Chapter 1: Pushing to the Limits
"No, the bus doesn't go to Slough!" the bus driver snapped irritably at the middle aged porky man. "What, can't you read? It's bound for Surrey!"
"Doesn't the 911 go to Slough?" the man asked again, frowning. "But I was certain it went there!"
Petunia Dursley snorted derisively. Where do all these idiots come from? For the past minute, this man had been arguing with the driver, saying that the driver himself, and all the passengers aboard had made the same mistake, and the bus wasn't supposed to be bound for Surrey. Petunia didn't like travelling by the bus, for this very same reason—she wasn't fond of associating with people who had mediocre tastes in life and possessed brains of a cow. She'd had enough travelling by bus as a university student, and after graduating, she rarely got into one. Why would she? They were a well to do family and owned two cars. One for her husband, Vernon, and one for her. However, luck didn't seem to be favouring her today, as just as she was about to drive to London for buying new clothes for her son Dudley (He was a growing boy and clothes needed to be bought nearly after every three months! Not that she would admit how he seemed to hardly grow in length, rather it was his width that grew in an alarming rate), her car engine it seemed, wasn't quite eager to start today. She'd thought maybe she'll get the car checked, and go to London the next day, but she'd already promised Dudley to bring him pizza. Not willing for her son to get upset, she'd decided she'd go by bus. It would be a bit of a work, but she would make her nephew carry all the load.
Her eyes drifted towards the boy sitting next to her with his hands clutching the handle of all the shopping bags under their seat.
Her nephew was just eight, and yet there was a striking resemblance between him and his father, James Potter, the handsome, tall man she'd first met on October 1978, when her sister Lily had first introduced him to their family. Petunia had been so jealous of Lily that day (not that she would admit it). Why was it that she always got what she wanted? Lily, the darling in her parents' eyes! How everyone would say she was a princess, with her fiery red hair and bright emerald green eyes! Always the brightest student during the entire span of her schooling, whether it be in primary school or that—freakish school she went to! And then she became a witch, and her parents couldn't stop swooning over her! When she'd turned seventeen she would perform all sorts of magic in front of her parents, and her parents would look at her with pride, adoration and awe. And then she became a cop in that freakish world, which was supposed to be the most prestigious position from someone from there! She got a rich, tall, and handsome husband who danced around her to please her.
And Petunia? She ended up with an obese man, twenty years older than her, and she became his perfect little housewife, like he considered every woman should be. Sometimes, she asked herself whether it was her obsession with being as normal as possible that led her to Vernon Dursley—
No! She reminded herself. She loved her husband very much, and couldn't be more proud of her son. They were a perfect and happy family of three.
Wait, three?
Yes, of course, how could she forget her nephew?
The moment she had taken the boy in, albeit reluctantly so, she knew he would be as freakish as his parents had been, and she wasn't wrong. Petunia knew that the amount of food they gave him, couldn't even be enough for a puppy, let alone a growing boy, and yet, he was tall for his age. He was thin, yes, but he wasn't malnourished, while they had expected him to be skin and bones. Vernon grew short tempered around the boy, and more than often he would take all his frustrations out on the boy with his belt. Petunia didn't protest. And yet, it seemed the boy healed overnight, and the only signs of the abuse he faced being the scars on his back, which wouldn't take a genius to figure that it was due to welts from a belt.
Vernon had told all their neighbours of how the boy's father was a nothing-to-do drunk, and Lily was a whore. They had died in a car crash, as they were too drunk to drive. The neighbours had considered them to be generous people who had given shelter to their delinquent nephew. Seeing their neighbours sneering and scoffing at the boy, while looking at her son with adoration, had given her a sadistic pleasure. They had told the same thing when the boy had joined primary school, and the teachers had assured them that they would take care of the nuisance.
As she looked at the boy, she felt another wave of anger course through her. His messy hair and face reminding him of his father. The lazy smile on James Potter's handsome face, and a tuft of his messy hair nearly falling to his eyes, paying little attention to the beefy forty year old man who was scowling at him, while leering at her sister. Lily Evans had ignored Vernon, perhaps because she didn't want to hurt Petunia. Then, her brown eyes found the emerald green eyes, and she quickly looked away. Every time she had looked at those eyes, her guilt seemed to consumer her. She tried to suppress the feeling of guilt within her. Those green eyes reminded her of her father, the same eyes which Lily had inherited. It didn't help that her sister had been given him their father's names. Maybe it was the reason why she didn't call him or even think of him by his name.
Those green eyes of Harry Potter reminded her of her father—Harry Evans.
When the boy had been small, he had been all for striving to gain the love of his aunt and uncle, like his cousin did. She remembered when he had first came with his perfect grades, grinning proudly at both of them. That had resulted in Vernon beating him, while he whimpered in a crumpled heap, and then thrown into the cupboard. According to Vernon, no one could do better than his son Dudley, least of all the little freak!
That was the last time he had tried to please them.
Yet, the boy always brought the perfect scores, knowing he would end up getting beaten by his uncle. It was as if the boy had understood, that his relatives loathed him, and perhaps it was a rebellious part of him that wouldn't bend to his uncle's wishes. The already strange things happening around him multiplied. Dudley's old clothes, which were like elephant skin on him, despite him being taller than Dudley, fit him perfectly the next day. The cupboard under the stairs which was coming out to be too small for him, seemed to have enlarged in the inside, even larger than Dudley's room, however it still appeared to be the small dark cupboard from the outside. She couldn't quite place it, but she knew it was his magic.
Petunia couldn't care less for the boy, but it made her wary of how an eight year old could accept the unfairness to his life. Yes, a part of her knew it was unfair of them to treat him like that. Sometimes when she pondered over the boy, it sickened her of how she was treating her own nephew. Perhaps, that was the reason why she tried to think of him as less as she could.
She tuned out of her thoughts and laid her ears on the conversation between the irritated bus driver and the delusional porky man.
"—you get down at the next stop and could take a bus from there", said the driver, with barely concealed irritation. "It'd be a two stop though—"
"But I'm in a—"
The porky man was interrupted as suddenly a woman cried out, "LOOK OUT!"
