Chapter 7

I own nothing. All characters, and places belong to their respective franchises and companies.

The training arena within Bowser's castle was alive with the sound of clashing shells and the occasional spark of magic. Harry darted across the worn stone floor, his breath coming in quick bursts as he dodged a spinning shell hurled by Bowser Jr. The younger Koopa stood at the other end of the arena, grinning mischievously as he prepared his next move.

"Come on, Harry!" Bowser Jr. shouted, his clawed feet scraping against the ground as he grabbed another shell from a nearby pile. "You're gonna have to do better than that!"

Harry skidded to a stop near one of the power-up blocks scattered around the arena. He wiped sweat from his brow and grinned back, his green eyes gleaming with determination. "Just you wait, Junior! I've got something for you."

He jumped up, his hand slamming into the block above him. With a cheerful ding, a Fire Flower popped out, spinning gently in midair. Harry caught it and immediately felt the familiar warmth surge through his body. His tunic shifted, taking on a bright orange hue, and his hands crackled with fiery energy.

"Oh, great," Bowser Jr. groaned, hefting the shell in his claws. "Not the fireballs again."

Harry smirked, raising one hand and launching a ball of flame that zipped through the air toward his opponent. Bowser Jr. leapt to the side, the shell clattering to the ground as the fireball narrowly missed him.

"Too slow, Harry!" Jr. taunted, but his grin faltered as Harry launched a second fireball, this time bouncing it off the ground. The flame ricocheted unpredictably, forcing Jr. to retreat.

Harry laughed, the adrenaline of the fight spurring him on. "Who's slow now?" he called, spinning to hurl another fireball.

Bowser Jr. wasn't one to be outdone, though. He grabbed a green shell and flung it with all his might. The shell careened toward Harry, who barely managed to jump over it. The shell struck the wall and rebounded, heading back toward him with alarming speed.

Thinking fast, Harry dove to the side, landing near another power-up block. He slammed it with his fist as he rolled to his feet. This time, a Super Leaf floated down. Grinning, Harry grabbed it, and immediately, his back sprouted a pair of fluffy tanuki ears and a tail.

"Ha! Try catching me now!" he said, leaping into the air with a burst of agility the leaf granted him.

Bowser Jr. groaned dramatically, waving his arms. "No fair! I don't have any flying power-ups right now!"

Harry flipped through the air, using the tail to glide effortlessly over the arena. He rained down small, spinning tail attacks, forcing Jr. to keep moving as the younger Koopa scrambled to grab another shell.

The back-and-forth battle continued, both boys laughing and taunting each other as they pushed their limits. Harry's movements were fluid and strategic, combining the power-ups with his natural agility and quick thinking to make up for his lack of brute strength compared to his opponent. Every dive, flip, and fireball showcased how far he had come under Bowser's tutelage.

The sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps suddenly echoed through the chamber, cutting through their laughter and breaking their focus. Both boys froze, turning toward the massive doorway where Bowser now stood. His enormous frame filled the entrance, his fiery orange hair blazing like a mane as his crimson eyes took in the scene before him.

"Dad!" Bowser Jr. called, his grin widening. "You've gotta see this! Harry's finally getting the hang of using power-ups in combat!"

Harry landed lightly on the ground, brushing a few strands of messy black hair out of his face. His green eyes darted nervously to Bowser, trying to gauge the king's mood. Bowser's expression was unreadable, but his gaze lingered on Harry for a moment longer than usual.

"You've been busy," Bowser rumbled, his voice low but carrying a note of approval. "Good. But training's over for now."

"What?" Jr. whined, dropping the shell he'd been about to throw. "But I was winning!"

"You weren't even close," Harry teased, his confidence slipping back in for a moment.

Bowser's lip twitched into a faint smirk before his expression hardened again. "Harry, come with me. There's someone here to see you."

Harry blinked, his head tilting slightly. "Someone? Who?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Bowser said, his tone brooking no argument. He gestured toward the door with one massive claw. "Now."

