Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model

The weather in Britain is always fickle. It had been bright and sunny in the morning, but by evening, the skies opened up in a downpour.

Far from London, out on the open sea, a massive reef jutted up from the waves, topped by a small, rickety shack that looked ready to collapse under the weight of the storm. Inside, the biting wind whistled through cracks in the wooden walls, sending shivers down the spines of the four people huddled together in the cramped, dim room. Despite the freezing cold, tension thickened the air.

"You're looking at a pack of stupid lies!" Vernon Dursley roared, his face purple with rage. "Now, hand over that blasted letter!"

Opposite him stood a skinny boy with round glasses and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. In his hands, he clutched an opened envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest.

Harry Potter's expression was one of shock and bewilderment. "Is this what you've been hiding from me?" he asked, frowning as he reread the letter. "A... letter of admission to a school of magic?"

"Shut up!" Uncle Vernon shrieked, his voice strained and unnatural. His face turned a darker shade of purple as he glared at Harry. "There is no such thing as magic in this world!" He took a step forward, holding out a meaty hand. "Give me that bloody letter, and we'll go home. Now!"

"No!" Harry shook his head firmly, clutching the letter to his chest. "It's mine!"

Uncle Vernon's fury boiled over. No matter how far he dragged them, that wretched owl had managed to find them. Worse, it was unlike any owl he'd ever seen. Enormous, scar-faced, and with wings that spread wide like some monstrous creature, it had landed directly on their boat. Vernon had barely managed to keep from screaming. He'd tried to shoo it away, even reaching for the rifle he'd bought for protection—but before he could aim, the owl seized the gun in its sharp talons and tossed it into the sea. It had then settled on the boat, staring them down with its scarred face, talons digging deep, menacing scratches into the wood.

Monster!

That owl was as much a freak as these unnatural people Vernon despised. His mind reeled. But thankfully, it had flown off after Harry took the letter. If he could just destroy it… if he could just rip it up, it wouldn't be too late.

"Give it to me!" Vernon roared, lunging at Harry, desperate to snatch the letter from him.

Harry turned and bolted around the small room, evading Vernon's grasp with surprising agility. Vernon, red-faced and stumbling, found himself unable to catch the smaller boy, who darted through the cramped space with ease. But the room was small, and as soon as Aunt Petunia and Dudley joined in, the numbers soon overwhelmed Harry. Within moments, they'd managed to pin him down.

"Give me the letter!" Vernon growled as he tried to pry Harry's hands open. Panting and furious, he struggled to pull Harry's arm down. Just as he felt his fingers closing around the parchment—

Boom!

A deafening bang on the door shook the entire shack, freezing everyone in place. They stared at the door, terror etched across their faces.

Boom!

Another powerful blow rattled the door on its hinges.

Dudley whimpered, clutching Aunt Petunia in terror. "Something's trying to get in!"

"Who's there?" Uncle Vernon called out, his voice shaking despite his attempt at anger. "I'm warning you—I've… I've called the police! You're trespassing!"

Silence fell outside, followed by the sound of a bolt sliding back.

The door creaked open, and a towering figure filled the doorway.

"Could I trouble you for a cup of hot tea? This was a long trip…" Hagrid asked as he ducked into the tiny shack, struggling to fit his massive frame inside. He carefully set the door back on its hinges as he entered. "Pouring with rain out there. If I'd listened to Kyle, I would've just taken the Knight Bus… Anyway, what are you doing on the floor?"

He bent down, offering a hand to Harry with a warm smile. "You must be Harry."

Harry looked up into Hagrid's rough, unshaven face and couldn't help but smile back. He sensed right away that this man was friendly.

"The last time I saw you, you were just a baby," Hagrid said, grinning. "You look a lot like your dad, but you've got your mum's eyes."

Uncle Vernon let out a strangled noise, as if he'd stepped on something sharp, and his face turned a blotchy shade of purple. He glared at Hagrid, clearly wanting him out of the shack, but realizing he had no way of forcing him to leave.

"Get out, you great oaf!" he shouted.

