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Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling

2 - Vis in sanguine est

Unfortunately for Harry, Dudley resumed his hunting-Harry-down game and it took him by surprise one afternoon when he was leaving school. Harry wiped the blood flowing from his slit lip with his cuff. He could already feel his left eye swelling. Dudley would surely have hit him longer if Piers had not run away. Harry smiled as he remembered the scene, he had managed to do wandless magic. When Piers had held Harry's hands behind his back as Dudley hit him, Harry had remembered the first time he had held a wand. He had felt his magic, deep in his core running through his body. And he had felt it again, and so had Piers. Piers had screamed and let go of Harry before looking at his aching hands. Then he looked at Harry, who glared at him and Piers had fled. Dudley had stopped hitting Harry not understanding. But Harry had run away already.

Now Harry was in the bedroom in Milton End. He was looking for something to wear that would allow him to go unnoticed on Diagon Alley. He pulled out a brown cloak from the closet. It was way too large and partly eaten by the doxys, but it had a special pocket for storing a wand and another with an extension charm where Harry could make everything fit in. The boy used a spell to shorten the cloak.

"Midnight," called Harry. "You're coming with me."

The boy opened the extensible pocket and the cat that was curled up on the bed got up and jumped into it.

Harry had taken one of Dudley's old caps before leaving. The hat was black and too big and when Harry put it on his head it would completely hide his scar. He did not want to be recognized, even if the hood of his cloak slipped off. Once in Charring Cross Road, he stopped in a recess between two buildings, removed his coat, put it in his cloak pocket and put the cloak on.

Diagon Alley seemed as crowded as the first time he had been there, but this time the passers-by were walking more calmly, taking the time to look at the shop windows and the holiday decorations hanging all over the place. Harry would go read some books in Flourish and Blotts, but he wanted to go to Knockturn Alley first. Knockturn Alley was much less crowded and the only decorations he saw framing a shabby tavern entrance were old-fashioned and faded.

Harry was looking at a bookstore window when a gnarled and decrepit hand landed on his shoulder.

"Are you lost, boy?" asked the old woman.

"No, I know where I'm going," replied Harry, confidently.

"Did you come to buy?"

She smiled at him, revealing a toothless mouth, and gestured to the tray she was holding. Harry gazed the different organs soaking in jars.

"Or did you come to sell?" She continued. "You're young, I'd offer you a good price for your teeth, or your fingers."

"No, thanks," replied Harry, politely.

He knew full well that these organs could grow back with an adequate potion but he was not going to start selling them on the black market. He turned away and started to walk away when the witch caught him by his cloak.

"Leave him alone," said a voice behind them.

A man was standing in the entrance of a building. He was thin and pale and watched the scene in front of him with his red-iris eyes

"Mind your business, vampire, go back to your hole," she gnarled.

The witch tightened her grip on Harry.

"Or a lobe of your liver. What do you say?" She suggested.

"Still no," replied Harry, shaking his head.

"I'd very well take it without asking you."

"I'll have to refuse, again."

Harry was totally losing control over the situation. He needed to quickly find a solution before ending up in small pieces.

"Refuse? Do you think you can choose?" exclaimed the witch, bringing her hand to her wand.

"Midnight," called Harry and in an instant, the cat jumped out of his cloak pocket.

The witch pointed her wand at the animal and cursed it with astonishing dexterity. Midnight dodged easily. Then she threw a second curse that slipped on its fur.

"What's…?"

But she did not finish her sentence. Midnight threw itself to her neck and tore open her throat with his teeth. Blood spurted out and the hag fell to the ground with a gurgling sound. Harry froze. Well, he had meant for Midnight to get rid of the insistent witch when he had called it but it might have overreacted. Midnight was now eating the dead witch's face off.

"Enough," demanded Harry.

