"Welcome to your new home, little Harry. I'm not a witch, and thus I can't raise you as your mother and father would have, but I promise to do my best for you."
The car stopped in front of the far estate, and Azalea stepped out with her grandson, carrying Harry over the threshold into the house where he would begin his new life.
Chapter One: Ten Years Hence – To Diagon Alley
Disclaimer: If you've seen it before, it belongs to J.K. Rowling. Otherwise, it's mine. Naturally, I'm making no money off this. Am I the only one that finds these things to be extremely repetitive and pointless?
Nearly ten full years after that fateful late autumn day, a young boy emerged from underneath the sheets of his
king-sized bed. Dressed in a pair of green silk pajamas with golden leaf print and a matching nightshirt, he cantered gracefully over to the large vanity mirror situated against the far wall of his expansive bedroom and took in his appearance. He was a fair bit taller than most boys were at his age, standing at well over five feet. His skin sported a creamy and slightly pale complexion, and was every bit as soft as the silk garments that he wore.
The child's face was likewise fair and smooth, completely devoid of any traditional masculine features. His cherry lips and striking emerald eyes stood out sharply against the backdrop of his face. Perhaps his most noticeable feature was his hair. Long and silky, it was jet-black and hung to about the middle of his back. Aside from a slight fringe plastered against his forehead, his hair was completely straight. The boy had always felt that it gave him a certain aristocratic look and absolutely refused any attempts to make him have it trimmed. He raised a hand, perfectly manicured and unsullied by physical toil, to said fringe, brushing aside the hair and fingering the spot where that horrid scar had once been located all those years ago.
For indeed, this child was none other than Harry Potter, the young hero of the entire magical world, though he preferred not to acknowledge the fact. During his earliest childhood, his forehead had borne a rather unnatural
mark, an emerald green scar shaped like a lightning bolt. Harry's grandmother had told him one day of its origin and of the evil wizard that had claimed the lives of his mother and father. Naive and impressionable as he was, Harry had never even thought to question the existence of the "magic" of which the old lady had spoken. He couldn't even fathom the concept of his beloved grandmother ever being wrong or telling him a lie, and so he had simply believed.
She had also told him that his scar would make him into a false icon, and would be nothing but a curse to him. He had not known what she had meant, but had still perked up immediately when she had told him that she wanted to have it surgically removed. Even as a small child, Harry Potter had always been very conscious of his appearance, almost to the extent of an obsession, and viewed that lightning bolt scar as the only blemish upon his otherwise perfect features. He had therefore wholeheartedly agreed with his grandmother's proposal and had enthusiastically gone along with the procedure. He was snapped out of these memories by the sound of his door opening.
"Oh, look! Our phoenix has risen early today!"
Harry turned in the direction of the voice with a smile. The person standing in his doorway was Kim, a pretty girl of mixed Korean descent. She was roughly fifteen years of age, and was the unofficial head of Harry's small troupe of personal handmaids that largely made up his daily company. Her father, a Korean immigrant, had been working in Azalea's service as a gardener for longer than Harry could remember. Kim's mother wasa British woman whoh ad left her father shortly after giving birth to her, leaving him to raise the girl alone. They both eventually took up residence in the largely empty estate, and the young daughter began doing household chores where she could as soon as she was able so that she might help her father in earning his keep.
When Harry was old enough to walk around and talk, he had taken an instant liking to her. Even at that young age he was drawn to beauty like a moth to a flame. He had always preferred the company of girls and tended to follow Kim around while she did her work and talk to her. For her part, she had taken his attention in good humor and was unconditionally kind and sweet to the younger boy. Thisdid not go unnoticed by Azalea, who assigned her to be his personal attendant. The old lady was ecstatic to see him find somebody close to his own age to spend his time with, since he had steadily rejected most of the playmates that she had tried to arrange for him previously.
As Azalea's increasing age and deteriorating health forced her to delegate more of the household responsibilities to the staff, Kim ended up being the one that took care of Harry most of the time. Even though she was still largely a child herself, she did her job responsibly and young Harry tended to look to her as a big sister rather than a maid. She accompanied him everywhere, and they adored one another. When he was smaller, she even slept in his bed with him and comforted him during his frequent nightmares. Kim would still stay with him if he asked her to. Though other girls would eventually be added to his small entourage, Kim was always the first and favorite.
