Chapter 2 - The Letters

A/N: Grammatical errors in /sign language/ are intentional, indicating the boys' skills and the general limitations of sign language. There's a very thick accent here. I think it's still readable, and reflects the character well, but do let me know if it's a hinderance.
Also, I *might* fudge the timeline a bit and add a few years between the Marauders class graduation and the fall of Voldemort, to allow more time for backstory to have developed for some of the characters. I haven't decided yet. That is why there is a blank date below that is usually accepted as 1991.

In hindsight it had been obvious the Letter was special. It was on bleeding parchment, written with an old-fashioned fountain pen, if Harry had ventured a guess, and specified his room! That part was actually rather creepy, but the point was he should have known it was special and hidden it to open later.

But three years of sort-of-kind-of-almost human/silent treatment on the part of his aunt and uncle had made him complacent, apparently.

Petunia gasped as he was tearing open the flap.

"What's that, boy!" Vernon growled, ripping it from his hands.

"Hey, it's mine," Harry yelled lunging for it. Vernon easily held it out of his reach, scoffing, and flipped it back and forth. Harry did get mail on occasion, from the BSL interpreter community, his bank, his social worker, and rather frequently thank you cards. It did not usually incite comment.

Vernon frowned at the fancy stamped seal on the back and held it up to Petunia. She gasped, snatched the Letter and fled with it. Vernon paled, glared at the boys and rose ponderously. Sticking them both with a glare that clearly said, "stay here" he backed out of the kitchen after his wife.

Harry immediately got up and tiptoed to the door frame, straining his ears and signing to Dudley.

/Of course I recognize it, Vernon! It's not exactly forgettable!/

/…we do?/

/We are not having _ in this house. But what can we do? They know his bedroom!/

/You think they are watching us?/

/Probably. What do we do?/

/Burn it./

Harry bristled. It was his mysterious letter! They had no right to burn it. But now Vernon was stomping back and Harry scrambled back to his seat, glaring at this food.

Vernon entered, glaring at Harry as if the Letter had been his fault, and resumed his seat. "Not hungry, boy?" he asked smugly when Harry did not continue eating.

"Not so much just now, thanks," he replied, unable to stop himself being surly. He still, normally, kept an obnoxiously humble and polite tone around his aunt and uncle, but lately it had been harder. He didn't bother signing this for Dudley, who could follow this kind of conversation pretty well with lip reading.

"Runt," Vernon growled, returning to his own meal.

/Pig,/ Dudley signed at Harry, meaning Vernon.

Harry just managed to contain his snort of laughter.

The next day, Vernon took his coffee and his newspaper to the sitting room and moved an armchair as close to the hall entry as possible. The boys exchanged puzzled looks and a silent conversation about his sanity. However, his move was proved justified when they smelled smoke in the sitting room and peeked in to see him supervising the immolation of two letters that looked—from a brief and distant glance—identical to the one from yesterday.

The next day there were six letters. Vernon intercepted them all.

The fourth day the boys got up early and snuck out the back door to camp out on the curb and waylay the postman. Petunia found them, at first frantic that Dudley was missing, then furious at both of them. She dragged them back to the house by their ears, even Dudley, who could have flattened her in two seconds from his wrestling training but apparently was reluctant to do so to his own mother, even after everything she had done—or not done as the case may be.

There were no Letters in the post that day. But when Harry opened the new crate of eggs the shells had a very parchment look, and when he cracked them they didn't so much crack as rip! He almost had the first shell open, had almost snatched the corner of an envelope stuffed inside—Petunia spied his expression from across the room and snatched the whole dozen eggs from him.

Vernon was equally displeased with the appearance of more Letters and the lack of eggs with breakfast.

The fifth day again saw no letters, but the boys were kicked out of the house with a £20 note and orders to go to the pancake house two blocks away for breakfast, and not come back until 10 am. Three hours from now and well past all the usual morning deliveries of post, groceries, and milk.

Sulkily they agreed. Dudley broke his diet in retribution and ate an enormous stack of pancakes and tried coffee for the first time. It was disgusting. The waitress thought his sputtering and spiting was adorable. Harry ordered tea and granola with yoghurt: the waitress was bemused.

They were done before 8 and decided, to hell with the crazy orders, they were going to camp out where they could at least see the house.

Any thoughts of remaining far enough away to technically be following orders, and hopefully remain undetected, went completely out the window when they came in sight of the house.

In the front garden, standing right on the tulips Harry worked so hard to arrange in perfectly neat rows by color, was the tallest, heaviest man the boys had ever seen! His head was one giant mass of hair, and his body was hidden in a massive fur coat despite the warm summer morning.

/Who is that?/ Harry signed.

/Don't know,/ Dudley replied. /How is he that big? Isn't that biologically impossible?/

/Thought so,/ Harry said, starting to walk towards the giant.

The huge man was mostly watching the front door, where there seemed to be another visitor arguing into the house. When they were a few houses away he finally looked around and spotted them, breaking into a massive, warm, disarming smile.

"Oi! Purfessa! 'Ere he is!" the giant called. The figure at the door spun and there was a bang at the door. The giant stepped off the tulips and the sidewalk trembled under him.

/Blimey!/ Harry signed to Dudley. /He's at least nine feet tall!/ Dudley nodded, eyes wide and fascinated.

"'Arry!" the giant called. "There ye are! We was wanting to speak wi' ye. Haven't got a reply from yer Letter, see? I'm never too sure about this muggle post thingy; always used owls meself. Did'ne any of 'em get through to ye?"

Harry fumbled through signing the gist for Dudley, as he knew the massive beard and the accent would make lip reading impossible. "Are the Letters from you?" Harry asked, delighted, and somewhat confused.

