A/N: This chapter has been edited by my amazing beta reader who can be found on AO3 under the username Endless_Dream. They're also writing a fic of their own. It's called Divided Loyalties. Make sure to check it out, if you like to read fanfiction about the Fantastic Beasts movies. It's definitely worth the while!

Chapter 1

The doorbell rang while Harry was frying another batch of bacon and eggs for Dudley, who had yet to reach his fill for that morning.

"Give me that," Aunt Petunia said, as she grabbed the pan out of Harry's hands, "and go answer the door."

Aunt Petunia had been in a bit of a mood ever since Dudley had tripped over and broken an expensive, porcelain vase that Yvonne Wright, one of her friends, had bought as a souvenir while holidaying in Majorca last summer. Dudley had accused Harry, who had happened to be in the vicinity at the time, of tripping him on purpose. As usual, neither Aunt Petunia nor Uncle Vernon had believed Harry. The incident had cost him a whole week locked inside his cupboard. To say the least, Harry had no desire to arise his aunt's ire again, so he quietly made his way towards the front door without any complaints.

Halfway down the hall, Harry was forced to quicken his steps in response to the doorbell's second ring. He flung the door open. Outside, a stern looking woman jumped in surprise, while Harry, after a good look at her, gaped.

The woman was wearing peculiar, emerald robes embroidered with intricate, hand-stitched, black and gold patterns, and a pointed hat, the kind someone would see during Hallowe'en. For a moment, Harry wondered if the woman was trying to sell costumes, but that thought vanished when she introduced herself to him.

"Hello, Mr Potter," she said, after glancing quickly at his forehead. "I'm Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of the Transfiguration Department at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'd like a word with your guardians. May I come in?"

At the words Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry stiffened, left hand tightening around the door's handle, and thoughts started swirling.

Was she speaking of magic? No, this had to be a prank Dudley was pulling on Harry to get him in trouble, and yet Professor McGonagall did not appear to be the type who would busy herself with foolish errands, such as playing jokes on others. Maybe she's a paid actress, a voice whispered, there was no such thing as magic after all.

"Mr Potter."

Harry startled. It seemed Professor McGonagall did not take lightly to being ignored, and she sent Harry a look that could bring even Uncle Vernon to tears. She waited a few seconds before continuing, as if to assure she had Harry's full attention.

"It's rather impolite to disregard someone who is speaking at you, don't you think?"

"Sorry," Harry apologised, and immediately added what he should have said from the beginning, "but you must be mistaken – er – Professor. I'll be joining Stonewall High in September, and I've never even heard of Hogwarts before."

This seemed to shock Professor McGonagall. "Never heard of – what do you mean, you've never heard of Hogwarts?"

"Er – sorry," apologised Harry again, taken aback by the startled shout. "But I really don't k –"

"What's taking so long?"

Harry flinched. He had forgotten about Aunt Petunia, and by the time Harry turned around, his aunt had already noticed Professor McGonagall. She stood frozen in place, mouth ajar, her face as white as the walls around her.

His aunt seemed to know who Professor McGonagall was because she stumbled back, trembling from head to toe. Professor McGonagall, in a voice cold enough to freeze the sun, asked: "Mrs Dursley, do, please, explain why James and Lily's son has no idea what Hogwarts is?"

Harry turned to face Professor McGonagall again. A knot formed in his stomach as he realized she knew his parents, and from her tone of voice, Harry began to think that maybe his parents had not been some worthless drunks who had perished in a car accident after all. Harry recalled every single unexplained incident that had happened around him. Could it be... Did that mean... Maybe Professor McGonagall could explain it to him.

"I turned my teacher's wig blue once," he said to her, ignoring Aunt Petunia's protests, "and another time I transported to the roof of my school's kitchen and, and..."

"Do breathe, Mr Potter," McGonagall said, and Harry stopped to take a huge gulp of air. "We can focus on your bouts of accidental magic at a different time. I'm afraid we've much more serious matters to discuss. Speaking of which, let's move this conversation inside. I've been out here for too long, and I'd like a cup of tea, thank you, Mrs Dursley."

Judging by Aunt Petunia's face, Harry was sure his aunt would rather send Professor McGonagall back from where she had come from, but to his surprise she muttered a quick, "This way," turned around, and made a beeline for the kitchen. She probably was worried about what the neighbours would say, Harry concluded, as he peered at Professor McGonagall's robes again.

"Well, let's not just stand here and have the muggles grow suspicious."

Harry followed Professor McGonagall inside the house, and asked, "What exactly is a muggle, Professor? Or accidental magic?" Harry heard the door closing behind him, and let out a relieved huff that Uncle Vernon had already left for work. He had an inkling this day would have gone much, much worse otherwise.

