Chapter One – Opposite Worlds Meet
By BananaCarrot-Five
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is owned by Warner Bros. Entertainment and J.K. Rowling.
Harry James Potter never knew life outside the three tall hedges and the lonely and ordinary street that was Privet Drive. He was confined there, being forced to do chores, and do work not normally suited for a ten-year-old boy. He lived in a ridiculously small cupboard that literally resided under the stairs. He was forced to cook any meal he was asked of perfectly or risk a beating and starvation. More times than once Harry would burn the food, resulting in a heavy beating by his beefy uncle and a week or two without food. Harry had been dealing with this lifestyle since he was six years old. Since he was old enough to understand words and actions. Since he was old enough to learn that nobody cared for him, at all, in the world. Harry Potter was alone.
He was constantly forced to do things for his relatives, and even then, in ridiculous timespans. He was forced to listen to his aunt and uncle boast about the world being rid of Lily and James Potter, freaks and drunk drivers. Abnormal people. Harry's parents. He was told on several occasions growing up that they had died in a car crash and the scar on his forehead was the result of it. When he pried further, he was given a strict, three-word rule from his Aunt Petunia. No More Questions! Harry had kept to this for the past five years. No questions on his chores, no questions on his treatment, no questions on his food, no questions on his life, no questions whatsoever. It was how he was raised. It was how he learned to live. And it was bad.
Harry learned what happened when he was smarter than Dudley, his fat excuse for a cousin, in school. He was beaten and punished by his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia for being smarter than "their little Duddleykins." He received no food for that whole week and was hit on a daily basis by his Uncle and his cousin as punishment. He was eight years old. After that horrid week, Harry began intentionally dumbing himself down, which was difficult for him since his fat cousin wasn't smart. Harry refused to allow himself to fail his classes, and he expertly maintained a C- since that ordeal. Since at some points Dudley was worse than Harry, Harry would get a beating and no food as punishment. His school would routinely call the Dursleys offering their services to help Harry, but they were all harshly declined by Aunt Petunia "on Harry's behalf" even if he had no interaction to begin with.
Things came to a head on Dudley's eleventh birthday. Harry's unofficial babysitter, Mrs. Arabella Figg, had broken her leg several days earlier and Harry would be unable to be babysat by her. After Harry had foolishly asked if he could join them seeing no other possibility, he was in for some of the worse pain he could feel. He was poked several times in the ribs and stomach with Dudley's new Smelting's Stick and beaten, by being punched, kicked, slapped, and manhandled by Uncle Vernon. He was furiously tossed into his cupboard, while Aunt Petunia locked the door and Uncle Vernon moved a heavy shelf in front of the door.
That day was one of Harry's longer days. He had no freedom, he was wide awake, he was badly hurt, and he had no way of getting out. He was scared and felt weak and lonely. He truly understood the extent of the abuse dealt to him by the Dursleys. Harry tried to sleep, none the less, and managed to get some sleep. How much? That he would never know. But what he did notice was that his ribs were back in place and his pain was mostly gone. He, again, thanked his made up god, Peter, for healing him. He would soon learn the real way that Peter had "saved" him. But more on that later.
Peter Herring was Harry's first and last friend, as well as the first and last person outside of Dudley's school group that ever spoke to him verbally. Within hours of meeting his new friend, Peter had openly yelled at him stating that he would never be a good friend and didn't ever want to talk to him again. Harry, at that moment, felt as if he had lost a life. It only took him until that night to learn that it was all of Dudley's doing, but the damage had been done. No one ever tried talking to Harry, bar one occurrence, or tried becoming friends with Harry. He was branded as simply being the hated slacker that only cared about himself. Peter carefully approached the boy and apologized to him for acting as he did. But he feared being beat up by five "tough" boys simultaneously, should he continue interacting with him and being friends. Harry nodded. Nobody wanted to go against Dudley, let alone him and four of his thickheaded idiots. It was at this point that Harry disliked anybody being bullied or teased, despite former feelings and reasons.
Then came his birthday. Or, at least, two weeks before his birthday. He was yelled at to get the mail by Uncle Vernon, and Harry hastily got it. Only that day's mail was different. He received a letter! And it was very specifically addressed. It was addressed to a "Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." Harry was intrigued by such a detailed addressed letter. And to him, of all people! Harry gave the remaining mail to his Uncle Vernon, who began babbling on about his sick cousin on vacation. As Harry gingerly went to open the letter, he didn't see that Dudley had seen said letter and was now trying to shuffle across the table to take it from him. He was quick enough, however, as he managed to snatch the letter out of Harry's loose hands and into the hands of his father, Harry's Uncle Vernon.
Harry was furious that he was deprived of a letter specifically addressed to him. Even worse, his uncle seemed to tense up and stare coldly at Harry, and after showing the letter to Aunt Petunia, she too would only stare coldly at him. Dudley whined about not reading Harry's mail, and Uncle Vernon snapped at his son before ripping the letter to shreds and tossing it in the waste bucket. He smiled maniacally at Harry. The next day, two letters specifically addressed to "Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey," arrived at the front mailbox. And several barn owls started to perch at or on the Dursley's home. Uncle Vernon snatched the letters up and again ripped them to shreds before disposing them in their waste bucket. That Friday, four letters appeared at the Dursley's doorstep, still addressed to "Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." Uncle Vernon had enough of the letters at this point, and quite literally boarded up their letterbox, preventing any mail from getting through. That night, Vernon began a tradition that would only last eight days. Nightly burnings of Harry's Hogwarts letters.
