Your comments, reviews, and votes really help me out so much and they make me super motivated to keep working on this story! Thank you! Pat**on : ilham20
Looking at Harry in front of him—and the room behind him—Viktor could tell at a glance that the Boy Who Lived wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms in his aunt's house.
Still, aside from looking a bit down in the dumps, things weren't terrible. At least Harry had his own room, enough to eat, and clothes that fit.
Viktor could understand. It was 1992, after all. Harry was still an orphan living under someone else's roof. Raising a baby to this age in good health wasn't exactly easy.
As for why Dumbledore never stepped in to improve Harry's living conditions… Viktor figured the old man probably thought "healthy and alive is already good enough."
Back when Dumbledore was young, kids were still growing up inside chimneys in Britain, after all.
Okay, bad joke.
Truthfully, while Viktor could intellectually understand the situation, his previous-life upbringing made it hard to stomach.
But that wasn't the point right now.
What mattered was the faint magical fluctuation he'd sensed the moment he arrived.
Under Petunia's mix of fearful and curious gaze, Viktor drew his wand.
In Harry's startled eyes, he gave it a single flick.
The next instant, a cascade of letters materialised above Harry's tiny bed—dozens of envelopes fluttering down like autumn leaves.
The moment Harry saw them, recognition flashed across his face. He rushed forward and began snatching them up, reading frantically.
By the time he finished the last one, tears were streaming down his cheeks. He clutched the stack to his chest and sobbed.
"Waaah… everyone still remembers me… I thought they'd all forgotten…"
Watching the crying boy, Viktor's gaze softened.
He reached over and gently ruffled Harry's messy black hair. Beside him, Tom—ever the gentleman—pulled a pristine white handkerchief from… somewhere… and offered it with a polite little bow.
"Thank you, Professor… and you too, Tom," Harry managed between sniffles. "If you hadn't come, I don't know what I would've done. I haven't received a single letter all this time."
"It's alright now," Viktor said calmly. "I'm pretty sure the one intercepting your mail was a house-elf. He bolted the second I showed up—probably some pure-blood family's idea of a prank. Here—I'll leave you this pocket watch. If he comes back, it'll notify me immediately."
He rummaged briefly in the suitcase, fished a silver pocket watch out of Mac's pouch (the Niffler squeaked in protest), tapped it once with his wand, and handed it to Harry.
"There. Problem solved. I'll be off now. Oh—and Harry? Don't forget to do your summer homework. We'll see you at Hogwarts."
With a casual wave, Viktor turned toward the stairs, Tom trotting after him.
Behind them, Tom gave Harry one last cheerful wave, pointed at the pocket watch in the boy's hand, then thumped his own chest proudly—as if to say I've got your back.
Harry clutched his friends' letters tightly in one arm and the silver watch in the other. He waved goodbye with all his strength at the retreating backs.
"Thank you, Professor! Thank you, Tom! I'll do my homework properly!"
As they passed through the living room, Viktor reached into the suitcase once more and set a thick stack of hardcover books on the Dursleys' dining table.
He turned to the bewildered Petunia, who had followed them downstairs.
"Thank you for your understanding, Mrs Dursley."
Petunia watched Viktor's departing figure, then her eyes drifted—almost against her will—to the pile of brand-new books on the table.
They looked freshly printed, still carrying the faint scent of ink.
The covers featured all sorts of fantastical creatures.
She opened the top one. A neat line of handwriting greeted her:
Welcome to the Magical World of Creatures! — Viktor Scamander
Petunia let out a small, involuntary gasp.
Because the moment she finished reading the words aloud (quietly, to herself), a fuzzy little creature with a duck-like bill rolled right out of the sentence on the page.
It tilted its head curiously at her, then began rummaging happily in the pouch on its belly—pulling out shiny gold coins.
Entranced despite herself, Petunia kept turning pages…
...
After leaving Number 4 Privet Drive, Viktor glanced back at the ordinary two-storey house.
He scratched his chin, then raised his wand toward the building.
"Safe Ward."
"Stranger Repel."
A faint golden barrier shimmered into existence around the house, then faded into transparency.
At the same time, an invisible ripple spread outward across the area.
This was one of the Scamander family's inherited spells—a specialised variant of the Muggle-Repelling Charm, tuned to confuse and deter a specific target.
Normally used to protect endangered magical flora and fauna reserves by driving off natural predators.
Today, Viktor had keyed it specifically to house-elves.
"There. That little elf won't bother Harry anymore."
"But just intercepting letters… probably another pure-blood kid's prank. Tch. Kids these days have such boring ideas for mischief."
Shaking his head, Viktor led Tom away. Destination: the best French restaurant in London.
...
Back at Number 4, while Viktor and Tom were gone, Petunia found herself completely absorbed in the world of magical creatures.
Harry, meanwhile, shut his cupboard door and eagerly re-read every letter from his friends—several times each.
Then he sat down and wrote replies at lightning speed.
In them, he poured out how miserable he'd felt thinking everyone had forgotten him.
He described Professor Viktor's arrival and how easily the problem had been fixed.
And he included his strong suspicion that it had all been Malfoy—that git—getting his family's house-elf to play a nasty trick.
When Hedwig soared off with the letters, Harry let out a long, relieved breath.
Then, curiously, he picked up the silver pocket watch Viktor had given him.
It didn't look brand new. The cover was engraved with a snarling honey badger standing triumphantly on a crushed little snake.
Harry couldn't help grinning at the image. He loved it.
"Hmm… looks like Professor Viktor is a Hufflepuff. No wonder he's so kind."
With that thought, he pressed the button.
Click.
The watch sprang open.
The next instant—with a startled yelp—Harry was sucked straight inside.
The pocket watch clattered gently onto the bed.
Harry rubbed his head, blinking in confusion as he stood up from a thick, cushioned mat.
In front of him was a small wooden cabin—maybe twenty square metres.
No windows. The only light came from dozens of tiny, twinkling orbs floating near the ceiling like miniature stars.
Directly opposite him stood six extremely crude wooden training dummies—rough-hewn logs stacked into humanoid shapes.
To one side: a sturdy desk.
To the other: an enormous, ridiculously comfortable-looking bed.
After a quick look around, Harry spotted a sheet of parchment on the desk.
Harry,
Consider this your welcome gift. It used to be one of my old secret bases—remodelled from a Sneakoscope. Hope you like it.
— Viktor