CHAPTER TWO
The Tale of Two Heroes
Harry awoke to complete silence.
He felt the ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach long before the memories of the previous day had even resurfaced. Yesterday, he had awoken to his recurring childhood nightmare, but today he couldn't remember dreaming at all. Maybe that was a sign? Perhaps not dreaming was a good omen?
Today might not be so- Harry killed that thought before it could fully form. It wasn't because he was afraid of jinxing himself. He wasn't even sure he believed in omens or that dreams could affect his reality, but after the fiasco that was yesterday, he did believe that overconfidence led to disaster. He had been confident in omitting the truth in his application to Smeltings and he had been rejected. He had been confident in blatantly breaking school rules for years and made an enemy of Roemmele, who in turn got him out of Highsmith's. He had placed all his confidence in his powers and had nearly killed himself and dozens of others in the process.
He needed to be more cautious and less impulsive, as his powers couldn't save him from himself. Besides, he was not like Dudley, or any other child he had ever known. They all had parachutes in the form of their parents. If they ever fell, their families would ensure a soft, safe landing and lift them back up again when they were ready. Harry was an orphan and his only living relatives were unreliable at best. If he ever fell, all he could do was crash and burn.
The silence coming from outside the cupboard was starting to worry him. Reaching for the shelf behind his headrest, he picked up his watch and checked the time. It was almost eleven in the morning. No wonder the house was so quiet. He was alone.
Even though he had never slept in so late before, he still felt tired, as though all the repercussions of yesterday's power usage were just now catching up to him. Hestia's medicine must have worn off. But if the house was silent and his body was still tired, why had he woken up?
A dull ache in his stomach answered that question. He was hungry.
Climbing out of bed, he made his way into the kitchen, enjoying the freedom of not having to check if anyone was there before entering. He still lacked an appetite, but Hestia's medical advice was ringing in his ears. Nibbling on a slice of buttered toast, he distracted himself from his queasy stomach with a mid-morning talk show.
Even though he had showered twice yesterday, he made his way to the bathroom with his towel and fresh change of clothes. With the house empty, it was a rare opportunity to have a long bath which, at that moment, was the only thing Harry desired.
With the water almost scalding (just the way he liked it) and the bubble bath solution (courtesy of Dudley) doing its job, Harry got in the bath and almost immediately felt his body begin to relax. He half-heartedly went through the motions of cleaning himself but gave up midway through and just lay back. His thoughts drifted without direction, and he found himself in a comfortable state, halfway between consciousness and unconsciousness, his mind relaxing alongside his body.
When he eventually climbed out, his skin pruned, he felt better than he had since...well, he wasn't sure when. That had never happened to him before, but perhaps it was some kind of side effect from the medicines he had taken yesterday. Feeling too relaxed to think on it, he made his way back to the cupboard and dressed for the day.
Switching the television on, Harry found a show about people buying homes in the country. He wasn't interested in watching it, but he enjoyed the background noise; it made him feel as though he had company. He busied himself in the kitchen, his appetite returning in full force. As he made himself a large breakfast of beans and sausages, he began to plan both the rest of his day and his summer.
Settling down in front of the larger television in the living room, he ate his meal with gusto, but it was finished all too quickly. Feeling as though his stomach was bottomless, he returned to the kitchen for a large bowl of cereal and a mug of sugary tea but when even that was not enough, he gave up and raided Petunia's not-so-secret stash of ice-cream and chocolates. Hopefully, she would get drunk with Mrs Brooks again tonight and assume she ate it all. It wouldn't be the first time. It was only when he had eaten all of it, did his hunger finally feel sated.
The real estate show was so boring, he ended up nodding off again and when he awoke it was a little after three in the afternoon. Hestia's advice rang true; a good night's sleep and a full meal and he felt better than he could ever remember! Feeling much more hopeful than he probably should, he cleaned up after himself, making sure to leave the house in the same condition he found it in and he made his way out the house through his usual route, taking his bike with him.
Once he was on the footpath, he simply let himself into Lupin's back garden through the gate. Lupin's home was smaller than the Dursley's, but still much too large for one person in Harry's opinion. He often wondered why his teacher needed so much space. Wouldn't it have made more sense for a single adult to live where other single adults lived? Why had he moved to a street where he was the only person not married or raising a family? Harry had asked him these questions (quite rudely) a long time ago and Lupin had simply smiled at him and said, "Harry, there's nowhere else I'm meant to be." He never elaborated on that, no matter how much Harry pestered him.
Knocking on Lupin's kitchen door, he waited for a response, but none came. Frowning, he knocked again, but when there was still no response, he simply let himself in. Harry knew it was very rude to let yourself into someone's home without permission, but Lupin would have to forgive him as he forgave all of Harry's misbehaviour.
There was something different about the kitchen, but Harry didn't pay it any mind, too focused on locating his wayward teacher. He made his way to the living room, stomping loudly. Lupin hated it when he stomped indoors, so Harry hoped he would come out from wherever he was hiding in order to tell him off. He didn't. Harry only stopped when he crossed the threshold of the living room, too shocked to keep acting like a brat.
Have the walls always been so white? He wondered. Perhaps Lupin's clutter had simply obstructed it from Harry's eyes? Well, it wasn't obstructing it anymore.
The living room that had always been strewn with books and a strange assortment of knick-knacks for as long as he could remember was now completely empty. The walls and floor were bare and not a single thing remained. Hurrying back to the kitchen, he paid attention to what his subconscious had noticed before. Lupin was an excellent cook and took pride in his various pots, pans and cooking utensils, but where they had usually been on display before, on hooks and racks, they were now gone.
Harry quickly made his way around the house, checking the study, the downstairs bathroom and even all the rooms upstairs (which Lupin had made him swear to never go into, but desperate times) and found them all to be empty. If Harry hadn't known the man who had lived here, he could never have guessed that this had been someone's home just yesterday. What had happened? Where in the world was Remus Lupin?
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Later that evening, Harry pedalled his bike down the road at a leisurely pace. There was no need to hurry, as he had plenty of time. He had pushed Lupin's disappearance to the back of his mind hours ago. If he wanted to leave abruptly and without saying goodbye, that was his prerogative. After all, it wasn't as if Harry had ever actually needed him.
Making a sharp left turn at the corner, Harry brought himself to a stop. He climbed off his bike and wheeled it towards The Authoritative Pawnbrokers. Hopefully, he could find what he was looking for here.
When he entered the dingy shop, Simon, the owner, a scruffy, long nosed, grey-haired man, walked out of the backroom to greet him. When he spotted Harry wheeling in his bike, a slow smile stretched out across his face.