Saturday morning came, and as Uncle Vernon was ready to head off for work, he spotted eight, yes eight, identical letters all addressed to "Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." Uncle Vernon also then noticed the large gathering of owls precariously perched in their front yard. He ordered Harry to move to Dudley's old bedroom, and Harry took whatever he had with him as he went to live in Dudley's graveyard, as Harry quite often called it. He didn't see any letters come for him that day, but a horrid shriek coming from Aunt Petunia was enough to understand that something had happened.
Aunt Petunia was trying to make an egg omelet, and she cracked open sixteen eggs from two packages just to find sixteen letters addressed to "Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." The hoard of owls became noticeable. Each day it got worse. Following that Sunday, thirty-two letters were delivered. After that, sixty-four. Then one-hundred and twenty-eight. Then two-hundred and fifty-six. Five-hundred and twelve. One-thousand and twenty-four. It was finally the next Sunday. Uncle Vernon was happily relieved that they wouldn't get any more letters. The house shook. It rumbled. It vibrated. And suddenly, the mailbox popped from the door entirely. The fireplace gate was snapped open. And over two-thousand letters began to flood the house. He tried to grab any of them, but they were flying around too fast for him to grab. When he finally held one, his Uncle Vernon had restrained him and shoved him in the car.
Under any other circumstance, Harry would have been happy to finally sit in the Dursley's car. He always had to walk to school, a four mile walk twice a day, five days a week. Dudley always was driven by Aunt Petunia. Harry was locked in the Dursleys car because thousands of letters addressed to him were currently flying all throughout the house. Minutes later, Aunt Petunia was carrying her purse and a bag filled with canned goods and water. Dudley wasn't allowed his electronics for the sheer reason that Uncle Vernon wanted to leave. He reversed the car and began driving down roads where he had no idea went. That night, they four kipped in the car, with Harry being starved except for a small water bottle. The next morning, following Uncle Vernon's bragging fest of glee for not seeing an owl or letter, he continued driving. All day long. Without stopping. Finally, as the sun was setting, Aunt Petunia noted a janky motel and suggested they rent a room for the night. Uncle Vernon had reluctantly agreed, and they stayed there that night.
It was all over too soon. The next morning, groups of loud hooting could be heard above their room. They also heard the owner banging on their door, demanding entry. Uncle Vernon opened the door, and after yelling at the owner for asking if a "Mr. H. Potter" was expecting one-hundred similar envelopes, barged over to Harry, and demanded he explain himself. Harry was shocked. On the envelope was clearly labeled, "Mr. H. Potter, Room 17, Railview Hotel, Cokeworth." And if there were over a hundred of them, maybe he could sneak out and get one? No such luck. They were out of there in five minutes flat. Uncle Vernon drove, and drove, and drove. It began to lightly shower, but he wasn't stopping. Several times along the way, Aunt Petunia had suggested returning home, but Uncle Vernon had growled in response. He finally stopped when it was pouring rain outside, and he cheerily led the group to the shore where a man whole was clad in a yellow raincoat and a rickety boat was waiting for them.
Harry looked out into the sea to see a small island with a run-down shack on it. Now he knew what Uncle Vernon was doing. The rickety boat carried the group over to the island, where the old man took the second boat that was already tied up and bid farewell to the Dursleys and Harry. It was Tuesday night, hours before his birthday. He made a cake drawing using the built-up sand in the floor, counting down the minutes to his day. Well, his day until it would be ruined by the Dursleys not caring what day it was. As he "made his wish," the door that led to the outside was slammed six times before a nine-foot man that looked three times the size of his overweight Uncle knocked it over and stepped inside. It was the day that Harry Potter's wish would finally come true, if not in its own way.
\-0-0-/
Hermione Jean Granger was angry, lonely, and sad. Her first day of Sixth Year Primary was a disaster. Sure, she had been going to that school since she was five years old, and sure she had been taunted and isolated the same way for five years straight, but it still kicked her in the mind to still have to deal with it. For all her years in Primary, she was dubbed as the "Freaky Bookworm," constantly outshining her peers and impressing her teachers constantly. Surprisingly or unsurprisingly, Hermione took her title to heart, and while she ignored the first half of her dubbed nickname, she took pride in being a bookworm.
Hermione had moved to Crawley when she was just six years old with her parents Helen and Samuel Granger after she had been expelled from her previous school for "frying the main circuit board" in a janitor's closet. Her parents decided to move from Paris to Crawley, claiming they got new jobs and were planning to move anyways, but Hermione was buying none of it. While she knew her expulsion was unfair, she had caused all the bulbs and lights in the building to literally explode. She, using science, came to the illogical conclusion that the sheer pitch of her scream, after being bullied for her hair, was enough to disrupt the electromagnetic connections and temporarily fry them, causing the bulbs to explode.
As she learned several years after, her conclusion was horribly wrong. But back to that later. Her first day of First Year Primary was on October 31, 1985.
Immediately, after showing prior knowledge in most of her subjects, and being teased by a girl she tried befriending, she became the school outcast and immediate was dubbed as the "School Bookworm." From that day onwards, Hermione refused to make or try to make friends, and focused entirely on her schoolwork. Throughout that year, Hermione was accused of hurting students that bullied her as they claimed to have gotten boils on their faces and body while they fled her. But as she could provide nothing that would point blame to her, and considering that the damage a six-year-old girl could've done that she was being accused of impossible, they let it go. By June of 1985, Hermione Granger was now Crawley Primary's "Freaky Bookworm."