Harry glanced at Bowser Jr., who shrugged, clearly just as confused. Dropping his power-up items to the ground, Harry jogged over to Bowser, his tanuki ears and tail fading as the power-up wore off. He hesitated for a moment before falling into step beside the king.

As they walked toward the throne room, Harry couldn't help but feel a knot of apprehension forming in his stomach. Whoever this visitor was, they had to be important for Bowser to interrupt training—and for the king's mood to be so serious.

"Dad?" Harry asked hesitantly, looking up at Bowser's towering form. "Is something wrong?"

Bowser didn't answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but firm. "Not yet. But we'll see."

The knot in Harry's stomach tightened as they approached the towering doors of the throne room. Whatever was waiting on the other side, he had a feeling it was going to change everything.

As they walked through the winding halls of Bowser's castle, the oppressive silence between Harry and Bowser was only broken by the distant sound of bubbling lava and the occasional clink of armor from passing guards. Harry couldn't help but glance up at his adoptive father's stern expression, trying to read the emotions flickering behind those fiery crimson eyes.

"Dad?" Harry tried again, his voice tentative. "What's going on? Who's here?"

Bowser let out a low rumble, his claws curling slightly as he flexed his hands. "Someone from your past," he said curtly, his voice gruff but not unkind. "You've got questions. So do they."

Harry's brow furrowed as he tried to piece together the vague response. "My past? What does that mean?"

"It means you'll get answers soon enough," Bowser growled, though there was no anger in his tone. "But listen to me, Harry. You don't owe this stranger anything. Not their questions, not their expectations—nothing. If you don't want to talk, you don't have to."

The knot in Harry's stomach tightened further. Bowser's protective tone usually comforted him, but this time, it only made his nerves worse. Whoever this person was, they clearly knew something important—something about the life Harry had lived before he found himself in the Koopa Kingdom.

"But why now?" Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought that life didn't matter anymore."

Bowser stopped suddenly, turning to face Harry with an intensity that made the boy take an involuntary step back. "It matters because it's part of who you are," Bowser said, his deep voice quieter now but no less firm. "And because you deserve the choice to decide what to do with it. Nobody gets to take that away from you—not me, and definitely not them."

Harry swallowed hard, nodding slowly. Bowser's words were grounding in a way, even if they didn't fully explain what was happening. Whatever this was about, his father was giving him control, and that meant something.

"Okay," Harry said finally, his voice steadier. "I'll hear them out. But only because you said so."

Bowser's lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile, a rare softness that Harry knew was reserved just for him. "Good. Just remember—you're not alone in this."

They resumed walking, the massive doors of the throne room looming larger as they approached. The guards stationed on either side of the entrance stiffened at Bowser's arrival, saluting crisply before pushing the heavy doors open with a groan of effort.

The scene that greeted them was almost comical in its contrast to Harry's tense mood. Kamek was hovering near the center of the room, gesturing wildly with his wand as he spoke to a tall, elderly man in robes of rich blue and silver. The stranger had a long, flowing white beard, a pointed hat, and half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. He seemed entirely unbothered by Kamek's animated display, nodding politely as though he were enjoying a lively lecture.

"And another thing!" Kamek exclaimed, jabbing the air with his wand. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been trying to figure out human magic? Your little wizard boy keeps blowing up my test crystals without even trying, and I've been working with magic for decades! Decades!"

Harry blinked, his nerves momentarily giving way to confusion as he took in the sight. "Uh... Dad? Who's the old guy?"

Bowser's fiery gaze flicked to the throne room's occupants, his expression darkening slightly. "That," he said gruffly, "is what you're about to find out."

Harry's stomach churned as his eyes met the stranger's for the first time. The man's piercing blue gaze seemed to carry both warmth and gravity, and for reasons Harry couldn't explain, it sent a shiver down his spine.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay steady as they stepped into the room. Whatever this was, he'd face it head-on. After all, that's what Bowser had taught him to do.