"One of these days, I'm gonna have to meet your parents, kid. How do they keep letting you get away with selling all the nice toys they buy you?"
Even though he had always thought Simon was more than a bit creepy, he was the only buyer Harry knew that never tried to lowball him because of his age. Simon only ever tried to lowball him because he was stingy. Harry could respect that.
He smiled back at him and, channelling Dudley's spoiled nature, he said, "They don't care what I do with the things they buy me, as long as I'm happy. I think they're even a little proud that I'm making money for myself. Now, how much can you give me for this beauty?"
Since leaving Lupin's abandoned home, Harry had returned briefly to clean his bike before Petunia and Dudley could return from the school run and had been to every buyer in town. They had all offered him lower than he had hoped for and now Simon was his only hope for a solid profit.
Simon began examining the bike in silence and after a couple minutes, he made his offer. "I won't go higher than one thirty. The brand is good, but I'll have to replace the tires for the resale. They're just too worn."
It was even better than he had hoped for, but he knew from experience to never accept the first offer; these people could sniff out desperation. "It's clearly worth two hundred. Anything less and my parents wasted their money." So began the haggling. It went on for a couple of minutes, with Simon even threatening to take his original offer off the table, but finally they had agreed on one fifty.
"Pleasure doing business with you, kid." Simon said as he handed over the money. Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Who says business is done?" Harry reached into his bag and pulled out his bike lock. Simon frowned as he slowly figured out what Harry was doing and tried to keep his offers low with each new item Harry revealed. He wasn't the first buyer in town who had tried to do that today.
Harry had realised how careless he had grown with Dudley's old possessions. He had been treating Dudley's playroom as though it were a holding area for his sales. Once every few weeks, he would fix up something broken or discovered a toy Dudley had grown bored with and sell it on. Often, afraid that Dudley might regain interest in a particular item, he hid them around the house in various hidey holes just in case he needed to "find it" for his cousin.
All it would have taken was a little bad luck and he would have the worst of Vernon's and Petunia's attention fixed squarely on him. Yesterday was a wakeup call. His powers didn't make him infallible, and caution needed to become his ally.
This afternoon he had sold a few items in every shop he had been to. Harry's pockets had learned the hard way not to dump all his goods in one place, it was another sign of desperation they could discern.
Eventually, Harry left the shop with a smile on his face and his pockets laden with more money than he had ever carried before. He made his way back towards Privet Drive at a leisurely pace. There was no need to rush after all. Between a late evening stroll and a stuffy attic, there was only one clear choice.
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For the next few weeks, Harry's mind remained on a single goal; to make as much money as possible before September. Stonewall High School had already accepted his late application and Harry planned to spend his entire summer preparing himself for it. Not academically of course. Dudley could be considered a good student at Stonewall. No, Harry needed to prepare financially.
Perhaps it was because he had been raised in such an affluent area, but Harry had noticed that most kids his age didn't seem to think about how much school cost. School dinners, trips, equipment, uniforms, P.E Uniforms, stationery. It all cost a small fortune in Harry's eyes and that was just the things that were necessary for lessons.
In order to fit in with his peers he needed money to afford the latest fads. It sounded stupid even in his own head, but many students from St. Gregory's would be attending Stonewall and Harry didn't want his reputation as the school weirdo to follow him. He didn't mind not having close friends, (he had learned through Sara how that could backfire) but as long as he wasn't completely on the outside anymore, he would be content.
So, while Dudley spent the rest of July playing computer games and beating up younger kids with his gang of moronic hooligans, Harry went around to the neighbours offering his services. Washing cars, walking dogs, helping pensioners with everyday tasks while they told him about how their grandkids didn't have his manners, he helped out wherever his services were accepted. Each job didn't pay that much, but after a couple of weeks it began to accumulate into a tidy sum.
It took Harry longer than he was proud of to realise that the neighbours didn't need his help. Not when they took the time to compliment his work and tell him he was growing up the right way. It was only when sweet old Mrs Marsh of Number Twelve said, "You're such a thoughtful boy. I bet your parents would have been proud of you," did it finally click. They were giving him so many jobs because they saw him as a poor little orphan, and it made them feel better about themselves to hire him. The reason Vernon and Petunia had let it go on for so long was because it made them look good to raise a helpful boy.
After that Harry stopped asking for odd jobs. He might be a poor orphan, but he had more pride than to use that fact to gain work.
Not enough to give back the money though. He was prideful, but he wasn't stupid.
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One morning, a week before his birthday, Harry awoke to the most awful stench wafting through the house. Fearing there may be some kind of gas leak or electrical fire (he had never smelt either before, but maybe it was something like this?) and that the Dursleys had left him to die, Harry rolled out of bed and fell out the cupboard door. Scrambling to his feet, he poked his head into the kitchen.
Apparently, he had overreacted. Vernon's breakfast was half eaten on his plate and the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Dudley's favourite cartoon was playing but he wasn't around either, but Petunia was by the kitchen sink, so it couldn't be all that dangerous. She seemed to be stirring something.
"What is that smell?"
Petunia stopped her stirring and turned to pinch her face at him, as she always did when he made himself noticed. "I'm purchasing Dudley's uniform today so I thought I might as well get yours done. I'm dyeing Dudley's old Cherry Grove uniform for you."
Harry took a peek at the sink's contents and wished he hadn't. Apparently, in Petunia's mind at least, he would be going to school wearing saggy elephant skin. He needed to fix this, fast.
"Didn't the school send the letter about the Student Reform Programme?"
"What?"
"Apparently, Stonewall is aware of their reputation around town. So, they're taking their worst behaved students and making sure they have everything they need to succeed so they have no excuses for failure. I used to get in so much trouble at St. Gregory's they already know about me." It had been a couple of years since Headmistress Roemmele had caught him doing anything bad enough to warrant a call home (keyword being caught), but hopefully it would be prominent enough in Petunia's memory for her to buy his story.
In this case it was fortunate that she was always prepared to believe the worst of him. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" She demanded.
Harry shrugged, unconcerned with her labour. "They said they were going to send a letter."
There was a clattering sound by the front door. "I'll get the post, shall I?" He said jauntily, leaving her staring frustrated at the sink. He made a note to purchase his school things earlier than he normally would have in order to keep up the lie.
There were only three letters today: An electric bill, a postcard from Marge Dursley and a stamp-less letter for Harry. He blinked. Wait, what-?
Mr H Potter
The Cupboard Under The Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
He blinked again. Hang on, did that say Cupboard Under The Stairs?
