In the Cupboard
In the Cupboard
By: HarryDude85
When Harry trusted his instincts and opened his first Hogwarts letter away from prying eyes, the difference this one simple act has on the future is astounding.
I don't own any of these characters.
"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.
"Make Harry get it."
"Get the mail, Harry."
"Make Dudley get it."
"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."
Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing 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 got 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 envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.
Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, and eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.
"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.
Harry made his way back to the kitchen, still mindlessly staring at his letter (His letter! Probably the only thing aside from his glasses that were ever made or given for him alone), when a horrible thought entered his mind. He has lived with the Dursleys for ten years, and this was the first letter to ever, ever, come for him. Were the Dursley's stupid enough to not notice that? The bitter part of his mind said yes, but the realistic part told himself no.
He could just picture what would happen joining his family with a letter for himself. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia might not notice, so practiced in their flawless routine of ignoring every thing Harry did, unless it benefited them, but he could just picture Dudley shouting "Dad! Dad! Harry's got a letter!" The letter would be ripped from his grasp before Harry could even blink, Uncle Vernon would sneer something foul like "Who'd be writing to you?" Which would be a fair point, but no matter what the letter said, unless it involved some one coming to take me away forever, an event that both parties involved would immensely enjoy, Harry would never know for himself. And Harry wasn't going to let that happen.
Realizing that he had been standing in the hallway far too long, Harry quickly opened his cupboard door and, taking a last good look at the envelope, placed it on his cot, closed the door and re-entered the kitchen with the rest of the mail.
"What took you so bloody long, boy?" barked Uncle Vernon. Harry plopped the bill and postcard in front of his uncle, and went to sit down opposite him, trying to keep his face blank of anxiousness and curiosity about the letter now lying on his cot.
He ate his pitiful breakfast of one piece of bacon, toast, and a burnt pancake, barely hearing Uncle Vernon explain about his sister falling ill from a funny whelk. He kept picturing what could be in the letter. Perhaps it was a doctor telling him his parent's weren't dead, but very ill for the past ten years, but now their better and he can live with them now. Well, that could be possible, but why would Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon tell them they were dead? They would at last be rid of the boy they were holding onto, and he would be rid of them. Or maybe it was one of those random million dollar contests and he was the winner. How that was possible, seeing he never entered himself in any contest, Harry didn't know, but thinking up these absurd ideas was better use of his time than talking with his family.
He had just finished eating and was about to excuse himself from the table to go to his cupboard, when he felt a hard slap on the back of his head.
"Ow!" he cried out.
"You will listen to me when I talk to you," the sharp, high pitched voice of his aunt harped down on him.
"Sorry," Harry said, rubbing his head. He looked up and saw his aunt's tall face angrier than he had in a while. She must have been trying to say something to him, but he was to busy daydreaming to hear her.
"No your not," snarled Aunt Petunia, "But you will be if you don't get to work."
"Work?" Harry asked confused. He would have added 'What work' but didn't think his aunt would have taken it to well.
"Yes, work, you ungrateful little brat. You are to wash our cars, mow the lawn, and vacuum the house top to bottom. And if you mess up any of that, you will have no meals for a week."
Normally, Harry would have said nothing but "Okay" and do what he was told, but today, Harry wanted nothing more than to get to his cupboard and read his letter. He was about to protest when he caught the sight of Uncle Vernon. His face was going red and the vain in his neck began to throb. It was as if he knew that Harry was about to talk back, however mildly it would have been, and if there was one thing Uncle Vernon hated more than his nephew's imagination, it was his nephew standing up for himself.
Sighing in defeat, Harry set out front to begin five hours of back breaking labor, the kind he has been used to since he was seven. The one good thing that Harry has taken from the years of physical labor would that he did this kind of work so often and it usually involved stretching muscles that otherwise never would have been used. As such, he was in rather good shape, and had a rather firm physique. He knew he was stronger than Dudley, and could easily beat him in any of the fights that Dudley seeks out every day at school, but knows that if he fought back that their would be hell to pay when he got home. So he kept his well muscled body to himself. But even if it meant he would be a scrawny little weakling, he would have preferred never having to do any of this labor that was only put on him because the rest of his family was too lazy and selfish to do anything that didn't involve pleasing Dudley and tormenting Harry.
