Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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"Hey!"

Smack!

The short, charged slap nearly knocked Harry's soul out of him.

Dudley had held back a bit, but his slap was still powerful enough to dent a metal drum. If that had hit an adult, they'd be seeing stars and probably knocked out cold.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow! That hurts!"

Harry, now rubbing his back against the sofa, was twitching his toes in pain. Caught completely off guard, the slap had even brought tears to his eyes.

"Are you crazy, Dudley? Why'd you hit me out of nowhere?"

Harry winced and wiped away the tears from his eyes, glaring angrily at the culprit.

"Well, you suddenly zoned out! I thought a slap would knock some sense into you. You know, like exorcising demons—one good slap and it's all gone."

"Get lost." Harry rolled his eyes and kicked Dudley aside. "You're the one who's possessed, not me. Last night, I dreamt of a goddess in a bikini winking at me, inviting me to heaven for some fun."

"Oh? Were her legs long?"

"Super long—like two meters."

"Pfft, that's nothing. I've dreamt of legs three meters long."

Bantering as they were, the two sat back down together. Harry picked up the letter again.

"Hogwarts School of Magic Warfare?"

As soon as those words left his mouth, Aunt Petunia, who had been peeking out of the kitchen at the noise, dropped the plate she was holding. It shattered into pieces on the floor.

"What did you say?!"

Harry had never seen Aunt Petunia look so tense. She practically ran over, snatched the letter from his hands, and began reading it with trembling eyes.

Suddenly, her legs gave out. Harry and Dudley quickly reached out and helped her to the sofa. Uncle Vernon, too, abandoned his coffee and newspaper, hurrying over in concern.

"What's wrong, Petunia?" Uncle Vernon asked, his voice full of worry.

"Harry… he… Vernon…"

Aunt Petunia, on the verge of breaking down, clung to Uncle Vernon, her tears soaking through his shirt. Her sobs grew louder, to the point where she could barely speak a coherent sentence.

"What's going on, Mom?"

Dudley, equally anxious, gripped his mother's hand. "Are you okay? Or is it Harry?"

"It's just a prank letter, isn't it?" Dudley snatched the letter, ready to tear it up and toss it into the fireplace.

"They're coming."

Aunt Petunia grabbed Dudley's arm, lifting her head slowly. Her red, swollen eyes locked onto Harry.

"They've come for you, Harry… this day… this day…"

Her voice faltered as tears choked her, leaving her unable to say another word.

"Don't cry, Aunt Petunia. Please don't cry."

Harry moved closer, hugging his aunt and gently patting her back.

"Take your time. Don't rush. I'm right here."

It took a long while, but Aunt Petunia finally managed to stop crying. She wiped her tears and took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure.

"Do you know why your uncle and I took you in, Harry?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"Because my parents died."

"Yes, my sister and her husband died."

Aunt Petunia's distant eyes focused on Harry, but it seemed as though she wasn't really looking at him, more like she was staring at some ghostly memory.

"Lily… my sister..."

"She received the same letter," Aunt Petunia whispered. "And after she graduated, she died... leaving you, just a year old."

"People out there say your parents were gangsters, that they died in a gang war. That's nonsense, and I'm glad you never believed it. But I couldn't explain it to them, and I didn't want to talk to you about it, either… I was too afraid."

"But now... the day has finally come. They've come for you."

Aunt Petunia gripped Harry's hand tightly, her eyes filled with overwhelming sorrow.

"And my parents," Harry paused for a moment. "How did they really die?"

"Voldemort."

"Who?!" Harry's brow furrowed.

"A dark wizard, a terrorist. A truly terrible man… He killed your parents," Petunia said, her voice hoarse and low.

"Ten years ago, a man named Dumbledore brought you to our home. He told me how your parents died, just as I've said. He also told me that I was your only living relative, and that my sister—before she died—used magic to protect you. As long as you lived with me, that protection would last until you came of age—until you turned seventeen."

"But isn't eighteen the age of adulthood?" Dudley asked, confused.

"That's their age of adulthood," Petunia replied, shaking her head. "They're wizards—different from us."

"It's a dangerous world, Harry."

"My sister died in that world, trying to protect others. She gave her life… She was an incredible person, so talented… Right, Vernon?"

"Yes, she even fixed my watch—the one you gave me," Vernon said, nodding. "I had broken the glass when I fell, but she repaired it."

Vernon glanced toward the bedroom, where the watch was now tucked away, unused because his wrist had grown too large over the years.

"James was a good man too—just a bit reckless. He was probably too young, too hasty, haha!"

Uncle Vernon gave a brief laugh, as if recalling something amusing, though a hint of sadness flickered in his eyes.

"Your parents were brave, Harry. That's why they stood up to fight those evil people."

"I don't know how to properly describe it... magic," Aunt Petunia shuddered. "The magical world is very dangerous—extremely dangerous."

"Then Harry doesn't have to go, does he?" Dudley wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulder, patting his own chest. "We've already planned to go to the Royal Military Academy together!"

"But I have to go, don't I, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked softly, holding her hand and looking into her eyes.

"Yes. Now that they've come for you, Harry, you must go."

"Why, Mom?!" Dudley protested.

"Because this is the only way to protect Harry. Only magic can fight magic. That's what Lily told me years ago. Some things have to be done, and back then, it was her. Now…"

Knock, knock, knock!

The sound of knocking interrupted Aunt Petunia. Harry glanced at the clock in the living room. It was exactly 8 a.m.

The visitor from Hogwarts, as mentioned in the letter, had arrived.

"I'll get it!" Dudley, still stubbornly defiant, marched to the door. He pulled it open, clearly intending to shout at whoever was outside.

But he froze, his expression mirroring the shock Harry had felt earlier.

"This is the Dursley residence, right? Number 4, Privet Drive?"

A booming voice echoed from outside.

(End of Chapter)