Chapter 4 - The First Overture


The goal is to go from where you are to where you want to be. Courage forms the backbone of this venture. Not losing your will to go on after successive failures is courage. Not fearing failures is courage. Admitting that you need to change and act differently is courage. You will not achieve your lofty ambitions by being who you are. You need to become the person capable of achieving those lofty ambitions. That needs courage. Let courage in and you will succeed.

You will always find a way to survive non-fatal scenarios. Only the means would vary – Fight or flight. I was the model gryffindor. I chose courage and fought my fear. He was the dark lord. He let fear rule him and fought everything.


It was the morning of 26th of July, and Harry was meditating, or rather, was failing at meditating. He didn't know what the problem was. No matter how hard he tried, the damn thoughts wouldn't stop. The book went along the line of "clearing his mind", but rather inconveniently forgot to mention just how to do that.

'It is harder to do nothing than to do something.'

Yes, it was a lot harder. The main issue was that he didn't know how not to think. If he tried to ignore one thought another popped up, ignoring which would result in another, then another, and then he started thinking about how to stop thinking. It was infuriating. He usually gave up after a while.

His gaze turned to the white owl sleeping on the top of a chair, and his annoyance vanished. He was surprised, and in equal amount, apprehensive when it came flying last night with a letter clutched in its claws. But he jumped for joy when he saw that the letter was different from what he had sent. It was written on a parchment in a tidy scrawl and was from Professor McGonagall. He did a little dance after reading it and then realized that the owl was still sitting on the windowsill. He guessed that he indeed had something to do with the owl's appearance that morning. When asked whether it wanted to stay with him, it hooted and promptly flew out of the window. Harry somehow knew it was going to come back.

He looked around his room trying to find something to do. He had already gone through Dudley's broken toys and estranged books. There was nothing interesting there. There were a few comics scattering the shelf, which were good, but he had already read them twice over. There were a few crayons lying on the table on the top of a notebook on which was drawn a strange creature the size of a baby with blue colored skin, dressed like it was going to an award ceremony but was incongruously wearing a cowboy hat. Yes, boredom had caused him to pick up drawing too.

Great. I can't do nothing, and I can't think of anything to do too. He turned to the book lying on his bed for the umptieth time.

An hour or so later, his attention was drawn to the sound of the doorbell ringing. Sounds of someone heavy running came from downstairs, which could only be Dudley, excited to meet junior bullies Piers and Malcolm, who came daily around this time. He was surprised when he didn't hear a shout of 'Big D!'. Instead, he heard Dudley shouting, "MOM! MOOOOM!"

Harry rushed out of his room and reached the top of the stairs. A woman, no, a witch was standing at the door. Everything about her screamed witch. Petunia had rushed to Dudley's side and was gaping at the witch.

"That was not the reception I was expecting," the witch stared sternly at Dudley, a look Harry recognized easily having been on the receiving end of it his whole life. "Though, I guess I did not expect much."

Turning to Aunt Petunia, she said, "You must be Petunia. I am Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was looking forward to meeting you."

Aunt Petunia's eyebrows widened. Harry could feel her struggling to think of anything to say to that.

"Can you call Mr. Potter? We have some important business to discuss about Hogwarts. I am sure you know all about it." She paused for a second and added, "May I come in? I am not sure this is the proper place to have this conversation."

Realizing that they were standing in the doorway, and anyone walking across the street can see them, she invited her in, and shouted, "Boy! Someone from your school has come to meet you." She turned her hostile face to see Harry already standing at the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said skipping two steps at a time. He smiled at the professor. "Hello, Deputy Headmistress! I was waiting to meet you. I have so many questions about Hogwarts!"

Professor McGonagall stiffened as he approached her, looking him over.

"Would you like anything to drink? Or to eat?" he asked after a few moments. He wanted to make a good impression on the deputy headmistress of his new school.

"No, thank you, Mr. Potter." She crinkled her nose as she looked at him. "Shall we go to the living room. This shouldn't take much time," she said inviting herself to the living room.

Harry followed her and sat on the chair opposite to her. "Isn't your aunt going to join us?" the professor asked him looking at his aunt and cousin who were still staring at them from the hall.

"They try to stay away from anything magical."

The professor gave him a searching look and then straightened. "Mrs. Dursley, could you please join us? This discussion involves you too since you are Mr. Potter's guardian."