Moments later, Harry found himself sitting across from Professor McGonagall as he patiently waited for her to prove that magic was real. Harry had concluded earlier that he could do magic, but ten years under the Dursleys' roof could shake even the strongest believer. His doubts as to whether Professor McGonagall had been telling the truth, however, were easily dismissed when she transformed herself into a cat. An actual cat.

"Could I turn into a cat too?" he asked, leaning forward in excitement.

Professor McGonagall turned back into a human, smiled briefly, and said, "Maybe when you're a bit older, Mr Potter. It's quite a difficult endeavour for one to become an animagus, and you've yet to learn the basics."

After that, she told Harry the truth behind his parents' death. How a wizard named Voldemort – what a strange name Harry had thought – had murdered them ten years ago. He was shocked to the core, but also furious when it was revealed that Aunt Petunia had known everything.

It was then that Professor McGonagall made her displeasure with the Dursleys known. "I told Albus you were the worst muggles I'd ever encountered, and it pains me to see things haven't changed." Her eyes travelled back and forth from Harry to Dudley, and he knew what she noted. It was easy to realize that he and his cousin were treated differently at his relatives' home.

Well, it was for someone not as stupid as Dudley, Harry thought, when Dudley saw fit to throw one of his temper tantrums right in front of someone like Professor McGonagall.

"But m-m-mum," Dudley fake-sobbed, when Aunt Petunia refused to serve him more breakfast. "I'm still… still hu-hungry. Make her… make her l-l-leave."

For the first time ever, Aunt Petunia was forced to reprimand her Dinky Duddydums into silence. Dudley, however, did not put a stop to his whining until Professor McGonagall, with a wave of her wand, sealed his lips shut.

She completely ignored Aunt Petunia's shrieks of alarm, and handed Harry a letter. It informed Harry of his admittance to Hogwarts. Various questions formed inside his head, but Harry ended up only asking, "An owl? Do wizards really use owls, Professor?"

"Indeed, they do, Mr Potter. Magical owls have a great sense of direction, the kind a wizard would dream of recreating, and are therefore used for mailing purposes. They also make quite good pets. Hogwarts possesses an owlery for the staff and the students. If you would like your own owl, we could stop by Eeylops Owl Emporium."

Shortly afterwards, Professor McGonagall revealed that Harry had survived the same curse that had killed his parents. A stunned Harry stuttered, "B-b-but I don't even know – er – how did I survive?"

"That's a question we all would like to know, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said, after placing her empty cup of tea on the table. "Nobody knows, nobody except the Headmaster." She must have caught Harry opening his mouth because she quickly added, "Albus would welcome any questions you might have, Mr Potter."

Harry touched his forehead right above his scar. "You were looking at my scar when we met, weren't you, Professor?"

"Yes. All wizards and witches know about that scar of yours. It's the result of the attack on your person by You-Know-Who."

Harry removed his hand from his forehead and sighed. He had a funny feeling that the scar would soon be the least favourite feature of his body.

"Normally," Professor McGonagall said, changing the subject, "your acceptance letters would've been owled to you, seeing as you were expected to know about your history, Mr Potter. Due to some unforeseen circumstances, however, it was decided that your reintroduction to the Magical World would be under the guidance of one of the staff members."

"Unforeseen circumstances," repeated Harry. Professor McGonagall had ceased talking, probably because she had recalled why Harry had known nothing about his magic, and sent once again a frosty glare towards his aunt.

"You-Know-Who is back."

The kitchen fell into silence. Even Dudley, who had been making muffled noises behind his sealed lips, became stiff as a statue. A shaky "What?" left Harry's lips, and at the same time Aunt Petunia barked, "Back? What's that supposed to mean? The letter said he had vanished the night she was killed." Aunt Petunia stopped, took her arms off of Dudley, straightened up, brushed invisible dust from her peach-coloured dress, took a deep breath to compose herself, and finally in a pompous voice demanded, "Explain yourself."

On a closer look, Harry noticed that Aunt Petunia was trembling. She had probably reached the same conclusion as him. Voldemort would come once more after Harry to finish what he had started, and they were all in grave danger. He too focused on Professor McGonagall when the latter started to speak.

"Last term, Hogwarts was guarding a valuable, magical item known as the Philosopher's Stone. Various members of the staff were involved in its protection, including myself. Unfortunately, one of them was possessed by You-Know-Who last summer, and managed to steal the stone before we could stop him." Professor McGonagall stopped, took a breath, and continued, "The Stone has great powers. It can be used to produce the Elixir of Life which earns the user the ability to prolong his lifespan, or to regain a corporal form in You-Know-Who's case."