On his way back to the kitchen, he tossed the letter onto his bed as he passed. Leaving the post in front of Vernon's chair he made his way back to his room and closed the door firmly behind him.
Harry examined his letter. He had never seen anything like it or at least not outside of a television screen. The letter was made of thick parchment, the ink was acidic green, and the fat red seal was split into four, like the chambers of a heart. Each one had a different animal, a lion, a snake, a badger and an eagle. Slowly, he opened the letter and read its contents. He felt less confused and more angry the further down he went.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Lord Albus Dumbledore
(47th Magister of the International Confederation of Wizards, Sage of the Six Esoteric Arts)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. First Year students will be required to report to the Entrance Courtyard upon arrival.
Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1st. We await your owl no later than 31st July.
In order to avoid detection by Muggles, students are asked to use the entrance to Platform Nine and Three Quarters located in King's Cross Station, London. The ticket for the train is also enclosed.
Yours Sincerely,
Professor Minerva McGonagall
Master of Transfiguration
Deputy Headmistress
There was only one person who Harry thought could possibly be behind this, and she lived just a street away.
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Harry tore his way down Privet Drive and onto Wisteria Walk, making a beeline for Number Sixteen. There was only one person in the world that knew of Harry's powers and the last he'd heard she had tried to get the police to arrest him. Granted he was a danger to society, but still! That didn't mean he had to take this joke lying down.
Walking down the front path he knocked on their front door, perhaps a little harder than was strictly necessary. A few moments later it was opened by a blonde teenage boy in pyjamas. He looked at Harry through bleary eyes.
"What?" He asked.
"Is Sara in?" Harry was glad the boy gave him the excuse to skip the chit chat and get to the point. At least until he shut the door in his face. Harry was stunned for a moment and was about to knock even more firmly this time, but the door was quickly opened again, and a flustered Sara appeared in front of him.
"Harry!" She said happily. "I was just about to eat breakfast. Join me." She snatched his arm and before he could even open his mouth, he found himself being led into the kitchen. He had breakfast at Sara's house plenty of times before, back when they had still been friends, but it had always been a lively affair with her older siblings and parents hurrying around the house getting ready for the day. Now it was just the two of them in the kitchen.
"Don't mind Scott, he's just grumpy because Taylor dumped him last night." She said this as she was fixing the two of them plates. Harry knew her parents and older sister all worked busy jobs, so she was probably eager for company. Was that why she had sent the letter? To engineer this situation?
Harry could feel himself becoming increasingly paranoid so, before he could lose his temper, he asked, "Did you send me this letter?" He waved the parchment letter he held in his hand.
Sara looked genuinely confused. "What? No, I didn't send you a letter. Why would I? You live two minutes away."
Harry scowled. "You're the only person who knows about me. It literally couldn't be anyone else." He was keeping his voice low in case sound travelled in this house as it did at the Dursleys'.
Sara returned his scowl. "I seriously have no idea what you're talking about. What am I supposed to know?" She paused as if searching her memory. "Is this about your crush on Ms. Hills? I think she might already know. You're not very subtle."
Harry was caught off guard. "What?! No! How'd you even-?" He spluttered, as his cheeks began to grow warm. "No, this isn't about that! This is about my powers."
Sara, giggling from his obvious embarrassment, asked, "What powers? Of obviousness?" Harry breathed through his nose trying to calm himself down.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. That green fireball? The Boa? Roemmele's door? Any of this ringing a bell?"
Perhaps it was because he was being so serious, but Sara finally got control of herself. "Seriously, I've got no idea what you're going on about." She looked genuinely confused. Harry had known Sara long enough to understand that while she wasn't a bad liar, she had a terrible habit of avoiding eyes when she fibbed. She was looking into his eyes right now.
Harry felt his anger begin to slip away and felt genuine worry begin to take its place. "You can't remember any of it?" He stepped forward and put both hands on her shoulders. "Can you tell me why we even stopped being friends in the first place?"
Sara rolled her eyes. "Is that what this was about? You lost the book I lent you. But I told you it was fine ages ago! We're okay again." She sighed. "Honestly Harry, you take these things much too seriously."
Harry was the confused one now. "What book did you lend me?" Sara seemed to search her memory and came up empty.
"I don't even remember, so it obviously can't even be that important. I think I must have borrowed the book from my dad. That's why I was so upset, probably afraid he'll punish me for it." The words sounded awkward to Harry's ears, rehearsed almost.
His hands tightened on her shoulders. "Is someone making you say this? Did they threaten you or something? Was it the police?" Harry's mind went in a dark direction. "Was it Lupin?" It would have made sense with his hasty departure from the hospital, his overnight move and the way he had spoken to all the witnesses of the Reptile House incident but had only singled out Sara's report of the events as strange. Well, it actually didn't make any sense, but he had a feeling Lupin was involved somehow. He was just missing a few key pieces of the puzzle.
Sara looked confused again, but not nervous in any way. She brushed off Harry's hands and stepped out of his reach. "No one is making me say anything, and what does Mr. Lupin have to do with it? You're being even weirder than usual today." She had said all of this while maintaining eye contact.
It had been so long since Harry had felt truly afraid that it took him a moment to recognise the feeling. Slowly making his way to the door, he ignored Sara until he was on the doorstep. Without turning his head, he said, "You might not remember, but I do. I'm sorry for making it seem like you were making a big deal out of nothing because clearly you weren't. I am dangerous."
Harry ignored her questions as he walked away, the letter still clutched in his fist.
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Harry spent the rest of the morning out of the house. He spent some time in the library in order to distract himself but left when he couldn't concentrate on any of the books he picked out. He wandered around the park lost in his own thoughts and only made the way back to Privet Drive, late in the afternoon, when his growling stomach became too hard to ignore.
Harry was so distracted that he didn't even make fun of Dudley's new uniform like he had intended to. He made himself a large sandwich as a late lunch (or a very early dinner) and began to make his way to his cupboard, letter still clutched in his hand.
Perhaps unsettled by Harry's lack of an opinion on his ridiculous uniform (A straw hat and a maroon tailcoat? Really? The less said of the orange knickerbockers the better. Harry was almost glad Smeltings had rejected him.) Dudley confronted him in the hallway outside the cupboard. Harry, on a reflex born from a decade living in the same house as his greedy cousin, moved his body to shield his sandwich from his grubby hands.
Unfortunately, this left his other hand within the larger boy's reach. The hand that contained the strange letter. Dudley's watery grey eyes fixed on it and, with speed unexpected from a boy his size, snatched it out of Harry's grasp. "What's this?" He asked.
