"I don't know who you are… but you won't take this child from this house," said Vernon with a trembling yet firm voice, trying to hide his fear behind a façade of bravery.
Though he despised Harry with every fiber of his being, he wasn't going to let a stranger—a strange woman with an unsettling aura—just take him away.
"Oh… I'm sorry," Wanda replied with a serene smile, tilting her head slightly. "I didn't ask you."
And with a simple snap of her fingers, Vernon's mouth vanished as if it had never existed.
The burly man tried to speak, to scream, even to breathe through his mouth, but all he could produce were muffled sounds as terror filled his eyes. Petunia, seeing this, let out a blood-curdling scream… which was abruptly cut off when her mouth disappeared as well. The two began running around the living room like headless chickens, crashing into each other and knocking everything over in their path.
"So, Harry?" Wanda asked sweetly, turning her attention back to the boy. "Would you like to come with me?"
Harry looked at his aunt and uncle, running in complete panic, then turned to Wanda. A spark of excitement crossed his eyes. No one had ever offered him a way out before. No one had ever asked him if he wanted something different. And without thinking, he answered:
"Well… yes."
The ease with which he accepted surprised Wanda a little. She had expected resistance, questions—at least hesitation. But if she had known the truth… that the Dursleys had never taught him not to talk to strangers, and might even have encouraged him to leave if it meant getting rid of him… then she would've understood.
"I'll have to teach him a few things…" she thought. Though, to be honest, she wasn't exactly a model of parental guidance herself.
"Go get your things, sweetheart. I'll talk to your… guardians," said Wanda, her voice sweet as honey, yet sharp as a razor.
Harry ran off to his tiny cupboard under the stairs while Wanda raised her hand. Vernon and Petunia, caught in an invisible force, were dragged toward her. They floated just above the floor, trembling, their eyes wide with fear.
"I'm taking Harry," said Wanda, her voice soft but filled with authority. "I'll raise him. And only because you at least fed him and didn't let him die… I won't kill you. But don't think you'll escape punishment for your cruelty."
She turned to Vernon first.
"You, obsessed with being normal. So desperate to seem proper… Well, you'll never be that again."
Vernon began to writhe as his skin twisted and deformed. A thick, twisted horn burst from his forehead. His skin turned scaly, a reptilian tail sprouted from his back, his ears sharpened like blades, and his teeth grotesquely grew inside his sealed, bloody mouth. He let out a muffled roar of pain, collapsing to the floor, writhing like a beast set ablaze.
Then Wanda turned to Petunia.
"And you… you rejected the love of a child. How vile can one be? From now on, no one will love you. Not your son. Not your husband. Not even yourself."
Unlike Vernon, Petunia felt no physical change. No disfigurement. But something inside her shattered. A cold loneliness invaded her, a hollow emptiness she would never be able to fill. Her punishment was invisible… but eternal.
"That will be all for now," said Wanda as she released them, letting them fall like broken dolls. "Later I'll ask Harry if there are more like you… and each one will get what they deserve."
Just then, Harry came out of his small room, carrying an old backpack slung over one shoulder. His eyes lit up when he saw Vernon.
"Wow! That's so cool!" he exclaimed with pure innocence.
Wanda chuckled softly and held out her hand.
"Let's go, Harry."
The boy took it without hesitation. Together, they walked out the front door as if they'd been mother and son all their lives, leaving behind the house that had never been a home.
As they walked along the sidewalk, Wanda frowned for a moment. She felt a gaze watching them from a nearby house. But she ignored it. She had no time for the curious.
Later, they took a taxi to a nearby hotel. After all, Wanda didn't have a home in this world. Or money. Although creating human currency was easy for her, she didn't want to attract too much attention… at least not yet.
The hotel she chose was a four-star one. Okay, maybe she went a little overboard. But Harry deserved it.
She booked a spacious suite with a spectacular view of the city. Upon entering, Harry stood in awe at the luxury: a large living room, two bedrooms, a modern kitchen, and huge windows overlooking a world entirely new to him.
