I spent a day on-and-off with this concept and it's honestly one that's been in my head for quite a while.

Hope you all enjoy - and remember that reviews are the bane of a writers existence. *grin*


Harry didn't question his Uncle's order when he was told to go get the newly arrived mail. Nor did he think to shuffle through the letters (Why should he? No one wrote to him anyway). He merely fetched said letters, deposited them in front of his Uncle and returned to cooking breakfast.

He didn't bat an eyelash when his Uncle half-choked on a string of bacon, his eyes bulging out at an unusual letter not addressed to any Dursley. He also missed the significant glance between his guardians while he busied himself with another portion of this morning's fry-up.

He didn't think of any other answer than,

"No sir, of course not."

In the utmost sincerity when his Aunt and Uncle asked him if he'd read the letter addressed (Surely by mistake.) to him. He responded just the same when his Aunt explained that it was from a school of magic; an invitation to learn said magic.

Sent to bed under the stairs, confused by his Aunt's lenience in letting him eat some leftover dessert, Harry thought nothing more on the subject, though he did dream of the flying motorbike once more.

Meanwhile his guardians sat beaming at their television, pleased not with the sit-com but with the fact that they had indeed managed to beat the magic out of their nephew.

Harry Potter would not be the wizard his parents were.

The next morning, Harry did as he was told and wrote on the back of the parchment with a pen that he was declining the offer to study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not knowing how to deliver the letter, Petunia stamped it, dropped it off at the local post box and hoped for the best.

The letter gave Professor Minerva McGonagall a near-heart attack and it wasn't until she downed a claming draught that she could think of what to do with such a reply. Recalling what she had observed of the Dursleys, she made it her highest priority to pay them a visit. Though between this decision and her calming draught she did, of course, consult Albus Dumbledore.

She checked what times Muggle schools typically finished and arrived at Number Four Privet Drive at a prompt four o'clock the next day. It was Petunia who met her at the door – everyone else save Harry was out at the time and Harry knew better than to do something as revealing as opening the front door.

Minerva found herself drawing distinct parallels between Lily and her sister as Petunia made it adamantly known that she did not in the slightest appreciate the Transfiguration Professor's presence. The older woman did her best to stay as genial as she could manage having quickly concluded that Harry's declination was likely a result of his guardians direct interference.

But as Minerva got to the crux of the matter and it became clear exactly why she was imposing on the Dursley's home, Petunia became rather more relaxed. Disturbingly so, in the Professors opinion. Only a woman with nothing to loose could look so relaxed. Thus it was with no little trepidation that Professor McGonagall asked to speak with Harry – alone.

Harry soon found himself drawn from his garden solace as per his Aunt's order. He approached the lounge room with much worry weighing down his movements. He knew his standing orders one of the most prominent being that he never spoke to strangers. But his Aunt had given him permission this time, so he entered the room and, seeing a prim elderly lady sitting opposite the door, he took a seat.

For a moment, the lady with her tightly wound grey hair just sat and watched him. He lowered his eyes ("Don't stare! Don't be so rude!") and obeyed one of the other standing rules about speaking to others; never speak unless spoken to.

The lady in green asked him how he liked it at the Dursley's. His confused twist of his expression was missed only by him as he responded that it was a good home, that the Dursley's were fair and that he knew he was lucky to have such a household.

Silence was the flavour again as Harry's downcast gaze missed the prim lady's thinned lips. She tried again;

"Did you receive your Hogwarts letter?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"And what did you think of it?"

For a moment his confusion was so overwhelming that he tipped his head up and looked her straight in the eye. His eyes widened a little as he realised what he'd down and swiftly looked away again.

"Wi-with all due respect, I wasn't very interested, ma'am."

Professor McGonagall was often tasked with visiting Muggle-borns' homes when they were accepted at Hogwarts. Many Muggles had their doubts about Hogwarts.

But this was one rebuttal she had never come across.

"You weren't interested in Hogwarts? Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"No ma'am. I have no interest in magic."

Harry repeated his most insistent lesson in a deadpan tone. It was this very tone that worried the Professor the most and she felt that the tone was worth the guilt over playing her next and last card.

"Both your parents were magical, Mr. Potter. Both James and Lily attended Hogwarts."

The eleven-year-olds look and accompanying reply sent shivers up her spine for reasons she wouldn't know until years later.

"I'm not my parents, ma'am."

Deep into that same evening, Professor McGonagall swirled her tumbler and reflected that today out of all days she definitely deserved her blastscotch. Speaking to Harry Potter - Harry Potter who was not interested in magic - had certainly been harrowing. But far less so than her meeting with Hogwarts Headmaster that past afternoon.

The Headmaster would talk to the boy.

The Headmaster would convince the boy.

The Headmaster would coerce the boy into attending.

The Headmaster would force the boy into attending.

The Headmaster would do something.

Or so she had thought.

Instead, she was treated to a single dull twinkle of his ancient eyes and told;

"If that is indeed what young Harry wishes, then we've no right to force him otherwise. Not while there is no immediate threat to his saftey."

Which meant that there was no hope of magic that Harry Potter would be attending Hogwarts that year.

So, all in all, Minerva McGonagall did indeed deserve her single malt blastscotch.


Sorry Dumbledore haters - no bashing here. I always thought it was kinda OOC when Dumbledore would go to the ends of magic to force Harry to go to Hogwarts.

Please remember to review.