It's the end of the war; Sirius never died and Harry and his friends are celebrating in the Room of Requirement.
Disclaimer – all writing in bold and italics (like this) is the work of J.K Rowling from Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone, and is the property of her and whoever else happens to own it; not me. The characters also belong to her, and I am not in it to make any profit, nor pass off her work as my own.
The trio were curled up on the sofas that cluttered the room, and Ginny and the twins were sprawled on the floor. None of them were talking; they were revelling in the relaxed atmosphere that the defeat of Voldemort allowed them to have. It had been two weeks since the 5 of them, along with Sirius, Remus, the rest of the Weasley family and some of the Professors had cast the fateful spell that had cost the most evil wizard of their time his life. The following few days had been spent in a flurry of interviews and clean-up operations, so this night was the first that they had been able to spend together, relaxing properly for the first time in years.
Suddenly, a large crate of Butterbeers appeared in the middle of the room, next to a box of Chocolate Frogs that lay near George's head.
"Ah I love this room," said Fred, lazily, reaching out for a bottle and opening it with a satisfying 'pop.'
Harry grinned and reached out to grab one for himself, Ron and Hermione, when the door to the Room burst open and a flurry of laughter joined met their ears. Freezing, Harry looked up in time to see his godfather, Remus, Tonks, Bill, Charlie, and Professors McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore close the door behind them; Sirius was laughing at something Bill had said, and all looked faintly amused, with the exception of Snape, who was glaring as though he didn't want to be there, but was compelled to be (probably by Dumbledore).
Tonks spotted them first and muttered a warning to Charlie, who was in the middle of telling a rather explicit joke, although she looked as though she was trying not to laugh as she did so. Confused as to why Charlie had stopped, the rest of the group turned to see the laughing teenagers watching them.
"Seems like you lot had the same idea."
Harry shrugged, "it's either in here or answering millions of questions in the Common Room…"
"I know the feeling; if Sybill Trelawney doesn't stop telling me that her Inner Eye foresaw the Battle but told her not to interfere, I'm going to stick her Inner Eye where all it can see is…"
"Remus!" Professor McGonagall interrupted him, though she looked to be hiding a smile, and even her outburst could not hide Ron's snort from where he was slumped next to Harry.
Harry, who was laughing, made to stand up, saying "We'll leave you to it then. People will be wondering where we are anyway."
"Don't be daft, no reason why we should kick you out. The Room can give you anything you want; we'll just make it bigger…" Even as Sirius spoke, the Room grew to twice the size it had previously been, providing more than enough chairs for everyone, and much more food and drinks than the entire population of Hogwarts could eat at the Halloween feast.
"Why didn't I know this Room was here when I was at Hogwarts?"
"Cos you were bloody Head Boy, and you got loads of OWLS and NEWTS…you were probably too busy studying!"
"Ron, your best mate is the more studious than I ever was, and she seems to be in here with you. Come to think of it, how did you lot find out about it?"
"Long story; one that involves Umbridge and Dobby…wow that's a weird combination…"
"Huh?"
"Like I said; long story."
"We've got time."
"You know Harry, now I think about it; I don't really know anything about what you've been doing at Hogwarts until last year…which is really bad considering I'm your Godfather…"
"Slightly Sirius, yes…"
"Shut it Moony, I doubt you know much more."
"Seeing as I taught him for a year I'd say I do."
"Oh shut up bickering you two, you sound like an old married couple!"
"Sorry Minerva."
"So anyway, Harry, please tell me you broke rules that don't involve fighting Voldemort…"
"Love to tell you Sirius, but you seem to be forgetting that there are three Professors stood right behind you, and I don't really want house points taken off thanks…"
"Now Harry, I'm sure your Professors wouldn't take any points off you if you were to tell; after all, it all happened in the past, and people shouldn't punish others for past mistakes." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he looked between Sirius and Snape as he spoke.
"I must admit that I am curious about the truth behind some of the rumours in the staff room…" confessed McGonagall grudgingly.
"Yeah, come on Harry, tell us! Ron will if you won't, won't you Ron…?"
"Sure Tonks, as long as there aren't any teachers around…"
"Headmaster, I think it prudent that I leave before you divulge in such….delightful story-telling."
"No Severus, I believe that you should hear some of what Mr. Potter is going to say."
Knowing that he couldn't argue with Dumbledore, Snape scowled darkly, but sat in a chair furthest away from the teenagers, glaring at the wall, which, obligingly glared back.
"Well now that's settled, I believe that you were going to tell us about your years at Hogwarts," Dumbledore smiled genially at the stricken teenagers, who were glancing nervously at each other.
