Entry: Tuesday, July 27th, 2021

Hagrid. One of the three people involved in dumping me on the Dursleys’ doorstep all those years ago.

He broke down the door today. It wasn’t the door to the house- no, a little wooden hut on a rock. Started insisting I’m a wizard.

I’m not. I’m a mage, thank you very much.

When I told him what I think of wizards, he flew into a rage.

Then he waved his umbrella above his head. I think the last word he was going to say was ‘me’, but it kinda got lost when Helia slapped him. One moment Hagrid was standing there and looking very threatening- looking, not feeling, Helia always has my back right when I need her the most- and the next, Helia was in his face.

Briefly. I think she was there for about a quarter of a second before she slapped him so hard the hut acquired a new window.

Then she landed, and turned to ask me if I was okay, like she does that every day.

The funniest part was the Dursleys. Vernon looked one word away from a heart attack, but Petunia was looking like Christmas came early. And Dudley? Ever since Helia slapped him across the face at the perfect moment to send him tumbling down four full flights of stairs just days after she first appeared, he’s been deathly afraid of girls of all shapes and sizes. So of course, with the combined fears of Hagrid, Helia, and the collapsing hut, he just passed out.

Then Helia looked up at the collapsing ceiling and clicked her tongue.

The ceiling was afraid of her. The Hut sprang back together- albeit with a new window, now nicely glass-paned and with an ornately-carved windowsill- and into far finer condition than it was in when we arrived. Vernon roared- in anger and fear, I think, since he’s also deathly afraid of Helia, though not of other girls- then dragged Petunia and Dudley into the other room, and closed the door.

Helia snorted, turned the couch into a bedazzled, fit-for-a-king four-poster bed with a wave of her hand, and bade me good night.

When I had finished climbing into bed, she turned out the lights. Did I mention that when she clicked her tongue at the ceiling, she also turned on the lights that the hut hadn’t had before?

I didn’t know it yet, and wouldn’t find out until morning, but the Dursleys had found not the moth-eaten bed they’d expected in the other room, but rather three dingy cots, very similar to the one I slept on in the cupboard under the stairs. Amusingly, whichever one Petunia climbed onto became a comfortable bed… sized for one. And only for as long as she was lying on it. The other two had to deal with scratchy cots. She seemed to think it was hilarious when she told me over breakfast- and exactly the kind of thing her sister would do.

That my mother would do.

That, now that I’m thinking about it, Helia would do. She must be similar to my mother.

Before she left, though, Helia told me one thing, and it reminded me of the first words she’d ever spoken to me, right after smashing Vernon.

“Remember to ask Gringotts about your Estate Guardian.”

That first time, way back when, it was rather toneless- almost like a robot. Now? Her tone was dead serious. I get the idea that asking Gringotts about my Estate Guardian will enable her to be there for me in even more ways than she already is, and it’s the only way to do that.

So I will. I will ask Gringotts about my Estate Guardian. Whatever it is. And whoever Gringotts is.

Entry: Wednesday, July 28th, 2021

Okay, I forgot to return last night to write about what happened throughout the day. And to be fair, every other time I’ve tried to make a record, Vernon or Dudley would always destroy it. This diary Helia gave me is different- it’s in my hand when I want it, and gone when I don’t. And if Vernon tries to take it, it’s like he’s trying to lift- or move- Thor’s Hammer.

It doesn’t work.

… At least a part of that was Helia’s hand clamped around his wrist. The rest was probably that he passed out when she so much as looked at him funny. While holding his wrist.

In any case, once Vernon got over his extra fainting spell yesterday, we left the hut- which now looked more like a mansion- and walked across the bridge back to shore, as the rowboat was basically sunken. Probably a good thing, since Helia is about the only reason we made it to the hut in the first place- she said we would’ve sunk three times over without her intervention.

Once we crossed the bridge, we watched Helia pack it into her sports bag, wave, and disappear. Then, once Petunia roused Dudley- he ran headfirst into the side of the car, left a big dent, and managed to knock himself out- we were on the road again.

