Harry Potter: From Baldur's Gate to Hogwarts

Lying in the embrace of his lover Shadowheart, surrounded by his panicked and sweat-drenched companions, Harry Potter—the last illithid in Baldur's Gate—closed his eyes peacefully and took his final breath.
***
In the cupboard under the stairs at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, Harry Potter opened his eyes.
He stared blankly at the ceiling in the darkness for quite some time until a bug crawling onto his face interrupted him.
Casually brushing away the bug that was making its way toward his eye, Harry realized he was not dead. He glanced around.
"Why does this place feel so familiar? Where… am I?"
Sitting up, Harry surveyed the cramped wooden room, the thin blanket draped over him, and his now human yet noticeably smaller body. The feeling of familiarity grew stronger.
As he moved, a card that he knew all too well slipped out.
Staring dumbfounded, he picked up the blue-and-white card and read the string of distinctly Faerûnian text on it.
-[Name]: Harry Potter-[Race]: Human Wizard

-[Class]: Storm Sorcerer (28)

-[Level]: 1 Sorcerer

-[Attributes]:

Strength: 9 (Minor -2)Dexterity: 11 (Minor -2)Constitution: 11 (Human Wizard +1, Minor -2)Intelligence: 13Wisdom: 14 (Human Wizard +1)Charisma: 17

-[Status]:[Resistances]:

[Key Traits]:

-Opportunity Attack

-Magical Tempest (When you cast a spell of 1st level or higher, you can fly freely for six seconds.)

-Wind Speaker (Your arcane magic is infused with elemental air power. You can speak, read, and write Primordial. This knowledge also allows you to understand and communicate with speakers of its dialects: Aquan, Auran, Ignan, and Terran.)

"This… is the character card I carried during my adventures in Faerûn? Why is my level back to one?"
Staring at the card that had accompanied him through countless adventures, Harry was lost in thought when suddenly, hurried and heavy footsteps approached from outside.
The door to his cramped space was flung open, and an angry, round face peered in.
"Boy! Do you know what time it is? Go make breakfast now! Today's Dudley's birthday, and I don't want anything ruining it! Do you understand?!"
Hearing the man's furious roar, Harry turned his head impatiently. He glanced coldly at the vaguely familiar face, still thinking with the extreme detachment he had cultivated as an illithid.
"Shut up, Dursley. I'm thinking," Harry said coolly.
The enraged roar stopped abruptly, replaced by increasingly heavy breathing.
Ignoring Vernon Dursley's reaction, Harry began to process his current situation.
Thanks to Vernon's shouting, Harry finally recognized where he was. But hadn't he died? Why was he alive again at 4 Privet Drive? And judging by his body, he was no more than eleven years old.
Vernon Dursley stared at his nephew, who seemed lost in thought. Remembering Harry's defiant gaze and disrespectful tone, Vernon's face turned beet red, his well-groomed mustache quivering with rage.
Finally, the man, now beyond furious, grabbed Harry's scrawny arm and dragged him out of the cupboard.
"Talking back to me?! You don't have the right! Now get in the kitchen and make breakfast, or—"
"Stay away from me, Dursley. Your spit is getting on my face," Harry said, snapping his fingers. A translucent mage hand appeared between him and Vernon, gently pushing the larger man back a few steps.
"Much better," Harry remarked, enjoying the fresher air.
"What the bloody hell is this?!" Vernon roared, staring at the transparent hand in disbelief.
"That's Mage Hand. It's a cantrip," Harry explained, as though to a curious child.
"I don't care if it's magic or a stupid trick! Stop this nonsense right now! I won't have any of this in my house!"
Harry sighed. "Uncle Vernon, arguing isn't a productive way to communicate."
He pointed at Vernon and silently cast the 1st-level spell Charm Person.
Calm returned. Petunia, who had come to investigate, was reassured by Vernon's unusually gentle tone and returned to the kitchen.
"Now, Uncle Vernon, can we have a proper conversation?" Harry asked, sitting on his bed and looking up at his now-placid uncle.
"Of course, Harry. You can tell me anything," Vernon replied, wearing an unnaturally kind smile.
"I'm planning to move out," Harry said, recalling the years of mistreatment and anticipating Vernon's likely rage once the spell wore off.
"Harry, are you sure? Maybe you should think it over," Vernon said softly. "I know we've been harsh in the past, but I promise we'll treat you better. Dudley will, too. As long as you don't use magic in public, we'll always be family."
"Thanks, Uncle Vernon, but I've made up my mind. Besides, I know magic now. I can manage just fine on my own," Harry said, speeding up his words as the spell's effect neared its end. "Don't worry; we'll still see each other."
Unable to dissuade Harry, Vernon sighed, retrieved a wallet from the wall, and handed Harry a bank card.
"There's £1,000 on this. It should cover your expenses until school starts. I'll make regular deposits for school costs. Just remember, you'll always have a place here."
"Thanks, Uncle Vernon," Harry said with a smile, pocketing the card and quickly packing.
Ten minutes later, with little to his name, Harry left 4 Privet Drive, a backpack on his shoulders.
Standing at the door, Vernon watched Harry's figure disappear into the night, his face full of reluctance and worry. Then, his expression twisted, fear and rage overtaking him.
"Damn it! What did that little brat do to me?!"
His muffled roar was swallowed by the pre-dawn darkness.