The brakes were forcefully pressed, and then she heard a 'BANG!' and the bus started going wobbly at a very high speed. There was a resounding crash from the frontal side of the bus, causing her head to hit on the seat in front of her. Her ears started ringing, and all she could do was try to hold on to the seat in front of her, as the sensation of free fall overtook her. The next she knew, the bus was surrounded all around by water. There was knee length water which had seeped inside the bus. The ringing in her ears stopped as she heard the screams of her fellow panicked passengers.
"BREAK THE WINDOW OR WE'LL BE STUCK!" a man yelled at the top of his lungs.
Amid the panicked noise, she could make out a thumping noise and then the sound of shattering glass. She turned towards the back of the bus. It seemed the person who had broken the window couldn't get out of the bus, because of the sheer pressure of the water entering. The water level inside the bus started rising at an alarming rate as people around her started screaming or wailing or crying. She tried to get up from her seat and move to the aisle of the bus, but her ankle got twisted and she cried out in pain, and thankfully she held herself to the seat which saved her from falling. She started crying silently, and in the meantime the water started rising above her waist. She looked out of the window, and saw that the bus was entirely submerged inside the river, lake or whatever it was!
The bus was too crowded, but she could make out most of the people huddled near the broken window of the bus, in a struggle to get out of the sinking vehicle. The water level rose rapidly and had crossed the chest level, and the panic among everyone was increasing at a rate faster than the water level inside the bus. People started crying even more as the water around the vehicle started getting darker, indicating the bus was sinking lower and lower. People started crying for God or any deity listening, to help them out of the situation. The water having nearly crossed her head, as she struggled to breathe knowing that probably she couldn't ever escape, she started crying, and hoped that there was some God or Power which could indeed help them.
The bus gave a lurch, however Petunia and the rest of the passengers stuck in the bus were more concerned about breathing, with the water level nearly touching the roof of the bus, as they gasped in as much of the air ,still in the bus, as they could. For a moment, it felt as if the bus was moving, but the vehicle now completely filled with water to the roof, Petunia thrashed about violently as all left of the air was gone. This was the end.
And then she could breathe again. The water level inside the vehicle started falling, and the darkness of the water vanished as she could make out the bus steadily rising out of the surface of the water. The bus was moving. The engine was gone surely, so how could a bus be rising out of the water like a submarine? It was as if the water itself was pushing the vehicle out of itself. The bus rose progressively, and water drained out of the vehicle. It was then she noticed that all the glass of the windows of the bus were gone! Shattered! People were gasping for breath as the water level now started falling down her tummy level. And then the rear side of the bus touched some ground. The bus was out of water, and rested on the bank of the river.
People started scrambling out of the bus, some crying, some thanking God, and some too shocked to say anything, Petunia being one of them. Petunia started looking around, and it was then that Petunia found a young boy dragging a man out of the lake, and rested him on the bank. The man was the bus driver, and the young boy was none other than her nephew.
When the green eyes of the boy turned towards her, she realised that the boy knew.
Harry Potter was six years old when he started hearing voices in his head, sometimes accompanied with flashes similar to a movie for a short while. At first, he had thought he was going mad, and the loud voices which overcame him inside his head nearly drove him so. It was like a continuous buzzing, and he wondered whether he had really lost his mind and gone insane, like his relatives claimed. It didn't take him much time to figure out that it was other people's thought that he could hear, and the flashes were nothing but people's first-hand memories, he was a smart kid after all. Telepathy, if he recalled correctly, was what it was called according to Dudley's favourite comic books. But he didn't want the continuous rumbling inside of his head for all of his life! And so he learned to tune them out. Yet, the occasional whispers in his mind and a few flashes continued.
It was however, not the first time that something weird had happened to him. The day before his first day of school, his aunt had shaved his hair bald, with only a patch of his bangs remaining to cover his scar. All he wanted was for his hair to grow back, and the next day, he had his wild untamed hair back. And then all the time he would heal overnight, even when his uncle went overboard with his beatings. The horrible teacher, who would always scowl at him like he was some piece of dirt ended up with her hair turned blue. The times when his uncle used to lock him up in his cupboard without food, the cupboard door used to magically open itself to allow him the pinch off some food from the kitchen. His cupboard, despite looking same from the outside, for some reason turned out to be more spacious than Dudley's room itself. And then he had been able to move things and float things. Telekinesis, he came to the conclusion.
As his telepathic power had developed, he had realised that his relatives were keeping him in dark of what he was actually capable of. Of who he really was. It was magic that he was capable of doing. And his parents weren't drunks who had died in a car crash. They were magical, and they had been murdered! When he had realised it, everything fit to the seven year old like a puzzle piece. At first, he had thought about confronting them about it; but then he had asked himself, 'Was it worth it?' He had known from his aunt's memories about magic his mother had known. Could he do magic as well as she did? He was curious about the wonders he could do with magic, and it came as a blessing to his cursed life. The clothes of his cousin, which were too many sizes large for him ended up fitting him perfectly. Perhaps, not as good as new, but those looked decent enough. He concentrated on moving things and being able to float things at will, while no one watched him, and he was successful in doing so, although it took him a few days to master.
Harry Potter had gone from being a weird kid with oversized baggy clothes to the tall kid, who was often complimented by his teacher to be brilliant and intelligent. Of course, Uncle Vernon wasn't happy with it, but he won't give his uncle the satisfaction of discouraging him from doing well, even if it meant getting welts on his back. However, the scowls from his neighbours who thought him to be a delinquent didn't go, even if he ended up popular in school. Sometimes, Harry wondered how thick could his neighbours be to take in whatever rubbish his relatives spewed about him. He had been living with the Dursleys since he was fifteen months old, and he was weirded about how could someone expect a toddler to have criminal tendencies. And it was not like he had done something. Ever.
Even though Dudley tried his best to scare away anyone from being friends with Harry, it went futile once he started befriending the boys who used to play football in the recess, and started playing with them. Dudley's gang were nothing short of coward bullies, and they didn't dare try to say something to them. A punch from Jason had been enough for them to weasel out. Soon, Harry had learnt to stand up for himself, and after a day where Dudley's gang had cornered him alone to beat him up, Harry had given them a piece of his mind. He could do magic, while they couldn't, and he could tell every step they would take a moment before it happening. That day, Dudley and Piers had been beaten to a pulp, while the others escaped. Uncle Vernon's beating had turned out to be second nature to him, and the satisfaction of beating Dudley was worth it. They had started clearing him off, and only resorting to spread lies about him to whom would listen to them. And who would listen to the gang which was notorious for bullying others?