"Do we have a choice about this?"
"No."
"Can we cut bits out that we don't want people to hear?"
"No 'cos you're going to show us what happened!"
"What?"
"Yeah, ask the Room for a pensieve, and then cast the 'vita fabula' spell. It'll pick out a selection of your memories between you and then we can watch them, like a film!"
"You're mad Tonks!"
"I suppose it does sound better than telling it though."
"Hermione!"
"What?! We're going to end up telling them anyway, and this way, we'll be able to watch it happening. I think it'll be quite fun, because we'll be seeing things from each other's perspective, and we'll remember things we didn't know we'd remember…"
The twins, Harry, Ron and Ginny quickly entered into a muttered conference, and then broke apart, Harry looking the most reluctant out of any of them.
"Ok, but on three conditions. You're not to hold any of this against us after we've shown you. You're not to take away any house points, and you're not allowed to mention this to anyone else, especially Mum and Dad." Ron looked pointedly at Bill and Charlie as he spoke.
"Fair enough."
"Sounds good to me."
"Severus?"
Snape scowled darkly and muttered an angry affirmative.
Sighing resignedly, Harry wished for a pensieve, scowling as one appeared on a table in front of him, Ron and Hermione.
"Here goes nothing. Hermione, you cast it?"
"Vita Fabula."
Harry felt a strange sensation in his head, not unlike the one he had felt during his Occulmency lessons with Snape last year, although definitely not as painful. After thirty seconds or so of this, his vision cleared, and the bowl in front of him seemed to be filled with the same shimmery substance that he had seen in both Snape and Dumbledore's pensieve.
"What do we do now?"
"Honestly Ronald, do you not read?"
"Nope, you know that 'Mione."
Hermione huffed and raised her wand again, saying "Vigilo Mihi" as she did so. Immediately, light projected from the pensieve onto a blank wall opposite to where the group were sat, like an old fashioned movie theatre.
Intrigued, despite himself, Harry stared at the light and watched as the memories began to play themselves.
"Hermione darling, there's a letter for you on the table."
"Thanks Mum."
"Ooh, it's showing us getting out Hogwarts letters," Hermione beamed excitedly.
Hermione ran down the stairs in what seemed to be an ordinary Muggle home, her bushy hair flying out behind her.
"Wow, I didn't know your hair could be any bushier Hermione!"
There was a resounding 'slap' as Hermione proceeded to hit Fred in the face, and then return calmly to watching the memories, followed by a muttered apology from the injured twin.
Hermione grabbed the letter off the table and ripped it open, her eyes widening as she read the letter.
"Mum…the letter says that…well it says that I'm a witch…but there's no such thing as magic is there Mum? I mean obviously there's books about it, I've read them, King Arthur and the like, but it's not real is it Mum? But if it's not real, then why is the letter telling me that I'm a witch Mum?"
"Wow, no offence Hermione, but that's a lot of questions."
"Seriously Tonks, you should try hanging out with her, it's worse believe me."
"Shush darling, let me see that letter?"
Hermione quickly handed the letter to her mother, who read it with a frown on her face.
"It seems to be somebody playing a joke, darling, though I don't know how they got your address…they've even got your bedroom on it. I think we should phone the police sweetheart, can you go and get your Dad for me?"
Hermione nodded eagerly and flew out of the room, returning a moment later with a tall, greying man who had the same eyes as his daughter. Silently holding his hand out for the letter, he read it, his brow creasing as he did so.
"I think your Mum's right petal; someone's playing a joke on you. I think we'd be better off phoning the…"
Mr. Granger was cut off by a knock at the door, and went to answer it. Hermione could hear nothing but a muffled conversation and what sounded like her father making threats. He then walked back into the kitchen accompanied by a stern looking Professor McGonagall, who was holding her wand firmly in her hand.
Hermione blushed and glanced at McGonagall, who looked like she was trying to hide a smile.
"Sorry about that Professor."
"Don't be Miss. Granger; I've had much worse believe me."
"This woman claims to be from the same school that this letter's on about dear; says she can prove to us that Hermione's a witch."
Mrs. Granger's eyes narrowed, but she nodded at McGonagall politely.
"Good afternoon, my name is Professor Minerva McGonagall, and I am the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am here today to inform you that your daughter is, indeed a witch, and I am willing to answer any questions that you may have."
"Hermione's a witch you say?" frowned Mr. Granger, "that would make you one too then?"
"Yes."
"Prove it."
Hermione was watching this with intrigue on her face; she might have been intelligent for her age, but she was still eleven years old, and don't all children want to believe that magic is real?