And just as they walked in, the old man turned towards them. His eyes widened when they landed on him.

Dumbledore's gaze shifted from Kamek, whose animated gestures and rapid-fire explanations had momentarily captivated him, to the towering double doors of the throne room as they began to creak open. The heavy thrum of approaching footsteps echoed through the chamber, heralding the arrival of the one he had traveled so far to see.

When Harry stepped through the doorway, Dumbledore's breath caught for the briefest of moments.

The boy—though it was hard to think of him as merely a boy—stood with a quiet confidence that seemed to fill the room. His wiry frame, lean from years of physical training, was clad in a green tunic accented with sturdy, well-worn leather. A pair of spiked wristbands, almost identical to the ones Bowser himself wore, adorned his forearms, their polished metal glinting faintly in the fiery light of the throne room. They looked more like a badge of honor than an accessory, a mark of the life he had built in this strange and extraordinary place.

But it was Harry's face that struck Dumbledore the hardest. The mop of wild black hair, perpetually untamed and sticking out at odd angles, was undeniably James Potter's. The sharp line of his jaw and the shape of his green eyes, brilliant even in the dim light, were unmistakably Lily's. The lightning-bolt scar on his forehead was faint now, almost hidden by his hair, but its presence was enough to remind Dumbledore of the prophecy and the heavy weight Harry had been destined to carry.

And yet, there was something else about him—something wholly his own. The way Harry moved, his steps deliberate and sure, spoke of a life that had shaped him far beyond what Dumbledore could have imagined. This was no timid boy cowering under the weight of neglect; this was a young man who had been forged by fire, both figuratively and, judging by the castle's molten surroundings, quite literally.

Dumbledore allowed himself a small, bittersweet smile. You are your parents' son, Harry, he thought. And yet, you are something entirely new. Something I never could have foreseen.

Harry's green eyes flicked between Dumbledore and Kamek, curiosity and caution warring on his face. His hand instinctively rested near one of the power-up pouches strapped to his belt—a habit, Dumbledore suspected, borne of years of living in a world where danger could come from anywhere.

"Uh, Dad?" Harry said, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. "Who's the old guy?"

Dumbledore's lips twitched in faint amusement, but he quickly composed himself as Bowser stepped in behind Harry, his massive frame casting a protective shadow over the boy. The King of the Koopas fixed Dumbledore with a piercing glare, his expression a silent warning to tread carefully.

Dumbledore stepped forward slowly, his robes trailing lightly across the stone floor. He bowed his head slightly, his voice warm but measured. "Harry," he said gently, "my name is Albus Dumbledore. I have come a long way to meet you."

Harry tilted his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the man before him. "You know my name," he said, his tone cautious. "Why?"

Dumbledore straightened, his blue eyes meeting Harry's with quiet sincerity. "Because, Harry, I knew your parents. James and Lily Potter were extraordinary people, and they cared for you deeply."

The boy stiffened, his fingers tightening around the edge of his belt. "You knew my parents?" he repeated, his voice softer now, but still laced with suspicion. "How?"

Dumbledore's expression turned wistful, a trace of regret shadowing his features. "I was their teacher, Harry. I taught them magic, much like the magic you carry within yourself. I was there when they began their journey, and I was there when their journey ended. It is because of them, and because of who you are, that I am here."

Harry's lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze flicking briefly to Bowser, who crossed his massive arms but said nothing. Turning his attention back to Dumbledore, Harry's green eyes burned with a mix of curiosity and hesitation.

"You're saying they were like me?" Harry asked quietly. "That I'm... a wizard?"

Dumbledore smiled gently, his voice soft but firm. "Yes, Harry. You are a wizard. And the world they came from—the world you were born into—is waiting for you to discover it. But the choice to learn about it, and about them, is yours alone to make."

For a long moment, the room was silent, save for the distant crackle of lava. Harry looked down at the spiked wristbands on his arms, his brow furrowed in thought. When he looked up again, his eyes were steady, his voice unwavering.

"You'd better have answers," he said simply.