Despite the wonders of magic he was capable of, never had he thought he could be capable of lifting a whole bus out of water. When the bus had started sinking, he knew he had to do something, and he knew that only he would now be able to do something for the people. It was the most peculiar yet wonderful magic that had ever happened around him. He had willed the water itself to push the bus out of itself, and he was surprised when he almost felt the water hum to him, but it wasn't that easy. He had felt the water communicating to him; a part of it wanted to swallow every person within the bus and claim their lives, and it had been a battle of wills among him and the element itself, and he had emerged victorious finally. The power rushing through him resulted in the most intoxicating feeling he had ever felt, a sensation he was not willing to let go. He had shattered the glass of all the windows of the bus, as it was rising, for the water to drain out easily. Once on the ground, he realised one of them was still underwater, and without thinking he had jumped into the water. He hadn't known how to swim, but the element itself was under his control, and it had pushed him towards the man who had been knocked out, and with a strength he never knew he possessed, he had dragged the man out of water. The bus driver was unconscious, but he was still alive. He had, albeit reluctantly, let go of the control of water through his magic, and breathed a sigh of relief. None of the people in the bus had any idea what had happened, or how it had happened. Except one. His aunt knew he had figured out about magic.
Neither his aunt, nor he had spoken a word to each other, since the accident. She had cried to Uncle Vernon on reaching home, about how scared she had been, while Dudley had continued wailing about not getting pizza. He knew what was going through his aunt on the realization that he had saved her life. She religiously started avoiding him from that day, until five days after the incident there had been a huge row between his uncle and his aunt. That day, Harry, for the first time in his life, had slept on a real bed.
Uncle Vernon had been unwilling at the prospect of giving him Dudley's second bedroom, but he had finally relented. It wasn't much—a bed, a dresser, and a simple chair and table was all the room had, but Harry had been overjoyed at finally being given a room. Dudley had thrown a huge tantrum, but expensive gifts and a week of Dudley's favourite cuisine being made were enough to keep him appeased for the time being.
After that particular incident, Harry had realised to his joy that magic knew no bounds, and he kept pushing himself to his limits. Sometimes it had ended up with him getting injured, like the time he had tried to fly, but other times he had discovered the beauties of magic. He could make fire appear out of thin air and hold it in his palms, yet it didn't hurt him. The fire had a thought process of its own, and he could feel it humming with the magic within him, and Harry contained it. It was the same exhilarating feeling he had felt while he had taken control over water, in a diminished level, but it was present. He had made his bed, table, and chair float and move around in his room without making any noise or hitting anything, and then return to the same position, as they were before. Harry had also stretched himself in his telepathic abilities, being able to read everyone's mind in his class at the same time. It had been a bizarre sensation, but he had gotten used to it. Most of the time, he tried to give a person the space they needed and not peak into others' secrets even though he could, but to test his powers he felt what he named as 'surface thoughts'. He had learnt all about magic and his mother as much as he could from his aunt's memories of her, because he knew his aunt never would directly tell him anything. Another surprise had been how he'd been able to learn French, the subject he'd taken as his second language, in just three classes of being with their French teacher Mr. Augustin. It had been a bit of a peculiar experience. Mind was, as he had concluded, composed of layers, and during that time he had taken in the ability to understand and comprehend French perfectly. Within a month, Harry had turned bilingual. Even Mr. Augustin had been surprised at Harry's understanding of French, and fluent ability to speak French, much so in an accent similar to Mr. Augustin's.
As time passed, Harry's control over magic grew. It came in more easily, and soon it turned into a reflex.
"Thirty six? ONLY THIRTY SIX!" screamed Dudley at his parents. "But last year it had been thirty seven!"
Harry rolled his eyes at his cousin's tantrum. It was Dudley's eleventh birthday, and little Diddykins found it unfair that he got only thirty six presents, seeing as last year he got thirty seven. And that wasn't all of it! They were also going to the zoo with Piers Polkiss, Dudley's best friend.
Although their initial idea was to have leave Harry behind while Mrs. Figg babysat him, which Harry would have been contended with. More than happy really. He had come to know that Mrs. Figg was a squib (or that's what she called herself) a person who didn't have magic, but had magical parents. Once he had revealed to her, quite inconspicuously, that he knew about magic, she finally introduced herself properly. She had told him that a dark witch named Voldemort (Harry had snorted at the name of 'Flight from Death'), and how she had killed his parents, and his miraculous survival that night on Halloween 1981. She had also explained to him about her followers, who were all Dark wizards and witches and called themselves the Death Eaters. She had told him about her brother who had gone to Hogwarts and used to work in the Ministry of Magic, however he had been killed by Death Eaters in 1977. They had formed a very special bond over time, but Harry of course didn't show it in front of his relatives.
Unfortunately for him however, Mrs. Figg had still not recovered from when she had broken her leg a week back (Dudley had crashed himself into her with his bike), Uncle Vernon wouldn't leave him alone at the house, and so they had decided upon taking him along with them.
"You forgot to count the one from Aunt Marge, dear", said Aunt Petunia, pointing at the one below the pile.
"Oh, thirty seven, then", said Dudley unsurely, scratching the back of his head.
"Atta boy, Dudley!" Uncle Vernon praised him, chuckling lovingly at his son. "He knows his worth, doesn't he? Say Dudley, how about we give you two more seeing as we are going to the zoo?"
Dudley brightened up, "Yes! Yes! YES!" and then his eyebrows stitched together in concentration, as if he was trying to solve a very difficult puzzle. "That makes it… Thirty… Thirty…erm…"
"Thirty nine, Dudders", said Aunt Petunia kindly, but Harry knew it was a very tight reply. She was disappointed in her son to be not even able to tell thirty-seven plus two is thirty-nine, but of course, she didn't voice her thoughts.
Harry shook his head at his cousin. Maybe all the fat was getting accumulated in his brains? Or maybe it was the Dursley gene of being a complete idiot. His uncle was one in most of the fields, however for some reason he did get his brains back when making business deals. All the bribery, false promises, tax evasion—they were illegal stuff, yes, but they didn't require any less brains.
