Updates will occur every two weeks.
Disclaimer: none of this belongs to me and all that jazz.
[A/N: I just noticed (today is April 15th) that FFN is messing up the formatting of my stories. The section breaks disappear sometimes. I've been fixing that, but if you notice any error in that regard, please let me know.]
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Chapter 1 - The Secrets of Aunt Petunia
Privet Drive number Four had four inhabitants. However, if you asked the neighbours, most of them would say that only three people lived there. Petunia and Vernon Dursley, and their son, Dudley. They were common people, the sort that you would find dozens of in that neighborhood. The fourth person who lived in the house was Harry Potter. He'd been seen few times by the neighbors, and although there was nothing really visibly different in him, he was distinct from his family. Quieter, perhaps. But there was more - not that most people would believe it. Besides, Petunia had always made sure that no one would know what was wrong with her nephew.
Minerva McGonagall knocked at the door. She wasn't looking forward to meeting with the Dursleys, but the visit was her obligation as the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. Ten years ago, Petunia Dursley had not welcomed her nephew, and had treated Minerva with only the minimal politeness. If it were up for McGonagall, Harry Potter would have never been left with his maternal relatives. But, at the time of James's and Lily's imprisonment there had been no other option. Sirius Black was drowning away his sorrows in bottles of Ogden's, and no family would want to adopt a child of known Death Eaters - and the ones who would were the very ones that they wanted to keep the boy away from.
The envelope in her hands read "The cupboard under the stairs", and McGonagall wondered what that meant. As far as she knew it, keeping children in cupboards was not a common muggle custom.
The door was opened, and on the other side appeared a boy. Minerva had no doubt that he was the one she'd come for. The child looked a lot like another one that she had welcomed into Gryffindor many years ago.
"Yes?" the boy said.
"Mr. Potter," Minerva said and paused. The boy frowned, but nodded. "I am Minerva McGonagall, a teacher from Hogwarts. I have come to speak to you and your relatives. May I come in?"
Harry hesitated, and then someone shouted from inside the house. "Tell them we don't want to buy anything!" said a woman.
"Just a minute, please," the boy told Minerva, "I'll call my aunt," and then he closed the door.
Minerva waited for a few minutes. She could hear voices inside the house, but couldn't make out what was being said. After a moment of silence, the door was opened again, and a sour looking Petunia regarded her with disdain.
"Mrs. Dursley, I am Minerva McGonagall, if you remember. I was the one who accompanied Dumbledore when he brought Harry, ten years ago."
"Yes, it's you," Petunia replied as her eyes ran over Minerva. "I remember. What do you want now?"
"I've come to bring Mr. Potter's Hogwarts letter, naturally."
Petunia snorted, and then opened the door wider. "Come in," she said.
Minerva entered the house and took a look at the place. It looked like a nice house, as far as muggle houses were. There were a few portraits in the wall of the stairs. Pictures of Petunia, her husband, and a boy, who was probably their son - Minerva remembered that they had a boy of Harry's age - but their nephew was nowhere to be seen in the photos. Or at all. The boy had disappeared, but there was a noise of running water coming from another room, and Minerva thought that he was there.
"As I said, Mrs. Dursley, I came to bring Mr. Potter's letter. Can you call him? And please, tell me what you have explained to him about magic and the wizarding world, I will fill him in whatever you didn't…"
"Nothing," Petunia replied, her voice quiet.
"Excuse me?"
"The boy doesn't know," Petunia said. "I didn't tell him anything about your world or anything. I'd hoped that he wouldn't be like Lily. There were signs that he was of the same sort," she paused, grimacing, "but I still thought that maybe he wouldn't… I thought that he could be normal!"
Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose and smoothed her hair, trying to reign in her temper before speaking.
"There is nothing abnormal in being a wizard, Mrs. Dursley. And why would you expect Mr. Potter to not be one? Both of his parents have magic, you underst—"
"I said I'd hoped, but since he was six I pretty much knew that he was one of you. I try to keep it from Vernon the best I can. But he knows as well, some things were hard to keep from him…"
Minerva ignored the nonsense that Petunia was saying. Certainly she didn't intend to stop her nephew from going to Hogwarts, did she?
"Indeed he is a wizard, otherwise there wouldn't be a letter in his name, you understand." Petunia nodded. "Can you please call your nephew, then? I need to explain him everything, and give him his letter."
She would spend much more time than planned, and Minerva didn't look forward having to go through everything that had happened, and saying that Potter's parents were in prison. And what had the Dursleys told him about his parents? She voiced the question.
"I told him they died in a car crash! They might as well have done it. I didn't want him getting any ideas of becoming a criminal as well. I will get the boy," she said and turned away, then she stopped, as if she'd forgotten something. "Please, take a seat," she added and pointed to the sofa.
