-Chapter Two-
In August Company
"I'm sorry," Aunt Petunia said, "I'm rather busy at the..." As her voice cut off abruptly, Harry's breath caught in his throat. The penny had dropped; he remembered where he'd heard that name before. It was the same as the one on the letter. Apparently, the M must stand for Minerva. He realised that he had expected a man, but that thought was quickly followed with him questioning why he should think that. His musings were cut short as Aunt Petunia began to reply once more, her voice not as clipped and crisp as before. "Of course, follow me to the sitting room."
As the two women moved into another room, the front door clicking closed a few seconds after they had entered, Harry regretted that he could no longer hear what was sure to be a fascinating conversation. He was sorely tempted to leave the cupboard and listen in, but he knew that his aunt would be furious if he was out and about while visitors were around. Besides, the cupboard door was still locked and there was no point in giving away the secret exit in the stairs. Sighing, he reopened the fake wall and retrieved the letter from where it had fallen down the back of the shelf.
The torch bulb flickered into life, protesting as Harry pressed the old button firmly to turn it on. He winced as he pulled out the pages of the letter and saw the edges crumpled by being roughly stuffed back into the envelope. Scanning down the paragraphs of green ink, he quickly found the last sentences. 'Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.' Of course. He hadn't sent an owl by his birthday, but until this morning the owl could still be on its way. But why owls?
"There's nobody here by that name!" Aunt Petunia's shrill voice said from across the sitting room. "Vernon, Dudley and I; We are the Dursleys. We've never heard of the name Potter, now I must insist that you leave." Harry's forehead creased in thought. Perhaps he really should make himself known. His only chance was rapidly dwindling. He paused with his hand on the wooden latch as he heard the visitor's voice, similarly raised.
"If that is the case, Mrs Dursley, then who is under your stairs?" Eyes wide, Harry scrambled back from the underside of the stairs and fumbled with the fake wall. He had just managed to close it and pull his blanket over him, eyes closed in a semblance of sleep, when the lock clicked and the door swung open. Starting, Harry's eyes snapped open to see who had opened the door. He shrunk back from the light, sharp against the comforting darkness of the cupboard.
His eyes adjusted to see both women still standing in the sitting room, the door opposite the entrance to his cupboard. Aunt Petunia was looking at him in horror while a stern-looking woman in a business suit was pointing a stick in his direction and scowling at his aunt. He blinked, not daring to move while his aunt opened and closed her mouth like a fish, making no noise. Eventually, her shoulders slumped. The lady who must have been Minerva strode towards Harry.
"Come along, Mr Potter. I'll explain everything on the way." Harry jumped at the chance and nearly banged his head in his eagerness to get out of the house. Minerva guided him to the front door by his shoulders.
"He's not coming back," Aunt Petunia called from the sitting room. Harry winced from Minerva's hand digging into his shoulder before she growled, spun back around and marched back to the sitting room door.
"Mark my words, Mrs Dursley," Minerva said, spitting Aunt Petunia's name with venom, "I will most certainly be coming back. I will do everything in my power to protect Mr Potter from the likes of you." She ended this by pointing a trembling finger into the sitting room. "Grab your coat, Mr Potter," she said as she turned back to Harry.
"I- I don't have a coat," he replied quietly.
"Hm. What about this?" Minerva frowned and ducked into the cupboard under the stairs. She emerged with a lightweight, black coat and moved to wrap it around his shoulders.
"That's not mine," he said. In fact, he couldn't recall ever having seen it before.
"Never mind. Come along now." Minerva helped him get his arms through the correct holes and led him through the front door which opened before them. Harry barely registered the cool breeze and cloudless sky that promised a day of excellent weather before he was at the end of the driveway and turning to walk down Privet Drive. The further they walked, the more hope filled his heart, but with that hope came a fear. He didn't want to spoil the moment. He was afraid that asking a question might, rather than earn him a punishment as it did with the Dursleys, break the spell and end their escape. Nevertheless, he steeled himself as his curiosity won over his apprehension.
#
"What's going on?" he asked as they approached the sign at the end of the road, which named the monotonous stretch of tarmac. Minerva stopped, but didn't turn to look at Harry. She let out a deep breath and some of the rigidity flowed out of her posture.
"I'm sorry, Mr Potter. I had better explain everything. Is there somewhere nearby where we can sit and talk?" She turned her head down to face him with a weary smile. He thought back to the times he had been allowed out, remembering where Dudley and his gang tended to hang out. It would be safe until at least lunchtime, and probably even longer now that he had an adult with him.
"There's a park this way," Harry said and tugged on Minerva's sleeve. He led her along Wisteria Walk and through the tunnel that burrowed under the busy main road, seeming to ignore the woman's admonitions and requests to slow down. Harry plonked himself onto one of the benches that were dotted around the edge of the park - the one closest to the swings - and Minerva gracefully lowered herself to sit next to him as he shuffled back. He swung his legs over the edge of the bench, feet just brushing the ground, as he waited patiently for her to talk.
