AN/: Hello, first story I have written in a long time. Hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; I have no rights to Harry Potter, the characters, the plot or setting. All of these things belong to J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. I would thank you not to sue me. If I did own the things that belong to J.K Rowling, I could pay off any lawsuits.
BOOM! They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.
"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.
There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hand – now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.
"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you- I'm armed."
There was a pause. Then-
SMASH!
The door hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.
A small silhouette was standing in the doorway. It stepped forward. Her face was round, but at first seemed hidden by her long wild, tangled hair. You could just make out her eyes, glinting in merriment.
The woman looked to be in her thirties. She walked into the hut. She pulled a stick out of her sleeve and waved it. The door flew back into place.
"Couldn't make a cuppa for me, could you? It hasn't exactly been an easy journey."
She strode over to Dudley, he sat frozen on the couch.
"Budge up, piggy." Said the stranger.
Dudley squealed and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.
"And here's Harry!" She cried. Harry looked up into her eyes and saw her looking at him in familiarity. "The last time I saw you, you were only a baby. You look so much like your father, James. But you have Lily's eyes. Lovely Lily, that's what old Sluggy called her."
uncle Vernon made a funny, rasping noise. "I demand you leave at once, miss! You are breaking and entering."
"Ah, shut up, Dursley, you ignorant jerk." She flicked the stick again and the rifle turned into dust. Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, he sounded like a mouse that had been stepped on.
"Anyway- Harry," she said "a very happy birthday to you. I have something for you. I have something for you. It may have gotten squished on the ride over, but it will taste alright."
From inside the satchel on her side, she pulled out a box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. It was a sticky chocolate that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY, in green icing.
"Hagrid and I made that for you." Harry looked at the woman. He meant to say thank-you but ended up saying: "Who are you?"
The woman laughed. "Dreama is the name, Dreama Little. Care of the Magical creatures' professor at Hogwarts." She held out her hand and grasped Harry's.
"Now, how about that tea, then?" she made a slight flicking motion with her stick and a fire sprang forth from the shrivelled chip bags in the fire grate. Harry felt the warmth wash over him as if he had just sunk into a nice, warm bath.
The woman sank back onto the sofa and reached into her bag again. She began pulling out all sorts of things. A kettle, a package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several blue mugs and some strange green and purple bottle, which she took a swig from before she set about making tea. Soon the hut was filled with the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said anything while Dreama was working, but as she slid the first six, fat, juicy and slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything she gives you Dudley."
Dreama laughed, when she did that she sounded slightly mad. Like…bedlam mad.
"Your great, fat son don't need to be fattened up by me, Dursley, you've done that, don't worry."
She passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off Dreama. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."
Dreama took a sip of her tea, and wiped her mouth with her hand. "Call me Dreamy, everyone does. Like I said, I teach Care of the Magical Creature's at Hogwarts. You know about Hogwarts, don't you?"
"Er- no," said Harry.
Dreama looked shocked and angry.
"Sorry." Harry said quickly.
"SORRY?" roared Dreama. She turned to stare at the Dursely's, who shrank back into the shadows. "IT'S THEM WHO SHOULD BE SORRY! I KNEW YOU WEREN'T GETTING YOUR LETTERS BUT I NEVER THOUGHT I'D HAVE TO TELL YOU ABOUT HOGWARTS! I mean, where did you think your parents learned it all?" the sudden change from her screaming to a kind, soft voice was startling.
"All what?" asked Harry.
ALL WHAT?" she was screaming again. "NOW WAIT JUST ONE SECOND!" She had leapt to her feet. In her anger she seemed to make the oxygen in the air leave. The Dursley's were cowering against the wall.
"Do you mean to tell me, that this boy – THIS boy- knows nothing about ANYTHING?"
Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school after all, and his marks weren't bad.
"I know some things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff."
Dreama looked at him with a slightly annoyed face and said "About our world, I mean, your world. My world. Your parents' world."
"What world?"
Dreama looked like she was going to have an aneurism. "DURSLEY!"
Uncle Vernon had gone very pale and whispered something that sounded like "mimblewimble". Dreama stared at Harry.
"But you must know about your mom and dad," she said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."
"What? My- my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"
"You don't know about James and Lily? You- you don't know?" Dreama ran a hand through her hair. Suddenly, she looked ready to cry. She fixed Harry with a stare and said, "You don't know what you are?"
Uncle Vernon seemed to have found his voice. "Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, ma'am! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"
A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quaked under the look that Dreama was giving him. When she spoke, every whispered syllable trembled with barely suppressed rage.
"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter that Dumbledore left for him? I know there was a letter. Dumbledore told me so, Dursley. You've kept it from him all these years?"
"Kept what from me?" Harry asked eagerly.
"STOP! I forbid you!" yelled Vernon in a panic. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.
"Go eat a flobber-worm, the both of you. Harry, you're a Wizard."
There was silence in the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind was heard. "I'm a what?" gasped Harry.
"A wizard, of course." Said Dreama, sitting back on the sofa. "And, knowing your parents, you'll be a great wizard. Once we get you trained up a bit, of course. I think, it's time that you got your letter." Harry reached out to grab the, now familiar, yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald ink to a Mr H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The sea. He pulled out the letter and read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY.
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, first class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, international confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than july 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy headmistress.