"Of course," McGonagall quietly pointed her wand at the sink, and it proceeded to wash up all the dirty pots that had been left after breakfast.
Hermione's parents' faces paled considerably and her mother had to sit down quickly.
"How did you do that?"
"I am a witch, Mr. Granger, as is your daughter. I am here to invite her to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, of which Professor Albus Dumbledore is the Headmaster."
"Hermione's a witch…she's really a witch?"
"Think back, Mrs. Granger, to Hermione's childhood. Did she ever do anything strange, or unexplained?"
"There was that time…" began Hermione's mother slowly, "…when that boy ruined her science project. The next morning, it was on her desk again, as good as new."
"What about that time when she broke her arm, and it meant she couldn't write, but she had exams…it healed again overnight…the doctors were stumped."
Everybody stared, hard, at Hermione, who was blushing deeply.
"You used accidental magic so that you could SIT exams?"
"You know what I used to be like…"
"You still are Hermione."
"…yeah well, my parents were really clever, and they pushed me a lot." Hermione blushed even further.
"You'd do the same now, wouldn't you?" grinned Harry.
"Of course I would! NEWTs are next year you know, the most important exams you'll ever sit…"
She trailed off as Harry, Ron and the twins burst out laughing, knowing she'd been wound up.
"There's the Hermione we know and love," giggle Ginny, tears running down her face.
Harry snorted, and then returned to the memories, which recommenced as everyone's attention turned back to them.
"Of course they were Mr. Granger; your daughter used what we call 'accidental magic.' It occurs to all magical children as they are growing up."
"So…what does this mean?"
"Hogwarts is, essentially, a boarding school. Hermione would reside there through term time, but be allowed home for the holidays. Of course, she could remain there should she wish to, but many students prefer to return home to their families."
Mr. Granger nodded slowly, whilst looking at his wife. "We'll have to talk about this…"
"Of course."
"Is there anything that we could read on the subject…?"
"There is a very good book written by Roderick H. Eximius called 'Hogwarts: A History.' I believe that you will find sufficient information in there, and will have a copy sent to you."
"That book was written by the Founders you know."
Hermione smiled and nodded, but the rest of the teens looked confused, until Harry figured it out.
"Of course; Roderick – that's Rowena and Godric – H, which is Helga Hufflepuff, then Eximius, which is…..exceptional, so that would be bloody big-headed Slytherin…"
Hermione looked quite impressed that he'd figured it out and Harry noticed.
"What, I'm not allowed to be able to figure things out on my own now?"
Hermione just looked amused and turned back to the pensieve which was showing McGonagall leaving Hermione's house, and then changed to The Burrow.
"I don't know why it's showing me getting my letter; mine's boring."
The Weasley family sat around the kitchen table that Harry now knew so well. Unnoticed by anyone in the room, four owls were flying towards the window, each carrying thick, heavy envelopes. It was only when the owls tapped on the window that Mrs. Weasley looked up and instructed Percy to open it...
"Oh good, your Hogwarts letters are here; we'll have to go into Diagon Alley tomorrow, so make sure you make a list of everything you need."
"Mum! Mum! I've got a letter Mum! I'm going to Hogwarts!!"
Everyone laughed and Ron blushed deeply.
"Yeah, yeah, alright…to be fair, I had had 5 brothers go before me and tell me how wonderful it was, no wonder I was excited."
"Well of course you have dear, that's wonderful, we're so proud of you, aren't we Arthur?"
"Of course we are Ron; we'll have to go and get you your wand tomorrow!"
Ron's face lit up and he grinned from ear to ear, "I'm going to get to do magic! For real!"
The pensieve swirled again and everyone looked at Ron, who was bright red and slumped in his chair. Before anyone had time to comment though, the memories started up again, showing a weedy looking eleven year old Harry walking into the Dursley's kitchen with a pinched look on his face.
"What's this?"
"Your new school uniform."
"Oh. I didn't realise it had to be so wet."
"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things grey for you. It'll look like everyone else's when I've finished."
"You're supposed to wear that?" exclaimed Ron in disgust. "It looks like an elephant's shed its skin and then it's decomposed for a bit!"
Everyone laughed, and turned back to the memories.
Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual, and Dudley banged his Smeltings stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.
They heard the click of the letterbox and flop of letters on the doormat.
"Get the post Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.
"Make Harry get it."
"Get the post Harry."
"Make Dudley get it.
"Poke him with your Smeltings stick Dudley."
"His what?"
"Smeltings stick. It's the name of the school he goes to; they give everyone a stick to hit people with, no idea why."
"Your uncle let him use it on you?"
Harry just raised his eyebrows at George, who grinned apologetically.
