In the living room bathed in morning sunlight, Larry Potter stood before two robed figures, his hand still holding a parchment scroll with the Hogwarts seal. Beside him, Hermione watched him with attentive eyes, her fingers trembling slightly with excitement and confusion.
On the sofa, Dumbledore gazed at Larry, his blue eyes shining through crescent-moon spectacles, filled with warmth and a trace of unreadable emotion.
"Larry, you look so much like your parents," Dumbledore said, his voice soft but heavy with meaning, as if recalling something long buried.
Larry lowered his head, his bright green eyes, like spring leaves, closing for a moment.
"I'm sorry, sir," he replied, his tone laced with a sadness that felt genuine. "I never knew my parents. I was raised in an orphanage. If it weren't for the Grangers, I might still be there, counting the days without knowing who I am."
He paused, taking a slow breath, as if holding back an unspoken weight. Inwardly, he smirked. 'Let's see how far this old bee will test me,' he thought.
He knew Dumbledore was more than a headmaster—he was a legendary wizard who could see beyond appearances.
Suddenly, a strange sensation crept into his mind, like someone trying to open a locked door.
The mechanical voice echoed in his head, cold yet reassuring.
The corner of Larry's mouth nearly twitched, but he held it back. 'This old bee is really using magic to peek into my mind?' he thought, half-admiring, half-annoyed.
Fortunately, the strange system that awakened years ago always protected him, crafting perfect false memories—an optimistic orphan, full of hope despite a hard life.
'If Harry can be the tragic hero, I can act too, Dumbledore.'
His face remained innocent, his eyes meeting Dumbledore's with a blank expression, as if unaware of what had just happened.
Dumbledore stared back, and for a moment, a flicker of apology appeared in his blue eyes.
"My boy," Dumbledore said, his voice softer now, "your parents were remarkable wizards. James, your father, was brave and clever. Lily, your mother, was full of love and talent. They never left you on purpose."
Larry nodded slowly, as if absorbing the words.
"Really?" he asked, his tone tinged with crafted cynicism. "Great wizards just abandon their kids? When I was found in the yard, all I had was this."
He reached into his collar, pulling out a thin red cord with a small silver tag inscribed with "Larry."
"It's all I know about them."
Dumbledore stared at the silver tag, his eyes widening briefly before returning to calm.
"They didn't abandon you, Larry," he said, his voice heavy. "They sacrificed their lives to protect you… and your sibling."
Larry opened his mouth, feigning shock, but inwardly, he sighed.
He already knew this truth—vague memories of that night, when his mother stood before him, the cold green light, and the explosion that threw him into the yard.
But hearing it from Dumbledore, with a tone full of regret, made his chest tighten, whether from his act or something more real.
"Sacrifice…" Larry murmured, his eyes reddening, small tears pooling at the corners.
He looked down, letting a few tears fall to the wooden floor, their glint flickering in the sunlight. 'Perfect,' he thought, but a small part of his heart genuinely ached.
Dumbledore fell silent, his eyes glistening for a moment.
He began to speak, his voice low but clear, recounting a brief tale of that tragic night—how James and Lily fought a dark wizard to protect their children, giving everything to keep two little boys safe.
He didn't share complex details, just enough to make the story feel real without being frightening.
McGonagall, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.
"Larry, your parents were heroes," she said, her voice firm yet gentle. "James was full of courage, always making us laugh at Hogwarts. Lily… she was a gifted witch with a warm heart. You've inherited their spirit."
Larry wiped his eyes, his voice trembling. "If they were still here, I wouldn't care if they were heroes or not. I just wanted them to be… my parents."
His words were simple but shook the room, silencing everyone.
Mrs. Granger, with neatly tied brown hair, looked at him with glistening eyes.
Mr. Granger, his foster father, let out a heavy sigh, his hand squeezing his wife's shoulder.
Hermione stepped closer, her small but strong hand grasping Larry's. "Larry, you have us," she said, her voice full of determination despite a slight quiver. "Me, Mum, Dad—we're your family now."
Feeling the warmth of her hand, Larry gave a small smile, though tears still streaked his cheeks. "Thank you, Hermione," he murmured, his voice soft.
He turned to her, his smile slightly crooked, enough to make Hermione's cheeks flush faintly.
Even in a moment like this, his charm worked—perhaps because of the strange system, or maybe because he simply knew how to make people feel special.
Dumbledore watched them both, his eyes shining with an emotion hard to define. "Love is the greatest power," he said, almost as if speaking to himself.
Then he turned to Larry. "Larry, you asked about your sibling. He's alive. His name is Harry, and he lives in the non-magical world, as you once did."
Larry took a deep breath, his eyes widening. "He's… alive?" he asked, his voice filled with crafted hope that sounded genuine. "Can I meet him?"
"Of course," Dumbledore replied, smiling. "But not now. There are things you both must do first—you and Hermione need to prepare for Hogwarts. Today, we'll go to Diagon Alley to buy your school supplies."
Larry nodded, his face showing a hint of disappointment, but inwardly, he knew this wasn't the time. 'Harry Potter,' he thought. 'My brother, the tragic hero of the wizarding world. I wonder what he's like.'
But for now, he had to focus on the next step—and perhaps, the chance to test his charm in a much bigger world.
"Alright, Professor," Larry said, his voice steady again. "I'm ready."
"Excellent, Larry," Dumbledore said, rising from the sofa.
He reached into his robes, pulling out a gold pocket watch that gleamed in the sunlight. "This is a Portkey. It will take us to London."
Larry took the watch, feeling its strange weight in his hand. "What do I do?" he asked, eyeing the watch with half-feigned curiosity.
"Simple," Dumbledore replied, gesturing for the Granger family to gather and hold the watch. "Hold on tight, and… Portus."
The word echoed, and the world suddenly spun.
Larry felt as if he were being pulled into a vortex, his body light yet dizzy.
He heard a small yelp from Hermione beside him, her hand gripping his arm tightly.
Seconds later, their feet landed on a hard floor, and the smell of dust and old ale filled the air.
Larry opened his eyes, and before him stood a shabby building with an old sign reading The Leaky Cauldron.
His eyes sparkled, his hand unconsciously tightening around the watch. 'Diagon Alley,' he thought, his heart racing. 'Now, the adventure truly begins.'