The cat stopped and glared at its surroundings with his dead eyes. Then he came rubbing its master's leg. The silence was thick in the Alley. The onlookers who had stopped to watch the exchange had hurriedly fled or gone back to their shops. There only remained Harry and the vampire. The boy took out the wand and levitated the witch. He managed to get her completely into his cloak pocket. The witch was old, but her organs were still powerful ingredients for Harry's future brewing. He was about to get going when he felt the vampire's eyes on him.

"It's been many years since I'd seen such a work of necromancy," he said to Harry as he took a step towards him.

The boy stared at him for a second but did not linger over his eyes. He had read and he knew that eye contact could allow some Legilimens to penetrate his mind. Harry did not want to take any chances at the moment.

"I'm Edward Whitley," said the vampire, bowing slightly. "Who are you, young necromancer?"

"I'm not telling you my name," replied Harry. "I am the Necromancer."

Harry knew full well that these situations would not happen again if he was not so small and did not look so puny. He was the smallest in his class and unlike Dudley, Harry was not allowed to have a second serving and was often sent to bed without dinner. He had found the proper ritual in Secrets of the Darkest Art. There was a quick way to regain his strength and gain some weight. All he needed was a healthy subject and he could not use Dudley. It would attract too much attention if one of his family members went missing.

An opportunity arose on a December afternoon. It was raining and it was already getting dark. Harry paced the woods that edged Lower Woodside in search of ingredients for his potions. He put the piece of lichen he had just taken off a tree trunk in his rucksack and put his bag on his shoulders. He used one hand to hold his raincoat hood and went back on the trail. By now he had not met any hiker and he was surprised to see a jogger a little further down the trail. The person was dressed in sports pants and a raincoat. Harry quickened his pace, skirting the edge of the path and tightening his grip on his hood. The man run passed him. Harry heard him running away and then, after a short moment of silence, running back. In a few strides, the man was at Harry's level.

"Hello," he said. "What are you doing here, alone in the rain?"

"Hello," said Harry, keeping on walking.

"You shouldn't wander alone in the woods. Do your parents know you're here?"

"Yes, and they're waiting for me," he lied. "Goodbye, sir."

Harry, who had not stopped walking, quickened his pace. The jogger kept himself near Harry easily.

"You really shouldn't go home alone. Come with me, I'll walk you home," said the man.

He grabbed Harry by the shoulder and made him stop.

"No, I'm going home alone," replied Harry, trying to get out of the way, which made his hood slide.

"It's dodgy here. Tell me where you live and I'll walk you home," insisted the man.

The jogger ran his hand through the boy's hair and Harry shivered.

"Come on, be a nice boy," the man went on.

Harry took his time to look at the man. He was in his mid-thirties with blond hair and looked fit. He should agree to go with him.

"All right," Harry conceded. "I live in Milton End but we have a door in the garden that leads directly to the woods. It's over there."

Harry pointed his finger in the woods general direction and off the trail. He had discovered this door last summer by harvesting plants for his potions. The door was entirely concealed behind some danewort.

"All right, let's go this way," said the man, taking Harry's hand. "What's your name ?"

"Harry," he replied as the jogger dragged him between the trees.

They walked for a few minutes. They were now too far from the trail to be seen or heard.

"It's over here," explained Harry.

"I'd rather we go this way," replied the man.

The jogger tightened his hold on Harry's hand and led him to the opposite direction. After a few steps, they stopped near a tree and the man came closer blocking Harry.

"Why did we stop?" asked the boy.

"You'll be a nice boy, won't you, Harry?" said the man, stroking Harry's face again.

The situation was clearly getting out of hand. Harry should have done something sooner but they were still far from the garden gate and Harry did not want to have to drag the unconscious man for too long.

"Drop your bag and take off your coat," continued the jogger. "Let me touch you."

Harry scoffed but he could not take two steps that the man caught up with him. However it did not matter, Harry had been able to grab the wand.

"Stupefy!" He shouted.