"Yeah, you're right, stupid question."
Throughout this exchange, the adults had remained silent, but had exchanged worried looks. They knew Harry didn't like his relatives, but none of them really knew why.
Harry dodged the Smeltings stick and went to get the post. Three things lay on the doormat; a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, who was holidaying on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill and – a letter for Harry.
Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No-one ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives – he didn't belong to the library so he'd never even gotten rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake.
Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
"The what under the stairs?!"
"Harry. Why is your Hogwarts letter addressed to a cupboard?"
Harry blushed and glanced at Hermione for help before answering his Godfather.
"Because that was my room until I left for Hogwarts."
There was silence for a minute and then;
"How big was this cupboard…?"
This time, Harry glanced helplessly at the twins, who he knew had been there before, asking them desperately, silently, to keep quiet; to let him lie.
"Erm, it's fairly big. It's the size of a small bedroom really."
"No it's not."
"We've been there."
"It's tiny."
"His trunk barely fit in there."
Sirius' lips thinned and he glared at the wall but said nothing. Bill, Charlie and Tonks looked uncomfortable, and Professor McGonagall was looking at Dumbledore with narrowed eyes. Dumbledore, in turn, was scrutinising Harry carefully, his blue eyes no longer twinkling, as was Remus; Snape had no expression on his face, but he was no longer glaring at the wall that was, however, still glaring at him.
"Hurry up boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon…
"Boy? Doesn't he know you have a name?"
"…what are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.
Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter.
"What are you doing?! Don't open it in there; they'll take it off you!"
"Yes, thanks Ron, I realise that now. However, I was eleven at the time, and a little naïve."
"A little naïve?! You were an idiot mate."
"Thanks."
"Any time."
"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly, "Harry's got something."
"What a git!"
Harry was at the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.
"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.
"You tell him Harry."
"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights.
"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.
Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment, it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.
"Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!"
"They seriously didn't think that this might happen? Petunia knew you had to be a wizard; both your parents were! She knows what age her sister got her letter…"
"They tried to stamp the magic out of me," said Harry, matter of factly. "I guess they hoped it worked."
"What do you mean, stamp it out of you?"
Harry blushed slightly, clearing his throat. "Oh, you know, just forbidding me to use the word, and not mentioning it to me that I was a wizard and stuff."
No-one in the room was convinced, and they all looked closely at Harry, as if they had never seen him before. Harry shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, and turned back to the memories.
"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address – how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"
"Merlin, did this woman have a witch for a sister or not?"
"You're forgetting she doesn't like magic."
"But, what should we do Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want…"
"No. No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer…yes, that's best…we won't do anything…"
"But…"
"I'm not having one in the house Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"
All the eyes in the room – with the exception of Harry, Snape and Dumbledore – narrowed at this. Dumbledore simply looked concerned and Harry uncomfortable, wondering why he agreed to this in the first place, and then realising he hadn't. Snape was looking at Harry with a curious expression on his face, although there was still a sneer in his eyes.
That evening, when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.
"Where's my letter?" demanded Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"
Seeing the size of the cupboard, everyone's face paled except Snape, whose face probably couldn't get any paler anyway. Harry paled at the thought of his friends and teachers seeing the hellhole of his muggle life; he had sworn never to tell anyone about it, in a bid to forget the life he would never have to return to.
"No-one, it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."
"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily. "It had my cupboard on it."
The teenagers sniggered at how that sentence sounded, before realising the severity, and quietening again to look worriedly at Harry.
"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling.
Ron's face paled at this, and he whimpered in disgust, to the amusement of Harry, Hermione, Fred, George, Bill and Ginny. The adults, however, were scrutinising the cupboard that Harry and Vernon were sat in, looking pale and anxious, with the exception of Snape of course.
"Er – yes, Harry – about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking…you're really getting a bit big for it…"
Ron snorted derisively.
"…we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."
"Why?" said Harry.
"Why are you questioning it? You're moving to a bigger bedroom – not that that's hard – be happy!"
"I learnt not to expect nice things from them without a catch. Luckily, this time, they just wanted to hide me from Hogwarts…although how they think changing rooms would do that I have no idea."
Again, the adults exchanged worried looks, and even Snape had stopped pretending to be uninterested, although no-one could describe him as concerned. The one person who was worrying Harry most was Ginny; she hadn't said anything throughout the memories, and was simply looking at him as though scrutinising any hidden feelings he might have.
It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room.
Hermione looked to be on the verge of tears by this point, and kept shaking her head as though this would clear the thoughts that she was thinking…how could she have missed how badly Harry was treated?
He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken.
