AN - I don't own Harry Potter or any associated properties! All characters and fictional events belong to J.K Rowling!

"Customer assistance needed in Aisle 15," a voice rang out in the earpiece worn by a young man with messy, dark hair. Harry Potter had worked in the Horford Brothers' Hardware Store since he was 14 years old. Laziness was not tolerated in his household –his laziness more accurately– and he applied for the job to appease his Uncle. That was five long years ago. Five long years in which Harry had taken on more hours to pay the rental rates his Uncle charged him as he got older and "demanded more facilities." Five years of work in order to be barely tolerated by his own family. It was a sad life, but Harry believed it was the life he deserved.

He adjusted his round, cracked glasses and ran a hand through the hopeless mess of raven colored locks before responding to the call for customer assistance.

"Yeah, I'll get it." he sighed into the microphone that was clipped to the collar of his shirt, rising from his seat in the staff break room. "Looks like my break is ending early."

Harry exited the break room and navigated the store to Aisle 15. He could have walked there backwards with his eyes closed. Besides his primary and secondary schools, Harry had spent the most time working for the Horfords. He found the most joy being minimally appreciated and valued by the owners rather than being home with his passed by the charcoal grills, garden hoses, various paints, and other products, silently noting what he would have to restock from the side warehouse and what he would need to order more of. There was a game he played with it to keep himself entertained: if he could correctly guess what he would be able to restock and what he would need to order more of, Harry would award himself with a point. In truth, he didn't know what the points represented, and there was no threshold for some kind of reward, but it kept him occupied in the monotony of his everyday life.

As he rounded the corner, entering Aisle 15, he was met with the most peculiar sight. His manager, Alfred Horford, was engaged in conversation with a man dressed in rather ornate purple robes, adorned with patterns of gold and silk. He wore a cap of a similar pattern to his robes and half-moon spectacles that rested gently on the bridge of the man's nose. To Harry, the elderly man appeared to be something out of a fairy tale. A grand warlock that had lost his way from stories of knights and kings, and found his way into the home cookware section.

"Ah! Harry, thank you for joining us! This gentleman was hoping to inquire about…" Alfred trailed off as he forgot what the senior had requested. "My apologies. What were you looking for again?"

"I was hoping to find something rather special. Something I could use to bring some life back into my cooking," the man said gently.

"Right." Alfred seemed a bit put off by their aged customer, eyeing him up and down as if he were a teenager that was being rather mischievous.

"Sir, if I may, I would like to speak to the young man right here. I get the impression that he may be able to help me with what I'm looking for." The old man's eyes twinkled as his eyes met Harry's, his small smile growing broader as their gazes met.

"I'll leave you to it then." Alfred moves past their customer and whispers to Harry as he passes. "Keep an eye on this one. Shoplifters come in all shapes and sizes. Who knows how many pockets he's got in those robes…."

Alfred was one of the few people that Harry knew that he felt an acquaintanceship with. He was a kind and benevolent man, that could be strict if you were caught slacking off. Luckily, Harry was not much of a slacker. The only time he wasn't working diligently was when he was on his breaks, which rarely lasted longer than 15 minutes. For his consistent productivity, Alfred had taken a liking to Harry very early on in the boy's employment with the Horford Brothers. He taught Harry a substantial amount about the uses and techniques of the various tools, sprays, pipes, and other products that were available for purchase in the store. Harry had become a very knowledgeable handyman, perhaps one of the best in Little Whinging, and Alfred was proud of the boy for his constant modesty of his skill. Alfred trusted Harry to handle any situation that could be thrown at someone in a hardware store, especially strange individuals.

"Well sir, I'm not exactly sure what you're looking for specifically. Could you perhaps describe what product you're looking for?" Harry asks the man as Alfred leaves.

The man keeps his eyes on Alfred's back until he rounds the corner before snapping his eyes back to the young man that stood before him. He scans Harry's face, taking in his messy hair, his glasses, his eyes, and the scar that had become visible between the locks of hair that fell in front of Harry's forehead. Harry shifted under the man's intense gaze, looking between the security camera nestled in the corner at the end of the aisle and the man standing before him. He was about to call for security to have the man removed from the store, but the softening of the older gentleman had given Harry pause. It seemed to be an unfettered gladness, similar to the demeanor of a grandparent seeing their grandchild.

"You certainly have grown, Harry." The man spoke softly, as if recalling a pleasant memory from a distant past. "You're nearly identical to your father, but those eyes could only be your mother's."

"W-what?" Harry choked out, stunned by words that were just spoken to him. Harry went rigid, eyes widening at the mention of his parents.

"Oh? Have you not been told? I would assume that it would be a common occurrence for someone to hear about their likeness to their parents, especially for you!" The man cocked his head, curious about Harry's apparent lack of knowledge about his parents' appearances.

