Work Text
Under the soft silver light of the moon, two women arrived at the exact same time, seemingly appearing out of thin air. Quietly they sat down on top of a hill in tall, calf-high grass, fireflies giving the scene a near-magical feel. Down, at the foot of the Scottish highland a river lay, the flowing water producing a faint garrulous sound.
The first of the women had auburn hair flowing freely down her back, small freckles splattered over her ivory skin, her green eyes the same shade as the grass beneath them. The other woman was of light blonde hair, braided tightly and positively glowing in the moonlight. Her skin was the colour of burnt umber, complimented by the soft brown hues of her eyes.Both of them spent their time in what would’ve been absolute silence if not for the river’s gentle murmur and the chirping of crickets.
“ How’s your daughter doing?”, the first woman finally spoke up, gazing at the blonde inquisitively who looked down with a slight smile, the cloudy haze in her eyes marginally cleared.“She experienced the wonders of walking for the first time recently, little prodigy that she is. I imagine your son is walking by now as well, isn’t he?”, she asked, trying to clear the sombre atmosphere.“Mhm”, her counterpart hummed softly. “It’s a relief, you know? I’ve got to experience his life for this long already. It’s a blessing”, she responded before her viridian eyes narrowed, her voice becoming more quiet,”It won’t last will it?
“The moon’s beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”, the blonde asked instead, staying in her crouched position while fiddling with a piece of grass. Her russet eyes however were fixated on the redhead.The redhead’s eyes softened, a melancholy smile playing on her lips while she stood up and turned away, hands in the pockets of her cardigan.
“It sure is.” For a long time after the redhead’s departure the other woman remained, one single, silent tear slipping down her cheek, which was hidden by the shadow of an upcoming cloud.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Harry Potter was an average boy with a perfectly ordinary life, however much his relatives continued to insist that something was seriously wrong with him. He liked to believe there wasn't much of him that differed from his peers. Of course, he was a bit too small and skinny for his age, to which the oversized hand-me-downs from his overweight cousin only added. But those things could be easily rectified by the Dursleys, his family, so the reason they disliked him so much was a mystery to him.Maybe it was because of his black, unruly hair which bore no resemblance to his family's straight blond hair. Or the faint scar shaped like a lightning bolt adorning his forehead that he gained in the car accident his parents died in, if he were to trust their words. Perhaps that was exactly what they blamed him for: for surviving his parents. But then again, his aunt and uncle always spoke hatefully of them, and Petunia always gained that look like she'd bit in a sour lemon when the name of the woman's sister was brought up.Although, he couldn't really tell what else it could be. Harry was a good student, top of his class until Petunia reprimanded him for getting better grades than his cousin, Dudley. He always tried to follow their expectations to a T, yet it was never enough.Of course, there were some instances where peculiar things happened. Namely the time Harry ran from Dudley and his friends and ended up on the school’s roof. Harry later reread some books about gravity and psychology and concluded that he must’ve forgotten the process of climbing up in the heat of the moment since there was no way the wind could carry him up there.So naturally, Aunt Petunia had the right to be disappointed in him for breaking the rules. Silently, he still saw it as quite unfair, seeing as Dudley’s friend group was the one that drove him there. But it wasn’t like her golden child could do anything wrong anyway.Speaking of him, Dudley was currently running up and down the staircase above him while heavily stomping, causing dust to cascade down from the ceiling. Harry lived in the cupboard beneath the stairs, which he frankly didn’t mind much due to being able to hide there from his cousin and uncle rather well, seeing as their figure prevented them from accessing the cramped space. His aunt, on the other hand, would sooner drink bleach than step foot in such a filthy and untidied place, so it was somewhat of a safe space for him.He rolled onto his back, trying to remember the dream he’d been having. It had been a good one. He was pretty sure there was a motorcycle in it and a… giant man? Although he was pretty sure he’d had that dream multiple times before, he couldn’t quite recall its details.Suddenly, three sharp knocks sounded on the door of his cupboard. “Get up, boy!”, came the familiar screeching voice of Petunia,” Everything has got to be perfect on Dudder’s birthday!”How could he have forgotten Dudley’s birthday? After all in every prior year that was the most exhausting day for him.He groaned quietly.“ What was that?”, his aunt snapped from out the door.“ Yes, Aunt Petunia”, acknowledged Harry, gently plucking a few spiders from his socks, and just as he opened the door, Dudley, having finally ceased trampling, hurried down as fast as his fat body could carry him and shoved Harry back in. The latter, who was used to such treatment, just pushed his, by tape-held-together glasses up to the bridge of his nose and suppressed a long-suffering sigh.As he entered the kitchen he was greeted by the sight of dozens upon dozens of wrapped presents sitting on top of the kitchen table. How they were supposed to eat the food, Harry was told to cook, he had no idea.“ Brush your hair, boy.”, Uncle Vernon grunted, sitting there in all his glory as he took one look at his appearance before going back to read his newspaper and taking a sip of heavily sugared coffee which decidedly didn’t look very healthy.About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the guys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew all overthe place with no exception.“ Yes, sir”, Harry responded automatically as he flipped the bacon sitting in the pan while simultaneously pouring pure orange juice into three tall glasses.In the meanwhile Dudley was guided to the kitchen table by Petunia, who covered his eyes to surprise her son. Dudley's eyes filled with greed as he spotted the giant pile of presents. “ How many are there?”, he demanded to know.“ 36, counted them myself”, Vern0n, instead of reprimanding his son for his behavior, smiled proudly.The bulky preteen’s face went red with anger, exploding:” 36?! But- BUT LAST YEAR I HAD 37!”“Darling, you didn’t count the small one from Aunt Marge beneath Mummy and Daddy’s”, his Aunt attempted to calm Dudley down.“ Now, now”, Vernon began, also trying to placate him,” Some of them are bigger than last year.”“ I DON’T CARE HOW BIG THEY ARE!”, clamored Dudley, his fists shaking.Aunt Petunia, sensing her son’s upcoming outbreak, quickly came up with a solution:” No, no, no. Tell you what, when we go out we’ll buy you two more presents, how does that sound?”“Then I’ll have- I’ll have 30- 30-.”, Dudley began.“39, sweetums”, Petunia responded.Dudley, seemingly appeased sat down at the table with his parents while Harry dished out the food.Suddenly the phone rang and Petunia jumped up to go get it.
Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote-controlled aeroplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when she returned with a sour look on her face, her lips pressed together tightly.“ Mrs. Figg broke her leg, so she can’t take him”, she announced, pointing at Harry with narrowed eyes.Harry probably should’ve felt bad, although he could go one day without staring at photos of Mrs. Figg's countless cats while she told him long-winded stories about them. True, she was better than his relatives but that wasn’t a particularly hard feat to achieve and at least he was used to them.“ We could ask Marge.”, Harry’s uncle pondered which, in his opinion was a weird look on him.“ On vacation in Mallorca.”, Petunia responded curtly, glaring at Harry as if he’d planned this.Vernon clicked his tongue annoyedly. “ What about your friend Yvonne, can’t she just take him?”
“ Don’t be ridiculous, Vernon.”, his aunt snapped,” She hates the boy!”“You could just leave me here”, Harry suggested quietly, a hopeful look in his eyes that was immediately crushed by the next words of his aunt:” And having you burn down the house? I don’t think so.”Harry shrunk together slightly, mumbling:” I wouldn’t burn it down…” But Petunia just shot him a disbelieving look. No one ever believed his words, after all.The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn’t make them happen.Once when Aunt Petunia had grown tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn’t been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left “to hide that horrible scar.” Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. The next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn’t explain how it had grown back so quickly.Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley’s which was maroon with orange puff balls. The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally, it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn’t fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn’t punished.“ I guess we’ll just have to take him with us and leave him in the car.”, Aunt Petunia sighed, resigned.“ The car’s brand new. We’re not leaving him in it.”, Vernon interjected.
At that Dudley looked between his parents in repudiation:” Wait you’re just gonna let him come with us?” Then his cousin began to fake sob grossly.” Y- you can’t just let him come with!”, he sniffled,” He’s going to ruin everything!”Fortunately for everyone, the bell rang at exactly that moment, and Piers Polkiss, one of Dudley’s best friends walked in, wearing a lazy smirk. The blond preteen stopped fake crying immediately.Piers Polkiss was a tall lanky boy with long limbs which made him perfect for the role of holding Harry’s hands behind his back while Dudley and their other friends beat him up.Not that Harry was an easy target. After the first few times, he became very good at running.After a few minutes, and threats to behave himself from his Uncle, he and the others were finally sitting in the car, driving to the London zoo.During the drive, Vernon complained about his favourite topics. Harry, marauders, Harry, his drilling company, Harry, and annoying clients were only a few of them.“ I can’t believe they just let people run around doing whatever they want nowadays”, scoffed Vernon;” These hoodlums on motorcycles are going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”Harry would have commented offhandedly about dreaming of a flying motorcycle, but he thought it best not to. The only thing his uncle hated more than him was things not behaving as they should.Suddenly Vernon abruptly hit the brakes -which Harry was pretty sure was illegal since other people could accidentally hit you- and sneered. “Another one of these madmen, should’ve just hit him.”Harry barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes as both his cousin and Piers snickered with mean looks on their faces.A while and a few elbows against his ribcage later they eventually arrived at the zoo where he even got a citrus ice because the nice lady at the booth asked Petunia if she wasn't gonna get anything for her other ‘son’. And due to Dudley throwing a tantrum because his sundae wasn’t big enough, Harry even got to finish the first one.Those were the first times he ever ate ice cream, and he was in love.Though in retrospect, Harry should’ve known that this day was going way too well to be one in his life.After seeing a gorilla scratch its beefy head -which interestingly enough looked similar to Dudley, except that that gorilla didn’t have blond hair- they left to visit the reptile house.“ Make it move!”, Dudley demanded of his father as he put his grubby little hands on the pane of glass separating them and a giant boa constrictor that appeared to be sleeping. Vernon, following up on his request, harshly knocked against the glass, but the boa didn’t budge.“ Again”, Dudley pressed his father, and Vernon knocked a second time, but the snake remained in her position.Dudley then pouted:” This is boring. Come on Piers, let’s go somewhere else.”And while they went to the opposite side of the hallway, Harry looked at the snake emphatically. “ Must be annoying having people press their ugly face against your exhibit day in and day out.”Suddenly the snake shifted and rose, its beady eyes looking at Harry and then slowly winked at him. Harry froze and blinked dumbly. Last time he checked snakes didn’t have eyelids, so he was currently wondering if he was hallucinating. Nevertheless, he winked back, just going with it.“I can relate, you know?”, Harry mumbled,” Being locked in a dark cage most of the time, and people staring at you like you’re something disgusting when you’re not?” He then looked at the sign next to the boa contractor's exhibit. ” You’re from Brazil, huh? Was it nice there?”, he asked, imagining what life would be like in Brazil, far away from the Dursleys.The serpent then lifted its tail and pointed at the script beneath the bold print of the sign. “Bred in captivity? I guess we really are similar then.”, he said, softly smiling,” I never knew my parents either.”But then he heard his cousin’s friend shout out.” DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T
BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!” And in the next moment, Harry was shoved to the floor by his cousin who looked at the snake in awe, pressing his chubby face against it in a way that must've been unhygenic.Then suddenly, Piers jumped back in horror while Dudley fell into the snake exhibit due to the glass abruptly vanishing.The great snake uncoiled itself, hissing at Dudley whose face was white in shock, and then promptly left the exhibit. Harry could’ve sworn he heard the snake hiss ‘Thanks, amigo’ as she slithered out of the reptile house.A few moments later the zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn’t done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, “Harry was talking to it, weren’t you, Harry?”Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, “Go — cupboard — stay — no meals,” before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn’t know what time it was and he couldn’t be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn’t risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.He’d lived with the Dursleys for almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he’d been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn’t remember being in the car when his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. That, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from.He couldn’t remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course, he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.When he was younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes, he thought or maybe hoped that strangers in the street seemed to know him.Very queer strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while he was shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia rushed them out of the shop without buying anything.A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word, and these were only examples.The weirdest thing about all these people was that they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look.At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley’s gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley’s gang.Suddenly, he desperately wished that he was able to see something. Normally, there was a little bit of light creeping through the column under the door of his cupboard, but on days like these, when his uncle was particularly incensed, he sealed the column with a rag, probably desiring him to die by lack of oxygen. And Harry did feel like he couldn’t breathe.He once read in a book that if one of your senses was disabled, your other four sharpened. And seeing nothing but black, hearing only the sound of his heartbeat and breathing was making him increasingly nervous.
