Chapter 1

Harry eagerly watched the tiny hands on the watch Dudley wore around his plump wrist which hung over the side of the sofa. It was two minutes until he turned eleven, and with every tick the clock face seemed to grow larger and larger, the sound echoing through his head. He counted down the seconds... 16, 15, 14... He didn't know why he was so excited. It wasn't like the Dursley's would even know, let alone acknowledge, that it was Harry's birthday... 9,8,7...He supposed it was more the idea of being eleven, which seemed to him to be a great deal older than ten... 3,2,1... as the hands of the clock both pointed at the number 12, the first thing Harry realised was that he didn't feel any different to how he had one minute ago. He stood up from where he had been curled on the hard wooden floorboards of the hut on the rock and stretched his limbs out, trying to feel some kind of discernable difference. After a few minutes of this, Harry realised it was fruitless, and instead started striding around the room, taking care to muffle his footsteps so as not to disturb his snoring lump of a cousin. He tried puffing his chest out, clenching his fists, even flattening his hair, but none of it was any use. It was official, Harry concluded. Being eleven was no different to being ten. Deflated, he wandered over to the tiny window that rattled against the wind and looked out. All he could see was ocean, and, if he looked up, the velvety blackness of the night sky, studded with stars that seemed to wink down at him from their elaborate constellations. Harry liked to think that they were looking out for him: that they, at least, cared that today was his birthday, and wanted him to be safe and happy. And all at once Harry was filled with a bizarre hope - something he rarely felt when in the presence of the Dursley's. He felt as if he was on the brink of something incredible, like this could be the start of something new. He even felt a smile begin to form on his face, when suddenly the door behind him trembled as if something round and hard had been thrown at it. Harry spun around, his heart hammering in his chest. Dudley's snores faltered for a moment, and he shifted in his sleep. Tentatively, Harry crept towards the door, hoping to check the lock, but before he could reach it, it gave another horrifically loud bang, and this time it sounded as though some wood had splintered. Dudley woke with a snort, his eyes blearily frowning at Harry's frozen form halfway towards the door, but Harry didn't have time to explain. For a second later, the door fell open, the hinges ripped off of the wall of the hut, and a vast figure stood in the doorway. Behind Harry, Mr Dursley came thundering down the stairs, screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs and brandishing a long barrelled, ancient gun and a torch.

"Who's there?" He shouted in his 'threatening' voice, although it trembled slightly. "I warn you, I'm armed!" The artificial beam of light settled on the figure, revealing a vast, hairy mass of a man: his face almost entirely obscured by his thick, dark mane of hair and similar beard, and two dark eyes peered out, glinting like beetles. Upon closer inspection, Harry realised that the man, or giant, or whatever he was, was dressed in the most peculiar outfit – it looked as though he was clad in basketball gear, and around his neck hung a silver whistle on a single corded chain. On his feet were a pair of white trainers which were each about the size of the boat the Dursley's and Harry had travelled to the Hut in, and he was passing a basketball between his dustbin lid hands. The giant squeezed himself through the door: Harry thought that he seemed entirely too large to exist, and that, coupled with the bizarre attire the man was wearing, led Harry to the conclusion that he was either dreaming or had gone barking mad.

"Stay back!" Mr Dursley yelped as the giant threw his ball with an incredibly accurate aim onto the sofa, picked up the door and slammed it back into place. Dudley, who had previously been frozen on his seat, took advantage of the giant's turned back and scurried up the stairs to join his mother, where she cowered behind her husband.

The giant turned around to look at the Dursley's as they crouched, terrified, at the top of the stairs.

"Don't happen to have anythin' I can make a protein shake with, do yeh?" He said, as he dusted off his hands. He strode over to the sofa and sat down heavily, the floor creaking beneath his as he did so. "It's not been an easy day, ter be honest with yeh." The giant picked up his whistle from where it hung around his neck and blew it heavily in the direction of the empty grate in the fire place. Instantly, flames began dancing merrily as though an invisible hand had simply placed them there. Harry reminded himself that this was, after all, just a dream, and strange things like this often happen in dreams.

