Dyslexic: Language disability.
Disclaimer: JKR own her works.
Summary: What if McGonagall had delivered the letter from the start like she had done for every other muggle-raised child? Why wouldn't she have wanted to check up on Harry when she loathed the Dursley's from day one? What would change will change with his new legal guardian? Slytherin Harry, no godmoding. Reboot.
Chapter 1 - A Change in the Course
Harry frowned at the bowl with his new 'uniform' and was just grateful that he would not be attending the same school as Dudley.
The was a firm, but polite knock on the door.
Harry sighed and before he could be ordered, he said, "I'll get it."
When Harry opened the door he didn't know what had been expecting. But a particularly tall woman in a white floral dress and large-brimmed sun hat was not it.
Harry had never seen anyone quite like her before. Her eyes were green, though paler than his own emerald eyes, her greying hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her expression… she appeared to be observing Harry as closely as he was observing her.
"Who is it, boy?" Uncle Vernon called from the living room.
Harry felt heat rise to his cheeks, realizing he hadn't said anything to the woman, not even a hello.
"Um, hello, ma'am, can I help you?" Harry asked, slightly intimidated by her regal disposition.
Her face softened, "Hello, Mr. Potter, I've come to see you and speak with your guardians. My name is Professor McGonagall."
Harry blinked up at her, "You're here to see me? Are you from Stonewall?"
She shook her heads, "No, I am from Hogwarts, a private school your parents, Lily and James Potter enrolled you in."
Harry felt a happy thrill go through him. No one ever said his parents names. And a private school? His hopes died. His parents had left him with nothing, there was no way the Dursleys would send him to a private school. But then this Professor McGonagall looked like she was made of some tough stuff, Harry would let her tell the Dursleys the news.
He held the door wider as Vernon came around the corner.
"Who are you?" Uncle Vernon demanded.
Minerva glared at him, stepping forward, Harry shutting the door behind her. Harry leaned against the door waiting for the ensuing fight that was sure to come. His Aunt and Uncle were never polite to people who wanted to help Harry.
"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Harry gaped at the woman's back, Uncle Vernon gaped at her, and Aunt Petunia who had just walked into the hall gave a little squeak.
What happened next surprised Harry even more than an adult talking about Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Uncle Vernon's face turned purple and he bellowed, "THE BOY WILL NOT BE ATTENDING THAT CRACKPOT SCHOOL!"
Harry walked around the tall woman to meet his Uncle's gaze, "Wait, you're serious. You can't mean to tell me that Hogwarts really is a school for- for magic?"
"That is exactly what Hogwarts is for, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said cooly. "And you will be attending, as your mother and father did."
"We will not pay for it," Aunt Petunia said sourly, "Nor for any of his things."
"He will not be attending at all!" Uncle Vernon yelled. "We worked too hard to beat the freak out of him."
Harry glared at his Uncle, and definitely turned to the Professor, "Are you- um are you a witch then?"
Professor McGonagall looked at him, her lips set but something around her eyes were kinder when they turned to him. "Yes, I am, I teach Transfiguration."
"We will have none of your freakishness here! Get out! The boy will be normal," Uncle Vernon raged.
The witch ignored him.
Harry followed her lead and asked, "Am I a witch?"
"No," she said.
Harry's heart fell. How was he supposed to attend a magical school if he didn't have any magic? Maybe he could tell her about all the strange things that happened to and around him when he got upset.
But then she finished the thought, "No, Mr. Potter, you are wizard, witches are female."
Harry grinned up her.
"Aren't you listening to me, woman? I said he will not be going," Uncle Vernon insisted.
The Professor drew a wooden stick from her sleeve and unlike Dudley's smelting stick, Harry thought that perhaps it was magical, a wand.
It was quite possible Harry was dreaming. It was a good dream.
She pointed the wand at his uncle and said, "You certainly will not be allowed to stop him. His parents were great people, I taught them myself, and Harry will be great as well."
"His parents got themselves dead didn't they?" Uncle Vernon snarled. "Murdered by some maniac. I will not have any of it in my house. You gave the boy to us and we will do with him as we see fit."
"But you told me they died in car crash!" Harry exclaimed.
Dudley was watching this exchange silently behind his mother. He gave Harry wide eyes. Murdered was more interesting than killed while drinking and driving.
"We didn't want you get any funny ideas," Uncle Vernon snapped.
Harry frowned, not quite understanding.
"How dare you?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"How dare I? You're the ones who gave him to us without asking. You're just lucky we didn't pawn him off to the orphanage. The boy is nothing but trouble."
"Is that so?" she asked raising a brow.
Harry felt his insides turn to lead, if this professor believed Uncle Vernon… there would be no escaping this place.
"It is so, he is a rude, nasty, ungrateful little boy," Aunt Petunia said, finally speaking up.
Harry wanted to say it wasn't true but he didn't think it would help, it never had before.
The professor flicked her wand and a paper appeared, a contract. "Sign this and I will take him off your hands then?"
Harry didn't believe, couldn't let himself believe it. How long had he wished that someone unknown distant relative would sweep him away? This couldn't be happening. This had to be a dream.
"If we sign that he doesn't have to come back?" Uncle Vernon asked, a cruel gleam in his eyes.
"Yes," she said cliply, waving her wand again, so that she held out the contract and a quill to him.
Vernon hurriedly took paper and signed it before passing it to Aunt Petunia.
And as much as Harry wanted to leave here, this Professor was a stranger and yes, it was cool that she had just done magic, but supposedly so was the 'maniac' who had killed his parents. But the paper was signed and vanished before he could voice his worries of being handed over to some lady who was a self proclaimed witch.
Professor McGonagall turned to him, go get your things. Harry shook his head, "I'm not sure this is a good idea." Caught between unease and not wanting to reveal that his room was the cupboard under the stairs to her right.
