Numinous
an experience that makes one fearful yet fascinated, awed yet attracted;
the powerful, personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspired

There was a strange "otherness" that Harry had discovered within himself Before, when he was still the downtrodden little boy who took his beatings like a good little Freak. It was strangely sentient, coming out at the most inconvenient of times. He knew his healing factor was the doings of the whimsical "otherness", as were the times when he found the rare apple or bottle of water in his cupboard. Harry knew that the "otherness" within him was the main reason as to why the Dursley treated him as they did.

Before, Harry would have angrily rejected that "otherness". He would hope that if he got rid of his "otherness", then maybe—just maybe, because surely, the Dursleys only did this for his own good as much as they did theirs—he would finally be accepted into the household as a proper member of the family. The Dursleys would no longer have anything to fear from him if he only got rid of his "otherness". In fact, he wouldn't mind if he still lived in the cupboard under the staircase or continued with his daily chores, if only he was fed and watered a bit more and spared him a single glance of warmth.

Harry knew better than to hope. For all the smarts he had shown in Miss. Honey's classroom, Before Harry was surprisingly daft, blind to the inner workings of the human mind and the main motivation behind their actions.

Ultimately, people were greedy, selfish beings not worth the trouble of saving. The nature of mankind was rotten to the core—self-centered, egotistical, and blind to the consequences of their actions. They were fear-mongers who breed chaos into the land simply because they feared that which they could not understand. They laughed at those in need of aid, mocked the bloated bellies of starving children, yet turned around to ask others for more money to feed their fattened bellies.

People liked to praise the superiority of one race over another, the greatness of one religion over the other, and the power that men seemingly possessed over women inherently. People liked to call themselves progressive, constantly changing and moving with the times, yet still, people cling to the past and the tempting ideals of what should have been abandoned.

Ironically, for all that people refused to let go of the past, people had the sickening habit of forgetting that which should not have been forgotten—Christopher Columbus and the rape of the Americas, the erasure of indigenous peoples, Leopold II of Belgium and the exploitation of the Congo, World War II era Japan and their establishment of comfort women, and so forth. People were disgustingly backwards with what they chose to remember and forget.

There was no salvation—no redemption for the wicked, Harry included. At the very least, Harry was self-aware of the wicked nature that could be found within himself as well. He had no preconceptions that he was just as greedy and selfish as the next person, if not more. Harry knew what he wanted, and he would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. He was tired of living his life for the sake of other people, not knowing when he would be allowed the freedom of his own. So, if he couldn't be given his freedom as the Dursleys would never allow such a preposterous thought, he would simply take it himself.

He would take what he could get and more of what he couldn't, and it would be over his dead body that he would ever give anything back.

Petunia had the bright idea to travel up to London so that Trash could experience the wonders of one of the most famous cities in the world. She wanted Trash to see the glory that was the Buckingham Palace with his own eyes, the magnificent sight of Big Ben. The main reason for the trip to London was so that it could serve as a prelude to Trash's eighth birthday and a very early celebration to commemorate Trash entering into his fourth year.

Scum was absolutely against the idea of going all the way up to London, but quickly changed his tune when he realized that he could buy a gift for his boss's wife, Elaine Wartner. The only time Vernon was able to put his brain to good use was through bribery, flattery, and plain old arse-kissing. It could not be said enough that Petunia truly had a talent with words. If only the United Kingdom didn't have such a bad habit of only placing women in positions of power to them off the glass cliff, then Petunia would have had a flourishing career as a dirty politician while the public would be none the wiser.

Harry was saddled to join the Dursleys on their trip to London as well. Petunia did a great job of ruining Harry's reputation amongst the social circles of Privet Drive and more so throughout Little Whinging, but that backfired on her when the time came to look for someone willing to look after Harry. The only one who was ever willing to watch over Harry while the Dursley trio went out was Arabella Figg, the aged widow who lived on Wisteria Walk. However, Mrs. Figg was out of town for the week and thus, there was no one who could look after Harry.

Petunia made the final decision to take the South Western Railway to Waterloo Station, which would save them more money in the end. Time was precious, but even more so when it came to money in the money-pinching hands of Petunia. Plus, no proper born and raised British folk would dare to drive for the full hour it would take to get to London when there were trains for that. They weren't American.