"It's a letter." Harry said dryly. "It's what people have used to contact each other for centuries. Didn't they teach you anything at Cherry Grove?" He hoped his lack of visible concern would make Dudley drop the letter. It might have even worked if he didn't glance at the address.
Dudley's expression tightened. One of the few rules that both boys had to follow was about the Cupboard Under the Stairs. Vernon and Petunia had sat them both down when they had been little and explained that no one except for Marge was allowed to know about the cupboard. Harry had been threatened to keep quiet. Dudley had been bribed.
Harry knew what was about to happen and might have even stopped him if it didn't mean dropping his sandwich. In his defence, he hadn't eaten all day. Besides, whatever Vernon and Petunia had to say about it was the least of his concerns. However, the Dursley's reaction to this surprised him.
When Dudley ran into the living room and gave his mother the letter, both she and her husband paled drastically. What happened next was even more shocking. Vernon grabbed Dudley by the scruff of his neck and threw him out into the hallway and slammed the door behind him, all without uttering a word. Petunia didn't even protest the poor treatment of Dudley's brand-new uniform.
While Dudley busied himself with trying to eavesdrop at the door, Harry made himself comfortable on the staircase and ate his sandwich. It made no difference, despite the Dursley parents trying to keep their voices low, Harry could hear them clear as day. Sound tended to carry in this house and Harry had sharp ears.
"Look at the address", Petunia was saying, "they know where he sleeps!"
Vernon let out a shaky breath at this. "How? Do you think that they've been watching him?"
"Watching him. Watching us. You don't know these people like I do. They have no decency, no line they won't cross!" Petunia sounded increasingly upset with each word she said, and Vernon was making quiet soothing sounds as though he was comforting her. Harry and Dudley exchanged an awkward look, feeling as though they were intruding on a private moment.
Finally, she seemed to regain some control of herself and said, "He hasn't had an incident in years. I thought he was becoming normal. But he's just like her."
"You told me this day was always going to come. I didn't think he could be changed." Vernon almost sounded accusing.
Petunia's voice was still thick as she said, "I just hoped that...", she trailed off, and after a few moments said, "If they're watching the house, we have to move him tonight. Dudley's playroom." She added to Vernon's unasked question.
Dudley, who had been looking increasingly confused, suddenly gasped and charged back into the living room. "No! It's mine! I NEED IT!"
And so began the biggest tantrum Number Four Privet Drive had seen since the pogo incident of '88.
Harry, stomach full and hunger sated, made his way to the cupboard. He knew he wasn't going to get any answers from his relatives right now. What worried him in that moment was his move from the cupboard to an upstairs room. If they were serious, he had a loose floorboard to empty of cash.
He heard Vernon leave the house in a hurry to buy furniture before the shops closed and Petunia went upstairs to clean out the playroom, all the while Dudley was screaming in the background, "I DON'T WANT HIM IN THERE!" Apparently, they needed it to look like he had always lived there. This only served to make Harry feel nervous. Who was going to be inspecting his new room?
Later that evening, Petunia rapped on the cupboard door and asked Harry to come out. "You're getting a little too big for your old room, so we're moving you to Dudley's old playroom."
"That's nice of you." Harry said, as though he hadn't heard Dudley's screams. "Shall I pack my things?"
She ignored his question and demanded to know, "Have you ever told anyone about the cupboard? Have you ever spoken to someone strange?"
"Aside from you? No." Petunia scowled and stalked back into the living room.
Harry packed his boxes and made his way to his new room. Petunia had completely cleaned out the room and Vernon had purchased a new bed, desk and wardrobe. Harry closed the door behind him and shut the curtains. He crawled under his new bed and with his old Swiss army knife, loosened one of the floorboards. Once done, he stuffed his money inside.
Now that he had created a little hideaway for himself, Harry stood and examined his new room. It was jarring to have a bedroom he could actually stand-up straight in. It was the smallest room in the house, but he wasn't even sure if he could sleep with this much space around him. Tonight, would be an adventure all on its own. Harry unpacked his things, and while it didn't take very long, he did make sure it was all neat and orderly, just as he liked it.
While Dudley was being consoled by Petunia with heavy amounts of ice-cream, he placed the box that contained all his books up against the wall. They weren't very many in comparison to Lupin's collection, just a little over thirty, but compared to the Dursley's non-existent collection, it was a veritable library. He would have to buy some kind of shelf as he wanted to display his collection as proudly as Lupin had.
The thought of his old teacher made him pause. The Dursley's unusual (and amusing) behaviour had distracted him from his real problems. The disturbing letter, Sara's lost memories and Lupin's abrupt departure. All of it was connected in some way. Harry tried to avoid the real issue now, as he had all day, but he felt much safer tackling a problem than he did accepting something he had always wished for.
What if this was some kind of prank? What if someone had figured him out and were playing mind games with him? Despite what he had told Sara, she might not be the only person who knows (or knew) what he was capable of. It wouldn't be especially difficult to discover as he had never been very subtle when using his powers, as Sara's initial discovery had shown. At least she had asked him to his face what he had done rather than spying on him (as he probably would have).
Anytime he moved something through sheer force of will, set something on fire or made something disappear, he might have attracted someone's attention. It wouldn't have been hard to realise who was behind it as he appeared exhausted after every use, sometimes even falling asleep back in the early days. These thoughts stayed with Harry as he got ready for bed, despite the early evening sun peeking through the closed curtains.
But what if it's real? The thought drifted to the front of his mind despite his best efforts. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I might be a wizard. My powers might be magical. A whole school to teach me how to use magic properly.
Harry gave up trying to distract himself from the hope that was building in his chest. It took surprisingly little time to fall asleep, as even his subconscious seemed excited to dream of the possibilities, with one shining brighter than the rest:
A school of kids like me.
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Harry's good mood followed him through the next couple of days. Even the Dursley's increasingly erratic behaviour couldn't dampen his mood. Dudley was still upset with losing his playroom, Petunia seemed to grow more tense with each passing hour and Vernon had taken time off work in order to take care of her.
Harry, however, had taken matters into his own hands. While he didn't remember the letter word for word, he did remember six words clear as day.
We await your response by owl.
Harry had no idea where he was supposed to find an owl or what they expected him to do with it once he found it, but he decided to take a risk and send his letter through the post like he would for any other school.
With a sheet of plain paper, and in his neatest handwriting, he wrote:
Dear Professor McGonagall,
I write to inform you that I would like to accept my place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
As my guardians seem unable to explain what they know of Hogwarts, I ask if you could please send further information of the school, along with another copy of the shopping list, (as my relatives seem to have misplaced my original).
I hope to see you in September.