A red flash struck the man in the chest, throwing him in the air before he fell heavily to the ground. The strength of the spell was such that Harry staggered and caught himself against a tree. Harry hurriedly put the wand back in his pocket and glanced around waiting for someone to come alerted by the flash. But no one came. Harry let out a sigh of relief and then looked back at the man. He was unconscious. He took the wand out again, pointed it at the man and levitated him. Harry put his hood back on, grabbed the man's raincoat, and dragged the jogger behind him.

Harry touched the lock with the tip of the wand and the door opened with a click. He dragged the man to the laboratory and dropped him on the floor. Harry used his wand to light the candles.

"Who is he?" asked Enid, pointing at the man.

"A muggle, I met him in the woods and he wanted to touch me."

At that moment the man grunted and began to regain consciousness. Harry stupefied him again before undressing him and putting his belongings nearby. The boy took a book from the library and put it on the bench.

"What are you going to do?" asked Enid.

"Vis in sanguine," said Harry.

"You'd get a better result with a wizard, and a much better one with a creature."

"I know, but the muggle will have to do."

Harry used the wand to draw runes on the ground around the man. He pulled off his t-shirt and traced other runes on their torsos as he chanted the incantation. Then he used the dagger to drained the man's blood to a large bowl. He chanted the rest of the incantation, the runes ignited and he drank the blood. Harry got dressed. The runes on his chest, still bright, would fade only when he would fully absorb the man's force. From the man, there would remain only a heap of ashes that Harry could use in some future brewing.

Harry took the man's clothes and piled them in the garden. He opened the man's bumbag and pulled out two high-protein cereal bars that he pocketed. There was also a wallet from which he pulled out a little over one hundred pounds. He pocketed the money and threw the wallet on the pile. He used the wand to set it on fire.

Harry did not feel the effects of the ritual until the next morning. He was awakened early by the pain. All his bones ached and his muscles were painfully contracted. He turned on his mattress and moaned in pain. The house was silent and Harry thought it was better getting up now. As he straightened, his head violently hit the top of the cupboard. He went to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and noticed that he had grown up during the night and was now Dudley's height. His limbs had thickened and his muscles had developed. He no longer looked lean and puny. He finally had the stature of a healthy child.

Harry went down to the kitchen and began to cook breakfast. Of course, he dosed the tea with the potion. As he cooked the sausages, he heard his aunt coming down the stairs.

"Harry? Are you up already?" she called from the hallway.

"I'm in the kitchen. Hello Aunt Petunia, "he replied when she entered the room.

She froze in the doorway and stared wide-eyed at Harry. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. Her expression of surprise was replaced by one of fright.

"VERNON!" She shouted.

"Yes, Petunia?" replied his uncle's muffled voice from the first floor.

"Come quickly, it's Harry! VERNON !"

"What's the matter?" he asked as he entered the kitchen out of breath.

"It's Harry," she explained, pointing to the boy, an expression of disgust on her face. "He did it again."

"Boy! What..."

Uncle Vernon's words died on his lips when he finally noticed Harry who wondered if he should not have dosed last night dinner as well. He slid the sausages on a plate and faced his uncle. Harry pretended everything was normal and nothing had changed.

"Hello Uncle Vernon," he said, putting the food on the table.

"HARRY!" roared his uncle, his face turning crimson. "What have you done ?"

"I made breakfast," he answered mischievously. "Tea, toasts, sausages and ..."

"Don't act dumb," shouted his uncle, whose face turned purple. "I know you've done strange things again. Don't lie to us. We can clearly see that you grew up during the night."

Harry wanted to answer but it would be of no help. As long as they did not drink their tea, he could not put new ideas into their minds. At that moment, his uncle grabbed him by the t-shirt, dragged him out of the kitchen and pushed him into his cupboard before locking the door. He heard Dudley's footsteps coming down the stairs, the sound of chairs and finally the sound of cutlery. They were going to drink their tea and they would let Harry out, it was a matter of minutes.

"Uncle Vernon," called Harry.

"Silence, my boy," replied his uncle. "You're grounded."

"But I shouldn't be. It's a normal thing to grow up during the night, all children do that."

"Mmh ..."