From downstairs, came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother: "I don't want him in there…I need that room…make him get out…"
Harry sighed and stretched on the bed. Yesterday, he'd have given anything to be up here. Today, he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.
Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. When the post arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it.
"There's another one! Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive…"
With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground…
"Now that's not a pretty sight."
"Right you are George, right you are."
…to grab the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind.
"Go Harry!"
"Go on, get the letter!"
"I don't."
"Aww, Harry, why'd you have to ruin it for us?"
"Yeah, way to go Harry."
Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to the pensieve.
After a minute of confused fighting, during which everyone got hit a lot by the Smeltings stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.
"Go to your cupboard – I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. "Dudley – go – just go."
The repaired alarm rang at six o' clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first.
"That's quite a clever idea, I'm quite impressed."
"Erm thanks Tonks…I think…"
His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall towards the front door –
"AAAARRRGH"
Harry leapt into the air – he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat – something alive!
Lights clicked on upstairs, and, to his horror, Harry realised that the big squashy something had been his uncle's face.
The teenagers, Bill, Charlie, Tonks and Sirius cheered.
He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make him a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably into the kitchen, and by the time he got back, the post had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap.
The same people booed and hissed.
Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.
"I want…" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes.
Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed home and nailed up the letter box.
"Yeah, like that'll stop them," Ron exclaimed.
"I must admit Mr. Potter; I think you win the record for the amount of letters sent out."
Harry smiled, "I did wonder about that. I also wondered how you always knew where to send the letters?"
Before Professor McGonagall could answer, Hermione interrupted.
"Hogwarts has a quill that's passed down to every Deputy Headmistress or Headmaster, as it's their job to send letters to the students. This quill can find the location of anybody in the world, by the means of the 'Invenio' spell. I read it in…"
"Hogwarts - A History," chorused Harry and Ron, rolling their eyes.
On Friday, no fewer than 12 letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn't get through the letter box, they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides and even a few forced through the small window in the downstairs toilet.
On Saturday, things began to get out of hand; 24 letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window.
"What's a milkman?"
"Honestly Ron, you should have taken Muggle Studies. It's a Muggle job, in which a man or woman delivers dairy products to peoples' houses."
"Oh…sounds like fun."
Harry snorted; Fred and George were still cackling at Uncle Vernon trying to figure out how the letters had gotten inside the eggs, and even Professor McGonagall was trying to hide a smile.
On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.
"No post on Sundays," he reminded them happily as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today…"
Hermione looked rather nervous at this odd behaviour – "He really doesn't want you to come to Hogwarts does he?"
Harry rolled his eyes, "He thinks I'll put his precious son and perfect life in danger. Think about it; the only thing he's heard about magic is from Aunt Petunia, and all she'll have told him is how it deformed her sister, and then got her killed."
Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke, and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one –
"Out! OUT!"
Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall.
"Ouch that's got to hurt."
Harry nodded and rubbed his ribs in remembrance.
Sirius and Remus' eyes narrowed even further.
When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and the floor.
"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his moustache at the same time.
"Merlin that makes him look uglier than he already is, and I didn't think that was possible," exclaimed Ron.
"Makes him look less like a walrus though," snorted Tonks, and Fred and George laughed in agreement.
"I want you all back here in 5 minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"
"I wouldn't want to argue with him when he's looking like that anyway," muttered Hermione, alarmed. "He looks dangerous."
Ten minutes later, they were in the car, speeding towards the motorway. They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare to ask where they were going. They didn't stop to eat or drink all day and by nightfall Dudley was howling; he'd never had such a bad day in his life.
Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next morning…
"Mmm, yummy," muttered Sirius. He was now watching the memories more intently than ever before; he had a feeling that there was something more sinister to this vile man that reached the eye. Something that Harry refused to tell them about.
They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.
"Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."
She held up a letter so that they could read the green ink address;
Mr. H. Potter
Room 17
Railview Hotel
Cokeworth
"147 actually," scowled Professor McGonagall, although she was smiling slightly. "We had to use all of the school owls."
"Daddy's gone mad hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully later that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car and disappeared.
"Your Daddy went mad a long time ago, mate," muttered Ron, scowling darkly at Harry's fat cousin.
"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television."
Monday. This reminded Harry of something. Tomorrow, Tuesday, was his eleventh birthday. "Not that they're ever actually fun," he muttered to himself. "Last year, I only got a coat hanger and a pair of socks."
Sirius scowled even more darkly at this, and his knuckles had turned white from gripping the edges of his chair so tightly.
Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package, and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.
"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"
Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out to sea.
"Blimey, he really has gone mad hasn't he?" said George, looking slightly in awe of Harry's insane uncle.