"Don't burn the bacon, boy!" growled Uncle Vernon at Harry.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon", replied Harry monotonously. The Dursleys did love their greasy food. He allowed the bacon to absorb more grease (he was pretty sure neither Dudley nor Uncle Vernon would complain), and hoped the excess of grease made them sick. They barely paid attention to Harry (except the occasional glares he received from his uncle) as they went on about their plans for the zoo.
It was after everyone had finished having breakfast (Harry having taken his fair share away from the eyes of the Dursleys), and while Harry was laying the dishes to be washed later, when the bell rung, meaning Piers Polkiss had finally come.
Uncle Vernon had barked at him to hurry up with washing the dishes, while he had waddled to get his car started. Seeing that no one was near him, with a wave of his hand, the plates were scraped from the excess food (Dudley, even with the enormous amount of food he normally had, always tried to make sure that Harry could have as less food as possible, thus resulting him in so much left over, it could itself feed a person's tummy. He made sure no one ate that, by making it wet with his saliva, which would make a person impossible to have it), plates rinsed in soap water, and dried, at an unimaginable speed, and in a minute all dishes and cutlery were done.
Satisfied with his work, Harry proceeded to come out of the house, so Aunt Petunia could lock the door. It seemed that his aunt and Mrs. Polkiss were making small-talk, and as soon as Mrs. Polkiss saw him, she scowled at his direction. It took all of Harry's self-control to not show her the finger. Piers Polkiss, like his mother, scowled at him. Looking at the boy who was more than a head shorter to him, Harry gave him an evil smirk, washing the scowl from his face and a hint of fear crossed his eyes.
"The boy is going with you then?" said Mrs. Polkiss giving him a dark look. "See that he behaves, Petunia."
"I will if your son does", replied Harry coolly, and without waiting for any response, proceeded to sit on one of the back seats.
Without another word, everyone climbed into the car, Dudley and Piers talking excitedly about what they'd do at the zoo. Uncle Vernon however glared hardly at him, and Harry defiantly glared back. The journey to the zoo was uneventful, except of the occasional pinching from Dudley and Piers. Harry knew protesting would be fruitless, and so instead gave both of them a look which promised pain. Harry was hardly the person who began a fight, but he could get nasty, really nasty, if someone provoked him enough. Like the one time Piers had made a song making fun of Harry's parents by calling them vulgar names. The boy had to wear a sling around his arm for more than three weeks. And yes, he would teach that little piece of shit, how stinging a pinch can be. But, not now.
While on the way, Vernon complained about things, like he usually does—about people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the traffic on the road, and… did he mention Harry? He also complained about the bank, and of course… Harry. This time, he complained about motorbikes.
"Going around like a pack of hooligans…"
Harry had once dreamed about a flying motorbike, but after learning about magic he had wondered whether it was a dream or was it a far-away memory from when Harry had lived with his parents, around magic. If at some point Harry got hold of some money, he would buy a motorbike. The idea of wind coursing through his hair really appealed to him. From what his Aunt knew, Harry's parents were wealthy. But what had happened to the money? Was it kept out of his reach until he could reach his majority on his eighteenth birthday? But if that was true, who would pay for when he had to go to the magic school his mother had gone to? Would he have to take loan in some magic bank, till the time he got hold of his money? Mrs. Figg hadn't told Harry anything about that.
It had taken about forty minutes for them to reach the zoo, and as soon as they had, Dudley had thought he would look smart by shoving Harry, and running away once they got off the car. The idea had been running in his cousin's mind for about ten or so minutes, and Harry had merely sidestepped his cousin, when Dudley attempted do so.
It had been less than ten minutes into the zoo, and Dudley had started groaning in boredom. It seemed watching animals in a cage wasn't as exciting as Dudley thought it would be. He had come to a zoo before, hadn't he? He hadn't liked it then too. So why did the whale think he would like the zoo more this time?
Oh yeah, he had almost forgotten. Mindy Spears, the girl Dudley had a crush on, had been gushing about her trip to the zoo a week ago. And so Dudley thought, automatically he should develop a liking for the zoo too. It was funny, and Harry had shook his head at his cousin when he had learnt of Dudley's thought process.
"Hey! Look, Dudley! That bird looks funny!" exclaimed Piers Polkiss in an attempt to cheer Dudley up. Dudley was the leader of their little gang of miscreants, who were also cowards. And like any gang, it was their job to keep the leader entertained.
"Boring!" drawled Dudley. "MUM! Can I get some ice cream?"
Harry blinked.
It hadn't even been an hour since their breakfast, not to mention how much food Dudley had consumed, and he wanted ice cream now?
He had known his cousin for ten years, and he still continued to surprise him.
So after a triple scoop ice cream for Dudley, Aunt Petunia suggested that perhaps the Reptile Section would interest him more.
The dark room which housed the reptiles, all of which were dozing off now, didn't hold much promise of exciting Dudley, according to Harry. And he was proven correct, when the boa constrictor, which happened to be largest snake, paid little attention to Dudley yelling it to move or Vernon rapping his knuckles on the glass in which the snake was encased, and Dudley proceeded to groan in irritation and declare out loudly how the zoo was a 'tosh place'.
Harry didn't know what made him do so, but as soon as his relatives and Piers had moved off, Harry had leaned on the railing by the glass box in which the boa constrictor was residing, and spoke, "People are mental, right?"
The snake which had been dozing off, had suddenly snapped open his eyes, and looked at Harry interestingly, peering his head in an appraising manner. "True", it had replied.
Harry's eyebrows had shot up and threatened to disappear to his hairline. "You… can… talk?"
"Of course, I can talk human!" the snake said. "It is I, who is surprised to find a human talk."
"I…why won't I be able to talk?" asked Harry, when a scenario dawned on Harry. "Or am I talking in your language, is what makes it different?"
"Humans always make strange noises", explained the snake. "You are the first of the humans to speak."
Definitely it's some snake language. But how did he know this language? It was almost like him talking or deducing what someone said in French? Was it some kind of magic?
"Erm, it was…nice talking to you", said Harry.
"Likewise, human", said the boa constrictor. "It gets very boring and tedious in here, you know. The other snakes rarely speak to me, as they consider me to be a freak to be bred in this place itself, by humans. And you are the only human that can speak."
"Right, I should—"
"Are you talking to the snake?" a voice asked causing Harry to look up at a young woman, who was peering at him curiously. It seemed she had noticed the whole conversation between Harry and the boa constrictor.