"They are not," a new voice answered. The other figure, having approached from behind the giant and thus hidden from view, now stepped suddenly to the side. The boys jumped. The man was tall and slender, with dark, lank hair, sallow skin, and a large, slightly hooked nose. His face was almost comically stern—almost. His clothing was fastidious, and completely black. His sharp eyes roved quickly over both boys, snagging on Harry's shoes, glasses, hair, and most importantly, hands. Harry felt he had just assessed the relative value of each of their articles of clothing, his lens prescription, shampoo, and the quality of his signing and found each and every one wanting. "I am Severus Snape," he continued, in a formal and commanding voice. "Master of Potions and Defense, and Professor of Potions and Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, from whence your letters originated. This is Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at the same. You are Harry Potter, Scion and Heir of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter, child of the late James Icarus Potter and Lily Rose Potter née Evans. Well met." He concluded with a slight, but definite bow of the head.

Harry starred at them for a long moment then looked to Dudley. /What?/

/Did he really say p-o-t-i-o-n-s?/ Dudley replied.

Harry nodded. /Yes, and w-i-z-a-r-d-r-y. Prank?/

"It is certainly not a prank, Potter," the man snarled. Harry wiped his head back around. "So, you aren't deaf. That is something. Wizardry is signed like this," he demonstrated, "and potions, thus."

Harry and Dudley both tried the unusual signs as their eyes lit up. "You know sign language?" Harry asked.

"I know many languages, Potter. As a Head of House it is my duty to learn anything which may aid my students. I do not know what the custom is here among muggles, but among our people when someone greets you it is polite to return the greeting. Well met, I said." He repeated the bow, even more stiffly.

"Oh, sorry! Right. Well met…sir," Harry scrambled, mimicking the bow. Dudley sniggered. "Well met, Mr. Hagrid, was it?" The giant bobbed his head happily in confirmation. "Um, this is my cousin, Dudley. He's deaf. I sign for him. His name sign is like this."

The Snape man snorted. "Big D? Rather too apropos, perhaps?"

Harry bristled. But the Snape man made a clear chopping motion. "Did you receive any of your letters, Potter?"

"No. My uncle burned them all."

Snape's eyes grew wide with anger. "He burned them," he repeated, disbelieving. "He wouldn't dare."

Harry clamped his lips shut, thinking the man was implying he was lying, but Dudley rolled his eyes and began signing to Snape.

/He's a massive git and hates Harry and anything unusual. / He eyed the two of them, clearly indicating they were in that category. /He burned them. They sent us out for breakfast to stop us stealing them./

Just then a massive crash announced the arrival of Vernon, having climbed to the top of the garden gate on a pile of rubbish bins and fallen over it. Petunia followed only slightly more gracefully. Harry had no idea why they hadn't just come out the front door.

"You leave them alone! Stay away from him! We'll have none of that freakishness in our house, you hear me!"

With impressive dignity, Snape turned to look down is nose at Vernon.

"Freakishness?" Snape repeated acidly.

"He's not going to that—that freak school!" Petunia shrieked. Both seemed to have forgotten that this was happening on the driveway and sidewalk, at barely 8:30 on a Saturday morning. Harry noticed quite a few neighbors peeking around their curtains.

"Oi!" Hagrid broke in, almost chuckling. "An you think a great muggle like yerself will stop 'im, eh? I'd loik to see yeh try."

"Are you threatening me, you great freakish oaf?' Vernon blustered, swelling and turning an even deeper red.

"Really, Petunia, this is a most tedious scene you are allowing to unfold on your front lawn. I am appalled at your lack of decorum," Snape sneered. Harry and Dudley looked at each other; he spoke like he knew Petunia, but how on earth…?

"You always were a horrible, twisted, little—" Well, that was an affirmative.

But Snape continued as if she had not spoken. "Perhaps we can move this tete a tete inside? Or we would be happy to take Harry somewhere more…comfortable."

Harry inched closer to Dudley, who grabbed his arms and snapped his fingers to get Snape's attention. /Harry goes nowhere without me./

Snape lifted an eyebrow. "Really? You have a staunch protector, Potter."

"We're…I'm…" there were too many things Harry wanted to say at once. "Why do you say my name like that? Like it's—"

"Enough," Snape cut him off. Strangely, Petunia and Vernon fell silent as well. "This is neither the time nor place for such a discussion." Snape himself began signing the rest of his speech, glancing occasionally at Dudley as he did so. "Potter, you may choose. Inside, back garden, or café?"

"Um…" Harry glanced around at everyone. "The—back garden is nice, if…if everyone can keep it down?"

Mr. Snape nodded sharply. "Very well." Spinning on a heel he marched straight towards the locked garden gate which the elder Dursley's had scaled. Snapping it open—hadn't it been locked?—he gestured for the boys to proceed him through.

The boys scurried along the small side yard, a mere three feet wide, between the house and the fence. The back garden was small, as expected, but there was a patio with a table set, a small lawn still mostly green and neatly trimmed. In one corner a young chestnut tree provided shade, while a tall fir stood sentinel in the other. The whole area was surrounded by narrow raised beds behind ground level beds, all full of lovely summer blooms.

"A fair spot, indeed. I had not realized you were so successful with ornamental herbs, Petunia," Snape said begrudgingly. The boys snorted and he looked at them sharply—everything he did was sharp!

/Those ones are mine; those are Dudley's. We do that one together./ Harry told him.

The man merely raised a brow. Petunia was bristling as she and Vernon were swept into the back garden by Hagrid. The giant man ushered them to stand by one of the planters, where they stood strangely still.

Snape spun and claimed one of the four patio seats, gesturing the boys to join him. "Sit," he commanded. They did so. The elder Dursley's remained standing, fidgeting nervously and obviously wanting to interrupt, but for some reason reigning themselves in. Hagrid settled himself on the lawn. Harry rather mourned for the grass torn up and squashed in the process. Lawns were hard! However, his placement put him at easy distance to intercept any action by the Dursleys. During the following interview the boys were often distracted by shufflings and snufflings in his many pockets and kept a running side conversation of how many animals he carried around with him and what they might be.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said, speaking his name more levelly than before. "You have not received your Letter. You must do so, and formally accept the offer. Once that is completed Hagrid and I will escort you to acquire your school supplies. I meant to offer to schedule a date to accompany you and a guardian, but given the situation, we will do so today, as soon as possible, and preferably without their interference." He sent a burning side eye to the blustering adults. "All new students are required to obtain a basic magimedical exam from a qualified Healer; we will add that to today's list as well."