The train ride itself to London was relatively uneventful as Petunia gave him three pounds to keep himself busy. That, and because she had given Dudley ten pounds to go wild with and had given Harry a cock-and-bull story to explain the significantly smaller amount of money Harry was given for people watching.

"Harry dear, I know it may seem a little unfair that Dudley is getting ten pounds," Petunia said in a simpering tone. Harry had to give Petunia props since her smile looked completely natural and genuine. "Last time we went on a family outing, I gave you fifteen pounds to buy yourself that game you wanted so badly. You lost the money I gave you, so I need you to show me I can trust you with that amount of money again, okay?"

The people sitting near them were nodding their heads in subtle approval. They liked the lesson Petunia was trying to seemingly impart upon Harry. In all honesty, Harry could see where Petunia was coming from if the story that she had made up from the top of her head was real. Petunia was smart enough to shine herself, as well as Dudley to a small degree, in a good light. Furthermore, she worded her story just right so that regardless of whether he agreed or not, Petunia would still come out from it at the top. If Harry agreed, then good on Petunia for having raised him with a stern hand despite his reputation. If Harry disagreed, then his reputation truly preceded him and poor Petunia, for still trying to turn him back on the straight and narrow.

Truly, Harry had to give Petunia credit where she deserved it. It was still too early for Harry to start wiggling his way out from Petunia's thumb—never Vernon, when Petunia so obviously held all the power.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he said sullenly. If Petunia expected him to act in a certain way, he might as well own up to it while he could. At the very least, he could get genuine practice and feedback on how well he could act and create a mask of his own. Baby steps, he reminded himself.

Petunia smiled warmly at him and waved her hand at him in a dismissive manner. Harry wanted to gag at the warmth Petunia gave him. Before, he would've been over the moon at the pickings of affection Petunia had given him, even if it had only been for appearance's sake. Truly, Before Harry would've been eating out of her hand, starved for affection and grateful for the scraps she would throw at him if he hadn't put himself together.

Harry left Petunia in peace and sat down in one of the empty benches. It was going to be a long ride to London, so he might as well make himself comfortable, especially since he was fortunate enough to be left to his own devices. It was at most, ten minutes of peace to himself. There wasn't much Harry could do with three pounds, so he settled on a quick snooze. There was no way Harry would be to fall asleep with the hustle and bustle from the other passengers, or the sound of the train engine or the railway tracks, but there was little else for him to do but try to grab a bit of shut-eye.

When he opened his eyes, it was to the sensation that someone had cracked an egg on his head. He shivered and opened his eyes. He expected Dudley or perhaps a random kid who recognized him to be standing in front of him. Instead, it was to a man wearing an ecstatic smile on his face. He squinted his eyes at them and did a double take at the sight before him. There was a man kneeled in front of him with a glimmer in his eyes, looking at Harry as though he was before his hero. Harry's first impression of the man was a moron. The man was dressed in a velvet suit with an outrageously frilled cravat and purple top hat that made him look like he walked out from a painting in the London Museum.

Harry was at a loss for words. He suspected that the strange man kneeled before him had cracked the egg over his head, but there was nothing to show it at all. The sensation had left as quickly as it had come, as though it had never happened in the first place. Harry didn't know whether he should ask about the egg or ask why the man was kneeling in front of him, so he settled on, "Is there anything wrong?" Asking a random stranger 'Can I help you?' was just asking for trouble, in his opinion. That was an open invitation to roping him into the unknown.

The man smiled widely and eager shook Harry's hand, still kneeled on the train floor while Harry remained seated. Harry was promptly reminded of the tales of King Arthur during reading class—himself as King Arthur, seated at his throne while a retainer kneeled before him and eager for praise not unlike a dog.

"Harry Potter!" the man nearly yelled in joy. Harry quirked his brow at that. While he was frantically wondering how and why the man knew him and his name, he was more curious as to why the people around them weren't paying a single lick of attention to the odd scene they made. Not a single person spared a glance at them, as though Harry and the strange man weren't in the train car in the first place.

The man continued with his enthusiasm. "Such an honor to meet you here!"

Harry figured that his priority should be to figure out why the man knew who he was and how he was able to find him out. He smiled charmingly at the man and shook his hand assertively. If the man was acting as though he was meeting his hero, Harry might as well feed into the man's delusions, if only to make the man's lips just a bit looser.

"Indeed," he said softly. "And would the mystery man give me the honor to his name?"

