Later That Day
Harry sat at the edge of his new bed, the Hogwarts acceptance letter resting quietly on the nightstand beside him. He'd read it twice—then a third time—just to be sure it wasn't a prank. It wasn't.
As the door creaked open, Tristan stepped in, still in his half-worn officer's jacket, clearly just back from a shift. He gave Harry a nod and a slight smile.
"So…" Tristan said, sliding into a nearby chair.
"You don't have to go, you know. If Hogwarts doesn't feel right... there are other options."
Harry blinked and looked at him, confused.
"Wait, what other options do I even have?"
Rosa, who had been leaning against the doorframe with a mug of steaming tea, chuckled dryly.
"Ten more."
Harry stared.
"Ten?! There are ten other magic schools?"
Tristan shrugged.
"Well, technically eleven official ones—spread across the world. Plus a few... less official ones, depending on how you feel about haunted ruins and militant goblin academies."
Harry looked down at the Hogwarts letter again, then glanced at the owl that had delivered it—currently perched on the windowsill, feathers ruffled, eyes haunted.
"Also…" Harry said slowly, pointing.
"Why does that owl look like it's seen three wars and a messy divorce?"
The owl let out a grumpy hoot, as if offended.
Rosa smirked.
"That's the Hogwarts standard owl. It's been trying to break into the Slytherin Clan barrier for two days. Poor thing's probably circled the valley 300 times before the wards gave up."
Tristan nodded.
"Honestly, I respect the bird. Most wizards would've given up. That one's got trauma and commitment."
Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his head.
"So… if I go, this whole clan thing—Hydra, training, snake people—it all pauses?"
Rosa stepped closer.
"No. It follows you. You'll represent the House of Hydra at Hogwarts now. Your name, your bloodline, your legacy... it goes with you."
Harry stared at her, then looked at the owl again.
"I was happier when I just wanted to be left alone in a cupboard…" he muttered.
Meanwhile, at 4 Privet Drive…
Chaos.
That was the only word that could describe what was happening in the Dursley living room.
Albus Dumbledore, calm and wise headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was in the middle of a full-blown shouting match with Vernon Dursley, who was red in the face and nearly foaming at the mouth.
Dumbledore (snapping, which was rare):
"You LOST HIM!? A full legal proceeding took him away and no one thought to inform me!?"
Vernon (practically barking):
"HE WAS NEVER OUR RESPONSIBILITY TO BEGIN WITH! You dumped a baby on our doorstep and said NOTHING for ELEVEN YEARS!"
Dumbledore (outraged):
"To protect him from Voldemort! That was a blood ward, not a babysitting arrangement!"
The air practically sizzled with magical tension.
Meanwhile, on the floral-patterned couch, Petunia Dursley was staring off into space. Her teacup trembled in her hand. Her lips were pressed in a tight line. She looked like she'd just been told her entire life had been a lie—which, to be fair, it had.
Petunia (monotone):
"So... Dudley is a wizard. My son is a wizard. My sister was a witch. Her son is probably Merlin reborn. And I'm still... me."
She blinked once. Then again.
Petunia (softly, to no one):
"Does magic skip? Is that a thing? Is that why my soufflés never rise?"
She downed the rest of her tea like it was a shot of vodka and started muttering under her breath about "magic kettles" and "being cursed with mediocrity."
Back in the kitchen, an owl was angrily pecking the window—its sixth attempt to deliver Dudley Dursley's Hogwarts letter. The window, however, refused to open.
Vernon (sputtering):
"AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN DUDLEY IS A WIZARD!? THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE! HE'S A NORMAL BOY! A GOOD BRITISH BOY!"
Dumbledore (deadpan):
"He exploded a kettle, Vernon. A kettle. Not with a hammer. With emotions."
Outside, a neighbor mowing their lawn peeked through the curtains, hearing the muffled yelling. Seeing an old man in robes, a furious whale of a man, and a woman who looked like she'd seen God and hated what she saw, they promptly turned away and muttered:
"Must be one of those BBC specials again."
