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Hermione had always known she was a bit different from the other children around her.It wasn't a bad thing, her parents were quick to assure her of that much, but a little girl who did nothing but read wasn't exactly one many wished to befriend- especially when they found out she used phrases like 'wished to befriend', too.So she was alone for most of her younger years.But that was fine with her, she preferred her books. If someone wished to be friends with her, they'd have to get through her walls made of hardcovers and doors of ink and paper, and that was fine with her.(It really wasn't fine, but she didn't want her parents to worry, and the teachers always complimented how quiet and bookish she was, how easily she grasped lessons, so she pretended it was fine, and kept on reading.)Then, when she was seven, she found a little, beat up paperback, simply titled 'Matilda'.And from there, she got true confirmation that she wasn't really normal.For Matilda was quite odd, yet so like her, and Matilda could lift things with her mind, and when Hermione concentrated really hard, picturing how Matilda had done it- she could do it too!She could do other things- make water float, and change the color of fire, and lift herself, and so many other wonderful little things.She didn't feel lonely, anymore. Her magic (for that's what it was, there was no other explanation!) took away all those feelings, replaced them with a fantastic, giddy rush whenever she tried to do something with her powers and it worked.At ten, she tried to read the teacher's thoughts.She never interacted with that teacher on purpose again.(the horrors in that man's head, of pinning little girls and boys like her down and doing those gross things- she vowed to never let that happen to her or anyone else, ever. Nobody should have to go through that.)Then a letter arrived in the post at 11, and suddenly so much made sense.She told her parents she got invited to an exclusive, free boarding school, and they agreed to let her go. They insisted on having a sit down with a teacher, so she wrote back via owl and asked politely for a representative of the school to come and explain to her muggle parents some of the basics, without talking about magic. (They hadn't had a great reaction when she'd shown them her telekinesis at 9, and she'd hidden it ever since. It's almost like they'd forgotten she was special at all, but that was ok.)Deputy Headmistress McGonagall wrote back, promising she would pop by in two weeks' time to explain, in muggle clothes.She did, and Hermione was free to join the Wizarding World.She took her shopping, too- just in case.And Hermione's first year at Hogwarts was ready to begin.
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The Weasley household was chaotic, but everyone within it was full of joy and cheer.At least, from the outside.Each of the Weasleys had different roles, occupations they fit into and enjoyed.Arthur the Muggle expert, Molly the loving mum, Bill the famous curse-breaker, Charlie the dragon-tamer, Percy the perfect-grades-king, Fred and George the prankster twins, Ron the youngest boy, and Ginny the girl.Ron never stood out between them, even if they stood out in a crowd. All his clothes were hand-me-downs, his rat was his brother's, the wand they gave him for Hogwarts had unicorn hair sticking out the top, and the owl they let him use was just the family own, as old as it was dumb.He just wanted to be seen for once, to say hello and have someone say hello back, instead of 'Weasley' or 'How's your brothers doing?' or 'How's (insert family member)?' or 'God you look so poor, can't your father buy you some clothes?'He just wanted to be Ron. Not Weasley, not Redhead, not Blood Traitor, just fucking Ron.But that's impossible, so he'll pretend he's ok how he is.Pretend he's not numb.Pretend the bangles he purchased himself with his meager allowance of a sickle a month is to announce his presence or because they look pretty and not to hide his wrists.Pretend the pranks the twins play on him don't make him burn with rage as much as they do make him shake with terror.Pretend when Percy comes home with straight O's he's happy for him instead of angry at the attention he gets.Pretend he doesn't want to be seen.Eventually, he learns how to blend into the background- not just with his family, but with everyone. He learns how to sew up his old, worn out clothes into something passable, something just this side of nice, and re-sews the hand-me-down basic black robes he has for Hogwarts until they fit like a professional tailor, with enough room for him to grow into it for his first year of Hogwarts.He learns how to hold his tongue when he wants nothing more than to scream, and he learns how to hide his burning passion for the dark, and the dangerous, and ripping his family to shreds for passing him up every time.He doesn't mind Ginny, sometimes, when it's just the two of them. But when his mother plays with her hair, cooing over how much she loves having a girl, when she gets bought new dresses and bows and shoes because nothing in the house fits her, he burns all the darker.Then when he gets his letter to Hogwarts and the leftovers from all the other Weasley kids' first years, he brought his mom the two-hundred-thirteen sickles he'd saved, and asked her if he can get a new wand.She agreed, and he