After Halloween of 1985, however, she only told her parents that she was happy with her school and doing fantastic academically. She never told her parents about the teasing and the names she was called. As she put it mentally, they didn't need to know as it didn't concern them, it only concerned her. From the 1985-1986 School year to the 1990-1991 school year, Hermione had ignored all negatory comments directed towards her. She was a constant favourite among teachers and was easy to teach. In ways Hermione challenged the teachers to teach better, just by how good she was. She almost always got perfect marks that proportionately reflected how much studying and reading she did. She never talked to any of the kids, and they learned to not talk to her. Inside, she became independent, telling her parents what they wanted her to say, and kept to herself and her grades.
So, despite all of this on September 3, 1990, she still held hope for a taunting-less year. She was ten, and she would be turning eleven in about two weeks' time. But as soon as she walked into Crawley Primary again, she lost any forms of nostalgia which formed over her summer when she was called out for being there, again. Her first class had consisted of a review from the previous year's material, which Hermione happily helped answer any questions the teacher had asked. Hermione, through her years at Crawley Primary, hadn't noticed the subtle change the kids were imposing. They were slowly letting Hermione lead the class for the sheer reason that she wanted to. In a way, Hermione was helping the bullies in her school by "allowing" them to be lazy. That bombshell was finally noticed by Hermione when three days into her new school year, her history teacher had kindly asked, "Somebody other than Miss Granger here answer my questions, with no offense to you, Miss Granger, but I would like class participation as well." Hermione smiled at her teacher and politely retracted her hand. When the rest of her class groaned, she knew that her knowledge and her eagerness to spew correct answers were being taken advantage of.
Hermione, from then on, kept both her head and hand down, leading to several boring classes, and several students eyeing her for a response to teacher inquires. She rarely talked anymore, and it had been a full week before her mental boycott to answer questions was finally broken when her class was asked a painfully obvious question and she shot her hand up faster than one could blink. She knew that in her heart, she loved learning. But she also knew she wouldn't be able to make friends, for the sole purpose that she had no idea how to make friends, with everyone teasing her for years on end. She kept all her emotions bottled up, not able or not wanting to burst, not wanting to fail, not wanting to rely. She had been steadily lessening her contact with her parents, as her situation became dire and more difficult to manage.
As she feared, her parents did notice the steady decrease of contact from their daughter, and the dam of emotions controlling her life. Samuel Granger was not a dumb man, and even though Helen, his wife, could see it, he still mourned for his clearly hurt daughter. He wanted to embrace her, tell her that it would all be okay, but he couldn't do that. He knew that they would have to wait until she went to them about her issues. As much as it pained her parents, they still wanted to have some sort of joyful day and celebration when it came to Hermione's birthday. And what a birthday it would be.
Hermione woke up on September 19, 1990, not knowing her parents had a massive birthday party planned out for her that afternoon. She was greeted by her parents with a kiss on the forehead, a tight and lasting hug, and a joyful "Happy Birthday, Hermione" from them. She smiled slightly, then grabbed her bag and walked out to catch her bus. Her father sighed. "Soon, Sam, soon," Helen assured him. He visually tried to relax. Hermione's day went by slowly, earning glances and teasing like always. She hoped that the day could go by quickly, as she wanted to spend the rest of her birthday by herself. In her own world, where she felt the most comfort. But she walked into her house at the end of school and was happily surprised by her parents.
They had spent the entire day decorating their house and making cookies and cake to celebrate her birthday. Her parents surprised her, and Hermione smiled before hugging her parents and muttering thank yous for several minutes. She ate chocolate cake, played with party streamers, enjoyed snickerdoodle cookies, and unwrapped presents, which were books on Shakespeare. Well, specifically the one Shakespeare novel that she loved. "The Winter's Tale," where she was named after the Queen, Hermione, who was accused of cheating on her husband and was thrown into jail as a result. The story mattered to her simply as she was named after it. Minutes after five that evening, there was a soft knock on the Granger's front door. Upon answering it, Helen saw an old woman simply holding a thick yellow envelope. "Excuse me," the woman started, "But I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, and I am here to give a Miss Hermione Granger her Hogwarts letter."
\-0-0-/
The large man, after re-adjusting the door, took a long look around the room. A skinny boy with glasses was hiding behind an indentation in the wall, a fat boy, around the same age, was currently standing up, slightly wetting himself at the sight of the big man. And the other beefy man in the room was shakily holding a rifle at him, with the man's wife clutching his shoulders. This man had literally ripped Uncle Vernon's gun out of his hand, twisted it into a shape of a pretzel, and handed it back to him. And he still didn't say anything. He finally turned to Harry, and the man finally spoke.
"Ello 'arry, long time no see!" The man smiled warmly at him who just stood there.
"I, um, I don't know who you are?" Harry tried not to sound rude.
"Oh, well it makes sense, yer' see, last time I saw you was when you was a baby, 'arry!"
"I'm sorry, I still don't remember. Were you a friend of my parents?" Harry asked kindly.
"Ah, yes. Lily an' James Potter would normally visit me when they was back at 'ogwarts, but I know you already know about that, eh?"
"Sorry, no," Harry said, not knowing what a Hogwarts was.
"No?" the man asked, before taking a breath and resuming. "My name is Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and grounds at 'ogwarts. Why don't yer know about 'ogwarts?"
Harry didn't know how to respond. "What?"
"Well, blimey 'arry, don't yer know where yer' parents learned it all?"
"Learned what, Hagrid?" Harry was trying to make sense of what he was hearing, but he was at a loss for words. He looked over at his relatives, and Uncle Vernon was furiously, unsuccessfully I might add, trying to un-pretzel his rifle. Aunt Petunia was still standing behind him, and Dudley was still wetting himself. Harry mentally rolled his eyes.
Hagrid leaned over to look Harry in the eyes. "Yer' a Wizard, 'arry! Jus' like yer' parents!" Hagrid was smiling.