"Here is your Letter." He pulled an envelope from inside his suit coat and slid it across the table to Harry. In doing so, he crossed his hand out of the shadow-filled corner of the patio he had chosen and into the sunlight. Once Harry had the letter he swiftly withdrew his hand. Harry met Dudley's eye with a quirk of the brow.

:Vampire?: he thought at Dudley. Over the past four years they had developed an uncanny ability, rarely seen outside of twins, to guess what the other was thinking. It wasn't actually communication, per se, but it seemed to work.

Dudley shrugged and nodded to the letter.

Harry kept one eye on the Dursley's as he tore at the envelope. Mr. Snape tsked. "It's sealed with a wax stamp," his mouth twisted as if wishing to add an unflattering epitaph. "Simply break the seal and it will open with no barbaric shredding of parchment."

Harry cocked his head at the man and gave Dudley another look.

/Asperger's?/

/just open the letter, Harry./ For some reason Snape started almost violently when he saw Dudley do Harry's name sign. The man was so weird!

Flipping the envelope over, Harry examined the seal and found that indeed, it was only sealed with the formal wax seal, no other adhesive. He hated to break something that cool looking, so he carefully pried it open and slipped out—three sets of thick folded parchment that all immediately expanded to be far larger than the envelope!

"Blimey," said Harry. Dudley scooted right up next to him to read over his shoulder.

To Mr. Potter,
Scion and Heir of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter
Second Bedroom on the Right
Number 4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
United Kingdom of England, Wales, and Scotland

From Professor Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
The Black Lake
Aberdeenshire
United Kingdom of Alba, Brittany, Cymru, Eire, Kernow, and Mannin

11 July, _

Dear Mr. Potter,

I hope this letter finds you well.

Please find enclosed your official offer of admittance to Hogwarts. Also enclosed you will find supplies lists, your train ticket for the Hogwarts Express, and communications from the Wizarding Family Services legal department, Gringotts legal department, and some personal files, pertinent to your reentry into the world of Wizarding Britain.

We have awaited this day for ten long years. Your parents are fondly remembered by all who knew them.

Should you and the muggles require any assistance in necessary preparations for your time at Hogwarts, you may owl myself, Severus Snape, or Andromeda Tonks. We are all very familiar with the muggle world and happy to assist you.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall, M.T., M.E.,

He passed the letter to Dudley to finish, as he read more slowly. The page behind that one was indeed an even more officious looking version of mostly the same thing. He was formally offered a position as a student at this Hogwarts school. The sheet behind that one was a supplies list chock full of the most bizarre things. He was hard pressed to keep a straight face on that one. Next were several pages of the school code of conduct, rules and responsibilities, procedures for everything from house points and detentions to what to do if you—accidentally vanish your bones, release a class XXX creature in the school, or melt your schoolbooks?

Harry closely examined the parchment, lightly twisting it this way and tat, smelling and even licking it.

"What on earth are you doing now?" Snape growled.

"Wondering how you guys made paper than can melt. It's usually stable up to the flash point, and then—Woah!"

The man had reached into his blazer again, this time retrieving a small vial. He snatched the envelope from the packets and carefully aimed a single drop onto the corner. The parchment instantly turned into a green goo and melted through the metal weaving that made up the tabletop!

"Wicked!" Harry cried excitedly, bending over the goo. "You just carry that stuff around with you all the time?"

The man smirked. "I carry anything that might prove useful," he smirked, signing his answer as well.

Harry exchanged bemused looks with Dudley. /How is this something regularly useful?/

"Back to the matter at hand?" Snape snarled and signed at them.

Harry turned back to his papers. There was the bank letter; Gringotts, these people sure went in for weird names. A couple pamphlets about different crazy stores, clubs, and things; a couple other formal business looking letters, and at the far back two other lett—

Harry froze, staring at the last two folded pieces of paper. Dudley leaned over, squinting to read the fancy handwriting. His eyes grew wide, then he glared at Snape. /Is this real?/

"Everything in that envelope is as real as I am," he replied, signing and enunciating clearly.

Dudley eyed him up and down and looked over at Hagrid. /Not reassuring./

/You doubt your senses?/

/No kidding, Sherlock. A vampire and a giant show up, silence my parents, give my brother strange letters from his dead parents. No sure what the game is but not trust anything./

Snape rolled his eyes. "I am not a vampire, though the appellation has been liberally applied to my person. I do believe a real dhamphyre would be insulted."

/A what?/ Dudley signed back, not recognizing the word or the sign used.

/A real v-a-m-p-i-r-e. The real creature is called a d-h-a-m-p-h-y-r-e, signed Blood-Vulture./

Dudley blinked, unsure if he were more disturbed that vampires were real or that they weren't actually called "vampires." /Appropriate,/ he eventually concluded.

/Indeed./ "Mr. Potter. Please resume normal respiratory function. My time is valuable and our list of activities to accomplish today is growing rather than dwindling, so if you could attend to the—"

"Why are there letters from my parents in here?" Harry choked out. The look he gave Snape was so raw, to pained as to give the man real pause. For a moment he simply tapped his fingertips on the table, clearly reassessing the situation.

"Your parents left the letters with Hogwarts, to be delivered with your school letter in the event of their death. They appeared in the envelope when it was conjured."

"Conjured?" Harry repeated.

In answer, Snape pulled a wand from his sleeve—there was no other word for it: thin spindle of dark, polished, wood scarcely thicker than a pencil and just over a foot long. With a wave and a flick a full tea service in plain white china appeared on the table.

''Conjuration," he explained, tapping the lid of the teapot then stowing the wand. Behind the boys the Dursley's made muffled squeaking and whimpering sounds. ''The art of temporarily creating something from nothing. More accurately, rearranging the molecules in the immediate vicinity to mimic something according to your mental instructions. Mastery provides additional detail, functionality, and longevity. Advanced conjurations may include animation or even independent functionality, such as the conjuration of animals with realistic behavior, or simple machines that actually work. Conjuration of consumable substances, however, is more akin to summoning, as it is merely the relocation of a thing of which you have intimate knowledge. For instance," he lifted the lid from the pot, "tea. This tea was conjured, or more accurately summoned through folded space, into the pot from the kitchens at Hogwarts. Likewise," he replaced the lid and lifted another, "sugar, and cream. Preferences, boys?"