There was a touch of steel in the professor's voice that made it hard to refuse her. Aunt Petunia wobbled to sit on the sofa, motioning to Dudley to go to his room, which he did eagerly, for the first time if Harry's memory served right.

"Well Mr. Potter, now that we are properly seated, we need to arrange your admission to Hogwarts. You indicated in your letter that you are already aware of magic and the magical world. I assume your aunt told you about it?" She had framed it as a question compelling Harry to comment on it.

"Um, no I just came to know about magic last month. Ha-ha, you know, last month... Ow" A sharp pain had erupted in his throat. His eyes widened. The contract!

He coughed. "I am sorry. I need a glass of water." He avoided the professor's eyes, got up and rushed to the kitchen.

How could I be so stupid? Think Harry, think. Who told me about magic?

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" came the professor's voice laced with alarm.

"Sorry. Something must have caught in my throat. I am alright," replied Harry. His mind raced as he filled a glass with water.

I can't mention the poltergeist or the ministry. But Aunt Petunia knows! Think! How can I get out of this?

He coughed again and took another sip of water.

"Is there any problem?"

"No! I was just bringing a glass of water for you too."

Think of something! She had just declined an offer for a drink. Dammit!

"There's no need for that, Mr. Potter. I didn't have to walk much to come here." Think something else!

Who could have told Harry Potter that he was a wizard?! Harry felt like hitting his head. Anyone could have told Harry Potter.

"Ok. Aunt Petunia! Do you need some water?"

I remember a weird man in a pointed hat bowing to me once.

"No!" came her shrill voice.

And Aunt Petunia was there too. I hope she remembers the ministry's warnings.

Harry hurried back to the living room, not wanting to test their patience anymore.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Professor," Harry said sitting down.

"Understandable, Mr. Potter," she said inspecting him. She added after a few moments, "You were telling how you came to know about our world."

Dammit. "Haha, it's a funny story. Do you remember, Aunt Petunia, we were shopping once and a short man in a hat same as the professor's bowed to us," Harry said to his aunt scratching his ring. He felt very weird talking to her in such a familiar way.

Aunt Petunia looked like she had just swallowed a sour lemon.

"Enough, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall peered down at him with narrowed eyes. "There's no need to be embarrassed. You don't get blamed for accidental magic. Although it is rare for the ministry to have to intervene, as the name suggests, it was completely accidental."

What? "Oh, ok. Sorry."

Professor McGonagall motioned with her hands. "Go on, Mr. Potter. What did the ministry people tell you?" Oh! So much for making a good impression. Dammit, he must look like Dudley right now.

"They told me about magic and the wizarding world. They also told me about my parents, about You-Know-Who, about Harry Potter, umm, me, and how I defeated him and got this scar, and also a little of Hogwarts."

The professor nodded. "Good. Since you are already aware of the essentials, I will skip them." She turned to Aunt Petunia. "My question to you, Mrs. Dursley, is why you withheld this information from him? I am sure Dumbledore explained it to you in the letter," she asked Aunt Petunia, her voice hard.

His Aunt gulped, and answered awkwardly, "We wanted him to lead a normal life… well, as normal as he could have, without spoiling my Dudley. My sister also didn't know about magic till she was 10, so I am sure it isn't a problem."

The Professor scoffed, "Well, of course, it isn't a problem. Otherwise, we would have sent someone to ensure that he knew about his heritage. I wanted to listen to your reasoning Mrs. Dursley and to be frank, I am disappointed. Your sister too was a witch. I would have hoped that you didn't see him any different than your son."

Aunt Petunia was about to reply, but the professor's gaze snubbed her in favor of him. "Mr. Potter, you need to have a basic understanding of the wizarding world before attending Hogwarts. I am not going to explain everything to you considering that it will take quite a while. Instead, I'll give you a Wizarding World Integration set that we give to muggleborns that explains everything you need to know." She put her hands in one of her pockets and took out a miniature set of thin books bundled together. She tapped them with a wand that had suddenly appeared in her right hand, and the books enlarged to their proper size.

"Wow," Harry breathed out at the same time as his aunt made a strangled noise.

"You are expected to read them thoroughly before you attend Hogwarts. However, I will answer any question that you have while we are shopping for your school books and equipment."

Harry nodded heartily eager to know more about the wizarding world and understand it better, and took the set from her, and examined them to find any other magical features.

"We should also talk about your expenses for Hogwarts – everything including your supplies, wand, and books approximately amounts to 170 Galleons, which will be about 850 Pounds. We should add some cushion here in case we need to buy something else."

