How everything began

He stood in front of a middle seized stone house. He took a deep breath. He knew he had to do this, but was it really the right thing to do? His kind didn't like muggle, but his girlfriend had agreed with him. He had to tell someone. He had to tell in case something happened to him. They had a Right to know what happened in the last few years; what has happened a long time ago. Now he was here. He stepped forward and knocked on the door. Seconds later a woman opened. Before she could say anything, he began to speak.
"Good morning, my name is Harry Potter. What I'm going to tell you might seem a bit unbelievingly, Mrs. Rowling."
"C-come in," the woman stuttered. "Call me Joanne."

"You are trying to tell me that magic is real?"
"Yes, Joanne," Harry said, sipping his coffee. "And I would like you to write about what happened to me."
"About Voldemort and Hogwarts?" Joanne asked.
"If you don't believe me, then..."
"Of course I do!" the woman smiled. "I always thought that magic is somehow real."

The next few moths Harry visited her as often as he could to tell her about his first year at Hogwarts. Joanne wrote everything down, becoming more and more interested. And then, half a year later, it was time. The first book was out.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher stone


Harry liked to remember that day. That day ten years ago. He now stood in the graveyard his parents were buried, holding the last and seventh book in his hands, remembering the day he had been holding the first book in his hands.
"I did it," he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I told them. They now know about magic. They know what we have been through to save them. They know." He sobbed before he continued. "Merry Christmas and a happy new year, mum and dad."