August 3, 1991

Minerva McGonagall was a classy witch. She was patient, kind and stern when needed. She treated everyone equally, even if she had her favorites. Of course, she had her favorites. Lily Evans, the witch that could inspire a nation with her beauty and rule the world with her brains, was, of course, one of her all-time favorites. James Potter, the kind, loyal wizard that literally single-handedly bring hell to an entire school if it meant his friends would be safe. She would have gladly taken on their son as her own if she could, but Harry had to stay with his relatives. And now, he refuses to attend Hogwarts. Now she is allotted all the school funds just to change the boy's mind. She was excited to see Harry, especially after not having seen him for ten years. She wondered if his relatives were treating him well. She wondered if he knew of his parents. She really hoped he did. A kid should know of their sacrifice. He should know of their love for him. He deserved to know their world.

As the magic professor approached the front door of the No. 4 Privet drive, she tried to think of reasons why Harry would have refused to attend Hogwarts, it is easily the greatest magic school in the world. She really hoped he didn't get an invitation to somewhere like Pigfarts.

McGonagall knocked on the door of the Dursley household, and to her surprise and a portly child opened the door. "Hello. May I help you?" the boy queried. "Yes, I am looking for Harry Potter. I was told he would be here," McGonagall had shared. "Harry is training. No one is allowed to disturb Harry while training. NO ONE," Dudley had noted with courage resounding through his voice as if he was a bodyguard for Harry. "Of course, may I ask when he will be done?" McGonagall had politely inquired. "He will be done around 17:00," Dudley stated matter of factly as he closed the door on the professor.

In the garage at the same time, Harry is viciously hitting the heavy bag. Three quick jabs with his leading right hand, pushing off his back foot every time and breathing out with every punch. The last jab is followed by a left cross and then a right hook. Harry's leading leg twists as to add power to the hook. Then the young boxer moves left and as soon as he lands, leans to the right the sweeps under as if dodging a hook. He stops dodging and closes in on the bag and hits the bag with hooks to the body. Then the timer goes off signaling the end of the heavy bag work out. Harry moves away from the heavy bag. Sweat glistens on the boy's body. He rests for a minute, waiting for the timer to go off again so he could work on the reflex bag. As soon as the timer goes off Harry gets to work immediately. Punching and dodging as the reflex bag came back.

As McGonagall was leaving, she passed by the garage and she heard the sound of punches and heavy breathing. Concerned, she rushes back to the front door and rapidly knocks. This time a tall, thin woman answers, Petunia Dursley. "Ma'am I insist on talking to Harry Potter immediately," McGonagall commands. "Sorry, but no one is allowed to interrupt Harry during his training, his policy. It is especially important since his first amateur match is coming up in less than two weeks," Petunia spits the words out aggressively. A grim look takes place on McGonagall's face, "What training requires him being punched?" she growls in a tone that could make any dark lord shit their pants. "The. Boy. Boxes." Petunia says, lacing each word with venom as she slams the door shut.

-1 Hour later-

A car pulls up in the driveway of No. 4 Privet Drive. Stepping out of the car is Vernon Dursley. Once an oversized whale of a man, he is now an oversized shark of a man. Training the young boxer has done wonders for the family. The man walks into the house and greets his wife and son. "Hello, my Tuney," Vernon says then kisses her forehead. "Dudley!" Vernon roars with joy as he hugs the portly boy. "Is Harry still training?" Vernon asks no one specifically. Dudley only nods. Vernon rushes up to the master bedroom and changes into some sweatpants and a sweatshirt before rushing into the garage.

"Hi, uncle, how was your day?" Harry greets his uncle without ever taking his eyes off the speed bag. The older man smiles before responding, "Tiring, how long have you been training?" "Since about 12:00 and it's about 16:15 right now, so a little bit over four hours," Harry mutters absent-minded. Vernon finds the punching mitts and straps them on. Just in time for the alarm to go off. Harry finishes up on the speed bag with one final big punch. Vernon hits the alarm and the timer sets to 1 minute. Harry rests for the minute with heavy breathing. Vernon takes a quick look around the garage floor, seeing multiple puddles of sweat on the floor he asks, "Whose turn is it to mop today?" "You. I mopped for the past two days," Harry breathes out. Vernon nods and the alarm goes off. "Thirty minutes of mitt punching, then you go shower before cooking dinner. If I'm mopping, then it means you're cooking," Vernon says. Harry nods and hits the alarm setting the timer for 30 minutes before getting into his southpaw stance.

McGonagall is what is known as an animagus. An animagus is a witch or wizard that can transform into an animal. This is a technique for highly skilled witches and wizards, or fifth years who want to help their friends, or reporters with little regards for boundaries. McGonagall's animagus form is a cat. As it happens, a cat was waiting outside the Dursley household. Now that Vernon was home, all she could from the garage was the sound of punches and grunting. Her concern for the spawn of two of her favorite students ever grew. Petunia had said that Harry "boxes" however, she had no idea what boxes had to do with being punched.

By now Harry had finished his boxing training. Harry wipes the sweat from his forehead and muscular body before rushing off to shower. Just as Harry begins preparation for the meal he was planning on cooking, there is a knock at the door. Dudley opens the door to the same woman who came by earlier looking for Harry. "I assume Harry is done training by now," McGonagall says in a reserved manner. The portly boy dumbly nods. Harry runs over to see McGonagall in the doorway. "Hello, may I help you?" Harry asks politely with a smile on his face. "Yes, I wish to talk to you about joining Hogwarts," McGonagall declared. "Would you like to talk about it over dinner, Madame…" Harry trails off. "McGonagall, Professor McGonagall, and yes I would," the professor kindly responds. He has the manners of his mother was the first thought that ran through her mind. A warm smile creeps onto her face as she is reminded of Lily Evans. "Dudley, would you mind telling your parents that we have a guest?" Harry requests. "Sure thing, 'cuz," Dudley energetically replies before running off. "Welcome in, Professor. Please wait in the living room while I prepare dinner," Harry says as politely as possible.

An hour later, five people were sitting in the dining room. "Uncle, aunt, this is Professor McGonagall from Hogwarts. She is here to negotiate about me attending Hogwarts," Harry kindly tells his guardians. "Harry! How dare you let this freak into our home?" Vernon manages to say without screaming, but there is obviously a great deal of restraint in his voice. "I assure you I am not a freak! I am a proud witch," McGonagall says. "I stand by my statement," Vernon says gruffly. "Uncle if she is a freak, then would I be a freak?" Harry asks. "We're not freaks Harry, we are simply witches and wizards," McGonagall says to the boy, worried that he would be upset. "Tch, Harry "The Freak" Potter would have been a cool boxing alias," Harry says dejectedly. " I've been meaning to ask. What is boxing?" McGonagall questioned. "Figures a freak like you wouldn't know. Boxing is a noble sport for us humans that requires you to punch your opponent into submission or you win with points," Vernon says snidely. "Such brutal sport!" McGonagall gasped. "We're getting off task. Professor McGonagall, you desire for me to attend Hogwarts. I desire to continue boxing. Maybe we can come to a compromise," Harry interjects. McGonagall nods before saying, "I am willing to implement boxing club into the school and it will meet every other day after classes." Harry shakes his head, "Everyday." "Every other day for an hour each meeting," McGonagall declares. "I believe we have nothing to talk about then, Professor. Even during the school year here, I train for at least three hours after classes. Cutting down that much in my training will surely be detrimental. What you are offering is the regimen I follow when I'm sick. I will take nothing less," Harry argues. "Fine, three hours a day with a volunteer professor for boxing club," the professor grimaces. "I'm sorry professor, but a professional trainer will need to hired, or at least one with a background in boxing. From what I have observed, I highly doubt any of the professors have any certifications to be training anyone in boxing. There will also need to be a satisfactory gym for the boxing club meets. Roadwork will not be included in the three hours of training. That brings me to my next point there needs to be a path that stretches at least three miles," Harry demands. "Okay," McGonagall reluctantly agrees. Harry, now confident, wants to see how far he can take it, "I also reserve the right to challenge any to a six-round boxing match refereed by the hired professional trainer, should I feel offended, the loser shall be expelled." McGonagall sighs, "I must speak to the headmaster about this."

McGonagall moves over to the fireplace and pulls out her wand and waves her wand before shouting, "Dumbledore!" A face appears in the fireplace and that face asks McGonagall, "What is it that you require Professor?" McGonagall explains Harry's request silently and Dumbledore says, " It is fine. He is the Boy-Who-Lived. Who is going to mess with the boy?" Harry then runs over to the fireplace and screams, "The policy refers to professors too!" "Harry my boy you have a deal!" exclaims Dumbledore. "Deal," Harry says with a grin.

A/N Thank you for reading please review just don't flame. I take constructive criticism. Anything to make my writing better. Flames will not make my writing anymore enjoyable, nor will it make it any better for anyone else. And extra points for anyone who gets the Pigfarts reference. I'm posting this chapter early due to midterms coming up. I fear I will spend less than 15 hours asleep over the 5 days.