"Is this your house?" he asked in amazement, his eyes wide.
"Haha, no. It's a hotel," Wanda said, crouching in front of him. "But we'll stay here for a while… until we find a nice home for the two of us."
She gently touched his nose, and Harry gave a wide smile.
"Okay!"
"You can go explore, if you want."
"Yes!" Harry shouted, and ran through the suite, inspecting everything with a mix of excitement and curiosity—the rooms, the living area, under the furniture…
Wanda watched him, smiling, until a shadow of melancholy crossed her face. She remembered her own children… their laughter, their voices. The nostalgia pierced her heart like a spear. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn't drown in sorrow. She had to remember them with love… not sadness.
"Miss… can I turn on the TV?" Harry asked timidly.
It was the first time he'd ever been given permission to do so.
"Of course," Wanda replied, sitting on the couch. "You can watch whatever you want. And you can call me Wanda."
"Thank you, Wanda," he said with a sincere smile.
He picked up the remote and started pressing random buttons until the screen came to life.
Wanda watched him. And though her head hurt—perhaps from too much magic, or too many memories—she said nothing. She just smiled.
Because somewhere deep in her soul, that small light that once purified her darkness… was still there.
And Harry, looking at her for the first time, felt—without knowing why—that he was with someone who would never hurt him. As if he had finally found a safe place.
Meanwhile, there were three firm knocks on the door.
KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK…
Wanda frowned, slightly surprised. She hadn't ordered anything, and wasn't expecting anyone. She stood up calmly, though alert, glancing over at Harry, who was giggling softly in front of the TV, flipping through channels with an innocent smile.
She opened the door.
And there he was.
An old man with a peculiar appearance, a long silver beard cascading like a waterfall down to his waist, dressed in robes that looked like they came from a forgotten fairy tale. He smiled kindly, but Wanda only needed a second to feel it.
A wizard.
A real one.
And, to her surprise, a weak one.
"What do you want?" Wanda asked coldly, crossing her arms as she scanned him with her eyes. There was magic in this world, after all. Lily had mentioned something about it, but didn't go into detail… She'd been more worried about protecting her son.
"Good afternoon," the old man greeted, his voice soft and almost musical. "I'm Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. I was wondering if I could speak with you for a few minutes. It's about young Harry Potter."
Wanda blinked slowly.
"What's a Hogwarts?"
"Hogwarts is the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore explained in his calm, didactic tone. "A place where young witches and wizards learn to channel their power and live within our society. It's also said to be the safest place in the magical world."
Wanda stared at him, her expression unchanging. Her gaze was so piercing that even a Basilisk would have looked away.
"And what would the headmaster of such a fine institution want with Harry?"
Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, but continued.
"I've heard what happened with the Dursleys. A transfiguration spell… brilliant, I must admit, though a bit dark for my taste. One I myself couldn't undo. A feat that may bring… complications. From what I understand, you claimed to be a friend of Lily Potter. She, like James, was once my student. And I… I was the one who took Harry to his aunt and uncle's house the day they died…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
"So, you're just as guilty as the Dursleys," Wanda interrupted, and a red vibration, like liquid fire, began to swirl around her.
Dumbledore felt the pressure immediately. It was like standing before a volcano seconds before it erupted. Wanda's energy was like a dragon's roar—ancient, wild, and completely beyond his control.
"Guilty…?" Dumbledore whispered, trying to calm the atmosphere with his gentle voice. "There was a reason for what I did. The Dursleys are his blood…"
"I don't care what you have to say. Lily asked me to protect her son. So say what you came to say, and leave."
The tension in the air could've been cut with a dagger. For the first time in decades, Dumbledore felt a cold bead of sweat run down his back. But he couldn't leave just yet. He had to try.
"You see…" he began more cautiously, "the day Lily died, she cast a sacrificial charm. An ancient and powerful spell that protects Harry as long as he remains near someone of her blood. It's his strongest shield against the enemies still out there. You don't seem to be from around here, so perhaps you don't know… the magical world was ravaged by war. The leader of a dark group was destroyed by that boy… or rather, by his mother's spell. And his followers… they're still out there."
