Night had fallen over Privet Drive.
Harry lay on a bed that wasn’t exactly new, listening to the chaos downstairs.
Dudley was throwing one of his usual fits, clinging to his mother and wailing, “I don’t want him in that room!
It’s mine!
Make him move out!” Harry rolled his eyes at the ceiling.
It wasn’t like he’d asked to move up here.
If he’d had any choice, he would’ve taken that letter over this cramped little room any day.
He’d received a letter today.
A letter addressed to him.
He had no idea who sent it, but the thing was downright weird.
It somehow knew he used to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs.
Uncle Vernon wasn’t the generous type.
The only reason he’d let Harry move into this room was to dodge the full address on the envelope.
A strange sound pulled him out of his thoughts.
Harry sat up and started searching for the source.
His fingers brushed against something familiar—an envelope that felt exactly like the one from earlier.
He turned it over in his hands.
Right in the center was a strange triangular symbol inside a circle.
Emerald-green ink spelled out an address he didn’t recognize: Mr.
Harry Potter Potter Manor, Crown Road End Slytherin District, New London New London?
Slytherin District?
Since when did London have a place like that?
Harry stared at the envelope, mind spinning.
He glanced around the room—Dudley’s overflow storage space stuffed with broken toys, a camera used once, the little car that had knocked Mrs.
Figg over, and a whole bookshelf of dusty books Dudley would never read.
He dug through the mess until he found a crumpled map of Britain.
No way was he turning on the light and waking the Dursleys.
He grabbed a flashlight instead and hid under the blankets to study the map.
He checked every corner.
No Slytherin District.
No New London.
No Potter Manor.
This had to be a prank.
A really elaborate one, because who the hell names an entire manor after his last name?
Harry pictured the kind of place Aunt Petunia drooled over on TV—grand houses gleaming under blue skies.
She always said she’d kill for a manor, even for just one day.
The letter suddenly felt heavy in his hands.
Maybe it wasn’t meant for him at all.
Maybe somewhere out there, in that fancy Potter Manor, another Harry Potter was waiting for this exact letter.
He should just mail it back.
Let the post office figure it out.
But curiosity won.
“Sorry,” he muttered to no one, and tore the envelope open.
The paper inside matched the envelope—thick, expensive.
The same emerald ink formed crisp, almost printed letters.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall (Transfiguration Master, “Seven Rings” Great Mage) Dear Mr.
Potter, Your application for admission has been approved.
Term begins September 1st.
Please have your supplies ready.
Yours sincerely, Tom Lestrange Vice Principal (Male) A magic school?
This couldn’t actually be real.
Harry yawned.
A wave of exhaustion hit him so hard his eyes started closing on their own.
“Letter stuff can wait till tomorrow,” he mumbled.
He set his glasses aside and lay back, still clutching the paper.
The thoughts in his head felt like they were moving through glue.
Sleep took him fast.
In the quiet dark, tiny points of light drifted from the envelope and wrapped around him like a cocoon.
Time flowed like a river.
At certain points it split, branching into separate streams that raced in opposite directions.
Above Harry’s sleeping form, a river of starlight appeared.
Each crashing wave showed a different scene.
One wave rose and formed two blurry figures.
“You lost, Albus.
The future of wizards belongs to me now.” “You’ll drag this entire world into the abyss.” “Then I’d rather watch it burn than see wizards cast aside by this world.
A new era is coming!” The wave crashed back down.
The river calmed for a moment.
Then a new shape formed above the water—a figure made of pure starlight, identical to Harry in every way.
It breathed in time with him.
Without warning, an invisible force ripped through the surface.
The starlight figure plunged into the river and vanished.
A massive explosion rocked Grimmauld Place.
Orange fireballs lit up the night sky.
Thick black smoke billowed upward.
Through the haze, wizards in matching combat uniforms charged forward.
Triangle badges gleamed on their chests.
Transparent shields shimmered around them.
“Capture the wizards alive!
Kill the Muggles where they stand!” A commanding voice boomed from the rear, magically amplified into rolling thunder.
The attackers moved fast and clean, pushing through gunfire and stray spells toward a row of buildings.
“They’re here!” Inside the old house, Sirius Black’s face was grim.
He headed down to the basement that had been turned into a hidden chamber.
“The Sacred Wizard Pureblood Guard,” he said.
“Those executioners.
Our people won’t hold much longer.
These Muggles… their weapons are useless against prepared wizards.” James Potter leaned against the wall, eyes locked on the center of the ritual circle.
His wife, Lily, stood at its heart, holding the spell together even now.
He hadn’t slept properly in ten days.
Dark circles shadowed his face.
He’d been running on cheering potions for too long.
His body and mind were both at their breaking point.
James rubbed his face and looked at Sirius with real guilt.
“Sorry, Padfoot.
We dragged you into this.” Sirius gave a short laugh.
“Dragged me?
We’re in this together, mate.” James clapped him on the shoulder and stepped toward the edge of the circle.
An old man sat there—white hair and beard neatly groomed despite the filthy, threadbare robes stained black with grime.
Even after years in prison, he still carried himself with quiet dignity.
No one would guess he was once called the most evil wizard alive.
“Dumbledore,” James said, voice tight.
“We’re running out of time.
How much longer?” The old man stood slowly.
Prison had worn him down, but his eyes were still sharp.
“It’s ready,” he rasped.
Starlight rippled through the room.
In the center of the circle, Lily’s eyes flew open.
Tears streamed down her face like she’d just woken from a nightmare.
“I saw him!” she cried.