Knock-knock-knock.
Petunia was at the door before the third rap, yanking it open like she was ready to throw hands. Her knuckles went white on the knob.
An old man with a beard longer than a CVS receipt stood there, half-moon glasses glinting. Behind him? A goddamn wall of brown leather that turned out to be a human—Hagrid, three meters of pure "I bench-press Buicks for fun." Arms thick as tree trunks, hands like trash-can lids. Dude could palm your skull and pop it like a grape. Kodiak bear on steroids? Nah, this was the king of bears, tipping the scales at a cool ton.
Petunia didn't flinch. Mama-bear mode: engaged.
Dumbledore blinked. This ain't the Petunia he remembered—the one who'd hiss "freak" under her breath.
"Long time no see, Petunia. Ring any bells?"
"Principal Dumbledore. Yeah, ten years ago you dumped Li—Harriet on my doorstep."
"She was a chubby little nugget. Cute as hell. And he carried her." Petunia jabbed a finger at Hagrid.
The giant scratched his beard, floored. "Wait—you remember me? A Muggle?"
"She just said she, Hagrid," Dumbledore cut in, calming the big guy. "Mind if we come in?"
"Be my guest."
She stepped aside. Dumbledore glided through; Hagrid folded himself like origami to fit the frame without ripping the house in half.
Living room. Freeze-frame.
Dumbledore recovered first, eyes locking on the couch. Hagrid's jaw hit the carpet a beat later.
"That's… Harry?" Hagrid pointed at Dudley, then swung to Lynn. "Which one's—"
"She is," Dumbledore said, sinking into the armchair. His gaze zeroed in on the girl next to Lynn—nervous, green eyes, black hair still damp from the shower. "You haven't forgotten Lily's face, have you, Hagrid?"
"Course not—Lily?!" Hagrid's voice cracked. He rubbed his eyes like he'd walked into a mirage. Eight, nine points of resemblance. No DNA test needed; this kid was Lily's, stamped and sealed.
"But why a girl?" Hagrid plopped on the floor—still taller than everyone sitting. "I carried him—her—whatever! I swear on me mum's grave—"
Petunia jumped in, ironclad. "Confirmed. One hundred percent girl. No fakes."
She and Vernon tag-teamed a theory so airtight it left Dumbledore dazed. Hagrid's jaw stayed unhinged.
"You're saying… Lily protected her? Turned Harry into Harriet to throw Voldemort off the scent?"
Petunia shrugged. "My sister was scary smart. If she knew she was marked, she'd pull every trick in the book."
Dumbledore swallowed blood. Trelawney's prophecy: boy born end of July. But Neville Longbottom was born July 30th too. Did Tom pick the wrong kid?
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well… shit happens. Let's talk brass tacks."
"Miss Harriet Potter. Mr. Lynn." Dumbledore leaned forward. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You're both invited to learn magic—properly. Bottling that power up or letting it explode? Recipe for disaster. We're talking Obscurials—nasty shadow-beasts that'll straight-up murder you and level the block."
He tapped the coffee table with his wand. Poof. Grass, daisies, the whole damn meadow. Living room smelled like a florist on prom night.
Dudley stared, drooling a little. "So… I could do that?"
Dumbledore winced. "Sorry, big guy. Wizard parents can still pop out a Squib. Muggle-borns? One in ten thousand. But hey—family privilege. You get day-passes to the wizarding world. Just don't flash magic in front of normies or the Ministry'll Memory-Charm your ass and slap you with a fine."
Dudley perked up. Better than nothing. (Force-Fitness Room still gave him PTSD, though.)
"Field trip!" Dumbledore clapped. "Diagon Alley—wizard mall. School supplies, and your first wand. Hagrid's your tour guide. Don't ditch him unless you wanna end up in Knockturn Alley buying cursed teeth."
He slid a coin pouch to Lynn. "Hogwarts hardship fund. Enough for used books—new ones'll bankrupt you."
Lynn raised a brow. "Currency exchange?"
"Gringotts. Muggle cash to Galleons, limited. Gold? One gram = one Galleon. Roughly five quid each. Goblins love haggling."
Dumbledore turned to Harriet, pulling a tiny gold key from his robes. "Your parents left a trust vault. This is yours now."
Harriet closed her fist around it. "Thank you, Professor."
"Don't mention it." He handed Petunia a parchment map. "Leaky Cauldron entrance. Drive safe."
And with a twinkle and a nod, the old wizard was gone—leaving the Dursleys, a giant, and two shell-shocked kids staring at a living room that now smelled like spring break in a botanical garden.