"'Course yeh'll have yer letter," Hagrid announced with the theatrical flair of a stage magician about to pull a rabbit from his hat—except instead of a rabbit, he produced a thick envelope from the depths of his enormous coat. The parchment was heavy and cream-colored, sealed with deep red wax that bore an intricate crest. It looked like the kind of stationery that charged by the ounce and took itself very seriously indeed.
"Had a devil of a time trackin' yeh down, mind," Hagrid continued, his beetle-black eyes twinkling with something between pride and exasperation. "Dumbledore knew the Dursleys had spirited yeh away somewhere, but findin' this godforsaken pile of driftwood in the middle of absolutely nowhere? That took some proper detective work, that did. Nearly gave up twice—once when I realized I was seasick, and again when I discovered what they're chargin' for boat rental these days."
Harry accepted the letter with hands that were steadier than he felt, turning it over to examine the wax seal. The Hogwarts crest was pressed deep into the red wax—a shield bearing four animals arranged around an ornate 'H' that managed to look both ancient and somehow timeless. A lion, an eagle, a badger, and a serpent, each representing... well, he knew what they represented. But holding the actual letter, feeling the weight of the parchment and the slight warmth still radiating from the wax, made it all suddenly, undeniably real.
"This is it," Harry said quietly, his voice carrying a note of wonder he didn't have to fake. "This is really happening."
"'Course it's happenin'," Hagrid said, his voice warm with affection as he settled his massive frame onto what remained of the couch. The furniture responded with a series of creaks and groans that sounded like a ship in distress. "Been happenin' since the day yeh were born, Harry. Just took eleven years to catch up with yeh."
Harry carefully broke the wax seal—it seemed almost sacrilegious to damage something so perfectly crafted—and unfolded the heavy parchment. The letter was written in emerald green ink in an elegant script that probably took years to master:
*HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY*
*Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore*
*(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)*
*Dear Mr. Potter,*
*We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.*
*Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.*
*Yours sincerely,*
*Minerva McGonagall*
*Deputy Headmistress*
Harry looked up from the letter, a slow grin spreading across his face. "They want an owl by July thirty-first. That's... optimistic, considering I didn't even know magic was real until about twenty minutes ago."
"Ah, well," Hagrid said with a dismissive wave of his massive hand, "that's more of a suggestion than a hard deadline. 'Sides, yeh won't be needin' to send an owl. I'm here to take yeh shoppin' meself, aren't I? Dumbledore's orders—make sure Harry gets everythin' he needs, an' don't let the Muggles mess it up." He paused, glancing meaningfully toward the back room where the Dursleys had retreated. "Though I'd say that ship sailed 'bout ten years ago."
Harry flipped the parchment over and found the supply list on the back, written in the same elegant script:
*FIRST-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:*
*UNIFORM*
*Three sets of plain work robes (black) for everyday wear*
*One plain dress robe (black) for formal occasions*
*One protective dragon hide or similar gloves*
*One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)*
*Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags*
*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*
*The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble*
*OTHER EQUIPMENT*
*1 wand*
*1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)*
*1 set glass or crystal phials*
*1 telescope*
*1 set brass scales*
*Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad*
"Dragon hide gloves," Harry read aloud, raising an eyebrow. "Well, that's not ominous at all. What exactly am I going to be doing that requires protection from dragons?"
Hagrid chuckled, his beard bristling with amusement. "Oh, that's jus' for Herbology, mostly. Professor Sprout's got some plants that bite back if yeh don't handle 'em proper. Though," he added thoughtfully, "I suppose there's always Potions class. Professor Snape's cauldrons have been known to explode with spectacular results. Nearly lost me eyebrows in his class back in me day."
"You went to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, genuinely curious despite already knowing the answer.
"Aye, that I did. Third year when I got—well, that's a story for another time," Hagrid said quickly, his expression darkening slightly before brightening again. "Point is, Hogwarts is the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, no question. Yeh'll love it there, Harry. Best years of me life, they were, even with all the... complications."
Harry folded the letter carefully, noting the slight hesitation in Hagrid's voice when he mentioned his time at school. Another mystery for later investigation. "So tomorrow we go shopping in... Diagon Alley?"