The man gasped and looked like he would burst into tears. "It would be my honor! Diggle's the name! Dedalus Diggle!" Dedalus puffed his chest out proudly, as though Harry was supposed to recognize him or at least his family name from somewhere.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Diggle. If you don't mind, would you care to tell me how you know who I am?"

"The pleasure is all mind, Mr. Potter. Please, call me Dedalus!" the man said cheerfully. "Why, I'd know that scar anywhere!"

Harry wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. The man was either cunning enough to outmaneuver Harry and put on a good act or he was simply that air-headed, to answer his question in such a way that it left him with even more questions without even meaning to at all. Judging by his body language, lack of self-awareness, and utter shamelessness at kneeling on the train ground just to shake Harry's hand, Harry knew that the man was just as moronic as he thought.

"Well then, Dedalus, congratulations. You've found me. Why don't you come join me on the bench, unless the floor is really that comfortable? I might be inclined to join you if that was the case." He wasn't about to go in blindly, so Harry figured he might as well act as though he was in the know all along. That way, Dedalus might let some things slip without ever knowing that Harry didn't know in the first place.

Dedalus laughed heartily. He picked himself up from the floor and took the seat next to Harry. "On your way to London, I assume? Finally venturing off to visit the Wizarding World at last?"

Harry wanted to laugh. The man was absolutely, barking mad. Yet, Harry couldn't shake off the thought that the man was completely serious with his question. If there was a Wizarding World, then that would mean that witches and wizards were real. Going along with that trend, magic would be real as well. Putting two and two together, the Wizarding World was more than likely separated from the regular world, especially given the horrid name, the "Wizarding World". And if that truly was the case, then Petunia and the scum wouldn't be able to follow him.

Harry considered that maybe his healing factor could be attributed to the so-called magic. If that was truly the case, then that would also explain why the Dursleys had treated him as though they were both terrified of him yet determined to beat the living lights out of him. Scum had likely thought of the brilliant idea to beat the magic out of Harry and Petunia didn't discourage the man despite how ridiculous the notion was.

The man seriously asked Harry if he would be visiting the Wizarding World, meaning that Harry was a wizard, or that he had magic in him at the very least. The man's familiarity with Harry suggested that Harry was somehow a very famous, well-known figure in the Wizarding World and it was tied to the scar on his forehead.

It was a gamble, but unless he played it risky, Harry knew that he would never make it to the top. He still had no idea what the top even was, or where it would take him, but Harry was determined to make it out at the top regardless.

"That I am," Harry said with a smile. "If it isn't too much trouble, would you care to be my guide in? I would hate to trouble my dear aunt when she's already so nervous about my first visit."

Dedalus grabbed Harry's hand and shook it vigorously. "It would be my greatest pleasure, Mr. Potter! I was going back to Diagon Alley so it's no trouble at all, lad!"

"I appreciate it, Dedalus." Harry smiled, the corners of his lips just a tad bit wider.

Harry supposed that Diagon Alley was the main entrance into the magical world. That, and while Harry asked Dedalus to guide him into the magical world, Dedalus immediately agreed since they were apparently going the same way. Harry wanted to ask if Diagon Alley was considered the capitol of the Wizarding World but held his tongue.

For the rest of the train ride, Dedalus engaged Harry in mindless chatter. The conversation was one-sided but Dedalus didn't seem to mind. Rather, Dedalus probably didn't notice that the most Harry did to engage in the so-called conversation was to make the occasional nod, laugh here and there, and look as though he was stewing on his thoughts.

Petunia came looking for Harry when the train had arrived at the station. Her eyes passed over Dedalus and Harry. She walked through their train car and continued walking down the train aisle. Harry's suspicion that Dedalus had done something to keep other people's attention from them was confirmed. Harry reckoned that it could be an invisible barrier that people could still come and go through from but prevented people without magic from noticing their presence. It could be an illusion of sorts that planted a suggestion in people's minds that nothing was out of place, or to ignore them entirely.

"Dedalus, I believe you should take it down now before my aunt goes mad trying to find me. She is after all, without magic."

Harry didn't know if there was a particular term for people without magic in the Wizarding World. Given how star-struck Dedalus was when he caught sight of Harry, he came to the conclusion that he was viewed in a similar way people thought of the Pope, someone who could do no harm. With that in mind, he wondered if Dedalus would let him know if there really was a term for people without any magic, and any other unfamiliar terms that people in the Wizarding World had adopted in their everyday use of vocabulary.