"Good morning, Kim!"
"You're looking handsome as always, Harry."
"You flatter me too much. I'm just out of bed!"
The sound of their voices brought the rest of his handmaids into the room. There were five in total, Kim included, all somewhat older than Harry but still in their teenage years. Melody and Sophia were, like Kim, both daughters of other servants at Azalea's estate. Christine was originally hired as summer help, and had become the object of the young Harry's attention during her stay. She was subsequently brought in permanently at his request. The last and oldest of his companions was Alyssa, an extremely attractive young woman of seventeen who had just come in recently, and under rather odd circumstances.
He had noticed her on the way home from one of his rare excursions from the confines of the estate. Azalea had taken him to a dinner party being held by one of her contemporaries in a neighboring town, an affair that he had found completely stifling. Alyssa had been standing on a busy street corner in the middle of the town dressed in rather provocative attire, and looked utterly miserable. Harry seemed to be able to tell somehow that she had nowhere to stay, and had pleaded with his grandmother to stop the car and pick her up. She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and he couldn't fathom the thought of such beauty wasting away on the streets and becoming dirtied through prostitution. Won over by her grandson's altruistic intentions, Azalea took the girl in despite her own misgivings. From that day, Alyssa viewed Harry as her savior and was more fiercely devoted to him than any of his other maids. Though still getting acclimated to her duties, she was a more than willing study and would do literally anything for Harry.
These pretty girls formed Harry's retinue of servants, though he would far sooner die than regard them as such. To him, they were all beloved companions and valued friends. They took care of him out of affection and tenderness rather than due to any feeling of obligation. The girls ate with him at his table and each had her very own room in his wing of the compound. Azalea had given her grandson the entire area in which to house his entourage or to use for whatever purposes he saw fit. In many respects, his girls were treated better than some members of the family were. After the usual round of morning greetings, Kim spoke with a mock admonishing tone.
"Come now. We've got to get you cleaned up and dressed quickly. The old lady's expecting you down in the parlor."
Harry just hummed in acquiescence in his soft dulcet voice and followed Kim into his bathroom. He loved and trusted all of his maids, but she was the only one he would openly allow to take care of his usual morning toilet. He looked about the brightly decorated restroom distractedly as she drew a hot scented bath. Even the commode was plated in silver. He only barely noticed when his oldest and dearest companion began divesting him of his nighttime apparel. Harry instinctually lifted his legs, one and then the other, to allow her to remove his silk pajama bottoms. This had been his morning routine for as long as he could remember. In his eleven years of life, Harry had not once ever even bathed or dressed himself. His girls did quite literally everything for him, and always with smiles on their pretty faces.
Kim took the naked boy gently by the hand and led him to the bath. The steaming water was a soft pink, its clear color dyed by the crimson rose petals that floated daintily on the surface. Harry caught a glimpse of his reflection. His lithe body completely lacked any sort of indicator of either muscle or fat. He had always eaten well, but also practiced a rather sedentary indoor lifestyle. Most of his days were frittered away in his quarters with his maids, reading the classics and his few preferred spell texts or playing cards or board games with the girls. One fact that he took a small amount of superior pride in was that he never watched television or played video games. He viewed such activities as disgustingly common, fit only for sloth ignoramuses such as his cousin Dudley. He allowed himself to think such thoughts as Kim's warm and soft hands rubbed the scented water and flower petals into his skin and cleaned his body. Remembering something from past years, he grabbed her hand as it trailed across his chest and ventured a rather personal question.
"Kim, why don't we ever bathe together anymore like we used to?"
Harry glanced up to see to older girl blushing slightly, obviously remembering those simpler times as well. Back when they were both smaller children, before any of the other maids in his entourage had come along and it was just the two of them, they took their baths together. Their young ages had deflected any criticism of impropriety. But now Harry was reaching his adolescence and Kim was already starting to blossom into womanhood. The boy was just too naive and innocent by nature to understand that it was wrong for them to do such things. She smiled in a coquettish way and leaned over him, brushing aside the wet fringe of hair covering his forehead and planting a chaste kiss in the middle, on the spot where he used to have his scar.