The only other consolation today, how ever miniscule, in doing the work was the knowledge that his letter would still be waiting for him when he finished. The Dursley's avoided his cupboard at all times, except for when Aunt Petunia woke him up every morning and when Dudley would lock him in after beating him up. All of the item's one usually kept in cupboards, brooms and buckets and such, were moved to the upstairs closet after Harry began sleeping there when he was three, so their would be no need to go in their if their was a spill.
Unfortunately for Harry, it happened to be a scorching day outside, with the thermometer reading 102. The only time Harry stopped for water was after he finished washing the family's two cars and Aunt Petunia made sure it was a short one, for he was in and back out the door in less than a minute.
Harry entertained himself through out the day thinking up different things that could be inside his letter. Every time he would come up with a new idea, they would be even more crazy and impossible. His last idea when he finished vacuuming the house was that the letter was from some unknown planet beyond Pluto where he was actually from, and they were sending him a letter announcing their arrival, which would commence with chasing Dudley around with a giant board with a nail in it. (He saw that on a Simpson's episode on the rare occasion that he was left in the house when the Dursley's went out, and the idea greatly appealed to him) Even without the Dudley chasing, every scenario sounded perfect to him because every one of them involved the same theme, what Harry longed for more than anything: to leave the Dursley's forever and join the people he was meant to be with, be it his parent's, some long lost twin brother, or some giant who would take him to live in a world of wizards and/or pirates.
Finally, after he took a shower and ate his usual petite supper, Harry found himself in front of his cupboard.
A part of him was afraid to open the door, afraid that the letter would be gone, and he didn't know which would be worse: the idea that Dudley had stolen it, given it to his parents and now Harry would never see it; or the thought that the letter never existed and it was all just one big dream.
Pushing all those thoughts down, Harry reached his hand out, opened the door, looked inside and –
Harry released a giant sigh of relief that he didn't know he was holding. It was still their, lying on his cot, the light of the hallway ending at the length of the letter, leaving everything else in the dark, as if trying to tell Harry what he already knew, that this letter was the most important thing in the world to him and that he needed to know what was inside it. Even if it turned out to be nothing more than a letter from his new school, Stonewall High, welcoming him, it mean that some one wanted to talk to him, and that was more than he could ever ask for.
Climbing inside the cupboard, Harry closed the door and turned on the dangling light overhead.
He picked up his letter. It was still as thick and heavy as it was this morning, and than thought made him elated, for it means that this is all real. He through out the possibility that the letter was from Stonewall, for no school would have known that Harry lived in the cupboard under the stairs the way the envelope said.
He turned the envelope over to once again see the wax stamp in the form of a coat of arms. For the first time that day, Harry wondered what the 'H' stood for and what the snake, lion, eagle, and badger had to do with it. In all his excitement of the letter that went through his mind today, not once did he think of the coat of arms at all.
Harry didn't linger on that thought for to long, the eagerness to solve this mystery once and for all was to strong. Breaking the wax, Harry opened the envelope. He pulled out the letter.
Two things came to Harry's attention at once: One, that the letter was written on the same parchment as the envelope; two, that there were three sheets. Finally, at long last, he opened his letter and read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
There was silence.
Even the sounds of Dudley watching T.V. seemed to have vaporized and gone to some place where they wouldn't disturb Harry as he tried to process what he had just read.
'This is some kind of joke,' Harry told himself. 'Some sick joke by the Dursley's to get my hopes up so they can point and laugh at me.' Yet even as he told himself this, he knew that the only kind of joke the Dursley's liked involved Dudley shouting BOO at the top of the staircase before punching Harry in the face. And the kind of imagination that it would take to come up with obviously fake words such as 'Hogwarts', 'McGonagall', 'Dumbledore', and 'Mugwump' was far beyond the capacity of his aunt, uncle, and cousin. And nobody outside his family would go to this much effort to just make him look stupid for about five seconds.
