"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
"Can you teach me?", blurted out Harry, looking at the giant with awe. They were alone. His relatives had fled upstairs after the incident.
"What?", said the giant, clearly taken aback.
Harry was still grinning from ear to ear, reviewing the memory of Uncle Vernon's pig tail within his mind over and over again. Rubeus Hagrid, on the other hand, seemed to regret his outburst. He was stroking his beard thoughtfully and looked rather abashed.
"Giving people animal body parts?", clarified Harry, thinking of all the possibilities. "And can I get my own umbrella?", he asked, excited. Harry was still a little surprised at the umbrella. However, he had to admit that the idea was rather genius – with a touch of Mary Poppins. A wand would be too noticeable, but nobody would take a closer look at an umbrella. It was no wonder that the magical world had been kept a secret for this long.
"Listen, Harry", said Mr Hagrid. "I can' teach yeh. I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts, not a teacher. Actually...I ain' even supposed ter do magic. Yeh see...got expelled in me third year. Dumbledore let me stay at Hogwarts as groundskeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."
The giant gave Harry a smile.
"Look at yeh, Harry. All grown up. Las' time I saw yeh, yeh were so small, yeh fitted inter my hand", he chuckled. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes. They were good people, Harry", he sighted. "Don' listen ter the Muggles. They don' know what they're talkin' abou'."
"You knew my parents, Mr Hagrid?", asked Harry hopefully. He hardly knew anything about them. His relatives had only told him that they had died in a car crash, which was obviously a lie. He had also heard a few nasty rumours about them, which were circling around the neighbourhood.
"Call me Hagrid. Everyone does. And yeah, I knew yer parents. Was friends with 'em. Fought with 'em in the war. Yeh couldn' find nicer or braver people, Harry."
"What war? You said they died as heroes. What happened?", inquired Harry, his mind overflowing with questions and eager for answers.
"Yeh don't know?", said Hagrid, shocked . "O' course yeh don'. They've never told yeh anything, have they? Blasted Muggles!"
"Muggles?"
"People without magic..like yer relatives", explained Hagrid. "I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh, Harry. Besides, we really should get goin'. Get dressed an' we'll be off. Lots ter do today."
Harry grumbled, but let the matter drop for the time being.
"And, Harry?", added Hagrid nervously. "I shouldn'ta given yer uncle a pig tail. Would be grateful if yeh don' mention this little incident ter anyone."
Harry couldn't help but feel disappointed. No flying broomsticks or magical carpets. No teleporting and no eagles. They took the train to London. It was still fun, however. Harry was amazed at Hagrid's reaction to the most ordinary things. However, he had to admit he was not much better in regards to the magical world. He had been aware of the existence of magic for quite some time and he had read dozens of fantasy book. The real thing, however, was still mind-blowing. Harry put the train ride to good use and asked Hagrid dozens of questions. His thirst for information was insatiable. Harry wanted to know everything about magical transportation, so Hagrid told him about Portkeys, Apparition and the Floo network.
"And there's also the Knight Bus", continued Hagrid. "Jus' raise yer wand on the side o' the street an' it'll pick yeh up. Pretty convenient."
"Why didn't we use the Night Bus today?"
"Ride's pretty rough. I on'y use it when I really need ter", answered Hagrid.
If a guy like Hagrid doesn't like traveling by Night Bus, it has to be pretty bad.
"So, what exactly is your job at Hogwarts, Hagrid?", asked Harry. "I mean...what does the Keeper of Keys and Grounds do?"
"Lookin' after the keys an' grounds, o' course", explained Hagrid proudly. "Makin' sure everything is safe an' taken care o'. The gardens, the forest an' all the magical creatures on the grounds."
"What kind of magical creatures?", asked Harry eagerly.
"All sorts of", said Hagrid, his eyes shining with wonder. This was obviously a topic he liked to talk about. Hagrid was delighted to share his knowledge on all the misunderstood creatures, which were feared by wizards and witches for one reason or another. Harry had to admit the idea of having a pet dragon wasn't unappealing. He was also rather disappointed that he had to wait until his third year to choose Care of Magical Creatures, a subject, which was taught by Professor Kettleburn. Hagrid was helping him out from time to time.
"You really know a lot about magical creatures, Hagrid", complimented Harry, smiling at the giant.
"I ain' a professor, Harry, but I've got lots o' experience with 'em", he beamed.
"Would you mind me visiting you in Hogwarts?", asked Harry. "I want to learn as much as possible about magical creatures. And I can't wait for another two years."
"Sure, Harry", smiled Hagrid. "Drop by. I'll have tea an' cake ready."
Harry really enjoyed talking to Hagrid and he hated to spoil the mood. However, there was still one question, burning at the back of his mind. He just had to ask.