"By the way, I'm getting a little too tall now to sleep in the closet," suggested Harry.

He had to wait until the early afternoon for his aunt to let him out. He heard bursts of voices coming from the living room.

"I don't want to," Dudley moaned. "It's my second bedroom, it's my stuff."

"We've already made up our mind," Uncle Vernon told him.

"No ... I want him to stay in the cupboard," whimpered Dudley.

"Harry," called his aunt dryly.

The boy faced her. She was still holding the cupboard door open.

"Take your stuff and hurry up," she ordered.

Harry complied and gathered all his belongings on the mattress and used the sheet to make a bundle.

"Follow me," she said curtly.

He followed her upstairs to Dudley's second bedroom. She opened the door and stepped aside.

"With your uncle, we decided you were too tall now to sleep in the cupboard," she explained. "You will sleep here but don't touch Dudley's stuff."

She looked at the boy one last time with repulsion and left. Harry stepped in and smiled. He loved all the things he could do with magic.

Harry kept a low profile and his uncle and aunt went back to ignoring him as usual. He went back to London several times. In the muggle area, he went to some fast-food restaurants where he could eat whatever he liked and then he visited Diagon Alley. What he preferred by far were the bookstores. He could spend hours reading and all subjects held his interest. Well, not exactly, he did not like reading books about him that described him as a hero, the Wizarding World saviour. But he devoured modern history books and every book that could help him understand this new world. He even gave a try to an overly boring law book. Unfortunately, Harry could not always go to Flourish and Blotts because the clerks had spotted him. So he explored the Alley and discovered other more modest bookstores established further away or in some hidden courtyards. He also explored Knockturn Alley with Midnight walking by his side. He met the vampire and sometimes stopped to talk to him.

Harry wondered how the Dursleys would react when an owl would fly through the kitchen window to drop a letter into Harry's hands at breakfast. But it was not how he received his letter on a sunny July morning. Like every day, he went to pick up the mail, when an unusual letter caught his attention. It was made of yellowed parchment and was addressed to Harry Potter in the smallest bedroom of 4 Privet Drive. Finally! Harry had been waiting for it for so long, and it had arrived. He could barely contain his mirth but the cutlery noises coming from the kitchen brought him back to reality. He pulled himself together, glanced furtively at the kitchen, and hid his letter in his pants. He returned to the table as normally as possible and gave the mail to his uncle. He forced himself to eat calmly. He had to wait for his uncle to leave, then once the table was cleared and the dishes were washed, he left. His first stop was Milton End.

"I received it!" exclaimed Harry.

He took out the letter from his pants and waved it in front of Enid with a big smile. He sat down in the armchair, opened the letter and got up. He could not stay still and he started pacing in the cramped living room. He began to read his letter aloud. When he had finished, he rushed into the laboratory and took a blank piece of parchment from a drawer. He wrote his answer, slipped it into his backpack with a few pounds and Dudley's old cap.

Harry entered Gringotts, rehearsing in his head what he was going to say to the goblin. He had discussed his strategy with Enid. He did not know if his parents had actually left money for him but the goblin did not need to know that. The boy came to the counters and cleared his throat.

"I'd like to access my vault," said Harry.

"Your key," demanded the goblin.

"I don't have it," he answered simply. "It was destroyed the night my parents died."

"What's your name ?"

"Harry Potter."

The boy took off his cap and showed the goblin his scar. The goblin stared at him for a moment, then took out a piece of parchment and wrote something down.

"Fine, please take a seat," he said pointing to a door next to the counter and the parchment flew away.

Harry put his cap on and headed for the door. On the other side was a room with several chairs and Harry sat in one of them. He did not have to wait long. A goblin came in and addressed him.

"Mr Potter?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the boy, getting up.

"Follow me."

Harry followed him to an office on the other side of the gallery. When the door closed behind him, he took his cap off.

"Have a seat," said the goblin, taking a seat himself behind the desk.

Harry complied and the goblin pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill.