"Harry, I know this is a lot to take in, but I can't leave you here if you are being mistreated."
Harry squared his shoulders, his innate stubbornness taking root, "How do you know if I am being mistreated or not?"
She didn't pull any punches, "You have bruises on your arms, you are overly skinny, and your clothes are several sizes too big for you while your cousin appears to be suffering from the opposite treatment."
"Dudley is not suffering," Aunt Petunia said harshly.
Professor McGonagall did not acknowledge that his aunt had spoken. "Please Harry, grab your things, I will explain everything once we leave here. You will only need to stay with me over the summer holidays, students who attend Hogwarts live at the castle."
Harry took in a deep breath and figured that if it was a choice between someone who had taught his parents -and seemed to have liked them, versus an orphanage he knew where he wanted to be. Causely he went to his cupboard and went in to pull out his book bag and threw in an extra pair of his best hand-me-downs and his drawings, his other art supplies already in the bag.
"I'm ready," he said when he emerged from the cupboard.
He almost climbed back into the cupboard when he saw the witch's face.
She said very slowly, "You kept him in a cupboard?"
"It was the only place for him, being as he is," Uncle Vernon said.
Professor McGonagall's wand sliced through the air before she turned to Harry. "Let's go Mr. Potter, and leave this swine behind us."
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia screamed and ran into the living room, Dudley shouting, "What's wrong?"
But Harry saw that his old 'guardians' had pig tails growing out from their butts, sticking through their clothing.
Harry took Professor McGonagall's proffered hand, thinking that whatever future awaited him, he would never have to return to this place. It was that fact that put a smile on his face as he walked down the steps of Number 4 Privet Drive for the last time.
AN: And there is the beginning of the story. I am likely going to change the plot a lot as I I will be covering all seven years. I will not skipping/summarizing any of the books so hopefully at least 200,000 word fic? That as well as Minerva being Harry's legal guardian is the split from the first draft.
Hope you enjoyed and please review? Ideas and wants are very welcome.
Chapter 2 - Awaiting the Gavel
Professor McGonagall's warning did not prepare him for the sensation of being twisted and shoved and sucked through a straw, magically being transported from behind Uncle Vernon's car in Surrey to an alley in the city of Glasgow, Scotland.
Harry felt like throwing up, he didn't, but his legs did give out and he plopped on his butt. He looked up Professor McGonagall wanting to tell her awful he thought that had been but not wanting to insult his new guardian.
Her lips twitched, "Very well done, Mr. Potter."
Harry gave her a skeptical look as he stood and dusted himself off.
She grinned then, "Most people throw up their first time."
"I almost did," Harry muttered.
"Well, onward we go. I thought we shop for muggle things first and then go out for supper. I think the magical world can wait a little longer."
"Muggle?"
"Non-magical humans," she explained.
"Oh," Harry said lamely. His mind was bursting with questions but the Professor seemed -even as she was trying to be nice, like a stern person.
Besides Harry didn't want to wind up with a pig's tail.
So it was in silence that Harry followed Professor McGonagall to through the streets of that old city. He watched the buildings with a sense of awe. The Dursleys never took him anywhere and he liked the change in people's accents.
When they arrived at a young man's clothing store Harry was at a lost what to do. He had never been shopping before and he felt awkward at the idea of using a strange's money.
Professor McGonagall seemed to read his thoughts, "You will pick out at least three sets of regular attire, two comfier sets, and two pairs of pajamas. You will also pick out new pairs of socks, underthings, and a pair of durable shoes. We will get you something formal from the wizarding world."
"Er-" Harry started.
"I am your legal guardian, Mr. Potter, it is my duty and honor to provide for you. Now come, I don't wish to be here all day."
Harry followed her, running his fingers over all the different types of cloth. He picked out things that had the best feel to them and bold solid colors with minimum amount of designs on them. It was a very efficient shopping, but Harry's insides squirmed when the price rang up.
He opened his mouth to protest but again Professor McGonagall cut him off. "It is polite to thank someone who buys you a gift, and most impolite to refuse it."
With a hesitant smile Harry said, "Thank you, Professor McGonagall."
"You are most welcome, Mr. Potter." She set aside one of the outfits before the clerk could bag them, "Here, go change, and you can throw your cousin's cloths in the bin."
Once they exited, Harry in clothes that fit him, and Professor McGonagall as regal as ever they found a restaurant. It wasn't fancy, but the food smelled intoxicating, and all the customers seemed to happy regulars.
They sat at a both and Harry was overwhelmed with his options. He had never been able to eat out, and even though he was the one who cooked half the meals at the Dursleys, he was not the one who got to choose what was made.
He ended up ordering the fish of the day and as they waited for their food Harry's dam of building questions finally burst. "You taught my parents?"
Far from being angry at having a question posed to her, Professor McGonagall looked relieved, "I did indeed. Your mother was the top of her year and your father was one of the most talented students."
"What is transfiguration?" Harry asked next, remembering the name of the thing she said she taught.
"It is the magic to transform one thing into another. As you get more advanced you will start turning inanimate things into animate beings, such as book into a bunny. Even more advanced transfiguration allows you to create things out of nothing."
Harry eyes widened, "That's awesome!"
She grinned at him, "That it is. Your father was one of my favorite students, he took to the subject like fish to water, though I do hope you read more than he did. Some of his papers, if I remember correctly were atrocious."
"What was my mum's favorite subject?"
"Lily's specialty was Charms, she was well on her way to getting a masters in that subject, she was also skilled in Potions. Of course, Lily shown in all her classes, she was well loved."
Harry ate up this information like a starving man. After a lifetime no one having a kind word about his parents and not being allowed to a questions, here was someone who was the opposite of everything the Dursleys were.