But then, all of a sudden, a ball of light appeared out of thin air that Harry stared at. Was this another one of the strange things that happened around him?Eventually, his breathing calmed as he attempted to study the ball of light. He tried wishing for it to be green, and the ball indeed, changed colour. At this point Harry was heavily questioning his sanity but if this worked, why wouldn’t something else work too?He experimented with this newly discovered power, wishing for food to appear. Nothing happened.Then Harry closed his eyes and wished for a piece of the cake that Petunia had him baking yesterday to appear. He stared in astonishment at the slice of cake in front of him.It seemed that he wouldn't have to go hungry tonight after all.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
His unintentional stunt with the boa constrictor had gotten him one of the longest punishments up to date. By the time he was allowed to leave Dudley had already broken most of his birthday presents and ran over a poor old lady with his racing bike. He also managed to swap one of his presents with the turtle belonging to one of his classmates, which he threw out of the window a few days later, after deeming it boring.Thankfully his new ability prevented him from starving, so his ribs weren’t showing after he got out. However, he didn’t often risk summoning food since the possibility of his aunt noticing the missing things was very high. Harry just counted on her blaming Dudley or her husband which meant he could barely take anything containing fruit or vegetables which was very healthy either, but what else could he do?School was also already over and it made Harry glad, but there was no escaping Dudley’s gang, who visited their house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in on Dudley’s favorite sport: Harry Hunting.Thus Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn’t be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon’s old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.“ They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Harry, “ Want to come upstairs and practice?”“No, thanks,” said Harry. “The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it. It might be sick.” Then he ran before Dudley could work out what he’d said.One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg’s. Mrs. Figg wasn’t as bad as usual. It turned out she’d broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn’t seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she’d had it for several years.That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings’ boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren’t looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn’t believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn’t trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.---The second day after he got out basically just went like every other he wasn’t confined to his cupboard.Aunt Petunia’s screeching gave him a rude awakening before the horse-faced woman assigned him a list of his daily chores which he just received with a bland expression. After all, there was no use in worrying about his ability to complete all of these tasks before dawn. Failure was usually followed by a verbal lashing out of his aunt, or physical acts, strength depending on how drunk his uncle had gotten in the earlier hours. He learned at an early age that stressing over such things just made them appear even more pressing and worsened his ability to finish his work. And to avoid retaliation by Petunia and Vernon he just swallowed down his emotions until they were nothing more than an unpleasant buzz at the back of his mind.Upon culmination of these assignments he found he could barely remember how his day went.He had of course by now figured out that the way his relatives were treating him was ironically by no means normal. A teacher once pried the truth about the Durselys' continued mistreatment of him after she’d seen his scars. A week later that teacher was gone and his life went on as usual.He never tried to tell another person what went on in the fear of the Dursleys getting rid of them.Snapping back to reality, Harry, immediately upon receiving his list, got started on cooking, knowing it was best not to leave his uncle waiting. And as he was about to pour out the excess water of the baked bean cans down the drain, he noticed a horrid stench. Something like watered-down papier-mâché seemed to be swimming in it. “ Uhm, Aunt Petunia?”, he called out hesitantly, looking at his aunt who just entered the kitchen questioningly,” What is that in the sink?”“ Your new uniform for Stonewall High. I’m dyeing some of Dudley’s old clothes grey”, she responded curtly.“ Oh, I didn’t realize it had to be so … wet”, he intoned. Harry wasn’t very picky about his clothes -not that growing up with the Dursleys gave him any other choice- but this time like many others his aunt’s train of thought was a mystery to him.“ Don’t be ridiculous!”, the fairy-haired woman snapped,” They’ll look identical to those of your peers once they’re dry.”Harry seriously doubted that but he didn’t dare voice that thought, instead merely putting the cans of baked beans aside and resuming cooking, opting to just empty them later when he had the chance to.Eventually, just as Harry was finished cooking, his uncle and cousin joined them in the kitchen, wolfing down every bit of food while barely chewing. How they hadn’t choked on it yet Harry didn’t know.Harry, nibbling on a piece of burnt toast noticed as he was looking at both his aunt and uncle together that both of them seemed rather tense today.“ Get the post, Dudley”, Vernon told his son absentmindedly as the doorbell rang.“ Make Harry get it”, the blond retorted, appearing miffed by his father telling him to do something.“ Boy, get the post”, Vernon demanded.“Make Dudley get it”, Harry murmured under his breath, sidestepping his cousin who was aiming to hit him with the stick included in his school essentials. Hitting classmates while the teacher wasn’t looking was apparently a good preparation for the adult world. Regardless, he obeyed his uncle and left the room.As he opened their front door three letters were lying on the ground, bright green script immediately catching his eye.There was an emblem parted into four sections, the first one on the top left displayed a golden lion on a crimson background, and the second one on the top right showed a metallic snake on a green background. On the bottom left was a blackish-grey badger surrounded by yellow, and on the last one a yellow-coloured raven on a blue background was visible.On his way back he read the writing on the back of the envelope:
Mr Harry Potter,
The cupboard under the stairs,4. Privet Drive,Little Whinging,SURREY
