It was Mrs. Fernsby herself who took it upon herself to pick up the little boy at Kings Cross station in London to apperate with him to Greengrass Manor. Everything had been explained to him by his teachers at school, but she impressed upon him in great length how important it was to express his greatfulness towards Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass.
Harry Potter was at this time just eleven years old and though in his first appearance there was not much to capivate his relatives, there was at least nothing to actively repel them. He was small for his age, with pale skin that seemed to sit directly on his bones in several areas. His hair was dark and almost wild but that could be overlooked given the fact that anyone with a Slytherin background would have been proud to have green eyes like his. His clothes were all too big for him and he appeared to be even smaller in them than he would have otherwise, but clothes can be changed. He seemed timid and shy and to almost fade into the background. Even though he was a little awkward in his interactions he was very polite. Cyril an Celia recieved him with every bit of kindness they could offer and as soon as they saw how much encouragement the boy needed Cyril tried to be as open as his usual stiffness allowed. His wife however without much effort and speaking one word where her husband spoke ten, by the way of smiling friendly immediately seemed the more approachable of the two to the boy.
The children were all at home, Daphne having been brought home by one of the house elves and Astoria not yet at school, and the introductions went as well as one could wish, with a few friendly giggles, and no embarrassment, because the Greengrass girls were too much used to company and praise to have anything like shyness; and their confidence increased as they saw that their cousin did not seem to have any.
They were a remarkably good-looking family, the daughters were both very pretty and both looked to be a little older than their age, which produced as much of a difference between the cousins in appearance, as their different upbringing had given to their behaviour; no one looking at the group would have suspected that they were almost of the same age with Daphne being a little older than Harry – she was already twelve – and Astoria being a year younger. She would turn eleven soon and start Hogwarts next year. Harry looked to be a year younger than Astoria if it came to that.
The little visitor meanwhile was as unhappy as possible. He was intimidated by everybody, and ashamed of himself, he was not really longing to go back to the Dursley family, but did not know yet what to make of his new home. He knew not how to look up, and could scarcely speak to be heard, or without blushing. Mrs. Fernsby's talk at the station about his wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude and good behaviour which it required, and his consciousness of his own misery was therefore increased by the idea that it would be mean-spirited not to appear greatful and happy. The fatigue, too, of the journey, the nausea of his very first apparition soon became too much. Too much were the well-meant questions of Mr. Greengrass, and all the repeated statements of Mrs. Fernsby that he would be a good boy and fit right in; too much were Mrs. Greengrasses smiles, when Harry had to sit next to her on the sofa and pet her pug. Too much was even the cake that was brought in to make him feel welcome. He could not eat more than two bites before he fell over and new no more.
„This is not a very promising beginning," said Mrs. Fernsby, when Harry had been taken to his new room by the house elves. „After all that I said to him before we came here, I thought he would certainly know how to behave himself; I told him how much might depend upon good first impression. I did not want there to be any of the rebellious behaviour that we know from his father; I think he must miss his relatives really terribly. Of course he must think of that place as his home. I am sure he will be quick to understand how much his situation has changed for the better"
It required a longer time, however, than Mrs. Fernsby had thought it would, to make Harry feel quite himself around Greengrass Manor. He felt lonely. With the Dursleys at least he had figured out their quirks and knew when it was best to be quiet and disappear, but here everybody constantly seemed to want to know his opinion on everything, wanted to know where he had been and what he had done over the course of the day. Nobody meant to be unkind, but nobody put themselves out of their way to really understand Harry either.
Astoria Greengrass was clearly trying to get to know Harry and find some activities that could be enjoyed together, but Harry had no interresting stories to tell – he certainly was not going to tell them about his friends at Hogwarts or his Adventures towards the end of the year. She however found it strange that Harry would not speak French and when she played the piano for him he seemed only politely interrested. So all she could do was to very generously give him her least favourite toys and leave Harry to himself while she went after her own activities.
Harry, wheather around his cousins or apart from them, whether in the dining-room, the park or one of the living-rooms, was lost, shaken and fearful. He was too shy to overcome Celia's silence, too in awe of Cyril to say a word in his presence and desperate in trying to live up to Emely Fernsby's expectations. The tasks the Dursleys had given him had at least given him the sense of accomplishing anything, but in this house, he was not even allowed to be useful.
The grandeur of the house astonished him, but could not console him. The rooms were too large for him to feel comfortable or at home. Some of them seemed as big as the Dursleys entire home. Every room was full of delicate china ornaments and vases and Harry was constantly worried about breaking something and often hid in his room. And the little boy who was spoken of at tea-time seemed to lack the gratitude that everybody was expecting of him. He always ended his days by writing letters to the only two people in the world that he could talk to, his first two friends Ron and Hermione and then sobbing himself to sleep. A week had passed in this way, and no one suspected him of spending his nights crying. Too good was he at hiding all his emotions or any sign of unhappyness from his relatives. Until one day her Daphne found him sitting on the attic stairs and staring at the wall.