"A what?" Harry asked, clearly not understanding what Hagrid was telling him.
Hagrid sighed. "I suppose this'll help yer' to understand." Hagrid reached into his jacket and produced a similar, thick yellow envelope, and handed it to Harry. It was addressed to "Mr. H. Potter, On the Floor, In the Hut on a Rock, On an island on the Sea." Harry looked at his relatives, particularly Uncle Vernon, and smirked as he finally got to open the letter that had been continually delivered to him over the past two weeks. He flipped the letter over, now able to see an identical red stamp keeping the letter closed. It had the word, "Hogwarts" stamped on the top followed by a shield split into four sections: A lion, a snake, an eagle, and a badger. He gingerly opened the letter up and savored finally being able to read what had been written for him. He was shocked at what he read, not because it wasn't what he was expecting, but because it confirmed that he was a Wizard, like his parents, as Hagrid had told him minutes earlier.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Harry looked at Hagrid questionably, before speaking again. "My parents went here?"
Hagrid nodded. "They did, and they would want yer to come!"
Harry nodded. "Can you tell them that I am going? I don't know how to tell them. Plus, it'll get me away from them," Harry waved his hand towards his relatives, "and I'll actually be able to do stuff, I hope."
Hagrid smiled and pulled out some sheepskin and an old bird's feather. A minute later, he pulled out an owl – yes, an owl – from his coat and sent it on its way with the note.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" Hagrid exclaimed as he pulled a cake from another of his many coat pockets. "Baked it meself, words and all, it ain't every day yer young boy turns eleven, eh?"
"Thank you," Harry replied, taking the cake, and opening the cover to read "Happy Birthday Harry!" He put the cake down next to him and then asked about his parents.
"Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia told me that my parents died in a car crash. Can you tell me how?"
At this, Hagrid's expression hardened and Uncle Vernon's face paled. "A CAR CRASH?" Hagrid bellowed. "A CAR CRASH KILLIN' LILY AN' JAMES POTTER? THIS IS FALSE! WHO TOLD YER' THAT? THAT AIN'T TRUE!" Hagrid looked over at Uncle Vernon and scowled. "YOU! HOW DARE YER' LIE TO 'ARRY 'ERE!"
At this point, Dudley had grabbed Harry's cake and was eating it, plainly. Hagrid, in a burst of anger, aimed his umbrella at Dudley and made him grow a pig's tail. This freaked Dudley out, and Aunt Petunia shrieked. Uncle Vernon however spoke.
"I have had to beat the freakishness you people bring! Don't instill it in him again!" Uncle Vernon cried out.
Hagrid, however, took none of it. "'arry is goin' to the greatest Wizardin' school in Britian, led by the greatest Wizard in the world, Albus Dumbledore!" Hagrid smiled admiringly mentioning Dumbledore.
"He will not be going there! I will not pay for some old fool to teach him silly little magic tricks!" Uncle Vernon yelled.
Hagrid snapped. "DON'T YER EVER INSULT ALBUS
DUMBLEDORE IN FRONT OF ME!" With a wave of his umbrella, Hagrid had now shrunken the clothes Dudley was wearing to the size of Harry, which was ridiculously small, considering the malnourishment over the years. Dudley screamed and Harry laughed. Seeing his relatives suffer for treating him badly all his life was paradise for him. To see Uncle Vernon cower away from Hagrid was pleasant enough.
"Now," Hagrid faced Harry again, "Do yer' wanna get goin? We gotta lot a places to be!"
"Sure, anywhere is better than here," he replied. Hagrid smiled at the boy, and they walked out. Harry was about to ask how he got there but saw a motorcycle with a side seat sitting on the rocks, lights blazing.
"Climb in 'ere," Hagrid said. Once both were seated, Hagrid pressed a button on the console and the bike literally began to fly. "One more thing, 'arry, best not to mention what 'appened back there, eh? Not really supposed to be doin' magic now-adays, eh?"
Harry nodded, still mesmerized at the flying motorcycle he was currently travelling in. The pair flew for over four hours before Hagrid carefully landed his bike after the sun had started to peek over the horizon. "We don't wanna have ta' deal with a muggle now, eh?" Hagrid had asked. Harry nodded as Hagrid continued to drive to London. He wasn't even interested to know what a muggle was, he was still wrapping his head around the flying bike he was just in. The pair drove for several more hours before London could be clearly seen from the rolling hills of the countryside. They finally stopped at a small café, just outside of London, and ate breakfast. Harry, still not believing he could eat whatever he wanted, ordered a lot, especially omelets and bacon. Hagrid simply smiled at the boy as he devoured the food in front of him.
After hopping in the tube, Harry read his supply list.
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. 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
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions
"Dragon Hide?" Harry voiced, "from a real dragon? They're real?"
"Ye, dragons are real, and seriously misunderstood creatures dragons are, yes."
Harry nodded. "Can we find this all in London?"
"If yer' know where ter' look, that is," Hagrid responded.
He walked Harry to an old building that was called the Leaky Cauldron. As soon as Harry stepped in, however, several, if not all the patrons were looking at him in awe. There was a combination of "You're Harry Potter!" "So nice to finally meet you!" "Thank you for saving us ten years ago!" and a heck of a lot of handshakes. Harry was heavily overwhelmed with the attention he was given. Hagrid happily helped him through the crowd of people, and thru the back door. They stood before a solid brick wall. Smiling, Hagrid took out him umbrella and tapped several spots on the wall, causing a handful of the brocks to move out of the way. Awestruck, Harry watched an arch materialize from bricks moving out of the way.
"Welcome Harry, to Diagon Alley!"
