his bag full of money. He didn't need to know how many galleons were in a pound to realize that he had more money than ever, even more than Dudley would ever have.

Together, they visited several magical shops, buying books, potion ingredients, and other items necessary for Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Harry also received his first birthday present: an owl that Hagrid gifted him.

In a shop called Flourish and Blotts, they purchased Harry's books. The shelves were packed to the ceiling, displaying various titles. Some books were magnificent, with leather covers, while others were tiny, with silk bindings. There were volumes with strange symbols, and some with no printed content at all. Even Dudley, who never read, longed to have some of those books. Hagrid practically dragged Harry to leave a book titled "Hexes and Counter-Hexes" by Professor Vindictus Viridian, which promised revenge spells like "Hair Loss," "Butter Legs," "Tied Tongue," and many more.

— "I was trying to figure out how to curse Dudley." —explained Harry.

— "I'm not saying it's not tempting, but you can't use magic in the Muggle world, unless it's under very special circumstances." —Hagrid reminded him. — "Besides, you're not ready for spellwork yet; you need to study a lot more before reaching that level." —

Hagrid also prevented Harry from buying a solid gold cauldron (even though the list said it was pewter), but instead, they bought a nice scale for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible copper telescope. Afterward, they visited the apothecary, despite the unpleasant smell of rotten eggs and cabbage. Barrels with a viscous substance and jars filled with herbs were on the floor. Dried roots and shimmering powders decorated the walls, while bundles of feathers and rows of bat fangs and claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid talked to the man behind the counter about basic potion ingredients, Harry explored the silver unicorn horns, each costing twenty-one Galleons, and the small, shiny beetle eyes, which were five Knuts per spoonful.

When they left the apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.

— "Now, we just need the wand... oh, right, I haven't found you a birthday present yet." —

Harry felt a bit uncomfortable. — "It's not necessary..." —he quickly retorted.

— "I know, it's not necessary. But let me tell you what it will be: I will buy you a pet. No toads, they're outdated, and I don't like cats; they always make me sneeze. I'll get you an owl. Every kid wants to have one. They're very useful for carrying your mail and more." —Hagrid nodded kindly.

Twenty minutes later, they left the owl shop, a dark place full of bright eyes, whispers, and flapping wings. Harry carried a cage with a beautiful white owl, which was half asleep with its head under the wing. Harry thanked him for the gift, stuttering like Professor Quirrell.

— "No need to mention it." —Hagrid responded bluntly. — "I don't think the Dursleys give you many gifts. Now, we only have Ollivanders left, the only place that sells wands, and there you'll find the best." —

The last establishment was narrow and untidy. Above the door, in golden letters, it read: "Ollivander: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.". In the dusty shop window, on a faded purple cushion, a single wand was displayed.

A bell rang as they entered, and they found a small and empty place, except for a long chair where Hagrid sat waiting. Harry felt strange, as if they had entered an extremely silent library. He refrained from asking a bunch of questions that had just occurred to him and instead observed the thousands of narrow boxes, carefully stacked up to the ceiling. Strangely, he felt a slight tingling on his neck, as if dust and silence were conspiring in some kind of secret magic.

— "Good afternoon." —greeted a friendly voice.

Harry jumped. Hagrid seemed startled too, as there was a creaking sound when he stood up hastily from his chair.

An old man stood in front of them; his large, pale eyes gleamed like moons in the shop's dimness.

— "Hello." —Harry responded awkwardly.

— "Ah, yes." —said the man. — "Yes, yes, I expected to see you soon, Harry Potter." —It wasn't a question. — "You have your mother's eyes. It seems like yesterday when she came here to buy her first wand. Twenty-six centimetres' long, flexible, made of willow. A lovely wand for charms." —

Mr. Ollivander approached Harry. The young boy wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were somewhat unsettling.

— "On the other hand, your father preferred a mahogany wand. Twenty-eight centimetres and a half. Flexible. A bit more powerful and excellent for transfigurations. Although, in reality, it is the wand that chooses the wizard." —

Mr. Ollivander was so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see his reflection in those veiled eyes.

— "And here's where..." —Mr. Ollivander touched Harry's shiny scar with a long, white finger— "I regret to say that I sold the wand that did this. Thirty-four centimetres and a quarter. A powerful wand, immensely powerful, and in the wrong hands... If I had known what that wand would do in the world..." —

He shook his head, and then, to Harry's relief, he focused on Hagrid.