"Umm, Professor… I don't know how to get the money that my parents left for me. Do you know how I can use it?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, I have brought your vault key. But I am sure, you Aunt and Uncle would happily pay for your education. You are their nephew, and it will also save us some time."

Harry had to force himself not to laugh. This was going to be interesting. His Aunt's face was already showing her disgust.

"We won't pay for him learning… this! We need to save for Dudley's education and his future. Besides, he can use the money left by his parents."

The professor pursed her lips, her face showing disapproval. "That won't be a problem," she said in a low voice. "Mr. Potter, I can see that you might not be aware of the etiquette and conduct a reputable institute like Hogwarts expects. We don't accept any kind of oppressive or cruel behavior towards others."

His aunt's already skinny face seemed to become gaunter.

"We also expect you to dress appropriately. I am not an expert in muggle clothing, but I can surmise that your clothes would be inappropriate anywhere in the world. Do you have any other presentable clothes?"

Harry fidgeted as he shook his head. This was one strict teacher.

The professor sighed, "You are not the one that should be embarrassed, Mr. Potter. It is not your fault." She said in a soft voice and narrowed her eyes at his Aunt. "It is the responsibility of a guardian to care for their children and give them a proper upbringing. It is evident that this was not the case here. I will report this to Professor Dumbledore, and to the Ministry of Magic if required."

Aunt Petunia gulped and seemed to be having an internal struggle. "We did all we could. We took him in, fed him, gave him a roof to live under. And you… you…" She exclaimed, finally affronted. "How dare you?! How dare you throw such accusations at us? No one from your world helped him, did they? Ungrateful freaks! Go and take him with you. We don't want him here. He has always been a burden, a curse, an abnormality you sent to ruin our normal lives!" She was screeching by the end of it.

Harry's eyes widened as her words rung in his ears. He expected this from his uncle, who had a habit of shouting and cursing him, but this was the first time he had seen his aunt being so vocal, especially in front of others. What must Professor McGonagall think… He tried not to think of how it made him look.

Professor McGonagall stomped her foot on the ground. "Never in my life…" she squinted her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands. Suddenly, her wand appeared in her hand. She flicked it and a red envelope, a parchment, and a quill appeared, floating in the air.

"Never would I have thought that we would be leaving Lily and James' son with such… such detestable muggles," her voice carried her indignation and vehemence, which the quill was managing to transcribe by varying its scrawl. "They have no shame! I told you. I told you back then that they were the worst sort of muggles you can find, but I didn't know they would treat Harry so horribly. You are Lily's sister!" the professor sniffed. "Oh, I am mortified that her son is living with such monsters. Who would do this to a child? It will be a cold day in hell before I allow Harry to be treated like this by these muggles! Lily must be so angry at us." Another sniff. "They dress him in old filthy rags like a house elf. And he is so thin, Albus! They call him a freak, an abnormal child, a curse to his face. That too in front of me! And, I haven't even been 20 minutes here. Worst of all, they are proud of what they are doing! Who knows what else these disgusting creatures must have done?" His aunt looked shocked at her reaction and was gaping at the scene. "I am taking Harry to buy him his Hogwarts supplies. You better have a good reason for Harry to stay here after this! I would be waiting for your answer."

With that, the parchment folded itself, and the envelope enveloped it. Without looking at his aunt, the professor waved her wand towards the kitchen, and a glass came floating near them, which soon changed itself… no transfigured to an owl. The 'owl' picked up the red envelope and flew out of the kitchen window.

His aunt was shaking. "What did you –"

The professor turned to face his Aunt. "Stop – I don't want to listen to your voice again!"

She then flicked her wand in his direction. Harry jumped. His clothes shrank and started changing to fit into Harry's figure. "Come on, Harry. We'll discuss the rest away from here. Where's your bedroom?"

Harry automatically pointed to it upstairs. The books she gave Harry were snatched from his grasp, flew to his bedroom's direction, moved past the door, and the door was closed shut.


Professor McGonagall was walking briskly a few streets away from his house. Harry's feet worked on their own as he followed the professor, while his mind replayed the past few minutes over and over. He had always been stepped upon, smacked down verbally like he was some rodent, but it had never happened in front of a stranger. He didn't know how to act now with said stranger. He always knew that what they did to him was unfair and wrong, but there was never anyone present to validate those opinions. Walking in front of him was a stranger feeling as offended as he thought one should be by how he was treated.

