Harry rode the subway home to Privet Drive that night, arms full of packages.
Vernon Dursley—still under the Soul-Stealing Curse—hauled everything inside for him.
The man grunted and wheezed like an angry boar as he lugged the heavy bags up the stairs.
He kept muttering curses under his breath, but he followed every order without hesitation, carrying in the potion bottles, textbooks, and the big owl cage.
Hagrid had given Harry a beautiful snowy owl as an early birthday gift.
The giant had said if the Dursleys ever gave him trouble again, just write a letter and the owl would fetch him.
Harry appreciated it, but he didn’t think he’d need the help anymore.
The Dursleys were firmly under his control now.
They still glared at him with pure hatred, but the moment he gave an order they jumped to obey.
Aunt Petunia was struggling in the kitchen without Harry’s usual help.
She looked flustered and clumsy as she tried to get dinner on the table.
Harry ignored her.
He dropped onto Uncle Vernon’s favorite couch and pulled out the envelope Hagrid had given him.
Inside was his Hogwarts train ticket—King’s Cross Station, September first, eleven o’clock sharp.
Wizards taking a regular train still felt weird to him.
He’d half expected flying carpets or something.
He turned the ticket over and stared at the platform number.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Sounded like a joke.
Harry didn’t believe for a second that King’s Cross had suddenly grown an extra platform between nine and ten.
Still, after everything he’d seen today, a hidden platform didn’t seem that impossible.
Dinner came and went.
The Dursleys slipped back into their usual routines—Dudley whining for the TV remote, Vernon giving in, Petunia cleaning up—exactly as Harry had ordered them to.
He walked past them like a ghost, brushed his teeth, and headed to his room early.
He wasn’t tired.
The nap in the Gringotts mine cart had taken care of that.
Harry pulled out the thin Standard Book of Spells and his new wand.
Time to try magic the way this world expected.
No magic ring to do the work for him—just words, wand movements, and raw power.
He started with the easiest spell in the book.
“R-E-P-A-R-O… Reparo!” First he practiced the pronunciation until it rolled off his tongue.
Then he tried the wand movement.
Every time he focused, he felt the magic ring on his wrist tug gently at the power inside him.
The ring from the other world was reacting, guiding the magic even here.
It wasn’t enough to form a full spell yet, but the pull was real.
Words and gestures both helped stir the magic.
Put them together and maybe it would work.
He practiced on the broken junk Dudley had left scattered around the room.
There was plenty of it.
After twenty minutes Harry yawned.
Hard.
This was boring as hell.
He could already feel his eyes getting heavy.
“Screw it.
I’ll try again tomorrow,” he muttered.
He put the wand and book away, changed into pajamas, and flopped onto the bed.
The ceiling stared back at him.
“Night, Harry,” he told himself, then closed his eyes.
“Harry.
Harry, can you hear me?” The voice pulled him awake instantly.
He opened his eyes and found himself staring at the concerned faces of James and Lily Potter standing beside his bed in the other world.
He sat up fast.
Lily immediately pulled him into a tight hug.
“Harry, you’re awake.” “What’s wrong, Mom?” he asked, confused by how emotional she sounded.
“Easy, Lily.
You’re too worked up for what we need to discuss.” James gently pried his wife off their son.
“Go rest.
Let me and Harry handle this.” Lily hesitated, clearly wanting to stay, but her legs wobbled and she nearly fainted.
A maid hurried forward to help her out of the room.
Once everyone else was gone, James turned to Harry with a serious expression.
“Harry, we need you to run some experiments.” “What kind?” The idea of doing something important with his dad actually sounded pretty cool.
Harry sat up straighter.
“First, the simplest one.
You need to stay awake all night—both here and in the other world.
Don’t sleep until morning, then try sleeping again.” “Here first?” “Both.
Try it in this world, then again over there.” James’s voice stayed calm but firm.
“Before you fall asleep in the other world, set up something loud enough to wake you.
Something that’ll make a real racket.” “Why?” James looked him straight in the eye.
“What time do you think it is right now?” “I don’t know… late?
Maybe three or four in the morning?” Harry glanced at the dark window.
“It’s ten forty at night.
You only slept a short time because I tried calling you back.
I think the ritual might be tied to time magic.
When something forces you to wake up, your body stays at that exact moment.” Harry’s eyes widened.
“Seriously?” “Maybe.
The ritual came from… a very powerful source.” James didn’t elaborate.
“Try sleeping again right now.
See if you go back to the other world or just have a normal night’s rest.” Harry nodded and lay back down without argument.
James pulled the blanket up to his chin, then pointed at the fireplace.
Blue flames flickered to life—cool, not hot—chasing away the stuffy warmth in the room.
“See you tomorrow, Harry.” “See you tomorrow, Dad.”