Kind Regards,
Harry Potter
There, that should work. It was both polite and to the point. Also, by blaming the Dursleys for his missing shopping list he had avoided making a poor impression on a teacher at a school he had never even attended. Unless, he paused, she thought that he had lost the shopping list and was trying to be sneaky by blaming his relatives for it. Then she would hate him already! Harry hesitated for a moment, torn by indecision, before shaking his head and quickly sliding the letter into the envelope. He sealed it before he could over think it and rewrite the entire letter.
Writing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the front of the envelope and sticking on a stamp he'd nicked from Vernon, Harry left the house and made his way to the red letterbox on the street corner. Afraid he would chicken out, Harry slid the letter in without hesitation.
He released a slow breath. It was out of his hands now.
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The next morning, Harry rose before the sun, too excited to sleep. While there was still a small fear that he was setting himself up for disappointment, he was far too gone to help himself. Whatever happened will happen.
The sky was just turning a deep blue and the house was still quiet. Dudley never woke up before ten during the holidays, so Harry had free reign over their shared bathroom. Ever since the day after the Reptile House incident, Harry had been enjoying early morning baths. Something about it was soothing to both his mind and body and while he would have preferred to do it during evenings before bed, Dudley had a bad habit of complaining to use the bathroom whenever Harry was using it and would knock on the door repeatedly until Petunia got involved. Not exactly a soothing environment.
After a lengthy soak in the hot water, Harry dressed for the day and made his way into the kitchen. Now that Vernon had taken some time off work, he and Petunia had joined Dudley in his late mornings, which left the house to Harry. A lazy morning of eggs, sausages, tea and cartoons lay ahead of him as he settled comfortably in front of the living room television.
A few hours later, with his breakfast eaten and mindless entertainment playing on the television, Harry felt as relaxed as he had ever been as he lounged on the sofa. At least he did until there was a thunderous knock on the front door.
Leaping up, he turned off the television and hurried his dishes to the kitchen sink. It wasn't worth the ensuing argument if Vernon or Petunia caught him enjoying himself in their home.
While he was washing his dishes, he heard the rest of the household wake up and Vernon stomping down the stairs. "Alright, I'm coming, hold your horses." Harry wasn't paying it any mind, until he heard Vernon's gasp of horror.
A deep voice spoke with a thick west country accent, "Morning! Little Harry wouldn't happen to be in, would he?" Harry was more than a little surprised by this as he had never had a visitor before, especially one that referred to him as little Harry.
Drying his hands, he made his way out of the kitchen and into the hallway, where he saw Vernon shaking in front of a giant overcoat laden torso. He heard a whimpering sound from his left and saw Petunia cowering on the staircase, holding a confused looking Dudley in her arms.
"Aren't you going to invite me in? We've got a long day ahead of us and I'd really like to get started." The giant stranger's voice sounded a little concerned about Vernon's lack of a verbal reaction, but it was this request for an invitation inside his home that seemed to startle him into some action.
"I demand you leave at once! This is my home, and I don't want you here!" Vernon squeaked out pathetically, "You are not welcome here!" With this he made a silly sort of gesture at the stranger, as if he were banishing a mystical evil.
The stranger, rather pointedly, ignored this. "Where's Harry? I came because we got his letter. He wants an explanation, cause you lot made a piss poor job of it." With this new information, both Vernon and Petunia turned to look at Harry, not with anger but betrayal. He would have asked why if it wasn't for what happened next.
The giant stranger bent his head low and peeked into the house through the small space Vernon's wide frame left. He stared at Dudley on the staircase for a long moment before asking tentatively, "Harry is that you? You're…err…a little different than what I expected." It was this more than anything that stirred Harry into action. Being mistaken for Dudley was an insult as far as he was concerned.
Stepping forward and into the giant's line of sight, Harry said firmly, "I'm Harry."
The giant had smiled at him in recognition before he had even spoken. "Of course, you are. You look just like your dad." Harry was surprised for the second time in as many minutes.
"You knew my dad?"
"Course I did. Now, you wouldn't mind inviting me in, would you? Like I said, we've a long day ahead of us."
Harry, finally remembering his manners, said, "Please come in Mr.-?"
"Professor Rubeus Hagrid. But you can just me Hagrid outside of class."
It was that more than the mention of his letter that had made Harry realise that Hogwarts was in fact real and had responded to his letter with incredible speed. Somehow, Hagrid managed to squeeze through the doorway (it almost looked as if it had expanded for him) and Harry led him into the living room where he took a seat on the sofa, taking it all up by himself. It creaked dangerously under his weight, but by some miracle it managed to hold. While he was marvelling internally at Hagrid's height (eight feet at least!) a juvenile excitement seemed to take over him. He had never entertained a guest before, and he wanted to see what the Dursleys made such a fuss about.
"Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Water?" He asked as politely as he could. Hagrid smiled and, with the air of a man who had travelled many miles, he let out an enormous sigh.
"I'll have tea, if you wouldn't mind. Milk please, and three sugars."
Harry made his way into the kitchen, ignoring his shivering (and still confused in Dudley's case) relatives. He quickly fixed Hagrid a cup of tea in the largest mug he could find and made his way back into the living room, where the giant was being confronted by Vernon, who finally seemed to have regained his courage.
"I demand you leave our home! The boy will not be leaving with you, so go before I call the police!" Vernon was speaking with a stronger voice than he had before, but his legs were still shaking. He was genuinely terrified. This might have given Harry pause if he weren't so annoyed with being called boy in front of his new teacher.
"The boy can decide that for himself, thank you very much," Harry said coldly. He could feel his cheeks beginning to heat up. He couldn't believe that his relatives were going out of their way to embarrass him. Actually, he could. They always had to ruin everything. Harry handed Hagrid his tea and took a seat by the window, where he could observe the entire room. From there he could see Petunia lurking by the door.
Hagrid turned to face Harry taking a sip from his mug. "Cheers Harry. You wrote you lost your shopping list, didn't you? Professor McGonagall wrote up another one for you this morning." He reached into the many pockets of his heavy brown overcoat and handed Harry the letter he pulled out. A letter identical to the one from yesterday with one key difference; it now said Smallest Bedroom instead of Cupboard Under the Stairs.
Harry shook his head with wonder. "Professor McGonagall uses witchcraft to know exactly where people sleep?" It was creepy, but in a cool sort of way. Hagrid choked into his mug.