"Well, Mr Potter, you asked for assistance from the department of lost keys. When did you lose it?"

"It was destroyed the night my parents died," said Harry.

"Why didn't you or your guardian come earlier?" asked the goblin writing down everything that was said.

"My aunt's a muggle," said Harry. "And I just got my Hogwarts letter today. I didn't need to access my vault before today."

The goblin nodded, wrote a few more words and gave the parchment to Harry.

"I'll need your signature here," he said, pointing to the bottom of the document.

But the goblin did not give Harry his quill. He took another one from a drawer. It was black and long. Harry knew what it was when the goblin did not give him any ink either. The boy began to trace the first letters of his name. When he had penned the last blood-red letter, his name glowed. The goblin grabbed the parchment and stood up.

"Wait a moment," said the goblin.

Was there really a vault for him in the bank or would he have to change the pounds he had slipped into his pocket into galleons? He could not stay still. He got up and paced the room. He waited for what seemed like hours while it was only ten minutes. The door finally opened and the goblin walked in. He faced Harry holding a small golden object in his hand.

"Here it is, Mr Potter," he said, handing him his key. "Don't lose it. The making costs of your new key have already been taken from your vault."

Harry let out a sigh of relief and took the key.

"How much money is there? Can I access it?" he asked hurriedly.

"You have to go to the counters for that," replied the goblin, opening the office door and motioning for him to go out.

"Oh ... yes, sure," Harry said once in the gallery. "Thank you very much, Master Goblin."

The boy bowed.

"Good day, Mr Potter," said the goblin, bowing back to Harry.

Harry had only made a few steps towards the counters when a man approached him.

"Did I hear right? Mr Potter? Harry Potter?" he asked and his eyes fell on his forehead.

Harry then realized that in his excitement he had not put his cap on.

"It's an honour," continued the man.

He removed his pointed hat and shook Harry's hand vigorously.

"Uh ...," Harry hesitated.

"Rhys Jones," said the man. "I wanted to thank you for what you did. You saved us all. Especially when I think about my cousin Lewis. He was an Auror. They came to kill him and his wife and children. It was in 1979 ... terrible night ... But you freed us from Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I can't find the words to tell you how grateful I am."

This conversation was starting to make Harry uncomfortable. He thrust his cap on his head and decided to end the discussion.

"Nice to meet you Mr Jones, but I have to go," he said pointing to the counters.

"Oh yes, of course. Goodbye Mr Potter."

Once outside the bank, Harry gazed at the street before him. He had never thought he would ever have so much money. And yet, his vault was filled with gold and the boy had put big fistfuls of it in his backpack. Harry was finally able to buy things that would really be his. He had to find an owl to send his answer to Hogwarts but the very first thing he wanted to buy was his wand. He made his way to Ollivanders' wand shop, but found it crowded and several people were already waiting outside. He went on his way to another wandmaker he had discovered during his past explorations of the Alley.

A bell jingled when Harry pushed the door open. Harry walked into what was not really a shop but rather a workshop. Several work tables were in the centre of the room and shelves stood along the walls. The shelves supported pieces of wood of all kinds and other elements that made the wand core. A young man was sitting at one of the tables. He worked on the handle of a wand with a small tool.

"Hello," said Harry.

The young man answered softly, all his attention on the wand he had in his hands. He finally raised his head and looked at Harry.

"May I help you ?" He asked.

"I'd like to buy a wand," replied Harry.

"First wand?"

"Yes."

"Master Bromley," the young man called. "There's a customer for you."

He resumed his work and a grumpy looking man entered through a door at the back of the workshop. He was older and had a pepper-and-salt beard.

"First wand, huh? We don't make a lot of these," he says. "This way."

Harry followed the man to one of the tables. The wandmaker pulled out a measuring tape and it started to take Harry's measurements alone.

"You'll have to take off the hat," said Bromley, placing different pieces of wood on the table.

The boy complied and the tape took the measurements of his head. Bromley looked up and froze as his gaze landed on Harry's forehead.