"I'm sorry, can we step back a moment?" Harry took a deep breath and began to rattle off questions. "Who are you, what have you come here for, why are you dressed like that, how do you know who I am, and how do you know what my parents looked like?"

The man merely chuckled and gave a soft smile to the young man before him. Clearly he was not given a proper lesson as to who he really was. He would have to pay his family a visit sometime to question them about Harry's confusion.

"My boy, is there anywhere to sit? I feel we have much to discuss."

"Y-yeah. I was about to clock out anyway." Harry said as he reached up to his microphone and relayed his intentions to Alfred. Once Alfred agreed to Harry's departure, Harry led his visitor out to the front of the store and into the approaching cool of night that awaited them. Clouds partially blocked the emerging stars and moon as they lazily drifted across the sky. There were several wicker patio chairs positioned around an unlit fire pit in a display for customers to observe as they entered the store. Harry guided the man to the chairs and sat down once the elderly man did the same. When it became clear that Harry was going to start asking more questions, the bearded man held up a hand, causing Harry to close his mouth.

"Let's start with the questions you have already asked. I'm afraid there will be more important questions to arise from our conversation," he smiled at Harry's itch to ask questions. "Let's start with the most basic answer to your questions. I am Albus Dumbledore. I have come to this fine establishment to speak to you in regards to something your parents wished for you long ago."

Harry leaned forward in his seat as his parents were mentioned again. He had never known of anything his parents wished for him. He believed that any hope of discovering what his parents were truly like had been lost to him many years ago. Harry listened intently as the man, apparently named Albus, spoke again.

"You see, Harry…Your parents wished for you to go to attend a school once you were old enough. Not just any school, however. A school for very gifted individuals, those who have greater abilities than those who do not." Dumbledore looked into Harry's eyes. "They wanted you to attend Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry's shoulders slumped. It was all starting to make sense now. This had to be some kind of prank his cousin was pulling on him. A school for witchcraft and wizardry named 'Hogwarts'? He mentally cursed himself for briefly falling into this trap.

"Sir, if you have been sent here by my cousin Dudley then I must ask you to leave. I will not be made a fool of for his attempt at a joke." Harry sighed, eyeing his surroundings as if someone were going to catch him being tricked. "I hope he really didn't believe that I would fall for something called 'Hogwarts.' Dumbledore frowned

"Harry…I have not been sent by your cousin. In fact I would like to have a word with Vernon and Petunia. You apparently don't know what your parents look like, you seem thin and tired, and you don't even know what Hogwarts is!" Dumbledore's tone grew even more serious. "It is most likely safe to assume you don't even know your own status…"

"Sorry? What the hell are you talking about?" Harry asked curiously. "You mean you're not here for some kind of scam?"

"Absolutely not!" Dumbledore took a brief moment to calm himself before continuing. "I've come to invite you to Hogwarts to begin your formal schooling as a wizard!"

Against his better judgment, Harry was beginning to find the senior man's words trustworthy. It was something about the twinkle in his eye as he addressed Harry that put the younger man at ease. It appeared to Harry that he was telling the truth…

"A what? Did you say wizard? Me? I couldn't be a wizard, I'm nothing special." Harry questioned, engaging more with the conversation.

"Yes, a wizard! Just like your parents. Though, your mother would have been classified as a witch. You come from a family of very incredible magic beings, responsible for some harrowing feats of magic and bravery."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. He was magic? His parents were magic? Was it possible that he could be something more than the small boy that had no friends and no loving family? Before he could buy into the tale any further, Harry could not resist the urge any longer. He had to see the magic for himself.

"Sir? Could you…could you show me some magic?" He inquired in a quiet voice.

Dumbledore smiled. It appeared you Harry was finally warming up to the truth about his heritage. Dumbledore stood and moved to stand next to the chair that Harry sat in. He glanced around, looking for any onlookers, and willed the chair he previously resided in to float into the air. He rotated it in various directions, spinning it on its proverbial head. With the slight flick of his hand, the chair stopped spinning and the white cushions joined the dance. They too spun and rotated as the wicker chair unraveled itself, being reduced to individual strips of wicker before reforming itself just as quickly. Harry's mouth hung open at the display that Dumbledore had just shown him. His eyes refused to blink as he took in the show that had been put on for him. As the chair and cushions were returned to their original state, Harry whipped his head towards his elder.

"That was brilliant!" Harry's excitement began to spill out of him. "I've never seen anything so amazing!"

"Oh but I think you have, Harry." Dumbledore replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, have you ever experienced some kind of strange phenomena? Something that happened that you couldn't explain when your emotions were running high?"