visited Ollivander's for a new wand that very day.When he stepped foot into the shop, a dusty, old box at the back fell off of it's shelf, shining gold from under the lid.Ollivander tutted, opening the box and handing it to Ron. "12 1/2 inches, rigid, made of vine and dragon heartstring. Rather rare, dear Ronald Weasley. Nothing like any of your siblings as far as I can remember- aside from the dragon heartstring, your brother Charlie had been destined to work with the creatures since he was your age. A fine choice, fine indeed... Give it a flick, now, Ronald. Don't be shy."He gave the wand a swish, and a shower of green and gold sparks flew from the end. He smiled. It felt his, more than anything else he'd ever had.His mother paid the seven galleons and left, thanking Ollivander profusely as she went."Now, Ron, seeing as we're in town and you have two Galleons and 9 Sickles left, would you like to check out the shops or save your money?" his mother asked him, smiling gently.He considered for a moment. "Can we look at the pet store? I probably won't buy anything, but I don't want to force you all to part with Errol at all while I'm at Hogwarts." he lied, passive.She bought it. "Sure, dear, let's pop over to the store."They do, and they find an awful lot of birds, owls or otherwise. He's overwhelmed by the expensive choices, at least, until a scruffy, small, odd looking owl catches his eye, at the very back of the store. It's batting at its cage with its wings, strange intelligence reflecting off its giant, golden eyes.He found himself walking towards it, stopping just before and reading the plate. The owl seemed to calm down once he was in front of it- him, it seems, by the plate. Only ten sickles? They must have really wanted to get rid of him.He turned his head back up to the owl, his golden eyes staring into Ron's own hazel."Can I call you Midas?" he asked the owl.The owl blinked, one eye and then the other, then gently ruffled his feathers up.Ron reached his finger between the bars, curled up, and the owl's head moved towards it-"NO! GET YOUR HAND AWAY FROM IT!" a shopkeeper screeched.-and gently nuzzled the finger, eyes closing."Wait, it didn't bite your finger off?" the shopkeep asked in bewilderment, staring at this odd redheaded boy and the usually-feral owl.The boy shrugged. "He seemed calm enough to me. I asked if I could call him Midas, and he liked it. Can I buy him? He seems like a nice match for me."The shopkeep merely nodded, too stunned for words.It was at this point his mother decided to bustle around the corner. "Oh, there you are, Ronald dear. Have you found an owl you like?"He nodded, still petting his owl. "I think I'll name him Midas, mum. His eyes are just a brilliant gold. He's only 10 sickles, too!""Oh, delightful, dear. I'll pay up front, if you can go gather a perch and some food for us. Meet me in the front, alright, dear?""Yes, mum."His mother bustled the shopkeep to the counter, and he grabbed his owl's cage off the rusty hook it was hanging off. He grabbed a different perch from the side of the store, and some feed as well, careful to total it to be less than his max money spendable. He then brought the items up front, clearly within his mum's view, and relaxed with his owl, petting him gently.His first year at Hogwarts, huh? Hope it's interesting.
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To anyone looking into the Dursley household, the family appeared for all the world to be a normal family.A hard-working husband, a doting housewife, and a well loved single child.From the outside, things were picture perfect- outside of one, simple flaw.There were two children who lived within the walls of the Dursley household.The one Petunia and Vernon so obviously cherished, Dudley.And the screw-up whose parents died in a car crash, the one dumped on their stoop as a baby with nothing to his name aside from a locket. Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter.Very few knew the child existed, and fewer still knew of his connection to the Dursleys. They kept him out of kindergarten, and would have kept him at their house for elementary too if they were able.His teachers rarely noticed him, as he was average in all of their classes, quiet as a mouse, and as unobtrusive as possible under all circumstances.His bullies knew of his existence, sure, and a handful of them knew he was Dudley's cousin, but most just knew him as Dudley's favorite kid to pick on.Those who worked with Vernon were oblivious, as he rarely brought co-workers over- in fact, he only ever seemed to bring home potential investors.Those in the neighborhood would sometimes catch a glimpse of a small black haired boy in the gardens, but he was rarely seen, and the Dursleys never seemed to acknowledge his presence, so why should they?So Harry remained hidden in plain sight and under the Dursleys' watch, and noone but him was any the wiser as to his treatment.Today was like any other day at Number 4 Privet Drive.Harry woke up at five to do chores, prepared breakfast at six, got beat around a bit, and grabbed the mail.Unlike any other day at Number 4 Privet Drive, at the top of the pile of mail was a curiously thick wax sealed envelope- with Harry's name on the front!Carefully, he slid the letter into his pocket, thankful for once of Dudley's hand-me-down too-large jeans. The pockets were massive, and easily obscured the letter hidden