Harry stared for a moment before remembering himself. He glanced down, seeing the towel he was holding up with his free hand, and looked back at the small man in horror.
"Right, sorry! Could you give me just one minute? Sorry!"
He closed the door without waiting for the response. A bit rude, perhaps, but he rather thought it was warranted. He only took a minute to dig through his dresser for a clean set of clothes and pulled the bathroom door shut before opening the door properly. The man was standing in the same place, still looking up at Harry with that happy smile on his face.
"Please, come in." The kettle behind him started whistling. "Uh, can I offer you some tea?"
"That sounds lovely, thank you Mr. Potter."
The man, Professor Flitwick, was dressed in a precisely tailored suit and vest with polished dress shoes. He stepped inside and swept his gaze around the room quickly. Harry was glad he made a habit of keeping his home tidy, though not spotless. At least the Dursleys had been able to impart some good habits. He busied himself with making his guest a cup of tea, the professor filling in his preferences when asked while examining the flat.
"Sorry I don't have much seating, but you're welcome to have a seat on the bed if you like."
The professor eyed the bed briefly, the mattress sat at about eye level for him, and Harry flushed with embarrassment.
"Thank you, but I'll take care of that!"
Flitwick drew a slender piece of wood from his sleeve and made an intricate gesture, speaking softly. There was a pop, and a comfortable looking armchair burst into existence opposite his bed, perfectly sized to the small man and accompanied by a short side table with a saucer. Harry almost dropped his cup in surprise.
"Where… did you say you were from, again?" The professor's eyes shined with delight.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, my boy. And I am so excited to have you as one of my new students this coming year."
"So, it's real then…" Harry dropped down on his bed, the tea long forgotten.
"Of course it's real!" The man seemed honestly affronted. "Didn't your aunt, Petunia Dursley, tell you what to expect when you turned seventeen? Where did you think you were going to learn to control your abilities?"
"Abilities? Wait, Aunt Petunia knew?"
Professor Flitwick frowned and took a thoughtful sip of his tea, considering his words carefully.
"Well now, this certainly puts a few things in perspective. I see today may take a bit longer than I'd expected. Give me a moment, please, Mr. Potter."
Flitwick drew his wand again and said something softly. A small bird, glowing brightly and radiating a warm comfort, futtered from the tip.
"Minerva, I'm afraid this will take a bit longer than I'd expected. I'm going to need to give Mr. Potter here the non-standard introduction. Could you have someone take my other appointment for me?"
The tiny bird bobbed playfully, then shot off, disappearing right through the wall of his flat and taking the warm glow with it.
"What was that?" Harry asked, examining the part of the wall the bird had passed through.
"The Patronus Charm with a useful addition, of my own creation I might add. You'll learn all about the Patronus in your fifth year at Hogwarts."
"You're serious, then? I'm sorry if I'm rude, this is just all a bit much." The man took another sip of his drink, enjoying Harry's bewilderment perhaps a bit much.
"I understand completely. Normally it is the witch's or wizard's parents' responsibility to teach their children the basics before entering Hogwarts, but in situations with one raised in a non-magical household, situations like yours can be unavoidable. I will do my best to answer all the questions you might have, or at least the most pressing ones. You have seven years of education to answer the detailed ones."
"My parents? So my mum and dad were, uh, magical, then?" Flitwick's eyes grew strange. Both proud and sad.
"Oh yes. James and Lily were two of the finest people, and powerful practitioners, I have ever had the pleasure to teach. I'm afraid we don't have time to talk about them in too much detail at the moment, but I will be happy to tell you all about them over tea and cakes at Hogwarts. If you decide to attend, of course."
Flitwick finished his tea with a contented sigh, and leaned back in his chair, shifting until he was suitably comfortable.
"Now, where to begin. Have you ever had strange things occur around you that you couldn't explain? When you were particularly scared, anxious, or angry perhaps? Things that, somehow, seemed to resolve in your favour?"
Harry's expression must have been a suitable answer, as the man continued.
"Exactly. Magic is something an individual is either born with or will lack forever. It is hereditary, though can occur spontaneously to those with no previous magical heritage, or at least no immediate magical parentage. Studies have been going on for decades about whether having a single practitioner, even generations ago, is enough to-… but I digress. You are one of the lucky few to have been born with that magical spark. Though given your parents, I would have been rather surprised if you hadn't."
Harry settled onto his bed, leaning against the wall and listening carefully.