„Harry," she said, with a gentle voice full of concern, „What ist the matter?" And sitting down by her, she took great efforts to overcome his shame at being so surprised, and she tried to persuade Harry to speak openly. Was he ill? or was anybody angry with him? or had she had an argument with Astoria? or was she uncertain about any rules of the house that she could explain or help with? Did he, in short, want anything she could possibly get him, or do for him? For a long while no answer could be obtained beyond a „no, no-not at all-no, thank you"; but she kept asking; and no sooner had she begun start asking about Hogwarts and if she could help him study anything, than tears began to form hin Harry's eyes and he began to explain where his real troubles were. She tried to console him.
„You are sorry to leave Hogwarts behind," said she, „because it is the only place where you have ever felt at home and where you have friends; but remember that you are with family now, who all love you, and care about you and wish to make you happy. Let us walk out in the park, and you tell me all about Ron and Hermione. How is it being in Gryffindor? What does your common room look like?
On pursuing the subject, Daphe found that, as dear as Ron and Hermione were, between the two it was clearly Hermione that Harry was thinking about the most. Ron had been his first friend, but Harry had a sense that Hermione was good for him. They shared the sense of wonder about the magical world, that was new for both of them and that Ron just took for granted. Hermione had told him she would miss him very much indeed."' „But Hermione I will write to you, I promise and you will write." „Yes, he had promised he would and he did, but now there is a problem." „And what is that? I am happy that you have such a great friend to write to. Are you going to write her again today?" Harry hung his head and answered hesitatingly, „I don't know; I am out of parchment."
„If that is your biggest difficulty, I will furnish you with parchment and ink and any other material, and then you can write your letters whenever you want to. Would it make you happy to write to Hermione tonight?"
„Yes, very."
„Then let us take care of it now. Come with me into the breakfast-room, we will find everything there, and I don't think anyone will be there at this time of the day.
Harry thought it a bold move, but offered no further resistance; and they went together into the breakfast-room, where Daphne prepared some parchment for Harry, and ruled his lines with all the goodwill that a sister could show, and probably with somewhat more exactness than Harry himself would have done it. She brought Harry with a couple of rolls of parchment back up to his room and asked for Harry to give Hermione her best wishes. The entire time Harry felt a strange feeling of tightness in his chest and his hands were shaking a little. He was unable to express his feelings beyond a short „thank you", but his face fully conveyed all his gratitude and happiness, and Daphne began to find Harry an interresting study. She talked to him more, and, from all that Harry told her, she was convinced of him being a very loyal, affectionate friend, who had a strong sense of justice; she saw through Harry's feelings about the entire situation he was in and thought not too highly of her own conduct in the past couple of days. She had never knowingly given him pain, but she now felt that he required more positive kindness; and with that conclusion set out, to lessen Harry's fears of them all, and gave him especially a great deal of good advice how to get along with Astoria, and being as merry as possible.
From this day on Harry grew more comfortable. He felt that he had a friend, and Daphne's incredible kindness somehow made it easier to be around everybody else. Greengrass Manor became less strange, it's inhabitants more approachable; and if there were some that still made Harry feel a little uneasy, he began at least to know their ways, and find the best way to act around them to get along with them. The little awkward situations that had at first made every interaction a pain for everybody, and not the least for herself, became fewer and fewer, and Harry was no longer afraid to appear before her uncle, as he began to understand that a man can be stern and strict without resulting to violence like uncle Vernon did on so many occasions. Even aunt Emely Fernby's voice did not make him jump up, evertime she said something. Even Astoria seemed to tolerate Harry's presence and when she played something that required a second person she would sometimes ask Harry to play with her. Daphne was still as kind as ever.
As his appearance and spirits improved, Cyrus and Emely thought with greater satisfaction of their benevolent plan; pretty soon they had decided between them that Harry was far from being the brightest he was easy to be around and was not likely to give them any trouble. A mean opinion of Harrys abilities was not confined to them. Harry could read, work, and perform his school work well enough, but he had been taught nothing more. The day to day conveniences that magic can so easily provide were not known to him and as they found him ignorant of many things with which they and their children had long been familiar, they thought him slow and not very intelligent, and for the first two or three weeks were continually bringing some fresh report of it into the ddinig-room. „Dear Celia, only think, Harry cannot name any other magical school except Hogwarts." „My nephew does not know any magical places in Britain except Diagon Alley, Kings Cross station and Hogwarts." „He has never heard of floo powder." „He does not know the difference between brewing a potion and alchemy!" „How strange!" „Did you ever hear anything so stupid?"
„My dear," Celia would reply, „it is very bad, but you must not expect everybody to be a quick learner."
„But, aunt Emely, he is really so very ignorant!" Astoria cried „Do you know, we asked him last night how he would get to the ministry for magic; and he said, he would go to Diagon Alley. He thinks of nothing but Diagon Alley, and calls it the Alley, as if there were no other alleys in London. I am sure I would have been ashamed of myself, if I had not known better when I was half her age. I cannot remember the time when I did not know a great deal that she has no idea about. How long ago it is, aunt, since we used to repeat the chronological order in which the legendary witches and wizards of Britain lived starting with Merlin himself! Yes! And of the Goblin Kings; besides a lot of stories and tales of our mythology, all the alchemic metals and semi-metals, the rotations of the planets, and distinguished authors."