within.He hurried back to the table, keeping his eyes to the ground and a smile off his face.He had actual mail! Addressed to him!After his early morning beating, Dudley, Dudley's friend, and Harry were all packed into the Dursley family car to go to the zoo. Apparently his usual sitter was cancelled?Upon entry to the zoo, Dudley spied an ice cream van, and like any spoiled eleven year old would, he immediately demanded an ice cream for himself and his friend.His parents happily obliged.Harry stood aside from them, doing his best to make it seem like he was not part of their group. He followed them loosely, well within Petunia's sight but far enough away that people would never connect the happy family to the lonely child.It was his first time at the zoo, so Harry tried his best to enjoy it, though it felt impossible with Petunia's hawk-like glare burning through his spine.When they got to the reptile exibit, Harry was enthralled. He had always enjoyed talking to the local garden snakes- maybe he could talk to the ones here too?Vernon had beat him for the 'horrid hissing noise', so he should try to be quiet so as not to disturb anyone's trip.He crouched down near a cramped cage in a corner.'Oh joy, another hatchling come to dissturb me. What can I do for you, hatchling?' the snake hissed.He hissed back, 'Ssorry, didn't mean to dissturb you, I can leave if you would like...'The snake perked up. 'Sspeaker? You can hear me? My earss haven't decieved me after all thesse yearss?'He nodded. 'I am a sspeaker, yes.''Be careful sspeaker. Though it iss a fine gift, thosse who are not like you will usse it ass a weapon againsst you. Guard your sspeaking well.' the snake warned. 'I am Sswallowtail. What iss your name, hatchling?''Harry. Harry Po-'Dudley was staring at him, a cruel glint in his eye.'I have to go. I hope to ssee you again ssomeday, Sswallowtail.'He hurried away from the cage, edging closer to another exibit near Dudley and his friend. He kept the Dursleys' reflection in his line of sight, doing his best to focus on them and not get distracted.It became hard, though, when Dudley harassed a boa constrictor in his cage, obviously looking for a reaction from the sleeping creature.After Dudley and his friend had moved on, he read the plaque in front of the boa's cage."From Brazil, huh? Did you like it there? Oh, wait- it says you were born in captivity. I know what that feels like."'Do you know, little human? What it'ss like to be brought up in a cage, never to be sset free? Never even given the chance to tasste the air of your Homeland?' '"It'ss one of the worsst feelingss in the world.' Harry replied, leaning against the wall near the boa's cage.The boa whipped his head around, tongue flicking out in disbelief.
'A sspeaker? I haven't ever met one of your kind who could undersstand me, though my mother had told me sstoriess... My name is Raja, what is yourss?'
'Harry. Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you, Raja. I'm awfully ssorry for my coussin earlier... he'ss not exactly the nicesst boy.'
'It'ss alright, Harry. You could no ssooner control him then divert a river from itss path.'
Suddenly, they were snapped out of their conversation by a banging on the glass."Mum, look, it's moving! Hey, you, snake, do a dance or something!" Dudley shouted, nose pressed against the glass.Harry wondered how Dudley would feel, being on the other side of the glass. Helpless, caged up and meant to be gawked at like some kind of freak.The glass vanished, and Dudley fell through.After a couple seconds' hesitation, Raja slithered out of his cage, putting some distance between it and himself before giving one last nod to Harry and slithering off.As soon as Dudley tried to get back up, the glass reformed. He stood up and started banging on the glass from the inside.The Dursleys finally noticed what was going on and rushed over, Petunia fretting and Vernon bewildered and angry.He noticed Harry near the cage and all hell broke loose.Harry was locked into his cupboard the second they got home, threats of a beating shouting at Harry from the way Vernon glared at him, the tight lipped frown, the too-tight grip on his clothes and upper arm.He sat in silence til dinnertime, when he was dragged out of the cupboard and shoved to the stove, where he dutifully made dinner and served it to the Dursleys, allowed none for himself. He was given a thorough beating once the dishes were done, left to tend to his injuries from the day's events and stew on the letter and its' meaning.It was addressed to him, but it was from a 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'- which wasn't possible, right? Magic wasn't real, and even if it was, how was he supposed to attend? He wasn't magical... right?But then how could he talk to snakes? Why did his hair grow back while he slept on the days when Petunia tried to shave it off?Why did the glass disappear and trap Dudley in?If he didn't have magic, how could he do all that?How could this school know he lived in the cupboard under the stairs?Magic exists, he decided. No matter what the Dursleys chose to say on the matter.Resolute, he opened the wax seal and took out the papers.Ignoring the supply list for the moment, he pulled the lightbulb string down so he could read the letter better.'Dear Mr. H. Potter,We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.Term begins on September 1st XXXX. We await