"Why wasn't the stone hidden in a safer place?"

"I assure you, Mrs Dursley, that there is no safer place than Hogwarts in the whole country."

Aunt Petunia snorted, "Yet, you failed." She glanced at Harry, but soon returned her attention to Professor McGonagall. "You can tell your headmaster that the boy has overstayed his lodging. I've my son to think about. I cannot put his life or that of my husband at risk for a boy I never wanted to raise in the first place."

Professor McGonagall maintained eye contact with Aunt Petunia, and merely said, "Albus told me you'd say that." At the mention of the name, Aunt Petunia lost all of her fake composure and sank back into the chair next to Dudley; unperturbed, the Professor continued, "He also said to remind you to remember your last."

Aunt Petunia could not grow any paler. Dudley looked at his mother in confusion, but unable to speak he just sent Harry a nasty look.

"What does that even mean?" Harry asked, looking at his aunt.

" The b – I mean, he can stay," whispered Aunt Petunia, not bothering to explain any further. "What now?"

Harry wanted more answers, but had no opportunity to question his aunt. Professor McGonagall was talking again, "For reasons unknown to us, You-Know-Who is keeping a low profile, so there is no imminent danger towards your family, Mrs Dursley. Not to mention, as Albus might have explained, as long as Harry lives here you are safe from any threat. This protection will, of course, end when Mr Potter reaches maturity, but that's years away. When the time comes, we will make sure your family is safe."

"Escorting Harry to his trip to Diagon Alley is just a precarious measure. We don't expect an attack, but his safety is our priority. At first, we thought of sending out a group of aurors, but we believed it would attract too much attention. Filius, the Charm's Professor at Hogwarts, suggested that one of the staff could escort Harry together with a muggleborn student. Any question so far?"

Only a million, Harry wanted to say, but he ended asking, "What's a muggle-born?"

"A muggle-born is a wizard or a witch born to non-magical parents, Mr Potter."

"So this person you're talking about, Professor, is he like me – I mean did he also not know of his magic because you said he had non-magical parents, and that means they couldn't have known, right?"

"Yes, indeed, Mr Potter," said Professor McGonagall, "and as such each one of them needs guidance when introduced to our world. Colin Creevey, the boy we're meeting later, also had no idea he was a wizard until this morning. He, like you, was rather – em – excited."

"And his family had no problem with me joining them?"

"No," said Professor McGonagall. "They offered before I made my request. In fact, Mr Creevey is quite excited to meet you. Said he'd never talked to anyone who could understand him."

"That'd be nice," Harry said. "Yeah, a friend would be nice."

Harry had one more pressing question. "How am I going to pay for everything, Professor?" He flushed, and refused to turn towards Aunt Petunia, who at the mention of money snorted once again. "I've no money."

"Money will be no problem for you, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said, ignoring his aunt's pointed stare. "Now, I'm assuming you accept our offer to become one of our students, Mr Potter."

"I'd rather not have my head stuffed down a toilet, Professor, so, yes please."

"Brace yourself, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said, when Stan Shunpike signalled Ern, the driver of the Knight Bus, to go.

There was an enormous bang, and Harry was sure he would have toppled flat on his bed if Professor McGonagall had not applied a Sticking Charm on him. Sitting across from him, she was frowning at the front heading of what Harry assumed was the magical newspaper. He had caught a brief look at it, when Stan had passed the paper over to Professor McGonagall, but had not been able to read the whole thing.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, demoted from...

Whatever position Dumbledore had lost, it must have been important because Professor McGonagall grew angrier the longer she read. Finally, she must have reached her limit because she closed the paper abruptly, tossed it to Stan, and turned to face Harry. "Would you like some hot chocolate, Mr Potter?"

"No, thank you, Professor McGonagall. I don't think I could stomach anything right now."

Stan reopened the newspaper and Harry finally caught the entire headline.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, demoted from his position as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

"What's Wizengamot?" he asked.

"Brainless sheep," answered Professor McGonagall, "who spend their time lolling around, and don't see the wolf coming until it's too late."

"Are you calling Dumbledore a sheep, Professor," Stan said, in a strong Cockney accent.

"I thought you were able to read, Shunpike," hit back Professor McGonagall, pointing at the newspaper. "Cannot be a sheep if you get demoted."

"Why was the Headmaster demoted, Professor?"

"Because he spoke the truth, Mr Potter," said Professor McGonagall, before Stan could have a say in. "Now, I believe we'll be there in a jiffy, right, Shunpike?"

Half a minute later, the Knight Bus halted right in front of a small, dingy pub.

"The Leaky Cauldron," Stan said.