(Ignorance is) Bliss

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Minerva McGonagall dressed in her most muggle-acceptable clothing when she went to invite muggleborns or talk to their families. It happened to be a dress fit more to the late 19th century than the late 20th, but it worked just fine. People marked her off as an eccentric, especially in London. Arriving out of a Ministry-provided automobile, because muggle seemed to travel around in them very often these days and it helped plenty to discuss things with muggles if you came out of one. Luckily, it had a self-driving charm, because she had no idea how to handle such a machine. She was a Transfiguration professor, not a muggle expert!

Stepping out of the car, she realized she had a few eyes trained onto her. She ignored them, staring at the orphanage. In her right hand, she held a letter. Over the letter, where it was stamped shut with dark red wax shaped into the Hogwarts emblem, were green letters stating very simply;

Mr. H. Potter
Room 27
London Orphanage for Boys
London, England

A few young boys were playing out in the yard, but stopped as she stepped past the open, wrought iron gate. Her skirts dusted just a nail's width over the cement path, where chalk colored in vulgar drawings or crude names were written. She stepped on a pink piece of chalk. Her shoes, charmed to help her keep steady, crushed it into fine dust. It's Cleanly Charm banished what stuck to the bottom. She left no trail. The children stared. Minerva scanned them out of the corner of her eyes, wondering if any of them was the boy she was searching for.

She came to the front door and knocked three times.

About half-minute passed before it opened, revealing a young woman with grey hair and bagged eyes. "Who're you?" She questioned.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall, from Hogwarts School for Young Boys and Girls." Minerva introduced herself. "I am here to invite Harry James Potter to my school."

"Bit fancy for him, don't you think?" The woman said.

"His parents attended the school. They established an account to ensure his tuition to be paid full upon the time he was ready to enter." Minerva stated. "May I see him?"

"'course." The woman nodded, pulling the door open wide. "Name's Daisy Bates. I run this place. The other two here are with the babies, two of them, both have chicken pox. Trying to keep a pandemic from occurring. Ever have to deal with that there at your school?"

"Certainly." Minerva said. She recalled the Dragon Pox burst when she, herself, attended Hogwarts as a third year Gryffindor. "You said the school might be too fancy for Harry. Why do you say that?"

"Boy's a bit daft." Daisy Bates said without shame or hesitance. "Rarely ever talks, barely eats. He does fine in school so we never do much, though. He mostly stays in his room."

"When did he arrive here?" Minerva asked.

"A few years ago, he was seven." Bates said. "Sad, how he came. Aunt and Uncle just dumped him off here. They were all in really nice clothes, in a real nice car, but Harry was in rags. So quiet, too. Made my heart break. Still does. I'm guessing they just didn't want to put up with a boy that hurt their image. Happened before. The really disabled ones are sent to a special place, though. They need the extra care, and time, something we don't really have here. But Harry's smart enough to get along, so he stays. Wish he could get the help he needs, though. Therapy or some sort."

Perhaps, Minerva thought, the Killing Curse did have its effects? Her heart ached. The past decade, the wizarding world have celebrated Harry Potter and has anxiously awaited his return. This whole time, he was suffering. A family who seemed to have mistreated him, then abandoned him. Who knows what he's been told of his parents? For all he knows, he could see himself as unlovable boy with no place in the world. Even if he was daft, he was still a special boy. He was the reason the wizarding world was free from the Dark Lord's tyranny today.

Daisy Bates led Minerva up a short stairway into a cramped hallway. She came to a room, where brass letters were screwed on. "Room 27, Harry Potter." She said. "You need me to stay?" She asked.

Minerva shook her head.

"Alright." Daisy Bates nodded. She knocked on the door only one door before it swung open.

Minerva looked down.

