There is an overlooked fact of life that magic attracts more magic, this occurrence often applies itself in varying ways. In 382 BCE a family of wandmakers settled in Brittania during the Roman occupation. They eventually building a shop in a walled marshlands village of Londinium ruled by King Belinus the Great along the rivers Thames and Walbrook; later to be known as London. Their humble shop soon became the focus of wizarding commerce in the area, later spanning into the marketplace of Diagon Alley.
Another instance of note would be the congregation of four powerful sorcerers in the Mons Graupius region of the Scottish Highlands. Bold Gryffindor of the wild moors; Fair Ravenclaw from Glen; Sweet Hufflepuff from the valley broad and Shrewd Slytherin from fen. These wizard and witches built a place of learning; safe from the evils and prosecutions of the world. Their arcane magicks settled into the natural fey lines and compelled magical creatures of all kinds to flock to the forest bordering Loch Dubh.
Where there is magic, more is soon to follow.. It was summer in 1988, and one Harry Potter, resident of Little Whinging, Surrey; had just finished with Year 3 of primary school. He was tending the garden; a generally unpleasant chore when the hot sun is beating down on you from its zenith. Unfortunately for the seven year old, he had little choice in the matter. He wasn't allowed in the house during daylight. Most of the time, this suited him fine as it kept him away from his family, the Dursleys. The Dursley's consisted of his giraffe-horse hybrid of an aunt, a walrus of an uncle, and a piglet of a cousin; Petunia, Vernon and Dudley respectively. All in all, a twisted menagerie both irksome and cantankerous. Harry was nothing like them, which he was glad for.
Harry Potter, almost eight years old, was a muted and unassuming boy. He had eyes the color of pickled-toads and hair of chalkboard black. Over his brief few years peculiar things happened to him that no-one could explain and usually got him in trouble. Last year on Dudley's birthday, Harry had wanted a cupcake and it floated towards him, but Petunia saw and after twisting his ear and hissing her vile words he was locked his cupboard for a week.
Things like that happened to him in his garden, but he dare not share these secrets with his family. Their utter abhorrence for anything not normal was burned into his memory. Occasionally Harry happened upon a common garter snake while planting flowers. It had slithered from underneath the shed, muttering to itself about crickets and mice. Harry had tried to say hello and strike up a conversation, but after the snakes initial surprise that a human was talking to it, it grew bored and irritated about being kept from its hunt and went on its way. Harry had met other snakes of course, but they all tended to be grumpy and singular in their thoughts.
Currently it was popular to have backyard gardens on Privet Drive, so Harry was planting tomatoes and cucumbers. You might think this an odd task for a seven year old, but since he was 5 his aunt had put him to work, first in the house then in the yard. Failure or mistakes were not tolerated, and Harry was a quick study. His garden was growing strong by July, shooting up as if by magic. During the summer, all Harry had were his plants and he cared for them greatly.
It was nearing his birthday when he noticed that something was eating his vegetables. Distressed at what Petunia might do, lest she think he was eating them, he laid simple traps of strings and sticks to catch whatever was doing it. What he eventually snared confused and frightened him; a living potato creature. The thing looked at Harry, glaring with its beady eyes, make a rude gesture that Dudley got in trouble for at school. Suddenly a giant furry thing pounced on the potato monster.
An excerpt from magizoologist Udgen Millstone's creature compendium, "Stuff it under a Glass Bell" has this to say on Jarveys.
"Nasty foul-tempered loathsome creatures that would sooner scratch your face and insult your family lineage that look twice at you. The only thing a Jarvey likes better that using harsh lexicon is eating Gnomes. It's also how I once captured one in my youth, making me blush with its inventive use of the word 'fuck'. If my father wards hadn't held up, I dare say the beasty would've exacted revenge on me, forthwith."
But Harry not knowing about Millstone, Jarveys or magic in general was much more frightened at the sight was looked like an extremely vicious ferret. Luckily for him, the possibly rapid ferret was enraptured with slowly decapitation the potato thing.
Once done, its eyes turned towards Harry, snarled in a gruff voice,
"Wha'chu lookin' at, bloody tosser!?"
It then, without leave, promptly jumped over the fence in the neighbor's yard.
Harry perturbed and exhausted, decided the sun had roasted his small brain. He drank from the house hosepipe outside and made himself scarce on Privet Drive for the day. There was a creek nearby with a giant oak that was good for shade. He made his way down Magnolia Road, which was a small road connecting it to Magnolia Crescent. There was a batty old lady who lived on this street. She had lots of funny looking cats and was a bit of a recluse. She had babysat him on occasion and always smelt of cabbage. As he passed her house he saw the blinds being moved aside.
He took a turn onto Wisteria Walk before he could see his tree. It wasn't a very big or old tree, but to him it was a beanstalk like the one from a book in the library. He was Jack climbing up it, thankfully no giants were nearby. He rested on the trunk and dosed off, forgetting quickly of the days odd happenings.