Things were getting worse by the second, and suddenly Minerva wished that she hadn't been the one to come. Petunia was back with the boy briefly.
"She needs to talk to you, Harry," Petunia said and then left the room, huffing.
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"So... I can do magic." Harry murmured, just to confirm what the woman - Mrs. McGonagall - had told him. Was that serious?
The truth was that he had his own suspicious about things that had happened before, and now magic sort of made sense to explain them, but what she said still sounded like bullshit...
Like the time he ended up on the roof while he was running away Dudley, or when his hair grew back after Aunt Petunia had cut it...
"... er! Mr. Potter!"
Harry snapped back from his memories.
"I'm sorry, I was just… thinking."
The woman huffed. "I was saying that you have the capacity for performing magic, but that in order to be a functioning wizard, you will need to be educated. I am a teacher at Hogwarts, a magical boarding school, where you will be able to learn magic. I came here to discuss that."
Right. But Harry was still suspicious. It was one thing to not be able to explain a few things, but witchcraft - or whatever it was that the woman was proposing - was not necessarily the answer for that.
"Can you prove it?" He asked.
"I'm sorry?" McGonagall asked, frowning.
"How do I know that you are really from this school and not someone who is lying to kidnap me take off my organs and sell them in the black market?" When his relatives left him alone, Harry watched the telly, and once he had seen on the news a case about a girl who had been kidnapped and had her organs taken out.
"Mr. Potter! That is a preposterous assumption! Doing such a thing would be like performing the darkest of mag—" she stopped suddenly, and took a deep breath. "Would you be satisfied if I could prove that I am a witch?"
The boy looked down and frowned. He remained quiet for a few moments and then turned to the witch, nodding. That was something, at least.
"Very well," McGonagall said and took a - stick? - that was being kept in the long sleeve of her dress. "This is a wand, something that wizards need in order to perform magic. You'll have one too." she told, looking at Harry. Then she said something that he couldn't understand - it didn't even sound like English - and pointed the wand at a vase that was on the table. The vase levitated, hovered in the air for a little and then flew right to her hands.
Harry gaped and widened his eyes. That couldn't be a trick! The woman had never been in the house before, neither had she touched the vase. She wasn't lying.
Just like that, he felt as if his world had expanded. Magic existed, and he could use it. Maybe he wouldn't need to live with his relatives anymore!
But McGonagall said that he would need to study magic, and he couldn't afford it. He doubted that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would.
"Mrs. McGonagall, you said that I'd need to go to school. I can't pay for it."
"Hogwarts offers free tuition for all magical children, Mr. Potter. You need not concern yourself with that. Besides, you have a vault at Gringotts - our bank - that was left by your parents. It is your right to withdraw an amount for necessities such as school supplies or clothes. I would think that what is in your family's vault is enough for that."
"Were my parents magical too?" he asked, and before she could reply, he added. "Can't magical people avoid car crashes?"
McGonagall sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn't speak for some time, but seemed to be collecting her thoughts to explain something.
"I have more to tell you, Mr. Potter, so that you can understand your situation before going to Hogwarts. Your parents did not die, your aunt has lied to you - something that I have just discovered." she said.
Harry smiled, but the smile was short lived. If they had not died, then they had left him on purpose… did his mother not know how her sister was? Harry felt his muscles tense, and his heartbeat quicken. How dare his aunt lie to him? And how dare his parents leave him?
"But why would she lie?" he blurted out the question, unable to stop himself. He wondered where his aunt was now, since she had disappeared after telling him that Mrs. McGonagall wanted to talk to him.
"Maybe you should ask her, Mr. Potter," Harry huffed. Yeah, right. Because she would tell him the truth. McGonagall seemed to share his concern, because she continued. "But what I understand, from what she told me today, is that she wanted to avoid your contact with magic. She told me that she hoped you weren't magical like your parents…"
Harry opened his mouth and closed several times, at a loss of words. It was a lot to process. Aunt Petunia had lied to him for all of his life, and not only said that his parents were dead, but also had hidden from him that he could do magic. And where the hell where his parents? They'd abandoned him with relatives that hated him.
"Where are my parents?" he finally asked. "Why did they leave me here?"
McGonagall sighed and looked away for a few moments. She remained silent before turning to him. "They did not abandon you, if that's what you are thinking. They are in prison, Mr. Potter."
"Why? What did they do?"
"There was a war…" McGonagall continued, not looking at Harry, before she paused and shook her head slightly. "But I am getting ahead of the story. I suppose I should start by saying that the magical world is composed by different people. Some were born in a magical family. Others were born in a non magical one - muggle, that's how we call it. And there are the ones who have these two heritages. Those are the half-bloods, like you and I. You are the son of a pureblood wizard, which is the term used to refer to those who have only a magical ancestry; and a mother born to muggle parents…"
"Do you know their names?" Harry interrupted.