They looked at each other.

/Where did it come from?/ Dudley signed.

/No idea. It smells real./ Harry replied.

/The tea is real, gentlemen. Cream? Sugar?/ Snape signed at them, after a sharp clearing of his throat. He deftly mixed his own cup and took a sip to demonstrate, even wafted the pungent odor of good, strong, British black tea towards them.

Harry briefly signed their preferences while Dudley picked up and closely examined a spoon. He bit the metal, rapped it on the table, then bent it nearly perpendicular in the middle.

"I hope you are not so destructive in your usual experimentations, Mr. Dursley," Snape said snidely, as he passed Dudley his tea (having first made sure of his attention). "That spoon may cease to exist ten minutes from now but most do not."

Dudley blushed and attempted to straighten the damaged cutlery.

Harry took his cup gingerly, and hesitantly took a sip. His eyebrows shot up. It was indeed real tea! Despite himself he was finding he somewhat liked Mr. Snape. His hands reminded him of Mr. Ashik. He was quick, precise, and graceful while he signed to Dudley and while he prepared their tea. Also, he didn't mind explaining things or using real words with children.

"Hagrid," Snape said, producing the wand again and tapping a cup. It ballooned up to three times the usual size! Snape poured into it and the tea kept coming and coming and coming…it was a never-ending tea pot!

/Wow,/ the boys signed extra slowly as Snape performed a similar feat with the sugar, and then used his wand to send the cup floating over to the giant.

"Now, you were sounding skeptical about the art of conjuration. I trust I have put those doubts to rest. Have you other fields of magic to malign or may we finally move on to your official acceptance at Hogwarts?"

Harry fidgeted. "Look," he said, signing as well. "This is really cool, and that was awesome, and I can't wait to read all this stuff—it all looks…well, really cool, I guess, and I don't know how you did all that but—but what the heck is witchcraft and wizardry anyway? Where is Hogwarts? Why are you guys even…why me? What did my parents have to do with any of this?"

A deep chuckle drew their attention the giant. Good thing too because Snape looked ready to explode. "Blimey, Harry. Surely ye know all 'bout 'Ogwarts? Did'ne wonder where yer parents learn't it all?"

"All…what?" Harry asked haltingly.

"'All wh'—What?!" the giant echoed. "Sev'rus, am I'm turning barney or does 'Arry Potter not acchully know 'bout 'Ogwarts? 'Bout anythin'?"

Harry looked fearfully between the two men, only to watch as Snape's eyes turned hard beyond flint and rose slowly to rest on the Dursleys. "They never told you," he whispered. He stood abruptly and stepped back from the tables. "YOU NEVER TOLD HIM!" he bellowed.

He lunged forwards grabbing Petunia's shirt collar, lifting her slightly off the ground and shaking her. Vernon paled and purpled but seemed otherwise inert.

"How is it, Petunia, that THIS CHILD, the child of LILY EVANS, your own SISTER, the most BRILIANT WITCH IN THE CENTURY, the woman who GAVE HER LIFE, for HIM, for YOU, for EVERYONE IN BRITAIN, doesn't know WHO HIS MOTHER IS?!"

He all but flung her to the ground, and stood towering over her, quivering in rage. "You selfish, worthless, evil, pathetic excuse for human flesh! I ought to turn you inside out RIGHT NOW and cut you down into potions ingredients, not that they'd help me in any brew known to man. How DARE you lie to him! TO HIM! If you spent a hundred years rotting in Azkaban it wouldn't be a tithe of what you deserve, you miserable Horrible WRETCH!"

"A'right, Sev'rus, that's enough o' that now, eh?" Hagrid came up behind Snape, picked him up by the biceps and set him back down closer to the table. "Up you go, missus. Reckon you didn't make a wise choice on this one, eh? A'right then. Now. Ever'body calm? Good. Nah then. 'Arry. What do yeh know 'bout magic?"

It took at least a minute for Harry to respond. He and Dudley were plastered as far back in their seats as they could get and frozen in absolute shock seeing someone truly stand up to Petunia and Vernon and call them out. But Harry was no less in the dark, really, so he turned to Hagrid.

"Um, I guess, nothing? I mean, not, I think, in the way you mean. Not like…not magic like this," he gestured to the tea tray.

"Ah. Well, most muggles don't know 'bout magic. Some don' take tae well tae the idea. But Magic is real, and it's bloody brilliant, it is!" His large eyes sparkled as he settled himself down on the patio, the concreate groaning under him, and leaned in close to Harry. "Magic is…well, eh, is…mmm. Is like touching a thing yeh can't see, like…eh, like the wind, or summat, and if ye can touch it, an' understand it, and love it, and if ye knows 'ow, it can do things fer 'ye."

"Like make a tea set out of thin air," Harry supplied. He noticed that Snape had gotten himself enough under control (not that much, really, if the flared nostrils were any clue) to be able to translate for Dudley, as Hagrid was impossible to lip read.

"Aye, 'Arry. Loik 'at. And loads of other stuff. But magic is a dead secret from muggles—"

"What are muggles?'

"Oh! O' course! Folk who got no magic. Loik them blokes. Sad if ye ask me, but then I ain't in charge. So. Hogwarts School is where all the majlings of Britain go to learn to touch and control ther magic. Eh, 'course, you would be a wizard, and Professor Snape, being males; and the ladies we call witches. But generally speaking magic folk r'called mages, and afore yer of age, we say majlings. Anyways, yes, yer parents were right brilliant mages, the both of 'em, as yeh heard Professor Snape just a moment ago. Boy, yer mother was really summat! Bit of a firebrand if ye got her riled. Never a wise move, that."

He gave Harry an exaggerated wink.