It was the day of his tenth birthday when his family dropped him off at a batty old Figgs while they went into London for day on the town, knowing full well it was his birthday. He knew by now there would be no card, no cake and no presents. He didn't know why his relative didn't love him but it still hurt. No matter how much he cleaned or how beautiful the garden was, nothing worked.
As per usual with Mrs. Figg, she was showing him photo albums of her cats while he enjoyed a glass a milk and some biscuits. His favorite cat of hers was Mr. Tibbles, who often claimed Harrys lap. There wasn't much do to as the old lady didn't have a tele. She did allow him to play in the backyard while she cooked dinner, though.
As he was slowly walking around the yard, cats in toe, he spotted some rustling in a nearby bush. Cautiously he approached, fearing that whatever it was might attack him. He moved the leaves aside and saw a small ball of pale blue light. It looked almost human, except for its long ears and wings. He carefully enfolded it in his hands as if he were capturing a firefly.
Mrs. Figg was currently at the stove humming to herself. Today she thought to surprise young Harry with a cake, she knew those horrible muggles would never give one to the boy. It was a shame that she couldn't do more for him, her being only a squib. She heard the screen door open and the sound of Harry and her adorable half-kneazles. She turned around to see Harry carefully approach her with a look of wonderment, eyes on his hands.
"What have you got there Harry?" She said jovially. Seeing him act like a child his age was heartening.
Harry looked up at her with a grin.
"I found it in the bushes. I was hoping you could tell me what it was. I've never seen anything like it!"
He opened his hands and she finally got a good look.
"A fairy…" Harry heard Mrs. Figg murmur.
"A fairy?" Harry parroted with bemusement. "Fairies aren't real, everyone knows that."
Mrs. Figg got a gleam in her eye. She went it to her room and came back shortly after. Holding an old weathered book. Flipping its pages muttering to herself, she pointed to a section and told him to read.
"Faeries (Chromategima Laetitia) are insecto-homonid magical creatures that can be found all over the world, not just in Britannia. They are known to be vain, glow in assorted phenotypical colors by bioluminescence and communicate by high-pitched buzzing. They lay clutches of up to 50 eggs on the underside of ferns and during mating seasons can be found within rings of mushrooms. There are preyed upon mostly by Augureys and Bowtruckles. Every time they molt, they shed their old wings, which are used in potions such as the Girding Potion and the Beautification Potion. They are loosely related to another insecto-homonid creature the Doxy (Venenumdente Dolor) which are used for their venom; they do not however co-mingle well."
Harry looked at Mrs. Figg then back at the moving pictures in book.
"This is an elaborate prank, it has to be" He breathed out. "There's no such thing as magic."
He heard a scoff come from the old lady.
"Tosh! Dumbledore be damned, you don't deserve to be kept in the dark. Magic has been seeping into your life since you've been here" She paused.
"You are a wizard, your father was a wizard and your mother was a witch. Their world of magic is yours by birth, and if a squib such as I has to teach it to you, then so be it."
Harry looked at her in wonderment, then furrowed his brows in confusion.
"What's a squib?" Mrs. Figg's laughter filled the house.
It was a few months since the fairy incident and Mrs. Figg had gotten him more books from a place called Flourish and Blotts. More like 'owled' for them, which was amazing because Harry had never seen owls outside of books before, let alone up close.
He got to read the 'Creatures of Cumbria and Countless Counties Curious', which was the book she originally showed him about fairies with. As well as books for muggle (the name for non-magical people) raised and muggleborn being introduced into the magical world. It was a lot to take in, but magic was simply amazing and it was a part of him. Earlier Mrs. Figg explained what a squib was and looked a bit sad when talking about a world she could only be on the peripherals of.
She even told him that when he turned eleven that he was going to go to Hogwarts. She didn't have any pictures of his dad or mum but she had given him the gift of the truth and magic; it was more than enough. Since squibs could do potions that didn't require wand magic, she had a small bedroom converted to make them. She promised to teach him when he had finished reading about the ingredients and potions themselves. She stressed that precision and preparedness was important when it came to potion making.
To throw off the Dursleys Mrs. Figg told them she needed someone to clean up around the house, yard and to feed the cats. Something she couldn't do in her older age. It gave them a reason to get him out of the house, so he spent most of his time at her house. He did do gardening and cleaning, but it was mostly for potions and cleaning out the dusty potions room.
Harry was currently reading 'A Children's Anthology of Monsters by Newton Scamander' it was pretty interesting. He wished he could get a niffler to find him treasure so he didn't have to live with the Dursley's anymore. Sighing as he closed the booked he knew that unless a miracle happened, he wouldn't be free of them until he was eleven.
He got up and put the book away on the small shelf and stretched. Mrs. Figg's house still smelt of cabbages but it was more like home then Number 4, Privet Drive. Soon though, he'll be eleven and become a wizard like he was always meant to be.