"Don't ever say that to her. She's nice if you behave but she doesn't tolerate cheek, even from other teachers," he chuckled. "Anyway, it's not her who knows where students are, it's the Book of Admittance. As soon as a kid's name is first written by the Quill of Acceptance on its pages it can locate them anywhere in the world when their letter is due." Harry was intrigued by this process, but before he could ask any questions about this Petunia cut in.
"We've already told you he won't be going! That was the deal we made with the old man! We take him in, and we're protected. Nothing about the boy going to that school!" Harry became increasingly unsettled by every word that came from Petunia's mouth. Protected from what?
"Dumbledore promised you that he would never remove Harry from your care, yes, however," Hagrid, who had seemed so friendly a second ago, now had a devious smirk across his face, "I don't recall making you any promises that night."
Petunia, already pale, now turned as white as a sheet. It was only this that made Harry bite his tongue. She looked as though she might faint at the smallest provocation. So instead, he turned to Hagrid and repeated the question that had been rattling around in his brain for the last few minutes.
"You knew my dad?" He asked eagerly. Hagrid turned away from Petunia and towards Harry, his friendly smile returning to his face.
"Of course, I did! I was his Care of Magical Creatures Professor, wasn't I? And your mum of course. James and Lily were both excellent students," he said reminiscing, "but they were better friends."
James and Lily. Just the sound of their names brought back blurry memories, memories of memories really, of a tall bespectacled man who laughed a lot and a warm woman who smiled down at him, her thick, long dark red hair always falling over her face like a curtain. Slowly, he remembered that Hagrid had said something else.
"Hang on, did you just say Care of Magical Creatures? As in dragons and unicorns and stuff?" He asked hurriedly, eyes wide. "Are they real? And you said that Hogwarts teaches it? And my parents went to Hogwarts? They were like me? A witch and a wizard?" Harry had only meant to ask one question, but found the rest falling out of his mouth, one after the other. He had only stopped to take a breath and would have continued his verbal bombardment if Hagrid hadn't raised a hand to forestall him and turned to face the Dursleys.
"Dumbledore told me it was a possibility that he might not know everything. That maybe you were making some misguided attempt to protect him from the truth. But he doesn't know ANYTHING!" Hagrid's volume had increased with each word until he shouted the last, taking Harry and Vernon by surprise, and tried to stand up. What surprised them even more, however, was Petunia's response.
"Of course, we didn't tell him!" She shouted her face now blotched red with anger, completely unrecognisable from the pale, terrified woman from a moment ago. "Your kind took my family! My parents! Who didn't see the risk in raising a witch! And when your kind killed them right in front of me, for spawning the little bitch, where did she go? Right back to that school of hers and forgot all about them. Left me behind to pick up the pieces. Left me with her son too when she went and got herself killed!" Petunia shouted, not so much at Hagrid but the world at large. It seemed as if she had been waiting years to get this off her chest, as she began to breathe deeply and steadily when she was finished.
Hagrid looked just as shocked as Harry did, having promptly sat back down when Petunia began her tirade and now even looked a little apologetic.
After a moment of tense silence, Vernon moved to comfort her, but she shook him off. She glared at Hagrid through narrow eyes. "He won't be going. I won't allow it." For a moment, Harry was touched, thinking she didn't want him to get hurt. The moment was ruined, however, when she said, "The old man told me the protection wouldn't work if he leaves here." Harry felt like an idiot. Of course, she was concerned about herself and her family, and not him. Never him.
It was only after he thought that, did her words finally click for him. "That's the second time she's mentioned protection. Is that protection from your kind? Is that what happened to my parents? To my grandparents?" Hagrid turned between the Dursleys and Harry repeatedly, looking unsure for a moment, before sighing.
"I came here expecting to teach you about Hogwarts but not..." he trailed off seeming unsure, before he said, "Everyone knows. You can't go to school without knowing your family's story. It's just not right." Harry waited while Hagrid stared into the unlit electric fireplace collecting his thoughts. After a minute he finally spoke.
"You said "your kind". That's not right. It's our kind. Witches and wizards. There are people like us all over the world, Harry, in every country and culture, hiding in plain sight of the Muggles, and in places they can never reach. Once, a long time ago, we used to live together, wizards and Muggles, but it was never in harmony. The two sides always divided themselves up and fought each other out of fear and ignorance. Centuries ago, it got so bad that we had to separate ourselves from them as completely as we could and when that wasn't enough, we placed the Veil over the world, an illusion so powerful only small children and the most open minded of Muggles can see through it." He glanced at the Dursleys. "Or those given permission."
"However, this wasn't enough for some people. Some witches and wizards thought our powers made us superior to Muggles. They thought it was our "natural destiny" to subjugate them." Vernon and Petunia looked torn between anger and fear at this. "Every so often a group of them will try to turn this opinion into a reality, but every time we manged to beat them back." Hagrid paused again, as though working himself up to something, before continuing.
"More recently though this idea of magical supremacy was being led by an immensely powerful wizard and there was a war between those who wanted to subjugate Muggles and those that wanted to protect them. No one is really sure when the war really started. Most think it was when the enemy leader outright declared it in front of the whole world back in 1970. Dumbledore reckons it started as far back as 1951 when an entire Auror squadron was killed in Germany without a single trace of evidence left behind. All I know is that we spent eleven terrible years fighting the Sixth Great Wizarding War."
Harry swallowed. This was crazy. A magical war? Six of them? And his parents had gotten mixed up in the last one? Were they crazy too? "Their leader, the powerful wizard who kicked it all off, what was his name?" Hagrid grimaced.
"We don't like to say his name, you see. He commanded his soldiers and supporters to never speak it, so anyone who did was an enemy in his eyes. He placed a Taboo on his own name so that anyone who dared speak it would be found and killed immediately as a message to everyone else." Hagrid shook his head, lost in bad memories. "That's how it always was with the Death Eaters. They could never fight head on, and they always seemed to attack when we were at our most vulnerable. The ones we caught were proud to explain how their leader had taught them all about guerrilla tactics at their trials." Hagrid made a noise of disgust which made clear his opinion on that idea. "They hardly ever fought capable fighters deliberately, always going after the weakest of us instead."
"Death Eaters?" Harry asked. Hagrid shrugged. "It's what we called them. I never liked it, but I wasn't going to use the name he gave them; The Knights of Walpurgis." Hagrid scoffed.
Harry leaned forward, not one to be distracted (most of the time) and said, "You still haven't told me his name." Hagrid looked sheepish, as though he had been hoping that Harry would forget.
"You mustn't repeat it." Hagrid warned him rather unnecessarily. It wasn't as if he was gonna call magical murderers to his doorstep. He waited for Hagrid to produce a pen and paper (hopefully with magic!) in order to write it down, but then he just came out and said it.