"Do you have a funny story about them?" Harry asked, hopefully.
Professor McGonagall laughed and continued to laugh as the waiter placed their food down in front of them. Regaining her composure, she motioned for Harry to eat as she told Harry about his father's infatuation with Lily and his mother's adamant refusal of James until their seventh year.
James sounded kind of like a jerk to Harry, but Professor McGonagall talked about him with enough fondness that Harry thought there might be more to his father than the prankster jock he was portrayed as. Lily sounded like one of the kindest people on the planet. They both sounded popular and talented, things Harry was not.
"Professor McGonagall?"
She tilted her head, and for some reason Harry got the distinct mental image of a cat in his mind. "Yes, Mr. Potter."
"Why did you take me from the Dursleys? I mean I know they are good people, but you don't know me. Isn't taken on a kid a big responsibility? I don't plan to be any trouble, I just..."
"James Potter was my legal godson, Fleamont Potter, your paternal grandfather and I were good friends in school."
"Oh," Harry said lamely, then before he could stop himself, "Fleamont?"
She grinned at him, "His mother's maiden name, it caused him no end of trouble with the other kids."
"Why did my parents put me with the Dursleys? Surely they must of had friends? Didn't my father have any other family?"
"Your godfather was your father's best friends, Sirius Black, but he was a victim to war. Your father's immediate line is no more and though, as a pureblood, he had extended family, it would not have been appropriate to put you with some of the older families as the war split many relations."
"What's a pureblood and what was the war about?"
Professor McGonagall sighed and shot a glance around them, no one was paying them any mind. Harry thought it might have something to do with the little circle with symbols she had drawn on napkin which she placed in the center of the table. "Pureblood families are like the aristocrats of the wizarding world, they pride themselves in having only other witches and wizards as relatives. Muggleborns, those children born to parents with no magical heritage are considered lesser. For a pureblood to marry a muggle or muggleborn is looked down upon. But there is no evidence whatsoever that muggleborns have lesser magical skill, in fact, squibs, people born to magical parents who are themselves not magical is possible. The war was started by a madman who was able to gather to cult under his ideology. For years he terrorized the country."
"What stopped him?"
"Your mother."
Harry gaped at her, "What?"
She smiled sadly at him, "Your parents were among many who opposed the Dark Lord. When -and you are never to repeat this name, Voldemort, came to your house, he murdered your parents, but by some unknown power, your mother's finals act led to the Dark Lord's demise and saved your life."
Harry didn't quite realize he had tears in his eyes until the professor passed him a clean napkin. Then she passed him the desert menu. Harry's stomach rumbled. Yes, he had just had a huge meal, but as he approached being eleven years old his appetite had grown well beyond what the Dursleys were willing to feed him.
He ordered the Death by Chocolate option, it was a good decision.
After dinner they took a cab -much to Harry's relief, the trip took over an hour. Harry watched the winding road as he mulled over the new information. His parents were no longer spectors in his mind, sure he still couldn't imagine what they looked like but it didn't matter, they were good people. They had died as heroes, had died to give him and their country a future. They had not been wastrels who had killed themselves while drunk driving. They had, in all likelihood, loved him. And of all the things Professor McGonagall had done for him today, he was most grateful for that knowledge.
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They arrived at a small two story stone cottage with what looked like a blacksmith's shed attached to the side. It was a neighborless piece of land, with a lawn that had more rock than grass. The cottage sat on a hill between mountains, that overlooked a lake. There were trees in the distance, and it was the most forested place Harry had ever been in his life.
The sun had set somewhere behind the clouds, though there was still enough light to see by. Harry walked behind Professor McGonagall, and therefore did not see the man who opened the door.
He had a deep, warm voice, "Minnie! I was expecting to see you tonight, is everything alright?"
"Hello Malcolm, I was wondering if the offer to move in with you over the summers was still an option?"
There was a prolonged pause.
"Of course, your my sister, of course you are always welcome. Merlin knows, I could use the company. But why now?"
Professor McGonagall stepped to the side, revealing Harry who had more or less been hiding behind her her skirts. "I adopted Harry Potter."
Malcolm's blue eyes widened as he took in Harry and then his sister. Malcolm McGonagall was a big man, as in tall, broad shouldered, and visible biceps under his plaid long sleeve shirt. His hair was black, streaked with silver, and his features were sharp, he would have been very handsome, had his largish nose not been broken and healed crooked. But despite his intimidating build, when Harry met the man's eyes he was instantly put at ease, he saw only those blue depths.
Harry gave an awkward wave and said shyly, "Hi, Mr. McGonagall."
Malcolm blinked down at him before his expression broke into a gentle smile. He held out a big calloused hand to Harry, who shook it as firmly as he was able, "Hello, Mr. Potter, it is a pleasure to meet you."
"Malcolm?" Professor McGonagall questioned.
Malcolm gave Harry a wink, before stepping back, holding the door opened he said, "Welcome home!"
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Harry, Professor McGonagall, and Malcolm had tea before a roaring fire, Harry making fast friends with Malcolm's herding dogs named Artemis and Apollo. Malcolm gave his sister a teasing smile when he had told Harry the shepherds' names.
Harry was soon ushered to a guest room, which he was told was his perminate room not long after arriving as he nearly fallen asleep in his chair. He didn't have long to admire his room before sleep overcame him. Artemis and Apollo pressing on either side of him.
Harry woke in the middle of the night because of nightmare, a red haired woman had been screaming his name and their had been terrible green light-
One of the dogs was licking his face.
Deciding that he needed a glass of water, Harry climbed over the dogs. He was half way down the steps when he froze at the sound of raised voices.
"What do you mean you adopted Harry Bloody Potter!?" It was not a voice Harry had heard before.