your owl by no later than July 31stTo avoid detection by Muggles, please use the entrance located at King's Cross Station in downtown London, at platform 9 3/4; ticket enclosed. We look forward to having you at our school.Yours sincerely,Minerva McGonagallDeputy Headmistress'Owl her? Didn't it come with the post?How was he supposed to know which owl to send it with? Owls were out during the night, so maybe an owl out during the day?He grabbed the pen he'd filched from Ms. Figg, and a paper from his ratty schoolbag.Grabbing his old clipboard he'd taken a few years ago from school, he put pen to paper, and wrote out his response.'Dear Ms. McGonagall,I would very much like to attend Hogwarts, but I don't think my relatives will allow me to go. Also, I don't have the money necessary to purchase supplies nor any idea where to get them. Therefore, I would like to request some assistance in order to attend.Sincerely,Harry Potter'Humming, he folded it into fourths, before taking a second paper and folding it into an envelope.Now all he needed to do was wait until he was allowed outside, and find an owl that could take the letter to the deputy headmistress.He sighed, and placed both the letter and the reply carefully under his ratty blankets before turning off the light and trying (and failing) to fall asleep.It took two days for the Dursleys to believe he'd learned his lesson, and another one before Petunia ordered him to do the gardening.Luckily, that day an owl swooped down in broad daylight and accepted the letter from him, seeming to nod once he told it who the letter was to. He finished the gardening before being ordered inside to make dinner.Three days later he got a response with the Monday post.Another letter addressed to him, which he spent no time in looking over before shoving it into his pocket.The Dursleys suspected nothing, but they locked him in the cupboard without dinner that night anyway. He read the letter once they were asleep, and it read:'Dear Harry Potter,Thank you for writing back so promptly. If you so wish, a representative of Hogwarts can bring you from your residence to the street where you would buy your school supplies as well as to the train station on August 31st. Please write back with a preferred date, and a representative will come to pick you up on the preferred date.Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress'Excited, he wrote back:'Dear Ms. McGonagall,This Thursday, my relatives will be going to a party from two to nine. Would that be an appropriate time? I will be at the house two doors down, Number Six Privet Drive, because I will be babysat by my neighbor .Sincerely,Harry Potter'The response came with Wednesday's post.'Dear Harry Potter,Thursday will be a perfectly appropriate time for a representative to pick you up. We will see you tomorrow, and look forward to having you at our school.Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress'On Thursday, as he was dropped of at Ms. Figg's, he noticed a peculiarly attentive cat he had seen a few times before around the neighborhood.He wasn't sure its' breed, but it had very distinctive markings, like glasses around its' eyes.Ms. Figg, once Harry was inside, promptly announced she was going to take a nap.As soon as Ms. Figg was upstairs, there were three smart knocks on the door. He opened it to reveal a rather no-nonsense looking woman wearing elegant green robes, her greying hair pulled into a tight bun atop her head. Despite her uptight nature and straight posture, she smiled at Harry kindly."Are you Harry Potter?" she asked, smiling gently."Y-yes, I am." he responded, scratching his arm absentmindedly.Her smile seemed to grow fonder, if possible. "I am Ms. McGonagall, the woman with whom you've been conversing lately. I've come to help you get your school things."He smiled softly. "Thank you, Deputy Headmistress.""No need for all of that when we're not at school, my dear. You can call me Ms. McGonagall or Ms. Minerva."Despite her gentle tone and soft smile, Harry could feel the pit of self loathing he'd so carefully buried rear it's ugly head.He ignored it and replied, "Alright, Ms. McGonagall."She nodded sharply. "Alright, I prepared a taxi for us, it should be here any moment."And it really was a moment, because just after she finished speaking, a taxi pulled up."Just in time. Come, let's get going. We have five hours to finish all your shopping, we cannot allow a moment to waste."She ushered him into the car, and the ride was filled with quiet conversation about the school and what they would be buying.Their destination seemed odd, the middle of a crowded street of shops and restaurants, though the place they walked to seemed even stranger.A rather lively bar, with bright lights and silhouettes of people inside, yet nobody on the street was paying it any attention at all! And the lighting didn't reflect onto the cobblestones or passersby, almost like it didn't really exist...When stepped out of the cab, she didn't pay the cabdriver, though they drove off anyway. The passersby didn't seem to notice Harry or the Headmistress, yet they passed through the people effortlessly.The bar itself was just as loud as he imagined it would be, yet none of the patrons gave him much mind, only nodding at Ms. McGonagall and occasionally giving him an appraising glance before dismissing him.They passed through the bar unhindered, and walked through