Phill: You know, what you said was right. I hadn't realized that the Central Intelligence Agency didn't exist in the UK. But seeing that I had already included it in, well... let's just say that a British CIA does exist, and that they do sign up agents by just looking at them. Thanks for the note though. I'll do some research on the UK and hopefully make this story more geographically accurate.
Takeda Lee: Thanks for the review! It means a lot to me. Keep reviewing!
Chapter 8: Memories Part IV: Life at the Dursleys
It had been ten years since baby Harry's parents were taken away from him by Avada Kedavra, ten years since he had miraculously brought around the downfall of the Dark Lord Voldemort. During those ten years, many things had changed, not all of them pleasant. Cornelius Fudge was selected to be the new Minister of Magic, over Barty Crouch. He was an incompetent fool and owled Headmaster Albus Dumbledore every day for tips on how to look good. Sirius Black was captured and sentenced to life inprisonment in the cold, murky, and dark innards of the wizarding fortress, Azkaban, which was guarded by Dementors, cold, dark creatures who are natural allies to the Dark Lord. Although Sirius was innocent, he was made to look guilty by Wormtail, the actual traitor. Sirius had gone after him and cornered him on a Muggle street. Seeing no escape, Wormtail did a horrible deed indeed. He cut off his finger and blew up a block of street with his wand hidden behind his back. He promptly turned into a rat, his unregistered animagus form, and fled to the sewers. The authorities blamed Sirius and sentenced him to Azkaban without a trial.
Professor Binns still taught History of Magic in his usual boring way, which was one of the few things that didn't change. Harry Potter now lived with his aunt and uncle, who are 'the worst sort of Muggles', as Professor McGonagal described them. He was ten and skinny and fast for his age. Maybe it had to do with trying to escape his fat cousin Dudley while he tried to clobber him. His body seemed to have adapted to life at the Durleys. The Dursleys were Harry's only living relatives. They were Muggles who thought that everything having to do with magic was nonsense and any wizard or witch was a freak. You see, Harry's Aunt Petunia's sister was Lily Evans. The Dursley 'normal' family consisted of Dudley Dursley, Petunia Dursley, and Vernon Dursley.
On one fine summer day, Harry woke to the sound of his aunt knocking on the door of his cupboard. "Get up," she screeched loudly. "Go cook breakfast before we beat you!"
Harry quickly got up groggily and got dressed. He snatched his glasses and put them on. Harry opened the door to his cupboard and made his way into the kitchen. After cooking breakfast, Uncle Vernon heard the doorbell ring. Instinctively, he said, "Dudley, go get the mail."
It seemed that Dudley didn't want to get the mail, which Harry considered normal. "Make Harry get it," Dudley whined.
"Harry," Uncle Vernon said behind the morning paper. "Go get the mail."
"Make Dudley get it," Harry replied, to which he got a response of, "Hit him with your Smelting Stick, Dudley." Harry quickly dodged the Smelting Stick and went to get the mail. He was immensely surprised to find a letter addressed to him. Rarely anyone knew him at all and everyone except the Dursleys who did know him believed that he was insane and went to a criminal school.
Harry brought the mail into the dining room to hand to his Uncle Vernon, and sat down on another seat of the kitchen table and began to open his letter, which was addressed in green ink to his cupboard under the stairs. Harry wondered how the could have known. This turned out to be a mistake, for all would have been fine if Dudley hadn't burst out, "Dad! Harry's got a letter!" Uncle Vernon jumped up, purple faced, and snatched the letter out of Harry's hands before he had a chance to react. Uncle Vernon tore the envelope from the letter and scanned it quickly. His face instantly turned red to purple, to blue, to a pale white, and finally settled on an ashen color close to pale.
"Pe-Pe-Petu-Petunia," he stuttered panicked. Harry was surprised to see his uncle in a state like this. He was waving the letter as if it was some sort of bomb.
"I want to see my letter!" Harry insisted, but was interrupted by Uncle Vernon.
"You will not see this letter, boy!" Uncle Vernon yelled back at him, his face turning red. "Petunia! Come here immediately." Aunt Petunia almost ran from the kitchen.