\-0-0-/
Helen, and by extension Hermione, was confused. Hogwarts? A letter? Helen quickly allowed the woman inside, where she promptly handed Hermione the letter addressed to her. "Miss. H. Granger, the Living Room, 18 Hempstead Avenue, Crawley." By this point Samuel Granger stepped in.
"No offense, ma'am, but who are you?" He asked.
The woman looked at him and smiled. "I apologize. Introductions are in order. My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"Pardon me, but what is Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, somewhat annoyed.
"Hogwarts is a magical school where witches and wizards go to learn to control their magic." McGonagall answered.
"And why am I going?" Hermione pressed.
McGonagall smiled. "About five years ago, the Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admittance registered that you had performed your first bout of Accidental Magic. Once a witch or wizard performs their first act of accidental magic, they are automatically enrolled into Hogwarts."
"Accidental Magic?" Helen asked.
"At a young age, witches and wizards like yourself," she gestured to Hermione, "will tend to lose concentration. At this point, there is a chance that your magical core can take over for a second to fulfil a desire that you wanted to happen. Have you ever been angry and something abnormal or extraordinary happened?"
Hermione thought. Other than when her taunters had been given boils over their bodies several years prior, she couldn't recall... Oh wait! Five years ago…
"Well, I once was really angry at this boy for teasing me at school, and the next thing I know, all the lights go out and most of the lightbulbs shattered in the process. I concluded that my scream was piercing enough to do that damage, but now, now I'm not sure."
Helen and Samuel nodded at that. That was when they had to move out of Paris after Hermione's expulsion.
McGonagall gave it thought. "Yes, that would count as a case of Accidental Magic. As you will learn at Hogwarts, Magic is all about intent. When you can control your core, it will be about your intent when casting spells, charms, curses, and hexes."
Hermione didn't know what to say to that, so she directed her attention to her Hogwarts letter. She opened it up and pulled out two pieces of old paper. The first was her acceptance letter, the second her supplies list. She very nearly hyperventilated when she saw that the term had started nearly three weeks earlier. Fortunately, it referred to the next school year, 1991-1992. She looked at McGonagall before asking ten questions in the span of ten seconds.
"How do I get to Hogwarts? What is all this stuff that I need? Where can I get this stuff? How do I pay for it? Do witches and wizards use pounds? How much will it cost to go there? How long will I be there? Will I have fun? Will there be things to do? Is there a library?"
McGonagall chuckled. "I most certainly hope that you will have fun at Hogwarts! Hogwarts has the largest library in the Wizarding World. You will be at Hogwarts for ten months, and there will be plenty to do. Students get their supplies in Diagon Alley, in London, and each muggle-born witch or wizard such as yourself has a one-thousand Galleon balance to spend during their time at Hogwarts.
Now, as I mentioned, we have our own currency. One Galleon is the equivalency of eight pounds. Now, the 'price' you ask about has already been paid. To be accepted into Hogwarts, you need to be a witch or wizard. Since you are a witch, you are allowed to go. On September first of next year, you will head to Kings Cross Station, to board a train that will take you to Hogwarts. I do not have it with me right now, but you will be given a ticket that only you and other witches and wizards can see. I will visit you in about seven months to help you prepare for Hogwarts should you need to gather your supplies still."
Hermione was smiling happily at McGonagall. "How do I get to Diagon Alley?"
McGonagall then explained the Leaky Cauldron and how to access the Alley. Even though it took a bit, especially with Helen and Samuel interrupting every few minutes, they finally understood where Diagon Alley was, how to access it, and how to get the thousand pounds from her vault. McGonagall presented a small key to the Grangers, stating that it was the only way that she could get the money. Helen took it and popped it into a small compartment in her purse.
The Grangers then spent the next several hours pinning McGonagall with questions on the Wizarding World, its rules, its methods, policies, anything that they thought would be useful for them and Hermione when she went there. Hermione did ask if there were anyone from Crawley Primary that was also a witch or wizard, but McGonagall shook her head and stated that she was the only one. Hermione smiled at this. Before McGonagall left, she briefly yet extensively explained to the Grangers the Statute of Secrecy. TL: DR: If you don't want to lose the school, don't tell! Nearing eleven that night, McGonagall smiled at the Grangers and walked out, telling Hermione one more thing. "We will meet again in seven months, remember what I said. I hope to see you getting ready, Hermione." With a soft whistle of wind, McGonagall disappeared right outside their house.
Samuel promised his daughter that they would visit Diagon Alley over the holidays, as a drive to London would take 2 hours at a minimum. She happily accepted and as she felt tired, she went to sleep. Now, with this new information about Hogwarts, for Hermione, school went by quicker, and she felt happier. Unfortunately, this didn't mean that her teasing was lessened by any means. The fact that instead of a pensive look on her face, which she had worn for several years at school, changed to a wide smile in a day confused many students. Hermione was happy to finally get the chance to escape from the taunting prison she knew as Crawley Primary.
Soon enough, Christmas arrived, and as promised, Samuel and Helen drove their daughter to London, where Diagon Alley was located. After finding the Leaky Cauldron, and my it was difficult, they were again told how to get past the wall to enter Diagon. The Grangers listened happily, and soon enough; they too were awestruck at the magic that Diagon Alley held.
\-0-0-/
Harry was shocked. He had never seen so many wizards or witches ever! And he was going to learn to be one! Here he was, in perhaps the most magical street ever, preparing for a magical school where he could feel more connected to his parents! Learning the truth about his parents really set him on edge, and now he held no respect for any of his relatives. They lied to him, and they treated him horribly and it was his parents' fault. He didn't see how his parents could be faulted over something they had no control over. It was insulting to Harry, and he would not stand it anymore. Long enough has his true identity been hidden. Long enough that he has been abused simply for losing his parents.