— "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! Glad to see you again... Oak, forty centimetres and a half, flexible... Wasn't it?" —

— "That's right, sir." —Hagrid replied.

— "Good wand. But I suppose they snapped it in half when they expelled you." —Mr. Ollivander said suddenly, with a severe tone.

— "Uh, yes, they did, sir, yes." —Hagrid replied, shuffling his feet. — "Though, I still have the pieces." —he added eagerly.

— "But you don't use them, do you?" —he asked sternly.

— "Oh, no, sir." —Hagrid replied quickly. Harry noticed he was holding his pink umbrella tightly.

— "Mmmmm" —Mr. Ollivander said, looking inquisitively at Hagrid. — "Well, now, Mister Potter... Let me see." —He pulled out a silver measuring tape from his pocket. — "Which arm do you use to wield?" —

— "I'm left-handed." —Harry replied.

Suddenly, Harry realized that the measuring tape, which was currently measuring the distance between his nostrils, was doing it on its own. Mr. Ollivander fluttered between the shelves, pulling out boxes. — "Well, now, let's see what we can do." —he said, and the measuring tape wound itself up. — "Alright, Mister Potter, try this one." —holding a wand box. Harry looked curiously at the stacked boxes from the floor to the ceiling, wondering what his wand would look like.

— "Mahogany wood and dragon heartstring. Twenty-three centimetres. Nice and flexible. Grab it and give it a wave." —

The old man nodded to himself and handed him a wand made of mahogany. Harry took it with his left hand and shook it, but nothing happened. The wand remained inert, without emitting a single spark.

— "Interesting..." —Ollivander muttered, frowning. — "It's not common, but it sometimes happens. Let's try another one." —

So, they continued trying various wands, but none of them reacted with Harry. It seemed as if there was a blockage.

— "It's strange, very strange." —murmured Ollivander, thoughtful. — "I hadn't encountered something like this before." —

Harry was starting to feel disheartened. Would he not find his proper wand?

— "Let me try something different." —said Ollivander, with a hopeful look. He handed him a wand made of white willow and unicorn tail hair. — "Try it with your other hand, even if it's not the dominant one." —

Harry obeyed, and the moment he held the wand in his right hand, something magical happened, or something like that, because a shop window suddenly exploded, but a reaction is a reaction.

— "Eh... It worked!" —Harry responded, waving it in the air, but Mr. Ollivander quickly took it from him.

— "Extend your arm, that's right." —Mr. Ollivander measured Harry again from shoulder to fingertip, then from wrist to elbow, from shoulder to floor, from knee to armpit. While measuring, he commented: — "Every Ollivander wand has a central core of a powerful magical substance, Mister Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just like no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are the same. And, of course, you'll never get such good results with another wizard's wand." —

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it in the air, but Mr. Ollivander quickly took it from him.

— "No, not this one. How about this? Ebony and unicorn hair, twenty-one and a half centimetres. Flexible. Come on, give it a try." —

Harry tried, but as soon as he raised his arm, Mr. Ollivander took the wand from him.

— "No, not this one. How about this? Ebony and unicorn hair, twenty-one and a half centimetres. Flexible. Come on, give it a try." —

Harry tried, but as soon as he raised his arm, Mr. Ollivander took the wand from him.

— "No, not this one. Ebony and unicorn hair, twenty-one and a half centimetres. Flexible. Come on, give it a try." —

Harry tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was looking for. The wands already tried, which were on the chair, were increasing by the moment, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander took out, the happier he seemed to be.

— "What a difficult customer, eh?" —he commented. — "Don't worry, we'll find your perfect match around here somewhere. I wonder... yes, why not, an unusual combination: holly and phoenix feather, twenty-eight centimetres, nice and flexible." —

Harry touched the wand. He felt a warm tingling in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it down through the dusty air, and suddenly, a stream of red and gold sparks erupted at the tip, like fireworks, casting patches of light that danced on the walls. Hagrid cheered and applauded, while Mr. Ollivander commented— "Oh, bravo! Oh, yes, oh, exceptionally good. Well, well, well... How curious... Really, how curious... " —

He placed Harry's wand in its box and wrapped it in packing paper, all while continuing to mutter— "Curious... very curious." —

— "Excuse me." —said Harry. — "but what's so curious?" —

Mr. Ollivander stared at him with his pale eyes.