"What is it, dear?" she called breathlessly, for even running ten feet was tire her out immensely. She also scanned the mysterious letter and her face ran through the same sequence of colors that Uncle Vernon's had. "He will not be going!" she insisted.
"Go where?" Harry asked. "I want to see my letter!"
"No! Give it to me!" Dudley's big mouth burst out.
Uncle Vernon took charge. Neither of you will see the letter.
"But I'm your little Duddykins," Dudley insisted, pouting. He reached for the letter fully expecting his daddy to hand it over, but he was mistaken. Uncle Vernon reached for both Harry and Dudley and carried them by their neck, almost choking both Dudley and Harry in the process, and practically threw them into the hall. Harry heard the dining room door slam behind him, as he lay by Dudley on the floor. Both of them were trying to regain their breath. Soon enough, though, their breath came back to them.
Dudley and Harry had a silent fight on who would get the keyhole, and who would get the crack underneath the door. Dudley won, as usual, by threatening Harry with his fist, so Harry bent down, his glasses nearly falling off his face, and tried to listen rather than look. He heard muffled words.
"We vowed to beat that abnormality out of him when we took him in," Vernon was saying to Petunia. Then after a few more moments of talking, Uncle Vernon opened the door. "We've decided to give you your letter he said," similing sinisterly.
Harry was surprised. "Thanks," he said, but just as the words left his mouth, Uncle Vernon had already torn the letter up into pieces so small, that they would probably be the size of dust. He handed the ripped up letter to Harry.
"Here you go, boy!" he barked. "Extra food for you. Be thankful."
Dudley laughed outright and Harry felt tears brimming the corner of his eyes. But he had vowed never to cry in front of the Dursleys, so he forced them back.
Harry silently and quickly left the two standing there laughing and ran upstairs to his room. He had considered running away before, but that wouldn't be safe, and where would he get any money? He wasn't old enough to get a job. Harry fell onto his bed and cried. This was the only place he would let his tears and true emotions out: his cupboard.
All through, the week, more and more letters came for Harry. They came crumpled up in eggs, they came through the mail, they came through the cracks in the windows, they came through the chimney; all sorts of places you would never imagine. There were so many that the house would have been filled to the brim if the letters were not all destroyed in the fireplace. "What a waste," Harry thought sadly. Even though there were so many letters, Harry still hadn't managed to get his hands on even one of them. He felt ashamed of himself. Finally, one day, Uncle Vernon had had enough. "All right," he barked. "We're moving."
They took only the necesseties. First, they moved into a hotel after driving for hours, but when about one hundred letters came for Harry, Uncle Vernon made them camp in a run down house in the sea. It was Harry's birthday. Harry felt that he would never get the letters here. There was no way anyone would find them. Then, suddenly, just when it reached midnight, a booming sound came from the door. It was someone knocking. Uncle Vernon ran from the other room holding a rifle and yelled, "Don't enter. I'm armed." The mysterious stranger seemed to pay no heed to the warning. With a final crash, the door was swept off its hinges as the man knocked it over. The person at the doorway was enormous. He was at least twice the height and width of Uncle Vernon.
"Hi ya 'Arry," the figures loud booming voice carried into the house above the roar of the storm outside. "Last time I've seen you was when you was only a little baby. How've you bin doin? I'm Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of the grounds at Hogwarts, but of course you know all of that." Hagrid walked over to Vernon and tore the gun from him. He bent the end into a knot. Uncle Vernon positively trembled.
Harry explained that he didn't know what was going on at all, and Hagrid was both surprised and angry. Hagrid explained to Harry that he was a wizard and finally gave Harry his letter. After a fight with Vernon, in which Hagrid was forced to turn Dudley into a whole pig, which was not much of a difference from the real thing, with his umbrella, Hagrid took Harry off in a boat that he piloted by magic.
Harry was so excited. They were finally going to Hogwarts. Going to his parents, and his, world, the world of true magic. He didn't know that this journey would lead to dangerous and happy times ahead. He didn't know what was in store for him.
Hi again folks! This chapter was a little rushed at the end, I'll admit that. But I really wanted to get it out. Please R&R!