"You ask me this every day, Harry. We're getting too old to be allowed to bathe together. It just isn't proper."
Harry crossed his arms and scowled with a huff. Being soaking wet and nearly covered in rose petals, it made for a rather amusing sight.
"I don't care about proper! This is our special place and we should be allowed to do whatever we like. All that matters is that we're happy!"
Kim didn't seem at all bothered by this sudden change in temper. Of course, it could hardly have been a surprise to her. Harry was a capricious sort of boy, and tended to shift moods with alarming quickness. She knew how to deal with his tantrums, though, and kept smiling.
"Don't speak so wildly. You know what would happen if I got into the bath with you and your grandmother came to hear of it. She would surely think I was trying to vamp on you. She might even force me to leave you, and neither of us would want that to happen."
Harry closed his emerald eyes for a moment and nodded sullenly, already regretting his outburst. He was thankful that Kim had the patience of a saint. A lot of people would have given up on him a long time ago, but she always stayed by his side. All he wanted was for things to be simple again like they had been when he was small. Today was his eleventh birthday, but unlike most boys he hated it. It just marked one step closer to the time when he would have to abandon the life that he enjoyed. Harry despised the entire idea of growing up. He wanted to be a child forever.
"I understand. But you're the one talking nonsense, Kim. I would never let you go."
Such semi-romantic comments were also rather commonplace with Harry, who uttered them without any regard to their actual import, but she seemed nonetheless touched by the sentiment. She placed another kiss on the same spot.
"That's a very sweet thing to say, Harry. Now let's get you out of this bath and dressed. You mustn't keep the old lady waiting. It's hard enough for her to get out of bed lately."
"Okay."
Kim helped Harry to his feet and he stepped out of the tub. She took a soft towel from a nearby cabinet and dried him off, also removing the lingering petals from his face and body, as well as his hair. He came out smelling quite literally as fresh as a rose. Harry rinsed out his mouth and Kim helped put in his contact lenses. He had absolutely balked at the idea of wearing glasses. As his vision took a moment to adjust and sharpen, she ducked out into his bedroom. Harry ran a hand through his long hair, and Kim returned with a clean pair of underwear for him. Many boys his age would be extremely sheepish at the prospect of going into a room full of pretty older girls dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts, but he felt no compunction at all. Harry was completely at ease in the presence of his maids, a level of comfort that he felt with no other living person save for his grandmother.
Once his nakedness was at least somewhat covered, Harry followed Kim back out into his personal quarters and plopped down on his freshly arranged bed, using Alyssa's lap as a pillow. The young woman giggled at the sensation of the boy's damp hair against her bare skin and started playing with the matted fringe on his forehead. Kim looked over at him with a smile and headed back into the bathroom to clean up the mess in the tub. Melody walked over and gave him a somewhat teased order.
"Comfortable there, Harry? Roll over, so I can do something with that hair of yours."
Harry beamed back up at the girl,shifting his head to the side to grant her better access to his long flowing mane. He answered her in a soft tone.
"But what if I don't want to?"
"Then we'll all just have to tickle you into submission. Have you already forgotten what happened the last time you didn't do as we asked?"
"Please, anything but that! I swear to obey thy commands forever, my mistress!"
Melody laughed sweetly and leaned down to peck him on the end of the nose before starting to work his hair into a compact serpent. He wrinkled his nose in response and briefly took in the scent of her honey brown hair as it cascaded over his face. It actually smelled quite a bit like the color's namesake. Harry took a moment to reflect on how perfect his life was. He had a beautiful girl to bathe him in the morning, and now another was arranging his hair while he used a third as a head cushion. If anybody from outside his quarters could see him at that moment, they would think him to be a lecherous little scamp. But that really wasn't the case. He just loved the company of beautiful girls.
To him they represented everything that was clean and refreshing in the world, while other males were akin to filth. He thought that perhaps he could tolerate the company of another boy if he were as handsome as Harry rather vainly held himself to be, but he had yet to meet anybody that even came close to that description. Melody quite literally had her hands full just keeping his hair in place and called over for help.
"Christine, be a dear and come give me a hand. It's all I can do to keep a handle on this mop."
Harry frowned again.
"Please don't make fun of my hair. It took a long time to grow."