"And my dad?" asked Harry. Somehow, now that the giant was the one talking, telling him more details all crammed together, it all seemed to make a fuller picture. Maybe he just started at a better point to explain?

"Oh! Yer dad was a natural flier—oh, on brooms, yeh. He played Quidditch, Chaser, for Gryffindor. He was brilliant at transfiguration, and Magical Creatures. Course, being a Potter, than bit comes summat natural, donit? I wish he were alive for yeh ter see 'im fly! He were something te see. Course we get a few every now and again. Jes' last year Charlie Weasley graduated. If anyone was ever better'n James it were 'im."

Harry's eyes were massive by now, drinking in everything the giant said. He glanced down at the papers. "And…and Hogwarts, is real? What's it like? I mean, is it a building or a big campus—"

Hagrid was laughing. "Tha's jus' precious, tha' is. Why, 'Arry! 'Ogwarts is a castle, don' ye know? Aye, a bit, massive, mountain of a castle, with a huge lawn down to the Black Lake, an' a little boat harbor, an' mountains all 'round te keep the muggles out, and our own Quidditch pitch, and gardens and the forest and—"

"Yes, yes, Hagrid. I think he begins to get the picture. Are you satisfied yet, Potter? More questions?"

Harry thought over this most insane conversation. He has so many questions! Which was the most pressing?

"What did you mean about my mom giving her life for me, for Britain?" he asked. Belatedly he signed for Dudley as Snape sat thinking and breathing hard, frequently closing his eyes to think.

At length man put his elbow on the table and half hid his face in his steepled fingers. With a deep breath he suddenly reared back, sitting absolutely straight. "What do you know of your parent's deaths?"

"Um, they said," he nodded to the Dursleys, "they died in a car crash. Drunk." Harry somehow knew this was untrue. He'd always hoped but based on the conversation so far he figured Snape had a different story, and that he would not like the one Harry had just summarized.

For a moment the man literally vibrated with suppressed rage. A massive snort from Hagrid and a glare towards the offending couple indicated he shared Snape's sentiments. Snape again took a deep breath, seeming to mutter a list of something under his breath before fixing his eyes intensely on Harry.

"Your father and I were not friends, Potter. We were bitter rivals at school, me against him and his merry band of miscreants. No doubt they would claim even odds with that arrangement, to which…well, there may be some truth."

Hagrid interrupted with a snort. "Ye were a right devil child, from time te time, Sev'rus. No mistake there. An t'were only James and Sir'us gave ye any real trouble."

Snape saved away his comment. "That said, even I will attest that James Potter, irresolute trouble maker that he was, never drove a muggle car in his life. He was, furthermore an extremely talented wizard, generous to a fault amongst his friends, and one of the most gifted duelists I have ever faced. And the only times I witnessed him drink to excess he had safely measures in place before hand to ensure the safety of anyone he considered under his care. Usually in the form of one Remus Lupin, who refused all libations, and was gifted with certain—abilities that enabled him to control any inebriated companions."

Another centering breath. "Your mother, Lily Evans, was…the best, indeed the only joyful thing in my early life. She was… No. Another time I may tell you that.

"There was a man, a wizard, similar to the muggle man Hitler in goals and ideals, gaining power in wizarding Britain while we were in school. Your parents were among those who resisted his attempts to rise further. He targeted them, and you as their child. They went into hiding around the time of your birth. They were betrayed. On Halloween night of 1981 the Dark Lord Voldemort entered the house in Godric's Hallow that he should never have been able to find. Your father was killed attempting to hold him in the entry. He took a dark withering hex, overpowered, in the side, here," Snape pointed to his lower right ribs. "He was found near the bottom of the stairs, wand in hand. Based on the aurors' report—that's our police, sort of—anyway, he managed roughly half a dozen spell exchanges with arguably the most powerful wizard in Britain, aside from Albus Dumbledore. The previous record, aside from Dumbledore himself, was four. He received an Order of Merlin, Second Class.

"For reasons unknown to us your mother did not have her wand with her. The Dark Lord cornered here in your nursery on the upper floor. She was found lying in front of your crib, taken by what we call the Killing Curse, which cannot be deflected or shielded against, and is considered one of the most evil magics in existence. It instantly severs the connection of the body to the soul. The mere attempt at casting it is enough for a life sentence in Azkaban. The reports indicate that she was facing the door when the spell was cast. There may have been an exchange between them, of words, I mean. But we cannot know.

"It is also unknown what happened next. He cast something at you. You were in your crib. We do not know what he cast, but we know it left that scar behind," he gestured at Harry's head. "And we know that whatever it was triggered something that resulted in his destruction, or at least the destruction of his body, and much of the upper floor of your parents' house. Over half the roof was missing when the aurors arrived. The generally accepted theory is that he cast the Killing Curse at you, that it rebounded for reasons unknown and struck him, causing the explosion that defeated him and stopped his rise to power.

"A number of spells and curses that he had cast over the years ended instantly; people restored to their right minds and health, that kind of thing. His wand was found and is locked away in the Ministry—ah, yes, we have our own Ministry, and several…you could say cells, within the muggle branches of government who oversee the same functions as their non-magical colleagues, just, for our own people. However, they primarily answer to the umbrella leadership of the Ministry of Magic.

"But the point, Mr. Potter, is that something miraculous even within the world of magic occurred the night your parents died and resulted in freeing wizarding Britain from its greatest threat since the Blitz, which nearly destroyed our enclave in London. You are widely hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived, and hero or savior of our people. While you seem to have been blissfully ensconced away from all the 'hype,' our world has spent a decade regaled with wild stories of your origins, adventures, secret training, and awe-inspiring powers."

He delivered this so drily as to be almost comical, and Harry couldn't help but ask, "you don't look as if you share that opinion, sir."

The man quirked his lips. "Observant. I am afraid I hold little stock in the idea that anything about a one-year-old could foil the most malicious, powerful, and cunning wizard of the century. I had a fair share of firsthand knowledge of the Dark Lord, and he was if anything over cautious with his own person. Personally, I hold to the theory that your mother is the real cause of his demise. That she set a trap as a last resort, and that it is somehow the reason she was without her wand and standing over you, not fleeing, when he found you, and that her trap was sprung by his subsequent actions. And, though my theory is not widely shared, she also received an Order of Merlin.