"Quiet Robert, you will wake him," Professor McGonagall said.
"Do you know how much trouble you are inviting into our lives? The danger your putting our families in?" The one called Robert demanded in only a slightly quieter voice.
Harry sat down on the steps, hands wrapping around the wooden banister. They are going to send me away. Harry's felt the wind go out of him. The contract, the clothes, the food, the stories of his parents, and the new home with his own room was all a lie. His luck was just that bad.
"We are not in any danger," Malcolm said, his voice steeler than Harry had heard in the short time he had known him.
"Do you honestly believe the Dark Lord is dead? That a baby defeated him? Inviting the Boy Who Lived into our family is asking for trouble," Robert said, he sounded furious.
"Rob," Malcolm said, "Your youngest daughter works with dragons and your eldest daughter works with goblins. Danger isn't something new."
"Harry is staying with me," Professor McGonagall said.
"How did you even get him?" Rob asked.
"I was his father's godmother and I talked with a few of the right people and got the papers signed over. I am Harry's legal guardian, court declared godmother, and I have more right to him than his non-magical relatives or any of the extended pureblood relations."
"I am surprised you didn't take him after the war," Malcolm said, though it sounded more like a question.
Professor McGonagall sighed, "Albus talked me out of it, it would have been hard to raise him in the wizarding world given his fame. But those muggles -they are the worse sort."
"He would be better off with them!" Robert exclaimed. "I know you missed out on having children of your own but-"
"Robert," Malcolm scolded.
"You listen to me little brother," Professor McGonagall said darkly, "your wife may have died in the war, and Malcolm's wife may have divorced him to get away from the war, but the three of us fought, we will not be cowards now. We will not hesitate from taking care of our family."
"Harry James Potter is not our family," Robert said harshly. "Malcolm and I have our real children to consider."
Malcolm raised his voice for the first time, if only a little, "Our children are all grown up, they can take care of themselves. Hell, mine are in America. If the Dark Lord does come back we would stand against him again. Harry staying with us does not change that."
"So you're just going to fuel Minerva's fantasy that she can be a mother, decades after losing her husband?"
"She doesn't need a husband, Rob, Minnie is more than capable of taking care of a child on her own, besides she has me."
"This is a fool's mission."
"No, little brother, this is taking responsibility." Professor McGonagall said, "I loved James Potter as if he were one of my nephew, and now I will love and raise Harry as my own son. Whatever challenges arise, I will never abandon him."
There was a long silence, and Harry clung to the rail, his stomach in knots, hoping against hope that this family would accept, that they would want him.
"Fine, fine," Robert said, "but I warn you, big sis, you may be a professor, but being a mother comes with it's own difficulties."
"Oh shove it," Malcolm said, his tone remarkably lighter, "Minnie helped raise us, there isn't much she can't handle."
"Harry stays," Professor McGonagall said. "We are his home and his family, nothing else matters."
Harry slowly went back up the stairs, curling back up in his bed, in his room, in his home, and cried himself back to sleep. The tears were silent and as much as he was relieved and happy, he was als hurting. Hurting because for once in his life their were people who were willing to care for him and he had never believed that was possible. Hope was a double edged sword, for Harry his future was brighter than it had ever been, and yet he had so much to lose.
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AN: Poor Harry, very overwhelmed, Minerva didn't lie but she did hold back because the culture shock is enough without bringing Harry to London. Please review?
Disclaimer: JKR owns her creations.
Chapter 3 - Dark Lords
I am the author who wrote Harry Potter and the Tabby Cat, I gave myself permission to rewrite my own story. That's what reboot means. The beginning will be much the same, the rest will be much improved. Please enjoy and don't report me for editing my own work.
Harry got up early and crept down stairs. The dogs stayed in bed, surprisingly considering they were herding dogs. They rolled into the warm spot Harry had left behind, Apollo, artlessly sticking his fuzzy legs in the air.
Harry looked in the fridge, finding eggs, bread, and bacon. He made scrambled eggs and French toast, leaving the bacon for last as the smell always woke people up. He started the water for tea before putting the strips onto the sisling pan. The small, old fashion kitchen, which also served as the dining room, was a comfortable space, and far more welcoming than the Dursleys. Harry liked the view out of the windows, instead neighbors their were mountains. Although it wasn't sunny, the clouds were closer to the ground here and had their own sort of wild beauty.
Professor McGonagall was the first down the steps, her hair in a long braid over one shoulder. She stared at Harry.
"Minnie? You didn't have to cook-" Malcolm's warm voice cut off when he joined his sister in staring at Harry.
A heavy pair of footsteps proceeded the arrival of a shorter man, who had the good looks his brother might have had. Harry thought that this must be the Robert he had not met yet. He gaped at Harry when he came even with his siblings.
"Um," Harry started, "I made breakfast, I hope that's okay?" He was seriously worried he had made a major faux pas.
Malcolm was the first to recover, "Of course, it is alright, you just surprised us is all." He walked forward and took a seat at the table.
"You didn't have to cook, Harry," Professor McGonagall said softly.
Harry was pleased that she didn't use his surname. "It was my pleasure."
"Harry, this is my younger brother Robert McGonagall, he steps by to visit every now and then."
Harry nodded to the man who a rather stiff, "Hello."
Finishing cooking the last of the bacon, he brought the plate to the little table, sitting across from the professor and beside her two brothers. It was a small table and Harry felt dwarfed by the taller people, well Robert wasn't tall but he was still heavily built. If Malcolm had impressive muscles than Robert must be ripped.
Breakfast was slightly awkward. Although they all complemented Harry on his cooking skills and thanked him for both the meal and tea, it was clear that none of them knew quite what to do with Harry.
Going with the assumption that these people wouldn't hate questions on principle, Harry broke the ice by asking, "So, um, Malcolm, er what do you do?"