Christine moved to reassure him, speaking in a noticeable French accent. Her beauty had always mystified Harry to a certain extent. She had long silvery hair and shining crystal blue eyes. The girl of sixteen seemed to emit a sort of intrinsic allure that turned most men into stuttering masses of jelly, as he had seen from watching her interact with others within the estate. Harry himself was able to resist whatever it was, but often complimented her on her good looks regardless. Christine seemed to appreciate the fact that he didn't drool at the sight of her and quite happily joined his personal crew.
"Pay no mind to 'zis one, 'Arry. You 'aze 'ze most beautiful 'air I 'ave ever 'zeen on a boy."
Harry smirked triumphantly. It looked a bit misplaced on his fair facial features.
"And the French are the absolute authority on fashion. So there you go."
"Where are your 'air bands, 'Arry?"
"I must have lost them the other day. Somebody please toss me my wand."
Alyssa reached over and grabbed a magical wand from the small desk next to Harry's bed. She seemed to be a bit uncomfortable about touching the object, a bit shy of eleven inches and made of willow, and handed it over to Harry almost reverently. It had been his mother's first wand, the one that she had used while at Hogwarts. Being a brilliant Charms student, Lily Evans had managed to break the Ministry detection charm on the object during the summer before her third year, allowing her to perform underage magic at home without being caught by the authorities. Harry's grandmother had practically crowed about his mother being every bit the rule breaker that his father had been, the difference being that she had always been far more subtle about it.
It passed into Harry's possession on his seventh birthday, along with all of his mother's old school textbooks. Before her death, Lily had left the entire lot with Azalea for safekeeping. His grandmother had exhorted him to study the material hard so that he would be fully prepared to be at the top of his class at Hogwarts. And he had tried at first, but he just found the theory behind magic to be so painfully boring. It was positively intolerable, not to mention the very entire idea of studying such disgusting disciplines as taking care of magical plants and brewing potions. And then there was the historical study of magic, which he didn't even want to think about. And thus, most of Lily's school books had been relegated to gathering dust in a far corner of her son's bookshelf.
Harry did have a few subjects that he positively loved. While he despised magical theory, he found the actual results to be positively fascinating. He had inherited both his father's knack for Transfiguration and his mother's skill at Charms. In terms of pure magical potential, Harry was inordinately powerful from his birth, and a healthy childhood filled with positive reinforcement and an innate love for reading had only increased his reservoir. He was also highly intelligent despite his general disdain for anything that he viewed as work, including scholastic study, and had the marked potential for surpassing his parents in both respective disciplines, and in any other magical arts should he ever find the inclination to apply himself to them. It didn't seem all that likely.
He dove into his mother's Charms texts with gusto and memorized many of the wand movements. As for Transfiguration, his skill was simply natural. He never needed to use incantations when doing his magic, really only having to point the wand with the proper motion to cast spells. One of his grandmother's wizarding friends, a severe old witch that had some long Scottish surname, had explained to him once that it was a consequence of his immense natural power, as magic relied on a certain level of magical focus. Spell chants were mostly a sort of mnemonic to focus a practitioner's energy to a high enough level to break the threshold and get the desired reaction from the pure magic in the air. For an innately powerful wizard like Harry, even a somewhat disjointed level of concentration was enough to get tangible results. In a nutshell, the child Harry Potter boasted far more raw magical power than most adult wizards and witches. Or at least he thought she had said something to the effect. He didn't really care about why he was able to do the things that he did. All that mattered was that he could.
Harry grabbed a handful of flower blossoms from a wooden box that Sophia had brought over for him. It was common knowledge in Harry's entourage that these were what he used when he needed to create an object through transfiguration. He placed the assorted flowers down onto the bed and proceeded to create a total of eight silken hair ties. He had no idea that he was violating several magical laws with this simple action, though he likely would not have been particularly concerned regardless. Alyssa handed the hair ties to Christine, who used them to plait Harry's rapidly drying hair into one long segmented ponytail. On a normal day, the somewhat dandy child would have different flowers braided into the plaits, but he needed to hurry today. His grandmother was probably already waiting for him downstairs. Meanwhile, Christine took a step back and admired her work before squealing and giving him a peck on both cheeks.
"C'est magnifique! I jeest love working wiz' your 'air, 'Arry."