"Erm, no…I mean, yes I was just…trying to just see if it, er, understands…"
"You understood everything the snake said to you?" she cut across him. For some reason, he had a feeling that the woman was trying to find something, as her blue eyes met his green. After a moment her eyes widened a fraction.
There was something off about the woman. She was perhaps the first person whose mind Harry wasn't able to read. At least not as clearly as he was able to read others. Just a single word he could gather from her.
Parseltongue.
But as soon as he did, it seemed the woman had completely disconnected any connection Harry had felt within her mind. It was forceful, and it also indicated that she was aware of what he had been doing.
"Dudley! Mr. Dursley, look!" screamed Piers excitedly, breaking the shocked exchange between Harry and the woman. "Look at what Harry is making the snake do!"
Suddenly, Harry was shoved quite hard crashing into the woman, causing both to nearly fall to the ground, but it seemed the woman had steadied herself by holding onto the railing next to the exhibit, while her other hand caught Harry's back to prevent him from losing balance.
"Move it freak!" cried Dudley as he proceeded to bang his huge hands on the glass box in which the boa constrictor was contained. "Hey! Do that again!"
The snake looked at Dudley irritated, and hissed, "Annoying humans!" after which it lowered its head and coiled around to fall asleep.
"DON'T SLEEP!" yelled Dudley, banging on the glass box furiously.
The woman let go of Harry and marched near to Dudley, caught his chubby hand as he was about bang on the glass again, and threw it aside. The woman looked furious, and Harry could swear that for a moment, her eyes turned scarlet. "What d'you think you're doing, you obese lump?"
Almost in an instant, Dudley looked frighteningly at the young brown haired woman. "I-it wasn't me!" said Dudley. "It was him! I swear it!" Dudley pointed accusingly at Harry. Harry had to resist rolling his eyes at the stupidity of his cousin. His relatives put up with Dudley blaming Harry for his misdeeds, but the rest of the world weren't as blind to Dudley's actions as his parents were.
"Sure it was kid", said the woman sarcastically, sneering at him. "Pushing people around and behaving like a Neanderthal! What you want a permanent residence in the zoo?"
"Don't talk to my son like that!" snapped Uncle Vernon, as he had waddled near Dudley and Piers. "And let go of him!"
The woman let go of Dudley's hand who ran behind his father and took cover.
"Do you know we are respectable people of high social standing? I am the Director of a drill company and you will not talk to my son like that or insult him!" snarked Uncle Vernon, leering at her. "There's always good-for-nothing people trying to put respectable men in trouble."
"Well, well, well, I should apologise to your son", said the woman coolly. "What can I expect from the son of a man, who is more interested in leering at my breasts?"
Vernon spluttered, but recovered with saying, "Look here, you hussy—"
However, Vernon suddenly noticed that a lot of people were staring at him, looking at him disapprovingly.
"Come on Dudley, Piers, let's get out of this place", said Vernon. "It's a good for nothing zoo with third rate animals, and no-good people. And you also come along, boy!" Vernon turned his attention to Harry. "Or we'll leave you here, and they'll put you in one of the exhibits."
The three kids followed Vernon, and Dudley, being as mature as he was, stuck his tongue out at the woman, and pretended gagging at her face. The woman ignored Dudley, instead she glanced interestedly at Harry, who looked at her with something akin to respect for standing up to his uncle.
Once reaching home, Vernon had expressed his displeasure by slapping Harry a few times and threatening him (nothing out of the ordinary), leaving a bruise at the place where his uncle had hit him. But Harry was used to it by now, and he knew the bruise would be gone by the next day.
With their primary school over, Uncle Vernon had declared that Dudley would be going to Smeltings, the same place where Vernon had done his schooling, and Harry would be going to Stonewall, the local public school. This had caused Aunt Petunia to look at him warily, because she knew that Harry was aware of magic, although she had never talked to him about it. So, it wasn't to Harry's surprise when there had been another argument between his uncle and aunt that night, which ended with—
"BOY! GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!"
Not eager to test Uncle Vernon's mood, Harry had quickly come downstairs to the living room, where Aunt Petunia sat with a sombre look and Uncle Vernon sat fuming, his face resembling a tomato, and a vein throbbing in his forehead.
"You… You… know about this… your freakishness?" said Vernon, punctuating each word with barely concealed rage.
"Yes, I do know about magic", replied Harry calmly.
"DON'T USE THAT WORD HERE, FREAK!" yelled Vernon, his face now a brilliant shade of violet. Vernon was breathing heavily. "Who… who…told you?"
"Mrs. Figg", said Harry simply, and for that moment, Vernon's face returned to normal, as this was not obviously the reply he was looking for. Aunt Petunia stared at him in shock, while Vernon kept looking around as if expecting Mrs. Figg to pop here at any moment.
Harry sighed, "Mrs. Figg is from the magical world", he explained, ignoring how his relatives flinched at the word 'magical'. "She was born to parents with magic and is aware of it, but she doesn't have enough magic within her. She is friends with the person who brought me here, who I guess is also the Headmaster of the school. They've been keeping an eye on us throughout."
Vernon and Petunia paled, and it didn't take a telepath to figure out what they were thinking.
"No, she doesn't know about the abuse you put me through", said Harry, before they could say anything. "She knows however much she sees, but let me tell you, despite not knowing about the Cupboard under the stairs or the belt which you use in hopes to beat the magic out of me, she doesn't hold very high esteem for you. The lies you tell about my parents because of your petty jealousy—"
"Listen here, boy—"
"No, today you will listen to me, Vernon!" hissed Harry in cold fury. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped drastically, and even Vernon had shivered, as if he a chill had run down his spine. The various items in the living room were shaking, and the light kept on flickering. Throughout his life, he had accepted what his relatives had put him through, because he knew he had nowhere to go. But he knew that the magical school would come for him, even though Harry was perhaps far behind in his magical studies, but he knew they would come. And he would finally have a place among people like him. A place where he wasn't considered a freak. And this would be his day! "You think you will not send me to the school? They would make sure I do get to have my say, and you damn bet I would have my say. You've spread lies about my parents! You've starved me, abused me! You won't be able to bribe in the magical world, Vernon, so don't let me tell them what kind of a monster you are. You think I am gullible enough to believe that the way you treat me is how children are treated? Is this how my grandparents treated my mother, Aunt Petunia? Locking her in a cupboard and treating her like vermin when she figured about magic?"