"Hagrid, would you mind telling me what happened to my parents?", asked Harry hesitantly.
"Harry, I don' know...maybe someone else should explain everything ter yeh", said Hagrid anxiously.
"I have to know, Hagrid", pleaded Harry. "I have to know the truth. My relatives always told me my parents died in a car crash."
"Car crash?", growled Hagrid loudly, jumping up from his seat on the underground. "How could a car crash kill James an' Lily? This is an outrage!", he bellowed, attracting attention from the rest of the passengers.
"Sorry", he chuckled awkwardly and sat back down. "Yer right. Yeh can' go ter Hogwarts without knowing", he sighted. "I'll tell yeh, but not here. Somewhere more private."
Harry could feel it as soon as they left the underground. Magic was thrumming in the air. Something big lay hidden between the buildings, distorting the space around it. Diagon Alley was near. Harry was able to pick out its entrance from afar. It was a dingy, old pub, which seemed rather out of place in Charing Cross Road and tried very hard to stay unnoticed. Hagrid entered the pub, with Harry close behind. The giant had described the Leaky Cauldron as a gateway between the mundane and the magical world. However, the palpable difference caught Harry off guard. This place was soaked in magic. The pub looked dark and shabby, but it was strong and ageless. Harry could swear it was somehow alive, with its own voice, consisting of more than the creaking and moaning of an old building. He could make out the shapes of several people in the darkness, who stopped talking when they entered. They seemed to know Hagrid rather well since they began smiling and waving at him. An old, bald barkeeper lifted a Hagrid-sized glass and called out,
"The usual, Hagrid?"
"Can', Tom. I'm on official Hogwarts business", said Hagrid, giving Harry a small pat on the shoulder, which caused Harry's knees to give away and him to stumble forward, drawing the barkeeper's attention to himself.
"Good Lord", exclaimed Tom. "Is this – can this be?"
The pub grew eerily quiet.
"Bless my soul", he whispered. "Harry Potter...what an honour."
Tom rushed from behind the bar and grabbed Harry's hand.
"Welcome back, Mr Potter, welcome back", he said, with tears in his eyes.
Then all hell broke loose. What in the name of zarking fardwarks is happening?
Harry didn't know what hit him. Tom had started an uproar. Everyone in the Leaky Cauldron approached him to shake his hand. They were honoured to meet him. Harry even met one of his future professors at Hogwarts. Professor Quirrell, who taught Defence against the Dark Arts, complimented him on his skills, which only added to Harry's growing confusion.
"Yeh shoulda seen yer face, Harry", chuckled Hagrid, after Tom had seated them in a quiet corner and had rushed off to fetch breakfast.
"Hagrid, what just happened?", asked Harry, completely overwhelmed. He fixed the giant with a determined stare. He wanted answers. Now.
"Harry – yer famous", said Hagrid.
"I'm what?", said Harry, frowning.
"Famous", repeated Hagrid. "Everyone in our world knows yer name. Yer the Boy-Who-Lived."
"The Boy-Who-Lived?", said Harry slowly. "What does this mean? How can I be famous? I'm eleven", he emphasised.
"Wish yer relatives told yeh those things", mumbled Hagrid. "Dumbledore left a letter fer yeh. Saw it meself."
"This is about the war, isn't it?", guessed Harry. "About what happened to my parents."
Hagrid looked at him with sad eyes and remained silent, confirming Harry's suspicions.
"Guess I should start at the beginnin'", sighted Hagrid, looking rather uncomfortable. "See, Harry, there was a wizard. An evil one. His name was..."
Hagrid's mouth moved, but no words came out. He looked terrified. Harry understood. Names had power.
"Well, no one says his name. People are still scared. Don' like ter remember those dark days. It was terrible, Harry", said Hagrid. "Anyway – this wizard gathered followers. Some joined 'im out o' fear, others wanted power fer 'emselves. People began ter disappear, Muggles were attacked an' killed. It got worse each day. He was takin' over. Some people stood up ter 'im. He...killed them."
"Including my parents?", asked Harry somberly.
"They were brave, Harry. Fought fer what's right. They wanted yeh ter grow up in a safe world."
"So, were they part of an army?", questioned Harry. "Police?"
"Wizards don' have these things, Harry. We have Aurors. Dark wizard catchers", explained Hagrid. "And no, yer parents weren' Aurors. They were members o' a secret organisation –"
Hagrid shut his mouth so fast, Harry could hear his teeth clang together.
"A secret organisation?", Harry dug deeper.
