"According to the books sent to me by your enthusiastic fan, that not-so-bright wizard named Dedalus Diggle, children born in Britain and Ireland with magical abilities are all invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the age of eleven.
And the headmaster of this school, Albus Dumbledore, is the one who brought you here and left that explanatory letter about ten years ago."
Dudley explained to his cousin with clear reasoning, adding reassuringly, "Don't worry, Harry! Even if no one comes to notify you about the magical world, I won't let you go to a place like Stonewall High, which is chaotic and has poor teaching standards."
"Cousin, I understand. Thank you!" Harry felt a warmth in his heart, and the worries and shadows about his future completely dissipated.
Dudley had always been intelligent and well-read, strong yet gentle, and had treated Harry better than a brother.
Even when Harry's accidental magic caused strange and unimaginable incidents, making others see him as a freak, Dudley never looked at him differently. Instead, he cared for him even more, guiding him to understand and control his magical abilities.
If it weren't for Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's lingering distance and disdain, Harry's childhood might have been considered perfect.
Harry shook his head, using the method Dudley had taught him to shake off the unpleasant thoughts. Then, he cheerfully caught up with Dudley, bombarding him with questions, both old and new, with endless curiosity:
"Cousin! Is that Mr. Diggle the strange man who bowed to me in the shop that day?"
"Yes, that's him! After he greeted you that day, I followed him and asked why. He told me you were the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, a celebrity in the wizarding world, and that he admired you greatly.
Later, I made a deal with him—some of your signed homework in exchange for books about wizards and magic. He was more than happy and even gave me some extra Galleons, the wizarding currency."
Dudley Dursley munched on his beef jerky, patiently answering Harry's questions. His calm and composed demeanor was far from that of an eleven-year-old; he seemed more like a wise elder who had seen much of the world but still retained his passion.
But neither Harry nor the Dursleys ever noticed this. To them, Dudley had always been this way—exceptionally gifted and extraordinary.
"Cousin, cousin! Does that Headmaster Dumbledore ride a motorcycle? A flying one! I've always dreamed of being on a flying motorcycle, flying for a long, long time!"
"Oh, Harry! I don't think you should associate a hundred-year-old man with such extreme sports. Even if the books say he's the greatest wizard of the twentieth century, the twentieth century is almost over, and he's old, isn't he?"
"So, was the flying motorcycle just a dream?"
"Not necessarily. Maybe someone else rode a flying motorcycle to bring you here. Dumbledore is a headmaster; he must have some subordinates, right? Like me and my Dudley Gang, maybe he has something like a Dumbledore's Army."
"Does Dumbledore know how to box too? Like you, cousin..."
The journey wasn't long, and soon Dudley and Harry arrived at their destination—the spacious two-story house at 4 Privet Drive, where they had lived together for nearly ten years.
It was around eight or nine in the morning, still early. A gray-brown owl, clutching a yellowish envelope, flew in from the horizon and precisely dropped the letter into the mailbox by the front door.
"Harry, I think your acceptance letter has arrived!"
Dudley's eyes sparkled with excitement as he watched the Scottish round-faced owl, though he quickly masked it with his usual gentle and affectionate gaze.
"Pspspsps..."
Dudley made a coaxing sound, catching the attention of the owl, which had been about to fly away. The owl, initially uninterested in Muggles, had been eager to return to Hogwarts' owlery for a couple of field mice.
But its sharp eyes caught sight of the delicious beef jerky Dudley was holding, and the half-full bag of it in his arms.
"Whoo..."
Unable to resist the temptation, the owl changed its flight path, circling around and heading straight for the beef jerky in Dudley's hand.
Seeing this, Dudley smiled, raising his Smeltings cane to provide a perch for the owl while generously feeding it strips of beef jerky from the bag.
The owl, thoroughly pampered, gradually let its guard down, allowing Dudley to stroke its wings and back feathers without resistance.
"Squawk—"
As the saying goes, "Caution is the parent of safety," but the owl post of the British wizarding world clearly hadn't heard this wisdom from the mysterious East. It had easily fallen into Dudley's trap.
Dudley, now holding the owl firmly with both hands, had dropped his cane and the bag of beef jerky. The poor owl, terrified, struggled wildly in his grasp.
"Harry!" Dudley called softly.
"Yes, cousin!"
Harry, standing nearby, immediately understood. He raised his hands, focusing intently on the flailing owl, and began to channel his magical energy.
"Calm... quiet... relax... we mean no harm..."
As Harry murmured, an invisible wave of magic emanated from his hands, enveloping the frantic owl. Slowly, the owl stopped struggling and settled down, allowing Dudley to hold it without resistance.
"Good bird!"
Dudley smiled. He turned to Harry and said, "Go get your letter. Don't go inside yet—we'll read it here before going in."
Harry paused, then understood Dudley's reasoning. This was to avoid Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, who despised magic, from interfering.
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon adored Dudley and would do anything for him—except when it came to wizards and magic.
Harry hurried to the mailbox and, among the letters and bills, found the yellowish parchment letter delivered by the owl.
Breaking the seal—a wax stamp featuring a lion, badger, eagle, snake, and other intricate designs—Harry Potter finally held his first official acceptance letter from Hogwarts.
"Cousin! It's really from Hogwarts! They want me to start on September 1st, and I need to buy a wand, supplies, a pet, and first-year textbooks... I have to reply by July 31st!
How do I send a reply to the wizards at Hogwarts? Oh, right! You've already caught the owl!"
Harry whispered excitedly to Dudley, his joy evident. But then, a thought struck him, and his mood dipped slightly.
"Cousin... if I go to Hogwarts, I won't be able to go to school with you anymore."