“Hurry up, boy!” yelled Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. “What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?” He chuckled at his own joke.The raven-haired boy still stared at the envelope in shock; nobody had ever written to him before. Years ago, he had hoped, dreamed of a stranger coming to take him away from the Dursleys, but his hope and long diminished since then. But right now Harry felt his heart beating in his throat, being the only noise he could hear as he put down the other two letters on the kitchen table.“ Marge’s ill. Ate a funny whelk”, his uncle’s faraway voice registered in his mind as he stared at the letter, the words blurring before his eyes before sharpening again. His aunt responded but what she said was unintelligible to him.“ Dad. Dad, Harry’s got a letter!”, Dudley, the snitch, called out, watching him with narrowed eyes.Harry was about to unfold his letter when Vernon ripped it out of his hand.“ That’s mine, it was addressed to me”, Harry protested. For once not caring about the consequences of his actions he attempted to snatch his letter back.“Please, as if anyone would ever be writing to you.” his uncle sneered at him, nothing but contempt in his eyes as he opened the letter with one hand and turned to glance at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights, and it didn’t stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.“P-P-Petunia!” he gasped, hand on his chest. Harry wondered if all the sugary food finally got to him and caused a heart attack.Dudley too attempted to grab the letter, but he was unsuccessful because his father held it out of his reach. After that, Harry’s aunt, puzzled over her husband’s reaction took it for herself. Her face, just like his uncle’s turned a pale white, looking like she was about to faint as she let out an indistinguishable gurgling noise at the back of her throat.“Vernon. Oh, dear lord”, she choked.They both looked at each other, completely frozen in apparent horror. Their hands were shaking, eyes wide open.His cousin, unlike Harry, wasn’t used to being used to being ignored by his parents, so he hit his father on the head harshly with his Smelting stick.“ I wanna read that letter”, he demanded of his father, holding his hand out expectantly.“ I want to read it, seeing as it is mine”, Harry hissed furiously, rage that he’d bottled up for as long as he remembered slowly bubbling to the surface.“ Get out of the kitchen, both of you”, Vernon croaked, stuffing the letter back in its envelope and resealing it.“ Let me see it!”, Dudley pressed his father, face turning red.“ I WANT MY LETTER!”, Harry shouted, fury overcoming him for the first time in ages at which his aunt further paled.“ GET OUT!”, his uncle roared, face turning red just like his son’s did, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hallway, slamming the kitchen door behind him. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole. Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.“Vernon” Aunt Petunia addressed her husband in a quivering voice, “look at the address. How could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don’t think they’re watching the house?”“Watching, spying, might be following us,” muttered Uncle Vernon madly.“But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don’t want —”, his aunt was cut off by his uncle.“No,” he said finally. “No, we’ll ignore it. If they don’t get an answer… Yes, that’s best… we won’t do anything…”“But —”, she protested before getting cut off again.“I’m not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn’t we swear when we took him in we’d stamp out that dangerous nonsense?”, he snapped. Harry didn’t need to see his uncle to know how furious he looked.That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he’d never done before. He visited Harry in his cupboard.“Where’s my letter?” asked Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. “Who’s writing to me?”“No one. It was addressed to you by mistake,” Uncle Vernon answered curtly. “I threw it in the fireplace.”“It was not a mistake,” Harry hissed angrily, “it literally had my cupboard on it.”“ SILENCE!” yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling while Harry flinched back from his uncle’s familiar angry form. The large man took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.“ Erm, yes, Harry, about your- this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking… you really are getting a bit big for it. We think it might be a good idea if you moved into Dudley’s second bedroom. What do you say?”, his already painful-looking smile twitched.“ Why?” questioned Harry, suspicious. His uncle was the last person on earth he’d expect any niceties of.“Now listen here, you ungrateful little shit” hissed his uncle, his fingers twitching. “Take your stuff upstairs, now, or I’ll show you why”Harry, taking one look at his uncle, just gulped and nodded quietly. It was best not to provoke Vernon further when he got like this.The Dursleys’ house had four bedrooms. One for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors, which was usually Uncle Vernon’s sister, Marge, one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn’t fit into his first bedroom.It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the slightly tattered and dusty bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next-door neighbor’s dog, and in the corner was Dudley’s first-ever television set, which he’d put his foot through when his favourite program had been cancelled. There also was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle that was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it once. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they’d never been touched.From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother:“ I don’t want him in there. I need that room, make him get out!”Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he’d have given anything to be up here. Today he’d rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.The next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock since he’d screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown another tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn’t have his room back. Harry, in the meanwhile, was thinking about breakfast yesterday and bitterly wishing he’d opened the letter in the hall, or just quickly shoved it through the slit under his cupboard door. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who appeared to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted:“ There’s another one! ‘Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Surrey!’”If Harry wasn’t too concerned with his letter, he’d gawk at Dudley’s newfound ability to read.With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leaped from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry’s letter clutched in his hand.