Hagrid ignored Vernon's shouting and, with a casual flick of his hand, lit the fireplace. No one saw how he did it, but in an instant, flames roared to life, casting a warm glow across the room and banishing the damp chill.

"Feels better, eh, Harry?" Hagrid asked, his smile softening as he looked at Harry. "Much warmer, yeah?"

"Yes," Harry said, his cheeks flushing a bit. "Thank you. But… I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."

"Just call me Hagrid, everyone does," he replied kindly. "I'm the Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts. You know about Hogwarts, don't you?"

"The wizarding school?" Harry asked, glancing down at the letter still clutched in his hand.

"Exactly! So, you've already got your letter." Hagrid reached into his coat, feeling for an identical envelope, though there was no longer any need to pull it out.

"It was delivered by an owl. The biggest bird I've ever seen," Harry said, eyebrows raised. "Landed right on our boat."

"Oh, that's Sa—well, he's called Ratton now," Hagrid said with a chuckle, pulling a greasy, slightly charred sausage off the fire poker and offering it to Harry.

"Ratton? That's the owl's name?" Harry asked, taking the sausage. He took a tentative bite, then his eyes widened as he tasted the rich, savory flavor. He couldn't remember anything ever tasting so good.

"Yes, he's quite fond of it," Hagrid said, his expression briefly tinged with a hint of sadness. But just as quickly, he snapped back to his usual cheer, so that no one—not even Harry—noticed the momentary lapse.

"Oh, nearly forgot... Happy birthday, Harry!" Hagrid reached into his coat and pulled out a slightly squashed brown paper box. "I'm afraid it might be a bit flattened, but it still tastes delicious."

"For me?" Harry asked, astonished. Was he actually receiving a birthday gift?

He carefully opened the box to reveal a large slice of buttercream cake. The cake was a bit flattened, the green icing on top smudged against the box, but he could still make out "Happy Birthday" and his name in faint letters.

"Go on, give it a try," Hagrid encouraged, watching him closely.

Harry took a small bite of the cream and treacle filling, and a burst of sugary sweetness exploded on his tongue. It was overwhelmingly sweet—sweeter than anything he'd tasted before, almost like a jar of sugar condensed into a single bite.

"And here," Hagrid added, placing a toffee beside the cake, "a little something extra."

"Candy?!" Harry's eyes brightened, though he set it aside for later, having already been hit with enough sweetness. Dudley, who was sitting close by, stared at the cake with longing, his stomach audibly growling.

"Don't you dare let him eat anything, Dudley!" barked Uncle Vernon, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at Hagrid. "Listen here—I'm not spending good money to send him off to learn card tricks and juggling!"

Hagrid let out a low, mocking laugh. Harry Potter missing out on Hogwarts because of a lack of Galleons? The idea was absurd.

But Uncle Vernon, unaware of Hagrid's amusement, continued his tirade, railing on and on. Meanwhile, Harry noticed something he hadn't realized before: his aunt and uncle had known about the wizarding world all along, yet they'd kept it hidden from him.

Suddenly, a strangled scream shattered the room.

Aunt Petunia was clutching Dudley tightly, eyes wide with horror as his tongue began to swell uncontrollably. In seconds, it stretched to a grotesque length, flopping out of his mouth, nearly four feet long.

Uncle Vernon, forgetting his argument with Hagrid, rushed over to Dudley, frantically trying to shove the swollen tongue back into his mouth. Dudley groaned and covered his mouth, writhing in pain as his family descended into panic.

Hagrid looked from Dudley to his pink umbrella, completely baffled. Had he accidentally cast a spell?

But no… he hadn't done anything at all. So how had the boy's tongue started swelling like that?

Could it be that the broken wand inside his umbrella had somehow backfired? That had never happened before!

Meanwhile, Harry watched the scene in utter amazement. There was no denying it now; magic was real. He hadn't even seen what Hagrid had done, yet here was Dudley, transformed and helpless.

Magic was incredible—and in that moment, Harry was sure of it. And this towering, kind man who was Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts? He had to be a truly powerful wizard!