Petunia slowly rose from the couch, brushing invisible dust from her skirt, her hands trembling ever so slightly. She turned toward her husband—who was still halfway through another furious rant about "wizard nonsense" and "how this household was supposed to be normal."
She cut through his shouting with a sharp but weary voice.
Petunia (quiet but firm):
"Vernon… please. Just… accept it already."
Vernon (snapping):
"Accept what? That my bloody son is apparently the next Merlin?! That you lot all knew and left me out of it?!"
Petunia pinched the bridge of her nose, then pointed—deadpan—toward the twitching lace curtains of their front window.
Petunia:
"The neighbors are watching, Vernon. Judging us. Very much."
There was a brief silence. Vernon's eye twitched.
He turned his head ever so slightly—and through the curtain slits, he saw old Mrs. Figg squinting through binoculars from across the street.
Petunia (muttering):
"I can already hear it... 'Oh, Petunia's boy is special, you know. Exploded the garden gnome last summer. Pure raw talent.' Just imagine the gossip."
Dumbledore, who had been sipping tea politely (after conjuring a new cup because Vernon smashed the first one in rage), gave a quiet, amused hum.
Dumbledore (gently):
"Well, if it's any comfort, Mrs. Figg is on the Ministry's payroll. She'll likely only tell the cats."
Vernon:
"I AM SURROUNDED BY MAD PEOPLE."
Petunia (finally snapping):
"Yes, Vernon. And one of them might be our son."
There was another screech from the window. The owl was still trying to deliver Dudley's Hogwarts letter, now with feathers everywhere and the growing look of someone who had regrets.
Petunia (calmly):
"I'm letting the owl in."
Vernon (horrified):
"You wouldn't."
Petunia (deadpan):
"Vernon. That thing has been here since 4 a.m. If I don't open that window, it will find a way through the chimney. Or worse."
She reached for the latch. Vernon screamed
Petunia walked to the window, her movements a bit stiff, still processing the chaos of the day. She opened it slowly, as the owl that had been stubbornly pecking for the last ten minutes finally swooped in—clearly proud of itself, like it had just won a war no one else knew was happening.
The owl dropped the letter onto the table with a smug little hoot, then ruffled its feathers and perched like royalty.
Dumbledore glanced at the bird, then turned to Vernon, calm as ever as he took a sip of his tea.
Dumbledore spoke. "If it makes you feel any better, Wizards tend to earn rather generously. Especially once properly trained."
Vernon froze mid-rant. His eyes narrowed, his mouth twitching.
Vernon spoke. "How much are we talking?"
There was a long silence.
Petunia smacked her forehead, eyes closed as she muttered under her breath.
"I love that man, but money is his weakness."
Dudley stared at the owl like it might explode.
He slowly reached for the letter it dropped, his fingers trembling as he opened it.
He read the first few lines, and blinked.
Then again.
And again.
He looked up at his parents and then back at Dumbledore.
"…I'm a wizard?"
There was silence.
Vernon groaned and sat down like the world had ended.
Petunia just sighed, already muttering about "Evans family genes."
Dudley, on the other hand, slowly lit up like a kid who just got handed a Super Saiyan transformation.
He grinned.
"Wait—does that mean I get to shoot fireballs?! Like in Dragon Ball Z?! Do I get a wand or like—can I punch through walls?!"
He paused.
"…Am I going to Hogwarts? Is that where Harry goes? Wait—do we get robes? Do I get a pet dragon?!"
Dumbledore simply smiled, calm as ever.
Vernon, meanwhile, looked like he was about to pass out.
Dudley looked at his hands, flexing his fingers like Goku before a fight.
"I swear, if I get a power level, I'm gonna lose my mind."
Petunia smacked her forehead again and muttered softly.
"I love that boy… but anime has clearly rotted his brain."
