Harry had always been a sickly child. That's why he never got to go outside and play with the other kids or participate in school field trips or do anything besides sit in his cupboard or watch the world go by through the front window. That's what Aunt Petunia said, but Harry thought his condition just gave the Dursleys an excuse to hide him away.

This trip to Diagon Alley is the first time he's really been outside in public. He was only ever allowed to go to school.

"'lright there Harry."

Harry wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Yeah. I have allergies, I must just be allergic to something here."

His eyes were watering so much he could hardly see but Diagon Alley was magical even as a blur. Maybe even more than if he could see it clearly. All the colors blended together creating swirls and interesting patterns.

It had been worse in Gringotts. There was a constant tickle in his nose and his throat had started to burn like he was getting a cold.

He rather thought the cart ride would have been fun if he hadn't felt so miserable.

Getting his robes tailored was hard. He kept sneezing and the poor saleswoman would have to fix his robes each time. There was also a snooty boy who sneered at him, looking absolutely disgusted each time he sneezed.

"Jus' yer wand left, now," Hagrid said. "Ollivander will get ye sorted."

Ollivander's was old and dusty. The shop had been there since 382 BC and it seemed no one had changed or cleaned it in the 2000 years it'd been open.

Harry thought that that was why he felt like he had been hit by a freight train when he walked through the door. If he had thought Gringotts was bad this was ten times worse.

A headache had sprung up, his throat was scratchy and raw, his nose permanently itchy, and the walls felt like they were closing in as air seemed harder and harder to come by. It was like he was trying to inhale through a straw; putting in lots of effort yet getting hardly any air. His chest was starting to hurt.

He could barely focus on the words around its persistent burn, "Ahh, young Mister Potter. I was wondering when I would see you."

That was weird. Even if he had the wherewithal to answer he wouldn't have known what to say.

"Mahogany, Unicorn hair, 10 ¼ inches." The man thrust the wand at him. "Go on, give it a wave."

Harry gently took the wand and hesitantly swished the wand. The lights in the shop all burst into a thousand pieces. Harry quickly set the wand back on the counter.

His hand felt itchy from where he had held it.

"No, no, no. Not that one." He left the counter and came back with a new one. "Cherry, dragon heartstring, 12 ⅔ inches."

This one caused all of the boxes to slam into their shelves and clouds of dust rained down on them.

"Tricky customer ehh. Not to worry."

They went through dozens of wands, none of them working. And with each wand, the worse his hand felt. It looked like someone had held his hand against the stove. Tiny blisters formed on the reddened skin.

"I wonder…." Ollivander went to the back of the shop and came back with a very dusty old box. "Holly, phoenix feather, 11 inches."

Harry gingerly picked up the wand, trying to limit skin contact as much as possible, and gave it a wave.

Everything in the shop was sent back to rights and Hagrid who had fallen asleep in the chair jerked awake. But Harry felt like a wave of fire had just burned through his veins. His cry of pain drowned out by Hagrids' whooping and clapping. Nobody seemed worried; blearily, Harry wondered if maybe they had heard and had just assumed that he was happy.

"Oh, bravo! Well done," Ollivander said, packing the wand, still mumbling to himself. "Well, well, well…curious, curious...very curious, indeed."

The burn had calmed down enough that Harry managed to ask, "I'm sorry, sir, What's curious?"

"The phoenix who gave the feather in your wand gave just one other. It is curious that the brother to your wand belongs to the man who gave you that scar."

"Right then," Hagrid cut in loudly, "How much fer it?"

Ollivander scowled at him, "Seven galleons." He turned back to Harry and said, "We can expect great things from you, Mister Potter. You-know-who did great things. Terrible. But great."

"C'mon Harry. Can't keep Dumbledore waiting, I got te get back te the castle."

In the time it had taken Harry to get all of his school supplies, the Dursleys had made it back from the hut on the rock to their house.

Hagrid dropped him off at the door and gave him his ticket. "Remember the train leaves September 1st right at 11 O'clock."

Harry stepped off the train with his new friend Ron. He had slept most of the train ride, feeling steadily worse ever since that girl fixed his glasses. Which was nice but rude since she didn't ask permission or anything.

They followed Hagrid down to the shore and got into a boat with two girls.

"Everybody in!" Hagrid shouted. "Alright then, Forward!"

Harry's stomach gave a lurch. Was he seasick? The only time he'd been on a boat was to get to the hut on the rock but he hadn't felt like this then.

"Are you alright Harry? You're looking pretty green."