"That's right. Best magical shopping district in Britain, maybe the world. Got everythin' yeh need and quite a few things yeh don't but might want anyway." Hagrid's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Wait 'til yeh see it, Harry. The shops, the people, the magic happening right out in the open... It's summat else entirely."
"Blimey," came a voice from across the room, thick with incredulity and barely contained hunger, "still can't believe they told yeh yer parents died in a car crash."
Harry looked up, realizing Hagrid had been speaking almost to himself, lost in fond memories.
"Car crash?" Hagrid's voice went dangerously quiet, his massive hands clenching into fists the size of Christmas hams. "They told yeh James and Lily died in a ruddy car crash?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Harry had read about Hagrid's temper in the books, but experiencing it in person was something else entirely. The man radiated barely controlled fury, his bulk suddenly seeming less cuddly giant and more sleeping volcano.
"That's what they said," Harry confirmed, settling back onto the couch beside Hagrid. Despite the man's obvious anger, Harry felt safer next to him than he had in... well, eleven years. "Drunk driver, apparently. Very tragic. Very ordinary. Very un-magical."
"James Potter?" Hagrid's voice climbed in pitch and volume with each word. "James bloody Potter could've hexed a car into next Tuesday before it got within fifty feet of him! The man once turned Sirius's motorbike into a flying machine just because he thought it would be 'interesting.' An' Lily—" His voice softened with obvious affection. "Lily Evans was the finest witch I ever met. Brightest student in her year, maybe in a decade. Sharp as a whip and twice as clever, with a heart bigger than the Great Hall. The idea that a bloody automobile could take down either of 'em..."
He trailed off, shaking his massive head in disgust.
"So they really were murdered," Harry said quietly. It wasn't a question—he knew the answer better than almost anyone—but saying it aloud felt necessary somehow. Like making it official. Real.
"Aye, lad. Murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself." Hagrid's voice dropped to barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might somehow summon the Dark Lord from whatever dimension of suffering he was currently occupying. "Darkest wizard there's ever been, some say. Killed dozens of good witches and wizards. Hundreds, maybe. Whole families wiped out. Men, women, children—didn' matter to him. Nothing mattered 'cept power and fear."
Harry nodded slowly, processing the weight of those words even though he already knew the history. "But he couldn't kill me."
"No," Hagrid said, and his voice carried a note of wonder, as if he still couldn't quite believe it himself. "No, he couldn't. Tried to, mind you. Used the Killing Curse—Avada Kedavra—works every time, no exceptions, no survivors. Most terrible curse there is. One word, green light, and yeh're done. No pain, no struggle, just... gone." He paused, looking down at Harry with something between awe and paternal pride. "'Cept you. Only person who ever lived through it, you are. Only person in the history of magic."
"Lucky me," Harry said with a slight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"That's why yer famous, Harry," Hagrid continued earnestly. "That's why everyone in the wizarding world knows yer name. You-Know-Who killed yer parents, tried to kill you, and somehow—no one knows how, not even Dumbledore—you survived. Not only survived, but the curse rebounded on him. He disappeared. Gone. Vanished into thin air like smoke."
Harry touched his forehead where the lightning bolt scar sat hidden beneath his unruly fringe. "And all I got was this scar."
Hagrid chuckled despite the heavy subject matter. "That yeh did. But Harry—" His expression grew serious, almost reverent. "That scar's not jus' a mark. It's proof. Proof that love is stronger than the darkest magic. Yer mum died to save yeh, threw herself between you and You-Know-Who, and that kind of sacrifice—ancient magic, that is. The oldest and most powerful kind. It leaves traces. Protection. He couldn't touch yeh because of what she did."
Harry felt his throat tighten unexpectedly. In the books, this moment had been touching. In person, with Hagrid's earnest belief and genuine emotion radiating from every word, it was almost overwhelming. Two sets of memories meant double the emotional impact—Harry Potter's desperate need to know about his parents, and Harry Smith's adult understanding of what such a sacrifice really meant.
"She saved me," Harry said softly.
