I do not own Harry Potter.
A/N: This is for Season IV of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 03
Team & Position: Caerphilly Catapults, Chaser 1
Base Prompt: "Catapult" & Word Count in the range 2501-2750
Word Count: 2648 (According to Google Docs - sans disclaimer and author notes)
Optional Prompt: #02 - (genre) parody
Optional Prompt: #10 - (dialogue) "There's no such thing as magic!"
Optional Prompt: #11 - (occasion) first day at school
Thank you to Shirekat for beta'ing this story.
"Harry—yer a scientist."
The silence in the hut was deafening. Even the muted sound of the sea crashing along the coast and the lightly whistling wind seemed to vanish.
"I'm a what?" gasped Harry.
"A scientist, o' course," the large man said through his beard. As Hagrid settled onto the sofa, squeals of protest from its old wooden frame could be heard throughout the small room. His next statement covered the last of the ratty old sofa's protests, "Science is in yer blood."
Harry looked at Hagrid in wonder. "You mean my parents were scientists?" Harry queried timidly, his eyes watering at the thought of a connection to them after all these years.
A brief look of confusion crossed Hagrid's large face, "Well, er, tha' too. Yer parents were some o' the best scientists I've ever seen. But, yer parents don' need ter be scientists for yeh ter be one, and jus' because yer parents were scientists don' mean yeh'll be one. And there I go, ramblin' again. What I was tryin' ter say, Harry, is tha' science is liter'lly in yer blood."
Harry had lost his frightened countenance during Hagrid's speech. At the large man's final remark, Harry's expression morphed into one of confusion, "But, how can science be in my blood?"
Hagrid took a moment to ponder the question, but then his face lit up like a sunbeam breaking through a stormy sky, "Have yeh ever heard the saying, 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic?'"
Harry briefly nodded his head, but at that moment, the conversation between the disparately-sized pair was interrupted by a man that weighed nearly as much as Hagrid, though he was only half the giant man's height. Vernon Dursley's face was beginning to turn a shade of purple not normally seen on anything besides certain fruits. "There's no such thing as magic!" he shouted obstinately.
"Right yeh are, Dursley. Right yeh are," Hagrid agreed with the rotund man. Vernon, not expecting agreement, looked dumbfounded. However, Hagrid kept his attention on the smallest person in the hovel as he continued, "Have yeh ever made things happen when scared or angry?"
Harry turned to look into the fire blazing merrily away in the fireplace. The heat from the fire calmed him as he thought about the question. Every strange occurrence that had made his aunt and uncle furious had happened when he was upset or angry. A smile spread across his face, and he turned back to Hagrid to see the large man positively beaming at him.
"See?" said Hagrid. "All those things yeh couldn't explain, things tha' felt like magic, were the science in yer blood. Harry Potter, not a scientist—yeh wait, yeh'll be right famous at Hogwarts."
"What's Hogw—"
"That's not how science works!" Vernon exclaimed, interrupting his nephew.
"And what would a great Muggle like yerself know about science?" asked Hagrid.
"A sight more than you, I'd imagine, you bumbling oaf! We'll not send the boy off to some—some ruddy school run by some crackpot headmaster—"
"NEVER INSULT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IN FRONT OF ME!"
Hagrid pulled out a pink umbrella, pointing it at Dudley while muttering softly. There was a flash of violet light, a loud bang, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot holding his fat bottom with his hands. When he turned, Harry could see a pig's tail poking out between Dudley's fingers.
Vernon and Petunia quickly pulled Dudley into the other room. They cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.
"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," Hagrid said ruefully. He looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard before looking sideways at Harry, catching Harry's questioning look. "Instantaneous DNA recombination. Be grateful if yeh didn't mention tha' ter anyone at Hogwarts; not rightly supposed ter be doin' science."
Harry nodded quickly in understanding, finally sing his chance for some answers. "So, what's Hogwarts?" he asked.
"Hogwarts Institute of Science is the best school for science in the world. I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter," Hagrid said. He rummaged around in his pockets a bit before pulling out a rumpled yellow envelope.
Harry stretched out his hand to take the letter. Opening it, he read through his acceptance into Hogwarts and the included book list.
"Hagrid," he said finally, "it says here that they await my owl. What's that mean?"
"Er, right," said Hagrid. He reached into another pocket before he removed an owl—a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl. From the same pocket came a notepad and pen. "Jus' write yer acceptance here and we'll get it sent ter the school."
"What should I say?" Harry asked.