"Additionally," he tacked on with slightly more venom, "I do not, as a rule, throw myself behind anything that echoes of 'hype,' fanaticism, or hero worship."

Harry sat very still after this, and everyone let him alone for the time being as he processed this…stupendous revelation. "So…my parents were killed by a…basically a terrorist?"

Snape nodded.

"And… they could do stuff like this? Like magic?"

Snape snorted. "Harry, this is so mundane in our world as to be beneath comment. Few people in our world take the trouble of even owning dishes and cutlery, they are so easy to conjure. Having a set of real dishes is often a sign either of wealth, that you have the space, magic, or time to accommodate a collection, or of magical weakness, that your power is so weak or unstable you can't conjure what you need, when you need it. The same often goes for furniture. Most people will have just a few pieces that they use often and for long stretches and merely conjure anything else. Your parents, were exceptional magicians for their age."

Harry just nodded blankly. "And this…this school is real. It really exists? They actually teach magic?"

Snape sighed. "Mr. Potter, if it weren't so bloody inconvenient and unnecessary in this instance I would laud your skepticism. It shoes rather extreme insight and well-honed cunning, worthy of a member of my House. Nevertheless. have you ever had anything unusual or unnatural happen around you? Perhaps when stressed, frightened, or over excited? Lights flickering? Windows rattling? Things zooming around you? Perhaps injuries that healed abnormally quickly, or—"

He cut off as he saw the expressions on both boys' faces change, gaining a knowing look, before Dudley lightly punched Harry on the arm, and gave him a knowing, superior grin.

/Show him!/

/What?/ Harry signed back. /it's very different from this./ He gestured at the tea set.

/So?/ Dudley replied. /Maybe it's not different. You don't know. Do it!/

Harry sighed. /Which one?/

Dudley cocked his head and made the sign they'd invented for what Harry called the Lumi Light.

/Really? It won't show up well out here./

/Do it!/ Dudley signed, with a stubborn look at Snape.

Harry nodded firmly. He sat up straighter and closed his eye for a moment, stilling his body, mind, breathing, and emotions, making room for his inner star to flare out. /Let There Be Light!/ Harry signed, somewhat dramatically.

There was no sound but for a moment it seemed that all the light around them pulsed towards him, then with a burst of sparks a glowing sphere the size of a gold ball appeared between his hands. It glowed faintly in the morning summer sunlight and flickered between blue and gold hues, slowly revolving and showering them with flecks of light.

The Dursleys squeaked in horror.

Harry glanced up at Snape. The man was frozen absolutely still, hardly breathing, eyes just fractionally wider than normal.

"Blimey, 'Arry. That's incredible, tha' is!" Hagrid said, leaning close.

Dudley snorted and gave Harry a small shove. /Move it along,/ he signed.

This time keeping his eyes on Snape, Harry wagged his fingers through signs for second, third, fourth, and fifth, conjuring as many additional mini stars.

/Rainbow./ They all took on varying colors.

/Dance!/ and they began to move in a complicated weaving pattern, complete with changes to their revolutions as well as rotations.

/Be sparks./ The mini stars burst into tiny supernovas that coalesced into hundreds of tiny sparks in shifting colors.

/Fade,/ and they did.

Dudley tapped on the table and pointed Harry to the tea set. Harry cocked his head at it for a moment. /Float./ It lifted three inches off the table. /Settle./ Down it went.

Then Dudley tapped Harry to get his attention again. /Big finish?/

Harry fidgeted. /Which one?/

/Last week./

/The Inn?/

/Yes/

"I hope you have a sense of humor in there somewhere, Mr. Snape," Harry said, as if he very much doubted it could be possible.

"Professor Snape, if you please," the man sneered.

Harry nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing, he closed his eyes and muttered under his breath for a moment before beginning to sign. At first Snape was confused at the content but soon realized it was a poem. And not just any poem…

/ There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes… /

After the first few signs golden lines of light began to flow from Harry's fingertips, forming pictures that melted into one another: a building on a hill, a man stepping out of the moon, a tankard filling with liquid, a cat with a fiddle… The pictures slowly got more detailed and animated as the poem continued, and soon Snape realized he could hear music! Faint, tantalizing, but just the sort of raucous, rhythmic tune that would turn the comical poem into a drinking song.

Slowly Snape's face split into a small smile, the most genuine the boys had seen yet, though his eyes looked somewhat…hungry.

Once the poem was ended, and the music and pictures both faded, Harry sat, giving him a nervous look. A glance at Hagrid showed the giant beaming with pride, but somehow Harry got the impression he was easily impressed, and that Snape, well, wasn't.

At length Snape inhaled sharply and snapped. "Impressive. Are all your magical outbursts so…dramatic? So controlled?"

Harry wilted just a tad. The man sounded almost accusatory. "Sorry, it doesn't really work well, without a bit of…um, drama, I guess? And I haven't…um…"

Dudley interrupted. /He jumped onto the school roof when we were five./

Harry flushed. He'd forgotten about that. Since he and Dudley became friends he tried not to think about what life had been like beforehand.

/One time,/ Dudley went on, /Dad couldn't get Harry's door to stay closed./ He, probably wisely, didn't mention it was the cupboard door. /Once Mom's keys appeared on the counter when she couldn't find them. Just out of nowhere! Once he healed Lisa's burn, and my ankle. And you can't cut his hair. It grows right back./

/Does it,/ Snape replied, giving Harry's hair a rather snide look. /That must be amusing./

/It is,/ Dudley sniggered. /But it doesn't really grow either. It's always just like that. Like, exactly. /

"Fascinating," Snape said drily.

By now, Harry was hunched about as small as he could get in the chair, looking guiltily up at Snape. "Sorry," he mouthed soundlessly.