Dumbledore inclined his head, his expression both solemn and hopeful. "I will do my best, Harry."

Behind him, Kamek muttered, "Finally, someone else to help explain this magic business! Took long enough!"

The tension in the air cracked just slightly, and Dumbledore allowed himself the faintest chuckle. Whatever happened next, this moment was the beginning of a story that had taken far too long to unfold.

Harry stood in the throne room next to his father, his sharp green eyes fixed on the elderly man standing before him. Dumbledore's voice was steady and gentle as he spoke, but his words carried a weight that made the air in the room feel heavier. Bowser stood off to the side, his massive arms crossed and crimson eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange with a protective edge. Kamek hovered nearby, his wand sparking faintly as he muttered to himself, occasionally throwing curious glances at the elderly wizard.

Dumbledore began by recounting the story of Harry's parents—James and Lily Potter. He spoke of their courage, their love, and the tragic night Voldemort took them from the world and how he miraculously survived. Harry listened intently, his face betraying little emotion, though his clenched fists hinted at the storm brewing inside. Dumbledore continued, his voice tinged with regret, as he explained the events that led to Harry being placed with the Dursleys.

"When your parents died, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "I made a decision that I believed would protect you. I placed you with your only remaining blood relatives, trusting that their home would shield you from Voldemort and his followers. The magic of familial bonds is ancient and powerful, and I believed it would keep you safe."

Harry's jaw tightened as memories of the Dursleys—their taunts, their neglect, the cold, cramped cupboard—flooded back. His green eyes hardened. "You're saying you thought they'd protect me," he said, his voice low and controlled. "But they didn't."

Dumbledore's shoulders sagged, and his sorrow was evident in every line of his face. "No, Harry. They did not. I believed that time and the strength of blood ties would overcome their resentment. I was blind to the truth of their cruelty, and that failure is mine to bear."

Harry stared at him, the weight of his words pressing heavily against the anger simmering in his chest. "Let me get this straight," Harry said, his voice sharp as a blade. "You knew they hated me. But you left me there anyway. If you'd known what you know now, would you have done it differently?"

Dumbledore met Harry's piercing gaze, his blue eyes filled with remorse. "Had I known the truth, I would have found another way. I would never have left you with them. My trust in their ability to care for you was a grave mistake, one that I will carry for the rest of my days."

Harry's fists unclenched slightly as he exhaled, though the tension in his shoulders remained. "And what happened to them? The Dursleys?"

"They have faced justice," Dumbledore replied evenly. "The Muggle authorities were made aware of their actions, and they are currently serving sentences for their crimes."

The words hung in the air, final and unyielding. Harry stared at the ground for a moment, his mind racing. He thought of the cupboard, the long nights, the ache of hunger, and the sting of Vernon's hand. But then, unbidden, his thoughts turned to Bowser. To Junior, Kamek, and the life he had now.

"If I hadn't ended up with them," Harry said, his voice quieter now but steady, "I wouldn't have ended up here. With Dad. With Junior. With my real family." He raised his eyes, looking directly at Dumbledore. "So yeah, you messed up. Badly. But it led me to the people who actually cared about me. And for that... I forgive you."

Dumbledore's lips parted slightly, his expression softening with quiet surprise. "Thank you, Harry," he said, his voice carrying a humility that Harry hadn't expected. "Your forgiveness is a gift I did not think I deserved."

Bowser snorted from the sidelines, his massive frame bristling with restrained anger. "You're lucky he's forgiving," the Koopa King growled, his fiery eyes locking onto Dumbledore. "But let me make one thing clear—if you screw this up, wizard, you won't be walking out of this castle. Got it?"

Harry smirked faintly, his eyes glinting with a touch of mischief. "Don't worry, Dad. If he does, you can toss him into the lava."

Kamek, who had been quietly observing, finally burst out laughing, nearly dropping his wand in the process. "Now there's an idea! And here I was wondering what to do with all that unused lava today."