— "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mister Potter. Each one of them. And it turns out that the phoenix feather from which the feather in your wand came from gave rise to another feather, just one more. And it's really curious that you were destined for that wand when it was its sister that gave you that scar." —

Harry swallowed, unable to speak.

— "Yes, twenty-eight centimetres. Uh-huh. Really curious how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we can expect wonderful things from you, Mister Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things... Terrible, yes, but great." —

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure if he liked Mr. Ollivander very much. He paid seven golden Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander escorted them to the door of his shop.

Once Harry Potter left the shop with his new holly and phoenix feather wand, Ollivander was pensive, reflecting on the strange lack of response to magical wands in the young wizard's left hand. He wondered what could have caused this interference and why none of the wands had responded.

The elderly wandmaker approached the window and looked out into Diagon Alley, lost in his thoughts. Wands always had a peculiar way of choosing their owners, and that was one of the most mysterious parts of his trade. Over the years, he had seen wands choose their wizards, sometimes in ways as unexpected as they were mysterious.

In Harry Potter's case, the choice of the holly and phoenix feather wand had been unusual. Although the boy was left-handed, the wand had decided to choose him despite this peculiarity. It was something he hadn't experienced before, leaving him with a sense of intrigue and wonder.

Ollivander wondered if there was any special meaning behind this peculiarity. However, for now, he could only speculate. With an enigmatic smile on his face, Ollivander turned his attention back to his shop.

With his wand in hand and all his purchases made, Harry prepared for the start of his adventure at Hogwarts, feeling excited and eager to discover what the magical world had in store for him.

As dusk fell, with the sun sinking in the sky, Harry and Hagrid set out once again through Diagon Alley. They passed through the wall and returned to the Leaky Cauldron, which was empty this time. During their walk down the street, Harry remained silent, paying no attention to the crowd that watched them with surprise as they carried strange packages, with the owl sleeping on Harry's lap. They ascended the escalator and arrived at Paddington Station. When Harry realized where they were, Hagrid gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder.

— "Before the train departs, we have time for you to grab a bite." —said Hagrid.

He bought a hamburger for Harry, and they sat on plastic chairs. Harry glanced around; everything seemed unfamiliar and strange.

— "Are you alright, Harry? You seem noticeably quiet." —said Hagrid.

Harry wasn't sure how to express himself. He had had the best birthday of his life, and yet, as he chewed on his hamburger, he searched for the right words.

— "Everyone thinks I'm special." —he finally said. — "All those people at the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... But I know nothing about magic. How can they expect so much from me? I'm famous, and I cannot even remember why. I don't know what happened on that night when Vol... Sorry, I mean, the night my parents died." —

Hagrid leaned over the table. Behind his unkempt beard and thick eyebrows, a compassionate smile appeared.

— "Don't worry, Harry. You will learn quickly. We're all beginners when we get to Hogwarts. You'll do fine. I understand it's complicated. You've been away, and that's always tough. But I assure you, you'll enjoy Hogwarts. I had a great time, and, really, I still do." —

Hagrid helped Harry to the train station that would take him back to the Dursleys' house and then handed him an envelope.

— "This is your ticket to Hogwarts." —he said. — "September first, at Kings Cross. All the information is on the ticket. If you have any problems with the Dursleys, just send me a letter with your owl; she'll know how to find me... See you soon, Harry." —

Before the train arrived at the station, Harry wished to see Hagrid until he could no longer spot him. And when he was about to ask him something else, he blinked, and Hagrid was no longer there.

— "But what happened to... to You-Know-Who?" —Harry wondered to himself.

As Harry stood waiting for the train, lost in his thoughts, he asked into the void, —"Do I really have to go back to the Dursleys?" —

~ Extra Life x Divine Life ~

Halloween, 1991.

The Great Hall of Heaven shimmered with celestial light as the Seraphim sang praises. In this majestic place, the Archangels, divine beings of immense power and wisdom, gathered to discuss matters affecting the supernatural world and humanity.

Archangel Michael, leader of the Archangels and protector of planet Earth, stood at the centre of the hall, surrounded by Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, and the other archangels, each representing a sphere of divine influence. Amidst the meeting, while debating the protection of loved ones on Earth, the "Sacred Gear System," a celestial system designed by the Father to oversee and maintain the balance of Sacred Gears, emitted an unusual signal.