"I have told you to address me as 'professor,' Mr. Potter. I will overlook it for today, seeing as it is the summer, and your birthday, and you have received a number of shocks—which should not have been surprising in the least," he ground the last out with a venomous glance towards the Dursleys. "However, I sincerely hope that when you are at Hogwarts you will remember your manners with more acuity than you have so far displayed. Clearly," he gestured to the space formerly occupied by Harry's light pictures, "your memory is not faulty.

"Now," he continued in a slightly different tone, "before you melt fully into your seat I will inform you that the episodes related by your cousin are classic and ubiquitous examples of underage accidental magic. Young majlings invariably perform such feats in the early years before magic can be consciously harnessed. None of that is worthy of apology. The feats you displayed here a few moments ago, on the other hand…are extraordinary," he said the last in a low soft voice, devoid of any trace of the sarcasm that had liberally laced his speech heretofore. "I confess I have neither seen, nor heard of an untrained majling having such control over their abilities."

Harry couldn't help but smile! "Thank you, professor," he said quietly. Snape merely nodded.

"I trust you have been discreet about these powers?" He glanced at the Dursley's again.

The boys shared a look and Snape tensed. /Our friends know, / Dudley signed.

"How many friends? Who?" Snape said tersely.

The boys shrugged. /Not sure,/ Harry signed. /Maybe a dozen? It's just kids and no one will tell. Who would believe them?/

/Harry does shows for us in the summer,/ Dudley signed proudly.

/Shows?/ Snape signed, giving Harry a distinctly unimpressed look.

Harry hunched over again, until Dudley elbowed him. /Don't be embarrassed, Harry!/ Again Snape flinched when Dudley made his name sign. /You're amazing!/ He turned back to Snape. /He only does it when we ask, and no grownups are looking./

Snape sniffed, hardly mollified.

"Well," he said, seeming to shift gears. ''Are you satisfied?" he asked Harry, apparently trusting Dudley to read his lips this time.

Harry looked at Dudley. /What do you think? Is it…is this real?/

Dudley gave Snape and Hagrid as piercing a look as an eleven-year-old, slightly pudgy, and not at all academically inclined boy can. /I think…they mean it. What's next?/

Harry breathed out a sigh. "Ok. For now, we'll trust it—"

"There is no 'we', Potter," Snape snapped. "While Mr. Dursley appears to be an admirable companion and supporter for you, and I am grateful for his input during this interlude—indeed, sincerely grateful—the fact remains that while you are a mage, he is most decidedly not. You are invited to Hogwarts, and you alone. Dudley cannot accompany you."

/But I can go with him for all this stuff!/ Dudley signed emphatically. He snatched several of Harry's letters, skimming quickly through them. /Shopping. I can do that! Bank. Healer, right? Can you do something for his eyes, do you think?/

Snape frowned, looking between the boys. "You want to come shopping with us, Mr. Dursley?"

"Can he?" Harry asked, torn between hope and doubt.

Snape shared a look with Hagrid, who shrugged his enormous shoulders. "He can't be the on'y muggle t'ave been in Gringotts or St. Mungos, Sev'rus. Muggleborns 'ave tae bring ther parents, don' they? Might be fun tae watch a muggle on Diagon Alley." He sniggered good naturedly.

Dudley gave Harry a firm look and then glared at Snape. /Harry goes nowhere without me./ Dudley signed firmly.

Snape ran calculating eyes over the boy. /So you have said. Very well. If Harry wishes you to come—/ Harry nodded emphatically, trying and failing to hide his relief. He was willing to suspend disbelief for now, and see the places promised, but doing so by himself with these two intimidating men was…too much. Not like Dudley could protect me from a giant and a wizard!

"Very well, gentlemen," Snape said, clapping his hands and rising. "Without further delay then—"

"Now hold on one blasted minute!" roared Vernon, finally taking one big step forward away from the planter.

Snape glanced at his wrist, waving his fingers over his sleeve to reveal a bank of four small watches, all completely black. "Well, well. So, it takes forty-six minutes and the threat of imminent removal of your offspring for you to break through a simple suppression hex?" he tsked.

"Hex!" shrieked Petunia, finding her voice at last.

"Well, I could hardly have this scintillating conversation with your ward with your constant, boorish interruptions. Now, if you don't mind—"

"YOU'LL FIND I DO MIND, YOU ARROGANT SOD," Vernon bellowed. "YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY SON! HE'S NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU, YOU FREAKISH POUFTER."

Snape snorted. "So unimaginative. Even Potter's dogfather was more creative in his insults."

Petunia, apparently also released from the spell rushed over to her son. "He's not going! You can't take him! He stays here with us!"

Dudley pushed his mother's arms away. /Mum! I want to go! I'm not letting Harry go alone./ Petunia followed his hands but then shook her head and barged on as if she didn't understand.

"No. I forbid it. You are to stay away from that…that freakisness! We won't have it! We tried to stamp it out of him, but then—Dudley. And he… well. But we won't have it! If he… if he—he can't go to that freak school! We refuse to send him!"

"AYE!" shouted Vernon. "HE'S NOT GOING, SEE?! We never wanted him but your lot left him to us, so it's our decision, and we say he's NOT GOING! We'll not pay for some crackpot old fool to teach him ma—TRICKS!" He turned malevolent eyes on Harry, though that may have been simply to escape the fiery ones of Snape.

Neither Snape nor Harry said anything, though Dudley was signing furiously and stamping his feet. But slowly a shadow rose over Vernon. He jerked his head around to see Hagrid, a very angry Hagrid, standing over him from quite close!

"Do not. Insult. Albus Dumbledore. In-Front-Of-Me."

Petunia squeaked in fright, clutching at Dudley and half cowering behind him. Hagrid flicked his eyes at her, then back to the blustering Vernon. In a blink he dropped a frilly pink umbrella out of his sleeve and banged the tip on the ground at Vernon's feet.

Thee was a bright flash and a loud Pouf! and Vernon was gone.

A frantic squeaking snort caused the boys to look down. There on the patio right where Vernon had stood, was a fat, round, blond, terrified hamster, looking up at them all and spinning in a tight circle to see what it had become—to no avail.