Aunt Petunia whimpered in fear as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Vernon was pale, and for the first time in his eyes, he saw fear.
"When they come to take me to the magic school, I will go there", declared Harry, as if daring Vernon to challenge him. "And from now on, if you even touch me…I have enough scars in my back to prove myself when the authorities come. Try to kill me?" Harry snorted to himself. "Well, good luck with whatever the magical people do to you."
The objects stopped rattling and the flickering of the light ceased, the temperature around them was however as cold as ever. This time Harry spoke calmly, in a rather diplomatic manner. "Look at the pros, however. You won't have tolerate me for 10 months."
"And…and you think… we… we will pay for some crackpot having to teach you?" said Vernon finally, however in a shaky voice.
"I'll take a loan if need be until the time I'm eighteen", said Harry coldly. "I'd just stay for two months a year until then, and you've made me work like a slave enough as it is. Anyways, you wouldn't want me tell the police about the scars on my back that look surprisingly like a welt from a belt? Or what lies under the floor board of your room and behind the bathroom tiles of the first and second floor of your office? Despite you being a director, your shareholders and owner would be very disappointed, won't they? And of course, if you kill me, Mrs. Figg will automatically know to give a letter specifying all this to the police. She hasn't read that yet, but she will if something happens."
Harry smiled at satisfaction at his uncle whose face was a white as a sheet of paper. Petunia listened to their conversation in shock. It was clear she didn't know about Vernon's tax evasion, and removal of money which the investors had invested in to the company. Of course there was no letter with Mrs. Figg, but Vernon didn't need to know that. He was playing a dangerous game, and he had been preparing for this moment for some time now. He could've blackmailed Vernon before, but Vernon might've found a way to weasel out of the situation, and even do something to Harry while Harry had yet to spend more than two or three years with his relatives. The timing was best now.
"I could very well have asked you to pay my whole tuition", said Harry. "But I won't. All it's gonna take is two months a year of both of us tolerating each other, till I'm eighteen. I'll do my chores like I usually do while I'm with you, and may even join somewhere with part time job once I'm back next year."
Vernon was swallowing every information. Harry had managed to scare him, and the proposition wasn't exactly too bad for his choices, the blackmail excluded. Harry could see the clogs in his uncle's mind turning as he weighed his options, which were albeit limited.
"Do what you want", Vernon had grunted. "But you would do no…freakishness here. Do whatever you want outside my house—I. Don't. Care." Suddenly, Vernon had a maniacal grin on his face. "But what if they don't come and you're not accepted in that school of yours? Do you know enough about whatever freakishness the school would teach you? What if you are not qualified enough? I can't imagine them asking you math or science."
"Don't worry", said Harry coolly. "I will be."
Despite the confidence which Harry had shown Vernon, he couldn't deny Vernon had raised an excellent point. From his aunt's memories he knew there was some Snape boy who had told all his mother needed to know about magic. But he didn't know anyone who could help him, and Mrs. Figg despite being from that world, didn't have magic within her. What if they deem him unworthy to be accepted in the school with how much he was capable of doing at this point? Harry knew he could do pretty cool stuff, and had lifted a whole bus out of the water. But he bet the others his age knew loads and loads more than he did. Harry kept pushing himself to his limits, since the time he had been aware of his powers. But perhaps everyone his age could do these stuff since they were kids. Harry considered himself the most powerful with telepathy among his other powers, but the woman in the zoo (and he was sure she was magical) had not let him enter her mind. He knew he had just heard one word, but after that nothing. It meant that the brown haired woman was a telepath too. Perhaps all magicals were. But Harry would keep on hoping he'd be able to get accepted. He could do a lot of things, but would they be enough? Even if he got selected, what if he fell behind because of not being able to cope up?
With these thoughts running inside his head, Harry had let sleep take over him.
Three weeks had passed since their conversation and still there had been no correspondence from the magic school. Harry was fearing whether they had declared him to not have the competence enough to be part of the school. Since the past week, Vernon had taken up the habit of asking him every day about his school, and whether or not they'd forgotten about him. What if they had indeed?
The Saturday morning brought about a good weather in Little Whinging, and it did help to elevate the mood of the people. People started planning outings with the advantage of the weather, while children had decided to enjoy themselves by playing in the park with their friends. Privet Drive in Little Whinging, housed almost identical dwellings and they prided themselves for being the most normal people which could be seen in perhaps the whole of Great Britain. Most residents had their breakfast almost at the same time. It was at eight o' clock, when most of the street were busy having their breakfast in their respective home, when a 'pop' sounded across the street and an elderly woman with salt and pepper hair tied neatly in a bun, and wearing a business suit, had seemed to appear out of nowhere.
She had looked around to see whether anyone had noticed her inexplicable appearance, and being content that she had succeeded in arriving inconspicuously, she marched to the door of Number four. Pressing the door bell, a device which enabled people inside a dwelling to know that someone was waiting outside, she tugged at her suit to straighten it out.
The door opened to reveal a horse faced woman, whose neck appeared to be a bit longer than usually seen.
"Ah, you must be Petunia", said the elderly woman, in a Scottish accent. "I'm Minerva McGonagall—"
"You're from the school, aren't you?" asked Petunia, interrupting the woman. "You had come to tell Lily about…her…her nature."
Minerva McGonagall refrained from expressing her displeasure by being interrupted, as it was unusual for someone to do so.
"Yes, Mrs. Dursley, I am the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I am here to accompany Mr. Potter for his school shopping, should he wish to attend Hogwarts that is, and explain to him about our world and his standing. Would you let me in, so it would be easier for me to explain?"
"Y-yes…come…come in", said Petunia, standing aside to let the elderly woman enter.
The house was too…bland in taste, in Minerva's opinion. She had been to other houses of muggles (non-magical, that is), while introducing muggleborn (magical children born out of non-magical parents) students to the world of magic, and it seemed this house was made by a person who wanted nothing out of the ordinary in their lives. The walls were adorned by pictures of a rather…healthy looking child (obese would've been a more appropriate term, and then also it would be putting it lightly) and their family. There was also a man in the picture who looked like a much older counterpart of the child (the man appeared to be fatter than a walrus), albeit with brown hair instead of the child's sandy coloured one. For a moment she was horrified at the prospect of Harry Potter being as obese as the father-son duo, and tried to spot a black haired child among the pictures, but she found none.