Malcolm swallowed his bite of French toast and answered in a rumbling yet kind voice, "I am a Metal-Charmer, blacksmith, and not a half bad jeweler. I am one of the few people come to when they want metal objects charmed by government standards. I have a big business in charming snitches for Quidditch games."
"What is Quidditch, exactly, I get that it's a sport but-"
All three McGonagall's tried to answer at once. They laughed at each other and then Robert spent the next half an hour explaining the rules of the game while Professor McGonagall and Malcolm added in more colorful descriptions.
Harry was rept and very sad to hear that first years were not allowed their own brooms.
"But that doesn't mean you can't learn to fly before you go to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said.
Malcolm grinned, "Our mother was a captain of her team, she taught Minnie and Minnie taught us. She's a great teacher."
Harry turned to her with hope filled eyes and her lips curled into a smile, "Of course, I'll teach you. But James was captain in his own time, I believe your father had you zooming around the house at a year old on a toy broom. Much to your cat's displeasure."
Malcolm leaned over to whisper conspiratorially, "Minnie is a cat whisperer."
Professor McGonagall must have heard but to Harry's surprise she didn't refute him.
"You're knew me when I was a baby?" Harry asked.
"Of course, I used to visit often. Seeing you was a welcome respite during the war. You used to live in Godric's Hollow. You're house was magically roped off so no one lives their to this day."
"Where's Godric's Hollow?"
"Your aunt never took you to see your parents graves," she asked but it was truly a statement.
Harry shook his head.
"Well, we will have to change that."
Harry didn't smile as his insides did a funny little lerch, at once pleased and saddened.
"Speaking of things that should be done," Malcolm said. "May I see your glasses, Harry."
Nodding Harry pulled off his sellotaped glasses and handed them over. He couldn't help but squint in a useless attempt to see. Vaguely he was able to make out the shape of two glasses, the one that was his had white blur between the black blurs.
There was a spark of light and Malcolm handed Harry back a pair glasses without sellotape. They fit perfectly and were at once more sturdy and lighter. The style was the same though.
"I charmed that last night, anti-break charm, self-cleaner, and anti-elements charm. So rain, fog, and snow shouldn't bother you."
This time Harry did grin, "Thank you!"
"You are most welcome. I can change the style if you would like me to?"
"No thanks, these are great!"
"The day is a bit chilly but that never stopped my mother and it should not stop us either," Professor McGonagall said, "I think it is fine day to fly."
Harry's smile was so bright he thought he might break his face.
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"Now, hold your hand out and say up," Professor McGonagall said.
But Harry didn't need to say 'up' because the moment he held out his hand and imagined the broom flying upwards to meet his hand, it did.
"Well done, Harry," she said. "Now mount the broom like thus and-"
And Harry was up in the air, at first levitating and the next, he was soaring between the mountains. The misty air was cool against his skin. Professor McGonagall caught up with Harry easily. For a moment he thought she would tell him to slow down, but she didn't. She motioned him to follow her into a dive towards the lake. Harry's dive was steeper and pulled up later than she did whooping with joy.
The professor laughed. Together they spent a few hours speeding around the humanless mountainsides. They only stopped at lunch. Harry's legs felt like jelly and the ground felt extraordinarily hard.
He didn't like flying, he loved flying.
A little breathless Professor McGonagall walked beside, "Your father would be so proud, I think you might even be the better flyer."
Harry's chest swelled, "Thank you so much, Professor McGonagall, for everything."
She smiled at him, "At school it will have to be Professor but here at home and in private, please call me Minerva."
"Thanks Minerva," Harry repeated.
He had never been happier in his entire life, so it was only reasonable that his happiness be clouded.
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After lunch, which Malcolm had prepared, Minerva sat Harry down on the couch. She handed him his Hogwarts letter.
Harry was somewhat astonished to see it not only addressed to him but that his 'Cupboard Under the Stairs' was mentioned. How had they known?
Even though he knew the contents of the letter, he was still pleased beyond measure when he opened the letter welcoming him to the prestigious school.
He was going to make not only his parents proud but the entire McGonagall. He would prove to them and himself that he was not a waste of space and even if he wasn't the smartest or most talented, he would be one of the hardest working students.
Harry felt a little perturbed by the supplies list, however, he knew Minerva would insist on buying these things for him, the idea made him queasy. He didn't like being dependant on other people, it felt like he was taking advantage of their kindness.
It was this thought that finalized his resolve, he would be grateful for everything he was given and he would uphold himself to the highest standard.
"We will go to London tomorrow to pick up your supplies, but there is something you need to know before we go to the wizarding world," Minerva said.
"What's that?" Harry asked.
"Well, the Dark Lord, as I have told you, terrorized our world and the muggles both, for years there was nothing but odd deaths, disappearances, and people turning on one another. There are three specific curses that are not just Dark Arts, but considered unforgivable. Just using any of the Unforgivables is enough to sentence you to prison, our jail is called Azkaban. There is the Imperius Curse, which can force a person to do anything, the Cruciatus Curse, which can torture a person into insanity, and the Killing Curse, which causes instantaneous death. None of these curses have contercurses, your only hope against them is to dodge them, although there are some who have enough strength of will to throw off the Imperius Curse. The Killing Curse has never failed when it hits its mark, that is until you."
Harry just stared at her, "What?"
"The scar on your forehead-"
Harry's hand flew up to touch the lightning scar mark.
"When the Dark Lord cast the Killing Curse on you-"
Chilling laughter surfaced from his memory and a bright green light.
"-you survived, and inexplicably all you received was that scar. What's more the curse seems to have rebounded, it destroyed the house and the Dark Lord disappeared, seemingly defeated. People came out of transfers and we began the long road to recovery. Your name is known throughout the magical world, they call you the Boy Who Lived. You are quite famous."
