Harry Potter: From Baldur's Gate to Hogwarts

The day after leaving the Dursleys, amidst the chirping of birds, a handsome young man with brown long hair, a hooked nose, freckles on his face, and piercing blue eyes woke up on a bench by the lake. He stood up, surveyed his surroundings briefly, and patted the inner pocket of his coat, nodding in satisfaction.

The thousand pounds in the bank card had already been withdrawn by Harry and now rested obediently in the pocket of his undershirt, ready to be spent on breakfast.

After confirming that his disguise spell (a first-level spell capable of completely altering one's appearance) hadn't worn off, Harry casually found an open shop to settle his breakfast. Then, he began strolling while pondering his next moves.

First, he decided against going back to school. On one hand, he wanted to avoid unnecessary trouble by running into Dudley. On the other, regaining his strength as quickly as possible was clearly his top priority now.

However, Uncle Vernon's reaction to magic the night before had left Harry puzzled. That visceral, bone-deep disgust… could it be that Vernon had encountered something similar in the past and had bad memories of it?

With this thought, Harry decided to rent a place in Little Whinging where he could sleep and closely observe Uncle Vernon's family.

"This world's magic… I hope I can find a way back to Baldur's Gate," the handsome young man mused as he headed toward Little Whinging.

***

Meanwhile, far away in an ancient castle, an elderly woman, around seventy or eighty years old, ascended a spiral staircase in haste. She turned a knob, pushed open the door, and hurried into the Headmaster's office.

"Dumbledore! Harry is missing!" Professor Minerva McGonagall, wearing square glasses, her black hair styled in a high bun, and clad in a deep green robe, stormed toward the serene white-bearded old man seated calmly at his desk. He had just finished breakfast and was now playing with his pet phoenix.

"This morning, I went to Arabella to ask about Harry's situation, only to learn that not only has he been skipping school for two days straight, but he's also nowhere to be found! If anything happens to Harry, how will you explain it to James and Lily?"

"Calm yourself, Minerva," Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes exuding calmness. "I've already tasked Severus with the matter. He's experienced in such situations and familiar with the area. Don't worry; we'll find Harry soon."

McGonagall frowned. "You're sending Snape to fetch Harry? But Snape… isn't he…"

"Minerva, trust Severus. I'm confident he'll ensure Harry is safely returned to his aunt and uncle's house," Dumbledore said as he popped a struggling cockroach from a jar into his mouth and chewed contentedly, offering one to Minerva.

"No, thank you. I don't care for cockroach clusters," McGonagall replied, stepping back from the jar. However, knowing Snape was handling the task did alleviate some of her concerns, given her confidence in his abilities.

"Speaking of which, Harry should receive his Hogwarts acceptance letter within the next couple of days," McGonagall said. "Who's handling the delivery? Most of the staff are preoccupied."

"I already have someone who volunteered," Dumbledore said, stuffing a cockroach leg back into his mouth. "Are you sure you won't try one, Minerva?"

Ignoring the offer, McGonagall turned to gaze toward the Forbidden Forest. "You mean Hagrid? But…"

"Don't worry. I trust Hagrid as much as I trust you. He'll manage."

--

At the same time, Severus Snape stood at the doorstep of the Dursleys' house, his face a mask of irritation. Opposite him was a flushed Vernon Dursley, radiating hostility.

"I told you! There are no freaks in this house! That Harry Potter boy left days ago!" Vernon shouted, his neck straining as he glared at the black-robed wizard, as if sheer willpower could make him leave.

Snape, unbothered by Vernon's bluster, simply cast him a cold glance. His right hand subtly gripped his wand.

Just as Vernon was about to regret his insolence, Petunia Dursley appeared, drawn by the commotion. When she saw Snape's face, a flicker of recognition crossed her features. Hesitantly, she asked, "Are you… the Snape who used to come around with Lily when she was young?"

"It's me," Snape replied, his expression softening slightly as he gazed at Petunia's face, faintly reminiscent of Lily. He withdrew his wand into his robes. "It's been a long time, Evans."

"Yes, almost twenty years now," Petunia sighed. "We've all gotten older."

Seeing this odd familiarity between his wife and the wizard, Vernon quickly stepped between them, his attitude growing even more hostile. "Look here, sir. We're a respectable family and don't want anything to do with your kind. Leave our house at once!"

Bound by the International Statute of Secrecy, Snape couldn't use magic openly in front of Muggles. Weighing his options and unwilling to embarrass Lily's sister, he chose to leave for now.

--

As Snape exited the Dursleys' garden, he suddenly sensed a peculiar force attempting to influence his mind. Instinctively, he activated his nearly perfected Occlumency to block it. His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, soon locking onto a young man.

The man, in his early twenties, had brown curly hair, a freckled face, and a hooked nose. Wearing ill-fitting Muggle clothes, he quickly turned away when he noticed Snape looking at him. At the same moment, the mysterious force dissipated.

Realizing the man was the source of the mental intrusion, Snape smirked coldly, tightened his grip on his wand, and followed him.

The two moved from Little Whinging into the nearby woods. After walking a few dozen meters into the forest, the young man stopped in a clearing, and Snape followed suit.

"Sir, I'm just an innocent passerby. Why are you following me?" the young man asked, still facing away.

Snape sneered. "An innocent passerby who casually manipulates others' minds?"

"Ah, that…" The young man raised his right hand, releasing a subtle wave of magical energy. "That was on purpose!" he declared, turning and pointing at Snape as a cold, blue-white beam shot from his finger.

Almost simultaneously, Snape flicked his wand, sending a silent red beam toward the young man.

The two spells collided with the defensive barriers protecting their respective casters.

"A wandless caster. This is going to be a challenge," Snape muttered, his expression darkening as he tightened his grip on his wand.

"Judging by his skill, at least a fourth-circle mage," Harry thought, narrowing his eyes as he focused entirely on the black-robed man before him.