Chapter 2

27th of July, 1991
Privet Drive

Harry Potter shuffled down Privet Drive, the gravel crunching beneath his worn sneakers. He was finally outside, a rare reprieve from the stifling confines of Number Four. It was his first time outside since those peculiar letters started flooding the house, letters addressed to him on parchment with his name elegantly written in emerald ink. Each letter sent the Dursleys into a spiraling rage. Uncle Vernon's face turned a shade of purple that could rival Aunt Petunia's prized petunias, while Dudley, well, he just stared with his piggy eyes wide in incomprehension. Harry wasn't sure what frightened him more: the letters themselves or the Dursleys' uncharacteristic apprehension.

Today, Aunt Petunia had sent him on an errand. All the biscuits had 'mysteriously' vanished—likely eaten by Dudley, though no one dared to point that out. The little supermarket was a short walk away, a journey Harry relished, savoring the rare taste of freedom. His mind wandered back to the letters. Who could be sending them? And why him?

As Harry rounded the corner, the supermarket came into view. Just beyond its glass doors, his eyes caught sight of an odd figure. He felt a jolt of recognition. He'd seen people like this before, strange people, oddly dressed, who sometimes smiled at him or even tried to shake his hand. The man stood out like a sore thumb against the mundane backdrop of Little Whinging. He was garbed in a deep purple suit that shimmered in the sunlight, as if made of the night sky itself. A cane topped with a golden phoenix's head completed the ensemble. To top it all off, the man sported a pair of fake mustaches on his already bearded face, making him look like he'd escaped from a particularly eccentric circus. Or an asylum.

Probably an asylum.

The man noticed Harry's gaze and smiled, a wide, almost conspiratorial grin. He approached Harry with an air of confident absurdity. "Don't worry, I'm not a pedo," he announced, waving a hand dismissively.

"Huh," Harry managed, his brain struggling to process the scene before him.

The man's eyes twinkled behind half-moon spectacles. "Yes, well, perhaps not the best approach," he admitted. He cleared his throat, straightening his already impeccably straight tie. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Euphemius Ignatius Bartholomew Theodosius Ulysses Barnabas Cuthbert Dumbledore, O.M. (First Class), Grand Sorc., D. Wiz., X.J. (sorc.), S. of Mag.Q., and so on."

"Huh," Harry repeated, feeling as if the world had shifted slightly off-kilter.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a nod, his smile never faltering. "I understand this may be a lot to take in. Let's start with something simpler. How about a lemon drop?" He produced a tin from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal the bright yellow sweets.

Harry hesitated. Aunt Petunia had drilled one lesson into him that even Dudley found hard to grasp: never take candy from strangers. He shook his head, stepping back slightly.

The man's smile widened. "But I am not a stranger. I am Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Euphemius Ignatius Bartholomew Theodosius Ulysses Barnabas Cuthbert Dumbledore, O.M. (First Class), Grand Sorc., D. Wiz., X.J. (sorc.), S. of Mag.Q., and so on."

Harry didn't know what to say. His head spun with the impossibly long string of names. He reached out, almost in a daze, and took the lemon drop. He popped it into his mouth and instantly regretted it. The candy tasted stale and sour, like it had been sitting in a dusty attic for years. He fought the urge to spit it out but managed to swallow.

"Ugh," he muttered under his breath. "That was disgusting."

Before he could react further, the strange old man placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. The world around him blurred and twisted, and suddenly, they were in a park. Harry's stomach churned violently from the unexpected teleportation, and he doubled over, vomiting onto the grass.

Dumbledore patted his back sympathetically, but his words were lost in Harry's retching.

"...Voldemort...diadem...scar...socks..."

Harry finally straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He turned to Dumbledore, who was still rambling on, and managed to choke out, "What..."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and seriousness. He took a deep breath, preparing for a speech that he had probably rehearsed countless times. "Harry, you are a wizard. There is a whole world out there that you belong to, a world of magic and wonder. You have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where you will learn to harness your magical abilities. Also, you have a great destiny ahead of you. You are, after all, famous for something quite extraordinary, even if you don't remember it."

Harry blinked, trying to process the flood of information. "I'm a what?"

"A wizard, Harry. A most extraordinary one, I might add," Dumbledore said, his tone growing even more serious. "You see, when you were just a baby, a dark wizard named Voldemort tried to kill you. He left you with that scar on your forehead as a result of his curse. You survived, and in doing so, you brought about his downfall. You are quite famous in the wizarding world."

Harry felt like the ground was shifting beneath him. His entire life had been turned upside down in a matter of minutes. "So...I'm supposed to go to this school? And...learn magic?"

"Precisely!" Dumbledore clapped his hands together, looking delighted. "And now," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "we're going to traumatize your aunt!"

"Huh?" Harry hadn't understood anything, but it was definitely a program he could get behind. Wait... shouldn't he panic?

The man smiled, almost reading Harry's thoughts. "Of course, I've drugged you with Lemon Candy, so you find it normal!"

"Huh ? You drugged me?", he said, shocked.

"No, no, of course not ! Who do you take me for ? Fudge ? Phouah! It's just sugar. And you're a kid - ergo, you like sugar. Ergo, you're happy", Dumbledore reassured him.

"Ah, okay," said Harry, nodding as if this made perfect sense. He did not understand the fuck was happening. He was a wizard ? He was famous ? He followed the strange man back towards Privet Drive, his mind a whirl of confusion and unexpected calm.

As they walked, Dumbledore hummed a jaunty tune, his cane tapping rhythmically against the pavement. The journey back to Number Four felt surreal, like walking through a dream. Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who seemed perfectly at ease, his eccentric attire fluttering slightly in the breeze.

They arrived at Privet Drive, and Dumbledore paused at the gate, looking up at the house with an expression of mild amusement. "Ah, here we are. Ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded, though he wasn't sure what he was ready for. Dumbledore led the way up the garden path and knocked on the door with the tip of his cane.

Aunt Petunia opened the door, her face pinched with suspicion. Her eyes widened when she saw Dumbledore. "Who...who are you? You…are one of the freaks!" she stammered, clearly taken aback by his outlandish appearance.

"Good afternoon!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "No, I'm not freak ! Freak was my cousin. I am Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Euphemius Ignatius Bartholomew Theodosius Ulysses Barnabas Cuthbert Dumbledore, O.M. (First Class), Grand Sorc., D. Wiz., X.J. (sorc.), S. of Mag.Q., and so on. And you must be Petunia Dursley, aka the neglecting Bitch"

Petunia gasped. Harry gasped. The neighbor gasped.

Harry had the feeling he would like the strange old man. He would like him a lot.

Petunia tried to slam the door on his face, but it did not bulge. Dumbledore smiled. Harry Potter smiled. Petunia did not smile. The neighbor just said "Woooo…Bitch…Hehe…He said the B-word…". It was a very old and very stupid neighbor, so it did not really matter.

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