"She did. Both of 'em did, in their way." Hagrid's voice was thick with unshed tears. "Died protecting you, they did. An' Harry—" He reached over and placed one enormous hand gently on Harry's shoulder. "They'd be so proud of yeh now. I know they would. Could see it in their faces when they looked at yeh as a baby. Pure love, that was. The kind that echoes through magic itself."
Before Harry could respond—and honestly, he wasn't sure what he would have said—a voice piped up from the corner with all the grace and timing of a natural disaster.
"Is that cake?"
Both Harry and Hagrid turned to see Dudley, who had apparently been lurking in the shadows like a particularly large and hungry vulture, eyeing the birthday cake with the focused intensity of a predator who'd just spotted wounded prey.
"I'm hungry," Dudley announced, as if this was breaking news that required immediate attention and possibly a press conference.
"Dudley, no," Petunia hissed from her corner, but it was far too late. Her son had already lumbered forward with all the grace of a sedated rhinoceros and grabbed a massive handful of pink icing, cramming it into his mouth like he was afraid someone might stop him.
Harry watched in fascination as Dudley chewed thoughtfully, his pig-like eyes widening with what might have been surprise at the taste. Then, apparently deciding the cake met his exacting standards, he reached for another piece. And another. Within minutes, he'd managed to demolish nearly half the cake with the devastating efficiency of a locust swarm with abandonment issues.
"Boy's got quite an appetite," Hagrid observed mildly, though something in his tone suggested he wasn't entirely pleased with this development. His hand had moved almost unconsciously to the battered pink umbrella leaning against the couch.
"Dudley's always been enthusiastic about food," Harry said diplomatically, fighting back a grin. "Though usually he waits until after he's confirmed it's not mine before taking it. This is actually progress—he's expanding his horizons."
"Well," Hagrid said, and his voice carried a distinctly ominous undertone that suggested storm clouds gathering on a previously clear day, "I s'pose there's no harm in sharin'. After all, it is a birthday cake, even if it wasn't meant for him. Though—" He paused, watching Dudley stuff another enormous handful into his mouth. "—I might've mentioned I made that cake meself."
Harry raised an eyebrow, suddenly very interested in where this was heading. "Should I be concerned about your baking skills?"
"Oh, I'm a fine baker," Hagrid said cheerfully, his beard bristling with what looked suspiciously like mischief. "Won prizes at the Hogwarts house-elf baking competition three years running, I did. It's jus' that sometimes I get a bit distracted when I'm cookin'. Start thinkin' about other things, yeh know? Magic things. Transfiguration homework, magical creature care, spell practice..." He shrugged massive shoulders. "Sometimes the spells sort of... wander into the food."
As if summoned by cosmic timing and a sense of dramatic irony, Dudley froze mid-chew. His already small eyes went wide, then wider, and he made a sound like a deflating balloon that had been crossed with a surprised pig. Which, as it turned out, was remarkably prescient.
A curly pink tail erupted from the seat of Dudley's oversized pants.
The silence that followed was the kind that usually preceded either divine revelation or the apocalypse, possibly both.
"DUDLEY!" Petunia's shriek could have shattered glass, summoned the dead, and probably registered on seismic equipment in three neighboring counties. "What's—how did—what is that THING sticking out of your—VERNON!"
Dudley, meanwhile, had begun spinning in circles like a very confused dog trying to chase something he'd never catch, his new appendage wagging enthusiastically with each frantic rotation as if it was genuinely excited to exist and wanted everyone to know about it.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL—" Vernon burst out of the back room like a human-shaped thundercloud, took one look at his son's new anatomical feature, and turned a color that suggested his cardiovascular system was staging a formal protest and considering filing a complaint with management.
"YOU!" he bellowed, pointing a shaking finger at Hagrid with all the authority of someone who'd clearly never met a giant with magical abilities before. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON?"
Hagrid had the grace to look slightly sheepish, though his eyes were definitely twinkling with barely suppressed amusement. "Well, er, I might've been practicin' pig transformation spells while I was bakin'. Had an essay on advanced transfiguration theory, yeh see, and sometimes when I'm concentrating real hard, the magic sort of... lingers in the ingredients. Usually doesn't do anythin', mind. Takes quite a bit to activate it properly."
