London in December was always like this — the sky so gloomy it seemed it would never clear.
At this moment, Harry Potter's mood was as bleak as the weather.
He stood under the porch of Number 4, Privet Drive, looking at the fine drizzle outside, and sighed softly.
"Hurry up, boy!" came Vernon Dursley's impatient shout from the living room. "Dudley wants chocolate. Go buy it. Don't dawdle! Umbrella? Forget it — for such light rain, you don't need one."
Harry pulled his oversized coat — one of Dudley's cast-offs — tighter around his thin frame and stepped out.
For Harry, this was nothing new.
His place in the Dursley household had always been this way.
The cold rain quickly soaked through his too-short trouser legs, the chill creeping up his ankles.
Lowering his head, Harry walked quickly along the sidewalk, the streetlights casting a dim glow through the misty rain.
Luckily, the convenience store was nearby. Even for a ten-year-old, it wouldn't take long.
But just as the store's outline came into view, Harry paused.
"When did that open?"
Confused, he stared at the building next to the familiar shop.
A new place had appeared beside it — one he swore hadn't been there before.
"Sunshine, Daisies, and Sweet Cream?"
Harry read the sign above the door.
Was it a flower shop? Or maybe a dessert place?
Peeking into the window, he saw rows of ordinary-looking potted plants.
Nothing special. Probably just a regular plant shop.
He was about to turn away when something caught his eye — a cactus in the center of the display.
Under his gaze, the cactus… twisted.
It looked like it was dancing.
Is that… a new species? Harry muttered, curiosity flaring.
Before he could think twice, he walked up to the door and pushed it open.
Inside, the shop looked fairly normal.
Shelves lined with green plants and flowers filled the space, and the air smelled richly of soil.
A few landscape paintings hung on the walls, though Harry thought portraits would suit them better.
But what struck him most was the door standing in the middle of the shop.
Not attached to any wall.
Just… a door.
It looked old — cracked wooden panels and a greenish copper knob.
It gave him an uneasy feeling.
Why would someone put a door there?
Drawn by curiosity, Harry stepped closer and unconsciously touched the knob.
At that moment, everything changed.
A vine shot out from the door's crack, wrapping around his wrist.
Startled, Harry tried to pull back, but more vines surged forth, snaking around his body.
"Ah!"
He yelped, struggling, but the vines were surprisingly strong.
They dragged him toward the door.
"No! Let me go!"
Harry kicked and thrashed, but the vines paid no mind.
With a violent tug, they pulled him through the doorway.
— — — —
Inside Vissen's greenhouse.
This vast space was Eldrein Vissen's first greenhouse, mainly used for cultivating common potion ingredients.
Vissen returned from Diagon Alley, where he'd bought some Dirk Cresswell seeds, only to find a child tangled in his security plant — Devil's Snare.
He frowned.
A wizard kid from the neighborhood who wandered in? Vissen guessed.
Kids these days — always so reckless.
As Harry struggled in the vines, Vissen shook his head and approached, patting the Devil's Snare.
"Let him go."
At his command, the plant loosened its grip, even affectionately brushing its vines against Vissen's face.
"Alright, alright, back you go."
Vissen gently pushed the plant away.
"Good job guarding the place."
The Devil's Snare waved its vines like it was saying goodbye before retreating into the shadows.
Vissen then turned to Harry, who looked frightened but not crying — just tense.
Narrowing his eyes, Vissen studied him carefully.
"Whose kid are you?" he asked in a calm tone.
Harry swallowed, nervously twisting his fingers.
This place was strange, and the man in front of him clearly wasn't normal — he could command those scary vines like pets.
But Harry didn't feel true fear.
Somehow, he sensed they were the same kind.
"I'm sorry, sir. I saw the shop and came in to look… then the vines grabbed me," Harry said cautiously.
Vissen nodded, unsurprised.
Harry's wet hair stuck to his forehead, his crooked glasses making him look even more bedraggled.
"It's alright, kid. That was my Devil's Snare — it catches any wizard who wanders in here," Vissen explained.
He drew his wand and gave it a flick at Harry.
The rain evaporated from Harry's clothes, and his hair dried in an instant.
"Wizard?"
Harry latched onto that word.
"What's a wizard?"
Now it was Vissen's turn to frown.
Could this boy be a Muggle?
But that didn't make sense.
Muggles weren't supposed to even see this shop — his repelling charms should block them.
Before Vissen could puzzle it out, Harry spoke up.
"My name's Harry Potter. I live nearby, in…"
Vissen froze.
"Harry… Potter…"
He murmured the name, memories flooding back.
It had been so long — he'd almost forgotten he'd transmigrated into the Harry Potter world.
When Vissen first woke up here, it was 1965.
Born into a Muggle family, he assumed it was a normal reincarnation until his Hogwarts letter arrived at age eleven.
That's when he realized: he was in that world.
And, judging by the year, he'd arrived before the main story even began — before Harry Potter himself was born.
Vissen had accepted his fate happily; who wouldn't want magic?
At Hogwarts, he'd been an excellent student, but careful to stay low-profile during Voldemort's rise.
Muggle-borns like him were prime targets then, so he kept his head down.
Thankfully, he survived his school years without incident.
When Voldemort fell, Vissen graduated and traveled the magical world for six years before returning to London two years ago.
By then, he'd nearly forgotten the canon plot.
That's why he hadn't recognized the boy immediately.
But now, looking closely — the messy black hair, the bright green eyes, the lightning-shaped scar — it all matched.
Is this a coincidence?
Vissen couldn't help but wonder.
When he moved back, he'd simply picked a random Muggle neighborhood to set up shop — never imagining he'd chosen Privet Drive, of all places.
The place where Harry Potter himself lived.
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