“Go to your cupboard- I mean, your bedroom,” he wheezed at Harry. “Dudley, go, just go.”After that happened, Harry paced around in his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to be aware he hadn’t received his first letter. Surely that meant they’d try again? And this time he’d make sure they didn’t fail. He had a plan which he was sure was going to succeed.He shouldn’t have jinxed it.---The repaired alarm clock rang at six o’clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn’t wake the Dursleys. He skipped downstairs without turning on any of the lights while taking care to avoid the steps that squeaked if you stood on them.He was going to wait for the postman outside and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door.Harry choked on a scream as he leaped into the air. He’d stepped onto something big and squashy on the doormat, something that was very much alive!Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror, Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle’s face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn’t do exactly what he’d been trying to do.He berated Harry for about half an hour, thankfully not getting physical, and then told him to go and make him a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into UncleVernon’s lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.“ I want-” he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes.Uncle Vernon didn’t go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.“ See,” he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, “if they can’t deliver them they’ll just give up.”“ I’m not sure that’ll work, Vernon.”, she interjected, looking at her husband as if she feared he’d lost his mind. Harry was pretty sure you couldn’t lose something you never had.“ Oh, these people’s minds work in peculiar ways, Petunia, they’re not like you and I,” Uncle Vernon responded, attempting to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.---On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn’t go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go in or out. He hummed the German song ‘Biber Butzemann’ as he worked, and jumped at small noises. Thanks to attentively listening to his relatives when they spoke their mother tongue, Vernon, or their second language, Petunia and Dudley, Harry was actually pretty well-versed in the language and opted to take it as an elective once he visited Stonewall High.On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window.While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy processing company trying, to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor, with a sour look on her face.“Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?” Dudley asked Harry in amazement.On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.“No post on Sundays”, he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers. “ No damn letters today”, he hummed cheerfully. The rest of them, however, stared at Vernon in concern for his sanity.Be that as it may, his uncle was right, Harry thought despondently. No further letters arrived that day.A few hours later, when dusk came and Harry already finished his tasks to his aunt's satisfaction, he further explored Dudley’s old room and pondered on what to keep and what to throw as he looked around. The books were certainly a plus, seeing as he planned to further extend his knowledge on various topics.He'd managed to keep his good grades -all A’s- secret from the Dursleys by faking a report card. To say that they didn’t like it very much when he achieved better grades than their ickle Duddikins was an understatement, after all. So instead of thwarting his entire career life he just a bit of his lying skills to use. It wasn’t like lying to the Dursleys would hurt them anyway.Furthermore, Harry had applied to Caterham School a few weeks back and they actually accepted him, giving the preteen an art scholarship on top of it since he was pretty talented in the field. He liked having the option of pursuing art as a career, even though he wasn’t going to actively.He hadn’t thought his plan through that well yet, but he’d probably just sneak a few pounds from his aunt’s wallet and drive from Stonewall to Caterham by taxi.Lost in his thoughts, Harry almost didn’t notice the harsh pecking noise outside of his window which turned out to be coming from … an owl? It did make sense for it to be awake right now since owls were nocturnal animals but he didn’t exactly expect one to come knocking on his window with a piece of paper bound to its leg. The poor thing must’ve been the target of a prank by some group of stupid teenage boys.He approached the window slowly, careful not to scare the owl away, lest it hurt itself. When he opened the window, however, it immediately made itself at home, landing on his bed while stretching out the leg on which the piece of paper he now recognized as a letter was bound.If Harry didn’t know any better he would’ve thought the owl commanded him to remove the letter as it was staring at him with a demanding look in its intelligent black eyes.“ Shh, it’s ok, I’m gonna get it off”, the boy carefully approached the owl, gently pulling off the tight wound band, and was shocked to come to face with one of the letters they’d been bombarded with for days.He quickly opened the letter, mindful to be as quiet as possible to not wake the other residents of the house. While he began to read the letter, he absentmindedly stroked the soft brown feathers of the owl that appeared unnaturally tame.
Dear Mr Harry Potter,We are pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft-
What?Harry was no stranger to the practices of Witchcraft. He even read some books about modern paganism, but a whole school was quite excessive, wasn’t it?He would’ve thought it to be a prank of Dursleys, seeing as animal cruelty was involved -Harry utterly despised people who treated animals like toys- but they loathed anything that had to do with the m-word. It seemed quite ridiculous to him that they just struck the word magic out of their vocabulary, it wasn’t even an insult but whatever.Maybe it was just a cult of witches trying to indoctrinate children into doing rituals and worshipping their gods? It certainly seemed like a possibility.But suddenly thought back to all the things that happened around him, and how he managed to produce little lights and summon food. Could it be-?Harry quickly read on. “ …We await your owl”, he murmured, looking down at the owl that was currently enjoying Harry petting it. He grimaced. Maybe Owls of Witches were stronger due to being around magic. At least he hoped so since it appeared that he was going to have to send it back to its owner. How did it even know where he lived?The owl, as if reading his thoughts, lightly pecked him on his arm, looking at him expectantly.“ Yeah, yeah. I’m going to give you a reply, satisfied?”, Harry grumbled, asking himself if it was able to understand him. He certainly never met a barn owl who could.He quickly stood up and took a piece of paper and a slightly chewed pen from one of the drawers and got to writing.