"Mr Potter, my name is Professor McGonagall and I'm one of the teachers at Hogwarts. What do you know about Hogwarts so far?" Harry looked at her blankly. She furrowed her brow in return. "What about your parents?" Harry's face fell.
"They died in a car crash," Harry said in a quiet voice, dropping his gaze to the ground. He flinched as he heard a sharp intake of breath. As it was slowly let out, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder.
"No, Harry," Professor McGonagall said softly. "Did your aunt and uncle tell you that?" Harry nodded, keeping his eyes fixed unseeingly upon the concrete. "I'm afraid everything they've told you will be wrong. Let me start from the beginning. Your parents were nothing like your aunt and uncle, and a good thing too. I was honoured to count them as friends, particularly your mother. But more than being nice people, they were magic. Your mum was a witch and your dad was a wizard. They were both very clever."
"Hang on," said Harry, interrupting. "If mum and dad were magic, does that mean I'm magic too?" He looked up at Professor McGonagall, eyes shining brightly.
"Yes indeed, Harry. You're a wizard. I must say, I'm impressed at your reaction. Most people I've had to visit have wanted me to cast a few spells as proof."
"It doesn't surprise me as much as I thought it would," he admitted. "It would explain some of the strange things that have happened. That had been bugging me for a while now." The professor's eyebrows shot up. The boy sounded very mature for an eleven-year-old. He reasoned very well. "I wouldn't mind seeing some spells, though."
Professor McGonagall smiled. Now there's the boy I was hoping to meet. She pulled out her wand and waved it in a circle around the two of them before showing Harry the wonders of their world. He would never forget that first display of magic. Somehow, she created a bright, silver cat which sat between them, licking its paws. He revelled in the feeling of warmth, comfort and happiness that enveloped him, even as the cat raised one of its back paws high into the air to have a proper wash. It was a heady feeling, completely unfamiliar. The professor then picked a loose chip of concrete from the ground and tapped it with the end of her wand. He felt a sort of rush somewhere behind his ears as the rock slowly changed into a sparkling, golden bird. Professor McGonagall shook it. Half expecting the tinkling of a bell, Harry's jaw dropped as he heard the tweeting of the little bird, singing its heart out.
#
The bird remained clutched in Harry's fist as Professor McGonagall accompanied him on a train into London and eventually to a spot just in front of a grubby little pub called the Leaky Cauldron. As they stood outside briefly, Harry listened to the detailed instructions regarding how he could return in future via the many different methods of public transport. Meanwhile, he was also observing the passers-by. The book shop and record store flanking the tiny pub drew the gaze of the men and women walking past, but curiously the pub itself was ignored to the point that even Harry was tempted to doubt its existence.
"Other people can't see it, can they?" Harry asked.
"Well spotted," Professor McGonagall praised. "Only magical people will be able to see the building. Muggles are... encouraged to not see it. It helps protect us all. Imagine what might happen if magic was discovered by Muggles; people discovering something powerful that they will never be able to use. You have to keep the secret too, now, Harry. Never perform any magic in front of a Muggle."
"No, ma'am," Harry said. He deduced that 'Muggle' was probably a term for people who couldn't perform magic and filed that knowledge away. It wouldn't do to seem ignorant, even if the professor had needed to do the same for other magical children. She studied his face intently, as though looking for something, then patted his shoulder. Harry made a further deduction that this meant 'let's go' and stepped towards the grime-encrusted door.
Gloom pervaded the interior of the Leaky Cauldron and one golden shaft of light pierced through the centre of the taproom. The light wobbled as heavy smoke billowed through it and twinkling motes of dust glittered as they drifted across. Thankfully, the pall of smoke was above head height, else Harry was sure he would be coughing up at least one lung and drawing attention to the pair. From the way the professor led him through the shadows at the edge of the room, he could tell that this would have been less than desirable.
"We will be entering Diagon Alley now, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said, looking at Harry wrinkling his nose at the smell of the rear courtyard. "I apologise for hurrying you through the Leaky Cauldron, but I don't think you'd want the hassle of everyone coming up to see you. I'm afraid you're very well known in our world. I'll tell you all about it after we've got our school things, yes, Mr Potter?" Harry nodded, then furrowed his brow.
"How will I be able to buy all my school things?" he asked. "Aunt Petunia wouldn't have given you any money." The professor crouched down to look Harry in the eye.
"You needn't worry about that, Mr Potter. Your parents left you plenty of money in Gringotts. That's our bank. We'll go there first so that we have enough money to buy what we need, and perhaps a few things we don't. Now, pay careful attention to how I open the entrance to the alley. You'll need to remember this." Professor McGonagall pulled out her wand and held it in front of one of the bricks in the wall, pausing. "See how this brick has a hat on it?" Harry squinted and tilted his head.
"Oh yeah, like a witch's hat!" Harry exclaimed, finally seeing the shape of a faintly darker area. He was impressed. He wouldn't have seen it had he not been looking for it. Professor McGonagall looked at him, the corners of her mouth twitching upward, as Harry suddenly blushed. Well of course it would be a witch's hat.
