Sunlight streams through the windows the next morning. At first, Harry thinks Hagrid had been a dream, but then he sees a huge lump sleeping outside.
What is he still doing here?! Harry's not leaving Logan to go to a magic school. He'd slashed the letter right in front of Hagrid to prove it.
At least with Hagrid still here, there aren't any new letters stuffed into their home. But the letters were easier to get rid of.
Is Hagrid planning on staying around like a pet? Logan wouldn't allow that. A wolf and a lion would be too big to live with them, and Hagrid's gigantic. He can't fit in their truck, but maybe as a wild man he wants to live outside anyway.
Harry creeps out of his home and whacks Hagrid with his toy wolverine until he wakes up.
"Was going to take yeh shopping today in London." Hagrid tells him, which sounds much better than going to school.
"London," Logan snorts from behind them. "There's an ocean in the way. How'd ya get here?"
"Flew." Hagrid nods at their motorbike. "I took yeh on a flying bike when you were a baby. Got it from yer dad's friend-"
Hagrid stops talking, suddenly furious, but he doesn't smack Harry, even though his hands are big enough to send Harry flying.
Harry laughs. Logan doesn't have friends, until he realizes Hagrid was talking about the dad Harry doesn't remember.
Hagrid tells Harry he looks just like his dad, and Harry doesn't know which one. He has dog tags and clothes just like Logan's.
"Harry made my bike fly." Logan grunts, lighting up a cigar.
Harry closes his eyes, remembering sailing over the elk with Logan and stopping the crash. He hadn't stopped the crash that killed his parents, but there hadn't been one. Hagrid said they were killed by a bad wizard, and he couldn't kill Harry for some reason. Which means Harry's like Logan.
The story last night had made his scar burn, and he'd seen green brighter than the most hideous hotel wallpaper.
Harry shakes his head, hoping it won't burn again, and climbs onto the motorbike. If he can make it fly, they can fly to London to go shopping.
"There ain't any use buying supplies when yer not goin'." Logan tells him.
"There's other things ta buy." Hagrid says, then mutters that he can't believe Harry Potter isn't going to Hogwarts.
"We best be off." Hagrid says. "I've got important business ter attend to. Dumbledore trusts me to do important things fer him. Fetchin' you, getting things from Gringott's. That's the wizard bank."
Harry doesn't want to be fetched. He's not a ball. He climbs off the bike and rushes into their home.
Hagrid seems to sag a bit before finally turning to trudge through the trees.
"That ain't the last of him," Logan mutters, but it feels like it is. They don't receive any letters as they drive to a new town. Everything's back to normal, as it should be, as if the letters and Hagrid really had just been an elaborate dream.
Harry's glad to be picking up their usual supplies the following day, not weird wizard school supplies.
A grey tabby cat sits stiffly, watching as Harry helps Logan fill up their truck at the petrol station. It stays as they fill up spare cannisters.
The tabby watches as they pick out beef jerky, which Harry tears into before they reach the register. It follows as they get jeans, not strange robes.
No matter where they go, the cat is there, just like how the letters showed up every morning.
Mrs. Figg's cats never followed Harry this much. Logan was right, they aren't being left alone. Harry starts to growl, scratching stripes across his face like whiskers.
"I know the cat ain't right," Logan grumbles near Harry's ear, and he's never said that about Harry. "Smells off."
The cat suddenly disappears, and a severe woman stands in its place. She has a tight bun and glasses that look like the shapes around the cat's eyes.
"Stop that, Mr. Potter," she demands. "Throwing a tantrum at your age."
It's not one of the tantrums Dudley always had. The comparison makes Harry madder; they won't leave him alone and then they say stuff like that?! He stops clawing his face but howls at her.
"What did those awful people do to you? I'm glad you're not with them anymore, but I'd expect that you'd-"
"Harry ain't what ya were expectin'?" Logan cuts her off. Everyone seems disappointed in him except Logan. "They kept him locked in a cupboard."
"Is that why he hasn't said a word?"
Logan shrugs. "His brain ain't made fer talkin'. Mine ain't either, so scram and stop spyin' on us. We already told the giant he's not goin' to yer school."
"I knew Harry couldn't live there." the lady shakes her head, her lips thinning. She gazes at Harry, then turns back into a cat and slinks away.