Hagrid could see the visible conflict on young Harry's face, so he took it upon himself to immersify Harry into the beauty Diagon had to offer. Potion ingredients, magical books, broomsticks, owls, cats, toads, Gringotts, Ollivander's. Soon Harry forgot about the queasy feeling he had about his relatives, and he was just as awestruck as Hagrid had hoped to bring him to. The first stop was Gringotts' Wizarding Bank, and according to Hagrid was the second-best safest place in Great Britain, behind Hogwarts.
The duo stepped inside, and Harry found himself staring at the many small things running around and counting coins and whatnot. Hagrid told him that they were Goblins, and they were not to be mistreated. Harry nodded at this, and the pair walked up to the forewardmost teller desk. "Mr. Harry Potter wishes to access his vault." Hagrid spoke clearly to the goblin. Said goblin looked up and responded. "Does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?" Hagrid nodded and fumbled around his coat until he pulled out a small brass key. The goblin took it and nodded. "One other thing, Griphook," Hagrid started, pulling out a small envelope, "It is from Professor Dumbledore, regarding you-know-what to you-know-which." Griphook nodded solemnly. "Follow me," he stated. At that point, Harry was in for a show. The minecart ride to his vault felt like a roller coaster. Up, down, left, right, it sped along with no intention of stopping. Finally, it stopped at Vault 687.
When Harry saw how much money he had, he was shocked. He was even more shocked when Griphook told him the conversions. "One Galleon, the gold coins, is the equivalent of eight pounds. Silver Sickles, Twenty-nine to a Galleon, and Bronze Kunts, Seventeen to a Sickle." Harry was speechless. All he knew that his parents had died and left him nothing. Yet another reason to hate the Dursleys. Harry pulled one hundred Galleons from his vault, not knowing how much he would need for shopping. A short trip later, Hagrid dealt with Griphook about the issue with Dumbledore and collected a small object from Vault 713. This intrigued Harry but kept silent about it after Hagrid had asked him to not make it so important.
The supply buying in Diagon was pretty straightforeward for young Harry. He went with Hagrid to all types of stores, and even got extra tomes about Hogwarts and several aspects of the magical past. As a pet, Harry chose a beautiful white owl. And right after, he went to Olivander's Wand shop. After several attempts, he was given a wand to try. This wand was different though. It glowed and warmed up in his hand. Olivander seemed worried at this, and when Harry questioned why, all Ollivander replied with was:
"I remember every singular wand that I have ever sold, young Mr. Potter. It just so happens that the phoenix tail feather core in this wand has a twin. And it is curious that its twin would reside in the wand of the wizard who killed you parents and gave you your scar." Olivander replied grimly. Harry tried pressing who killed his parents, but Ollivander shooed him off the subject. Harry tentatively paid the ten galleons for the wand and walked out.
Later, Harry could be seen visibly sulking by Hagrid. The light and joy in his eyes from his adventure in Diagon Alley had long vanished, replaced by a grim and dark look in his eyes. Finally, Harry spoke. "Who killed my parents, Hagrid?" Hagrid was taken back. But he shook it off and answered.
"There is something that you need to know, Harry. Not all magical folk are good. Some turn bad." Hagrid sighed heavily. "The darkest Wizard disappeared ten years ago, and it was you who stopped him. Many think he is dead, though I think otherwise. I think he is simply a shadow, waiting to find strength to come back. Something stopped him that night, and you ended with that scar. You are famous because grown and experience witches and wizards were able to stop him. Yet you, as a mere one-year-old, managed to stop him."
"But who was he?" Harry pressed, just wanting an answer.
Hagrid breathed heavily. "His name was Voldemort."
Harry shuddered. He now knew of his parent's killers, and now he wanted revenge. It was his fault that his parents died. It was his fault that he has to live with the Dursleys. It was his fault he hasn't had a happy life so far. His hatred for Voldemort was growing stronger and stronger, nearly matching his hatred for the Dursleys. Hagrid asked to take him to a room in the Leaky Cauldron to relax and go through his supplies. Harry nodded and allowed himself to be moved.
While relaxing in the Leaky Cauldron, Harry learned about accidental magic (his answer to how he healed so quickly) and he learned of famous witches and wizards, as well as Hogwarts. He named his owl Hedwig, a name he found while skimming Hogwarts: A History. Harry was so engrossed that he didn't see Hagrid packing up his stuff, ready to take him back to the Dursleys. Harry, despite his protests, agreed. They set off the morning after and arrived late afternoon. Fortunately, the Dursleys had went back to Privet Drive and the owls and letters there were gone. Harry decided, that while he couldn't get his revenge on his relatives, he could try to bluff them with his wand. The more he thought about it, the more it held merit. And since they didn't know about the Statute of Secrecy, as clearly mentioned several times in Hogwarts: A History, he could threaten them with magic if they treated him poorly. And boy was he going to get his revenge worth that month.
The last thing he received from Hagrid before his departure was a thick ticket. His train ticket to Hogwarts. After wishing Harry goodbye, and glaring at the Dursleys, Hagrid set off. "Don't mess with me, or else." Harry stonily threatened his relatives with his wand. On any other occasion, seeing Uncle Vernon wither in fear would have been enjoyable. He took all his school supplies for Hogwarts, went up to his new bedroom, slammed the door shut, and began planning for a life without the Dursleys. And boy, he would enjoy it. One step at a time.