"Shouldn'ta said that", muttered Hagrid and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Listen, Harry", he whispered and leaned closer towards Harry. "The Ministry was fightin' a losing battle. Pretty useless, especially in the end. Still are, if yeh ask me. Dumbledore founded this secret organisation ter oppose You-Know-Who an' his followers. Yer parents joined the Order when they left school. We were able ter put up a good fight. Until a few members o' the Order were killed – the McKinnons, the Prewetts, the Bones. You-Know-Who wiped out whole families."
Hagrid pulled a dirty, spotted handkerchief out of one of his many pockets and blew his nose loudly.
"One day Dumbledore found out that You-Know-Who was looking fer yer parents an' they went inter hiding", he said glumly. "But he found 'em. Came ter yer home an' killed yer parents."
Harry looked away. His parents hadn't died in a car crash. They had been murdered by a dark wizard.
"And that's where things get strange", continued Hagrid. "You-Know-Who wanted ter kill yeh too, but for some reason he couldn'. He killed so many people, but he failed to kill yeh. And that's why yer famous. Yeh survived. With on'y a scar on yer forehead."
Harry's hand shot up and touched his scar.
"That's no ordinary cut, Harry. That's where the curse hit yeh. Worked with yer parents. An' blew up yer house. But yeh survived. That's why yer called the 'Boy-Who-Lived'."
Harry remembered a blinding flash of green light. And something else resurfaced in Harry's mind. A high, cold, cruel laugh. Harry gulped.
"What happened to that wizard?"
"Nobody really knows, Harry. He disappeared, vanished. Makes yeh even more famous. Some say he died on that night. Codswallop, if yeh ask me. Don' think he was human enough ter simply die. Dumbledore believes he's still out there. Weakened an' hardly alive. Too weak ter continue, but bidin' his time until he can return."
Bugger.
They ate in silence. Harry was still overwhelmed by the events of the last few hours. So much had happened. He had finally found the magical world and had met a wizard, who hadn't run off after wordlessly shaking his hand. A wizard, who had not only known his parents but was also willing to talk about them. His relatives had always avoided speaking of them. He had known their names and how they had died, but nothing else beyond that. However, contrary to his relative's claims, they hadn't died in a car crash. They were murdered by a dark wizard, who had also tried to kill him, but failed, before disappearing without the trace, resulting in Harry being famous. Nothing was more surprising and unsettling than his fame. Harry didn't like attention. He had tried his best to avoid it while in school and at his relative's home, perfecting the art of staying unnoticed and ignored in the process. Besides, the idea of a toddler being responsible for the defeat of a powerful, dark lord was ludicrous. According to Hagrid, nobody knew what happened on that day, but it seemed that everyone agreed that he was somehow responsible. The magical community was content with worshipping him to a ridiculous degree. There were other things, which didn't really make sense to him. If he was really that famous, why was he left ignorant and why was he living in exile with the Dursleys? Why was he dragged into the spotlight unprepared? Harry really needed a nice, quiet place to think about these issues.
After Doris Crockford had shaken his hand one more time, he and Hagrid finally managed to leave the Leaky Cauldron through the back door. The small, enclosed backyard looked completely ordinary, but Harry wasn't fooled. He waited in anticipation while Hagrid was counting the bricks on the wall. As soon as he got the right one, he tapped it three times, causing the bricks to rearrange into an archway. The magic of Diagon Alley washed over him the moment he crossed the threshold. It was wild and ever changing, whirling around the place, mixing and parting. Its components were so different, but blended together perfectly. It gave Harry goosebumps. Diagon Alley was a narrow, cobbled street, winding its way between crooked houses. The buildings leaned so far into the road, they were almost touching above their heads. Harry could see shops selling cauldrons, brooms and...Books! He was magically attracted by a second-hand book shop, but Hagrid reminded him that they still had to go to Gringotts Wizarding Bank to get money. Harry had been rather relieved when Hagrid had told him about his inheritance. The Dursleys had never spent much money on him and most likely wouldn't start now. He had to make sure his newfound resources remained a secret, because he doubted that his relative's dislike for magic included magical money. Despite being distracted by another book shop Harry was unable to overlook the impressive, snow white building towering over the neighbouring shops. They climbed up the stairs in front of the bronze double door when Harry noticed someone standing at the side. He almost squealed in joy. It was a small humanoid figure, about fifty inches high, with long fingers and large feet. The being was fair-skinned and had a dome shaped head.
"Yeah, that's a goblin", whispered Hagrid.
Harry blinked. He had read about goblins. They were rather common in modern fantasy literature and folklore. The goblin in front of him hardly resembled the nightmarish creature he knew from books. He was wearing a nice, scarlet and golden uniform and had a trimmed goatee. The goblin caught Harry staring and flashed a toothy grin, which told Harry that real goblins were no less fearsome than their book counterparts. The impression was also confirmed by the inscription on the second pair of doors. Maybe mundane banks should take a leaf out of Gringotts' book, in order to avoid robberies.