"A magical child's abilities generally manifest around puberty, though they can occur significantly sooner or later. At this point the magic is inherently unstable and potentially dangerous. The more magical ability is trained, the more… shall we say 'eager' the magic is to respond, whether the practitioner intended it to or not. This can cause accidents where people around the practitioner, or even they themselves, are injured. Children are, after all, emotionally unstable until they mature. The best course of action, then, is to allow them to mature through their childhood and only then teach them to control their magic once they near adulthood."
Harry's mind was racing, and he was barely keeping up with the conversation. This man knew his parents! Not just knew them, but claimed to have taught them personally. That certainly put a new perspective on all the times his aunt and uncle had called him a freak. Could this have been what they were referring to? Magic?
"Now normally I would give you the usual speech about Hogwarts' prestigious history and why it is the best magical school in Wizarding Britain, but we will need to be brief if we want to have enough time to gather your supplies from Diagon Alley before the shops begin closing. Work certainly kept you today, didn't it?"
The man hopped out of his chair and it, and the table, disappeared with a soft pop. The tea cup started to fall as well, but it was swept up with another flick of his wand and floated gently over to the sink.
"Diagon Alley?"
"Oh yes! The very heart of Magical Britain. You can hardly gather the supplies you'll need at a local shop, after all. With your permission I will take us directly there."
"Uh, yeah, sure, but I don't have any money to purchase supplies… Do you have a financing office I can speak to, or…"
"Ah, so Ms. Dursley didn't tell you about your family's finances either, I take it?"
"I was told they were… not well off." Flitwick's eyes shined with a giddy eagerness.
"Let's just say you'll only need to stay in your delightful home if you choose to. Will you take my arm, please?"
Harry gave one last glance around his apartment, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything, stuffed the Hogwarts letter in his jacket pocket, and gripped the professor's shoulder, leaning over a little to do so.
"This will be a tad unpleasant; I suggest you close your eyes the first few times."
"Breathe, Mr. Potter, just breathe. I apologize, I should have given you more warning. Some people don't take to apparition as well as others, nothing to be embarrassed about."
Harry sat on a bench with his head between his legs, trying very hard not to puke. The experience of being squeezed into a straw and sucked down a subway was one of the worst of his life. His head was still spinning a few minutes later.
"Ap-apparition, sir?" He more asked for a distraction than a lesson, but Flitwick was only too happy to explain. The man was definitely the scholarly type, and Harry could already tell it would be easy to set the man off on a lecturing tangent if prompted.
"Oh, yes! One of the most popular forms of magical transportation. The theory behind it is quite complex. You see, space and time are…"
The resulting lecture gave Harry more than enough time to regain his bearings as Flitwick went on about instantaneous transportation, not travelling through the space between locations, and so on. After what had to have been ten minutes or more, the man checked the time with his wand and cut himself off.
"Ah, but you'll learn more about that in your later years at Hogwarts. For now, we must be going! We have many stops to make before the alley closes. Feeling better? Good, good. Then we shall away!"
Now that he didn't feel like he was about to die, Harry had the chance to examine his surroundings. 'Diagon Alley' looked like someone had taken a fairy tale village and overlaid it on top of a normal alley in London. The buildings were close together and clearly things like architecture and building codes were nothing in the face of magic. Most were lopsided or built to odd specifications. One in particular, Harry swore, had a different number of windows every time he looked at it. People bustled about, individuals walking quickly and parents pushing a small horde of children along with ice cream cones in their hands. The air seemed cleaner than even Surrey, somehow, and the colors were a bit brighter.
"Where are we, exactly?"
"London! Our first stop will be Gringotts Wizarding Bank. You have quite a surprise waiting for you, you'll see."
They left the bank half an hour or so later, but it felt like a lifetime to Harry. He had gone from having two hundred pounds in his bank account to being the sole heir to a 'small' fortune. He would never have to worry about rent again. Or getting sick, missing work, and not being able to eat. He hadn't realized just how much weight he had been carrying until it was suddenly gone. His head felt light and the sun was a bit too bright.
Though that could have just been from the mine cart.
He now had the Wizarding equivalent of five thousand pounds in cash in his pocket, half of it in mundane currency. More than he had ever seen in his life, let alone owned, and the assurance that he would be able to use his wand, once he had one, to make payments just like a mundane debit card. For once the world was open to him, he could do anything he wanted. He didn't even have to work at all if he didn't want to. At least, not for a long time if he was careful with his spending habits. It was hard to wrap his head around.
There had been something more valuable than just money in his vault, however. While their goblin attendant, a terribly scarred thing with the faintest resemblance to Professor Flitwick, Harry had found a single letter propped up on a pedestal with his name written in a feminine hand. It was tucked into his jacket pocket next to his Hogwarts letter. Could it have been from his mother? It was practically burning in his pocket, but he couldn't bear the thought of opening it in public. He would read it when he got home.