Dear Professor McGonagall,I'm certain that it would be an honour to attend your school but I, unfortunately, don’t know very much about Witchcraft and Wizardry as you call it. Is there maybe a class you can take on customs etc., or a staff member who’d be able to explain it all to me? I’d like to compare my options since I was already accepted into Caterham School.I am also unsure of where to get the things that you listed, so if you could elaborate on that, that’d be wonderful.Regards,Harry Potter
That should cover his main questions, Harry thought satisfied as he put the paper in an envelope and carefully tied it onto the owl’s leg.“ Are you sure you can handle that?”, he asked the owl worriedly, internally wondering if he’d gone mad, speaking to animals.The owl hooted in offence, immediately taking off, out of the still-opened window.“ Well there I have my answer, I guess”, Harry muttered dryly as he watched the owl until it was swallowed by the night before closing the window so as to not waste electricity by overworking the air conditioning.What a day.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Two days later the day of his 11th. birthday came and Harry wondered if something happened to the poor owl that delivered his letter. What if it got attacked by a heron or hawk?In the meanwhile Harry just resumed doing his chores and heavily questioned his uncle's sanity. He was aware that Vernon didn't exactly act like any other person but mixing orange juice into his coffee was a new low even for him. If anything the additional sugar would give him a heart attack, even though it wasn't likely. Let a guy hope.Just as Harry refilled Vernon’s cup for the third time His aunt and cousin came back from shopping, Aunt Petunia having a weird look on her face. Harry immediately got to putting the stuff away.“ So, how was shopping?”, Vernon asked while taking a sip of the sugary concoction he dared to call coffee, not seeming to notice his wife’s mood.Petunia’s lips were pressed into a thin line, looking incredibly revulsed. “ Horrible”, she responded,” There was this queer woman offering to help me carry the groceries. I think she was trying to flirt with me or something.”Vernon’s face immediately turned to a grimace:” They just let people do whatever they want these days. Britain really has gone to the dogs that they let these faggots run around freely.” Harry watched the exchange with a blasé look on his face, very well aware of his relatives' stance on gay people. He just hoped that whatever the revulsion of the idea of marrying and settling down with a woman was because he was apathetic to romance in general. God knows they didn’t need another thing they could hate him for.Then just as Petunia was about to respond to her husband, probably agreeing, the doorbell rang. His aunt closed her mouth and snapped at Harry harshly:” Get the door, it's probably the coffee delivery.Harry instantly complied, putting aside the glasses of jam and marmalade, and left the kitchen.Outside a stern-looking, tall, dark-skinned woman stood, her braided black hair put into a low ponytail. She was very well dressed too. She wore a flawless white blouse, a pair of black trousers, and knee-high black boots with high platforms. Her wrist was adorned by a golden watch that had very strange symbols embedded into it.“ You’re Mr. Potter, I assume?”, the woman inquired, carrying on when Harry nodded,” My name is Aurora Sinistra, Professor Sinistra to you soon, I hope. I was sent as a representative of Hogwarts, may I come in?”“ Of course”, Harry responded automatically, opening the door further for her to enter. He just hoped his relatives had the sensitivity to not blow up at a magic-practicing adult, lest they ruin his chances of getting into the school, or at least an introduction into the wizarding world. Why was it called that anyway? The presence of Professor Sinistra proved there were not only wizards after all.Sinistra bowed her head to the boy in thanks and followed his lead. Harry’s aunt and uncle’s faces immediately paled as their gazes fell onto the woman.“ You must be Mrs. and Mr. Dursley”, the woman spoke evenly, addressing the horrified-looking couple.” I was sent by Hogwarts which I assume you know of due to your connections to the late Lady Potter. We would like to discuss with you why Mr. Potter doesn’t seem to be aware of his heritage”, her expression remained unchanging but Harry caught a note of passive aggressiveness in her voice,” But first and foremost I’d like to ask permission to take your nephew out for buying his school supplies.”Vernon’s face immediately turned an ugly shade of red but Aunt Petunia, who was still quite pale, put her hand on her husband’s arm in a soothing gesture. “ It’s not our responsibility to tell him anything”, her voice was haughty,” If we don’t want him to attend your school then he won’t.”“ I’m afraid that decision lies with Mr. Potter alone”, Sinistra drawled, seemingly already fed up with the Dursleys' attitude,” You legally can’t prevent him from visiting the school if he wishes to. Now if you’ll excuse us.” She stepped out into the hallway, gesturing for Harry to follow her.“ I must apologize for the curt way in which I addressed your relatives”, the tall woman said while pulling out something that looked like a little stone tablet,” You do wish to attend Hogwarts, do you not?”“ Essentially yes, but I’d still like to know what subjects are offered at Hogwarts”, Harry responded, now pretty sure he’d choose Hogwarts over Caterham even if the school had a very strange name. Hogwarts, really? But Professor Sinistra appeared sophisticated enough.“ Now”, Professor Sinistra held up the small stone tablet,” What I have here is called a portkey, it comes in all shapes and forms and is designated to move people’s bodies from one location to a prefixed other. Normally I would apparate -teleporting is a comparable muggle term- you along with me but it’s not a good idea to do so with children as it can stunt their spiritual and physical growth. But I have to warn you, both of these methods can cause momentary sickness, is that fine with you?” Harry merely nodded, staring at the tablet in fascination.“ Good”, the woman took a quick glance at the golden watch that was inscribed with weird symbols,” So what I want you to do is place your hand onto the stone tablet and not let go until I tell you to, don’t panic if you feel something pull at you as that is quite normal.”“ Ok”, Harry responded, affirming that he understood what he was supposed to do, and put his hand onto the stone tablet that Professor Sinistra was still holding onto as well. Just a few moments later he felt a weird pull at his navel and the world around him blurred.