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Under English law, a citizen's private property is sacred and inviolable.
If someone breaks into a home without permission, even if they are killed by the homeowner, it can be considered self-defense.
Of course… that only applies to ordinary people.
Wizards, however, do not answer to the laws of the Muggle world.
In fact, it's worth mentioning that the word "Muggle" is actually a derogatory term. In certain contexts, it could even be translated as "idiot."
Outside, Hagrid stared at the recently reattached door with a defeated expression.
After several minutes of silence, he climbed onto his small motorcycle and drove away.
Only when the sound of the engine faded into the distance did Dudley finally relax.
He still feared Hagrid might return to continue the conflict.
He turned to his parents and to Harry.
"The annoying intruder is gone. We can go back to sleep now."
He was exhausted.
A Level 5 skill had practically drained every ounce of his energy.
He needed rest.
The rest could wait until tomorrow.
Definitely… he would need to use that move more cautiously in the future.
Without another word, he lay down on the sofa and fell into a deep sleep.
Vernon opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but Petunia quietly tugged at his sleeve. After exchanging a look, they went upstairs in silence.
Hagrid's visit had made one thing clear to the Dursleys — the wizards would not give up on Harry.
Meanwhile, Harry felt no fear.
He felt admiration.
'As expected of Big D… not even that giant could beat him.'
He had so many questions…
But Dudley was asleep.
'Better ask him tomorrow.'
...
The next morning, the habit he had cultivated since childhood made Dudley wake up early.
After finishing his morning training, only then did the other three come downstairs.
The first thing Dudley said was:
"We should go back home."
His still-round, sweat-dampened face carried a maturity that didn't match his age.
"I think we'll be getting important visitors soon. Like yesterday."
Without much discussion, the family packed their things and Vernon drove them back to Privet Drive.
During the trip, no one spoke.
Hours later, they returned to the familiar two-story house, and the owls that had once surrounded the yard were gone.
Near the mailbox, a lone tabby cat watched them unload their luggage, its eyes sharp and attentive.
...
"Dudley, dear…"
As soon as they entered, Petunia tried to speak, but he raised his hand.
"Before anything else, I think you should tell us everything. About Harry's origins. About the aunt I never met. About her husband. And those… abilities. We're a family. We can be honest with each other."
He emphasized the word "family."
Harry's eyes lit up.
He sat quietly, waiting.
Vernon and Petunia remained silent. They knew their son.
Dudley had never caused them trouble. He had always been responsible and sensible.
The harmony in that house owed much to him.
But he was also stubborn.
"We'll tell them," they had decided the night before.
There was no point hiding it anymore.
Petunia took a deep breath.
"Alright… If you want to know, then listen. It all began when my sister and I were children…"
Her hoarse voice began the story.
There were wizards.
There was magic.
And there were ordinary people.
There was joy, there was sorrow, and there was regret.
When she was young, Petunia had admired the magical world.
After Lily went to Hogwarts, she wrote countless letters to Dumbledore, begging to be accepted as well.
But she had no magical talent.
She was rejected.
Even so, she kept searching for information.
She learned about Dementors.
About Death Eaters.
About Voldemort.
She learned that he had murdered many half-bloods and Muggle-borns.
Until the day she received news of her sister's death.
That was the moment her dream — and any curiosity about that world — died.
Even so, knowing everything, she chose to raise Harry.
Perhaps she wasn't the best aunt.
But she believed she was being a responsible sister.
The story stopped at the moment they found a baby sleeping in a basket at their doorstep.
There was no need to explain what happened next.
Harry already knew that part.
It was him.
...
After hearing everything, Harry spoke, his voice complicated with emotion.
"So my parents didn't die in a car accident… they were murdered?"
That was the story he had grown up hearing.
"Harry… forgive me."
Petunia looked into those green eyes — the same eyes her younger sister once had.
Harry shook his head.
"You did it to protect me."
He stood up awkwardly, trying to express gratitude.
"Thank you for taking care of me all these years. I owe you so much."
Growing up beside Dudley had forced Harry to mature early.
In that moment, all he felt was respect.
For the first time, Vernon looked at him with genuine approval.
Petunia covered her mouth, her eyes glistening.
"They're cruel…" she murmured.
"We didn't want you to…"
"That night you lost your parents… and I lost my only sister…"
Her voice broke at the end.
Then a gentle voice sounded from outside.
"Petunia, it wasn't your fault."
The door slowly opened.
Standing outside was an elderly man with a long white beard and kind features.
Beside him was the same tabby cat that had been watching the house earlier.
"Eavesdropping on other people's conversations is not very polite."
Dudley cast him a cold look.
"Professor Dumbledore."
The old man blinked.
"My apologies, young… ah… what a tall young man."
He had originally intended to call him "little," but Dudley was nearly his height.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts."
After everything he had heard.
After the confrontation in the cabin.
After nearly losing Dudley.
After realizing they might belong to different worlds.
Something inside Harry snapped.
His heart pounded.
His ears rang.
His eyes turned red.
He couldn't hold it in anymore.
He pointed at Dumbledore and shouted:
"I AM NOT GOING TO HOGWARTS!"
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