"Please…" Petunia motioned to a door, which Minerva considered to be the living room of the house, and she was proven to be correct when she did enter the room. There were more pictures of the family of three, and Minerva wondered whether a fourth occupant even resided in the house.
Minerva sat on one of the sofas, when Petunia spoke, "I'll…I'll call him."
Minerva nodded and watched as she left the room, leaving Minerva to look around the room. She had observed these people throughout a day ten years back, and wondered whether they had changed, but seeing the pictures, she thought not.
"Erm, ma'am?" a voice broke her out of his musings, a voice which seemed all too familiar to her. She turned towards the doorway, and was shocked to find James Potter standing there. But when she thought about it clearly, she arrived to the conclusion that this must be Harry Potter. The striking resemblance between James Potter and the boy was uncanny (she was relieved that the boy had a thin build, not unhealthily thin though, very much unlike his cousin). The boy was albeit taller than what James Potter had been when he was of this age (perhaps a tad taller than Bill Weasley had been as an eleven year old, who had easily been the tallest in his year), and the boy didn't wear glasses. It seemed he hadn't inherited the awful Potter eyes, like James or Fleamont Potter had, but he did have the famous Potter messy hair (which always gave her an urge to comb it, but she knew it would be of no use, maybe it was some curse on their family). The only difference other than that, were his eyes. Those were the emerald green eyes of Lily Evans.
She realised that she had been staring at Harry for quite some time. She smiled at the boy and said, "You must be Harry. You must forgive me, but you look so very much like your father, except your eyes. They are your mother's." She turned to Petunia. "Won't your husband—"
"He's busy at the moment", said Petunia, almost too quickly. "You can…can talk to me and the boy is here…"
"Very well", said Minerva, deciding not to broach the subject. "Both of you may sit…"
Harry took a seat opposite to Minerva's, while Petunia sat on a love seat farthest to hers.
"I am Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress and the Transfiguration professor of Hogwarts", said the older woman. "I trust you have heard about Hogwarts?"
"Not much really, professor", said Harry, and Minerva was pleased that he had took upon the indication to call her by her designated title. "I just know that, erm, it's a magic school and my parents went there."
Minerva sighed. "I didn't expect you to know more than that", she said to the boy. "You were after all raised by muggles, non-magical people that is."
"Anyways, as you know magic does indeed exist, Hogwarts is perhaps one of the most, if not the most reputed magical institution there is, and I do not speak this because I am an alumni and part of that institution myself, but because of the variety of subjects we offer in our school. Hogwarts takes students from throughout Great Britain and Ireland." She took out a letter and handed it over to him. The boy took the yellowish envelope from her and seemed to be concentrating on the Hogwarts crest. "Now since you know about magic, in ordinary circumstances we would send you just your acceptance letter. But seeing as you were raised by muggles, someone was required to tell you about the laws of the Wizarding World and also you need to be shown to Diagon Alley, otherwise where will you get your school supplies and equipment from? Now of course, I first have to know whether you would be joining Hogwarts or not."
"Yes, I would!" said Harry excitedly, but suddenly his enthusiasm seemed to die away. "I mean I would love to join, but first I had a question, professor." The boy appeared to be nervous to ask the question. Muggleborns were always intimidated by the idea of magic in the beginning and so being nervous was not something uncommon.
"Yes?"
"Professor, I was wondering whether there are some arrangements of taking loan from any magical banks."
Minerva's eyebrows rose. This was a peculiar question. "And why would you need a loan, Mr. Potter?"
"It-it's just I don't want to put the pressure of paying for my schooling and supplies on my relatives and—"
"Mr. Potter", Minerva interrupted the boy. "Hogwarts is a Ministry funded school, despite having an autonomous administration, and so the tuition is free of any cost. And as far as the cost of your supplies come in, your parents did leave you with some money. Although you can't access most of the money or possessions until you are of age, that is you are seventeen, you do have access to your trust vault, the key to which I have at the moment, and I do believe it would be more than enough for your seven years of schooling, even if you purchase the most expensive or the best quality of your supplies. Potters were known to be a wealthy family, after all."
The boy appeared to be relieved, but then he asked another question. "Professor, I didn't know much about magic, and don't have much magical knowledge. The others my age would know so much about magic, and what if I don't—"
"Mr. Potter", Minerva interrupted him yet again. "You do realise that every year at Hogwarts, there are a number of students who join the school, without any prior knowledge of magic, right? Why, your mother had been a muggleborn herself! And she had been the brightest and most gifted among all her fellow year-mates in nearly all the fields of magic. Moreover, let me tell you this, Mr. Potter, no children in the Wizarding World gets a magical education before the age of eleven. Most of them are home-schooled and that's mostly, teaching the children to read, write, and they learn Arithmetic and English, and at most, some other language. It is in their first year at Hogwarts that their magical education begins! So you need not worry." She looked at the relieved kid, and then continued. "However, I must urge you not to slack off once the school year indeed starts and do your best in school, or you will fall behind."
"I won't professor", said Harry nodding.
"Very well", said Minerva. "All of your school supplies would be available in Diagon Alley, I'll show you how to commute there, and show you around the place. Would you be accompanying us, Mrs. Dursley?"
Petunia shook her head frantically. "I'd rather not", she said. "Erm, I'm busy… and…"
"Understandable", said Minerva simply. "So, Mr. Potter, would you be ready to go now?"
"Yes, professor", said Harry.
As the two came out of Number Four Privet Drive, Minerva turned towards Harry and said, "I am assuming, in the future too, you would have to shop in Diagon Alley alone, so today we would be going by the Knight Bus."
Seeing Harry nod, she went on. "Now to call the Knight Bus, all you've got to do is stick out your wand to the road and the Knight Bus will appear. As you're going to get your wand today, from now on, you'd be able to call the Knight Bus. Now, it would be safer if you get on the footpath."
Seeing Harry step onto the footpath, Minerva struck her wand out towards the road, and in a second with a huge 'BANG!' a triple decker, purple coloured bus appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
The bus conductor, who could not be more than nineteen and his face full of pimples stepped at the doorway, and started in a monotone voice. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for stranded witch or wiza—Professor McGonagall! Another firstie, is he?"