Harry looked back to the unlit fire pit in the middle of the circle of chairs. He began to recall times as a younger boy where he had been at the center of some unusual events. He had mysteriously appeared on the roof of his school while hiding from his cousin, glasses had shattered on the table when he burned himself on the stove, and he had trapped his cousin in a snake enclosure at the zoo after Dudley had pushed him over so he could get a better view of the reptile. Realization dawned on Harry's face as certain events in his life had been given explanation.

"Harry, you yourself have performed magic," Dumbledore said as he watched understanding flood Harry's eyes."Many young witches and wizards perform acts of accidental magic in their youth when their emotions are set to the extreme. For many muggle families, it is the first signal that their child is different. Once they come of age, someone will come to inform the family of the true nature of the phenomena they have experienced. The young witch or wizard is then given a formal invitation to Hogwarts to build their magical knowledge and skill. Speaking of which…"

Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to Harry who took it tentatively. He read the curvy and and flowing writing:

Mr. Harry Potter

Horford Brothers' Hardware

423 Hawking Drive, Little Whinging

Surrey

Harry flipped the letter and examined the front. A red stamp adorned the flap of the envelope displaying a crest. The crest itself contained four images of animals: a lion with a red background in the top left, a serpent with a green background in the top right, a badger with a yellow background in the bottom left, and a raven with a blue background in the bottom right. Below the crest itself was a set of Latin words that read, Draco, Dormiens Nunquam, Titillandus. Harry couldn't read the Latin, but he frankly didn't care. With shaking hands, he broke the seal and removed the letter that was housed inside.

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 September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

"Could you tell me a little more about Hogwarts, sir?" Harry asked after he had read the letter several times over. "I understand that it's a school, but what kind? A boarding school?"

"Well I suppose it is similar to one. Though I would compare it more to a muggle university. An invitation is most typically offered to a young, magical individual once they reach the age of 19 years old. For muggle-borns, they have usually completed secondary school by this time, allowing them to choose between continuing on at a muggle university, or pursuing magic at Hogwarts."

Harry took this information in as it was relayed to him. The Dursleys had never allowed him to pursue a higher education after secondary school, believing it to be a waste of resources on a boy with no greater purpose than cooking, cleaning, and working. He of course wanted to go to university, but without the proper funds and support, he had been unable to apply. He could hear the voices of his relatives in his head now. You magic? You're about as magic as my ass, boy. Now get back to work!

The opportunity, that had come to him in the form of an old man in eccentric purple robes, seemed very exciting for Harry, despite the doubt that had been ingrained in him. Not only would he be able to study magic –which was apparently real– but he would also be able to have a shared experience with his late parents. If Dumbledore knew Harry's parents, then who knows who else knew of his lineage. He couldn't help but wonder where this could possibly lead him, but he also didn't know if leaving his only living relatives was something he could bring himself to do, regardless of how they treated him.

"Sir, the letter said my 'owl' is due by July 31st. What does it mean by that?" Harry asked.

"Well owls are the primary mail carriers of the magical world. They carry packages and letters great distances." Dumbledore smiled. "They are perhaps the most reliable couriers in the world."

"Right…how would I call one to deliver my letter?"

"An owl will be nearby if you choose to accept the invitation. Just call out for it, tie the letter to its leg, and tell it to deliver the parcel to Professor McGonagall."

Harry was silent for a moment. He had everything he needed to make a decision right then and there. He could agree and go out on his own, leaving his relatives in the process. The alternative was, Harry could reject the invitation, stay in Little Whinging, and be close to his only living family.

Dumbledore could see the decision looming in Harry's eyes and patted the boy on the shoulder.

"Young man, I will leave you to your thoughts. But know this, Hogwarts is open to any and all those who want to pursue something greater in life."

Before Harry could look up and respond, he heard a crack and the man was gone. Harry's mouth hung open in shock. Had Dumbledore just teleported away? Was that something that Harry would be able to learn at Hogwarts? The possibilities seemed endless, but was that enough to leave his family behind? Harry stood, folding and placing the letter in his pocket, and moved to his bicycle. He unlocked the lock that was woven around the middle pipes of the bike, coiled it, put it in his bike pack under the seat, and began the long ride home.

AN - Thank you so much for reading chapter 1 of my story! I haven't really attempted writing a fanfic before so I hope I'm doing it right! Harry Potter is one of my favorite franchises and I'm excited to be writing my first story for this fandom! While I write, I like to listen to songs to give me a certain feel or vibe while doing so. The song I listened to for this chapter was a song called "It Won't Always Be Like This" by the band Inhaler. It's a song about looking to the future and moving on from hurt, something I feel Harry is going to need to do in this story. Please leave a review and I'll see you in the next chapter!