"But- but- I was a baby? I didn't do anything, I thought you said it was my mum who-"
"I believe it was your mother who defeated the Dark Lord. I truly believe that Lily was dabbling in some very old forms of magics and that whatever she enacted before her death is what stopped He Who Must Not Be Named. But as there was no body, well, it is a mystery as to what exactly happened. The facts are that you survived the Killing Curse with only a scar and the Dark Lord was not seen after that night."
"But people think I beat him?" Harry repeated. "That baby-me took out the Dark Wizard who murdered my parents and now I'm famous?"
"Yes."
Harry had no desire whatsoever to be famous, least of all for the night his parents died. He thought of a lot of things to say but finally settled on, "That's stupid."
Minerva's lips twitched, "Perhaps, but then just surviving the Killing Curse would have made you famous. I think you will find that our world, close-knit as it is prone to obsessing over rumours."
"Is- is it going to be hard for me to make friends because of this fame?"
Her face turned even more solemn, "It might make things either."
Harry frowned, "Not real friends."
"Finding true friends is a lifelong journey, Harry. The biggest warning to you would be mindful of your words and actions for they will have more weight than you might think. People will hear you-"
"And be watching me," Harry said, in an almost disgusted tone.
Malcolm walked in then with tea, "Not a fan of being famous then?"
Harry crossed his arms, "I didn't do anything to earn being famous for except surviving my parents murder."
Minerva got up and knelt by Harry's chair, taking his hands in hers, "You listen to me, young man. Your parents loved you. They adored you, you were their entire world. Had they survived and you died, it would have destroyed them. Don't you ever feel guilty for what they did that night, because I know they would have endured far worse to see you safe."
"I wish I could have known them," Harry said softly.
Minerva wrapped her arms around him, "I know."
Harry hugged her back. Malcolm rubbed his back as Harry cried for the things that would never be.
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The next morning, Malcolm and Harry cooked breakfast together. Robert had only been visiting and had returned to his own home in Britain. Malcolm, Minerva, and Harry set off for London together. They apperated, still not one of Harry's favorite things.
Harry never been to London before, but he found himself too see the wizarding world than to look at the muggle city. They entered a bar that no seemed to see.
It was early, as in seven in the morning, so only the bar keep whose name was Tom and a tired old women in the corner where there when they entered.
Tom leapt over the bar to shake Harry's hand, and Harry was glad for the lack of people.
Diagon Alley was wondrous. Harry craned his head around his tall guardians, as they seemed to be guarding him on either side. Shopkeepers seemed to be just opening their doors and the hand full of witches and wizards -dressed in robes and pointed hats, were in too much of a rush to pay Harry any mind.
The first shop they entered was the book store. A store Harry could have spent a lifetime in. He wanted to know it all, he read the titles and was fascinated by everything. Minerva efficiently searched the shelves for the required books while Malcolm followed Harry around, helping to pick out extra books for reading.
Malcolm didn't let Harry pick out any extra books about Charms or Transfiguration, as there were plenty back at home for him to borrow, but Harry did end up getting a book on Defendable Defences: DADA in Practicality for Beginners, Potions and Herbology Theory: Where the Two Meet and An Illustrated Guide to Beasts Most Fantastic. Both books had detailed drawings and little paintings that could move.
Next Harry was fitted for his robes, then they went to the apothecary. Harry ogled the different plants and ingredients. He thought that if he were lucky that potions might be a lot like cooking, and he didn't imagine many eleven years knew how to make a three course meal on their own.
Ollivander's was interesting experience, the man didn't so much scare Harry as much as unnerve him. He felt rather defenseless under the man's peculiar gaze. Harry's nerves were not helped when wand after wand did not suit him. When the Holly Wand finally took a liking to him, Ollivander's tale about Voldemort disturbed Harry.
Holding the wand in his hand, he realized that Voldemort had once been like Harry was, just an eleven year old being chosen by a wand. But Harry would not become a monster, because Voldemort might have been a wizard but he sounded exactly the sort of people the Dursleys were. Small minded people who hated other people not like them. Harry would not judge people for how much wealth they had or for who their parents were.
The last store they went to was Owl Emporium. Harry walked through the cages and was instantly drawn to a Snowy Owl whose amber eyes connected with his emerald ones.
"She's a pretty thing, but Snowy Owls are a mean lot. Not many people bother with them. She's likely the smartest bird here but she will take your finger off as soon as look at you," the store owner said, seeing Harry standing beside the cage.
Minerva and Malcolm stood back, letting Harry decide what he wanted to do.
"Can I meet her?" Harry asked.
With a huge sigh, the blonde haired witch with calloused hands went to the cage, muttered, "Don't say I didn't warn you."
The moment the door was unlocked, the Snowy Owl swept out and found a perch on Harry's shoulder. She gave a gracious hoot and little nipped Harry's ear.
Malcolm chuckled, "That's a true familiar there."
Minerva smiled and handed the owner the galleons. "I still prefer cat's but Malcolm was right that an owl has more uses."
As they left, Harry watched his new familiar glare daggers at the owner, who glared right back. The Snowy Owl twister her head and won the staring contest. She seemed most proud of herself as the door shut behind them.
That night Harry named the owl Hedwig, from one of the tales he had found while reading his history textbook.
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The rest of the summer was sped by and was the best time in Harry's life. Malcolm and Minerva were not the loudest people but they so obviously cared for Harry that it was more than Harry had ever dreamt of. On his birthday, Malcolm baked him a real cake, double chocolate, and Harry received real presents. Malcolm had bought Harry a magical art kit, after he finished a drawing or watercolor painting he had only to spritz it with the little spray bottle that contained oil that made the artwork magical move. Minerva got him his own broomstick, which he was not allowed to bring to school but was faster than their spares, Harry spent many hours flying around with Hedwig gliding alongside him. Robert who had come to celebrate bought Harry a book about professional Quidditch teams, much to Harry's interest, highlighting foreign teams and schools. It was the best birthday ever.