An exciting roller coaster ride and a few glimpses into Goblin culture later, Harry left Gringotts with pockets full of money, ready to explore the rest of Diagon Alley. However, Hagrid looked the worse for wear and left Harry to his own devices, while he took a drink in the Leaky Cauldron to settle his stomach. Harry immediately headed towards the second-hand book shop near the pub, which he had seen earlier, leaving Hagrid behind, who chuckled and mumbled about something called 'Ravenclaws'. The shop was crammed with books, leaving only narrow paths between the shelves. Harry felt at home. What kind of treasures lay hidden under piles of worn and stained books? The shopkeeper reacted in the very same way like the people in the Leaky Cauldron when he saw Harry. He began searching the shelves for copies of his schoolbooks, browsing through them and looking for side notes. An old teacher had mentioned the advantages of second-hand books once and Harry would need all the help he could get. There was magic in the ink and parchment, but it felt off. It felt torn, damaged like the books themselves. Looking around, Harry wondered why parchment was still in use since paper had already become dominant when Gutenberg had invented modern book printing. The shopkeeper didn't know the answer either, but Harry suspected that parchment provided a better home for magic spells than paper.
Cauldrons, large enough to fit an adult, were lined up against the wall. Smaller cauldrons were displayed on shelves. Harry was tempted to buy a golden, thimble-sized cauldron, but Hagrid wouldn't let him. He was really looking forward to Potions.
The witch, who pinned his robes to the right length, eyed him curiously, but didn't seem to recognise him. At least, she didn't say anything. Apparently his appearance wasn't common knowledge and he should remain unnoticed as long as he kept his scar covered. Harry not only bought his school uniform but also some casual wear. He was tired of being the weird kid with baggy clothes and broken glasses. This was his chance to begin a completely new chapter. He also made sure to have two extra hats. Hats have power. Hats are important.
Harry bought the rest of his schoolbooks at Flourish and Blotts. It was the biggest book shop in Diagon Alley and a paradise for bookworms. Hagrid had to drag Harry out of the shop.
While Hagrid took care of buying a supply of basic potion ingredients Harry explored the Apothecary. This place contained actual, physical evidence for the existence of mythological creatures. Unicorn horns, glass bottles containing dragon blood, fairy wings. The magical world was a lot bigger and much more fascinating than he could ever have imagined.
"On'y one thing left", said Hagrid, checking the list. "Yer wand. An' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."
Harry was speechless. He had just met Hagrid that morning and he had already done more for him than the Dursleys had done in the last ten years.
"Tell yeh what, I'll get yeh an animal. Every child should have a pet."
Harry wondered what kind of pets Hagrid had owned in his childhood.
"Hagrid, you don't really have to –"
"But I want to", said Hagrid gently. "Let's see...Not a toad. Everybody will laugh at yeh, when yeh bring one of those."
"How about a cat?", suggested Harry. "Cats are nice."
"Don' like cats. They make me sneeze", said Hagrid, making a disgusted face. "I'll get yeh an owl. They're amazing. Carry yer mail an' everythin'."
"Sounds good to me, Hagrid", said Harry smiling.
Hagrid bought him a beautiful snowy owl. He decided to call her Binky.
Mr Ollivander was a rather interesting man. He had an amazing memory, was a little bit creepy and had probably never heard of personal space. A wizard, who had delved deeper into magic than most others, but had not resurfaced completely sane. There's a streak of madness in everyone, who spends quality time with gods. Harry listened attentively when Mr Ollivander lectured about wands. They weren't mere tools. Wands were an extension of yourself. They became part of their wizard or witch, growing and learning with them. They were sentient, reaching out to wizards and witches, who were able to use them to their fullest potential. It's the wand that chooses the wizard, not the other way round. Harry tried out several wands. He could feel the magic in every single one of them, but they remained unresponsive to him. Uninterested. However, when Mr Ollivander handed him a wand, made of holly and phoenix feather, Harry immediately felt a connection. Harry and his wand celebrated their union by producing a shower of red and golden sparks, which formed a blurry, avian form. They had finally found each other. Harry was overjoyed. However, Ollivander's ominous words at the end made Harry shiver. The same core. Yew and Holly.
Douglas Adams invented some of the most amazing curse words.
"Every trade, every craft had its hat. That's why kings had hats. Take the crown off a king and all you had was someone good at having a weak chin and waving to people. Hats had power. Hats were important." – Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad
"There's a streak of madness in everyone, who spends quality time with gods." – Terry Pratchett, Small Gods