"Merlin's beard!" he exclaimed. "You're Harry Potter!"

"Yes, I am."

"Harry Potter in my workshop! It will be a great honour for me to make your wand, Mr Potter, "the craftsman replied solemnly.

Harry did not know what to say, but Bromley brought him to the table. The boy ran his hand over the pieces of wood until he found the one that best matched his magic. He then did the same with the element that would make the core of the wand. When it was done Bromley spoke again:

"Your wand will be ready in an hour Mr Potter."

Harry was back in Diagon Alley. He headed towards the post office when he stopped to think things over. Wouldn't it be more practical to have his own owl? Especially if he wanted to receive his mail when he was in Milton End? He knew that the house being unplotable, the owls that had not already been there could not find it. And then it would be much easier than always having to go to the post office to send a letter. Harry turned around and entered Eeylops Owl Emporium. He took his time to study the different owl species available. Finally, he left the pet shop with a tawny owl. "Some say they are very common but they fly easily over Great-Britain and they can reach the continent without a problem. I dare say it's a good choice for a first owl" had said the clerk.

"I'll call you Nyx," Harry told his owl, pulling her out of her cage.

The owl hooted in approval and Harry handed her his answer for Hogwarts. She took it in her beak.

"Bring that to Hogwarts," he said. "Then come meet me in Privet Drive. But wait for me outside, I don't want the Dursleys to see you."

The owl hooted and took off.

Harry had some time left before he had to go back to get his wand. He pulled out his list and decided to start with his new wizarding robes. He entered Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. All the employees were already busy with other customers. Harry walked around the shop checking the clothes on display while waiting for his turn.

"It's your turn," said the saleswoman finally.

The young woman motioned for him to follow her and Harry climbed onto a stool in front of a large mirror.

"First-year?" she asked, making him try a black robe.

"Yes," replied Harry.

Harry watched the customers around him as the woman adjusted the garment. There was another boy on the nearby stool. He looked sixteen or seventeen and was dressed in a black Hogwarts robe trimmed with yellow. He was chatting cheerfully with a boy and a girl and they did not notice Harry. Harry had to remove his cap to try his pointed hat on and although the clerk had noticed his scar, she did not say anything.

"That's it," said the saleswoman. "I'll get your clothes so you can check them out."

"I'd like to have some other robes made," explained Harry.

And he pointed the items he wanted out to the woman. He chose a mid-season set of robes and a winter one, and a dark brown hooded cloak.

"And I'd like a charm on the hood to keep it from slipping, and also an extension charm for the pocket," he added.

"Okay, but it will take some time. It'll be ready in the afternoon," she explained.

"No problem."

Time was up, and Harry showed up again at Master Bromley's workshop. This time the apprentice did not take his eyes off him when he came in and his eyes were full of fascination which made Harry uncomfortable again.

"Here you are, Mr Potter," said the craftsman, putting a narrow box in front of Harry.

The boy opened it and pulled out the wand. He grabbed it and gave it a swift movement. He felt his magic rise in him, and when it reached his wand, it ran smoothly through it. A spray of every coloured sparks came out of the wand tip.

"Twenty-eight centimetres, blackthorn and thestral hair," said the craftsman with pride. "Very powerful combination, perfect for a hero like you."

"Wonderful," exclaimed Harry with a big smile.

He gave the appropriate amount of gold to the wandmaker and left the workshop to go to Petterson's Magical Leather Goods. He wanted to get a holster to carry his wand. He had read about the importance of holsters in the preface to The Art of Dueling. The shop offered a wide variety of models. Harry chose a versatile holster charmed to be invisible to muggles and that would carry his wand to his belt, arm, or leg. He also bought a new backpack to go to class, a purse to put away his gold and a trunk. He chose the top model with multiple compartments and a secret one that could only be opened by him.

