Chapter 4: The Stormborn’s Arrival

Vernon Dursley sat at the head of the dining table, his large frame taking up most of the space. The room was filled with the clinking of cutlery and the occasional grunt of satisfaction as he shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth. Across from him, Petunia Dursley nibbled delicately on a piece of toast, her sharp eyes darting around the room as if searching for something to criticize. Dudley, their son, was busy devouring his third helping of bacon, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk's.

In the corner of the room, Harry Potter stood by the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced hand. His unruly black hair stuck up in every direction, and his glasses were slightly fogged from the heat. He moved quietly, trying to stay out of sight and out of mind.

The Dursleys were having a perfectly normal morning—or at least, as normal as it could be with Harry around. That was, until the doorbell rang.

Vernon frowned, his bushy mustache twitching in annoyance. "Who could that be at this hour?" he grumbled, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape.

Petunia sniffed. "Probably one of those door-to-door salesmen. Don't let them in, Vernon. They're nothing but trouble."

Vernon ignored her and stomped to the door, his face already set in a scowl. He yanked it open, ready to give whoever was on the other side a piece of his mind. But the words died in his throat as he took in the sight before him.

Standing on the doorstep was a boy—no older than eleven, with dark hair that fell in messy waves around his pale face. His amber eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, and he wore a dark cloak that seemed to shift and ripple like shadows. In one hand, he held a small, unassuming suitcase.

The boy looked up at Vernon, his expression calm but weary. "Will you let me in?" he asked, his voice soft but steady. "I've been traveling through a storm for four days. I need some rest. The storm guided me here."

Vernon blinked, his scowl faltering. There was something about the boy—something that made him pause. He couldn't explain it, but he felt an inexplicable urge to let the boy in.

"Uh… sure," Vernon said, stepping aside. "Come in, then."

The boy nodded and stepped into the house, his cloak trailing behind him like a living shadow. Vernon closed the door and followed him into the dining room, where Petunia and Dudley were staring at the newcomer with wide eyes.

"Vernon, who is this?" Petunia asked, her voice sharp.

Before Vernon could answer, the boy spoke. "Hello," he said, his amber eyes scanning the room. "I am Kael Stormborn. The storm guided me here."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Petunia's eyes narrowed. "Stormborn? What kind of name is that? And what do you mean, the storm guided you here?"

Kael didn't answer. Instead, his gaze landed on Harry, who was still standing by the stove, a spatula in hand. Kael's eyes widened slightly, and he pointed at Harry.

"You," he said, his voice filled with quiet certainty. "The storm led me to you."

Harry blinked, lowering the spatula. "Me?"

Vernon's face turned red. "Now see here, boy! We don't have time for nonsense. If you're here to cause trouble—"

"I'm not," Kael interrupted, his voice calm but firm. "I'm here because I need to be. The storm brought me here for a reason."

Petunia stood up, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Vernon, I don't like this. He's clearly one of those… those freaks."

Kael's gaze flicked to Petunia, and for a moment, his amber eyes seemed to glow brighter. "I'm not a freak," he said quietly. "I'm a Stormborn. And I'm here to help."

The room fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Vernon opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Kael's suitcase let out a soft click. The lid popped open, and a small, sleek creature leaped out, landing gracefully on the floor.

It was Ruka, the Nundu cub. His golden eyes scanned the room, and he let out a soft growl that made Dudley yelp and scramble backward in his chair.

"What is that thing?" Petunia shrieked, pointing at Ruka.

Kael knelt down and placed a hand on Ruka's head. "This is Ruka. He's my companion."

Harry stared at the cub, his green eyes wide with wonder. "He's… amazing," he said softly.

Kael looked at Harry again, his expression softening. "You can see him, can't you? Really see him."

Harry nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. I can."

Vernon, meanwhile, looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "That's it! I've had enough of this nonsense! You, boy—out! And take that… that thing with you!"

Kael stood, his amber eyes locking with Vernon's. "I can't leave," he said simply. "Not yet. The storm brought me here for a reason, and I need to find out what it is."

For a moment, Vernon looked like he was about to argue. But then something strange happened. He hesitated. It was as if an unseen force was compelling him to listen, to let the boy stay.

"Fine," Vernon muttered, though he didn't sound happy about it. "But you're not staying long. And that… that creature stays outside."

Kael nodded, though his expression made it clear he had no intention of following that particular rule. He turned to Harry, his gaze intense.

"We need to talk," he said.

Harry nodded, his curiosity outweighing his confusion. "Okay."

As Kael and Harry left the dining room, Ruka trotting behind them, the Dursleys sat in stunned silence.

"What just happened?" Dudley asked, his voice trembling.

Petunia shook her head, her face pale. "I don't know, Dudders. But I don't like it. Not one bit."

Vernon didn't say anything. He just sat there, staring at the spot where Kael had stood, a strange feeling settling in his chest—a feeling he couldn't quite explain.