Harry laughed. "Yeah; unfortunately he didn't stay like that, although I think it may have scarred him for life."
"Storm forecast for tonight," said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat."
A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowing boat bobbing in the iron-grey water below them.
"I wouldn't fancy going in that," shivered Hermione.
After what seemed like hours, they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon led the way to the broken-down house. The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.
As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few mouldy blankets in the second room, and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor that he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.
"That's awful!" exclaimed Hermione, looking, wide-eyed, at Harry, who only shrugged.
"Come on Hermione, you know what the Dursleys are like…"
"Yes, but actually seeing it…I mean, you don't realise…"
The adults were all looking sombre, wondering how they could have missed the signs of neglect; Dumbledore suddenly looked all his years, the lines on his face seeming deeper than ever as they creased in worry and regret.
The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep.
"No wonder," muttered Remus, and Bill and Charlie nodded in agreement.
He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. The lighted dial of Dudley's wristwatch told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes time. Five minutes to go, Harry heard something creak outside. One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds…twenty…ten – nine – eight – seven – six – five – four – three – two – one –
BOOM
Everyone in the room, apart from Harry and Dumbledore, jumped. Harry was smiling slightly, wanting the memories to continue, as he knew what was coming next and was looking forward to it.
Someone was knocking to come in.
BOOM. They knocked again and Dudley jerked awake. There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands.
"What's that?"
"A gun, Ronald."
"A what?"
"Honestly, you should read more. It's something muggles use to kill each other; it's illegal in the UK I might add, I wonder where he got it?"
"I chose not to ask," muttered Harry.
"How does it work?"
"You put a bit of metal inside it, pull a trigger which sets fire to some powder, meaning that the metal shoots out at about a million miles an hour and blows your brains out."
"Ouch."
Harry laughed at Ron's disgusted face.
"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you – I'm armed."
There was a pause. Then –
SMASH!
The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and, with a deafening crash, landed flat on the floor.
A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.
The room erupted into cheers; only Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore remained silent, and even McGonagall and Dumbledore were smiling.
"Go Hagrid!" yelled the twins, whilst Harry laughed at his friends' glee.
The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door and fitted it easily back into its frame. He turned to look at them all.
"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…"
He strode over to where Dudley was sat frozen with fear.
"Budge up, yeh great lump."
Ron laughed. "I bet he's never been insulted before in his life."
Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother…
"Coward."
…who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.
"Even bigger coward. Her sister was a witch for Merlin's sake!"
"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.
Harry looked up into the wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.
"Last time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got your mum's eyes."
"That was the first time anyone ever said that to me," laughed Harry.
"Now it's what, 400 times?"
"And the rest."
"He was there when you were left at your Aunt and Uncle's you know?"
Harry's eyes widened. "Really?"
Professor McGonagall smiled – a rare occurrence – and nodded. "Professor Dumbledore, Hagrid and I were there."
Harry raised his eyebrows, digesting that new information.
Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.
"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"
Charlie laughed. "Like that'll stop Hagrid."
"Ah, shut up Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant. He reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made out of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room."
Hermione cheered, and everyone turned to look at her in surprise. She blushed and said, "I don't like guns."
"Me neither," agreed Harry.
"Anyway – Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys. "A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat for yeh here – I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste alright."
From an inside pocket of his black overcoat, he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.
"Why're your hands shaking Harry?" asked Bill, looking puzzled.
"That was my first birthday cake – first present actually," said Harry matter-of-factly. "I wasn't sure what to do, 'cos I didn't know who the hell Hagrid was at the time."
"Oh," Bill replied weakly, exchanging worried glances with his brothers.
"Who are you?"
The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts – yeh'll know all about Hogwarts o' course."
"Er – no," said Harry.
Hagrid looked shocked.
"Sorry," said Harry quickly.
Professor McGonagall looked scandalised, and Remus looked furious. Harry was slightly scared at seeing his usually calm professor so riled up.
"They didn't tell you about Hogwarts," said Remus, in a forced-calm voice.
"No," answered Harry, unable to see what exactly was so wrong about this. "I mean, I was annoyed at the time, but I know now, obviously, so I don't know what the big deal is."
"You spent more than half your life not knowing anything about yourself, your parents….you were abused and neglected…and you 'don't know what the big deal is?'"
Sirius looked too angry to speak, but looked as though he fervently agreed with Remus.
"I'm going to kill those muggles when I get the chance," he muttered, settling back down into his chair; from the looks on the faces of everyone else in the room, they would gladly help him.
Harry was bewildered; he'd assumed people knew what had happened at the Dursleys, but apparently not.