A deep red glow emanated from the System, and a voice echoed throughout the celestial hall:

"Incinerate Anthem, High-Level Longinus Class Sacred Gear, not found."

"Incinerate Anthem, High-Level Longinus Class Sacred Gear, not found."

"Incinerate Anthem, High-Level Longinus Class Sacred Gear, not found."

The Great Hall fell silent, and all the archangels looked at each other in astonishment and confusion. It was unprecedented, something that had never happened before.

Michael, with his serene countenance and piercing eyes, was the first to break the silence, asking with a firm voice—"What does this mean? How is it possible for a Sacred Gear to be missing from the system?" —

— "I don't know," —responded Gabriel, shaking his head. — "I've never heard of a Sacred Gear of this calibre disappearing like this before." —

The other archangels also expressed bewilderment, exchanging looks full of uncertainty. Gabriel continued and tried to gather more information— "Could it be an error in the System?" —

Uriel furrowed his brow as he tried to analyse the situation— "It's unlikely to be an error. The Sacred Gear System is infallible and accurate. It may not be working at its full capacity since what happened with the Father, but it wouldn't give out this kind of information due to a simple error. If it's been erased, there must be a reason behind it." —

Raphael expressed his concern— "Could someone has intervened? Has someone manipulated the System?" —

Questions continued to arise as the archangels sought an explanation for what they had witnessed. But the truth remained shrouded in mist, with no clear answers or certainties.

Michael, being the leader, decided— "For now, let's keep this a secret. We don't want to cause panic or provide vital information to the enemies of the church. We will investigate this situation with discretion and prudence. Our duty is to protect humanity at all costs." —

The other archangels nodded in agreement, accepting Michael's wise decision. The mystery behind the disappearance of Incinerate Anthem became a priority for them, and they would work together to uncover what had happened.

Though confused and shocked by what had occurred, the archangels entered a silent pact to unravel the enigma.

The Great Hall of Heaven descended into solemn silence as the Archangels were lost in their thoughts, reflecting on what they had just witnessed. The disappearance of Incinerate Anthem was not only an unprecedented event but also raised a series of unsettling questions that echoed in their divine minds.

Michael, the leader of the Archangels, felt the weight of duty on his shoulders. His piercing gaze scrutinized the list of Sacred Gears, seeking answers where it seemed there were none. — "How is it possible for such a powerful Sacred Gear to vanish without a trace?" —he silently wondered.

Amidst the mystery, Gabriel spoke with a soft and melodious voice— "Brothers, this event poses a transcendent dilemma for us. What force so powerful could have erased from existence a Sacred Gear of such calibre?" —

Raphael approached Michael and shared his concern— "I can't help but feel that this is not a mere coincidence but rather a warning. What danger could Incinerate Anthem pose for its presence to be eliminated in this manner?" —

Uriel solemnly nodded— "I agree, Raphael. Something sinister is happening. It's as if an unknown force is trying to conceal the existence of this Sacred Gear and its bearer, as if it wants to prevent its power from falling into the wrong hands." —

The Celestial System now was a silent and powerless witness to this enigma. The "Sacred Gear System," part of the same system, remained unchanged, withholding further information about what had occurred. Every attempt to get answers only led to more unresolved questions.

Michael's heart filled with determination. As the leader of heaven, he knew he had to uncover the truth behind the disappearance of Incinerate Anthem, no matter the challenges that lay ahead. — "We will investigate every lead, every trace of magic we can find. We won't rest until we find the truth." —he proclaimed firmly.

The following days were filled with intense activity in Heaven. The Archangels traced celestial records and events related to Incinerate Anthem, but every lead seemed to vanish like smoke in the wind. The magnitude of the mystery deepened, and unease grew in the hearts of those beings.

Drama and mystery escalated with each passing day. The shadow of the unknown loomed over the Archangels, and the urgency to find answers grew stronger. The disappearance of Incinerate Anthem not only raised questions about the Sacred Gear itself but also about the fate of the supernatural world and the safety of humanity.

Michael found himself at a crossroads, unsure if he faced an invisible threat or a random occurrence. Despite the Archangels' tireless efforts, the mystery persisted, and uncertainty threatened to undermine the trust they had always placed in the Celestial System.

The Archangels, in their quest for the truth, faced moral dilemmas and questioned their own understanding of the supernatural world. What force so powerful could have left them in the dark? And what other unsettling truths remained hidden?