Melody stood up with a smile and walked over to Harry's closet. Kim, who had just finished cleaning up the bathroom, sat down in her spot and tickled the underside of Harry's chin, making him giggle. He glared at her and would have retaliated in kind, but just couldn't bring himself to move from his position on the beautiful Alyssa's lap. Melody's voice diverted his attention, regardless.
"What do you want to wear today, Harry?"
He thought for a moment and visibly pouted, remembering exactly what he was to do later that day. When he had visited his grandmother in her quarters the previous morning, she had told him that Minerva would be coming with his Hogwarts letter, and was going to escort him to some place in London to buy his school things. At that point, he connected the name with that old Scottish witch who often joined Azalea for tea and brunch during the summer months. Minerva McGonagall, that was her name. All of the girls noticed his downcast look, but had been in his company for long enough to understand that he was always in a bad mood on his birthday. Thus, instead of talking about it, they just attempted to keep Harry distracted, so as not to provoke one of his tantrums. All of them except Alyssa, who was still new and inadvertently raised the issue.
"What's the matter, Harry? You look upset about something."
That small flicker set off the explosion.
"Of course I'm bloody upset! It's my birthday, and as if that weren't bad enough, I have to go into bloody London with some hag and buy things for a school that I don't even want to go to!"
Even in his worst moods, it was very unlike Harry to swear. Kim tried to lighten the mood and cool his temper before he said something that he would really regret. Harry would often say the most terrible things in a fit of anger, but he would always be totally distraught afterwards if he had somehow hurt somebody's feelings, especially if it was one of the girls. He was such an emotional boy, but that was one of the things that everybody seemed to adore about him.
"Didn't you know, Alyssa? Our Harry is the only boy alive that despises his birthday."
"That's terrible! Everybody should be happy on their birthday..."
Harry sighed loudly.
"You've never seen it, Alyssa. The...people...that my grandmother brings in to celebrate my birthday. I mean, there's Petunia and that pig Dudley. And then all of my uncles show up too, and they always find something to criticize about me. Worst of all are these magical families the old lady invites from time to time..."
Most of the girls quietly listened as Harry ranted against all of the people that Azalea invited over on his birthday. Most of them had been friends with his parents while they were still alive, and now had children of their own. Conspicuous among them was another old lady and her grandson. The boy was a pudgy doofus who had apparently been born within the same week as Harry himself. He had seemed so overawed by the handsome boy's presence that he couldn't even talk, and Harry had been the one stuck entertaining him for the day. He had shoved the boy off on Dudley the last time he had visited, thinking that the two whales could find some common interest, and retreated back into his quarters to play dominoes with his maids for the rest of the day.
Two years ago, she had brought in an entire family of redheads, the Weasels or something. Those people were absolutely crude. The eldest son had been almost tolerable, and the third son might have been if not for his smug attitude. But there were two twin boys who ran around the compound playing pranks on the staff. The youngest son followed Harry around like a particularly malignant odor and constantly tried to chat him up about some dreadful wizarding sport, as if Harry would ever condescend to partake in such base physical activity. They also had a daughter, who would blush and run away at the sight of him. Sophia had witnessed it once, and later told him that the girl had a crush on him. Harry had been forced to endure hours of teasing from the girls on the subject, and the idea of him actually being romantic with the nit was revolting.
Alyssa looked at him sympathetically when he finished his diatribe, though he couldn't tell whether or not it was meant to be in a serious way. Melody had taken Harry's formal wear out of the closet with Kim's nodded approval.
"You poor thing. But at least none of those people will be here today..."
Harry nodded with a smile and cuddled further up against the stacked girl.
"I suppose that's true. I really ought to learn to look for the positive side of things. Thanks, Alyssa."
The girl basked in her young hero's fleeting compliment. Harry was blissfully unaware of the conflicting nature of the beautiful young woman's feelings regarding him. He might have seen things much more clearly had he been older or a bit more acute. As things were, he simply opted to enjoy all of the attention that she constantly lavished on him. Kim smiled slightly at the newest addition's performance in breaking their young charge's ill temper, though her eyes were unreadable. She herself gently rubbed his arm in a soothing manner.
"That's right, Harry. And don't you worry, we'll all be right here to make everything better once you get home from your trip to London."