"Mr. Potter, would you please wait here a few moments? I am afraid I must retrieve something from my house."

She disappeared in a blur and a pop by the time Harry began to nod. Woah! Was that apparition? Even in this muddled state, Harry had no trouble appreciating the splendor of magic. He recalled how a few years back he had done the same thing accidentally.

There was another pop and the professor materialized at the same spot.

"I am sorry you had to witness that, Mr. Potter. I couldn't stand your aunt. I also apologize if it offended you."

"What? It didn't offend me! I actually wanted to apologize to you for my Aunt's behavior. They have never liked me or anyone who wanted to talk with me," Harry said not meeting her eyes.

"Mr. Potter, I repeat again, your relatives are one of the most despicable human beings I have ever met. You are in no way to blame for what they have done to you, or anyone else for that matter. Do you understand?"

On Harry's nod, she handed him a vial of grey liquid. "Drink this, Mr. Potter. It will calm your emotions."

Harry cautiously took a sip of the potion. It was sour, but not too much. As he gulped the liquid, he felt a prickling sensation pass through his stomach to his head. He felt a slight vibration in his forehead… it felt good. He chucked the rest of the drink down. He could actually feel his mind clearing like a wind was blowing the dark clouds away. His head felt more open like he wasn't now confined in a small space. An urge to laugh bubbled up in him.

"Woah, this is great! I mean the taste sucks, but this is gooood," Harry said as he felt his head as if it had expanded.

"I am glad this worked for you – this potion doesn't work for everyone," the professor said as she smiled at him.

"Thank God! What is this potion called, professor? I will definitely learn to make it. Does everyone at Hogwarts drink this? I mean those for whom this works. Oh, I can't wait to go to Hogwarts!"

The professor shook her head. "No, Mr. Potter. You are not allowed to take any potion you make at Hogwarts without supervision. It can be extremely dangerous. Also, potions are never taken regularly, as they are quite addicting, and believe me, you don't want to become addicted to one of these. A year stay at Mungo's, the magical hospital, would be the least of your worries."

Harry was silent as he processed it as she led him to a crossing and raised her wand. Harry, who was expecting to see some brilliant magic spell, was disappointed when nothing happened.

"I have one final question about your relatives, Mr. Potter. Did they ever hit you before? Tell me the truth. I will know if you don't."

"No… Umm, sometimes. Sometimes when I burn the food, Aunt Petunia would hit me with a pan… not constantly, just once or twice… And my Uncle would smack me on the head when I'd do something weird. But I dodge mostly – I am too fast for them." He smirked then. "Now though, after I found out about magic, they are afraid of me. They leave me alone most of the time. And I would be at Hogwarts 10 months every year! So, it isn't so bad."

Harry could tell that she was relieved by the answer. He always wanted to have someone who worried about him, but now it was also making him feel bad in a sense as if he was being selfish.

BANG! There was a flash of light. Harry jumped back and rubbed his eyes.

Professor McGonagall had a pleased smile on her face as he gaped at the large purple bus that had appeared in front of him. 'The Knight Bus' was written on its side in large golden letters. A tall skinny boy, much like him, but a few years older than him, appeared on the front door leaning to one side.

"Name's Stan! Welcom' to the Knight Bus. Come abor'," he paused at seeing the professor. "Oh, It's you Professur! What did ye call this bus fur?" he asked with what Harry thought was a touch of annoyance in his tone.

"Hello, Mr. Shunpike. I am on Hogwarts duty - had to take Mr. Thomas to buy his Hogwarts supplies. I see that you are working here now." The professor raised her eyebrows. "I thought you'd be staying away from anything muggle after… the last incident."

"Well, I'm stayin' away, aren't I? They can't notice nothin' e'en if it's in front of their eyes. Well, ye better come in quick if ye want me to stay away from them," he replied contemptuously.

The professor sighed and nudged Harry to climb the bus. The interior of the bus wasn't anything like Harry imagined it would be. There were no seats within. Beds were scattered all over the floor, which seemed to be made of wood. The inside was illuminated by numerous candles, which were burning on wooden supports besides each bed. A spiral staircase was present behind the driver's… armchair, which seemed to be reaching the upper floors. In the rear end, two children were playing some card game, while a woman was lying on the bed near them.

"Stan, that wasn't a proper greeting again! We have to look professional to our customers," the elderly driver said peering over them from the top of his glasses.