"Activate it?" Vernon's voice cracked like a teenager's, climbing toward frequencies that probably made local dogs perk up their ears.
"Aye, exactly right," Hagrid nodded approvingly, as if Vernon had just demonstrated a particularly good grasp of magical theory. "Usually needs someone with, well, pig-like qualities to really bring out the full effect. Greed, gluttony, general selfishness, that sort of thing. The magic recognizes kindred spirits, yeh might say."
Harry bit his cheek so hard he tasted blood, desperately trying not to laugh as Dudley continued his frantic spinning dance, squealing with what was either terror or confusion—possibly both.
"So you're saying," Harry managed, fighting to keep his voice level, "that the cake was basically a personality test?"
"More of a practical demonstration, really," Hagrid said with scholarly seriousness. "Very educational. Shows the importance of not takin' what doesn't belong to yeh. Also demonstrates the fundamental magical principle that actions have consequences, especially when there's enchanted pastry involved."
"GET IT OFF!" Dudley wailed, finally stopping his spinning long enough to grab at the tail with both hands, which only made it waggle more enthusiastically. "GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!"
"Oh, it'll wear off," Hagrid said with casual dismissiveness, pulling out his battered umbrella and examining the tip with the air of someone checking their watch. "Few hours, maybe a day or two. Depends on how much he ate and how much his personality resonates with the original spell matrix."
Petunia made a sound like a kettle reaching critical pressure. "A DAY OR TWO? He has school on Monday! What are we supposed to tell people?"
"The truth?" Harry suggested helpfully. "That he ate someone else's birthday cake and got exactly what he deserved? I mean, it's got a nice moral lesson built right in. Very educational. You're always going on about proper behavior and consequences—this is just consequences with a magical twist."
Vernon looked like he was experiencing several cardiovascular events simultaneously. "You... you FREAKS! This is... this is assault! This is... it's..."
"It's justice," Hagrid said mildly, but there was steel beneath his casual tone. "Boy took summat that wasn't his an' got exactly what he deserved. Could've been much worse—I was practicin' full pig transformations earlier this week. Be grateful it was jus' the tail. Much more reversible, tails are."
"Full pig?" Dudley squeaked, his voice climbing toward frequencies that only dolphins could appreciate.
"Oh aye," Hagrid nodded cheerfully. "Complete species transformation. Very advanced magic. Takes weeks to reverse, sometimes months if the subject really embraces the change. Had a student once who got so comfortable being a pig he didn't want to change back. Had to get the Ministry involved, forms in triplicate, whole bureaucratic nightmare." He shrugged. "This is hardly worth mentionin' by comparison."
Dudley made a sound like a deflating bagpipe and tried to hide behind his mother, which was rather like trying to hide an elephant behind a lamppost.
Hagrid stood up, his massive frame unfolding until his head nearly touched the ceiling, and suddenly the entire family took an involuntary step backward. When he was sitting down, Hagrid seemed large but approachable. Standing up, he was a force of nature that happened to be wearing clothes.
"Now then," he said with cheerful finality, "I think it's time yeh all got some sleep. We've got an early start tomorrow—Diagon Alley opens at nine sharp, and Harry's got a lot of shoppin' to do. Need his books, his wand, his cauldron, proper robes... Can't have him startin' Hogwarts unprepared."
"He's not going anywhere with you!" Vernon snarled, though he stayed well back from Hagrid's considerable reach. "I won't have this... this freakishness in my family! We're normal people! Respectable people!"
"Respectable," Harry mused aloud, "is a strong word, Uncle Vernon. I'd maybe go with 'generally law-abiding' or 'adequately housed.' Though after tonight, even those might be optimistic."
Hagrid's expression went flat, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several more degrees. "He's goin' to Hogwarts," he said quietly, his voice carrying the kind of absolute authority that made mountains pay attention, "an' that's final. Yeh've had eleven years to mess with his head, fill him full of lies an' nonsense about his parents, about magic, about what he is. That ends tonight."