a back door to an alleyway that wasn't present on the street before.She gestured for him to stand back, and he watched in awe as she pulled out a thin stick (her wand, she had shown him in the cab) and tapped several seemingly random bricks before stepping back herself.The bricks of the walls rearranged themselves to form an archway, and she stepped through it, gesturing for him to follow.He scurried along behind her as she walked, careful to stay close and not bump into any of the bustling crowd along the street.Eventually, they stopped next to a bank, and she turned to him at last."I doubt your relatives have told you much about your parents, but they left you a large sum of money before they died. It's kept in a vault here at Gringotts Bank, along with family treasures and the like." she stated.He nodded. "They'd told me my parents died in a car crash and that's how I got my scar... is that not the truth? Were they magic like me?"She nodded. "Your mother and father were both very talented wizards, and I was very proud to have them as my students. They were both Gryffindor, the house I am the head of, and grew to be instrumental in stopping the last Wizarding War.""Wizarding War?""Yes, there was a war several years ago. The night it all ended, October 31st, was the night you got your scar.""And the night they died, right?""Yes. They had gone into hiding, but one of their close friends betrayed their location to the Dark Lord, the man we had been trying to defeat. He had wanted to kill all non-magical people, known as Muggles, as well as people who came from Muggle parents, like your mum. He came to your house that night and killed them both, but failed to kill you. The killing curse he had tried to hit you with rebounded back onto himself, and he was obliterated.""You called him the 'Dark Lord', does he have a real name?""His real name is Voldemort, though most call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as it is seen as a sort of social taboo to say his real one.""That's ridiculous to me, I mean, names only have power if you give them power, right?""That is one way to look at things, though most don't share your opinion on that. Now then, enough chit-chat, let's get on with the shopping. We must withdrawal some money from your account first, so let's head inside. I must warn you, the creatures who run the bank, goblins, are quite a unique sight to see. Please don't stare or be rude, they take it as quite the insult."He nodded, and together they went into the bank. On the way up to a teller's booth, handed him a small silver key.After a small nudge from the Headmistress, Harry walked quietly over to the teller."H-hello, I'd like to withdraw some money from my account, please." Harry asked, nervously fidgeting with the locket he wore under his clothes.The goblin leaned over his desk, peering down at Harry. "Name?""Harry, sir. Harry Potter."The goblin looked back at Ms. McGonagall, then down to Harry again."Do you have your key?"Harry nodded. "H-here."He reached up and placed the key onto the desk, and the goblin smirked a bit."Well then, Harry. Let's get you down to your vaults, then." the goblin stated, grabbing the key and getting down from his chair. "I am Griphook, the manager for your family vaults. If you'll follow me, I'll bring you to the trust fund your parents left you."The goblin- Griphook -took them down a hallway towards what looked like a rickety mineshaft cart. He beckoned them in, and the moment Harry sat down the minecart shot off like a rollercoaster- if the rollercoaster was going seventy miles an hour and felt like it was going to tip off the rails at the slightest imbalance.Ms. McGonagall seemed largely unaffected by the ride, sitting elegantly next to him on the bench.He, meanwhile, felt all out of sorts once they reached the vault, stumbling out of the car and feeling quite dizzy.The vault they arrived at seemed rather fancy, gold spiderwebbing over it in some form of complicated lock.Griphook placed the key in the lock and turned it before settling his hand on an open part of the door. The door unlocked through a series of clicks, and swung inwards once Griphook removed his hand.Inside, there were several stacks of golden and silver coins, a few bronze ones laying around here or there. In short- the largest stack of money Harry had ever bore witness to.Ms. McGonagall gestured him forward, gentle smile still in place, and Griphook handed him a small bag a little bigger than his hand.He walked into the vault warily, his fears slowly getting the better of him.
This could all be some elaborate trick or prank or hoax, I mean, there's no way Magic's actually real, or he could possibly be able to touch so much gold, let alone use or own it! It just feels impossible! No way, this has to be some kind of dream, right?
He reached out and touched a single gold piece.Nothing. No pain, no waking up.He took a deep breath in, and let it out. It's not a dream, magic is real, everything's going to be all right.That reaffirmed, he plopped the piece of gold currency into the bag and grabbed several more, holding them like he'd seen people hold poker chips or checker pieces before dropping them in, too.He repeated the process until the bag was full and there was a small dent in the piles of gold. After, he took a single silver piece and slipped it into his too-large shorts, and turned around."Alright, what's next?"