"Ar, sorry Ern. Forgot again," Stan said scratching his head.

"Well, ask them where they want to go. It isn't polite. We don't have many customers this morning as it is."

"Right! Ye 'eard 'im," Stan said impolitely.

"Take us to The Leaky Cauldron, please. How much would it be?"

"Eleven Sickles," said Stan, "but for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice."

The professor picked some coins from a pouch and shoved it into the conductor's hands. There was a small explosion in the back followed by laughs by the children.

"Come on. Let's go to the upper floor. Hopefully, it'd be more pleasant."

On the first floor, two men in dark shabby clothes, with their face hidden in cowls, were speaking with each other in hushed tones. They stopped on noticing them. The professor pushed him to the second floor and released her breath on seeing that it was empty.

"This will do," she said to Stan, who had followed them.

"O'course. Pull this strin' if ye need anythin'," he said gruffly and left.

"We should get seated quickly." Harry followed her to the first bed on the right, amazed at what was happening.

He soon understood her rush when there was another BANG, and Harry had to grip the bed-stand tightly to remain seated. Looking out of the window, he saw that they were now careening now on a completely different street. They were moving very speedily, regardless of the traffic. They were somehow escaping all crashes, and things in their way were moving apart automatically.

"What is this bus?" he croaked out to the professor.

The professor laughed, though she was not looking too well herself. "This is the emergency transport bus for wizards. But mostly just squibs or underage wizards use it, as there are other more comfortable means to get around usually. I could have apparated you myself, but I wanted you to experience this –" she stopped and gripped the bed-stand as the bus came to a halt.

Harry could feel the rear portion of bus lift in the air from the change in inertia. He seriously hoped they would not flip over.

"You wanted me to experience this! Oh, you wanted me to make my first journey into the magical world in such discomfort? And how is the bus not crashing with anything? This thing seems to be moving at the speed of a jet plane!" Truth be told, he was having fun.

"Oh no, Mr. Potter! That wasn't my reason for traveling by the Knight Bus. You are currently underage, so this is the most suitable means of travel for you. As for not crashing, you will find that magic can do most of the things you can imagine," she said with a twist of her lips.

"Wow! And muggles don't notice this? How long do you have to study to cast such spells?" Harry asked.

"Hogwarts' education is quite exhaustive Mr. Potter. Seven years in Hogwarts, and you will be taught almost everything to be able to cast any type of spell. But, not everyone can cast such spells. Most witches and wizards are only able to cast basic spells. They mostly become proficient in the area they have an interest in. I have learned that muggleborns -" she stopped again as the bus burst into speed again.

Bringing a handkerchief to her mouth, she said, "Let's talk once we reach The Leaky Cauldron. This blasted bus is making me nauseous."

Harry wondered whether there was any way for magic to cure her nausea. The bus stopped two more times before Stan appeared again to call them down.


Harry was gaping again. Standing in front of them were two monsters… creatures… something, that were guarding huge polished doors to a massive white edifice that stretched the width of Diagon Alley. They looked like the monsters from Dudley's computer games, glaring at everyone and ready to attack anyone with their sharp gilded swords at a moment's notice.

Professor McGonagall looked amused at his expression. "They are Goblins. They are intelligent creatures which appear human but are not humans. They are a completely different species. They have their own magic and they live separately from us. Due to their skills in metalsmithing, and their skills with money and finances, they control the wizarding economy to a large extent, minting coins, and regulating taxes and interests on these coins. They are very clever and are untrusting of humans, so I advise you to tread carefully in front of them, and treat them with respect."

Harry stared gobsmacked at her and then at the goblins. One of them happened to look at him at that instant and bared its teeth at him. It looked like it was grinning, but he couldn't tell by the pointy teeth it was showing. He froze. A completely different species. His brain was sounding off many alarms.

"What do they eat?"

The professor laughed. "Not us, Mr. Potter. Just normal human food, with the addition of fungi and roots."

Harry felt a little relieved. He would have accepted any answer by now. He had watched some movies where they were horrible creatures and were always out for human blood. He had never heard of a goblin handling and coining money in any story. He knew that controlling the economy must mean that they are powerful. "I didn't see any goblin in the alley. What is their role in our world? And how powerful are they?"