\-0-0-/
Hermione's first glance of Diagon Alley was nothing short of incredible. Here she was in one of the most magical places ever, and all she could say was "Wow!" As per Professor McGonagall's instructions, the family headed to Gringotts' Bank to collect some money for Hermione's supplies. They headed to a teller, Hermione's reaction to the Goblins were comparing them to dwarfs. Hermione got lucky. She was dealing with a goblin with patience.
"Hello Sir?" Hermione asked.
"Key, please?" The Goblin stated.
Hermione turned to her mother, who promptly fished the key out of her purse. She then politely passed it to the Goblin.
"Name, Miss?" he asked, pointing to Hermione.
"Hermione Granger, Sir."
"Granger... Granger... Muggleborn?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Follow me." The goblin hopped off his teller and led the Grangers to a small office down a long hallway. He then presented a piece of parchment and a small pin prick disc.
"Put your finger on this disc, do not worry, you will be healed instantly."
"Uhh, why sir?" Hermione asked, a tad scared.
"To prove you are Hermione Granger, Miss. Standard protocol for any Muggleborn witch or wizard who requests funds from Gringotts."
Hermione nodded and allowed her finger to be pricked, and a singular drop of blood dropped onto the parchment, making it flash twice.
"Thank you, Miss. Granger. We can now discuss your funds."
The Goblin had the family sit and introduced them to himself as ClipSteak. He was her account manager, and the only other person who had access to her vault was Minerva McGonagall, her legal Magical Guardian in the Wizarding World. Both Granger adults nodded, knowing that the woman had introduced Hermione into the Wizarding World. After going over her account balance, G1,000, Hermione withdrew one hundred and fifty Galleons for her shopping. ClipSteak nodded and provided her with the funds in a pouch. Money and information in hand, the Granger trio exited Gringotts to shop for Hermione's school year.
Hermione was captivated by Diagon Alley. She pulled her parents into almost every shop, and along the way bought way too many books. Apart from all her school supplies, Hermione had bought four books on famous wizards, mainly a Harry Potter, a book on Lord Voldemort and his life, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the greatest Sorcerer in Great Britain, and of course, Hogwarts: A History. She bought extra books on spells, charms, potions, animals, practically everything in the magical world interested the young girl. The family stepped out of Diagon Alley after Hermione had spent nearly thirty Galleons on several volumes of books and information. Samuel took the family out for pizza, and Hermione enjoyed London in winter. She was happy that she had a reason to leave the horrid of Primary School behind and start anew in the Magical World.
After lunch, and a quick stop to their car to relieve their daughter of the twenty or so books that she had already bought, the Grangers entered Diagon Alley to buy dress robes and practically everything else on her list, including too much parchment, quills, ink, and caps. She bought a large six-compartment Hogwarts trunk that she would fill to the brim with all her supplies. Finishing her shopping, the Grangers went to Ollivander's to get Hermione her magical wand.
Boy, it was funny watching Hermione try wand after wand. There were simply too many wands that matched Hermione's size, and after fifteen minutes and twenty-eight wands tried, Hermione finally got the wand that would call her theirs. It felt warm, and she glowed, and her body washed into her new wand. She was positively gleaming at her new wand. And, if that wasn't enough, her parents had also bought her a pet kneazle as her pet for Hogwarts. Hermione was practically jumping with excitement.
For Sam and Helen, it had been years since they had seen their daughter this genuinely happy. The last time, for them, must have been when she turned five and aced a test in her early years of Primary. They made a silent joint agreement: If it made Hermione happy, it made them happy too. Just a small way her parents hoped to stay in their daughter's life.
Hermione had piled all her stuff into the small van that Helen owned, and the trio began the long drive back to Crawley. It took under two hours, but simultaneously it was also nearing dinner time. The Grangers got home, and Hermione's cat, which she called Crookshanks, immediately took a liking to the Granger's Christmas tree. For Hermione, this certainly was the happiest Christmas she could've asked for. Now she only had to last another six months of Primary and two months of Summer, and she would be off to Hogwarts!
As Professor McGonagall promised, she was back at the Granger's residence seven months later. She presented Hermione with her Hogwarts ticket and explicitly explained how to get on the platform. Which wall, which side, how fast, when to do it, all that fun stuff. Hermione's head was moving so fast, it looked like she could become a bobblehead. Since she had so much focus on Hogwarts, she absolutely blew away all her exams and studies. She completely ignored the taunts about being the "Freaky Bookworm" and soon prided herself on being a bookworm as she would soon spend her entire summer reading about the Magical World. Soon, she would be off to a world where she could start anew. Soon, she would join other witches and wizards her age and embark on a lifetime journey.
\-0-0-/
September 1, 1991
Kings Cross Station, London, England
Harry felt like a fool. He was at Kings Cross, and he was at Platforms Nine and Ten, yet he didn't know where his platform was. He was in the middle of Kings Cross, lugging around a heavy trunk and an irate Hedwig, when he saw a younger girl wandering the station, with a similar yet larger trunk and a small orange cat entangled in her arms. She was surrounded by her parents, and by what she was doing too she was also looking for the platform. He walked up to her, nervously, and spoke.
"Do you know where the train that leaves at eleven is?"
The young girl blinked twice at him, before looking around and whispering to him.
"Eleven O clock, between these platforms?"
Harry nodded, hoping she meant Platform 9 3/4. She did because she suddenly yelped at him to follow her. So, he did. And he was led to the correct spot that Hermione had been told about, and with a little guidance, he followed her into the wall and onto the platform. After thanking the girl, Harry went to hop on the train. He claimed a compartment in the middle of the last carriage, and minutes later, a small plump boy holding onto a toad in one hand and his trunk in the other popped his head inside.
"Sorry, do you mind? No one else will let me sit with them."
"Oh, not at all, here," Harry responded, smiling softly.
