A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. So, about this story: I've had this idea for a while. I'm not sure how interesting it is to you people, but if you don't like it, don't read it. If you do, however, please review! By the way, there were exactly twenty-four students Sorted in Harry's year. I made a list. Enjoy!
Minerva McGonagall sat in her fairly dark office, shuffling the pile of envelopes in her hand. The office was devoid of decoration, save for a Gryffindor banner by the door, and everything – down to the last piece of parchment and quill – had its place and was in it. McGonagall shunned unnecessary clutter and confusion. The stuffy heat of summer had forced her to open a window, sending the flames from her candles twisting and jerking in the wind.
"There," she muttered with satisfaction, her Scottish accent rather heavy and attesting to her exhaustion. In her hands were exactly twenty-four envelopes, and each contained a letter. Some of the letters would be received with excitement and anticipation. A few would be received with total surprise and shock.
She didn't, and really couldn't know at the time, but one would not be received at all.
Professor McGonagall was weary from a long day's work, and had much more to do. But probably the most important event of the night was completed. Just to be sure, McGonagall filed through the stack of envelopes, which she had alphabetized for efficiency, and pulled out an exceptionally special one.
Mr. H Potter
Cupboard Under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
The Transfiguration teacher shuddered slightly. She'd been there eleven years ago, when Albus had first dropped young Harry off at his cousins' doorstep. Although she understood his reasons, McGonagall hated to leave him at such a horrid place. It seemed that those despicable Muggles had hardly improved, she thought, thinking about poor Harry shoved in a cupboard under some stairs.
Holding the envelope contemplatively, McGonagall didn't hear the gusty WHOOSH of wind as it squeezed through her window. In an instant, the exceptionally special envelope had been plucked from her hand and pulled outside the window with the breeze.
She jumped out of her chair and fumbled for her wand, knowing that the Hogwarts Lake was directly beside her office. "Accio envelope!" she yelled, running to the window, thankful that her room wasn't as cluttered as the Headmaster's and there was nothing to trip over or knock down.
Something wet flopped back through her window and made a deflating sound as it landed on the floor. She hadn't been fast enough.
"Oh, Merlin," she mumbled, seeing the sopping wet, paper-ish mush on the floor. Already knowing that she had to write another one, she promptly Vanished the mess and sank back into her chair.
However, even Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher, Head of Gryffindor House, was human. Long nights were not uncommon to her, but with getting everything ready for the upcoming school year she had been at least three times as busy as usual. When the second letter was finished she slipped into another envelope, and wrote out the address.
Mr. H Potter
Cupboard Under the Stairs
40 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Her tired eyes slid right over the mistake, and wanting to get onto the next task for that evening (writing out Hogsmeade permission forms for the third-years), she walked back to the window and whistled.
A group of assorted owls swooped into her office, once again making McGonagall glad that there was nothing for them to disrupt or break. She took the letters in her arms and gave one to each owl. Harry's envelope was given to a ruby-colored Short Eared owl, with an extra instruction to 'make sure he takes and reads it.'
When all the envelopes were distributed, McGonagall waved a weary hand at the window, and the flock took off. With absolutely no inkling that her mistake was to change the course of Muggle and Wizard history, Professor McGonagall sat down at her desk, loosed a great, gusty sigh, and tiredly took out a new roll of parchment.