Chapter 1 The Letter

It was as normal a day as could possibly be for Number 4 Privet Drive. The ruddy faced, walrus looking patriarch sat eating his breakfast and reading the morning paper. "Bloody hooligans," he muttered. "Going about getting all worked up over a bloomin' game of footie. Bunch of lunatics if you ask me." Vernon Dursley was a man who brooked no nonsense, and only took the time to view one perspective of a situation, his own.

His wife could not be more of an antithesis to the looks of her husband. Tall and thin, so thin her cheekbones jutted out from her face, and her eyes almost popped out of her head. This combined with large teeth, which jutted out from her mouth, gave her a distinct look of a horse if we continue with the animal motif. "Right you are dear," Petunia Dursley replied, playing the part of a wife from a different era. A wife who gave no quarrel to her husband, whose sole job was to keep the house, and raise the child.

Speaking of, their son, as one could imagine from two horrific looking parents such as his own, took away not the best of both parents, but the worst. He was short and squat, with beady little eyes and horrid teeth. Spoiled in the worst way, and as gluttonous as his father, both of who were upon the very brink of some sort of dietary induced breakdown. Put a squiggly tail on the rear of this poor child and he would be the spitting image of a pig. "I dunno, sounds like a lot of fun to me," he said. "Go to a game and then beat up some idiots. I don't think I could think of a better day." Dudley Dursley showed all the intelligence of a cave man, with none of the physical prowess.

"Now Diddykins, that's not nice," said his mother, with about as much interest as the men of her family had in a diet. She cared little as to what her child did, so long as it did not affect her social standing.

Rounding out this veritable circus of a family was a young boy, about the age of the pig, yet they could not be more dissimilar, much the same as the two adults in the room. While Dudley was short and fat, this child was tall and thin. Dudley had some of the blandest features a boy could have, with sandy hair and dull brown eyes. The other child had jet-black hair, the ebony to the pale ivory of his English skin. And while his hair alone would be enough to make him stand out in a crowd, it was far from his most remarkable feature. Across his brow was a vivid slash, a scar that looked as though it might open up at any second. Shaped like a lightning bolt thrown by Zeus it was a scar that would mark him as a boy not to be trifled with, a scar that spoke to survival through a horrific trauma. And yet this still was not his most remarkable feature. His eyes were an emerald green that looked as though they had to have been painted on by an artist such as Michelangelo. The subtle intricacies of those eyes could warrant a belief in a higher power. And yet, those eyes, which should have been filled with the joyful innocence of youth, which should have simply been beautiful, were filled with a look of haunted longing. Looking out the window, watching a laughing family walk past, the young boy wondered what sins he could have committed to end up in this hell that he was trapped in. Harry Potter, the boy whom the wizarding world knows as the Boy-Who-Lived. They had no idea that he had to earn that epithet daily.

The family turned as the mail fell through the slot and hit the hallway floor. With nothing more than a grunt and a nod from his Uncle, Harry moved to get the contents. Sitting on top was a thick vellum envelope with the words 'Mr. H. Potter' scrawled across the top in ink that matched his emerald green eyes.

Harry began to smile as he stood in the doorway hands clutching the thick envelope reverently to his chest. His first piece of mail . . . ever. Quickly he stuffed it into his pocket and brought the rest of the mail to his uncle Vernon, and cleared the table.

"I'll begin my chores then."

All Harry received in reply was a grunt from his uncle. Harry finished his chores as quickly as he could then ran to the local park so he could read his letter in peace. He opened the strange envelope and his eyes grew wider and wider as he read,

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

Rather than feel elated he felt sick. The Dursley's must have remembered his birthday this year, and decided to play a prank on him. A school for witches and wizards, they were going to have to come up with something better than that if they wanted to fool him.

'Although it was pretty clever, and very thorough. I never thought the Dursley's had any imagination. Plus this letter had way too much detail and information for it to have been from them.'

The more Harry began to think about it the more Harry realized it couldn't have been the Dursley's.

"Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander? There's no way the Dursley's would have come up with that name." Harry said to himself. They were cruel to Harry, and even though the beatings hurt him physically, it truly was the mental abuse that ate at him every day. It was the indifference that they showed him that caused him such anguish. They garnered joy from neither his delight nor his despair. The sad fact was that they would never put any effort into creating something like this, not to create enjoyment, and not to create agony. As Harry worked his way around this logic, he began to think about whom else would have sent him the letter. He toyed with the idea that the letter was real for a moment but quickly dismissed it as a crackpot who gets his jollies from sending the letters out. As he moved to throw the letter in the rubbish bin, he saw the envelope,

Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard Under The Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey

"This can't be real. No way. Magic cannot be real!" He nearly screamed. He was angry now.