"Well, like I told you before, they control the wizarding bank, Gringotts to a large extent. Apart from it, you will see very little of them in the wizarding world. As for how powerful, I must warn you, they are almost as powerful as wizards, but you must not treat them as an inferior class. They don't look eye to eye with us, and you will study at Hogwarts about how there have been many wars between us, often for the silliest of reasons, causing huge losses to both sides. They are very skilled warriors and can provide impeccable security. That's why we let them handle our money. One would have to be a fool to try to rob Gringotts. In fact, it has never been robbed. Come – the guards are becoming wary now."

He was feeling like a fool rushing to a battle ill-equipped, but withdrawing his money proved to be relatively straightforward. If you count watching hundreds of Goblins working on counters, and taking his money out of the huge pile of coins - from a vault - after using a cart running on rails - to reach deep within the London underground, as straightforward. He was also pleasantly surprised by how the goblins acted. They didn't shout at them, or threatened them, or pointed their swords at them. They just sneered, and spoke with a lazy drawl, as if they were talking to Dudley.

They were again walking in the alley which captivated Harry still. Children were budging about with their families, witches and wizards were rushing around to complete their tasks. Several stalls lined the side of the streets amid shops, both small and big, selling bizarre stuff, which you'd guess to be present in a weird dungeons and dragons game. Self-cleaning kits, animated chess boards, flutes and musical instruments that played on their own – who'd have thought this stuff was sold in London, hidden from the general populace by magic.

The professor had cast some sort of spell to hide his scar. He was afraid it'd be like this. Wizards far into their old age saw him as some kind of miracle and seemed to worship the grounds he walked on. As soon as they entered the Leaky Cauldron, after repeatedly insisting to Stan that they didn't need the hot chocolate that he had forgotten to give them, they were swarmed by the people present in what turned out to be a dark scruffy pub - the kind you see in movies where shady dealings take place and criminals pass their time. Professor McGonagall had her wand in her hands and had to threaten them thrice before they were willing to leave his side. Overall, it would have been quite overwhelming if Harry hadn't taken that calming potion.

He didn't know how to feel about his scar – on one hand it was a sign that he survived the most powerful dark lord to grace this country, and on the other hand, it was a sign of the night his parents were killed. Never feeling sad about himself was one of his CRUEL rules, so he chose the former.

"Most wizards never interact with the muggle world, so their knowledge of its culture and people is inadequate at best. In fact, many see muggle tools like televisions, airplanes, movie theaters with the same disbelief as muggles see magic. You also might see some of our practices, supplies, and tools as strange. But know that to us they are as normal as eating. You are part of this world now, so you should try to blend in here. As you can see we are attracting attention – we should get you some robes first."

The robe shop – Madam Malkin Robes for All Occasions was just next to Gringotts.

"Mr. Potter, would you be willing to go alone to buy your apparels? I am afraid I am going to need a drink. Riding on Gringotts carts, that too after traveling in the Knight Bus, is making my head spin. Strangely, I feel a drink would be the best cure."

Harry was a bit nervous about meeting another person from the wizarding world, but he nodded.

"Madam Malkin is a very accommodating person - she would get you what you need. Be sure to ask her for basic muggle clothing too. Merlin knows you need them."

Harry entered the robe shop with slight trepidation. Who knew what surprises lie in this store for him. He saw a smiling, chubby woman dressed in all purple sitting on a chair in the back of the shop. A hunky boy stood near her being tended by another witch. There was nothing distinctly magical going around in here. The witch motioned him to come in.

"Hello dear. Hogwarts?" On Harry's nod, she continued. "We get a lot of them this time of the year. Come stand on this stool, and I'll get you your robes in a jiffy."

The bulky boy sneered at Harry as the witch slipped a black robe over his head.

"You a muggleborn?" he asked with narrowed eyes. "Of course, you are! You look like a gnome in the back of my garden," he stated, sneering. "The population of your kind is increasing every year!" He growled showing his large dirty yellow teeth.

Harry didn't need to be a genius to know that he was being insulted for being a muggleborn. He was too used to this behavior to allow this in the magical world too, but the boy looked to be a few years older than him, and he didn't want to do something which he might regret. Like he usually did with Uncle Vernon, he held his tongue.

The boy continued on seeing that Harry was ignoring him. "What? Forgot your tongue with the muggles. Good riddance, I suppose. Wish others of your sort were like you. Now, if only we could do something about the smell." He twisted his face managing to look even uglier.

Harry turned to Madam Malkin. "Professor McGonagall will be coming here in a minute. She said that you can help me get some muggle clothes too. Do you keep them here?"