„Very true indeed, my dear," said Emely, „but you are blessed with a wonderful memory, and your poor cousin has probably none at all. There is a vast deal of difference in memories, as well as in everything else, and therefore you must make allowance for your cousin, and pity her deficiency. And remember that, if you are ever so forward and clever yourselves, you should always be modest; for, as much as you know already, there is a great deal more for you to learn."
„Yes, I know there is, till I am seventeen and am done with Hogwarts. But I must tell you that Harry is so odd and so stupid."
„To be sure, my dear, he is very stupid indeed, and shows no spark of genius or any inclination to become more than he is. But, all things considered, I do not know if it is not as well that it should be like that, because, you know (thanks to my inspiration) your father and mother are so good as to bring him up with you, it is not at all necessary that he should be as talented as you are – on the contrary, it is much better that there should be a distinction."
Such were the words with which Mrs. Emely Fernsby tried to form her nieces mind; and it is not very surprising that, with all her promising talents and early knowledge, she should be entirely lacking in the less common studies of self-knowledge, generosity and humility. In everything but character she was admirably taught. Cyrus did not know what was lacking, because, even though he was truly a concerned father, he was not visibly affectionate to anybody, and his reservedness surpressed every open expression on Astorias side towards him.
To the education of her daughters Celia paid not the smallest attention. She had not time for such tasks. She was a woman who spent her days in sitting, nicely dressed, on a sofa, talking to a friend, not accomplishing anything, thinking more of her pug than of her children, but very indulgent to the latter when it did not put herself in any inconvenience. She was guided in everything important by Cyrus, and in smaller matters by her sister. Had she had the time for the education of her girls, she would probably have supposed it unnecessary, because her sister was taking care of everything so nicely. As for Harry's being stupid at learning, „she could only say it was very unfortunate, but some people were stupid, and Harry must just apply herself more: she did not know what else was to be done; and, except him being so very boring, she must say she saw no harm in the poor little thing, and always found him very handy and quick in carrying messages, and fetching, what she wanted."
Harry, with all his faults of ignorance and anxiety, was fixed at Greengrass Manor, and learning to love it more than his former home, grew up there not unhappily among his cousins. There was no real evil in Astoria; and though Harry was often humiliated by her treatment of him, he did not think enough of his own worth to feel very injured by it.
Just after her entering the family, Celia Greengrass, gave up the house in London that she had received as a wedding gift from her parents. She had used to spend every spring there, but claimed now that the city air was not good for her and remained wholly in the country, leaving Cyrus to attend his duty the Wizengamot, if he wanted her company or not. In the country, therefore, the Miss Greengrass continued to exercise their memories, practise their incantations, and year by year came back from school taller and more feminine: their father saw them becoming in appearance, and academic accomplishments, everything that could satisfy his anxiety. Astoria was maybe a little careless and extravagant in her taste, and had already given him some uneasiness in her spending, but Daphne promised nothing but good. His daughters, he felt, while they still wore the name of Greengrass, must be giving it new grace, and when they gave it up, he trusted, would give his family a good reputation; the character of Daphne in particular, her strong intuition and clarity of mind, were very promising. She could certainly take the family seat in the Wizengamot and the family fortune and change some things for the better.
Amid the care which his own children demanded, Cyrus Greengrass proved to be generous even towards Harrys friends. He managed to discreetly direct some money towards the Weasley family who would have never accepted charitable gifts, but being selected to be the recipient of a new ministry book fund that provided money for the tuition and school books of ministry employees that were not so well off, was something they gratefully accepted. Harry, though between terms almost totally separated from his friends, was deeply moved when he heard what had been done for the family of his first friend. Once, and once only, after many years, had he the happiness of being with Hermione after their last school year. Hermione was invited to spend a week with her friend at the Manor. Their joy when they met, their happiness in being together is easy to imagine; as well as the misery of the boy when she left him. Luckily the visit happened in the Christmas holidays, when she could directly look for comfort from Daphne; and she told him such wonderful stories of what Hermione would one day accomplish what good she would be able to do in the world, that Harry was almost happy that Hermione had gone back to London and to studying so hard and be the next Minister for Magic. Daphne's friendship never failed him: her changing from Hogwarts to studying with a master had not changed anything about her. Without any display of doing more than the rest, or any fear of doing too much, she was always informed about Harry's current intrests, and considerate of his feelings, trying to make his good qualities shine in front of others, and to support Harry in showing more of himself, giving him advice, consolation, and encouragement.
Kept back as he was by everybody else, her support alone could not bring Harry forward; but her attentions were crucial in assisting Harry to achieve academic excelence, and providing entertainment at the same time. Daphne knew that Harry was intelligent and a quick learner and given the right things to read would one day be unstoppable. Unlike any teacher at school Daphne made reading useful by talking to him of what he read. In return Harry loved Daphne better than anybody in the world except Hermione: his heart was divided between his two friends.