For a few days, there are no cats or letters or giants, until Hagrid appears once again. "Haven't gotten yer present yet." he says. "I wanted ter take yeh myself."
Harry shrieks at him. How many times does he have to say no?
There's a sudden burst of flame, but none of the trees are burning. A fiery bird appears out of nowhere, beating its red wings. An old man pops in with the bird, holding its tail feathers. The man doesn't look wild at all. He has a long, purple cloak, the longest silver hair and beard Harry's ever seen. His nose looks like it's been broken, so Harry doubts he heals like Logan.
Wondering if Hagrid flew with a giant bird, Harry flaps his hands. The bird flies to perch atop their home.
"Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid sounds relieved, like this guy will fix everything.
"Good morning, Hagrid." Dumbledore's eyes twinkle behind fragile-looking glasses, and Harry avoids them immediately. "Good morning, Harry."
It's not a good morning, and it gets worse when Dumbledore says "You're a long way from your aunt and uncle."
Harry stiffens. Logan said he's never going back there. He grips Logan's wrist and closes his eyes, shaking his head. He wants Dumbledore and Hagrid to leave him alone, and he and Logan can go back to riding around in peace.
"Long time, too." Logan drawls around his cigar. "He's been with me fer years, and ya haven't noticed?"
"Arabella did report she hadn't seen you." Dumbledore muses.
"'Course not." Logan's voice is a rumbling growl now. "They kept him locked in a cupboard."
Harry hums, hating to be reminded of where he was before, but he still can't quite drown them out.
"It wasn't ideal." Dumbledore is saying, "Minerva did say they were the worst sort, far worse than I anticipated, I fear. She's given me a thorough rebuke for placing Harry with them, but it was necessary to protect him from Voldemort."
"We ain't had any trouble from wizards 'til yer letters and you lot showed up." Logan growls, and the telltale snikt of his claws sliding out is a welcome sound. "And if anyone comes knockin', I can handle 'em. Already told Hagrid I'd take care o' yer Dark Lord."
Harry reaches up, snatches the glasses from Dumbledore's crooked nose and smashes them on a rock.
Dumbledore pulls out a stick and waves it. The glasses are whole again, as if Harry had never smashed them.
Harry smashes them again, and Dumbledore waves his stick to fix them again. And again. And again.
"You'll learn how to break things at Hogwarts. And fix them." Dumbledore waves his wand again. The glasses float back to his face and turn into sunglasses that hide his intense gaze. "You'll make things fly, or change into other things."
Harry's done a lot of that already on his adventures with Logan.
Why couldn't they have left him with Logan when his parents were killed? Harry presses his toy Wolverine into Logan's arms. Harry could've been a baby wolverine, and lived with Logan his whole life. He never would've had the Dursleys saying he was a freak, a worthless burden and a waste of space.
Logan doesn't cradle the toy, instead handing it back to Harry. Harry frowns. He's never seen Logan coo over a pram like so many other grownups. Would Logan have taken him when he was a baby?
"Harry," Dumbledore says. Harry doesn't respond, even when Dumbledore calls his name several more times. He's too busy wondering if Logan would have rejected him back then.
Hagrid whispers, not very quietly, that something's wrong with Harry's head.
"I have a colleague, a friend, whose expertise in the mind surpasses my humble understanding." Dumbledore says. "Professor Charles Xavier will be able to help you. Both of you."
Harry's avoiding Dumbledore's eyes and he can still tell they're not twinkling as much now. Dumbledore doesn't seem as happy to see him now that they've met, like almost everyone else.
Logan's the only person who isn't disappointed in him or ashamed.
"We don't need a shrink." Logan snarls, and Dumbledore smiles like he's used to grumpy, scowling people. He stays a lot calmer than Logan.
"You need help. Doctor Xavier will be able to help you find some answers."
"We ain't interested in seein' any doctor." Logan still has his claws out, but he hasn't swung them or stabbed anyone. Harry hopes he'll hack Dumbledore's hair and beard.
"He'd happily welcome you into his home."
Harry glances at their home. The fiery bird is still there, and Dumbledore calls it a fox. He must be dumb like his name to not know the difference.
Harry wishes he could voice that thought, just to see Dumbledore's face. He knows what befuddled looks like; Dudley had that expression a lot.
Harry flaps faster, to calm down and say it's a bird. The bird flaps with him, flying over to perch on Harry's shoulder. Harry shouts at the clawed talons digging into his shoulder, suddenly reminded of Aunt Petunia's bony hands snatching him.