But if it wasn't a joke, if nobody was trying to be mean or cruel than did that mean… Could it possibly…
"No." He firmly told himself. "It's not real." He didn't want to tell himself this, for the letter was actually everything he had hoped for. While it didn't give him his parents, it did give him a life with out the Dursley's, a life with people of his own kind who would accept him, where he would make the impossible happen and where he could be happy and not sleep under the stairs and eat what he wanted and have friends, honest to god friends, who would like nothing more than to be with him and make things fly, make things change sizes and color and make things vanish into thin air and that's why it couldn't be real because it is everything Harry wanted and –
'Wait.' Harry stopped that train of thought when he came to the realization of what he just thought. 'Did I just – Was the sweater that shrunk, and the wig that turned blue and even the snake that got lose… Could it have been possible that… I did all that?'
When Aunt Petunia tried to force that revolting sweater on him, Harry wanted nothing more than to destroy it so he could never, ever have to wear it and it ended up shrinking to the size of a hand-puppet. When Mr. Rippling, his writing teacher, berated him for writing a paper that called Dudley the fattest, bullying git in school, about how lies were not fitting someone so young, Harry was so angry, he didn't know how Mr. Rippling's wig was all of a sudden blue. Could it have been him? And right after Dudley hit Harry at the zoo, the glass separating him fro the boa constrictor disappeared. Did Harry make it happen? And heck, before he was hit, Harry was talking to the snake, actually talking to it! How many normal people could say that!
An even better question struck Harry, a question that sent shivers up and down his spine: How many wizards could say that?
There was no more convincing needed. Harry had accepted it. "I am a wizard." Saying those words aloud, words that Harry never imagined, yet deep down inside him, always knew were true, changed him. He didn't know how it changed him or what was different, but hew knew that he was not the same person he was before he had broken the wax and read the truth.
He looked down at the letter that told him what, no, who he was, Harry flipped the page to read the second one under it:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, silver fastings)
Please note that all the pupils' clothes should carry name tags
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells(Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Force: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOKSTICKS.
"This is amazing," Harry muttered, a smile, the biggest Harry could ever remember wearing, that was growing bigger as he re-read the list, plastered on his face. "I get to have spell books and cauldrons and I get to wear a cloak and wave a wand and…" But then his heart plummeted from the broomstick that he was not allowed to have, yet longed to hold. 'How will I get this stuff?'
It sounds as if he has to buy all this himself. He has no idea where to get any of this. It's not like he can go to the mall and ask where they sell magic wands. And there was the fact that if he did find places to buy wands and spell books, he has absolutely no money to buy anything. And who knows if witches accepted pounds. They might have a whole other kind of currency.
Feeling like a kid was just told that there is no such thing as Santa Clause, it was with great effort that Harry was able to pull himself back and look at the third and final sheet of parchment that came with his letter. It was the longest parchment with more written on it than the others. It read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are aware that you have been brought up by muggles, which is the word our kind uses for people who have no magical ability, such as your uncle, aunt, and cousin. As such, you may not have the knowledge or finances to get the equipment necessary for you to start at Hogwarts.
First off, in case you are unaware, you should know that your parents, Lily and James Potter, were also a witch and wizard who once went to Hogwarts. And at the time of their death, their entire vault at Gringotts, the wizard bank where all of our money is kept, became yours. It holds a quite impressive amount of wizarding money. You shall be given a more detailed explanation of how our money works when you arrive at Gringotts. And I think you should be warned before you arrive their to retrieve your rightful currency, the bank is run by goblins, and as such, you should be careful not to lie or try and deceive them. Although I have every belief that you would try no such thing, I think it is fair warning.
Next, when you arrive at Gringotts, ask the goblin standing next to the door to take you to the goblin christened Bargox. Tell him your name, and he shall give you the key to your parents, now yours, vault. He will assign you to join another goblin who will take you to your vault.