The other boy moved in the compartment ad sat down, looking at Harry, smiling. The train lurched foreward before huffing and puffing out of the station.
"I'm Neville Longbottom, buy my gran thinks that I'm a Squib." Neville introduced himself.
"Oh, I'm Harry Potter. What's a Squib?"
Neville's eyes widened, before closing and sighing. "I'm sorry."
Harry looked confused. "Why?"
"You-Know-Who killed your parents." he responded.
"You mean Voldemort?" Harry asked, inflicting a shiver from Neville, who merely nodded. "Sorry."
"No, no, don't worry. It's just that... It's just that..." Neville now spoke in a whisper. "He sent his top Death Eater to my parents for information about me, but they wouldn't tell them where I was. They're sick… they've been sick since the day after you killed him..."
Harry felt horrible for the boy. "I'm sorry, Neville. If there's anything I can do, just tell me."
"No, it's alright. To be honest with you I kind of just want a friend."
Harry was shocked. "You want me to be your friend?"
Neville looked a bit scared at this, before replying. "Yea, I didn't have many friends growing up, and the only friend I really have isn't coming to Hogwarts until next year."
Harry wanted to immediately accept this boy's friendship. "Uh, Neville, uh, you aren't going to tease me or anything, right?"
Neville looked shocked. "Tease you? No! Why would I do that?"
Harry looked down. "It's just that the only other time someone wanted to be my friend they teased me later that day. I just don't want that kind of rejection again. I came to Hogwarts to get away from my relatives, and I just want to be happy here."
Neville smiled. "Well, friend, you can tell me about your relatives when you want, because I want to be your friend. Really!"
Harry looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Neville."
"Always, Harry. Always."
The two started talking about their lives, Harry being very protective of himself while he let Neville explain his life and his uncle trying to get him to do magic. It only took Harry about two hours to begin laughing along with Neville at his stories. It only took an hour for things to go bad.
"Well, Well, Well, it is true, Harry Potter is going to Hogwarts!"
Harry looked at the door to see a blonde boy standing in the doorway with a fat kid with black hair and a taller boy, also with black hair in the doorway.
"Why are you, sorry?" Harry asked.
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. This is Crabbe and Goyle," he mentioned to his cronies behind him. "You best start off at Hogwarts associating with the right sort. Longbottom here is a Squib and can't do any magic. Unlike him, I am an heir to a strong house. Associate yourself with the right sort, Potter. Join me." Draco offered his hand.
Harry looked at Neville, who was pleading him not to do it. Harry trusted his new friend and flat out rejected Malfoy's hand.
"I'd rather spend time with those who I call friends, thank you very much." Harry turned back to Neville while Draco sneered at him. "You'll regret this, Potter!" He stormed off, slamming the door behind him.
"Thanks, Harry." Neville said, relieved.
"He was a jerk from the start. I don't need friends as jerks." Harry replied strongly. Neville smiled. He then turned to hold his toad and he noticed it was gone. "Oh no! My toad is gone!" Neville exclaimed.
"I'll help you find him, Neville."
"Thanks, Harry."
Off they went, they started searching compartment after compartment, not finding a toad. When they were about mid-train, Harry met again with the girl who helped him find the platform. She introduced herself as Hermione Granger, and she offered to help the boys find Neville's toad. They spent a while after that, finishing their sweep of the train, only to find the toad in the very front of the first carriage. After they thanked Hermione, Neville offered for they to stay with her as she was alone. She hesitantly accepted.
When Harry was introduced to Hermione, her first impression of him was guarded. She had read that he was an arrogant prick, being spoiled in a castle and fed anything he asked for. But this wasn't the same boy. Despite this, she still held her guard, and the two became acquaintances. Neville remained Harry's only friend. Later, as they approached Hogsmeade Station, the boys left Hermione's compartment to their own so they could change into their robes. And once they got off the train, all the first years were moved into boats, and Hogwarts Castle came into view.
\-0-0-/
It was Magical. It was everything that they imagined. Hogwarts Castle really was a work of art. The first years were all mesmerized by the beauty Hogwarts Castle gave, and it really was a sight you could look at for hours and not be bored of it. The kids were escorted from the boats to two massive doors, where a woman who Hermione recognized as Professor McGonagall stood.
"In these doors, you will be sorted into your Houses. Your Houses are like your family. Good behavior will earn you points, rule breaking will lose you points. The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now, follow me." The kids followed McGonagall inside the massive Hall, where in the center of it all, stood a stool and an old hat.
"When I call your name, come foreward, put this hat on, and you will be sorted. Hannah Abbot!"
A blonde girl with freckles nervously walked up and sat down. After about thirty seconds, the hat yelled "HUFFLEPUFF!"
And the Sorting started. Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor, Neville followed, while Draco Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin, and Theodore Nott followed. Then, it was Harry's turn.
He sat on the stool, and the hat voiced to him that it was exceedingly difficult to place him. He was about to sort Harry into Slytherin when Harry begged the hat to not let him join Draco's house. The hat accepted, and Harry was sorted into Gryffindor. The feast began soon after, and that night, the House Prefects led the students to their houses. Harry, like all the other first years, were astonished at what their Common Room looked like. He fell asleep that night happy. A new friend and an adventure awaited him. Across the hall, Hermione was excited that her adventure was starting new, and she would be able to be accepted and happy as she was. She fell asleep that night happy.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading the first installment of A Second Life! I am so excited to be able to bring this to you, and I hope that you will enjoy this story as much as I will have writing it. Feedback will be appreciated, and I'm always open to suggestions on how I can make the story better overall. Thank you for reading and enjoy your day!
BananaCarrot-Five