Harry positively glowed at this.
"Do you really mean that? You promise?"
Melody was the one to respond.
"Of course, silly boy. When have we ever not been there for you?"
"That's true. I might as well get this mess over and done with, then."
The girls proceeded to get Harry dressed and ready for the day's activities. By the time he was ready to go downstairs, we was dressed in a silver dress shirt with matching socks. His unfastened jacket and pants were black, as well as his shoes. He looked quite fashionable and handsome, though he would have preferred to wear something much brighter. Harry delighted in prancing about in pastel colors as often as he could. Decked out in yellows and pinks with an entire rainbow of flowers arranged in the plaits of his hair, he often presented quite the peculiar sight. However, he knew that his grandmother would never let him out of the house looking like that, and he really just wanted to get his day finished so that he could recline back in his rooms with a good novel in his hand and his favorite girls at his side. After saying his goodbyes to his maids, he marched out his bedroom door in the direction of the downstairs parlor.
At about the same time, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, appeared on the walkway leading up to the Evans family compound with a soft crack. As much as she always enjoyed being able to enjoy a good breakfast and conversation with Lily's mother, the old witch couldn't help but somewhat ambivalent about the task with which she was charged. Minerva had only met the young Harry Potter on a few occasions, but those had been enough for her to gain a relatively decent measure of the child.
On the positive side, he was a sweet and charming boy. He was the type that very few people could remain angry with for any prolonged period of time. Potter was handsome and quite well spoken, and could quite easily carry on a sophisticated conversation with a learned adult if pressed into it, and if the subject suited his rather fickle interests. He was also immensely powerful, one of those special children born only once or twice in a generation. Minerva had seen Potter's raw magical aptitude for herself, as he had once given her a demonstration after being prodded by his grandmother. His talent in Transfiguration and Charms bordered on the level of being ridiculous. She had already exempted the boy from her first year class, and Filius Flitwick had tentatively done the same upon being told about young Potter's skill. The little man had practically jumped for joy upon hearing that Lily's son had inherited her affinity for his chosen discipline.
For all his good traits, there were some things about the boy that were absolutely frustrating. Minerva had never been in his quarters or seen him as he actually lived his daily life, but from the murmurs she had overheard around the estate during her visits, Potter was spoiled and pampered beyond belief. His attendants did literally everything for him. They themselves were a small harem of attractive young women who followed little Prince Potter around like his royal court. She could also see from his bored expression when she had tried to discuss the finer points of magic with the child that he held little interest in any sort of study, and it didn't stem from a lack of capacity to understand. Harry likewise seemed to despise any practice that required working with his hands. In essence, he was everything that Severus had always ranted that he would be. The Potions Master would positively loathe the boy, as if being James Potter's son wasn't reason enough.
Minerva found it unbelievable that Azalea Evans could have raised such an unmotivated child, but the truth of the matter was that the old woman's ailing health was such that she was largely unable to watch and discipline the boy, as he obviously needed to be. And being a Muggle, she was no qualified judge of progress in terms of magical study. All she could see was the myriad of charms and transfigurations that the boy could do simply on the laurels of his inherent gifts, and the admittedly impressive little act was more than enough to convince her that Potter was fully exerting himself. Perhaps a more stringent learning environment such as the one sponsored at Hogwarts would change his habits for the better. Minerva hoped so, as it would be a shame to see such a potentially great wizard be ruined by apathy.
At any rate, she would have a chance to observe him more closely today at Diagon Alley, and to see how he behaved when removed from the conflicting influences of his grandmother and his entourage of little vamps. Distracted by her thoughts, Minerva nearly tripped on the steps leading up to the expansive front porch of the compound. Shaking her head at her own absentmindedness, she strolled up to the ornate mahogany doors and knocked. After a rather brief moment, Azalea's old servant opened the door and greeted her.
"Ah, Madam McGonagall. We've been expecting you. Right this way, please. Madam Evans and the young master are both in the parlor and were just about to sit down to breakfast. You've arrived at exactly the right moment."
"It's always a pleasure, and please, just call me Minerva."
