"Oh, this… um…" Hagrid shifted his massive weight, his cheerful demeanor evaporating under the weight of Dudley's question. He didn't want to talk about these dark things, especially not with this Dursley boy. But then he saw Harry's wide, pleading eyes, and he knew he couldn't refuse.
"Alright," he sighed, a deep, sorrowful sound. "These things shouldn't rightly come from me, but since you want to know, I'll tell you."
Hagrid paused, gathering his thoughts, and then he began to speak. As he recounted the story of Lily and James Potter, of a dark and terrible wizard named Lord Voldemort, and of a night of betrayal and murder, Dudley finally began to understand. Though many mysteries remained, the broad strokes of the tragedy became clear.
"Lord Voldemort killed Harry's parents," Dudley processed internally, "but failed when he tried to kill Harry, leaving only that scar on his forehead… which means…"
His gaze snapped to the lightning-bolt scar. A jolt of understanding went through him.
No wonder I felt that aura of evil and madness. It's a remnant of Lord Voldemort himself. But what kind of magic could leave such a profound, lingering trace? After more than ten years, the evil aura is still potent…
His knowledge of this world's magic was still too limited to form a proper judgment.
"…In short, Harry, you're famous in our world," Hagrid finished, wiping away tears with the back of his hand. "You're The Boy Who Lived. Your name resounds throughout the wizarding world. From the moment you were born, your name has been in the Book of Admittance at Hogwarts. You'll learn magic there and become a great wizard!" He pulled Harry into another enthusiastic, bone-crushing hug.
"Can I… can I really?" Harry whispered, his voice filled with a fragile hope.
"Yes, you definitely can," Hagrid boomed with absolute certainty.
"Um, I have a question," Dudley interjected, cutting through the emotional moment. "What happened to Lord Voldemort in the end?"
Hagrid physically flinched at the name and shot Dudley a look of pure displeasure. "He disappeared," he said, his voice dropping low. "No one knows if he's dead or alive. Many think he must be, but I don't reckon he'd die that easily. There wasn't much human left in him to kill." He leaned in, his expression grim. "And let me remind you, we don't say his name. We call him You-Know-Who. It's best you do the same."
"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," Dudley retorted coolly.
"I won't comment on your ignorance," Hagrid said coldly. "We'll see if you're still so confident after you've learned more about his deeds."
Dudley said nothing more. He doubted this Voldemort was like the True Gods of that other world, where merely speaking a name could invite divine wrath. Still, it was possible that, through some occult principle of causality, saying the name could allow this dark wizard to sense it. It was better to be cautious. He had no desire to attract the attention of a powerful, reckless dark lord, especially while his own strength was so diminished.
Meanwhile, Vernon and Petunia had gone deathly pale. The knowledge that a "Dark Lord" had been hunting their nephew's family filled them with a fresh wave of terror.
Dudley saw their expressions and felt a surge of cold anger. The people of this magical world, knowing full well the danger Harry was in, had dumped him on their doorstep without a single word of explanation. They had left his family completely exposed, potential cannon fodder for Voldemort's fanatical followers. Even if there were protections in place, things could always go wrong.
His initial good impression of the wizarding world soured considerably.
Suppressing his displeasure, Dudley calmly told his parents to go upstairs and rest. After leaving Harry and Hagrid to their reunion, he returned to his own room.
The next morning, when Dudley came downstairs, he found Hagrid sleeping soundly on the floor, his thunderous snores shaking the living room. Harry was already in the kitchen, humming to himself as he prepared breakfast, his face alight with a joy Dudley had never seen before.
"Morning," Dudley greeted him.
"Morning," Harry replied brightly. "Hagrid said he's taking us to get our school supplies today." He hesitated. "Did he say… what kind of money we'll need?"
"Don't worry," Dudley said. "If you need it, I'll cover your share."
"Thank you," Harry said quickly, a wave of relief washing over him. He had been worrying all night about how he would pay for his things. Dudley really had changed.
"But I don't think you'll need my help," Dudley added with a small smile.
"Why not?"
"From what Hagrid said, your parents were very prominent in the wizarding world. It's unlikely they left you with nothing."
"Is that so?" Harry looked stunned. He hadn't even considered the possibility.
The morning passed quickly. It wasn't until nearly noon that a deafening roar startled the entire house.
"Oh, blimey! I've overslept!" Hagrid bellowed, sitting up abruptly. "So much to do today, and I've slept 'til noon!"
"I thought you needed the rest, so I didn't wake you," Dudley and Harry said in near unison.
"No time for that now! We have to hurry! Come with me!" Hagrid had no time for more words. He herded Harry and Dudley out the door, placed them on the back of his enormous motorcycle, and with a deafening roar, sped out of the yard, leaving a deep trench in the manicured lawn. This time, thankfully, he stayed on the ground.
"HEY! WHERE ARE YOU TAKING MY SON? STOP!"
Vernon and Petunia came rushing out of the house, but the three of them were already disappearing down the street.
"Vernon, quick! Follow them!" Petunia shouted.
Without a second thought, they scrambled into their car and sped off in hot pursuit.
***
(End of Chapter)
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