Snape let out a snort of wicked laughter. "Appropriate. Congratulations, Hagrid, I'd not thought your studies had progressed as far as human to animal transformations," he said in a chilly voice that was almost a threat with a very knowing look at the perpetrator.

The giant coughed. "Well, eh, thank yeh, Prof—eh, um, Sev'rus. I, eh, 'preciate the compliment." He looked between the two boys, suddenly uncomfortable. "If ye two'd be so good as to, eh, not mention that, eh?"

Snape snorted again. With a wave of his wand the hamster lifted into the air, twisting, kicking, and squealing frantically. Another flick had a wire cage forming atop the table and the protesting rodent was dropped right into it. Immediately the animal began nosing hurriedly around the corners and pawing at the bars.

"Now, boys," said Snape in an over-the-top lecturing tone that was not at all sincere. "It is very bad form to use transfiguration to solve your problems. In most cases it won't work, and once the transfiguration wears off you have merely increased the animosity between yourselves and your target. Furthermore, magic against muggles is, in most cases, severely frowned upon.

"That said," and now his voice and manner shifted to the sarcastic malevolence he'd used throughout the morning. "Petunia, and Vernon, both of you listen well because you will only hear this once. When you agreed to take Mr. Potter in you took on the responsibility of providing him a safe and loving home, which it seems you have totally failed to do. You did not, I repeat, NOT acquire rights to overrule the laws and customs of Magical Britain or the wishes of his late, widely esteemed parents. Therefore, it is not in your power to forbid him to attend Hogwarts. To Hogwarts he must and will go and nothing you say or do will change that—"

"Take him then!" Petunia cried in a small, shrill voice. "But don't bring him back. You hear me! Keep him. Much good he's ever done us! Food from our table! Doctor bills, and all—"

"For which you were generously reimbursed, were you not, Petunia. I know you received a stipend for his expenses. How much was it, exactly? Don't try to tell me these rags or those cheap glasses used a tenth of it. You, my dear Mrs. Dursley, have been stealing from the Potter Trust. Have you any notion what would happen to you were our newspapers, our lawyers, our goblins to hear of your malfeasance? Hmmm? This," he gestured to Vernon, now curled into a ball and quivering in terror, "you would beg for this. You would beg to spend the rest of your life like this as an alternative. You recall hearing of Azkaban, hmmm? You wouldn't last a fortnight. But I doubt the goblins would let you get so far."

"Now!" he straightened, dropping the menace—or most of it—from his voice and faced the boys, signing clearly this next speech (the fomer had not really needed it). "Under normal circumstances I am extremely loath to cross the wishes of a parent in regard to their progeny, even in the case of muggles. However, given that Mr. Potter, must come with me, at once, to see to his errands, so long as he and young Mr. Dursley are both consenting I see no warranted objection to Dudley joining us. Normally I would offer one of your parents to accompany use as well, Mr. Dursley, to allay their fears. However, given recent behavior I am loath to make that offer. Are you willing to accompany Mr. Potter, Hagrid, and myself without the presence of one of your parents?"

Dudley nodded readily.

"You can't! Dudley, no! I forbid it! If—if you take him, I'll—I'll call the police! I'll have you arrested for kidnapping!" Petunia clutched at Dudley from behind, nearly chocking him.

Snape laughed. "My dear woman, what on earth do you suppose the police can do to me? If I wished to, I could have taken Mr. Potter, or indeed, both boys, when we stood on your front drive. Quite frankly, you are incapable of stopping me from taking your son anywhere. You have no choice but to accept my word that I will only do so with his consent and that I will return him here safely once our business is concluded. Had you behaved in a more mature manner, I would have offered for you to accompany us. I recall that there was a time when seeing the magical world from the inside held quite the appeal for you, isn't that right?" He wound down with a sneer that was clearly twisting a blade in an old wound.

"But, no. I see clearly what the situation is. I don't know exactly what you meant by 'trying to stamp' the 'freakishness' 'out of' Mr. Potter, though I will definitely find out, but it is obvious that Dumbledore's brilliant designs for his safety in leaving him with you were for naught …" he leaned in close, staring into Petunia's eyes. "Your house has been more prison and torment than home, that much is clear. And now, he is your son's most loyal help, and your son has become his staunchest supporter. Why his father and his brutish friends were hardly so loyal after seven years at Hogwarts!"

He leaned in closer still. "But his mother was. That's where he gets it, Petunia. From his mother." He learned back sharply. "And you spat on her memory. No, depend upon it, Petunia. If your son wishes to come with me, he has earned that honor with his loyalty to Mr. Potter. And I promise I will return him, unharmed. If…" He grinned evilly. "If he wills it.

"Boys!" Snape called sharply, making Harry jump. "We are leaving. Now."

"No!" Petunia squealed, clutching Dudley tighter.

Snape held out an arm, clearly meaning them to take it. "Um," Harry began. "Do we need to bring anything? I don't have any money, or—"

Snape rolled his eyes. "All that will be taken care of. Let us be gone!"

/What about my dad?/ Dudley asked hurriedly.

With another eye roll, Snape glanced at the trembling rodent, who was nevertheless trying to climb the bars and squeeze through them (a woefully hopeless endeavor). "If he has not reverted to his previous form upon our return I shall restore them. Can we get on with this?" He shook the proffered arm.

'Thank you, Sev'rus," muttered Hagrid, getting to his feet and shuffling behind the professor, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Not sure I could do it, meself."

"Do doubt," Snape muttered in reply. "Mr. Potter. Now, if you would."

Harry stepped up and put a hand on Snape's dark clad arm. He was rather surprised to feel just how firm the arm underneath was.

They all looked at Dudley. He smiled encouragingly, nodding, and then he pinched his mother's hands and wrists, and elbowed her in the ribs just hard enough to loosen her grip so he could duck through her arms and around the table.

"No! Dudley!" she shrieked lunging forward, missing, and falling to her knees.

But he reached the wizards and slammed his chubby hand on top of Harry's slim one. Dudley gave his mother one last sad look before Hagrid wrapped his arms around them all, holding them close, and Snape twisted, pulled them with him through folded time and space and out of the Dursley's pristine back garden.