Parker nodded with a smile and led her into the parlor, where the nearly decrepit old lady was leaning onto her young grandson for support. It pained Minerva to see this once active and vibrant woman reduced to such a state that she could hardly get out of bed without assistance. She had strained her body when retrieving Harry from his aunt and uncle in Little Whinging, and had then tried to run the entire household herself. Eventually the burden had overwhelmed her, and she became what stood before Minerva now. Already glowing just from being in her grandson's company, she smiled even brighter upon seeing the Deputy Headmistress and hobbled forward to take her hand.
"How wonderful to see you again, Minnie. Harry was just telling me about how excited he is to be going to Hogwarts this term."
Minerva watched as the boy plastered a conciliatory smile onto his face and nodded. He had likely said something to the effect in order to appease his grandmother. The boy did genuinely care about the old woman's happiness, regardless of the probable lack of sincerity behind his words. For her part, the school professor decided to help keep her spirits high. After all, the young Potter was the old lady's pride and joy in life.
"As he should be. With the amount of progress he's made in his studies, he's quite sure to excel. The staff has already elected to exempt him from the introductory levels of some of his courses. He'll be several steps ahead of the rest ofhis class from the very start."
"Well, that's just spectacular. But be sure not to strain him too hard. He's a delicate boy."
"You won't need to worry about a thing, Azalea. We'll see that he's taken care of properly."
"Oh, I'm certain that you will. Now let's sit down to breakfast. You both have a busy day in front of you, and you'll need a good meal before you set out."
Minerva followed wordlessly behind as Potter led his grandmother into the dining hall with his long ponytail swaying behind him. The boy was impeccably dressed, in a fashion that could be equally attributed to either a Muggle or a wizard. Just from looking at him she could tell that once he hit his stride, Harry Potter would be the object of many a young witch's nighttime fantasies. Hopefully he wouldn't shatter as many hearts as his father had in his day. Minerva had her suspicions that the boy already had some experience on the subject of women, judging from the company that he tended to keep.
Breakfast was a relatively quick affair. Azalea questioned Minerva on the latest happenings at the school as they ate toast and drank coffee. Harry ate a bowl of fruit salad disinterestedly, with his only contribution to the mealtime conversation being an order to one of the servants for the apple crisp to be taken up to his quarters for his attendants' consumption after he himself had eaten a large slice. He was a bit disappointed to see that Petunia hadn't made an appearance. At least then he might have been able to have a little bit of fun baiting the woman. Dudley had already left for his school. His grandmother had sent him to some boarding academy that had classes all year round, so that he would only be coming home in spurts of a month or so each time. Presumably it was to get the boy more or less out of the house. Azalea had never openly expressed her dislike for Vernon and Petunia's son, but had made no particular effort to hide it either. Harry returned his attention to his grandmother and her guest upon hearing his name.
"Minnie, dear, why don't you give Harry his school letter now?"
Harry glanced over at the woman as she smiled thinly and produced an envelope from her handbag, offering it to him. He opened it and skimmed over the contents.
XXXXXXXXX
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. Enclosed is a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
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There was also the mentioned list of required textbooks, which Harry didn't bother looking at. He already knew more or less what he would be taking from looking at his mother's old school tomes and would only need the list to reference what exactly he was to purchase once at the bookstore. As for the other supplies, his escort would certainly take him everywhere he needed to go while they were at wherever they were going. Harry had never actually been to London before, though he wasn't exactly looking forward to the trip. He hated large crowds and loud noise, and was thus poorly suited to the hustle and bustle of the capital city.
"If you're through eating, perhaps we ought to get moving. We have quite a bit of shopping to get done today."
Harry nodded at Professor McGonagall and ventured a question.
"How exactly are we getting to London, anyway?"
"We'll be taking your grandmother's limousine. One of the servants is already bringing it around to pick us up."
He walked over to give his grandmother a hug and take his leave. The old lady left him with one admonishment.
"Be on your best behavior today, Harry."
"Of course, grandma. I'll show you everything I buy today when we get back."
"I'll be looking forward to it. Now go on, don't leave your professor waiting."
With a smile and a kiss to the old woman's cheek, Harry started out to the front of the grounds to begin his trip to the city. He was at least pleased that they weren't flying on broomsticks or something equally horrid.