"Just tell 'em tha' yeh'll be glad ter attend. If yeh want ter, yeh can add somethin' abou' what an 'onor it is."
Harry quickly jotted down his response and handed the note to Hagrid. The large man rolled up the note and gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak.
"Come 'ere, Harry. Yer gonna want ter see this." Hagrid opened the door again and the owl catapulted off of Hagrid's arm into the storm outside. "Keep a close eye on 'im, now."
Harry watched apprehensively as the owl flew into the storm, but before it could get too far, or too wet, there was a small flash of light and the owl was gone. Harry turned to Hagrid in astonishment, "What was that, Hagrid?"
"Tha' was owl post. Fastest way ter send a message from one place ter another. Owls are singularly suited ter it, fer some reason. Now, it's gettin' late, why don't yeh get ter sleep. We got a big day ahead o' us, tomorrow."
Harry was standing in King's Cross, disparately looking for platform π-squared. His uncle had dropped him off fifteen minutes ago with a mocking laugh, showing him how platforms used "actual numbers." Harry had walked up and down, searching for the proper platform, but it seemed that his uncle had been correct; there were no Greek-lettered platforms. He had tried asking for help several times, but the station attendants just got annoyed with him.
Finally, he caught sight of a sign above a stall stationed between platforms 9 and 10. It read, "Square Pies! Made Fresh Today!" The stall was being run by a plump, red-headed woman surrounded by five children, all of whom had flaming red hair. As Harry approached the stall, he could see that there were indeed square pies available for purchase.
Feeling quite nervous as the departure time drew ever nearer, Harry hurried to the stall and asked, "How much for a pie?" The woman gave him a warm smile and pointed to a small sign sitting on the tabletop. As he looked at it, the prices, originally listed in Pounds, morphed to show prices in Sickles and Knuts. Now knowing that he had, at last, found someone that could direct him to where he needed to be, he pulled out the requisite amount, handing it to the woman. "One pie, please!"
"Of course. Take your pick of flavors from what's left. You're quite lucky you got here when you did, we were just about to close shop," the woman informed him as he selected a simple apple pie. "From the looks of you, you're off to Hogwarts then? Your first time?"
Harry nodded as he set the pie on the top of his trunk for later.
"Well, don't you worry, dear, my boy Ron is new, too," she pointed at the smallest of the boys. He was taller than Harry, thin and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.
"The thing is—" Harry swallowed nervously, "the thing is, I don't know how to—"
"How to get onto the platform?" she asked kindly, and Harry nodded, embarrassed.
"Not to worry," she said. "The entrance is right here next to the stall. We'll show you to the train."
"Er—okay," said Harry. Taking a quick look around, he noticed the signs of the nearby platforms and a question crossed his mind, "If you don't mind me asking, why platform π-squared? Why not something simpler? Like—I don't know—platform 9 ¾?"
From the look on the other children's faces, it appeared that it had been a bad question to ask. He was about to apologize when the woman said, "Because, dear, that's entirely too rational." The statement was followed by the groan of her children. Harry, however, started giggling.
With a slight break in his giggling, he managed to squeak out, "Just glad I found it, I was beginning to fear it was imaginary!" This elicited more groans from the red-heads.
"I can assure you the platform is entirely real." With a look shared between them, Harry and the woman burst into loud laughter. Her children were not nearly as amused.
"Right, then. We'll just be leaving," the eldest boy said before leading the pack of children through the wall.
The shock of seeing people walk through a wall stopped Harry's mirth, replacing it with awe. "How…" he began but couldn't finish as his mouth just hung open.
"Science," the woman replied with a wink. "Now come along, the train will be leaving soon and we must get you aboard."
Laying a hand on his shoulder, the woman directed him through the wall. The platform was packed with people, many making an effort to get onto the train before departure. A sign overhead showed that this was, indeed, the Hogwarts Express, leaving at eleven o'clock. Beside that sign was another, proudly proclaiming that this was Platform π-Squared.
The hand on his shoulder gave a brief squeeze, pulling his eyes back to the crowd. Together, the pair weaved their way towards the train as the woman called out, "Right, Weasleys! All you lot on the train." When the young girl attempted to board alongside her brothers, the matriarch gave a shout: "Not you, Ginny!"
Chaos ensued as the Weasleys transferred their things onto the train, depositing Harry and Ron in an empty compartment near the back. It was not long after the two boys had stowed their things that the final whistle sounded and the train started moving. Harry stuck his head out the window and shouted, "Thank you for all the help, Mrs. Weasley! I'm looking forward to the pie, I'm sure it'll be transcendent!" This received a groan from Ron and a laugh from the benevolent pie-seller.