If magic was real then why didn't I cast a spell on the Dursley's when they were mean to me? Why did my parents die in a car crash if they could use magic? Why was I forced to live with people who don't love me if I can use magic?

As this last thought hit him he felt something land on his shoulder. A horned owl stood there blinking at him. In daylight . . .

His jaw dropped and the owl stuck its leg out as if waiting for something. He saw other pieces of mail attached there and realized he was waiting for something. He was waiting for Harry's response!

"If this crackpot is good enough to train an owl to follow me out into daylight he deserves a few laughs at my expense." Harry thought.

He quickly scrawled a note out to this deputy Headmistress on the back of her letter.

Dear Ms. McGonagall

I don't even know why I'm doing this, as you're probably not real. I don't know where I would begin if you were. Where is the school? Where would I find the supplies? I have never seen a store that carried cauldrons in it, and unless those light up toy wands that kids sometimes play with work differently for wizards I am positive I've never heard of where to get one. Even if I did my aunt and uncle would never pay for it. They hate me enough already as is.

I don't know if I want this to be real or to wake up and have it all be a dream, but until I do I await your reply.

Sincerely, Harry Potter.

With that he rolled it up, simply wrote Ms. McGonagall and Hogwarts on the outside and attached it to the owls leg. With that it flew off into the sunny sky. Even with that Harry still had some disbelief.

The next couple of days went by slower than any Harry had ever lived. And as each day passed he felt more and more downtrodden. He felt like giving up. The letter had felt like a lifeline. Harry realized it was the first time he could remember feeling hopeful about something. And not just hoping that Uncle Vernon wouldn't beat him tonight, but truly hoping for something good to happen to him. Harry woke the morning of the third day and began the sad morning ritual that was his life. At around 8 o'clock there was a knock at the door.

"Get the door boy!" his uncle spat as they began to knock again. When Harry opened the door he saw the oddest trio of people he had ever seen.

One was an old man whose silver beard and hair were long enough to be tucked into his belt. He looked to little Harry to be about 200 years old. He wore a magenta suit with stars, suns, and moons splayed across it with little to no regard to any sort of pattern. But what really stood out to Harry were his eyes. The light blue eyes that sparkled as if they were a pair of the stars on his suit. They seemed to be smiling and crying at the same time. With a touch of Legilimancy, he felt the horror that he had inadvertently subjected the young boy to. His eyes traveled down the dilapidated body of this miraculous youth, showing signs of obvious abuse.

The second person was a man so big Harry wondered why he hadn't noticed him first. He towered over the other two and by Harry's estimate had to be at least eight feet tall. His jacket could have passed as a tent, and a large one at that. He, too, had a beard though not nearly as long as the older man's and it looked as though it had been cut with a rusty pair of scissors.

The last person of the trio was an older lady. As soon as Harry saw her he knew she was a teacher with her stern glasses and the way her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She looked like the type of person who would put up with very little nonsense and scared Harry more then the man who looked like he could bench press a bus.

"Happy Birthday Harry." Said the man whose eyes still held Harry's interest.

"Yeah, 'appy birfday 'Arry." Repeated the big man in a very thick accent. "Got a cake in ere somewhere." He began to pat the large coat with hands the size of manhole covers. With a sound not unlike stepping into mud it seemed the large man found the cake and he withdrew a slightly squished cake, which read "Happy Birthday Harry!" very originally and in green icing.

"Where are your manners? The both of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves." The woman exclaimed in a very shrill voice, which only lent more credence to Harry's first impression of her. "My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall Harry, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. And these two buffoons are Professor Albus Dumbledore and Rubeus Hagrid."

"As always what would I do without your assistance Minerva? Harry I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Said the old man whom Harry now knew to be Professor Dumbledore. "And I'm Rubeus 'Agrid, but yeh can jess call me 'Agrid. I'm tha gamekeeper and tha Keeper of Keys and Grounds at 'Ogwarts. " The giant said. "Could we come in Harry?" Dumbledore politely asked.

"I should go ask my uncle." Harry nearly whispered as he eyed the man larger than he would have been if he had stood on his own shoulders.