"Oh, right! Your aunt is a muggle. Completely slipped my mind. Right, the Disillusionment Charm will be a tough one to learn once you get to Hogwarts. I reckon you'll learn that in your seventh year."

Dedalus look out a wooden stick from the inside of his sleeve and twirled it around him fancily, yet merely tapped Harry on the shoulder. There was no following sensation, but Harry knew that whatever had made them seemingly invisible before was released. People had started to notice them again but didn't mind anything out of the ordinary that two people had materialized out from nowhere.

Dedalus lived to Harry's expectations thankfully. He made a note to himself to refer to regular people as muggles, as Dedalus had kindly informed him. The stick was probably a wand and it made Harry wonder if the wand was a focus for Dedalus to channel his magic through, similar to how pipes channeled water, or if Dedalus had some sort of affinity for magic through the wand. As Harry had now realized, if there was a Wizarding World, that meant there was an entire society separate from the regular world. With that came its own government, police force, hospitals, and schools. Hogwarts was probably a school for children with magic, that went up to the seventh year. Harry wasn't too sure if the Wizarding World would follow with similar concepts and terminology from the "Muggle World"—he might as well keep up the theme to keep people from realizing he was essentially entering the world of magic blind.

Petunia reemerged into the train car and marched toward Harry now that the disillusionment charm was released. "Where have you been, young man? I was worried sick when you disappeared for the entire train ride."

Harry wanted to gag at how convincing Petunia could be with her simpering mother-act. He wondered if he could use magic without anything to channel it through. His healing factor acted without his prompting, so maybe if he actually nudged his magic, the "otherness", into doing what he wanted, it would.

Before, Harry had dreamed of commanding the Dursleys to stop hurting him, and they listened because they realized the wrongs they had committed. Perhaps Harry could use Petunia's "lessons" against her and give her a suggestion.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia." Harry started, making it sound as though he was genuinely apologetic for his actions. Petunia narrowed her eyes at him, not believing him in the slightest. "But you remember Mr. Diggle, right?"

Petunia faltered for a moment, before she nodded hesitantly. She looked more confident as the seconds ticked by and nodded her head again. "Yes, it's been a while Mr. Diggle."

Dedalus looked confused at the sudden change in Petunia. Harry smiled charmingly at Dedalus again. He hoped that his "charm-speak" would work on people with magic as well.

"Don't tell me you forgot to tell Aunt Petunia you would show me around London, did you?"

Dedalus immediately shook his head. "Of course not, my boy! Petunia, it's been a while!"

Petunia and Dedalus started to engage in small talk and acted as though they were old friends. Harry wanted to laugh. Magic was so convenient. He was a bit concerned when his Magic had "twitched", or as close to twitching as it could get from how Dedalus had referred to Harry.

They let the flow of the crowd guide them into exiting the train and met up with Scum and Trash. Oddly, Scum and Trash didn't need any compelling to somehow remember Mr. Diggle. In fact, they gave Harry a dismissive smirk, thinking they had arranged for Dedalus to look after Harry for their London trip.

Dedalus tipped his hat towards the Dursleys and ushered him in the opposite direction from where the Dursleys were exiting. Like how they burned away the hour on the train, Dedalus walked at a relatively brisk pace and guided Harry through the crowds of London.

"Diagon Alley will be a wonderful experience before you join Hogwarts, I assure you."

Harry was content to follow Dedalus and was slightly put down by the sight when Dedalus stopped in his tracks. In front of them was an old, dingy building that looked out of place compared to the more pristine and modern, connecting buildings. Unlike the surrounding buildings, the older building lacked a sign plate and people seemed to be actively avoiding the building entirely. Harry supposed there was a reason the building looked so unassuming since the magical world was so starkly separated from the regular world.

Dedalus held the door open for Harry and they both entered the pub. Harry was quick to brush his fridge so that it would hide his scar when he normally wouldn't bother. He didn't want more fanatics like Dedalus to swarm him. Apparently, they didn't know the age-old concept of personal space, privacy, and courtesy as Dedalus had shown him on the train.

Harry gently tugged on Dedalus's sleeve before he could get any further within the pub. "Dedalus, would you mind keeping my little secret for the day? I would hate to be swamped by other people on my very first trip to Diagon Alley, but I know I can trust you, right?"