Harry woke up early, filled with excitement for his first day of classes. Launching out of bed, he roughly shook Ron awake, too. "Come on, get up! Don't want to miss breakfast!"
At the word "breakfast," Ron responded, "All right, all right. I'm up."
Thirty minutes later, the pair were in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for an upperclassman they could follow to the Great Hall. A short time later, Ron's brother Percy arrived and agreed to show them the way. Exiting the room, Harry again marveled at the entrance to their common room, "I can't believe that they got a griffin statue to animate and act as our door."
Ron agreed, "I know, right? Just glad I'm not a Slytherin, getting into their common room must be rough. Do ya think they also need to slither out?"
The two boys looked at each other and laughed. Percy just shook his head.
The three were some of the first to arrive down in the Great Hall, everyone else slowly trickling in. The bushy-haired girl they had met briefly on the train—Hermione, Harry recalled—sat across from Ron and Harry.
However, before greetings could be exchanged, a cacophony of beating wings filled the hall. Harry looked up at the arrival of the mail owls in awe. Many were swooping around, finding their owners, and either dropping the mail to them or landing in front of them.
One owl landed in front of Hermione. Held within its beak was a magazine entitled The Quibbler.
"What's that?" Harry asked.
"A scientific journal," Hermione replied primly. "While I was shopping in Diagon Alley, I asked about different periodicals. This was the most recommended."
Their conversation had at last diverted Ron's attention from breakfast. As Hermione opened the magazine, he gave a chuckle.
"And what do you find so humorous, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asked, affronted.
"That anyone would consider The Quibbler scientific. I've heard the editor's daughter sometimes writes articles for it. Blimey, it's not even peer reviewed!"
As if it had burnt her, Hermione dropped the magazine with a hiss.
The three first years ate in silence until Professor McGonagall came around to hand out their class schedules. Quickly comparing his to Ron's, Harry saw that they were identical.
Ron gave a small sigh while reading through it, "Right busy, yeah? Physics and History of Science before lunch, followed by Alchemy and Absolute Safety in Research and Development this afternoon."
"Well, if we want to be on time for Physics, we should probably leave now," Harry said.
Ron and Harry got up from the table and began the trek to find their first classroom, Hermione only a few steps behind them. They all arrived early, and to pass the time before Professor Flitwick arrived, the three started guessing what they would learn today.
After taking the roll call, Professor Flitwick moved out from behind his desk and in front of the class. "Does anyone here know Calculus?" Flitwick asked. When no one responded, he continued, "Geometry?" Again, no reply. "What about Algebra?" Finally a couple of students, including Hermione, raised their hands.
Flitwick let out a small sigh, muttering to himself, "Better than some years."
The professor then addressed the students again, "I don't understand why the Headmaster insists that first years, or even second years, take Physics. Until you have been introduced to Calculus, there isn't much I can teach you. You will have covered the necessary skills in your Maths class by the end of your second year. Until then, we'll do other things."
The professor went back to his desk and pulled a large bag out from behind it. He handed it to one of the students in the front, "When you get the bag, take out three balls and pass the bag along."
Once everyone had three balls in hand, Professor Flitwick continued, "All right, today we're doing a practical lab on Newtonian physics and gravity—we're learning to juggle."
Harry's next class was even more surreal. It seemed that History of Science was simply a recording of the professor who had previously taught the class. However, instead of being played on a television, somehow the professor was being holographically projected in front of them. While the lecture was dry, Harry was fascinated by the technology.
Alchemy was both interesting and a bit unnerving. The lecture started with Professor McGonagall somehow turning a desk into a pig and back again. The students then spent the remainder of class working on turning a matchstick into a needle—a wood to metal transformation. Everything Harry had learned in primary school indicated that this was impossible, but there they were, attempting it. By the end of class, Harry had gotten his matchstick to turn to metal, but it was still shaped like a matchstick. Only Hermione had managed to perform the full transformation.
Professor Quarrel, who taught Absolute Safety in Research and Development, was nearly impossible to understand through this stutter. The speech impediment, couple with the intense smell of garlic in the room, left Harry with a splitting headache after class. Over dinner, Hermione performed some "very simple" science to cure Harry's headache, for which he was grateful.
That evening, lying in bed, Harry was looking forward to the rest of the year. He had friends, interesting classes, and science to do. He knew that his time at Hogwarts was going to be full of sufficiently advanced technology.