Harry heard his stomach growl and took a quick lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, followed by a large ice cream from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. He then went to Flourish and Blotts where he bought many books in addition to those listed by the school. He had to stop himself when the stack of books he had in his arms prevented him from seeing where he was going. He put everything in his trunk. He also put in the rest of his day's shopping which consisted of a telescope, all his new potion equipment, as well as some quills, parchments, and various notebooks and coloured inks which seemed to be useful for his studies. Then he went back to Madam Malkin's to collect his order and then called the Knight Bus with a flick of his wand.

Harry rode the Knight Bus the following morning to go back to London. He had not had time to go to the apothecary the day before and he had some errands to run in Knockturn Alley. He had pocketed Midnight in his new cloak and pulled the cat out when they arrived. Harry went to the apothecary first. He bought more ingredients than he was asked for on his list. Then he went to Darkley's Books and Manuscripts. There was only one other customer in the bookstore. The man whore black robes and had black and greasy hair that fell on his shoulders. He was flipping through a book in the potions section of the bookstore. He moved away sharply when he saw Midnight, then he watched Harry closely. He could not see his face in the shadow, hidden under his hood. Harry stared at him for a moment before turning his attention to the books on the shelves. He left the bookstore with an Occlumency textbook that offered much more explanation about its implementation than the book he had found in Milton End and a set of books on curses, written by a former Durmstrang professor. The night before he had noticed that his new wand did not allow him to open the gate. He thought he could find a book about wards in the bookstore that could help him, but he did not. He would have to look at Charles Akenham's notes for a solution to this problem.

He arrived at Little Whinging in the afternoon and was greeted by a hoot. His owl joined him and came to rest on his shoulder. Harry removed the envelope from her beak and slipped it into his pocket.

"I'll show you a place where you can bring me my mail when I'm not at Hogwarts," he said.

He brought Nyx into the house of Milton End and the owl perched in her open cage.

"I received an answer," he informed Enid, opening the letter.

Dear Mr Potter,

We inform you that we have received your owl. Please find attached to this letter your ticket. You will need it to board the Hogwarts Express.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Harry spent the rest of the summer reading his textbooks and practising with his wand. All the spells seemed much easier to him now that he had a wand that did not resist him. It was late August when Harry thought it might be time to tell the Dursleys that he would be going to Hogwarts in a few days and not to the local public secondary school. He had put the last dose of Radices cogitatus agere he had left in the tea and put the food on the table when the Dursleys entered the kitchen. Harry waited for his uncle to take the first sip of his tea to speak.

"I wanted to tell you, I'm leaving in two days and I'll come back next June."

"Mmh ...?" said Uncle Vernon.

"I was accepted into a school called Hogwarts, it's a boarding school, that's why I'll be gone for the whole school year."

His uncle's mumbling approval was covered by his aunt's squeak. She clapped her hands on her mouth. She stared at Harry with a look of horror. The boy then realized that he had spoken too early and that his aunt had not yet drunk her tea.

"How do you know about Hogwarts?" she asked in a breath.

"You knew!" replied Harry, standing up. "I was wondering if you knew about my mother being a witch, but apparently you know a lot more."

"Of course I knew for my sister. Our parents were so proud when she received this damn letter, so proud to have a witch in the family. But I saw her as she really was, she was a monster. And you, of course, you are like her and like your father, an abnormal and defected monster."

Dudley had frozen, he was watching the scene in front of him, his spoon full of cereals was a few inches away from his wide opened mouth.

"You're not going," exclaimed Petunia in a shrill voice. "With Vernon, we promised ourselves that we would end all of it, wouldn't we, Vernon?"

"I'm sure Uncle Vernon agrees that I'd go," said Harry.

"You can go," answered Vernon.

"What did you say?" asked Petunia wide-eyed.

She stared at her husband then looked back at Harry. A glimmer of terror crossed her face as she understood what had happened.

"Harry, what have you done to him? I know you did something to him!" She screamed.

"Just a bit of magic, I'm a wizard after all," replied Harry.

"But why did you do that to him?" She asked.

"Because I can," he says simply. "And because it's easier this way."