He gestured meaningfully toward Dudley, who was still whimpering and trying unsuccessfully to tuck his new tail into his oversized pants.
"An' if I hear yeh've been givin' him any trouble when he comes back for holidays... well." Hagrid's smile was pleasant and absolutely terrifying. "Pig transformations aren't the only spells I know. Got quite a repertoire, I have. Learned some very interesting things during me travels."
The threat hung in the air like smoke from a particularly ominous fire.
Vernon opened his mouth, probably to deliver another blustering rant about freaks and normality and proper British values, but one look at Hagrid's face—and his son's new tail—made the words die in his throat. Instead, he grabbed Petunia and the still-sniffling Dudley and beat a hasty retreat to the back room, slamming the door hard enough to make the whole hut shake and probably wake up fish for miles around.
"Well," Hagrid said cheerfully, settling back onto the couch with obvious satisfaction, "that went better than I expected. Usually takes me at least two spells to shut Vernon up completely."
Harry couldn't hold back his laughter anymore. "I'm starting to think you enjoyed that."
"Maybe a little," Hagrid admitted with a grin that could have powered half of London. "Been wantin' to give that family a piece of me mind for eleven years. Felt good to finally do it properly. Should've done it years ago, really, but Dumbledore said—well, that's neither here nor there now."
He stretched out on his end of the couch, which responded with a series of groans that suggested the furniture was filing a formal complaint with its union representative.
"Right then, Harry. Yeh take the other end there—it's more comfortable than it looks, even if it sounds like it's dyin'. We'll need to be up early for London tomorrow. Diagon Alley waits for no one, and we've got quite a bit to accomplish before September first."
Harry settled onto his end of the couch, finally allowing himself to truly relax for the first time since... well, since he'd died, technically. The sound of the storm outside was oddly comforting now, like nature providing a soundtrack for the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.
"Hagrid?" he said quietly.
"Mm?"
"Thank you." Harry's voice was soft but sincere. "For the cake, for telling me the truth about my parents, for..." He gestured vaguely toward the door behind which the Dursleys were presumably having a crisis about pig tails and their implications for their social standing. "For standing up to them. No one's ever done that before."
Hagrid's expression softened, and Harry caught a glimpse of something fierce and protective in those beetle-black eyes. "Don' mention it, lad. Should've been done years ago. Should've been lookin' out for yeh this whole time, making sure yeh knew who yeh really were, where yeh came from."
He paused, his voice becoming thoughtful. "But Dumbledore said yeh needed to stay with family, that the blood protection would keep yeh safe from You-Know-Who's followers. Said it was the only way to make sure yeh lived to see yer Hogwarts letter."
"Blood protection?" Harry asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Aye. Powerful magic, that. Old magic. Long as yeh can call Privet Drive home, long as yeh've got yer mum's blood in yer veins an' live with her blood relatives, You-Know-Who can't touch yeh. His followers can't find yeh, can't hurt yeh." Hagrid's voice was reverent. "It's the love yer mum had for yeh, Harry. It's still protecting you, even now."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. That was something he'd need to consider very carefully indeed. The blood protection was useful, certainly, but not if it meant staying trapped with the Dursleys indefinitely. Magic was rarely as absolute as it appeared on the surface—there were always exceptions, loopholes, alternative interpretations. He just had to be clever enough to find them.
"Get some sleep now," Hagrid said, his voice already thick with approaching unconsciousness. "Big day tomorrow. Whole new world waitin' for yeh, Harry Potter. An' trust me—it's going to be an adventure."
Harry lay perfectly still in the darkness of Hagrid's hut, listening to the gamekeeper's breathing gradually deepen into the distinctive rhythm of proper sleep. The storm outside had settled into a steady drumbeat against the windows, and Hagrid's gentle snores provided a oddly comforting counterpoint to the chaos in Harry's mind.