He tried to say, 'I'll be fine.' but opening his mouth felt like a bad idea so he just carefully nodded.

He spent the boat ride trying to keep his stomach from making an appearance.

Ron caught his arm when he stumbled, and helped him the rest of the way out of the boat.

He leaned on Ron the whole way up to the castle.

They stopped on some steps leading to a great oak door. Hagrid went up and knocked on the door.

The door swung open and as it did Harry felt like someone sucker-punched him. He couldn't breathe. His legs turned to jelly and he was vaguely aware of Ron lowering him to the ground.

"Hagrid! Harry's sick!"

Harry blurrily looked at the big shape looming over him. There was a smaller one, person, a person. And an even smaller one next to him.

"Oh, dear. Hagrid, fetch Severus and Poppy. They should both be at the feast." Someone grabbed his shoulders. "Mr. Potter, can you hear me?"

Harry let out a low moan, his mouth wasn't working and he couldn't get enough air to make words.

He could hear himself wheezing, it was embarrassingly loud in the silence of the group.

His embarrassment was cut short when they could hear the pounding footsteps of multiple people coming their way.

A woman said, "Minerva, what has happened?"

He heard the other woman, Minerva reply, "I had just opened the door to let the first years in when Mr. Potter collapsed."

One of the women leaned over him, "Mr. Potter, we'll get you sorted right quick. We'll go to the hospital wing and you'll be able to join your peers soon."

"Minerva perhaps take the others away," a deep baritone suggested, and then added, "and take Hagrid with you. His pacing is obviously not helping."

Indeed it wasn't.

Hagrid, who had been overcome with anxiety, was jumping from foot to foot like some deranged form of tap-dancing was shaking the entire tunnel. The pitching was rolling Harry's already upset stomach. He was feeling greener by the minute. Disgusting dry-heave retching noises escaping him. He pressed his face into the cool stone and moaned.

"Oh, yes. You're right, Severus." Minerva took a deep breath. "Come along, now. You too, Mr. Weasley."

"Has this happened before, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head slowly.

"Well, we'll levitate you to the infirmary and then we can figure out what's happening." Poppy took out her wand and cast, "Mobilicorpus."

Harry let out a moan before turning his head and threw up all over their shoes. His skin felt hot and itchy.

"He's broken out in hives." Poppy sounded shocked. "Why… What?"

Even Severus sounded disturbed, "Quick, let's get him to the infirmary."

That can't be a good sign , Harry thought.

The trip through the castle was long and miserable. His skin was getting hotter and he felt like he had fallen into a patch of poison ivy. The only sounds are his wheezing and the echoing footsteps.

He was gently set on the first bed. "Mr. Potter, I'm going to cast a diagnostic spell. It should tell us what's happening. You won't feel a thing. Egritudo."

The words sounded far away, like they had been spoken through a sock and then played on an ancient gramophone. He could hear the words but he couldn't understand their meaning. He jerked. Everything burned!

"He's seizing!" Poppy sounded even more shocked. "Severus! Hold his legs!"

The seizure lasted almost a minute and left Harry feeling exhausted.

Both adults sighed and then looked at each other questioningly.

"Why did he seize? The spell couldn't do this? Could it?"

"That's the only explanation we have right now. What does that paper say?"

Poppy mumbled to herself, "Harry James Potter, 11, illnesses- nothing that could cause this, injuries- nothing, diet- nothing, allergies- magic due to curse. Allergic to magic!? How can he be allergic to magic?!"

"It is possible," Severus said slowly. Each word falling precisely and neatly into place. "That it's a result of the dark magic that he was exposed to as an infant. No one's ever survived the killing curse before. There is no telling what consequences it could have had."

"Oh. Oh, dear. Hurry, let's put him in a private room and cover it with magic dampening wards before he gets any worse."

Harry felt strong arms lift him up and carry him further into the hospital wing before setting him down on a different bed.

"Can we give him any potions or would that make him worse?"

"I would not...trust..any form of magic being performed in or around him to not make him worse. I think...the only thing we can do is...wait - as we don't keep any muggle medicine - and hope that the dampening wards will help him."

Poppy must have nodded in agreement because Harry didn't hear anything else. He closed his eyes concentrating on the little sensations around him: the bed was soft and wonderfully warm, his skin prickled and itched but was no longer burning as it had been, the air was cool, his lips were dry.

He wished that he'd been able to have something to drink.

He thought about asking one of the people - teachers? - with him for some water but he was asleep before he could ask.