The bird flies above him but starts crying, and a few tears land on Harry's head when he cranes his head back to howl.
Harry shakes himself to get the tears off.
Dumbledore calls Harry's name again as if he'll suddenly respond like other kids. Harry flaps at the bird until it swoops to perch on Dumbledore's shoulder. Dumbledore calls it a fox again.
"Yer plannin' something." Logan growls at Dumbledore. "Leave us out of it. No point hangin' around now, so get outta here."
Harry tries to give Hagrid a shove, but he doesn't even budge,
"I still want ter get yeh a birthday present." Hagrid says.
Harry bares his teeth.
"Perhaps I can interest you in a parting drink?" Dumbledore offers.
"Now yer speakin' my language." Logan grins.
Harry starts to climb onto the motorbike, but Dumbledore says his fox bird will take them.
Dumbledore waves his wand, shrinking their truck and motorbike until they're no bigger than Harry's toys. Harry never managed to do that, but he clings to their home tightly, peering into the tiny windows. Their beds and the cooker and all his toys are tiny, too.
"I'll fix them," Dumbledore promises. Harry bares his teeth. He'd better.
They have to grab onto Fawkes' tail, all crowded together. Harry hates it. There's a flash of fire, and the forest disappears. Instead, they're outside a pub on a street full of hamburger restaurants and cinemas.
Harry looks at his hands, relieved he's still holding their shrunken vehicles. If they'd left them behind, he probably would have broken down again, and he's grateful Dumbledore made it so he could bring them.
He still doesn't want to go to Hogwarts, but he wants to learn to make them shrink and grow, so he can shrink their home and they can carry it while riding around on the motorbike. And he wants to learn to make the motorbike fly all the time.
He can learn that without Hogwarts, right? He's learned how to make a fire and fight with Logan, and he hasn't been to school in years.
The inside of the pub is smoky and grubby, like most of the ones Harry and Logan have visited and fought in over the years. Knowing that Aunt Petunia would have hated the pubs makes Harry love them more.
This pub doesn't have a billiards table, but it quiets down when they arrive, and Harry finds himself liking it enoromously.
He gazes around, wondering who they're going to fight. The old lady smoking a pipe that's far bigger than Logan's cigars? A tiny guy in a top hat at the bar? The toothless old man making drinks? Maybe everyone.
Everyone calls out Hagrid's name, and Harry wonders whose side Hagrid will join.
"The usual, Hagrid?" asks the old, toothless man behind the bar.
"The usual, Tom. And more for my friend." Hagrid nods down at Logan, then asks "What'll yeh have, Harry?"
"Bless my soul," Tom gasps. "It's Harry Potter."
Tom surges from behind the bar, gripping Harry's hand so he can't even grab his pocket knives. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Welcome back."
All the chairs scrape, and suddenly everyone is trying to shake his hand. Harry manages to pull his knife out of his pocket, but can't even flip it open before someone else grabs his hand and pumps enthusiastically. There's a mess of words around him, Doris and Diggle and it doesn't make any sense. Harry yanks his hands away and clamps them over his ears.
Over Harry's shouts, he hears Logan say "Stop crowdin' him."
The crowd disperses a bit, but a pale man in a purple turban comes up. Dumbledore and Hagrid greet him as Professor Quirrell. He seems to have trouble speaking, not as much as Harry, but he stutters over his words. "P-P-Potter, c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
Harry can tell Logan isn't pleased. He's scowling, sniffing the air, and then growls "You smell toxic."
Logan's claws pop out, and he slices the turban off Quirrell's head. Several people scream.
There's another face on the back of Quirrell's face, with skin so pale it's almost white. It has horrible red eyes and no nose, and everyone in the pub shouts. Harry hears "You-Know-Who!" and "Get him!"
Several people pull out their wands, but Logan has already plunged his claws through Quirrell's face. The tips poke out eyes of the hideous snake face, as blood splatters, and Quirrell's body goes limp.
Harry rushes forward to join the fight, and Quirrell's body burns and peels under his hands. Wow. He doesn't even need claws.
Logan pulls his claws out of the limp body, which crumples to the floor. The evil face disappears as the body turns to dust.
Logan turns to Dumbledore like nothing's happened. "I believe ya offered ta buy me a drink?"