"Yes, Stan, and I believe you'd be seeing him quite a few times from now", said Minerva. "Mr. Potter, this is Stan Shunpike, Stan this is Harry Potter—and not a word about this to anyone, is that clear?"
Stan's eyes had widened on hearing Harry's name, but on hearing Minerva's warning he had nodded his head fearfully. Harry, on the other hand, looked amused for some reason.
"We would be going to Leaky Cauldron, Stan", said Minerva. "The muggle side."
"Righto professor!" said Stan. "It'd be eleven sickles for each of you, fifteen if you need hot—"
"No, we would not be taking any hot chocolate, tea or toothbrush, Stan", Minerva interrupted him. "Please if you could show us to our seat."
"Right `way professor", said Stan, standing aside to let Minerva and Harry in, and Minerva paid twenty two sickles (silver coins) to Stan.
The inside of the Knight Bus was larger than what it was in the outside, and the place had armed sofas strewn around. There was a witch who was peacefully reading the Daily Prophet, the most popular Wizarding newspaper in the British Isles, while another man looked quite green, and ready to throw up. Otherwise the bus seemed to be empty.
"'Lo, Professor!" a middle aged man with thick glasses, sitting on the driver's seat greeted her.
"Good morning Ernie", Minerva greeted, and then proceeded to sit on one of the sofas, while Harry sat on the one nearest to her.
"Everyone aboard?" asked Stan. "Righto, Take it away, Ern!"
With another 'BANG!' the Knight Bus started moving in an unimaginable speed causing all the sofas to skid across the floor. The witch seemed, not in the least, perturbed by the moving vehicle, and continued to read her Daily Prophet. The wizard looked greener, and seemed to have swallowed something, and Minerva was pretty sure it was vomit. Minerva and Harry both seemed to be holding tightly onto the sofas, as it moved around the floor of the bus, bumping on the window or the walls.
"Is something wrong with the brakes or acceleration pedal, professor?" asked Harry, his grip on the sofa tightening as it bounced across a wall.
"I think not, Mr. Potter", said Minerva in a dry tone. "You see, the Knight Bus…likes to drive in a rather brash manner."
"Don't the normal—I mean, muggles notice?"
"Muggles?" this time, Stan however had answered for Harry. "They don' notice anythin', do they?"
"That is because of the notice-me-not charm, a muggle repelling charm compounded with a confundus charm, on the Knight Bus", explained Minerva. "You will learn all of these charms gradually through your years of Hogwarts. Anyways, these charms makes the bus nearly invisible to the muggles."
The ride continued on for some time, when suddenly the bus seemed to skid to a halt with another 'BANG!' causing all the chairs to bounce around and then it arranged itself in an orderly fashion.
"We've reached Leaky Cauldron, professor!" said Stan.
Harry and Minerva got from where they were sitting with slightly shaky legs, and got down from the bus. They heard Stan call, "Next stop up—Chelshire!" and then with a 'BANG!' the triple decker bus had disappeared.
Minerva and Harry stood in front of a dingy looking pub with the sign 'Leaky Cauldron'.
"If you are wondering, Mr. Potter, we are in Charing Cross Road in London, and this is Leaky Cauldron, the muggle entrance to Diagon Alley. Minerva entered the dingy looking pub, and beckoned Harry to follow her.
The pub, despite its outward appearance was clean, and the tables and chairs seemed to be well taken care of. There were a few witches and wizards enjoying their breakfast when a bald man with a humped shoulder approached them, giving them a toothless smile.
"Good morning, Minerva!" said the barman. "Another first year?"
"Yes, Tom", she slightly narrowed her eyes when Tom's eyes seemed to widen when they had found Harry Potter's famed lightning bolt scar on his forehead. She whispered harshly to Tom, "Keep it quiet! We'd rather carry out our day without a mob of people accosting him here."
"Right, right, Minerva", said Tom, and then smiled at Harry. "Welcome to the Wizarding World, Mr. Potter!" Harry's name being almost said in a whisper so as to not attract attention.
"Erm, Thank you, sir", said Harry.
"Now, let us be on our way", said Minerva, as she walked out of one of the doors of the pub, with Harry following her, bringing them in front of a bricked wall.
"Please remember the pattern with which I prod the bricks, Mr. Potter", she said to the young boy. "The next time you'd have to do it on your own, but Tom won't be unhappy to do it for you should you forget."
Minerva took out her wand, and prodded the bricks in a certain pattern, and the next moment the bricks started moving about, and Minerva smiled at the look of wonder on the young boy's face, quite much like the other muggleborns whom she introduced to the Wizarding World.
Witches and Wizards bustled about the crowded alley, carrying out their businesses, laughing, chirping in delight, carrying shopping bags. The Alley itself looked to be in the sixteenth century, with cobbled brick lanes, and numerous shops side by side to each other, some bent in weird angle which wouldn't be possible except magic. Towards the end of the Alley, there was a huge white marble building, making it quite conspicuous among the other buildings or shops littered around it.
"Well, Mr. Potter", said Minerva. "Welcome to Diagon Alley!"
Author's Notes:
Well, here goes the first chapter of my first fanfiction in this site! I would try and do weekly updates. So, you've got the second chapter coming up next week. I do have a lot of free time now, seeing as my college hasn't started yet, so in the meanwhile I am trying to progress as much as I can.
Now, in this story Harry would be pretty much, what people call as 'gifted wizard', like say, Albus Dumbledore. It is mentioned that Dumbledore was capable of doing magic with his wand, while in his younger years itself, that the Hogwarts professors had previously thought to be impossible. Harry would be much the same, and so would be Voldemort. But add in the trouble Harry finds himself in his Hogwarts years, would make him explore his magic more and more. Magic which is beautiful yet dangerous.
And, as I'm sure you've pretty much understood from reading this chapter, we have a female Voldemort here. I have liked some of the female Voldemort stories I've had the pleasure of reading, and I wanted to use one for some time now, so here you have it.
Now, I can speak a whole lot of things about this story, but I won't, because...well, it would spoil the story.
Anyways, stay tuned!
Author's notes after edit (19.09.2021):
I finally corrected the slight grammatical errors in this particular chapter. I reread most of my chapters about three or four times before posting, but this one was only done once, and I posted it without thinking much.
Stay tuned folks!