Harry still hadn't recovered from the shock of Hagrid mentioning his parents. He was lost in thought—could these two men possibly have known his parents, who had supposedly died in that car crash?
But before he could even ask, Uncle Vernon stormed forward, clutching his rifle with a vicious glare.
"Get out of my house, you two! You're trespassing!"
"Shut up, Dursley, you great lump!" Hagrid barked angrily. Just as he was about to do something rash, Harry saw the other man—a tall, handsome gentleman—pull out a delicate little wand. He held it like a conductor's baton and gave it a casual flick.
Was he planning to use that… against a gun?
Harry's eyes widened. He didn't doubt for a second that Uncle Vernon would actually shoot. But before he could shout a warning, he saw the rifle's barrel move.
No, not move—come to life!
The long barrel twisted and reshaped itself into a snake, coiling and hissing as it turned toward Vernon Dursley, tongue flicking menacingly. Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley all screamed, throwing the serpent-turned-rifle to the floor in terror.
"My apologies," said the man politely. "I only turned it into a snake because, well… guns are far too dangerous."
Harry blinked. So he's polite—but only a little.
"Hah! Nice Transfiguration there," Hagrid said with a laugh before turning back to Harry. "Anyway—'appy birthday, Harry. Got somethin' fer yeh—might've sat on it once or twice, but it'll taste just the same."
He pulled out a cake.
A completely squashed cake.
Even so, Harry's heart leapt. Just minutes ago, he'd thought no one remembered his birthday at all. Flattened or not, it was still the first real birthday gift he'd ever received.
"Reparo."
The handsome man—Charles Gold—walked forward, raised his wand, and tapped the cake lightly. In an instant, it sprang back into shape, just as perfect as when Hagrid had first made it.
The words on top read HAPPEE BIRTHDAE HARRY. Typical Hagrid—he'd even misspelled it. But Harry didn't mind. What amazed him more was Professor Gold's effortless magic.
"Wow!"
"Just a simple Repair Charm," Charles said with a smile. "The incantation is Reparo—add the name of the object in front of it, and voilà: cake restored."
Harry stared, stunned. "Who… who are you people?"
"Well, I haven't introduced meself properly yet," Hagrid said proudly. "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. And this here's Charles Gold—Professor Gold to you—he'll be teachin' at Hogwarts this year."
But soon Hagrid realized that Harry didn't know anything—not about wizards, not about Hogwarts, not even the truth about his parents. The boy thought they'd died in a car crash. The thought made Hagrid furious.
"You mean you never told him? Never told him what was in Dumbledore's letter? I was there! I saw him leave it! Dursley! All these years you've kept it from him?"
Hagrid looked ready to punch Vernon square in the face. But oddly, this time Vernon didn't back down. His face purpled with rage as he glared right back at Hagrid.
"Kept what from me?" Harry demanded, desperate for answers.
"Easy, Hagrid," Charles intervened gently. "Why don't you explain things to Harry? I'll have a word with the Dursleys."
He guided Hagrid and Harry aside, then turned to face the family himself.
"Stop right there!"
"Don't you come any closer!"
Vernon puffed up like a balloon, his neck lost in a sea of fat. The Dursleys looked absolutely terrified, as if Charles were some kind of monster.
"Mr. Dursley," Charles began calmly, "perhaps we can have a civilized conversation."
"We've got nothing to say to your kind!" Vernon snapped.
"I rather think you do," Charles replied mildly, a faint, knowing smile on his face.
Yes, this was the same man who had flattened pure-blood wizards, beaten dozens of Aurors, and even pinned the Minister of Magic under his boot—but deep down, Charles Gold considered himself a good wizard. He preferred reason over force.
"Harry Potter will be my student from today onward," Charles said evenly. "As his future professor, it's only natural that I take an interest in his home life."
"Harry won't be your student! I won't have him going to that crackpot school!" Vernon roared.
"I'm afraid that's not your decision!" Hagrid bellowed from behind Charles. "Try stoppin' Lily an' James Potter's son from goin' to Hogwarts, are yeh mad?! His name's been down in the book since he was born! He'll be goin' to the finest school o' witchcraft an' wizardry there is! Seven years there'll make him a proper young wizard—an' he'll study under the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts ever had—Albus Dumbledore!"
"I'll not pay a single penny for that old fool and that oaf to teach him tricks!" Vernon shouted back.
That was a mistake.
Hagrid leapt forward, towering over Vernon like a mountain. "Never—INSULT—Albus—Dumbledore—in front—of—ME!"
Dumbledore was the man Hagrid admired most—the one who had saved him when the world turned against him. And, coincidentally, Charles owed much to Dumbledore as well.
But unlike Hagrid, Charles didn't lose his temper easily.
"Enough, Hagrid," he said gently. "Dumbledore wouldn't want you to harm them."
When Hagrid stepped back, the Dursleys were already trembling.
"There's no need for all this unpleasantness," Charles said evenly. "Even if you dislike wizards, that doesn't matter. It's Harry who'll be attending school, isn't it?"
He paused, then added lightly, "Besides… have you ever considered that your own child might be a wizard someday?"
"What? You mean—Dudley?" Vernon and Petunia both gawked at him.
"Perhaps. Though in this case, no—he isn't. But you can't be sure about his descendants, can you? Wizardry runs in families, Mrs. Dursley. Harry inherited it from his parents—and you're his aunt. Surely you didn't think it skipped you entirely?"
Petunia's lips tightened. For once, she said nothing.
"Even so!" Vernon sputtered. "Even if that were true, I'll never let anyone in my family go to that blasted school!"
Charles merely sighed. "Very well, Mr. Dursley. But tell me—what good will defying us do you? You've left your comfortable house just to hide here, in misery?"
Vernon opened his mouth to retort, but something in Charles's expression made him falter. The professor's politeness was gone, replaced by quiet authority—and something dangerous beneath.
No one liked being screamed at for too long, least of all Charles Gold. And if the Dursleys refused to listen to reason, well… he wasn't above giving them a lesson.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Hagrid had begun explaining everything—the letter, the truth about Harry's parents, and the world he was destined to join.
(End of Chapter)