Minerva had to leave two days ahead of Harry to prepare for the coming school year. Malcolm was the one to bring him to the station. With a warm hug, Harry was off, a pair of red haired twins helping him get his luggage up. Harry stuck the top half of himself out the window and waved wildly to Malcolm, who waved back, tall enough that he was nearly head taller than everyone else around him.
Harry's compartment did not stay empty for long.
"Move, this one-" Harry heard a voice demand, "We are not sitting with Malfoy, bad enough we had to be home schooled together. Let Crabbe and Goyle fluff his ass."
"Which one are you talking about you?" the second speaker had a heavy Irish lilt to his voice.
"The blonde one who sneers almost as much as you do," snapped the first boy. "Now get into this compartment."
"I asked for your help to get to the platform, I am fine to sit on my own."
"Do you argue about everything?"
"There is already someone in here," the second boy said when Harry's apartment door finally opened revealing, a dark skinned boy with closely cropped hair and a wiry boy with hair as dark as Harry's -albeit straighter and neater.
"Who are you?" demanded the boy who seemed to want nothing more than to be left alone.
"Harry Potter."
The boys exchanged a wary look.
Finally, the wiry boy said, "He isn't sorted yet."
Which seemed to decide the matter for them, and they took a seat opposite Harry.
The wiry one held out his hand, which Harry shook. "I'm Theodore Nott."
The second boy held out his hand which Harry also shook, "Blaise Zabini."
"Nice to meet yo-"
A blond hair girl yanked open the door, her expression cold, her grey eyes glacial. "Theo, thank Merlin," she took a seat beside Harry, waving her wand at her luggage and muttering a spell that levitated her bag to the luggage rack. "I thought I was going to have to sit the ride through with Pansy and Malfoy."
"Whose Malfoy?" Harry asked, impulsively.
Three disgruntled sounds answered him.
"Draco Malfoy is the only heir to the Malfoy line. Bastards where one of the few who didn't lose anything in the war," Theodore said harshly.
"He's insufferable," the blonde girl said. She turned to Harry then, "My apologies for forgetting introductions, I am Daphne Greengrass."
Harry shook her proffered hand, "Harry Potter."
Her eyebrows shot up, "I would not have thought you would share a compartment with these two then. Beautiful owl, by the way."
"Thanks," Harry said, not knowing how else to answer, but her comment finally clicked into place why these people had such odd reactions to him. Blood purity and 'lost in war', these were the children of people who had been on the opposite side of the war as Harry's own parents.
However, they didn't flutter and fall over themselves to get Harry's attention, like Harry had over heard the twin's family doing when they merely heard the rumour that 'The Boy Who Lived' was on the train. So it was with this in mind that Harry didn't get up, or say anything confrontational.
The first half of the train ride was spent in awkward silence. Theodore and Daphne seemed to know each other but didn't seem to want to talk with one another. Blaise looked out the window and Harry found himself doing the same, watching the landscapes unfold and change before his eyes.
At lunch, the four of them managed some conversation about their subjects. Potions theory seemed to hold everyone's attention the longest as well as Defense Against the Dark Art. The others seemed to be wary of Harry and Harry was glad that he had read his extra reading material to keep up with the conversation. They chatted lightly and before they knew it, they were pulling into Hogsmeade Station.
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Harry first look at Hogwarts was beyond his wildest imaginations. Their group of four road in a single boat and when the landed on shore Harry couldn't help be relieved to see Minerva's familiar face waiting for them. She didn't acknowledge Harry but for briefly meeting her gaze, but she had warned him that she couldn't give him special treatment in front of the other students.
The Sorting began and Harry didn't feel proticarily scared of which house he would be in, he was more worried if he would be sorted at all. What if the Hat decided that he didn't belong in any of them? Would Malcolm take him back or would they send them back to the Dursleys?
A Granger, Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor with the red haired twins who exploded with noise. The girl had very bushy hair and had spent her time before they were allowed into the halls muttering spells to herself. She must have thought they were going to face a monster or something.
Daphne was sorted into Slytherin, she walked like a queen to her throne as she approached her table.
Draco Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin too.
Theodore sighed heavily before also going up and being sorted into Slytherin.
Harry was surprised his legs would hold him when he went to go take his own place on the chair. Only the fact that Minerva was standing there kept his breath controlled.
The Sorting Hat descended on his head, "'Hmm. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?'"
Harry jumped at the foreign thoughts in his head, and he thought back carefully, just don't cast me out.
The Sorting Hat chuckled, Far too much magic in you to cast you out, Mr. Potter. How about a challenge? Slytherin would help you achieve greatness, merit of your own making.
Alright, Harry thought back, also thinking that his tentative friendships with the four others he had met on the train might become true friendships.
The Hat chuckled again, In the last few decades things have become screwed, but Slytherin is a house where lifelong friends are made. You may hear them called selfish but there is a reason why so many Slytherins make friends with the also loyal Hufflepuffs.
And with that last thought, the hat announced, "SLYTHERIN!"
The silence in the Great Hall was deafening, Harry was pretty sure everyone had stopped breathing. Minerva was the first to recover, lifting the Hat off Harry's head. She gave him a small smile. Emboldened, Harry stood and began to walk to his table.
The silence continued and Harry felt that the eyes on him were not friendly.
"We got Potter," an older Slytherin said softly, though his voice carried in the quiet.