"Sorry?!" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters, but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know about Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where your parents learnt it all?"
"All what?" asked Harry.
"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"
He had leapt to his feet. (and Sirius looked about to do the same) In his anger, he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.
"Do yer mean to tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy – this boy! – knows nothin' abou' – about ANYTHING?"
"Hagrid's a bit scary when he's angry," muttered Hermione. Ron and Harry nodded in agreement, but Harry looked amused.
"My first impression of the wizarding world wasn't brilliant, but anything was better than the Dursleys," he laughed, ignoring the concerned expressions on his friends' faces.
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 maths and stuff."
The twins and Ron snorted, and Ron said "you can be a bit thick sometimes mate."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I was eleven, ok? Besides, there was a giant telling me that I didn't know anything, and kept talking about things I didn't understand. I think I had the right to be a bit thick at that point."
But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."
"Okay, Hagrid's being a bit thick at this point. You'd think he'd have surmised by now that you didn't know you were a wizard."
"What world?"
Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.
"DURSLEY!" he boomed.
Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like 'Mimblewimble.'
Harry laughed. "I think that's the only time he's ever been put in his place."
Hagrid stared wildly at Harry. "But yeh must know about yer mum and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."
"I thought we just figured out that Harry didn't know anything about the wizarding world," said Tonks, rolling his eyes.
"I don't think he could quite believe it, to be honest," shrugged Harry. "I know I wouldn't have, had I been him."
"What? My – my mum and dad weren't famous, were they?"
"Yeh don' know…yeh don' know…" Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.
"Aww, poor Hagrid."
"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.
Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.
"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"
Hermione snorted in disgust. "Yeah, like Hagrid's going to listen to you, you fat…"
"Hermione!"
"What?" she snapped. "He's doing my head in."
A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid gave him now; when Hagrid spoke, every syllable trembled with rage.
"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter that Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"
A sudden look of comprehension reached Harry's eyes, and he looked at his headmaster curiously.
"What was in that letter, sir?"
Dumbledore merely smiled slightly and shook his head. "You'll have to ask your aunt Harry; she still has it I believe."
Harry scowled. "I'm never going to see her again; I can't ask her."
Dumbledore didn't answer, merely turning back to the memories, leaving Harry glaring at him.
"Kept what from me?" asked Harry eagerly.
"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.
Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.
"Ah, go and boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry – yer a wizard."
The Weasleys and Sirius all cheered, and Harry looked highly amused.
There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.
"I'm a what?" gasped Harry.
"A wizard o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's about time you read yer letter."
The same people cheered again, and even Hermione joined in this time.
Once he had read his letter, questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes, he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"
The entire room stared at Harry in disbelief.
"You've just found out a wizard, and that's the first thing you ask?!"
Harry blushed and muttered, "I was a bit overwhelmed, alright, I wasn't sure what to believe."
"Yeah, but still…"
Shaking their heads, Harry's friends turned back to see Hagrid sending a letter off to Dumbledore.
"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen faced, moved into the firelight.
"He's not going," he said.
Hagrid grunted. "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.
"A what?" asked Harry, interested.
"A Muggle," said Hagrid. "It's what we call non-magic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."
"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to all that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"
"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a – a wizard?"
"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that, and disappeared off to that – that school – and came home every holidays with her pockets full of frogspawn and turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was – a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family! Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as – abnormal – and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"
Sirius and Remus had both gone very white, and looked as though they were trying to restrain themselves from marching from the room. McGonagall looked furious, and was glaring openly at Dumbledore, who looked very grave. The biggest surprise was Snape, who actually looked surprised at this information.
"I knew she was jealous," murmured Remus camly, furiously, "but this…this…" He seemed unable to finish his sentence, so everyone turned to see how eleven year old Harry was taking this news.
Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice, he said "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"
"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back into their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"
"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.
The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.
"I never expected this," he said in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me their might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don't know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh – but someone's gotta – yeh can't go off to Hogwarts not knowin'."
He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys
"Well it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh – mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry parts of it…"
He sat down and stared into the fire for a few seconds and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with – with a person called – but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows…"
"Who?"
"Well - I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."
"Why not?"
"Gulpin' gargoyles Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went…bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…"
Hagrid gulped but no words came out.
"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.
"Nah – can't spell it. Alright – Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this – this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em too – some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power alright. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange witches or wizards…Terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him – an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then anyway.
Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head Boy an' Girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before…probably knew they were too close to Dumbledore ter want anything ter do with the Dark Side.
Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em…maybe he jus' wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living on Hallowe'en ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came to yer house an' – an'…"
The room was silent, waiting for Hagrid to continue. Ron and Hermione kept sneaking glances at Harry, who was sitting, stock still, staring at the pensieve, although his eyes were unfocused as though he wasn't really seeing it. Remus and Sirius were frozen in their chairs, their eyes fixed on Hagrid and the eleven-year-old Harry. McGonagall, surprisingly, was dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Tonks, Bill and Charlie all looked sombre, as they watched Hagrid blow his nose with a very dirty, spotted handkerchief.
"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad – knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find – anyway…
You-Know-Who killed them. An' then – an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing – he tried to kill you too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it I suppose, or maybe he jus' liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how yeh got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh – took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even – but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous Harry. No one ever lived after he tried ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age – an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."
They watched as Hagrid watched the younger Harry sadly, as he absent-mindedly touched his scar, obviously remembering something.
"What were you thinking?" asked Remus softly.
Harry paused for a moment, and then answered.
"I remembered the night they died, for the first time. I couldn't remember much – just some green light, and Voldemort laughing, although I didn't know it was him then…"
Tears formed in Hermione's eyes and she put her hand on his shoulder.
"Why didn't you ever tell us?"
Harry shrugged. "It didn't seem important. When I came to Hogwarts, I'd known for a few weeks, so I didn't really feel the need to go spreading it around that I could remember the night my parents died."
Hermione sighed, and exchanged concerned glances with Ron, but didn't say anything, something which Harry was very thankful for.
"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yer to this lot…"
"How come you didn't know that Hagrid was there, Harry? He just told you then!"
"I wasn't really listening, to be honest. I was a bit preoccupied."
"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there.
"Now you listen here boy," he snarled. "I accept that there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured…
Sirius' knuckles cracked, and Remus had to physically restrain him from storming out of the room.
…and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion…
This time, it was Fred, George, Harry and Ron who were restraining the two remaining Marauders from killing Harry's relatives.
…asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types – just what I always expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end."
But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you Dursley – I'm warning you – one more word…"
Uncle Vernon's courage failed again, and he fell silent.
"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa.
Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.
"But what happened to Vol – sorry, I mean, You-Know-Who?"
"Good question Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry see….he was gettin' more an' more powerful – why'd he go?
Some say he died. Codswallop in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was coming' back. Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere, but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause something about you finished him Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on – I dunno what it was, no one does – but somethin' about you stumped him, alright."
"Hagrid," said Harry quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."
To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.
"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"
Both the younger Harry and the present Harry smiled slightly, causing the occupants of the room to look at him curiously.
"What, what did you do?"
"Nothing special, I just got one over on Dudley…still got shouted at for it though, but it was worth it."
Before anyone had time to comment, Hagrid continued.
"See?" beamed Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard – you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."
But Uncle Vernon wasn't giving in without a fight.
"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish – spell books and wands and…"
"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His names been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort for a change, an' he'll be under the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled…"
"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.
But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head. "NEVER…" he thundered, "…INSULT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IN FRONT OF ME!"
He brought the umbrella down through the air to point at Dudley – there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal and next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot, his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.
Everyone in the room, apart from Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore was cheering and laughing. Dumbledore looked like he was hiding a smile, and McGonagall had buried her head wearily in her hands, although they could tell that she was quite impressed.
Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.
"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."
He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows.
"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm - er – not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yer an' get yer letters to yeh – one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job…"
"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.
"Oh, well – I was at Hogwarts meself but I – er – got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."
"Why were you expelled?"
"Its getting' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."
He took off his thick, black coat and threw it to Harry.
"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."
The scene swirled again, and fizzled out, leaving everyone staring at Harry in shock.
"Why…why didn't you tell us…what it was like…how you found out…"
Harry shrugged, looking bemused. "I just assumed you already knew, to be honest. I mean, I already told you I didn't like going back there."
"Well yeah, but, I mean…"
Sirius, meanwhile, was glaring at Dumbledore, who was waiting patiently for Harry's godfather to say something. Eventually, he said, "You knew, didn't you?"
"Knew what?"
"That Harry…that Harry didn't know what he was…who he was even…until Hagrid told him. You knew that night you left him there, that that was what would happen. You knew that he'd be abused and neglected; yet you still left him there."
"I beg to differ. I had suspicions that they would not inform Harry of the entire events, but I did assume that Petunia would give Harry the letter that I had written him. And I did not know about the abuse or the neglection that he suffered…" he turned to look at Harry. "…and for that, Harry, I am truly sorry."
Harry nodded and smiled at him, but his friends didn't look so forgiving. Sighing, Harry prepared himself for a long night of answering questions.