"Those kids," the giant said to no one in particular, taking a protein powder sachet and a large sports bottle filled with water out of his red and white letterman jacket. "They're just not playin' as good as they used ter anymore, and then they get all angry with me when I tell 'em. One of 'em even threatened me today, would yer believe it. Said he wanted to do things other than basketball. Stupid lad, what is there other than basketball? Oh, don't worry about the protein shake, by the way." He added to the Dursley's, who resembled wax models right about now. "I brought me own protein powder. Yer never know when yer might need a protein boost, that's what I always say." The giant ripped open the sachet with his teeth and poured the contents into the sports bottle, before shaking the mixture up and taking a long sip.

"Sir, I DEMAND that you leave this residence at once!" Uncle Vernon seemed to have finally found his voice. "This is breaking and entering; I can have you arrested for this!"

The giant finished drinking and screwed the lid back on his bottle. "Ah, shut up, Dursley, yer givin' me a headache." He picked up his basketball from where it sat next to him and lobbed it over his shoulder. It lodged itself in Mr Dursley's mouth, which had been hanging open in protest, knocking out his front teeth. Harry couldn't suppress the laughter that bubbled in his throat, and the giant looked around at him, his expression half surprised, half warm, and got to his feet.

"An' here's Harry!" he said. "I didn't see yeh standin' over there!" Harry walked hesitantly towards him, almost confident that the giant wasn't going to hurt him, even though this was, of course, a dream.

"Last time I saw yeh, you was just a baby. You don't half look like yer old dad, you'll be a top basketball player just like he was." The giant's eyes glinted warmly. "We'll win every game we play with you on the team, jus' you wait. Hell, we migh' even win the championship!"

He clapped Harry around the shoulders in a gesture that was clearly meant to be friendly but, in actuality, caused Harry's knees to buckle. Hastily, the giant helped Harry to his feet. "Careful now, we don' want ter be breakin' yeh before yeh've even got there, do we? Now," he continued, settling back down on the sofa and gesturing for Harry to sit down too. "I've go' a little summin for yeh. It's not every day a yeh turn eleven, is it?" He produced a squashy package wrapped in shiny red wrapping paper and tied with a white ribbon from inside his jacket and handed it to Harry. Inside was a red basketball jersey with white edging and the word "HOOPWARTS" emblazoned across the chest beneath the image of a strange, unfamiliar crest. Harry's hand brushed over the soft material, his brow furrowed. He'd never been given a gift before, especially not by a complete stranger who just so happened to be three times the size of a normal human being.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly, still frowning at the jersey. "But... I don't mean to be rude, but who are you?"

To his surprise, the giant chuckled. "I didn't really introduce meself, did I? Me name's Rubeus Hagrid, Hogwarts Groundskeeper and captain of Hoopwarts Basketball Team. Yer can call me Hagrid fer now, though, just cos I like yeh." Hagrid winked at Harry, and then his face turned sincere. "Don' yeh get too used to it, though, cos when yeh're on the team yeh'll have to call me Coach. No exceptions."

Harry's frown deepened. "Team? What team?"

"Hoopwarts, o' course! Only one of the greatest junior wizarding basketball teams in the whole o' Britain!" Hagrid's face fell a little. "O' course, if Dumbledore spent a little less o' the school budget on Quidditch, maybe we'd be the greatest, but, yeh know how it is..."

Harry's mind was reeling: Hogwarts? Quidditch? Wizards? Maybe he really was going mental. "No, I... I don't. Sorry, but what exactly are you talking about?"

"Hogwarts, Harry! Thought yeh'd know all abou' the place!"

"Um... no. I don't, sorry. What's Hogwarts?"

Hagrid looked shocked. "Yeh don' mean ter say that yeh don' know... surely not... didn't yeh ever wonder where yeh parents learnt it all?"

"All what?" Harry asked. Hagrid's face turned purple and he looked over his shoulder to where the Dursely's were watching them, their eyes wide with fear. He stood up, and for the first time, Harry felt afraid of Hagrid: His fists were clenched at his sides and his teeth were gritted.

"Yeh never told him, did yeh? Yeh never told this boy – this boy! – a single thing about all this? And now – now he knows nothin' abou' – about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was a little unfair: he did know some things. In fact, he considered himself to be quite clever. "I can do some things," He said quietly to Hagrid, who looked close to tears of rage.

