The first letter came in a spiral.
Not just the ink—the parchment. Twisted like a vortex, sealed with a wax crest that pulsed faintly. It
arrived through the keyhole during breakfast. The Dursleys burned it. The next morning, forty-seven
more fell from the sky, landing in perfectly symmetrical positions on the lawn. One hovered directly in
front of Harry's eyes.
Uncle Vernon tried boarding up the house. Aunt Petunia muttered about 'unnatural winds.'
And then came the knock.
1Harry was already standing at the door, fully dressed, a kettle brewing behind him.
"Mr. Rubeus Hagrid," he said as the door crashed inward. "Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You're three minutes and twelve seconds behind schedule."
Hagrid, blinking snow from his beard, froze.
"… Blimey," he muttered.
Over tea, Harry asked questions not even the elder professors had dared. He spoke of Leylines,
Obscurials, the Eleven Hidden Realms, and the Resonance Feedback Paradox. Hagrid, flummoxed,
handed him the official Hogwarts letter and said very little else. Harry accepted it solemnly.
"I've waited for this," he said.
And the storm outside ceased, as if the world itself agreed.