One by one the Slytherins stood and began to clap, but it wasn't a ruckus applause, it deliberate slow clapping that might have followed a solemn speech. This confused Harry, and when he took a seat between Daphne and Theodore, he asked, "Why is everyone acting like someone died?"
Muttering and whispering had consumed the hall as the sorting continued.
Draco Malfoy drawled across from him, "Don't you know, Potter, this the Dark Lord's house"
"Oh," Harry said, lamely, then asked, "What does that matter? Wasn't he really old?"
Daphne coughed a laugh, "It matters because most of his followers came from this house too. That, as well as, the golden boy savoir ending up here will be soul crushing to some."
What Theodore said next made Harry realize how deep the hole was that he had stepped into, "And to others you'll be the up and coming next dark lord."
"Um-" Harry stuttered, feeling totally unprepared for the future ahead of him.
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KEYNotes: No Gringotts, no Weasley introductions,
Chapter 4 - Ripples
At the Head Table there were three very different wizards thinking the very same thing.
Harry Potter… in Slytherin? Harry Potter is in Slytherin!?
The first to think this was a man with a long silver beard whose plans for the future crashed around his ears. There would be no trusting Harry Potter, not if he was a Slytherin.
The next was a black haired professor who had been prepared to hate the James Potter's Spawn. The boy looked exactly like his father, but a bit smaller and even at distance, emerald green eyes, same as Lily Evans. But Harry Potter had none of his father's swagger and he had been sorted into Slytherin of all places. What was more the boy appeared to be politely talking to Nott's son. So no, Harry Potter was not -despite his looks, the devilish incarnation of his father.
The third and final professor to be so perturbed by Potter's sorting was a quivering shell of man. And it was a parasite's voice that whispered through his mind, Perhaps the boy can be used to our advantage, there is no reason to kill him quickly. Time is meaniless to an immortal.
It was these three men who would help shape Harry Potter's future… or destroy it.
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Tracy Davis's bed was on the other side of the room from Daphne's bed. They had been attached at the hip for years, however, last year Tracy learned a secret, a secret that she had let slip in front of Daphne's parents.
She is only eleven. She doesn't know who she is, her mother had said.
Her father had said nothing and hadn't said anything to Daphne, not directly anyway, in a year.
Daphne had lied and said it wasn't true.
The first time her father had spoken to her had been the night before coming to Hogwarts. He had laid out his ultimatum and Daphne had agreed, agreed to a lifetime of lies and misery so her father wouldn't treat her like a freak.
Needless to say, Daphne had ended her friendship with Tracy, getting into a screaming match to end all screaming matches that Tracy was a dirty little liar and it was she, not Daphne with a secret, with the problem, with the abnormality.
But of course, they were only eleven, and such things, well -they pass, and not all friendships were built to last. Or at least that is what Daphne told herself as she climbed into her four poster, ignoring the sniffling that came from the otherside of the room.
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Blaise watched Harry and Theo from the corner of his eye as he changed into his pajamas. Harry Potter was not at all what Blaise thought the boy would be. First, the boy was remarkably small, and not thin boned but as if he had been on the brink of starvation his entire life, until recently that is, as his skin had a healthy glow to it.
Aside from the other boy's appearance, Blaise had not expected the boy to be so… quiet, shy even. When he did speak it was not some bland response but either an insightful question or clever observation. But that had been on the train, at the table... Harry had obviously been raised by muggles, still, he wasn't stupid. He was interesting, and for Blaise, a boy who had had seven fathers and less than present mother, interesting was quite the achievement. Blaise thought he had seen it all, he only hoped Harry Potter wouldn't be another disappointment.
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Theo curled into bed grateful to be away from his father. Theo had been prepared to learn what he needed to survive and get the hell out of his father's clutches. He hadn't expected to make friends.
He hadn't expected to like or get along with anyone well enough at Hogwarts to want to make friends. But that was before sharing a caparement with the shy Boy Who Lived -of all people. Despite himself, Theo enjoyed Harry's company and even enjoyed Blaise's and Daphne's company. He had met Daphne before at parties and had met Blaise a couple of times a few years back when Blaise's mum had tried, succeeded, and abandoned courting his own father. Outside of the handful of meetings the three of them had no connection, not until the oddity that was Harry Potter appeared in their lives. Theo wondered if it would last or if Harry would turn out to be another power hungry leech.
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Harry wasn't sure what to think, but he thought he would like Hogwarts. The Slytherin dorm was underwater and their were merpeople swimming outside of his window, much to Harry's delight. Minerva was around if he needed her and Malcolm had promised to write him letters.
Closing his eyes, Harry hoped he would be accepted by his tentative friends and his merculuiar house. He didn't, however, waste a wish that the whole of Hogwarts would like him. If the reaction to his sorting had taught him anything, it was that Slytherin was not treated the same as the others. Which wasn't something new to Harry. All that really mattered to him was that Minerva approved of his sorting, and if Harry's godmother approved of a thing it was best to trust her instincts.
It was that thought that let Harry sleep easy.
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Daphne and Harry paired for potions as Theo and Blaise partnered a seat above them. Snape seemed to instantly dislike Harry but he didn't act on it. Professor Snape did pick on a boy name Neville Longbottom who had yet to memorize the textbook unlike his lab partner, the bushy haired girl who looked like she was about ready to fly out of her seat. Snape insulted her too.
Harry decided that he didn't like his Head of House much, but Potions as a subject was awe-some. It was like cooking -only instead of food it was magic. Daphne was a cool lab partner too, she had been trained in the subject before so she mostly held back for the easier steps so Harry could learn and practice, she gave pointers were needed. On her side of the equation she seemed to like not having to get her hands dirty. Though she would step in if Harry was about to mess up. It was a mutually beneficial partnership.
Another thing Harry didn't like about Snape was his special treatment towards Draco, which made the blonde boy even more insufferable.