A tiny hole appeared in the brick tapped by Professor McGonagall's wand, right at the tip of the hat. The hole quickly and smoothly expanded throughout the brickwork revealing a world of colour and sound in the blink of an eye. Harry didn't even notice the delicate swans atop two twisting pillars, flanking the entrance, as it hit him. Every sense was battered and it took a few seconds standing and swaying at the entrance to get used to it. By the time he was able to focus on which sense he wanted to pay attention to, he saw Professor McGonagall standing before him in long, emerald green robes, offering to take his hand and guide him further into the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. He saw the invitation into the wizarding world - into his parents' world - and stepped forward to take the professor's hand.
#
Professor McGonagall stopped every few steps to accommodate Harry being dazzled by yet another display of sorcery or distracted by an odd curio. She bore this with kind patience, smiling and nodding at the boy's gushing exclamations. Not a single shop escaped his notice on the way to the gleaming marble bank, whether it was the apothecary with its racks and jars of ingredients or the post office with owls bound for various domestic and international destinations as frequently as half-hourly for the Ministry of Magic.
The professor took his arm and Harry realised that he ought to be sensible within the bank. As the two entered the shade offered by the roof overhang, the armoured goblin bowed. Harry nodded back politely. He could do sensible. Professor McGonagall's warning was backed up by the words on the inner doors of the bank. The goblins were clearly not to be messed with and he certainly wouldn't want them thinking he was going to steal anything. Professor McGonagall pushed the inner doors open to reveal the opulent main hall of the bank.
Barring their way was a further line of goblins, scowling menacingly at all who entered. They joined the end of a short queue who were slowly being allowed forward. A goblin in a sharp suit methodically ran a plain, gold rod across each person, waving them through when satisfied. Harry smirked when one wizard's mutterings of disgust earned him a few jabs of the rod in uncomfortable places. He was sure the suited goblin gave him a wink in return.
Thanking the goblins for letting them pass, Harry rejoined Professor McGonagall and they proceeded to another goblin perched high behind a tall desk, measuring the weight of a small, silver figurine. As the goblin looked at the result with a tilted head, it reached out and licked the figurine.
"Excuse me," Professor McGonagall said. "We would like to access Mr Potter's vault." The goblin exchanged the figurine for a quill and scratched some marks into a giant ledger.
"Does Mr Potter have his key?" the goblin asked.
"I've been holding onto it for him," Professor McGonagall explained as she fished out a tiny golden key from her pocket.
"Very well. Please take a seat over there, Mr Potter. Your account manager will be with you shortly. He is currently assisting another family within the vaults." Harry and the professor thanked the goblin for its guidance and walked towards the line of ornate chairs at the back of the hall. Around the chairs were doors leading deeper into the bank and Harry watched as families were guided in and out by various goblins.
As the pair approached the chairs, Professor McGonagall recognised someone who was being led out of a door. The woman looked even sterner than the professor and was pulling a fur-lined coat closer around her. The most striking aspect of her clothing, however, was her hat which threatened to come off her head as it brushed the top of the doorway. For some reason, it had a stuffed bird attached to it. It looked like some kind of crow or eagle.
"Augusta," Professor McGonagall greeted. The two stern women exchanged what Harry presumed was supposed to be a kiss on each cheek, but which seemed to be a kiss in the air while they bumped cheeks. Noticing a round-faced boy standing quietly behind Augusta, Harry smiled and waved at him. The boy attempted a smile and his hand twitched slightly.
"Ah, Minerva. A pleasure. I take it you're here on Hogwarts business. Who do you have today?" Augusta peered down at Harry and he saw her eyes widen as they flickered up to his forehead.
"Yes, it's Harry, Alice's godson," the professor replied, jumping in before Augusta continued.
"Marvellous," Augusta said, beaming. She turned slightly. Harry followed her gaze to a goblin who was standing unobtrusively next to the four customers. He hadn't even noticed it there. "Thank you for your services, Griphook. I wouldn't wish to keep you from your duties." The goblin bared his teeth at the dismissal, but otherwise appeared unfazed.
"I thank you for your concern, Madam Longbottom, but as luck would have it Mr Potter is my next client," Griphook said.
"Very well," Augusta said, eyebrows raised. "It seems we share an account manager. You're in good hands. I won't keep you any longer. Best of luck at Hogwarts, Mr Potter."
"Thank you, Mrs Longbottom," Harry said, reaching up to shake Augusta's hand. The lady shook it with an approving nod of her head. Harry missed the sparkling of her eyes as he pulled his gaze down to the boy beside her. "See you at Hogwarts, Mr Longbottom." Halfway through his farewell, Harry had realised that he hadn't heard the boy's name mentioned and opted for the least awkward approach. The Longbottom boy shook hands with Harry, whispering something that sounded like him looking forward to it. Harry smiled encouragingly, glad to already have a potential friend.