"Thank you for your help with this, Professor. I really appreciate it."
"Of course, of course! It is my pleasure. Now, for our second stop we will pick up the single most important tool you will ever own. A wand."
Harry and Flitwick walked out of the bookstore as the sky was losing the last of its light. Streetlights had lit up on the street with an unwavering blue light and the street was almost empty. The last few shoppers were hustling to finish their business and shopkeepers were starting to lock up. Flitwick checked the Hogwarts list one last time and nodded happily.
"That's the last of it! It's a good thing we decided to stop at the bookstore last, we spent quite a bit more time in there than I'd expected."
The way he said it made it clear the professor meant that as a compliment. The sight of shelves and stacks of magical tomes had woken something in Harry's lizard brain, and he had spent almost half of his withdrawal on books alone. Far more than had just been on the list. Spell books, instruction manuals, theory and the science of magic, wizarding society and history, even a fictional 'fantasy' novel about a mundane bicycle repair man. He wanted to know everything there was to know about magic and the new society he belonged to.
Flitwick had been watching over his shoulder the entire time, offering helpful suggestions and making recommendations, seeming just as excited about the books as Harry was. He had even picked up a few of the same books Harry had selected. Supposedly his order was to be delivered via owl over the course of the next few days, and Harry couldn't bear the thought of having to wait until after work
"Thanks again for all your help. Do you have dinner plans? I'll buy."
The professor waved his wand to check the time and smiled.
"I have a few more things to take care of before it gets too late, I'm afraid, but I appreciate the offer. Shall I take you home, or would you rather make your own way?"
Harry turned green at the thought of apparition, but an hour on a bus didn't sound too much better. Flitwick noticed and smiled reassuringly.
"If you don't mind."
"Not at all. Don't worry, it shouldn't be nearly as bad as your first time and before long it will feel… well not natural necessarily, but not nearly as unpleasant. The conveniences outweigh the discomfort, after all."
Flitwick took his arm and twisted, and they were standing outside Harry's flat. The man had barely interrupted his sentence, it was so simple.
"Now, some things to remember before I leave you here. Performing magic without a license provided by completing a magical education without supervision is illegal. I know the temptation to practice will be unbearable, but I must ask you to refrain. Repeated offenses will result in the snapping of one's wand and you will not be able to procure a second legally."
Harry swallowed hard at the thought of losing a new world before he had even gotten to explore it.
"Second, your tuition has already been covered for your entire duration at Hogwarts, paid for by your parents. All expenses are included, such as room, board, and food. You'll be quite comfortable while you're there. I'm sure there are other things, but I haven't the foggiest at the moment. If you have any questions, just write me a letter and send it with Hedwig. She should be arriving this evening or sometime early tomorrow. Any questions for me?"
"None, sir." Harry shook hands with the man. "It has been a pleasure meeting you and I look forward to studying under you at Hogwarts."
Flitwick beamed as he pumped Harry's arm up and down excitedly.
"All mine, Mr. Potter, all mine. I hope to see you in Ravenclaw house. Though, given how many books you ordered, I hardly think I should be worried! I'll see you in September, Harry!"
With that farewell, the man twisted on the spot and vanished with a pop, leaving Harry alone in the dark.
"What the hell is all that popping!" A neighbor yelled, and Harry quickly ducked inside.
He heated up the bowl of beans left out with some toast for dinner, and collapsed on his bed staring up at the ceiling. His mind raced to a dizzying extent. This was happening. Magic was real. He could do magic. He was going to a magical college. It was real.
He stared at his new wand, rolling it over in his hands.
Holly, eleven inches, nice and supple. Phoenix feather. Curious… how very curious…
Ollivander, the strange old man who had sold Harry his wand, had given him the clue as to how his parents died. And who had killed them. Flitwick had admitted, under a bit of pressure, that their murderer was a very powerful dark wizard, but that somehow Harry had defeated him on the day of his parents' murder. Though, Flitwick had shared, he rather suspected it was more due to Lily's actions than anything inherent to Harry.
An incredible witch, your mother. The finest of her generation.
He slid the wand back into the new holster on his forearm, leather creaking as he did, and pulled out his mother's letter. He thought there was the slightest hint of a scent. Something maddeningly familiar, and yet so far away. His hands trembled as he slid it open, the beans forgotten once more.
My dearest Harry.
I hope you never have to read this letter, and in fact I quite look forward to burning it when I'm out of this damn house, but there is no sense being prepared. Just in case.
My name is Lily Jade Potter, born Lily Evans, and I'm your mum.
AN: Without reviews, life would be a mistake. - F. Nietzsche, fanfiction author