*Okay, Smith,* he thought to himself, unconsciously falling back on his old surname like a mental anchor. *Time to see what this magical video game life has to offer.*
Moving with the careful precision of someone who'd spent years sneaking around the Dursley house after curfew, Harry slowly reached under his makeshift pillow—really just a folded blanket that smelled faintly of dragon smoke and wet dog—and retrieved the vial of Enhanced Memory Potion. Even in the dim light filtering through the cracked windows, the liquid seemed to glow with an inner light, like liquid mercury that someone had mixed with actual starlight.
"Well, that's not ominous at all," he whispered under his breath, holding the vial up to catch what little moonlight managed to penetrate the storm clouds.
Immediately, a translucent screen materialized in front of him, glowing softly blue:
**[Enhanced Memory Potion - Rare]**
**[Effect: Permanently increases memory retention and recall by 25%. Allows perfect recollection of magical theory and spell components. One-time use.]**
**[Warning: May cause temporary disorientation as brain pathways reorganize.]**
Harry read it twice, then grinned despite himself. "Brain pathways reorganizing. Right. Because that doesn't sound terrifying at all." He glanced over at Hagrid, who was still snoring peacefully, one massive hand dangling off the edge of his bed. "Sorry, Hagrid. If this goes wrong and I start speaking in tongues or something, just... I don't know, feed me to one of your more friendly creatures."
He held the vial up again, studying the swirling contents. Not flashy like a strength potion or a flight elixir might be, but incredibly practical. Perfect memory would make learning magic exponentially easier, and Harry had a feeling he was going to need every possible advantage in the years ahead.
"Here goes nothing," he muttered, uncorking the vial with a soft *pop* that made him freeze and glance nervously at Hagrid. The gamekeeper didn't even twitch.
Harry brought the vial to his lips and drank it in one smooth motion, the way he'd learned to down medicine as a kid—quick and decisive, no time for second thoughts.
The taste hit him immediately: cold electricity mixed with something that could only be described as liquid wisdom, if wisdom had a flavor profile. It was like drinking lightning while simultaneously having someone download an encyclopedia directly into his brain.
For a moment, absolutely nothing happened.
Then his brain felt like someone had just ripped out his old, clunky desktop computer and installed a quantum processor.
*Oh. Oh wow.*
Every memory—both Harry Potter's eleven years and Harry Smith's twenty-five—suddenly became crystal clear, like someone had taken a fuzzy television and cranked the resolution up to 4K. He could remember not just reading the Harry Potter books years ago, but every single detail, every conversation, every minor plot point he'd ever dismissed as unimportant worldbuilding.
More than that, he could remember every textbook he'd ever skimmed in college, every documentary he'd half-watched while procrastinating on Netflix, every random Wikipedia article he'd fallen down rabbit holes reading at three in the morning. It was all there, perfectly organized and instantly accessible.
It was like having Google installed directly in his head, except instead of searching the internet, he was searching the combined knowledge of two lifetimes.
"Holy..." Harry started to say, then caught himself before he could wake Hagrid. Instead, he lay there in stunned silence as his enhanced memory began automatically cross-referencing everything he knew about magic, history, science, and human nature.
*This is insane,* he thought, testing his new capabilities by pulling up a perfect recollection of a chemistry textbook he'd barely glanced at in community college. *I can remember the molecular formula for aspirin. I can remember the exact wording of the Statute of Secrecy. I can remember every single Quidditch statistic Hermione ever rattled off in the books.*
The initial rush of information gradually settled into a manageable hum of enhanced cognition, like having a supercomputer quietly running in the background of his mind. Harry settled back against his pillow, listening to the storm outside and Hagrid's gentle snoring, but his mind was racing despite his body's exhaustion.
*Okay, Smith—Potter—whoever you are now,* he thought, automatically organizing his thoughts with newfound clarity. *Time to make some plans.*
The first priority was glaringly obvious: Sirius Black.
The original Harry Potter wouldn't learn about Sirius's innocence until his third year, and even then only by accident when Peter Pettigrew was finally exposed. But Harry knew the truth now, could recall every detail of the revelation with perfect clarity. Sirius was innocent, Peter Pettigrew was alive and hiding as a rat with the Weasley family, and the real traitor was living comfortably while his best friend rotted in Azkaban.