Dedalus immediately nodded in agreement. Hook, line, sinker. "Of course, —lad. Very honored by your trust in me. Well, welcome to the Leaky Cauldon, the entrance into the Magical World!"

Dedalus leaded Harry towards the bar. "Morning, Tom!"

The barman smiled at the sight of Dedalus. "The usual, Digs?"

Dedalus waved his hand in a dismissive, but not impolite manner. "Not this time. I have the pleasure of guiding this young man here." Dedalus gave an introducing wave of his arm toward Harry.

"And who might this fellow be?" Tom asked with a wide smile. He was very friendly, and Harry had to wonder if Tom knew how much power he held with his position as the barman in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry considered opening up his own shop in the future or perhaps working at the Leaky Cauldron when he was a bit older.

Harry nodded his head respectfully at nod. "Hello, sir. You can call me Caelum."

The library was a wonderful safe haven for Harry and he devoured all the books he could ravenously. Knowledge was power, and Harry needed all that he could get. Astronomy was a short-lived interest in Harry, but he memorized all the constellations since one never knew when they might have a need for something. Caelum the Chisel, one of the eighty-eight constellations—Caelum Scalptorium or the engraver's chisel. It sounded very fitting for Harry since he would carve out his own path.

"Very nice meeting you, Caelum. I reckon I'll be seeing you often once you get to Hogwarts, 'ay?"

"Indeed. I look forward to our future meetings."

"Well, off you go now. Don't want to keep you from the alley."

Harry waved at Tom as Dedalus guided him towards the back of the pub. They walked into an empty hallway with a brick wall at the end. Dedalus turned to Harry with a smile and took his wand out. "Try and remember the order, lad. It'll be useful when you need to do it yourself later."

Harry smiled and nodded. Dedalus tapped his wand against the bricks in a particular order and in response, the bricks shuddered. Once Dedalus had put his wand away, the bricks began to fold away and rearrange itself so that there was an entry way. Harry noticed a faintly transparent sheen between the pub and the wall.

"Is that the barrier separating the worlds?" Harry asked curiously.

It wouldn't do any harm to ask since this was his first time seeing the entrance to the magical world. Dedalus laughed heartily. "If you can call a brick wall a barrier, why yes. Yes, it is."

Harry wanted to frown. There was clearly a transparent sheen, faint as it may be but still easily noticeable to spot. In the dim lighting of the hallway, the faint sheen looked like it was glowing very softly. Harry figured that he could do some research on that, ask the right questions here and there until someone finally quelled his questions.

Harry walked through the barrier without hesitation and was immediately taken aback by the rush of sheer energy—magic, he corrected himself—that flooded through him. There was a faint buzzing in his ears and oddly, he knew it was from all the magic around him. It was a pleasantly warm feeling, not the warmth he often sought out Before during winter, but one that warmed him from the inside. His magic, as he now knew to call the "otherness" felt like it was purring contently like a sun-bathing cat.

All the tension that he held since his meeting with Dedalus was instantly released. There were crowds of people busied with their own business. It was a wide alley lined by shops along the way. Harry could see a store display for brooms, what appeared to be a pet store, and even an apothecary for potions. Magic was in the air, literally.

Harry's magic, which he hadn't noticed felt so muted in the normal world compared to finally entering the magical world, agreed with him wholeheartedly. And now that his magic didn't feel so smothered, Harry noticed that there was a new "otherness" that was shadowed by his magic that Harry had originally mistaken to be part of his magic, the part that had felt so choked and smothered. His new "otherness" curled within him, content and felt as though it were spreading its wings.

Harry never felt so at home as he did now.

What do you think will be the theme of the next chapter?
1. Appetence: an eager desire, an instinctive inclination; an attraction or a natural bond.
2. Guanxi: a network of social connections based on mutual trust and the balancing of debts by returning favors so that the relationship's benefits are shared by all.
3. Soigné: possessing an aura of sophistication in dress, manner, or design; presented or prepared with an elegance attained through care for the finer details.

*To help you out, the theme is connected to some events that will happen in canon. The plot will loosely follow the canon timeline.
As you might have noticed, it was never stated how old Harry was when Dedalus Diggle bowed to him, after which Petunia interrogated him in the book. I changed it up so that instead, they meet on the train.
Dedalus was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, so in this universe, Arabella Figg will call for a replacement when she can't watch Harry because Dumbledore is a manipulative bastard.