"Bu' – but yeh don't know about our world, Harry, or who yeh parents were. Yeh don' know who yeh are, what yeh are."

Uncle Vernon swallowed and cleared his throat before lisping meekly, "We agreed when we took him in that we wouldn't put up with this – this nonsense about his parents –"

"Don' you say another word, Dursley." Hagrid threatened darkly. He picked up his basketball and passed it tauntingly between his hands again. "An' don' you dare insult Lily and James Potter in front of me. Listen," his tone instantly softened as he addressed Harry. "Yeh a wizard, Harry."

"I'm a – a what?"

"A wizard, o' course, get'cha head in the game, Harry. Yeh ever seen things tha' were a little strange? Made things move withou' touchin' 'em? Ever done things yer can't explain?"

Like a film inside his head, waiting to be played, Harry thought of how his hair grew back overnight whenever it was cut, how he had found himself on top of the school building when being chased by Dudley and his cronies, how the glass had somehow disappeared from the snake enclosure at the zoo. Slowly, Harry nodded his head.

"Righ', o' course yeh have. An' yeh know why? It's 'cos yeh a wizard!"

Suddenly, Hagrid blew his whistle and the fire in the grate blew out just as a young, blonde teenage boy dressed impeccably in lemon yellow trousers, a bedazzled shirt and a lime green bowler hat slid down the chimney to land in the fireplace. Simultaneously, three other attractive teenagers – two girls and one boy – burst in through windows and doors around the hut. Uncle Vernon let out a cry of protest, but was obviously too terrified to intervene. All four teenagers had a dazzling smile plastered on their face, and the other boy was wearing a basketball jersey not dissimilar to the one Hagrid got for Harry for his birthday. The only real difference was that across the back was the name "TROY". A glitter ball descended from the ceiling and the room started flashing various bright colours. Harry was utterly perplexed, and suddenly music filled the room: a jaunty, up-tempo piano tune that had him desperate to tap his feet in time to it. A spotlight descended on Hagrid, who stood in the centre of the four teenagers, who began dancing around him.

"I know it's hard ter believe,
But cant yeh see,
Tha' the magic's righ' inside yeh?" He sang, his raspy voice surprisingly tuneful. The boy in the lemon yellow trousers put his arm around Hagrid's middle and sung the next verse.

"You've always felt so alone,
And totally pwned,
But there's magic right inside you!"

"Harry, you're like no other!
And we think you should know!" They all sang together now, in a five part harmony, and simultaneously performed an extremely complicated dance. Harry felt his face break into a grin as he marvelled at their talent.

"'Cos you're so much more than what,
Those muggles always say,
They are so lame!
And magic is who you are,
It's running through your veins,
It's in your veins!
So lonely before,
Now you've finally found...
What you've been hoping for!"

"What's that? Harry asked the dark haired girl who was dancing closest to him in the musical interlude that followed. She smiled knowingly and said: "A home, of course! And that's Hogwarts!"

"You'll get to learn loads of stuff,
Like how to make potions,
Though the teacher has emotioooons!"

"And don't go swimming because,
There's a squid in the lake,
Also, you can speak to snaaakes!"

"Yes, Hogwarts is like no other:
It's a Wizarding School!"

"Cos House Elves will make you food,
And season it perfectly,
So perfectly!
And you'll get to use a wand,
Though that sounds kind of dirty,
Kind of dirty!
So lonely before,
Now you've finally found...
What you've been hoping for!"

"Doo DooDooDoo
Doo DooDooDoo
Doo DooDooDoo
Waoh-ah-ah-oh."

Harry broke into a raucous round of applause – though the musical number had been unexpected, it was by no means unappreciated. Harry also suddenly realised that this entire ordeal had not been a dream as he had initially thought: he could never, not in a million years, imagined anything quite as wonderful as what he had just witnessed. Also, the smell of the smoke from the lights, the sound of the music, the feel of Hagrid's heavy hand on his back as he guided him out of the hut and away from the Dursley's – it was all real. Harry really was a wizard: he was leaving the Dursley's and he was going back to the place where he belonged. He would finally have a home, and the idea made Harry's heart soar. As he travelled to London with his new found friends, Harry chuckled to himself as he remembered his thoughts from earlier in the evening about how being eleven wasn't much different to being ten. How very wrong he had been, indeed.