Wanda was silent for a moment.
Then she smiled.
"He just has to be near his blood? That's easy…"
She walked back into the room, Dumbledore watching her with increasing unease. In front of the TV, Harry looked at her curiously.
Wanda extended a hand. A soft red glow appeared in her palm, enveloping one of Harry's hairs, which floated toward her, slowly twirling in the air.
And then it happened.
The hair turned into a drop of blood that pierced her skin and merged with her chest. Chaos energy exploded within her like a storm of scarlet fire. Her eyes flew open—and now… they weren't just green. They held the same almond hue as Lily's.
"There. Now I'm his blood," Wanda declared, walking toward Dumbledore with firm steps.
He stepped back. It wasn't voluntary. It was pure instinct.
That magic… he didn't understand it. It wasn't light magic. It wasn't dark magic. It wasn't human magic.
It was something else.
Dumbledore tried to analyze it, trace its origin, understand it. And without realizing it, he made the worst mistake he could have made.
He tried to enter her mind.
And he succeeded. For just one second.
But that was all Wanda needed.
The world vanished.
Everything turned white.
No shadows. No time. No way out.
"You shouldn't have come here," said a voice behind him.
Dumbledore turned.
Wanda floated in the air, her Scarlet Witch outfit clinging to her like a symbol of warning. Her eyes looked down on him with utter contempt.
"The last person who tried that… ended up with a broken neck. And he was stronger than you."
Dumbledore tried to speak, but something invisible gripped his chest. He couldn't move. The air thickened. The pain began.
"Tell me, why shouldn't I break you like I did him?"
The old man gasped. His real body began to feel it too. His ribs creaked. His back trembled.
"I—I… I'm sorry. My ability is… unstable…"
"Wrong answer."
The pressure intensified. The lights in the white void flickered like collapsing stars.
"I just… wanted to know if Harry would be safe with you…"
Wanda stared at him.
The pain stopped.
Dumbledore was telling the truth. Not all of it, but enough.
She snapped her fingers and cast him out of her mind.
Back in front of the door, Dumbledore collapsed to his knees, trembling, bracing himself against the frame and gasping for air. Sweat drenched his forehead. Never, in all his years, had he felt such pure fear.
"Leave. You're not welcome here," Wanda said coldly. "I let you live only because I don't want Harry to see a corpse. Next time… I won't be so kind. I'm not that kind of person."
And with that, she shut the door in his face. Then, with a flick of her fingers, she conjured a red barrier that surrounded the entire house. No wizard would enter without her permission.
Wanda took a deep breath. She could've killed him. She would've enjoyed it. But she knew that a wizard as influential as him must have connections… students, allies. Killing him would bring a magical war to her doorstep.
And Harry didn't need that.
For now, she would let it go.
But she would not forget.
Then she felt it. Something inside her. A different energy from her chaos—lighter… more human. It was the magical energy of this world. Weak. Soft. But it was there. Like Dumbledore's.
She looked at Harry. He had it too.
"So… you're a little wizard," she murmured with a smile. "Maybe I should teach you a few tricks. After all, chaos magic is still magic… just a different kind. Mmm… I should have asked Strange to teach me some Eldritch spells back when we still spoke. Or stolen them when we didn't…"
She chuckled softly and sat beside him on the couch. Harry didn't even notice. He kept watching cartoons, laughing, happy.
And Wanda watched him.
Protecting him.
That was her purpose.
And no one—no headmaster, no ministry, no magical army—was going to get in her way.
—--------
A/N: Quick poll!
Would you like to see Harry grow up as a child under Wanda's care, with a more methodical and slow-paced development (but still with some action)?
Or would you prefer we jump straight to his arrival at Hogwarts, focusing more on his own issues, with Wanda appearing now and then as an angry mother dishing out punishment?
Which option do you prefer?