Even Dumbledore allowed himself a soft chuckle, though the solemnity of the moment lingered. He straightened, adjusting his robes as he met Bowser's fiery gaze. "I will do everything in my power to earn both your trust and Harry's," he said firmly. "This, I swear."

Harry leaned back against the stone, his expression pensive as he watched Dumbledore. The emotions roiling inside him—anger, curiosity, forgiveness—began to settle into something calmer. For the first time, the pieces of his past, his present, and his future didn't feel like a jumbled puzzle. They began to make sense and whatever came next, Harry knew one thing for certain: he wasn't facing it alone.

Dumbledore adjusted his robes and gazed at Harry, his blue eyes warm yet tinged with a gravity that suggested the weight of what he was about to say. Bowser stood nearby, his imposing frame radiating quiet protectiveness, while Kamek hovered just above the floor, his wand sparking faintly as he observed the exchange.

"Harry," Dumbledore began, his voice gentle but firm, "you are no ordinary boy. That much, I believe, you have already come to realize. But there is something more you deserve to know—something about your past."

Harry frowned, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he adjusted the spiked wristbands on his arms. "More about my parents?" he asked, his tone cautious but curious.

"Yes," Dumbledore said with a nod, "and about yourself. You see, Harry, when you were just an infant, your parents did something extraordinary—they stood against one of the most feared dark wizards of our age, a man named Voldemort."

At the name, Kamek muttered something under his breath, but Bowser simply crossed his arms, his fiery gaze never leaving Dumbledore.

Dumbledore continued, "Voldemort sought power above all else, and he believed your family stood in his way. He came to your home the night your parents died, intending to destroy them—and you. But something remarkable happened. When he tried to harm you, his power was turned back upon him. His body was destroyed, and he was driven into hiding."

Harry's frown deepened as he absorbed the words. "But... why me?" he asked, his voice quiet. "I was just a baby."

Dumbledore's expression softened, and he stepped closer, his gaze meeting Harry's directly. "That is a question many have asked, Harry, and the answer lies in your parents' love. When they gave their lives to protect you, they created a shield of love so powerful that even the darkest magic could not overcome it. It was not your strength that defeated Voldemort, but the strength of their love for you."

Harry blinked, his fingers brushing over the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead, his mind racing. "So... he's gone? This Voldemort?"

Dumbledore hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, "He is not truly gone, Harry, though his power has been greatly diminished. Many believe him to be no longer a threat, but I cannot say for certain what the future holds. What is certain is that the magical world has come to know you as the boy who survived, the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry froze at the words, his green eyes widening. "The Boy-Who-Lived?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "Why does that sound so... ridiculous?"

Kamek snorted loudly, unable to contain himself. "Ridiculous is right. Boy-Who-Lived? That's a mouthful! Who comes up with this stuff?"

Bowser, however, growled softly, his gaze snapping to Dumbledore. "You mean to tell me that Harry is some kind of legend in your world?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Yes, Your Majesty. Though Harry himself had no say in it, he is known across the magical world as a symbol of hope, of resilience."

Harry stared at the ground, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "So, everyone there knows who I am," he said slowly, his voice filled with an emotion Dumbledore couldn't quite place. "And you're saying they expect something from me?"

"They expect nothing but for you to be yourself, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "It is true that your name is well-known, but what you choose to do with that is entirely up to you. I have come only to give you the opportunity to learn about that world, to explore your magic and your heritage at Hogwarts. Nothing more."

Harry looked up, his green eyes flashing with frustration. "But why? Why now? Why couldn't you have done this earlier? Why did I have to go through everything with the Dursleys first?"

Dumbledore's expression turned sorrowful. "Because I failed you, Harry," he admitted, his voice heavy. "I believed I was doing what was best at the time, but I see now that I was wrong. I have come here to make amends, to offer you the chance to decide your own future."

Harry was silent for a long moment, his hands still gripping his wristbands. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but firm. "And if I say no? If I don't want anything to do with that world?"

