Author's note:
I'm afraid the first bit of chapter one is going to look remarkably like chapter four of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in a lot of ways, as it is the premise for the story but also the point at which my story deviates from canon. I apologise for this, and shall endeavor to make everything so forth much less monotonous. This is, in essence, *what happens when Harry sticks to his gut and remembers that he is to NOT ASK QUESTIONS*.
Also, sadly, I don't own a thing :(
All the best - B

The Keeper Of The Keys

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.
"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.
There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands - now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.
"Who's there?" he shouted. "I'm warning you - I'm armed!"
There was a pause. Then -
SMASH!
The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.
A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.
The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping do that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.
"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…"
He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.
"Budge up, yeh great lump." said the stranger.
Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.
"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.
Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.
"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes."
Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.
"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"
"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant. He reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber and threw it into a corner of the room.
Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.
"Anyway - Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursley's, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here - I mighta sat on it at some point but it'll taste all right."
From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.
Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"
The giant chuckled.
"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."
He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm.
"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."
His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shrivelled crisp packets in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he;d sunk into a hot bath.
The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs and a bottle of some amber liquid which he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."
The giant chuckled darkly.
"Yer great puddin' of a son don't need fattenin' any more, Dursley, don't worry."
He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but still he couldn't take his eyes off the giant. The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before turning back to Harry.
"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I work at Hogwarts. I've come ter give yer letter and take yer teh get yer books an' that."
Harry nodded, although he had no idea what Hagrid was talking about. He had learned a long time ago that asking questions would only make it difficult for him to sit down for the next few days, so he said nothing as Hagrid passed him a heavy envelope with emerald green writing across the front.

Mr H Potter
 The Floor
 Hut-on-the-Rock
 The Sea

Harry pulled out the letter and read, his eyes narrowing in confusion, but still he said nothing. School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Supreme Mugwump. We await your owl…
What in the world was going on? If he didn't know any better, he may think this was the Dursley's idea of a joke, but Harry knew that the Dursley's did not have a sense of humour and surely did not possess the imagination to come up with something as elaborate as this. For some reason though, he seemed to trust Hagrid. His beetle black eyes were kind, Harry thought, so maybe this wasn't a joke after all.
Harry looked up at Hagrid and frowned.
"Sir, I'm not sure I can afford to go to this school. I'm sorry for wasting your time."
"Well yer parents left money fer that, didn't they." Hagrid smiled widely and patted Harry on the shoulder - so hard his knees buckled and he fell against the wall.
"Oh." Harry thought for a moment, then decided that a question was necessary. "How may I send an owl, Sir?"
"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl - a long quill and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note which Harry could read upside-down:
Dear Mr Dumbledore,
 Given Harry his letter, taking him to buy his things tomorrow. Weather's horrible!
 Hope you're well, Hagrid.
Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.
Harry realised his mouth was open and closed it quickly.
"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town."
He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.
"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."