Dudley looked at Dumbledore, practically vibrating.
"How do I get my wand?!"
Dumbledore opened his mouth calmly. "That is very si—"
He didn't even finish.
"Do I go on a trial?! Like a challenge, right?! Do I find a stick and then have an elder wizard enchant it with magic? Then I can use it, right?! Do wizards fight each other?! Can I use a sword?! Oh—oh can I?! Can I keep the owls?!"
He said it all in one breath.
Dumbledore just… chuckled. Calmly. Fondly. The same kind of chuckle he had given years ago, when a certain redheaded boy had shouted something about blowing up his toilet seat.
It was oddly nostalgic.
"We don't do wand trials in Britain—that's more of a French and Eastern European tradition," Dumbledore explained gently. "But yes, wands choose their owners at Ollivanders. Wizards do duel, usually with wands, but… some use swords, mostly in the East. And… yes, perhaps you can keep the owl."
Dudley just froze.
Then whispered.
"…I'm going to be so cool."
Petunia just stared blankly at the scene, while Vernon looked like his blood pressure had just declared war on his heart.
Petunia smacked her forehead.
"I love that boy… but anime has definitely rotted his brain."
Dumbledore stood up as he adjusted his cloak, giving the Dursleys a small nod.
"Now, Petunia, I'll be sending Hagrid tomorrow to pick your family up. He'll escort you to Diagon Alley so Dudley can gather his school supplies. Don't worry—Hogwarts has already arranged the necessary funds for him."
Petunia blinked.
"Oh, he's still alive? How's he been?"
Vernon, still mentally buffering, finally spoke.
"…What's a Hagbid?"
Petunia let out a long sigh.
"It's Hagrid, not Hagbid, Vernon."
Dumbledore just smiled like a man who had long stopped questioning these things.
Meanwhile, back with Harry…
A sudden chill ran down Harry's spine.
He froze mid-bite—his fork still halfway to his mouth, loaded with mashed potatoes from what was now his 56th plate of food.
Across the dinner table, Tristan raised an eyebrow. "You alright, Harry?"
Harry slowly lowered the fork, eyes narrowing as he looked into the void only he could see.
"…I just got this weird chill. Not the 'someone's gonna kill me' kind," he muttered, "More like the 'Oh god… this is my life now' kind."
Tristan blinked. "…Do you want it not to be?"
Harry stared down at his mashed potatoes, then back up with haunted eyes.
"…I think my cousin just discovered magic."
Tristan looked at him as he spoke. "How bad can that be?".
Rosa, who had just walked into the room holding a cup of tea, froze mid-step. The cup trembled slightly in her hand.
She looked at Tristan.
Deadpan.
Flat.
Absolutely done.
"…You absolute fool."
Tristan blinked. "What? It's just Dudley."
Rosa set the cup down slowly, as if any sudden movement might trigger a magical explosion. She then looked at Harry.
"Describe your cousin. Be honest."
Harry, still chewing his 57th plate of food, answered casually, "Imagine if a pig learned how to punch, was raised by a drill sergeant with anger issues, and thought eating was a personality."
Rosa turned back to Tristan with the expression of a woman who had seen war. "And you're asking how bad it can be?"
Tristan held up his hands. "Okay, okay… maybe it's a little bad."
Rosa sighed, sat down, and muttered under her breath, "We're going to have to reinforce Hogwarts' Great Hall… and the tables. Maybe the owls too."
Harry just kept eating, already resigned to his fate. "You guys are acting like this is surprising. Dudley got excited at the word sword when saw Trunks use it. That's not normal."
Tristan: "...Did he say anything about wands?"
Harry: "If so he, probably thinks it's a magic shotgun by now."
Rosa: "...Merlin help us all."
Rosa looker at Harry as she spoke. "But that Chances of him being a wizard is low, so finishes the rest of you..... Feast and a go to bed, you will be going to Diagon Alley, with that rest of the Slytherin kids to get your things, ok?"