"Then that is your choice," Dumbledore said simply. "You are free to stay here, with your family, if that is where your heart lies. But I hope you will at least consider seeing what Hogwarts has to offer."

With that, Dumbledore reached into his robes and produced the envelope. He held it out to Harry, who hesitated before taking it. The parchment was thick and rough beneath his fingers, the crimson wax seal unbroken. Slowly, Harry turned it over and read the address written in elegant script:

Mr. H. Potter,

Mr. H. Koopa,

Prince of the Koopa Kingdom,

Largest Room on the Tallest Tower

Bowser's Castle,

Darklands.

Harry raised an eyebrow, shooting Bowser a look. "They really went all out with the address, huh?"

Bowser grunted, his arms still crossed. "Fancy words won't impress me, wizard."

Harry broke the seal and unfolded the letter, scanning its contents quickly. As he read, a mixture of emotions played across his face—curiosity, apprehension, and a faint flicker of excitement he tried to suppress.

When he finished, he folded the letter and looked back at Dumbledore. "So, this Hogwarts place," he said slowly. "It's a school for magic?"

"It is," Dumbledore replied, his tone warm. "A place where you can learn to harness your magic, to understand it, and to decide for yourself what you wish to do with it."

Harry nodded thoughtfully before glancing at Bowser. "What do you think, Dad?"

Bowser's crimson eyes softened as he looked at Harry. "I think it's your choice, kid. But if you go, remember this: you're a Koopa first and foremost. You don't owe anyone anything. If it doesn't feel right, you come straight back here, got it?"

Harry smiled faintly, nodding. "Got it." Turning back to Dumbledore, he tucked the letter into his belt. "I'll think about it. But don't expect me to be all excited about this Boy-Who-Lived nonsense."

"Of course," Dumbledore said, inclining his head. "I am grateful for your consideration, Harry."

Bowser growled softly. "And don't think you've earned my trust yet, wizard. You've got a long way to go."

Dumbledore met the Koopa King's fiery gaze with quiet resolve. "I understand, Your Majesty. And I will do everything in my power to prove myself worthy of both your trust and Harry's."

Harry looked between the two towering figures, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. Yet, for the first time, he felt like he had the power to make that choice for himself. Whatever he decided, one thing was clear: his life would never be the same again.

Bowser marched over and sat back in his throne leaning back as he eyed the two, his fiery gaze shifting between Harry and Dumbledore. The air in the room was heavy, but his voice was calm and resolute when he finally spoke. "Alright, this is too big for just the three of us to figure out. We need more input before we make any decisions."

Harry frowned slightly, tilting his head. "More people? Like who?"

Bowser's gaze snapped to Kamek, who was hovering nearby and already looking wary. "Kamek," Bowser barked, his tone brooking no argument, "go get the Princess and Mustache. Now."

Kamek blinked, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. "The Princess and Mario? Oh, sure, let me just summon the two most important figures in the Mushroom Kingdom like it's as easy as calling for dinner. No big deal at all!"

"Kamek," Bowser barked, his mane flaring slightly, "Now!"

"Yes, yes, I'm going!" Kamek squawked, disappearing in a puff of blue smoke, his muttering trailing behind. "Honestly, as if they don't have schedules to consider..."

Harry smirked faintly, shaking his head. "You really think Aunt Peach and Uncle Mario will have any helpful ideas?"

Bowser's gruff snort echoed through the chamber. "They always have something to say, whether it's helpful or not. But if this involves anything tied to the Mushroom Kingdom, it's better to get them here now than deal with them freaking out after I make a decision."

Dumbledore observed the exchange silently, his eyebrows lifting slightly at the familial tone in Harry's words. Harry, catching his gaze, shrugged. "They've been around since I got here. They're basically family."

"'Basically' is doing a lot of work there," Bowser muttered, though there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But yeah, they're family enough to have a say in this."

Harry's grin widened as he crossed his arms. "This should be good."

Bowser snorted again, his sharp teeth glinting in the firelight. "You have no idea."