*That's going to change,* Harry decided with quiet determination. *And soon.*
Getting Sirius free wouldn't just save an innocent man—it would give Harry options. Sirius was his godfather, his legal guardian in the wizarding world, and more importantly, someone who could potentially get him out from under both Dumbledore's well-meaning manipulations and the Dursleys' ongoing abuse. It was a win-win scenario all around, assuming he could pull it off without getting himself arrested for treason or accidentally creating some kind of timeline paradox.
The tricky part would be doing it in a way that didn't expose his impossible foreknowledge. He needed to be clever about it. Subtle. Make it look like coincidence or brilliant deduction rather than knowledge of future events that technically hadn't happened yet.
*Right,* Harry mused, unconsciously organizing his thoughts into neat mental folders. *Step one: get to Hogwarts and establish myself as someone worth listening to. Step two: find a plausible way to expose Pettigrew. Step three: free Sirius and gain a powerful magical guardian. Step four: avoid getting murdered by Voldemort while I'm at it.*
He paused, reconsidering that last point.
*Actually, maybe step four should be step one. Priorities, Potter.*
A particularly loud rumble of thunder made both him and the still-sleeping Hagrid stir slightly. Harry glanced over at the gamekeeper's peaceful face, barely visible in the darkness, and felt a sudden surge of genuine affection for the man who'd rescued him from the Dursleys and introduced him to the wizarding world.
*Poor Hagrid,* Harry thought with enhanced clarity of all the hardships the half-giant would face in the coming years. *He's going to get blamed for so much that isn't his fault. Maybe I can help with that too.*
Another item for his mental to-do list: protect the people he cared about. Hagrid, who'd already shown him more kindness in one evening than the Dursleys had in eleven years. The friends he hadn't met yet but knew he would love—Ron and Hermione, who'd stand by him through everything. Even Neville, who'd grow into one of the bravest people Harry had ever known, if given the chance.
*Speaking of Neville,* Harry realized with his newly perfect recall, *his parents are still alive. Tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange, but alive. Maybe... maybe there's something that can be done about that too.*
The possibilities were both exhilarating and overwhelming. With perfect memory and foreknowledge of events, he could potentially prevent so much tragedy, save so many people, maybe even find a way to end Voldemort's threat before it could fully manifest.
But he had to be smart about it. Careful. One wrong move and he could make everything worse instead of better.
Harry smiled in the darkness, feeling more optimistic about his future than he had since... well, since waking up in that bizarre cosmic customer service center.
*Tomorrow, Diagon Alley,* he thought, his enhanced memory already pulling up every detail he knew about the magical shopping district. *My first real taste of the wizarding world as someone who actually belongs here.*
Then Hogwarts, magic, friends, and the delicate art of changing the course of history without anyone noticing.
A soft snort from Hagrid's direction made Harry glance over, just in time to see the gamekeeper mumble something that sounded suspiciously like "Not the dragons again, Dumbledore..."
Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Even in sleep, Hagrid was perfectly himself.
*This is going to be interesting,* Harry thought as he finally felt sleep beginning to pull at his consciousness, lulled by the storm and Hagrid's snores and the gentle, constant hum of his enhanced memory quietly organizing his entire understanding of magic, science, and human nature into neat, accessible files.
*Very, very interesting indeed.*
As he drifted off to sleep, Harry's last conscious thought was a mix of anticipation and determination. Tomorrow would be the first day of his new life as Harry Potter, wizard and secret keeper of future events.
He intended to make the most of it.
---
R.O.B. paused his viewing screen and leaned back in his impossible chair, whistling softly through his teeth. The enhanced memory potion had been a stroke of genius on his part—not too powerful, not too obvious, but absolutely perfect for a kid who was going to need to juggle two lifetimes' worth of knowledge while convincing everyone he was just naturally clever.
"Look at that beautiful, scheming little mind working," he said admiringly, watching Harry's sleeping form on the screen. "Already planning to save Sirius, already thinking three moves ahead. And he hasn't even seen Diagon Alley yet."
The cosmic popcorn bowl refilled itself as R.O.B. settled in for what promised to be a spectacular show.
"Oh, this is going to be fun."
---
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I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!