It's not aliens. It's not secret government experiments. Are you ready, earthlings? Hold onto your hats. If you're wearing hats. Do people wear hats that often these days? Never mind, here goes.
I!
AM!
A!
WIZARD!
Let me back up a bit. As you recall, when last you left your intrepid and maybe dashing if you squint hero, someone was knocking menacingly on the door. Vernon and Petunia freaked, which, honestly, I can't blame them for. It really came out of nowhere. The door opened and I swear hand to God, the biggest man I've ever seen in my whole life showed up. This man, and I shit you not, was like what would happen if you combined James Bond and Andre the Giant. He was huge. Maybe seven feet tall! He wore the most incredible and elegant tuxedo, perfectly pressed, and his hair and beard was wild and shaggy.
This man was goals, people.
Vernon had no appreciation for goals. His goal was to be as big a jerk as possible, so he promptly tried to shoot the man. Which, okay, given that he was breaking and entering, I got it, but still, this guy was so cool. Anyway, it didn't work. The man tied Vernon's shotgun into a knot with his bare hands. Just like that! And then he did something even more incredible.
He wished me a happy birthday!
No one's ever wished me happy birthday before in my life! Not even my teachers or peers. I know what you're saying. Harry, this is such a basic thing, Harry, you need therapy, Harry, you have undiagnosed ADHD, you know it, I know it, please get a formal diagnosis. To which I say, I FORGE MY OWN PATH, DWEEBS. Back to this guy, though, he didn't just wish me happy birthday. He had baked me a cake. True, he'd sat on the box at some point and it was all smushed, but it is the thought that counts.
The man proceeded to introduce himself as Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Now I had several questions, such as "what the hell is Hogwarts," "what does a Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts do," "what exactly is the true meaning of the Voynich Manuscript, damn it," and, perhaps most relevantly, "how does this man know who I am?"
"What is the true meaning of the Voynich manuscript?" I asked and then slapped my forehead at letting the wrong question leave my mouth.
"Between subtle shading and the absence of light," Hagrid intoned solemnly, "lies the nuance of illusion." Hagrid lightly tapped me on the back, nearly knocking me to the ground. "But I think what you really want to know is how I know who you are, am I right?"
Hagrid sat down next to me, his face surprisingly gentle for a man so huge. The Dursleys cowered in the corner. I ignored them, though a part of me relished in them finally fearing fear for once. "Your parents were dear friends of mine. Especially your mother. Lily was a force of nature. Unwavering in her beliefs. Fanatical, some said, but there'll always be naysayers." My eyes flickered over at the ultimate naysayers.
"Why am I here?" I demanded.
"We all have a purpose in this life, Harry," Hagrid said. "We're all cogs in the great machine known as Great Britain."
I did a face palm. "No, why am I here with them? If you're such good friends with my parents, why didn't you take me?"
"Oh, well, in my case it's because I have a dangerous job," Hagrid explained. "I work with all sorts of magical creatures. It was no place for a baby."
Well, that made sense, I thought to myself. Then what he had just said to me sunk in fully. "Magical creatures?"
He gave a gentle laugh. "Now, come on, Harry, surely you aren't going to say you don't know nothing about magic." His face turned ashen as my expression must have said it all. He turned to the Dursleys with a thunderous expression. "What did you do?" he snarled.
"Only what we had to!" Petunia screamed in an honestly atypical spike of bravery. As much as I despised her, I gave credit where credit was do: that was an impressive display of courage. And foolishness. But some say those are one and the same. "I wasn't about to let the boy turn out like her! Dead at 21! Killed in some damn fool crusade! It was for his own good to keep magic from the child."
"Oh, is that why you put me in a cupboard?" I snarked. "For my own good?"
Hagrid stomped over to Vernon and Petunia. "You. Did. What?" Before they could answer the question, Hagrid grabbed Petunia by the throat and slammed her against the wall. Petunia clawed at her throat for breath and I genuinely thought she was going to die.
"Hagrid!" I snapped. I hate Petunia, I genuinely despise her, but I was not about to have her blood on my hands. Also, with my luck, the police would probably think I killed her. "Put her down now!"
Thank God, Hagrid listened to me. "You're very lucky Harry takes after his father," he said, his voice simmering with anger. "Lily wouldn't have listened at all."