"Did your aunt—Nevermind. Their names are James and Lily."
He nodded silently, repeating the names once in his head, although he doubted that he could ever forget them. He'd tried many times to get their names from his aunt, but she's always refused to even talk about his parents.
"Continuing… a few of the pureblood families do not want muggleborns - or even halfbloods - to be part of the magical society. They discriminate these people. Not your father's family, though," McGonagall smiled, but her eyes did not share the expression. "Not traditionally, at least. The Potters have always been very open and accepting of everyone, independent of blood. Hence why your father married your mother, who is a muggleborn."
Harry got distracted for a few seconds. He could see where the story was going. Someone had done something to his parents because of blood - whatever they mean with that. He wanted to know who it was...
"And by the time you were born, there was a war going on in magical Britain. A wizard whose name we do not speak wanted to rule the country, and kill and persecute those that he deemed unworthy. He wanted a society free of those who were not purebloods. He had a lot of followers, and your parents were among them, Mr. Potter."
"What?" he asked, frowning. That made no sense at all.
"I suppose I could say that I was somewhat close to your parents, Mr. Potter. And I do not know how that happened. I ask myself sometimes… We didn't know - or, we weren't sure - that they were indeed Voldemort's followers until after his downfall, with the end of the war. When they were denounced, they admitted it, and they did have a mark on their arms - the Dark Mark - which is a signal that the Dark Lord - the wizard I mentioned - used to mark those who worked for him."
McGonagall didn't speak for a long time, and Harry used that to try and make sense of everything that she told him. This wizard had been killing people like his mother, and apparently he didn't want people like her in the world… but somehow she chose to follow him? And he accepted? It didn't make sense, and he said that aloud.
"As I told you, Mr. Potter… no one - not even those who knew your parents - can explain what happened. I would suggest you to understand what they did wrong, and endeavor to not repeat it. Understanding why they did it will never justify it, however."
Harry did not really agree with that. He didn't want to pick a side on war that had ended. He just wanted to learn about his parents now.
"I want to go to Hogwarts," Harry blurted, not wanting to give any doubts. It was a chance that he would not let go to be away from his relatives. McGonagall nodded, and she didn't look surprised.
"I have to give you this," McGonagall said and gave him a closed envelope. "It is your letter of acceptance. Letters like this are magically generated, and if it exists, it means that you are indeed a wizard. Classes will start on September 1st. Inside the envelope there is a list of the school supplies that you will need to buy. I will be able to help you with that in a few days, and you can also go by yourself to the place indicated in the list to sort that out. I would recommend waiting, and having an adult accompany you."
Harry checked the list. Books about Charms, Transfiguration, and other subjects. Cauldron and ingredients for… Potions, really? As in magical potions that witches made in the movies? That was still surreal.
"Will my aunt let me go?" he asked, remembering that maybe his relatives would forbid him to go. On one side, he reckoned that they would want him away, but on the other, maybe they would try to stop him from having one good thing. And McGonagall had told him that his aunt wanted him to be away from magic. Was McGonagall suggesting that his aunt should take him to buy his school supplies? He doubted that would happen. Ever.
"She cannot stop you from going to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter. Well, she could try, but that would take time. I would advocate in your favor, as would Albus Dumbledore - he is the Headmaster at Hogwarts, and a very influential figure for us." She paused. "But I don't think she will try to stop you."
He hoped so.
"Now I must talk to your aunt, Mr. Potter. I can take you to Diagon Alley on the next Monday to buy your school supplies, since you won't have anyone to go with you. That is, if you want that."
Harry considered saying that he would go alone, wanting to get to know the magical world as soon as possible. But maybe it would be good to have someone who already knew it to guide him.
"Yes, I want that, please," he said.
"Very well. I will be here at 10 o'clock sharp."
"Alright, I will be ready then."
"Good day to you, Mr. Potter. See you on Monday," McGonagall said and got up. She went in the direction of the kitchen, and Harry went to his cupboard. He wanted to reread his letter and the lists of books and supplies.
The boy tried to listen to the conversation going between his aunt and McGonagall, but he couldn't hear much. Sometimes Aunt Petunia's voice sounded higher, but it never got to the point of the shrill that she sometimes used with him. It was good that his uncle was at work, he supposed, although the idea of McGonagall doing something to Vernon was actually interesting. What else could the woman do, besides making stuff fly? He bet that she could make Uncle Vernon afraid. Someday he would, too.
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[A/N: Let me know what you think. Feedback is always welcome!]