It was a long few hours for Severus and Poppy as they waited to see if Harry's breathing became easier.

It was a relief when he fell asleep.

Quietly, they left the room.

Poppy collapsed gracelessly in her office chair, Severus standing next to her like an overgrown bat.

Neither of them spoke.

Several minutes passed, before Poppy broke the silence, "What do we do now? The wards seem to work but that, that's not a permanent solution! We live in a magic school. He's magic . How can we expect him to stay here if he's allergic to his very being? We'll have to- we'll have to send him home where he'd be safe," Her voice broke. If they sent him home there was little question that he would return. He couldn't attend Hogwarts and learn about magic if he was allergic to magic . It just wouldn't work.

Severus didn't respond for several tense moments. "I think we need to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

It was morning when Harry woke up.

He peered blearily around, his glasses dangling from one ear, confused.

Where was he?

He remembered the train ride to Hogwarts, feeling ill, and then- he had collapsed? And there had been two people with him? Where were they now?

He swung his legs out of bed, intent on tracking someone down to answer his questions, just as a woman in a nurse's outfit stepped into the room. She looked startled to see him up and about and then furious that he was out of bed, "Mr. Potter, what are you doing?! Get back in bed this instant! You're in no state to be getting up!"

She calmed when he complied.

Harry let her fuss about him; feeling his skin, checking for any remaining rashes or hives, taking his temperature, and asking him lots of questions about how he was feeling. He was feeling pretty good. He was thirsty and hungry and a bit dizzy from laying down for so long but those were easy things to ignore. He wasn't feeling any residual pain or irritation; it was as though the attack had never happened.

"Excuse me," he interrupted at last. "Where am I? Is this Hogwarts? How long has it been? Have I missed the feast and, oh no, what about classes? And where's-"

Poppy cut him off, gently shushing him.

"It's alright, Mr. Potter. Professor Dumbledore will be here momentarily; he'll answer all your questions and tell you the plan for how we'll continue."

That sounded okay to Harry, who settled in impatiently to wait.

He was still waiting ten minutes later when Professor Dumbledore - or at least he assumed it was him - swept into the room. He was wearing a purple star-speckled hat, a matching robe, half-moon glasses, and rainbow socks, like some children's book illustration come to life. His eyes twinkled behind his glasses and when he spoke his voice was soft and kind.

"Hello, Harry. It is good to see you well. You gave us all a great scare last night."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, contrite. "I don't know what happened. I just-"

"It's alright; I'm afraid there's nothing you could have done to prevent it," a grave note slipped into his tone and Harry's heart rate sped up to hear it. That really didn't sound good. "Poppy - our school nurse - has informed me that you are, in fact, allergic to magic."

"Allergic! No! I can't be allergic; I want to stay here and learn how to cast spells and brew potions and, and…," His eyes watered. "I don't want to go back home. To my old school. Please don't make me leave."

"Shush, dear boy. Nobody is making you leave. In fact, we'd greatly like it if you stayed."

"But how can I stay if I'm allergic to magic?"

"Poppy, Severus - our resident potion's master and I," He coughed, suddenly looking sheepish. Harry wondered what for. "Oh excuse me, where are my manners? I am Professor Dumbledore and I am headmaster."

"Nice to meet you."

Dumbledore inclined his head. It would have been quite regal if not for his silly hat. It drooped forward and threatened to fall off. Harry stifled a giggle, "As I was saying. We have been working on a plan to acclimate you to magic. Poppy is confident that it will work; after all, you do not appear to be allergic to your latent magic. It is just excess magic that seems to make you ill. You have not had the benefit of living amongst the latent magic that some of our other students have been exposed to since birth but, ah, such is life! So the plan is to slowly expose you to more and more magic until poof, " He mimed an explosion. "You won't be allergic, anymore."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Although, Professor Snape does not fully believe that this plan will work. As it wouldn't in the muggle world. He is also working on devising a potion to help treat your allergic reactions and hopefully smooth the path to adjusting or one that will essentially block the magic while still allowing you to use it. It'll be a long road but we'll get there eventually. Now," He clapped his hands, decisively. "I think some breakfast is in order. How does that sound?"

Harry grinned; overjoyed that everything seemed to be working out despite the roadblocks that kept popping up. He couldn't wait to start; he didn't usually like doctors but he was excited to start adjusting to magic. He wanted to learn and study and experience more and more magic; just like his parents! And he was beyond relieved that he wouldn't have to leave. How cruel it would have been to learn of Hogwarts and not be able to attend! "That sounds fantastic, professor.