Amidst tension and drama, the Archangels couldn't help but wonder if the disappearance of Incinerate Anthem was only the beginning of a greater threat looming. A dark omen hung over them, and only together could they face the unknown.

The Archangels, accustomed to maintaining harmony and balance between the supernatural realms, now confronted an unprecedented enigma. With no clues or explanations, the disappearance of that Sacred Gear was a mystery shrouded in the fog of the unknown. They knew it was a colossal loss for the Heaven faction, as the passing years demonstrated.

However, as time passed, an inexplicable feeling began to take shape in Michael's heart. As if the wind whispered unfathomable secrets, a vague idea emerged in his mind, but it always eluded him.

Although Michael couldn't fully understand what had happened to this day, he felt that there was something more behind the disappearance of Incinerate Anthem. A power beyond human and celestial comprehension, something that transcended mystical laws and delved into the very essence of existence.

As this intuition grew, a question arose in Michael's mind, keeping him awake at night. Could humanity have been the cause of this mysterious disappearance? Few forces could achieve such a feat without encroaching into divinity.

Therefore, this slight underestimation allowed the secret of what happened with Incinerate Anthem to remain in the shadows, without the Archangels uncovering it. The "Sacred Gear System" concealed this elusive truth, allowing Lily Potter's story and her sacrifice for her son, Harry, to remain in the dark.

And so, while the Archangels continued their work, the enigma was buried in forgetfulness, with no one suspecting the powerful love that had triggered its disappearance. In the vastness of the universe, the truth faded over time, becoming a mystery lost in the annals of time.

But, in the background of this intriguing mystery, an even more extraordinary truth remained hidden. An act of selfless and pure love had been the true protagonist behind the veil of secrecy. Lily Potter, a loving and brave mother, had given every particle of her soul to protect her son, Harry.

However, the heavens had not paid due attention to the magical world. The Archangels, engrossed in their celestial affairs, had overlooked this exceptional possibility, unable to conceive that the power of human love could have been the force behind the disappearance of Incinerate Anthem.

The powerful Sacred Gear had recognized its bearer's ultimate sacrifice and, in an act of reciprocation to Lily's last wish, had decided to manifest fully to save her son, Harry. And so, in the ignorance of celestial beings, the truth remained hidden, like a precious jewel buried at the bottom of the ocean. Incinerate Anthem had been more than a powerful tool; it had become a reflection of a mother's unconditional love, a force that defied all odds and barriers.

The time had passed, and Azazel, the former leader of the fallen angels and Grigori, was in his study, lost in thought as he analysed the unprecedented information that had come into his hands. Ten years ago, Incinerate Anthem, a powerful High-Level Longinus, had been completely erased from the "Sacred Gear System" registry. Such news had left him astonished and bewildered, as he had never witnessed the total disappearance of a Sacred Gear of such magnitude.

The raven-haired man was surprised at how the Archangels themselves were so adept at keeping such information secret for so long. Although he understood his brothers' reasons, information of such calibre would be dangerous if it came to light.

Still, his siblings were unaware of the many securities flaws present. He himself, even having fallen so many millennia ago, had found a way to access the heavens. Should he tell them? No, his little siblings could figure it out on their own.

In his mind, theories and hypotheses intertwined, but he had nothing concrete to work with. He only had the certainty that this disappearance could not be ignored or overlooked. Azazel was a cunning and insightful being, and he knew he had to keep investigating until he found some clue that would allow him to unravel this mystery.

Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, a familiar voice interrupted him. Vali, his young, adopted son and bearer of the powerful Sacred Gear Divine Dividing, had returned from training with Barakiel, one of the most powerful fallen angels and Vali's mentor.

Vali entered the study with energy and a mischievous smile on his face. At only 12 years old, he already showed great mastery of his magical abilities and an unwavering determination to become a powerful warrior.

— "Old man!" —exclaimed Vali— "I'm bored! Why don't we have a sparring match?" —

Azazel chuckled at Vali's proposal. The young demon was always eager to evaluate his strength and improve his skills.

— "You know what? All Right. It'll be a good stretch for both of us." —responded Azazel with a mischievous smile as he set aside his glass of whisky.

Both went outside, and in the blink of an eye, the training field transformed into a stage of magical flashes and powerful attacks.

Father and son spent the entire afternoon fighting. Azazel was profoundly grateful for Vali; his life had become less monotonous since he adopted him so long ago, although... His adopted son was really a fighting maniac.