Reborn As A Squib In Harry potter

It took a few hours to give a barebones overview of wizarding society, from the Statue of Secrecy, to the local magical government and education system, to what I knew of the rest of the magical world outside of England's borders.

By the time my explanation was over, both Sam and Harry eyes had glazed over as they tried to process the deluge of information I'd delivered to them.

"Holy shit," Sam finally uttered. "A whole world full of dragons and witches and magical shit that'd make Gygax froth at the mouth… and it's been hidden under our noses this whole time for centuries?"

"That's how it is," I said. "Again, remember what I said about the Obliviators wiping your mind if you go around spreading this stuff. That's part of how they've kept themselves secret for so long."

"Yeah, okay," Sam said with a nervous laugh. "Who'd even believe me, anyways?"

"That's the spirit!" I said with faux-cheerfulness. I then glanced at Harry. "How about you? Any questions?"

"Why…" he muttered softly. "Why was I never told? About any of this? Why was I left with the Dursleys all this time?"

"Ah, that question doesn't have an easy answer. Nor is it one you'll like," I said with a wince. "Where to start…"

"The beginning, perhaps?" Sam said snarkily, some of his former easy-going attitude surfacing once more.

"It begins over a decade ago, when the terrorist known as the Dark Lord Voldemort led his group, the Death Eaters, on a crusade to murder those they saw as 'impure,'" I said darkly. "To them, the 'impure' were anyone who wasn't a full-blooded user of magic. The older the family, and the longer the magical lineage, the better. Think Nazis but with a feudalistic bent."

"They rampaged for years across England. You might remember some of the things they did from the news," I said to Sam. "The Kent Explosion, the Collapse of Avon-on-Brightly's bridge, the mutilated corpses found in their homes, and the sinking of the tourist ferry, The Princess, were all done by the Death Eaters."

"That was them?!" Sam demanded angrily.

"Yes, it was, and many more," I said darkly. "But some of the worst of their atrocities were done in the dark against their own people. Against magicals who opposed them and weren't the 'right sort.' But one day, all of their rampages came to a screeching halt when they attacked a certain family. The Potters."

"My parents?" Harry whispered.

"Yes. James and Lily Potter were a young married couple, and they were part of a group who fought against the Death Eaters. They were brave and opposed the Dark Lord directly, even fighting him off a couple times," I revealed. "This was an insult Voldemort could not – and would not – let stand. And so, he attacked your parents at their hideout."

"They fought him, but sadly, were no match for his power, worse, was that it was a surprise attack and a betrayal, for their hiding place had been given up by someone they'd trusted with their lives," I said, and Harry and Sam both leaned in, enraptured by my words. "James was the first to die. And then, in front of your crib, your mother tried to defend you from him. Voldemort murdered her, and then planned on finishing off the Potter bloodline once and for all by killing you."

I sighed heavily. "Somehow, you survived. Against literally all odds, the Killing Curse, which can destroy and kill anything, did not affect you. And though no one knows how or why, the Dark Lord was destroyed. Blown up, somehow. Likely from his own curse rebounding onto him when it failed to kill you. His entire body was vaporized, though you were unharmed. All it left was that scar on your head."

Harry unconsciously reached up to touch the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead at that revelation.

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