"Yes dear," Madam Malkin said, "I apologize if this isn't up to your expectations. Sometimes we get faulty material in here. It's out of our hands really."

Harry stopped himself from snickering. "Too bad. I hope this kind of thing doesn't happen very frequently."

"You better watch your back nut-brain – Hogwarts is a big place; the professors wouldn't always watch over you." Dammit, Harry thought… calmly. It looked like the boy's brain hadn't completely deserted him.

Well, this was just great. Not even 10 minutes alone in the wizarding world! Maybe he will step back once he learns his true identity. Anyway, goading him further would only land him in more trouble.

"I hope you are not picking on firsties now, Flint!" A voice interrupted. Harry turned. A dark-haired girl had just entered the shop. She stumbled, and barely stopped herself from falling. "Oops! Damn stool."

The boy's, Flint's, eyes widened at seeing her and he stood a little straight.

"Not at all, Page. I was just answering his questions. He seemed a little anxious about attending Hogwarts."

"Is that right? You answering questions. I am surprised," she laughed as she twirled her hair with her fingers. Turned to him she said. "Say kid – Bull over here doesn't think with his brain most of the time. I am a prefect and I think I can answer your questions better."

Harry nodded but kept his mouth shut. He was thinking that it would be better to learn more about the magical world before opening his mouth.

"If you have any questions on Quidditch though, Marcus would be your best bet. He is the best chaser in slytherin. I wish we were on the same team. You could have taught me those moves," she said dreamily. "Don't you think so too, Marcus?" she said glancing at the boy through her lashes.

He is in slytherin! Where's the intelligence, pragmatism, and cleverness?

"Yes, absolutely. I was just about done here though… Hey Page, I really liked how you played last year. Hard luck on losing that game to Hufflepuff."

Ok. They play a game at Hogwarts. Quidditch?

"Oh, nobody could have beaten Hufflepuff. They have the best team." the girl was looking at the floor now, struggling not to smile.

Hufflepuff has the best team.

"What?" Flint then coughed. "Yeah, they have a good team."

He doesn't think they do.

"Say, what do you say we practice some over weekends at Hogwarts?" He said trying to sound offhanded.

Don't they have a toothbrush in the wizarding world? Or a spell to clean teeth?

"Won't that be weird! A slytherin and a ravenclaw practicing together? I mean I sure want to. Who wouldn't want to practice with you, but my team would think that you intend to spy on us through me."

This boy has to be a damn good chaser. Why can't this girl stand still?

"I'd never do that!"

You would if you were intelligent, pragmatic and clever.

"I know that, but the rest of my house doesn't. What about… yes, that would work. What about you ask me during the opening feast in front of all my house. That way they can see that you are sincere, and don't just want to scout our team. Can you do that for me?" she asked looking into his eyes.

Maybe, you want to spy on them. That would be intelligent, pragmatic and clever.

"In front of everyone! I can't do that."

Ugh, don't look at his teeth.

"Oh, but you can Marcus. Wood did last year, but I rejected him. If those foolish gryffindors can, you can too. Can't you?" she asked holding his hand.

Hmm, if a fool does something that you don't think you should do, can't you too? How does that work?

"… yes, of course. I think I can, Page. But do I have to do that in front of everyone?"

Flint? Wood? Page? What's with these names?

"Think about it. I," she said leaning close to him, "would be saying yes to the best chaser at Hogwarts in front of Wood and the rest of the gryffindors."

The witch helping Flint with his robes interjected, "Looks like you are done, sir. That would be 11 Galleons and 45 Knuts."

Flint looked at Page's chiseled face and brown eyes. "I will do it, Anna. I give you my word."

Head held high, he took the money out of his pouch and gave to the witch. "I will see you at Hogwarts Anna." Turning to him he said, "And don't forget that the professors won't always be there, but I will be."

I will just have to be intelligent, pragmatic and clever.

Anna nodded vigorously, then wiped her hands on her robes as he left the shop.

"Wotcher kid! Hope to see you in Hufflepuff," she said, winking at him. And she too left the shop leaving a bewildered Harry. Wasn't she in Ravenclaw? The wizarding world is weird.


A/N: This chapter was full of dialogues. Hope it wasn't boring :). Guys, the text box below is very useful. If you like something, you can get your voice heard. If you didn't like something, ditto. If you want something, you have to say so first. I feel that you guys are liking my story, but the text box below can validate it. Make some noise, guys!