Mrs.
Potter watched Harry finish breakfast with gentle eyes.
The moment he stood up, he reached for his plate out of habit.
“No, sweetheart.
You don’t need to do that.
Someone will take care of it.” She rang a small bell on the table.
A line of maids appeared, cleared the dishes, and brought warm towels for everyone.
Mrs.
Potter gently wiped Harry’s mouth once they were alone again.
“Remember, Harry,” she said, lowering her voice.
“Don’t tell anyone where you really came from.
If someone asks, just keep it short.
No details.” Mr.
Potter walked over.
The chair behind him slid forward on its own and settled beside Harry.
He sat down with a smile.
“Looks like you still don’t know much about wizards.” “Wizards?” Harry’s eyes went wide.
“You and Mom are wizards?” “Of course.
And so are you.” Mr.
Potter ruffled his hair.
“Your Hogwarts letter already arrived.” “Lyte,” he called.
Harry blinked.
A small gray-skinned creature with huge eyes and pointed ears popped into existence right in front of him.
The house-elf wore a tiny tuxedo that looked slightly ridiculous on him.
“Master, how may I serve you?” Lyte asked, bowing low.
“Bring me the letter that came for Harry.” “Yes, sir.” Lyte vanished with a soft pop and reappeared a second later holding the exact same envelope Harry had opened the night before.
Harry grabbed it.
“I’ve seen this!
It’s the one that brought me here while I was sleeping!” Mr.
Potter’s voice turned sharp.
“Harry.
Remember what we talked about?” Harry froze.
He looked at Lyte and felt a rush of guilt.
“Sorry, Dad.
I forgot.” Mrs.
Potter smiled.
“It’s all right.
Lyte isn’t an outsider.
He’s the most loyal house-elf we have.” “That’s right, young master!” Lyte puffed out his chest.
“You can trust Lyte completely!” “Harry still doesn’t understand how serious this is,” Mr.
Potter said.
He placed both hands on Harry’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye.
“Some people don’t want you to see us again.
If you mention anything about coming from another world, you could lose us.
Do you understand?
You have to keep this secret.” Harry nodded hard.
“I promise.
I won’t tell anyone.” “Good.” Mr.
Potter held up his hand.
“Father-son pact.” Harry slapped his palm against his father’s.
“Pact!
I swear I won’t say a word.” Mr.
Potter laughed and scooped Harry into his arms.
“Come on.
The shopping should be here by now.
Let’s see if there’s anything else you need for school.” Harry felt warm and a little awkward in his father’s arms, but he didn’t want to be put down.
They walked through the manor until they reached the grand entrance hall.
Piles of packages were stacked everywhere, like the biggest Christmas haul Harry had ever seen—except these were all for him.
More than Dudley had ever gotten in his entire life.
A wizard in practical robes and a pointed hat stood waiting.
He removed his hat and gave a small bow.
“Mr.
Potter, everything you ordered has arrived.
Magic Analysis, the 138th revised edition of Standard Spells, two summer and two winter sets of robes, a self-heating cauldron for beginners, dragonhide gloves, crystal potion vials, telescope, and brass scales.” Mr.
Potter set Harry down.
“One hundred and thirty-eight revisions?
The kids these days are working hard.” He chuckled.
“Maybe the magical universities should shorten the school year.
A full year is too long for the publishers to keep up with all the new spells.” Harry stared at the mountain of strange, wonderful things.
“Oh, and this.” The wizard handed over a beautifully wrapped wooden box.
“The item you specially requested.” “Finally.” Mr.
Potter took the box and knelt in front of Harry.
“I was going to give this to you on your birthday, but I think you need it now.” Inside was a sleek metal bracelet inlaid with gems, wood, and materials Harry couldn’t name.
It looked expensive and powerful.
“Ollivander’s Magic Ring Shop’s black gold elder wood ring,” the wizard explained.
“Five built-in protective charms.
It automatically casts one soul-based spell and two transfiguration spells if you’re in danger.
Perfect for defense.” Mr.
Potter slid the ring onto Harry’s wrist.
It shrank instantly to fit perfectly, warm and comfortable.
A bright red spell shot from Mr.
Potter’s fingertip straight at Harry’s face.
Harry threw his hand up on instinct.
A soft blue bubble flared to life, caught the spell, and flung it sideways.
The deflected spell smashed into a painting on the wall.
Sparks flew.
The canvas tore apart and fell to the floor.
Harry’s mouth dropped open.
He felt awful about wrecking the picture.
Mr.
Potter just smiled and ruffled his hair.
“Next time try directing the reflection.
Send every nasty curse right back where it came from.” He clapped once.
Lyte appeared beside the broken painting, gathered the pieces, and the whole thing shimmered and repaired itself.
The painting floated back up and rehung itself perfectly.
“Master, Mistress, everything has been checked and accounted for,” Aunt Petunia said, appearing out of nowhere in her housekeeper uniform.
“Good,” Mr.
Potter said.
He turned to the delivery wizard.
“Thank you for your trouble, Mr.
Hodge.”