"That yeh should. Would love tah get a chance tah talk to tha man who let 'Arry bloomin' Potter be so clueless all these years." Harry was now absolutely terrified as Hagrid had nearly yelled this and he almost slammed the door in their faces.

"Neither of you should be allowed in public. Look at the boy, he's shaking for heaven's sake!" Professor McGonagall said. "Harry I am sorry for how they are acting. We honestly mean you no harm. Please if you don't mind, go get your aunt and uncle and we will wait here while you do."

Harry quietly closed the door and went to the living room where his so-called family was having a family breakfast with microwavable food, huddled around worshipping the box that gave their lives meaning. "Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, there are some strange people here who would like to talk to you." His uncle struggled to leave his chair while Petunia asked, "What do you mean strange?"

Harry shrugged and said, "You just need to see them to understand."

With that one sentence Harry saw more fear in his aunt than he ever had before. She nearly sprinted to the front door leaving Vernon behind looking very confused.

Petunia said a quick prayer before she opened the door hoping it was just some religious freak. She opened the door quickly, like one would take off a Band-Aid, quick and hopefully painless, even though one knows it will be far from painless.

She suppressed the urge to scream and quickly hissed, "Come in quickly, before the neighbors see you!"

"Lovely to see you too Petunia." Said Dumbledore as he walked in. "We are here to talk to you about Harry. His future and evidently his past as well."

At this moment Vernon came into the hallway and saw his worst nightmare standing in his hallway. "WHAT ARE YOU FREAKS DOING IN MY HOUSE?" He bellowed. "Vernon the neighbors!" rasped Petunia in an attempt to calm her husband down.

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE BLOODY NEIGHBORS! WHY WOULD YOU LET THEM IN MY HOUSE!" With this last outburst he struck his wife across the face with an open hand.

"Mr. Dursley I would highly recommend you calm down now." Said Dumbledore, his eyes no longer showing the twinkle, which showed both happiness at seeing the boy and sadness at seeing the condition he was in, but anger, cold and piercing. His eyes were no longer like the stars, but like an iceberg. Invincible and uncaring. These eyes promised pain if he was not listened to.

Vernon quailed under the intensity of those eyes and he realized, too late, he had made a grave mistake. Petunia yelled, "Dudley go play video games in your room."

"But Mom," Dudley yelled back, "Show's almost over!" "NOW!" Petunia shrieked using the voice that left no room for argument. Dudley waddled passed them fake tears streaming down his face until he saw the guests, at which point he sprinted (as much as he could) up the stairs.

"Why don't we all go sit in the living room?" Petunia said attempting to defuse the situation. Harry was unsure of what to do as this clearly had to do with his letter but he also had never seen his aunt this scared, and while beating his wife and nephew were nothing new for Vernon, Harry most certainly didn't want to receive one. His curiosity quickly overcame his fear and he followed the adults into the living room.

The room seemed fit to explode at any moment as Harry waited for someone to break the silence. After what seemed like hours, Dumbledore spoke. "I had intended this to be a cordial visit Vernon, but I see this is already a lost cause. Harry received his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts and his reply had us concerned. Rightfully so it would seem." No sooner had the words left his mouth had Vernon lunged for Harry with murder promised in his eyes. A bright red light shot through the air and struck Vernon mid leap, and he collapsed to the floor. Hagrid gave him a small kick with a muttered, "Bloody muggles."

"With your husband out of the way Petunia I hope we can finish this conversation in a civilized manner. Now after seeing the state that the young boy is in I no longer believe this to be the best environment for Harry to be in. If it is agreeable with him I will be taking him from your care until further notice."

"What about his safety Mr. Dumbledore?" said Petunia, showing a side of her that Harry had never seen before. A side that cared whether he lived or died.

"Hogwarts was the only other place that I would feel comfortable having Harry stay. While your household has protections for Harry that no other place could possibly have, Hogwarts has protections for all her students. Now Harry, I know this is all a lot to take in at once, but I truly hope you will consider my offer. "

At this Harry grew unexpectedly nervous. He had never known a place other than number 4 Privet Drive. What if this Hogwarts was worse? What if it was still a practical joke the Dursley's were playing on him? These questions and more raced through his mind as he considered Dumbledore's proposal.

Once again curiosity and hope overcame the fear of the unknown for Harry. "Alright, I'll go live at this Hogwarts."

Author's Note: Please Review. I have no idea if this is any good and would truly appreciate some feedback. I plan on finishing year 1 by the end of the month if the feedback is good.