“ It’s fine to let go now”, the raven-haired woman’s voice came from in front of him, and Harry opened his eyes that he didn’t even recall closing. And just as Professor Sinistra mentioned, he felt a little sick but the feeling slowly ebbed away anyway.“ You’ve held yourself pretty well for your first time”, the woman praised, giving him a small soothing smile, and suddenly Harry felt more bubbly than anything. What was that about?Professor Sinistra then turned to a brick wall in front of them, and pulled out a long thin stick- a wand maybe? It was probably made of rosewood if he had to guess, the reddish colour was quite the indicator.She then tapped against the wall a few times and Harry held back a gasp as the wall broke apart and opened with a rumbling sound.In front of them, rows upon rows of wondrous-looking buildings stood, women and men dressed in long flowing cloaks making their way through the alley.“ Welcome to Diagon Alley”, Professor Sinistra announced, dark eyes softening as she observed Harry’s reaction.“ It’s beautiful”, Harry breathed, eyes wide in amazement, taking in every little detail.“ Wait until you see Hogwarts”, Professor Sinistra retorted, amusement glittering in her eyes that were now, in the sunlight, more obviously brown.A while after, when Harry was finished admiring the alley, he and Professor Sinistra sat down on the balcony of a shop called Fortescues selling ice cream where they were hidden by a bunch of bushes around them.The woman let out a sigh when Harry stared at her expectantly as she stirred her coffee. “ I guess it’s best to start with the most difficult part. Please don’t interrupt me until I’ve finished”, she continued when Harry nodded,” So, in our world, you are pretty much seen as a messiah. For over a decade before your birth we’ve been to war with a Dark Lord called Voldemort, often referred to as You-Know-Who who wished to take over magical Britain and wipe out those he deemed inferior. Namely, people who have no magical abilities or come from parents who have none, also called Muggles and Muggleborns respectively. Then a year after your birth, he attacked your family for reasons we are not privy to but instead of killing you, his curse backfired and killed him. From that point on you were hailed as our saviour and hero.”Harry spent a few minutes in contemplative silence:” So I’m famous for ending a war?”“ Pretty much”, Professor Sinistra replied,” I know this is a lot for you to process right now, but I’d rather you know before somebody else gets to you.”“ I see, thank you”, Harry responded, still obviously needing a bit of time to take everything in,” People are going to be after me, won't they?”“ Unfortunately such a scenario is pretty likely, considering the circumstances. But I can assure you Hogwarts is one of the safest places in magical Britain. Pretty much no one would dare to attack you there”, she guaranteed, taking a sip of her espresso,” Furthermore if someone does try, they’ll be dealt with accordingly, I promise. Any questions?”“ Well that’s good to know”, the raven murmured,” Could you explain what the Logo on the Hogwarts letter stands for?”“ Professor McGonagall always explains it upon your arrival, but there is no harm in telling you. Essentially, you will be sorted into one of four houses that determine who you will be living with for the next seven years. It is used to encourage friendly competition between students through a point system. Unfortunately, it tends to be taken a bit too seriously sometimes since your attributes determine where you will be sorted. If you are courageous and brave above all you’ll be sorted into Gryffindor, the house of the lion. Ambition and cunning get you into Slytherin, the house of the snake. Then again, if you are more hardworking and loyal you’ll be in Hufflepuff, the house of the badger. And if you crave creativity and knowledge, Ravenclaw, the house of the eagle will be a good fit for you. The houses are named after the school’s founders.”“ And which house were you in, Professor?”, Harry asked, tilting his head curiously.“ I was in Slytherin, but as a warning, many people in it have a very conservative outlook”, Professor Sinistra cautioned,” They would probably look down on you since you have non-magical blood running through your veins.”“ I appreciate the suggestion”, he replied before pausing,” Uhm, Professor, if I can recall it correctly, you referred to my mother as Lady Potter earlier. Does that mean she left me something? Because I doubt the Dursleys are willing to purchase any of the things I need.”“ Your parents left you more than enough, Mr Potter. They were rich, even. I think it’s time to visit the bank anyway”, the black-haired woman stated as she stood up and placed a few golden coins on their table. Harry rushed to follow her as they walked further down the alley, stopping before a white, pristine building.Snow-white stairs led up to tall bronze doors, an armed, small green man -goblin?- on either side of them. Above the doors words were carved:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Fortius Quo Fidelius.‘Strength through loyalty’. Harry guessed he could get behind that even if he hadn’t experienced much loyalty beyond his parents’ sacrifice. People always did what was best for themselves after all. At least they did so in his experience.He quickly bowed to the goblins, whom he was going to keep calling that until corrected, when Sinistra did so, following the woman inside the bank and up to a teller where another goblin sat. Maybe they ran this place.“ An inheritance test, please”, the tall woman was curt but not unkind in her request. “ Do you want me to go with you?”, she asked Harry.“ I think I’ll be fine, thank you”, Harry responded. Or not. The goblins’ weapons didn’t exactly look harmless, but as it appeared to be common practice for Wix it couldn’t be that bad. Hopefully. But he was willing to take that risk for privacy, he apparently didn’t have enough of it anyway due to being famous.“ Please follow me”, the goblin with the name tag Bluefang drawled disinterestedly, which seemed to be their standard expression.Having arrived in a large, also white office, he sat down while the goblin did the same opposite him, a heavy mahogany table between them that was overflowing with stacks of papers.Out of a drawer, Bluefang pulled a needle he swiftly disinfected with a wipe and a grey parchment that he handed Harry.“ Three drops of blood on the parchment”, he drawled, having correctly interpreted the raven’s expression as confusion.Harry complied, pricking his finger softly, the pain a far cry from what he was used to, and watched as one, two, then three drops fell onto the parchment before pulling back his hand, wiping the remaining blood off his finger with a tissue.The boy stared in amazement as words appeared on the document. He guessed this was what Professor Sinistra meant by Inheritance test.