"It's Lord Voldemort."
Harry leapt out of his chair, and looked out the window, half expecting to see a gang of evil wizards marching up the street. "You just said to never say the name out loud! What if they come here?"
Hagrid looked apologetic. "Sorry, I probably should have said something sooner, but the war has been over for years. The name is no longer under a Taboo."
Harry frowned, feeling uncertain. Just as felt he was beginning to understand, something else came up. "I don't understand. If the war is over, then why do the Dursleys need protection?"
Hagrid looked at him sadly, with the air of a man about to impart grave news. In the years to come, Harry would regard the next few minutes as some of the most important in his life. Where the first of many truths were revealed to him, and he finally became the slightest bit aware of the path he had been set on since the day he was born. However, in that moment he simply took his seat again, blissfully unaware of how his paradigm was about to be shifted.
"It's not the Dursleys that need protection." Hagrid said gruffly. "It's you."
"What?"
Hagrid took a slow breath and said, "You see, your mum and dad were the embodiment of everything Death Eaters hated. Two people of different backgrounds finding happiness together. A person born from Muggles, marrying a pure-blood." Hagrid sneered at the word pure. "Having a child together. It was everything the Death Eaters wanted to destroy. To hear them speak of it, you would think the existence of half-bloods would lead directly to Muggles subjugating us. It was ridiculous, but it was something a lot of people honestly believed, and a some of those damned fools were willing to kill over it."
"Your parents weren't going to take this lying down of course. Like a lot of young witches and wizards, they left behind their education at the Magisterium, but instead of going into hiding like most did, they became Aurors; Dark Wizard Hunters." Harry had never heard of anything cooler than a Dark Wizard Hunter. To think he had thought he was a mutant. Wizards were definitely better.
"Your parents even went up against You-Know-Who a few times. They were getting more and more famous as the war went on because not many people had fought him head on and lived to tell the tale. It was giving people hope, that these two enemies of the Death Eaters were living and thriving in defiance. Well, You-Know-Who couldn't let that stand, could he?" Hagrid's voice had turned soft now, as though he didn't want Harry to hear what happened next.
"It all ended on Halloween, back in '81."
Harry's stomach clenched. Of course, that's where it ended. He had allowed himself to get wrapped up in the tale of two heroes, so much so, that he had forgotten where their story ended. With their orphaned son having to learn about them from a complete stranger.
Hagrid continued. "Your parents had been on the run with you for over a year, living in safe houses and Auror Citadels all around the world. We found out later that one of their allies was a spy for the other side and was constantly giving away their location. But they eventually settled down for a few months in a village in the west country called Godric's Hollow. We thought they were safe then. We know now that the Death Eaters were planning massive attacks on Ministries all over the world. Four of his Acolytes even led an assault on the capital of the Confederacy; Memphis."
"But it was all a diversion for his real target. Your family." Hagrid said. Harry swallowed, feeling his anxiety building up. "He found the cottage you were staying in and there must have been a hell of a fight because once the Aurors arrived all that was left of it was rubble. Dumbledore was still Magister at the time and ordered the first responders to a temporary vow of silence. He called me and made me take you to a Healer he trusted, before bringing you here." He finished.
Harry waited, but when it became clear that Hagrid would not continue, he prompted, "What about my parents? And what happened to Voldemort?" Hagrid flinched.
"Don't say his name!" He hissed before continuing. "No one knows what happened to You-Know-Who. His body was never found. But those who he bewitched to do his bidding suddenly woke up and turned themselves in. Some of his followers claimed he must be dead and surrendered. But most of his Death Eaters either ran or fought until they were killed or captured."
"Your parents were found near you in the rubble. You were completely unharmed except for that scar on your head. Whatever James and Lily did that night in Godric's Hollow protected you and ended the war. They're still remembered as heroes. You should feel proud of them Harry." Hagrid smiled a teary smile. "Your mum and dad saved the world."
At that moment, Harry felt too numb to be proud. So, he simply repeated his earlier question in order to distract himself. "If the war is over, why do the Dursleys need protection?"
Hagrid looked more awkward now than ever. "It's not just the Dursleys that need protection. They're only targets because they're related to you. When You-Know-Who killed your parents he tried to kill you too. What made him so terrifying in the first place was his complete mastery of Dark magic. He invented three spells so vile they're known as unforgivable. One of them was called the Killing Curse. If it touches you, it means a painful and near instant death. For everyone except for you."
"You survived the unsurvivable curse with nothing more than a scar. You're the son of the two heroes who ended the last war. You're the survivor. The Boy Who Lived."
"Your survival kept the hope your parents gave the Confederacy alive. If any of You-Know-Who's followers managed to kill you, that hope would have died with you. Dumbledore said you would only find safety with your last remaining blood relatives, so while you live here, anyone with intention to harm you can't even approach the vicinity of your home. This whole town was made safe just for you. But only until you come of age. Before then you have to learn how to protect yourself, which means you have to come to Hogwarts."
Harry started. He had forgotten why Hagrid was even here. Now this entire thing, the murder of his parents, seemed like one big pitch to get him to go to a stupid school. He scowled and rose to his feet. "Does this look like I need protection?" He extended both hands and twin blue fireballs erupted on his palms. At the same time everything in the room that wasn't pinned down (but the sofa as Hagrid was much too heavy) levitated three feet in the air. After a moment, Harry lowered everything gently to the floor, extinguished the blue fireballs and sat back down in his seat as dignified as he could, trying to avoid showing how tired that display left him. He had done all those separately before, but never all at once.
Hagrid looked surprised, then impressed for about a moment, before he turned to Harry with a knowing smile. "That was dead impressive! To think you managed to teach yourself all that without even knowing about magic! But I'm guessing it cost you, didn't it? Feeling a little tired, are we?" Hagrid asked teasingly.
Harry remained stubborn for a moment, sitting upright in his chair, but he gave up and slumped against the back and began breathing in deeply, too tired to respond. Hagrid chuckled. "I've met some students who were able to get a good grasp on their powers before school, but I've never met one that was Muggle raised. I think you're gonna do just fine at Hogwarts, Harry."
Harry didn't feel the scowl he wore this time, because he was genuinely curious as to why Hagrid was so certain of his future success. "Why? Because I'm a survivor?" He asked mockingly.
Hagrid shook his head amused. "Nah, it's because magic is much less costly when it's done with a wand." He said simply.
Harry froze, then smiled slowly. Hagrid knew he had him with that and Harry didn't even care. The idea of not feeling like he ran a hundred miles every time he tapped into his powers (Magic, he corrected himself) was an attractive one. Much too attractive to pass up on.