The trip to London was largely an exercise in silence. McGonagall had brought a book with her and read the entire way, leaving Harry wishing that he had thought to do the same. He instead settled for gazing out the compartment window and observing the scenery. The boy found the urban architecture to be absolutely tasteless. Completely functional and equally lacking in any sort of aesthetic quality. He couldn't even begin to imagine living in such a grim and dismal place. And speaking of grim and dismal, he glanced over to his escort. The woman was a right old gargoyle. He didn't know if she was being intentionally unfriendly to him for whatever reason, but she hadn't so much as even attempted to say a word to him the entire trip. This was shaping up to be a long and miserable day.
Soon enough, the limousine came to a halt outside of a dingy old pub somewhere in the heart of metropolitan London. It seemed to be rather out of place in the long strip of trendy department stores and expensive cafes that lined the commercial district. The name of the establishment was positively crude and common as well, "The Leaky Cauldron." Harry guessed that Parker had just gotten lost or something and was stopping to ask directions. Naturally, he had no such good fortune. McGonagall addressed him for the first time since leaving the estate.
"We're here, Potter. Come on, get the lead out."
Harry stared at her incredulously.
"But this is a tavern, ma'am. I'll have you know that I've never touched a drop. Wait a minute, you aren't one of those women that gets young boys plastered and then tries to take advantage of them, are you?"
The Deputy Headmistress blanched and looked completely scandalized, though Harry imagined seeing a faint trace of a smile upon her stern features.
"Absolutely not! Of all the ridiculous things to say! Now get moving, we don't have all day."
Harry nodded with a laconic smile, having finally coaxed a reaction out of the woman. He exited the limousine and waited at the entrance to the pub, allowing McGonagall to lead the way inside. If he was a bit disturbed by the outside of the place, he was totally revolted by the interior. The establishment was dark and seedy, and the stench of tobacco smoke hung in the air like a stagnant mist. Harry found himself choking within seconds, having never been exposed to such filth in his entire life. He almost immediately gravitated towards the opened rear door, the only source of relatively fresh air in the entire place.
Harry admired the stone wall outside, wondering why the pub had bothered installing a door that led to nothing.
After a brief verbal exchange with the toothless old barkeep, McGonagall emerged from door behind him. He watched with more than a bit of confusion as she prodded the stone wall with her wand, and gasped loudly when it opened up to reveal a place the likes of which he had never seen before. The older witch turned to him, this time with a genuine smile on her face.
"Harry Potter, welcome to Diagon Alley."
At that moment, the entire idea of the magical world changed for Harry. For several years it had just been an abstract concept within the young boy's mind, something he had read about in textbooks and heard stories of from his grandmother and others. He had never doubted its existence, and had even performed actual magic himself. But not until seeing the inside of Diagon Alley did it become truly real. He took his first steps into this strange new world with emerald eyes as wide as saucers and a goofy grin on his aristocratic face.
(End Chapter One)
Author's Note: And that's the first real chapter of this story. Really, it was fifteen pages of almost nothing, but I wanted to devote an entire chapter to giving a portrayal of what Harry was like after years in Azalea's care. I hope I've adequately explain how he's ended up the way he is. Poor kid doesn't really even know how to dress himself. It'll be a difficult adjustment at Hogwarts, to say the least.
Now, on to the question that always seems to come up in a new fiction. I don't have any clue yet about what I'm going to do regarding shipping. I can say that there will be no romance for a good while, as Harry is still eleven. He is acutely more aware of the female form and such than most boys his age are, but he still hasn't even really hit puberty yet. His innate preference for the company of girls is more of an intangible thing. I can tentatively rule out Hermione and Ginny as pairing partners, and there won't be any slash. Let me assure you, as quirky as he does and will continue to act at times, Harry is not gay in this fiction. I also don't see anything happening with Cho on the romantic side of things. She will be rather actively involved in the story, but you'll just have to wait and see to what end. Feel free to suggest ships if you like.
Next chapter should have a lot more actual content, as we'll hopefully be going through the entire trip into Diagon Alley. Of course, given my tendency to get lost in details, it may get stretched out to two chapters, depending on how things go. Expect the next update sometime next week, as I want to alternate between posting for this and my other story. As I have been repeatedly told, I have a sick mind, so the rating on this might go up as disturbing plot ideas enter my head. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!