Harry blinked, his fork halfway to his mouth, plate number 58 beginning to cool slightly.
He looked up at Rosa. "Wait, what? I have to go shopping with other Slytherins? Like… Malfoy Slytherins?"
Rosa nodded, arms crossed, expression firm. "Yes. It's tradition. All first-years from Slytherin Houses get their supplies together—bonding, unity, watching the new ones try not to blow things up. Very educational."
Tristan leaned back in his chair with a grin. "Oh, it's a show. Last year, a boy from House Taipan turned a robe rack into a live snake trying to sell itself."
Harry slowly put the fork down. "And I just go with them? Do I get… protection? Emotional support? A wand? A riot shield?"
Rosa gave a tiny smirk. "You'll have me."
Harry: "So, no riot shield then."
Rosa rolled her eyes and pointed at the still-steaming plates. "Finish your feast, Hydra brat. Tomorrow, you meet the rest of the snake pit."
Harry looked at Tristan for help. Tristan shrugged and took a bite of his own dinner.
"Just remember, Harry… confidence, posture, and pretend you know what you're doing. That's 90% of how Slytherins operate."
Harry stared down at his food with a groan.
"Great. First I learn I'm a wizard. Then that I'm a snake prince. Now I have to go on a group trip with a bunch of elitist teenagers who might try to bite me literally or metaphorically."
Rosa: "You forgot the part where you'll be surrounded by magical creatures, dark artifacts, sentient robes, and about five thousand years of pure-blood drama."
Harry: "I hate everything already."
Rosa smirked and got up. "Then you'll fit right in."
Tristan looked at him as he spoke. "Hey, Theo is one of the kids".
Harry looked at him as he spoke, remembering his new friend. "I guess that will be so bad now"
Rosa looked at him as he spoke. "And My Daughter".
Harry blinked as he spoke. "You have a child?"
Rosa narrowed her eyes at him as she spoke. "What do you mean by that, Potter?".
Harry froze, his fork midair again. "…I-I meant nothing! I just… you don't look like someone who— I mean—" He glanced at Tristan like a deer begging to be hit by a car just to escape.
Tristan, ever the traitor, just sipped his water to hide a laugh.
Rosa narrowed her eyes even further, crossing her arms with that same terrifying energy Lady Slytherin had. "Finish that sentence, Potter. I dare you."
Harry swallowed. "I meant—You look very… youthful. Energetic. Like a cool older sister type."
Rosa's expression didn't change for a few seconds. Then slowly, very slowly, a single eyebrow rose.
Tristan finally stepped in before Rosa summoned a live snake to wrap around Harry's chair. "Don't worry, Rosa. He's new to women who can kill him with a glance. Give him a week."
Rosa let out a sigh and rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a faint smirk. "You're lucky you're cute, Potter. And yes, my daughter will be joining you tomorrow. Her name's Seraphina."
Harry tilted his head. "Seraphina… sounds dramatic."
"She's worse than me," Rosa replied flatly.
Tristan choked on his drink.
Harry stared at her in horror. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"
Rosa smirked, brushing her bangs back. "Probably. But at least you'll look good doing it. You'll be representing the House of Hydra, after all."
Harry groaned and slumped into his chair.
Tristan patted his back. "This is your life now, kid."
Tristan looked at Rosa as she spoke. "So, why did you say Daphne's middle name instead of hee first name?".
Rosa leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on her lips.
"Because," she said, tapping her fingers on the table, "Daphne is what she goes by in public. Seraphina is what I named her. It's her middle name, and it's what I call her when she's being herself—especially when she's about to cause chaos."
Tristan raised an eyebrow. "So… basically, you use 'Seraphina' when she's being dangerous?"
Rosa smirked wider. "Exactly. 'Daphne' is for society. 'Seraphina' is the storm I raised."
Tristan sighed. "God, this is my daughter Mother".
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy