Cecity

Chapter Two

If one was to walk down the street of Privet Drive, located in Little Whinging, you would be hard pressed to find yourself capable of sociable conversation regarding the surroundings. In fact, the town felt almost abnormal by how normal and completely unremarkable everything was, down to the duplicated boxy homes and the perfectly manicured lawns. You would expect to open any door and find a family reminiscent of an old television show. If one was to stop at number 4 Privet Drive and try to describe it, they might remark on how remarkably plain it was, or perhaps how neatly their garden was tended. If you asked someone inside Number 4 Privet Drive to describe their house they might use such descriptions as "The epicenter of an earthquake" or perhaps "Under assault from the whole bloody British army." These descriptions may have been influenced at the time, as it seemed one of their neighbors had mistaken the front door for their garage and was now trying to park in it. The banging from the door finally ceased and the swaying house calmed itself.

"Vernon what was that?" One of the residents asked, her face pale as a sheet. In all fairness she was a particularly thin woman, so its effect was more pronounced on her than her other family who had the advantage of being biological anchors. Her question went unanswered as the sound of the doorknob shattering and the front door swinging open rang through the house. As they rushed into the main hall, the family was greeted by what appeared to be a bipedal bear that had just escaped from some sort of science lab, or so his great size would make you think. A pair of eyes appeared in the mass of hair upon his head and he leaned down so they could see his very much human face.

"Dursley?"

The response took a very long time in coming, as at first Vernon had mistaken the question for some sort of growl. "Yes, I am Vernon Dursley, and who are you to break into my house and destroy my door? I have half a mind to call the police this instant!"

"Good, I got the righ' house. Wouldn' want to go inter some other muggle's home. That woulda been a righ' mess to clean up, eh?" His face broke out into a wide smile and beamed at Vernon expectantly. Vernon's face grew redder and redder before adopting a rather unhealthy looking purple mottled look as he tried to puzzle through the statement and determine how grave an insult "muggle" was. The giant of a man continued, not noticing Vernon's ever increasing fury and deciding that the muggle was rather slow. "Is this little 'Arry then?" He asked as he bent down to observe the child hiding behind the two adults. The innocent seeming question finally snapped Vernon out of his rage induced trance by the sheer indignity the inquiry caused him.

"No it bloody well isn't! This is my son Dudley, and I would like you to kindly get the hell out of my house." His wife awoke from her own trance by her maternal instincts kicking in.

"Vernon! Don't use such foul language around little Dudders."

His glare quickly focused on her. "No! I won't have it Petunia. This man breaks into our house, damages our property, and all because of his unhealthy interest in our son who he calls the wrong name. I can say whatever the hell I want." Here he turns back to the invader in his home. "I want you at of my house right this instant or I'll call the police."

Hagrid turned and winced at the sight of the splintered door swinging loosely on crooked hinges. "Ah, well I am sorry 'bout that. Shoulda realized your door wasn't all charmed up like mine." Hagrid gave Vernon a wide grin and gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder, sending him toppling into the wall. "I'm real sorry about the mess, but if you could go fetch Harry? I've come to help him get ready for his first year at Hogwarts!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I already told you, his name is Dudley. Now get out of my house!" Vernon's response was met with a wave from the Giants hand.

"I'm not tha' stupid, Dursley. I dropped 'im off when he was a baby. I know he's here." The giants eyes that once twinkled merrily had frozen, and now glared down at the small man like small chips of obsidian.

A quiet gasp came from Petunia. "You're one of them. You want him to go to that awful school." The accusation seemed to bring Hagrid back to his old affable self.

"Tha's right. Harry's been down for Hogwarts since he was born. Both his parents went there you know." He seemed to completely forget his previous mood. That was spoiled almost immediately by Vernon, who didn't seem to understand self-preservation.

"He's not going. I don't want to send him off to some freak show so that he can learn magic tricks to torment my family with."

"It's not up te you. Harry is goin' to go to Hogwarts whether you like it or not. Now, tell me where Harry is." His threat was punctuated by the waving of a small pink umbrella. Deciding not to risk whatever the giant was going to do with an umbrella, Vernon motioned behind him and mumbled something.

"Wha' was that?"

"The broom cupboard."

Vernon was nearly knocked over as the giant rushed past him. The cupboard door was ripped off its hinges and cast carelessly to the ground. He was met by the overwhelming stench of sweat as it rushed out of the room. The lone occupant was curled up on a dirty mattress that took up the entire floor space the cupboard offered. He was carefully lifted out of the cramped space by arms as thick as his whole body.

The giant looked down on the small disheveled boy and let out a smile. He looked just like his dad. "'Ello there Harry, my name's Hagrid."

##

Harry was woken from his sleep by the sudden removal of his cupboard door. A massive pair of arms encircled him, and he felt himself carefully lifted from the small room and gently placed on two feet in front of the behemoth. Suddenly he spoke. Harry was stunned for a second, having not heard any other voice besides his families in years. The unfamiliarity created waves of excitement to wash down his back. Rubeus Hagrid. He knew that name. A glimpse of the castle appeared in his mind. His heart swelled in his chest.

"Are you from Hogwarts, Hagrid sir?" He inquired, barely holding in a gasp.

The giant of a man chuckled, a low rumbling pulse that Harry could feel reverberating in the air next to him. "I'm from Hogwarts alrigh'. No need for any 'sirs' now, just Hagrid will do for ye." Hagrid startled ruffling through his jacket, searching all of his pockets for some sort of lost item. Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for. Slowly, he removed a slightly squashed looking rectangle and held it out towards the boy. "It's not much an' I may have sat on it on the way, but for wha' its worth, Happy Birthday Harry." Harry stared ahead in confusion for a few seconds before realization dawned on him. It was a cake, more specifically a birthday cake, but more importantly a birthday cake for him.

"T-thank you Hagrid." Harry gave him a weak smile. Hagrid once again remained ignorant towards the emotions of those opposite him and started stuffing the cake back into one of his many pockets.

"I'll hold onto it fer yeh, till you get a proper trunk to store it." Harry's murmured thanks almost went unheard. "Ah, don' worry abou' it." Hagrid waved his hand in front of him to ward of Harry's thanks. "Well, lets get going then."

"Are we going to Hogwarts?" Not even Hagrid could miss the wistful tone that colored the boys voice.

" 'Fraid not Harry. We'll be going to Diagon Alley to pick you up some school supplies. Wand and whatnot." At hearing they wouldn't be going to Hogwarts Harry had wilted, but he perked right back up at the mention of a wand."

"Will I be able to do magic with my wand.?"

Hagrid seemed to get a bit embarrassed at the question and shuffled a bit. "You won't learn any magic till you star' taking your classes up at Hogwarts, but it doesn' matter because you can't do any magic at home. Against the law, you know. Snap your wand in half if they find out." Here Hagrid unconsciously started fiddling with his umbrella.

"What if you're in danger and you need to use magic?"

"Well, I suppose it'll be alrigh' if its in self-defense." Harry heaved a sigh of relief. The pair left the hall and made their way past Harry's family. Vernon merely stared at the two, emanating pure rage that was only matched by the anger Petunia was radiating. Her ire was not aimed at a person, but rather the door and the castle of a school that lay behind it. Dudley sat behind his parents, gawking at Hagrid with absolutely no idea what was going on. As Hagrid squeezed through the doorway, Harry noticed that the door was not in its usual connected-to-the-wall spot and was now lying crumpled on the floor. Harry froze in the doorway. Hagrid took several giant steps down the path before realizing his charge hadn't moved. "Well c'mon then, gotta leave the house if you wanna get a wand."

"I..." Harry struggled to relay the enormity of what Hagrid was asking. For the past years he had been confined to the darkness of his mind and the confines of his cupboard. He had forgotten what it was like to be outside and feel the real air hit your face and had only experienced a pale mockery when he lived through memories he fought for. He hadn't left the house in years, and wasn't sure he wanted to change that. What if his pseudo-vision that enabled him to traverse the home stemmed from his already present familiarity of it before the incident. It was quite possible the world would be truly dark outside the boundaries of the Dursley residence. However, it was all proven moot when a meaty arm swept Harry out of the door and into the outside world.

##

So far his fears had been well founded. His basic perception of the world around him slowly deteriorated as they left the Dursley's till he could feel nothing around him, except for Hagrid's presence.

"Hagrid we have to go back. I can't see anything." Harry desperately turned towards the giant as anxiety twisted a knot in his chest. The longer he stayed in the dark the worse the feeling got. He felt as if he was being drawn in, a sense of drowning pervaded his senses as if he would be lost in it and never be able to crawl out.

"Ye get that from your father, no doubt. Blind as a bat he was, can't remember him being without his glasses. We'll get you a pair in Diagon Alley, they'll be sure to have some." Hagrid continued his progress despite the desperate child trying to push against him.

"No, no you don't understand. I can't see. I-I'm blind."

"I'm telling you tha' all ye need is a good pair of glasses. There are other ways of fixing your eyes if ye don't like glasses. My old friend Moody got a whole magical eye put in his head. Really creepy tha' is though, don't think you wan' it done. Never looks at the same place as the other eye ye see, can even look through walls and the like." Hagrid let out an involuntary shiver at the memory.

"They can make whole eyes?" Harry questioned.

"Well, I suppose, but I should think tha' you'd rather just get some glasses. Anyway, we 'ave reached the edge of magical Britain."

The blurry smear of landscape suddenly focused and a large object not dissimilar from the Dursley's house became apparent to him. Hagrid led him through a door and the world exploded into life around him. The previous absence of visual information only emphasized the new surplus of images entering his mind. His momentary falter in the entrance to the building was due not only to the reinstatement of his vision but also the clarity of the pictures he was seeing. In the Dursley's home he understood only a brief outline of his surroundings coupled with a previous knowledge of the house that allowed him to navigate. Here in this new magical world he saw much more than small vibrations indicating where walls where. He knew that there was a man standing behind the bar a couple feet away from him, but he also knew how large that man was and what his haircut was. Harry stood frozen in the door frame, gazing in wonderment at all the people crowding in what he had figured out to be a pub of some sort.

Harry was pulled from his stupor by a voice calling to him from a table directly next to him. "Excuse me dear, would you mind shutting that door. That breeze is cutting right through my old cloak's warming charm." Harry instinctively closed the door and turned to the woman awaiting further instruction, an instinct drilled into him by years of fearful obedience. His face was brought into the flickering light of the torches fastened to the walls, and the woman gave a start of recognition. "Is it really you child?" She reached out gingerly, her fingers grasping for his face.

Harry took a quick step back and her hand wavered feebly in the air. "I don't think I am. I'm sorry." He replied with a forced smile.

"Yes, yes you are probably right. No one has seen him since he was a baby, it might be too much to ask that he'll just show up at the Cauldron someday. But I'm here every day always with hope that I'll meet him, and then I can say thank you."

"Who are you waiting for? If I ever meet them I'll tell them to come here." Harry offered.

"You'll have heard of him no doubt. Lower chance of you not have then my finding him. I'm waiting for our savior. The Boy Who Lived, little Harry Potter."

"How do you know my name?" It was out before Harry even understood what she had said. There was a momentary pause as he realized what she said and as she worked her way through his inadvertent confession. This time she moved quicker than Harry was able to respond, and his hair was pulled away from his forehead to reveal his scar.

"My heavens... it is you. I've finally found you!" The old witch seemed to find a well of energy as she leapt up from her table. She grasped his hands with both of hers and shook them vigorously. "Thank you Harry Potter, thank you. My boy was an auror you see. He died halfway through the war. That bastard tore through the protections like they were paper. Wasn't the crafter's fault really, nothing seemed to be able to stop him. Not till you. Just a year old and you stopped him right dead." She became choked with emotion and her speech trailed off into silence as she kept shaking his hand. The sudden outbreak of emotion in the previously placid pub drew the attention of the normally disinterested patrons.

A man who had been sitting at the table next to the old witches had apparently heard parts of the conversation and rose to address Harry. "Is it true? You're Harry Potter?" The man's question was backed with an unyielding steel gaze daring Harry to answer falsely.

"I-I guess I am. But I don't know of killing any evil people."

His answer prompted a mass rush, as all the members of the building closed in on him, all seemingly eager to shake his hand and offer profuse thanks for actions he couldn't remember. Hagrid was drawn from his conversation with the barkeep as he finally noticed the mass of people approaching Harry."

"Alrigh' that's enough. Give the poor boy some space." Hagrids large mass displaced most of the people as he waded into the crowd. Easily breaking through the front line, he got in front of Harry and used his body as a buffer. "We need to be headin' to Diagon Alley now, you've all had your chance to see him." Putting a hand on each of Harry's shoulders he pushed them through the crowd and into an alley behind the pub. Hagrid took out his umbrella and tapped on what appeared to be a random part of the wall. The previously solid wall rippled like water, extending from the point of Hagrid's umbrella. The bricks slowly slid apart, gliding back into the sides of the alley and revealing the spectacle behind them.

A wide street stretched out in front of them as far as Harry could sense, lined with bustling hubs of activity. He was pulled out into the crowd as Hagrid surged forward. "We'll be goin' to Gringotts first to pick up some galleons for yeh."

"What's a galleon?"

Hagrid's hand snapped up to his head. "Oh, tha's rights you lived with muggles. You probably have no clue about any o' this wizarding stuff. Well, a galleon is wizard money. There are 17 Sickles in a Galleon, and 29 Knuts in a Sickle. I don't know how much that is in muggle money."

"If everyone can do magic why do you need money?" Hagrid cocked his head to the side and remained silent for a few steps. Well, a few for Hagrid. This translated to quite a few for Harry. He used the break in conversation to try to observe as much as detail of the magical surroundings as he was permitted by his vision.

"Tha's a tough one. I'm sure you'll learn all abou' that at Hogwarts. Didn't quite finish my studies there you know, so I'm not the best to ask. I suppose that's why we need money. Not everybody knows everything. You may study for the rest of yer life but never learn how to make a broom. If yeh want a broom then you need to pay a fella who does know how. There are limits to yer magic. You can't always wave your wand and make everythin' better. For example, you can't make your own food. Not quite sure why, but I know tha' you can't." Harry nodded and accepted the explanation, before another question entered his mind.

"Why couldn't you use magic to make tons of money? Can't you can make copies of things?"

Hagrid frowned and looked away. "Never really thought of tha' before. I suppose there is something about 'em that means you can't copy more. Somethin' to do with them being goblin made."

"They're made by goblins? Goblin's are real?"

Hagrid chuckled at his exuberance. "Never met somebody so excited about goblins before. Nasty little creatures they are, not even I can like them." Harry decided to ignore whatever that meant. "The goblins run the wizarding bank. They produce all of the money and they store it all for wizards in their cave vaults. Extremely greedy creatures they are, kill their own parents for half a sickle. They hate wizards too, always having these big uprisings."

Harry turned a bit pale at this. "B-But we're going to a bank. Are they're going to be goblins?"

"O' lots. They control all the British vaults. They won't harm yeh, don't worry. Just don't expect a big welcome. They'll bear you being there just as long as it takes. Jus' don't waste their time."

Harry became aware of the looming building that was increasingly seeming like their intended destination. The massive building towered over the neighboring shops and cast a long shadow over the steps before it. Two minuscule figures stood at attention at the doorway, maintaining an air of indifference that was hampered by the glares they gave every human that entered the doors they guarded.

Harry stepped out onto the marble steps and swayed gently before finding purchase and continuing down the steps, stumbling like a drunkard. "I never did get used to that, and I never will. I hate that bloody cart. Yer da' though, he loved to come to Gringotts. 'Almost as good as a broom' he used to say." Hagrid followed behind Harry at a more sedate pace with a queasy look on his face.

"Do you have to do that every time you go to the bank?" Harry asked, giving the building a glare.

"As much as I don' like it, I still appreciate it. They keep our money locked up so tight in those caves that there hasn't been a person who stole a single knut from the goblins. I'll take that cart ride over having me money stolen." Harry nodded in agreement.

"Where are we going next?" Harry asked, the terrifying journey already forgotten in his excitement.

"Well, now we have to go get yer things fer school. Whatd'd ye want to get first? Yeh need books, robes, potion ingredients, yer wand, so-"

"Could we get the wand first? Please Hagrid."

"I s'ppose we could. Usually yeh get that last but it doesn't really matter. Off to Ollivander then." Harry set off with the giant quivering in excitement. He had dreamed of this moment for years. Soon he would have his magic wand and then everything could be fixed. His eyes would be healed and he would no longer wallow in a darkness.

The shop glowed like a beacon, illuminating the surrounding buildings with its blinding luminescence. As they entered the store Harry was greeted by the sight of rows upon rows of slim boxes stacked next to each other, lining the store walls and stretching far back into its depths. A slim figure detached itself from the shadows of the store and moved swiftly over to greet the customers. His face was far from the faint shadows Harry was accustomed to at the Dursleys. There was a bright sheen on his face clearly illuminating the smallest features on his face. He was by far the oldest man Harry had ever seen. The face was pockmarked by age, and unkempt white hair hovered over his wrinkled forehead. The eyes sunken deep into their sockets shone with an intelligent gleam revealing a quick and powerful intelligence.

"Why, Harry Potter if I'm not mistaken." The man paused as if to let Harry answer, though he doubted that it was really a question. Harry had an eerie feeling that the man knew who he was before he had seen his face. The eyes moved sharply in their sockets, scouring Harry's form with their gaze. Harry heard mumbled words leave his lips that sounded like measurements.

"'ello Ollivander. Came here to pick up Harry's wand." Ollivander's gaze tore itself away from Harry to peer up at the giant.

"Hmmm, oak, 16 inch was it not?"

"That it was." Once again Harry doubted that the old man needed confirmation.

"Clumsy thing that was, sooner smash a teacup than transfigure it. It had power though, real power. Pity they snapped it. I hate that practice, always breaking such magnificent pieces of work." Ollivander shook his head as he started rummaging around on some of the shelves lining the store.

"Potter, Potter, Potter. Born from eleven-inch mahogany and 10-and-a-quarter willow." Ollivander swung his hand haphazardly and rolls of measuring tape leapt from their positions and started wrapping around Harry. "No Ollivander wand is the same, and no wizard will ever receive the same results from another wizard's wand. So, Mr. Potter, what we are doing now is trying to find the wand that will work the best for you and only you. How about this one, beechwood and dragon heartstring? Nine inches, nice and flexible." Harry took the wand in his wand and waited for something to happen. After he a few seconds he began to feel a bit foolish.

"Don't just stand there Mr. Potter, give it a wave." Harry began a sweeping motion but the wand was snatched from his hand almost immediately by the storekeeper. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches and whippy."

Once more the wand had barely moved before it was removed and another was stuck into his grasp. "No that's not it. No, no, not that either. Try ebony and unicorn hair, eight inches." Once more the waving of the wand produced no more results. Instead of getting frustrated the elderly man was becoming more and more excited. Harry however, was beginning to feel a bit nervous. A pit of fear began to grow in his stomach as the pile of wands that were rejected grew beside him.

"That would be interesting..." Ollivander mumbled before handing Harry another wand. "Holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches, nice and supple."

As soon as his finger twisted around the grain of the wand Harry became aware of a deviation from the previous attempts. A tightness in his chest he was never aware of previously loosened, and a wave of warmth rocketed through his body. He became aware of it pooling behind his eyes and the ever present ache slowly receded into the background. As he moved his hand a wave of glowing red and gold sparks streamed from the tip of his wand illuminating the room. The pool of warmth behind his eyes was growing larger and larger, with its temperature mirroring its size. Suddenly, it crashed through his mental barriers like an eruption. Every obstacle he placed in the way was anticipated before he had fully created it. The attack burrowed deeper and deeper into his head before suddenly sharpening into a slim lance of power and slamming into the shields of Harry's scar. With a start he realized that his scar was the target of the attack.

The warmth entering his body had not stooped in its flood. The once comfortable, relaxing heat had turned into a roiling inferno burning up his insides. The current flowed into his body and traveled up into his head and into his scar. Whatever sentience occupied the mark refused to surrender. It fought back with bursts of icy power, driving off the encroaching energy. A slim band of intelligence broke off from the scar, flowing through its enemies like oil. It coiled through his body before entering his hand and pressing against the wand it was holding.

Despite the battle raging inside of him, Harry could feel the link form between his scar and the wand. Somehow there was a degree of familiarity between the two. He was still only halfway through his wave and Hagrid and Ollivander remained unaware of the conflict beside them. The scar pulsated with newfound power, and retaliated towards the heat. Waves of power crashed against each other, each one sending daggers of pain through Harry's head.

The trail of sparks grew larger and larger before morphing into a stream of scalding flames that rocketed out for twenty feet in front of Harry. His scar burst and a stream of blood poured down his forehead. His eyes were in agony, as more and more blistering heat grew behind them. Liquid pooled in his eyes and poured down his cheeks. Harry wasn't sure if they were tears or blood, or perhaps a mixture of both.

The conflict reached its zenith and both sides pushed against each other with all of their capacity. It felt like a bomb went off in his head, and Harry leaned back and let out a scream. His wand bucked and released a glowing beam of ruby that splashed against the roof of the store. The ceiling detonated and the trio were thrown off their feet as debris rained down.

Harry lay on the cool wood floor and watched as glowing bits of wreckage floating down to the floor. Having spent all of their effort, the two sides in his head quieted as he slipped into unconsciousness. Harry smiled in relief as he drifted off under the dancing orange glow of burning rubble. 'I'm a wizard.'