Petunia didn't feel the same. Removing herself from Vernon's grasp (who was still hiding in the corner after Harry's earlier display) she said, "He won't be going to that school! I've already decided!" Hagrid looked exasperated.
"Harry, do you mind giving us the room for a minute? I need to speak with your aunt and uncle." Harry looked between Hagrid and Petunia, and while he was amused by the idea of having two people fight over him, it wasn't enough to want to stick around to watch. Still, he wanted something from Hagrid, and this seemed like a good time to ask.
"I'll go if you promise to help me with my school shopping. I haven't got a clue where to buy wizard supplies." Hagrid winked at him.
"Why do you think I'm here?" Harry smiled at him and happily left the room. In the hallway, he spotted Dudley's tail end as he fled upstairs, slamming his bedroom door closed behind him. Clearly someone is in awe of my earlier display. Still smiling, he went to the kitchen and helped himself to a large glass of orange juice and some leftover sausages to get his energy back up, before making his way to his room.
Closing his door behind him and sitting at his new desk, Harry opened his Hogwarts letter and began to read it properly, with his mind clear, for the first time, and examined his school list closely.
First-year students will require:
Three sets of school uniform (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for ceremonial wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon-hide or similar)
One pair of mermish crystal goggles
One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Spellman's Syllabary by Rosana Amorim
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Journey through the Wizarding World by Conrad Paxton
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Vablatsky
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Numerology and Grammatica by Una Twain
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
Secrets of the Known Universe by Calypso Amon
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
Beginner's Healing by Jason Aegle
ARTIFICES
One wand
One bronze Ouroboros
One cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
One WOMBAT Level Potions Kit
One brass telescope
One set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
London wasn't exactly his backyard, but Harry had been there enough times to know that he would be unlikely to find any of this stuff in the capital.
Capital, Harry remembered. Hadn't Hagrid mentioned something about a wizard capital? Memphis? Before he could think on this any further, he heard a voice calling him from downstairs. Climbing down the steps he was disappointed to see Hagrid by the door.
"Are you leaving already?" Harry asked sadly.
Hagrid raised his eyebrows, "I told you I was here to take you shopping, didn't I?" In fact, he had not, only saying that he would help him, so Harry had assumed that meant giving him directions. "Go grab a jacket or something. It looks like it might rain." Hagrid said, peeking out the open front door.
Grinning, (he couldn't remember smiling so much in one morning) Harry did so. Pulling on a green windbreaker, he reached under his bed for the loose floorboard and took his entire bundle of cash, all meticulously kept in a large envelope and tied together with a rubber band and stuffed it in his bag. After a moment's consideration he removed the Walkman and his books as he wouldn't be needing them. He was going on a magical trip, so there was no way he could get bored today.
With that he went downstairs, just in time to see the living room door slam closed. Harry glanced at Hagrid. "What did you say to them exactly?"
Hagrid looked unaffected by the morning's events. "Nothing that wasn't the truth." He shrugged and looked Harry over. "Now, are you ready? We've got a long day ahead of us."
Harry scowled. "I don't need the bathroom if that's what you're suggesting."
Hagrid chuckled. "Just checking."
Harry let his scowl slip and looked his new teacher up and down in a critical fashion. "You know, I'm really glad Hogwarts sent you to help me, Hagrid."
Hagrid smiled. "Yeah? And why's that?"
Harry smiled back cheekily and said, "You look like you're good at carrying things and this school list is long." With that he opened the door and led the way outside, leaving a half-offended, half-amused friendly giant to follow behind him.
Author's Note (very minor spoilers ahead, but it's basically only world building stuff)
First, Hagrid is a Professor, so obviously he was never expelled. It will be made clear why later on. The reason I've written him to be so well spoken is because I can't do accents.
Second, I'm not sure what happened to Lily and Petunia's parents in canon, but in this AU they were killed by Death Eaters and I tried to imply Petunia was made to watch before Aurors arrived in the nick of time to save her. She's terrified of magic because of this.
Another difference, everyone knows and accepts that it was something James and Lily did to defeat Voldemort and not an infant. Harry is a symbol of hope because of his survival, but his parents are considered the real MVPs.
A bigger difference is the International Confederation of Wizards. They weren't really anything in canon, and from what I've googled, they're not supposed to be. They're the magical equivalent of the United Nations which means they're kind of useless.
In this story the wizarding world is a lot more interconnected. I want to make it feel like a wizard from one side of the world would feel more connected to a wizard on the other side of the world that he has never even met before, than he would with his own Muggle next door neighbour, due to their shared secret and magical culture.
They have a capital called Memphis, (Reason why explained later. Not good reasons, just reasons) and the Confederacy is more of a country with each nation being a state. The Ministers of Magic and Chief Warlocks serve in the Coalition, under the Magister, who is basically the President (or the Wizard King from Black Clover) of the Confederation.
The title, Sage of the Six Esoteric Arts, was inspired by Sage of the Six Paths from Naruto. It's meant to signify someone who had mastered all known forms of magic.
The Magister is the commander in chief of the Auror Corps, who are basically a cross between military and police. Law enforcement still exists and manages low level wizard crime. They report to the local ministry, but the Auror Corps have their own ranks outside of the Ministry. They maintain the Statute of Secrecy and protect wizards and muggles from dark wizards and magical creatures. They're the elite fighters (like the Magic Knights, also from Black Clover).
The Magisterium is basically a magic university where especially talented witches and wizards gain their masteries. It has its own organisational system that I'm still figuring out how to explain without pages of exposition but it makes sense (to me at least).
Also, the Veil. To anyone who has read Percy Jackson, this is a fairly obvious discount version of the Mist. Maybe because it's 2021 and surveillance is everywhere (and that Harry Potter was written in the 90s) but it's kind of wild to me that the only thing preventing muggles from finding out are memory charms. Maybe it was supposed to be implied that muggles will eventually find out? Or that they're wilfully ignorant? The reason I named it the Veil was because "look there's a wizard behind the Curtain" seemed a little too on the nose.
Family members of Muggle-borns are only allowed to see through the Veil once the child is school age. So parents (or siblings like Petunia) don't actually notice accidental magic as strange or noteworthy unless its life threatening. And even then they might explain it away later on.
I made the ICW so powerful in this story because I want Voldemort to feel like a global threat. He's threatening the Statute of Secrecy, so of course he's their number one enemy.
Harry's trick with the twin blue fire balls was inspired by Azula, from Avatar, in the Beach episode.
Please review. I'm honestly interested if this makes a lick of sense to anyone else.