A tiny, scrawny boy who looked more like a tall toddler than a soon-to-be eleven year old boy. Wide, brilliantly green eyes shone behind cheap, black-rim glasses. He had James Potter's high cheekbones, partially hidden by the baby-fat that clung to him, and the man's messy black hair. He had Lily Evans' (Lily Potter's) button nose and eyes, though his were a tad more clearly green, and he had her skin; flawless and fair. He had James Potter's full, pout-shaped lips and long eyelashes, too. He looked like an angel, or an elf out of muggle tales. Minerva felt her heart constrict. Harry looked so much like James, but what stuck out the most were his eyes, Lily's eyes.

"Harry, this is Minerva McGonagall. She's from a school your parents went to." Bates said.

Harry stared.

"I'll take it from here, thank you." Minerva told the muggle woman.

She nodded and left.

"May I come in?" Minerva asked the boy.

Harry stepped back, retreating to his bed. He sat down quietly. His movement couldn't be described as graceful or flawless, but it was quiet and careful, like the tiniest noise would open up a hole that'd swallow him.

Minerva closed the door behind her. She pulled a chair out from a small desk and sat down. "My name is Minerva McGonagall. I teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She stated.

"Magic." Harry spoke.

"Yes, magic. Your parents were magical. Your mother was a witch and your father a wizard, brilliant apart and amazing together." Minerva stated. "Do you remember anything about them? Did your Aunt and Uncle tell you anything of them?"

"Petunia and Vernon told me my father was a drunk and my mother was a slag. They got into an accident when I was a baby and they died. That's how I got my scar." Harry stated.

Minerva bristled. "Your father was not a drunk! And your mother was not a slag!" She barely restrained herself from hissing. "They were killing by the Dark Lord. He tried to kill you too, that's how you got your scar."

"How do I know you're not lying? Miss Daisy's always talking about sending me to some hospital." Harry said.

Minerva pulled out her hand. She pointed at his pillow and flicked her wand. The pillow morphed into something larger, newer-looking, and plumper. It turned dark red with yellow threaded into the corners.

Harry stared, wide-eyed. "Can I do things like that?" He asked.

"One day, if you work hard, you will." Minerva promised. "What I did is called Transfiguration."

"You teach it?" Harry asked.

She nodded.

"I can do things, too." Harry said. "Not like that, but things."

"What sort of things?" Minerva asked.

"Once, when I was really mad, I made someone's bed light on fire. And I can talk to snakes! No one's ever believed me though so I stopped, but I can." Harry said. "I made a teacher's wig turn blue before, too, and I teleported once!"

"You can talk to snakes?" Minerva was shocked. Parseltongue? Only descendants of Slytherin could speak Parseltongue, all Parselmouths could trace their lineage back to the man. As far as she knew, however, James and Lily had no connection to Salazar Slytherin.

"They talk back to me, too." Harry said. "I met one named Marvolo but he wasn't around very long. He had to leave, but he promised to come back for me one day."

Minerva felt unsteady. "Harry, you know something." She said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Talking to snakes, it's called Parseltongue. It isn't well accepted in our world, the magical world." Minerva said. "The most notorious wizards have had the ability. Including the man who killed your parents, the Dark Lord."

Harry frowned. "Oh." He said. "What's the man's name?"

Minerva hesitated. "We call him You-Know-Who." She said. "No one likes saying his name."

"Oh." Harry repeated. "And I can't talk to snakes anymore?"

"You can, but you should be careful." Minerva said. "People could take wrong to it."

Harry nodded.

"In our world, you're famous." Minerva added. "Because of that night. After he killed your parents, he tried to kill you too, but his curse rebounded. It's unheard of before you, and no one has since. Your scar is from that curse."

Harry rubbed the lightning bolt-shaped mark on his forehead.

Minerva held out his letter. "This is your acceptance letter. It has all your supplies and your ticket to the Hogwarts Express." She said.

"I don't have any money." Harry said.

"Your parents left you plenty, at the wizarding bank, Gringotts." Minerva said. "I could take you there, today, to get all your supplies. You'll get them at Diagon Alley, an all-wizarding market center."

Harry fingered the letter and nodded.

Minerva smiled. "Come with me. We can go now. It's still early in the day." She said, standing.


NOTES: I don't know if I'll continue this or not. I might if it receives some pleasant attention, but idk.