So last night, we spent the night at a hotel. The only rooms they had left were singles- and by hotel policy, we couldn’t double up.

At all.

It seemed strange to me, and even stranger to Petunia unless I read her wrong, but Vernon didn’t even seem to notice. I think he’s become rather unhinged over the whole letters thing- I haven’t read a single one yet, and I still won’t until they send it properly!

And sending a full one hundred and ninety-two letters to my room this morning, and yes I counted, with precisely zero stamps adorning their corners, does not count.

I had them all neatly stacked on my table.

So when someone knocked on my door and, while Vernon’s door was open next door, introduced herself as Professor McGonagall… I promptly labeled her the ‘letter disposal service’.

The look on her face was hilarious.

When she saw the letters on the table, the look on her face was terrifying. She waved a stick at them to make them disappear, said some very stern words that I couldn’t catch through her accent, and left to go find whoever she’d aimed those words at. I didn’t even have to refuse to go!

Entry: Thursday, July 29th, 2021

We stayed in an AirBnB last night. The pile of letters on the doormat was so tall I asked Vernon if we needed a bulldozer to get out. The man that came to invite me to Hogwarts was so small he was shorter than Helia, and she’s shorter than me. He rolled his eyes at the pile, made it disappear, and said the Hogwarts invitation magic must be malfunctioning.

He then handed me a letter. No stamp.

I handed it right back. Told him no.

He argued.

I told him that I couldn’t be bothered to read anything sent by an idiot like Dumbledore- because it’s in his name: Dumb-le-door. Or maybe double door… that he got shut in. But anyways, this man- a Professor Flitwick- eventually accepted my answer and left.

Entry: Friday, July 30th, 2021

We went home last night. The house was completely undamaged, like the letter-firebombs from last week never happened. What a week it has been! Anyways, this morning, Albus Dumbledore, the Crackpot Old Fool himself, has set what has to be a world record for the number of carving knives simultaneously embedded to the hilt in his body.

I… don’t think that’s what he set out to do. But that’s not the point.

Vernon slept in today. Dumbledore had already gotten burned and vanished by the time he got up, so when he got downstairs, Petunia was helping me burn all seven hundred and sixty-eight letters that showed up today. Seriously, where do these things keep coming from?

Anyways, I had just finished counting them when the Fool arrived. Didn’t even knock, he simply opened the door like he lived here.

He got as far as saying “Harry my-” before Helia got to him.

I’m not sure where she found eighty carving knives, but it took her about a half a second to embed every single one of them in his body, right down to the hilt. Then she picked him up, slammed him down on the floor, conjured a large stock pot full of boiling oil out of nowhere, and poured it on him. I know it was boiling because it sizzled when it touched him- though when it ran over Helia’s feet, she ignored it completely.

But that’s to be expected. She can throw Vernon and Hagrid around like a giant playing with baby toys, so why shouldn’t she be able to ignore a little bit of boiling oil?

Then the Fool vanished into thin air, much like Helia always does, and the knives, oil, and pot all vanished with him. Helia asked if I was okay, and once again reminded me to ask about my Estate Guardian.

I promised her I would. She seemed amused when I asked her who Gringotts is, but didn’t answer.

Entry: Saturday, July 31st, 2021

Only one letter showed up for me today. It was still made of parchment, but it was addressed with black ink rather than green, and it had a stamp.

So I read it. Vernon slept in again, so I didn’t even need to hurry.

It was apparently from the Ministry of Magic or some such, as an automated message sent to me because I had failed to select a magic school, and I should expect someone to visit within the next few days to help me do so.

When I asked why I would have to choose a magic school, Helia appeared out of nowhere and told me the law requires every witch, wizard, and mage to get at least a bare minimum level of magical education… and that I haven’t yet met that requirement. She had to go because she had, and I quote, ‘some strings to pull’.

And she once again reminded me to ask about my Estate Guardian. I asked her what an Estate Guardian was this time, but she was gone before I finished the question.

Author's Note

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Helia is teasing Harry, isn't she?