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The Letter of Destiny

Harry had always known his life was different, though he never quite understood why. He lived with his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their spoiled son, Dudley, in a cramped little house on Privet Drive. They treated him more like a burden than family, forcing him to sleep in a tiny cupboard under the stairs, while Dudley had two bedrooms. His uncle and aunt never spoke of his parents, and any questions he asked were met with stern silence or harsh punishment.

Harry's life was miserable. He wore Dudley's oversized hand-me-downs, ate whatever leftovers remained after the family had finished, and was constantly bullied by his cousin and his gang. He had no friends—who would want to be friends with a boy who barely spoke, was always dressed in rags, and seemed to attract trouble like a magnet? Strange things happened around Harry. When Dudley pushed him too hard, Harry somehow found himself on the school roof. When his teacher cut his hair short as punishment, it grew back overnight. Once, when Aunt Petunia tried to force him into an ugly sweater, it shrank to the size of a sock before he could even pull it on.

His uncle and aunt hated anything unusual. They called it nonsense, freakishness. They blamed Harry every time something odd occurred, but he didn't understand how it happened. He only knew that he was different, though he had no idea what it meant.

Then, on a cold morning just before his eleventh birthday, something changed. It started with a single letter, a thick envelope made of parchment, sealed with red wax. It was addressed to:

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

Harry had never received a letter before. His hands trembled as he reached for it, but before he could even touch it, Uncle Vernon snatched it away, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple.

"No letters for you, boy!" he barked, tearing the envelope in half and tossing it into the fire.

Harry stared at the flames, feeling a strange sense of loss. Who would send him a letter? Why was his uncle so desperate to keep it from him?

But the next day, another letter arrived. And another. And another. By the end of the week, dozens of letters came flying through the mail slot, slipping under doors, even appearing inside the house despite the windows being shut. Uncle Vernon was in a frenzy. He nailed shut the letterbox, boarded up the windows, and eventually packed the entire family into the car, driving them far away to escape the mysterious letters.

They ended up in a tiny, abandoned shack on a stormy island. The rain lashed against the windows, and thunder shook the walls. Harry lay awake on the cold floor, counting down the minutes to midnight—his birthday. He had never celebrated before, but this time, something in his heart told him that this night was different.

As the clock struck twelve, a loud BOOM echoed through the shack. The door crashed open, revealing a towering figure. He was massive, with wild hair and a thick beard, and he carried a pink umbrella in one hand.

"Sorry 'bout that," the giant said cheerfully. "Should've knocked, but figured yer lot wouldn't answer."

Uncle Vernon let out a squeak, hiding behind Dudley. Aunt Petunia clutched her robe tightly.

The giant turned to Harry and grinned. "Harry Potter! Blimey, it's good ter see ya. You look just like yer dad, 'cept you got yer mum's eyes."

Harry blinked. "Who—who are you?"

The giant's grin faltered. "Blimey, they didn't tell ya, did they?" He glared at Uncle Vernon. "Of course they didn't. Well, better late than never. Name's Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. And more importantly—yer a wizard, Harry!"

Harry stared, feeling as though the world had shifted beneath his feet.

"A—a wizard?" he echoed.

Hagrid chuckled. "And a right good one, I bet! Once you've been trained, o'course. That's what Hogwarts is for! Best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. And yer already accepted—been waitin' on ya, in fact!"

He handed Harry another letter, identical to the ones that had been destroyed. With shaking hands, Harry opened it.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry's heart pounded. This wasn't a prank. This wasn't a mistake. He was a wizard.

"But—there must be some mistake," Harry stammered. "I mean, I can't be a wizard. I'm just… just Harry."

Hagrid looked at him kindly. "Just Harry? No, no, no. Yer the son of two o' the finest wizards I ever met. James and Lily Potter. Didn't they ever tell ya?"

Harry shook his head.

Hagrid's expression darkened. He shot a furious look at Uncle Vernon. "They didn't tell ya nothin' about who ya really are? About what happened to yer parents?"

Harry's stomach twisted. "They said they died in a car crash."

"A car crash?" Hagrid roared, his face red with anger. "That's the biggest load o' rubbish I ever heard! James and Lily Potter were murdered, Harry. By the darkest wizard of all time—Lord Voldemort."

The name sent a chill through the room. Even Uncle Vernon shivered.

"But… but if he was so powerful, how did I survive?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"That," Hagrid said, "is the mystery. No one's ever survived a curse from Voldemort—except you. That's why yer famous, Harry. That's why they call ya The Boy Who Lived."

Harry felt dizzy. His entire life, he had been nothing—just the unwanted boy in the cupboard. And now he was being told he was famous? A wizard?

A strange warmth filled him. For the first time in his life, something made sense. The strange things that happened around him, the way his aunt and uncle treated him, the letter… this was the truth. His truth.

He looked at Hagrid, determination in his voice.

"So… I'm really a wizard?"

Hagrid grinned. "That's right. And it's time ya came to Hogwarts."

For the first time in his life, Harry felt something he had never known before.

Hope.