But of course the only way you will be able to access Gringotts and your vault is for you to know how to get to them. And where are they located, I am sure you're asking? Why, they are on a lovely and convenient little street known as Diagon Alley, which is where you will need to purchase your Hogwarts robes and accessories. The directions to Diagon Alley from #4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging are located at the bottom of this letter.
The entrance to Diagon Alley from the muggle side of London is through a charming pub called The Leaky Cauldron. Only witch, wizards, and squibs, those born from magical parents who unfortunately have no abilities of their own, are able to see the sign and door to the Leaky Cauldron. All muggles see is a blank wall, so trust your eyes, not your fellow people, for this one moment. When you enter The Leaky Cauldron, ask the bartender, Tom, to show you how to enter Diagon Alley. The rest should be simple.
A few more things before I leave you to contemplate in your cupboard what this all means. First, I am sure you are self conscious about your scar, about how people look at it and are rude to you cause of it. If you do not wish to enter an unknown world with this understandable insecurity, I may be able to assist you. When you finish reading, if you wish to hide you scar, simply say the words "Harry's Helper" and a small square shall appear in front of you. This square, when placed on you scar, will completely conceal it from view, even from yourself. It will blend in perfectly, as if it were your own skin, and the only person who can remove it is yourself. It can be used more than once, and is indestructible once in place on your skin. I hope this helps you.
Secondly, when September 1 arrives, you will have to be at Kings Cross Station, on Platform 9 and ¾. In order to access the platform you will have to walk through the barrier separating platforms 9 and 10. I am aware that it looks like an impassable metal barrier and to muggles it is, but to you, you will be able to pass through safe and sound. But you must board the train before it leaves at 11 A.M.
Thirdly, at the bottom of your admittance letter, Professor McGonagall truthfully stated that we await you owl. As you have no such animal at the present time, a simpler method has been arranged for you. Simply write your response on the back of the aforementioned admittance letter, place it on top of your doormat, and we shall receive it during the night.
And, lastly, Harry, I knew and taught your mother and father. After they graduated Hogwarts, we worked with them quiet closely. I had great respect for the two of them and, in fact, I named them Head Boy and Head Girl in their 7th year, the highest a student can get a Hogwarts. Their loss has been felt by all of those who loved them, and I can assure you, that list is a long one. I am sure that they are proud of you and that they, along with myself, cannot wait to see the amazing wizard and, more importantly, the extraordinary man you will become. If ever you feel you need to talk to someone at Hogwarts, yet are unsure who to confide in, or if you ever need assistance, my door is always open to you. Just look for the stone gargoyle on the second floor. The password in 'Sugar Quill'.
Hope your time at Hogwarts is splendid,
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore,
Headmaster
If Harry thought nothing could surprise him after reading the first letter, he had just been proven wrong: an entire vault full of money that was for him and him alone; a bank run by goblins; a street full of wizard shops; an invisible pub; a magic barrier that led to a magic train; disappearing parchment. But most extraordinary of all, his parents were magic as well!
In the ten years he has lived with the Dursley's, the only thing he knew about his parents was that they were killed in a car crash. And now, in one message, he knows more than he has his whole life: they were magic and went to Hogwarts; they were Head Boy and Girl and had a lot of friends; they graduated and worked with Professor Dumbledore.
And that was another thing that surprised him. Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster who has many, many other students wrote to him, gave him advice and told him about his parents, told him to stop by whenever he needed help. Harry never even heard of the man a few minutes ago, but already he feels closer to the headmaster than he ever had to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.
'Speaking of whom,' Harry thought, 'I think it's time the three of us have a little talk.' Being sure to hide the envelope, school list, and Dumbledore's letter under a lose floor board, reminding himself that he needs to write a response of "Yes" on the back of the letter, Harry pocketed the school letter, opened the door and left his cupboard almost a completely different person then when he entered.
The entire first italicized section is from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, American Edition Pg. 33-34
The first part of the Hogwarts letter is from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, American Edition Pg. 51
The second part of the Hogwarts letter is from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, American Edition Pg. 66-67