Genetic analysis of Harry James Potter:
Magical Guardian: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Father: James Fleamont Potter, Sirius Orion Black (Blood-adopted)
Mother: Lily Marie Evans-Potter
Godmother/s: Alice Rose Longbottom (nee; Fortescue), Marlene McKinnon
Godfather/s: Remus John Lupin, Severus Tobias Snape
Inheritance:
Heir Potter (J.F.P.)
Heir Peverell (J.F.P.)
Heir Black (S.O.B.)
Heir Slytherin (L.M.E-P.)
Abilities:
Parseltongue
Parselmagic
Metamorphmagus
Blocks etc.:
Loyalty Potion (A.P.W.B.D)
Magical core block: 20% (A.P.W.B.D)
Admittedly, Harry didn’t know what half of these words meant, so it was probably time for him to research.
“ Welcome back to the magical world, Heir Potter”, Bluefang spoke. He’d been peering over the document,” Would you like to claim your heirships now or later? The family magic would also remove most of the influences on you.”
“ That would be wonderful”, the boy replied before pausing,” …How do I go about doing that?”
— — —
After claiming his heirships, four magically concealed rings now resting on his left hand, he went back to Professor Sinistra, who now held a book with the title ‘Hogwarts History’.
“ Unfortunately, I’ll be taking my leave now, so I bought this for you”, the black-haired woman said.” It should answer any questions that you have left. Take it as an early birthday present. Also”, her voice lowered,” The Leaky Cauldron is a good place to stay at if you somehow were not to return to them until the start of the school year.”“ Thank you”, Harry expressed his genuine gratitude for both the present and advice, pressing the book against his chest. It was certainly more than the Dursleys had ever gotten him.
“ It’s no problem”, Professor Sinistra responded, briefly smiling at him, before turning to leave.For a few moments, Harry stood there, rooted to the ground as he watched the dark-skinned woman’s silhouette getting smaller and smaller.He had some shopping to do.Firstly, he pulled out the list that came with his Hogwarts letter:
Hogwarts - School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Uniform
First-year students need:
Three sets of robes (black)
A black, pointed hat for daily wear
A pair of dragonskin gloves
A black winter cloak with silver clasps
Please note that all clothing articles of students are to be labelled.
Textbooks
Miranda Hawk: Textbook of Spells, Book 1
Bathilda Bagshot: History of Magic
Adalbert Schwahfel: Theory of Magic
Phyllida Spore: Thousand Magical herbs and shrooms
Arsenius Bunsen: Potions and Concoctions
Lurch Scamander: Fantastical Beasts and where to find them
Quirin Sumo: The Dark Arts. A Study to Self Defense
Furthermore needed
A wand
A cauldron (Pewter, Standard size 2)
1 glass or crystal vial
1 telescope
1 brass scale
Students are allowed to bring an owl, OR a cat, OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO BRING A BROOM.
Well, wix certainly had interesting naming traditions, that was for sure.To cross the first part of the list out, he visited Madame Malkins, a clothes shop just up the alley for a new wardrobe, primarily choosing cool tones for his clothes. He avoided reds and yellow colours per the seamstresses’ advice, who decided that these would clash with his eyes and skin.Then, he visited Flourish and Blotts, a popular bookshop. There he bought everything on his list, a few books on etiquette, runes, arithmancy, muggle, and wizarding languages, insisting on buying them, now that he finally had the money.Afterwards came the thing, he looked forward to most, a wand.The shop was narrow and dingy. Over the door, it said ‘Ollivander - Good wands since 382 BC’ in flaky golden script. On a purple pillow behind the showcase a lone wand lay.
He entered and from somewhere in the back of the shop the light ringing of a bell sounded. The room was small and empty with the exception of a single chair stood. Harry observed thousands of little boxes stacked carefully on each other, that almost reached the ceiling in height.“ Good Afternoon”, a soft voice greeted. An old man stood in front of him, his wide-opened pale eyes shone like moons in the dark of the shop.
“ Good Afternoon”, Harry responded, feeling kind of uncomfortable beneath the man’s scrutiny.“ Oh yes”, the man said. “Yes, yes, I thought you would come by very soon, Harry Potter. Of course. You have your mother’s eyes. It’s like she herself was here yesterday and bought her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, supple, made from willow.”Mr Ollivander stepped closer to him. “ But your father preferred a wand made from mahogany, eleven inches, elastic. A bit more powerful and excellent for transfiguration. Well, saying that he preferred it isn’t completely right. It’s the wand that chooses the wizard.”The white-haired man was now so close to Harry, that their noses almost touched. The boy just hoped the guy wasn’t a pedophile, and just didn’t know what personal space was.
“ And here…”, Mr Ollivander touched the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead with a long, pale finger. ” Unfortunately, I have to say that it was me who sold the wand that caused this”, he continued softly,” Thirteen and a half inches. Tsk. Powerful wand, very powerful wand, and in the wrong hands… . If I had known what consequences selling that wand would bring… .”The man shook his head,” Well, onto happier matters, Mr Potter. What’s your dominant hand?” He pulled a measuring tape with silver stripers from out his pocket.
“ I’m ambidextrous, but I prefer my left”, Harry responded, glad that the prior conversation had come to an end.And after trying many, many wands, and causing property damage Harry finally found a wand that properly worked for him. Holly with a phoenix feather core.
“ Well, that’s weird”, Mr Ollivander muttered, and silence reigned for a moment, until the raven realized the man wanted him to ask what was so weird.“Sir?”“ Out of all the wands I’ve sold, the phoenix you’re wandcore is from only gave one other feather. And that was to the man that gave you that scar.” Well, that was anticlimatic.