The Great Privit Drive Escape.
When the first letter came, Harry had hid it immediately. He had tried to forget all day that a letter had come with his name on it. Green ink and heavy paper. Mr H. J Potter, the cupboard under the stairs. Instead he concentrated on the long list of chores his Aunt had given him and avoiding Dudley's new Smelting's stick.
By the end of the day, he'd been so tired and bruised that he had forgotten about the hastily hidden letter under his mattress and fallen asleep.
The next day when the post came, Aunt Petunia went to retrieve it and let out a shriek. She'd scurried back to the kitchen and hustled Harry and his cousin out into the hall. Even Dudley's cries that he wasn't done eating hadn't made any difference.
Dudley pushed Harry away to make sure he got the best spot to listen at the door. Not that Harry had expected it, he never got the first or best of anything. Instead, he laid down on the ground and listened from under the door.
He didn't hear much. Aunt Petunia was whispering and Uncle Vernon was mumbling. He just had to wait for him to lose his temper and then the whole street would know what had happened.
"There's two!" He made out his Aunt's shrill tones.
His Uncle grumbled back. There was the sound of ripping paper and his Uncle's voice rose.
"He won't be going!"
Harry jumped up and took a step back. Dudley didn't bother. The kitchen door was swung open and Harry watched as Uncle Vernon came towards him red faced.
He grabbed his arm and pulled him to the door of his cupboard. As his Uncle fumbled with the lock, Aunt Petunia called Dudley in to finish his breakfast. His cousin gave him a smug look before he left.
Harry ducked his head to avoid hitting it as his Uncle threw him backwards into his cupboard.
"Wait till I get back, boy." With that he closed the door and locked it behind him.
He sat in the darkness and listened as his Uncle left, pondering what he'd done now. It was half an hour later when he remembered the letter he'd stashed.
His cousin was upstairs and his Aunt was in the living room. He could hear the mid-morning news on the television. He had hours until his Uncle got back from work.
It was a risk but Harry decided to take it. As silently as possible, he slid the letter out from under his mattress. The letter had been sealed with deep purple wax and a 'H' had been stamped into it.
As carefully and quietly as he could he broke the seal and pulled out the letter inside. Harry tucked the envelope under his mattress once more and held the paper to the slim beam of light that came round the edges of the door. He read through it carefully.
Was it some kind of joke?
Dudley and his friends would often play tricks on him. He saw through most of them straight away. But this was far too elaborate. Even the quality of the paper. He read it through again.
Harry knew Dudley wouldn't be so stupid as to send a letter like this. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was magic and even Dudley wasn't allowed to talk about magic. He'd even heard him insist to his friends that magic wasn't real.
But Harry knew that wasn't true. He could do magic. He could move things without touching them. He'd grown his hair back in a night and teleported himself to the roof of the school. He could heal his body just by concentrating hard enough. And there was the whole accidental episode at the Zoo.
There was a school for people like him. And he'd been invited.
The question was, now what?
He didn't have any money and even if he did where could he buy a cauldron or any of these magic books? These Wizards could tell he had magic and that he lived under the stairs but they didn't know he lived with non-magical people? That he didn't know any of this stuff? And what did they mean by 'we await your owl'?
Once he'd read the letter over again twice he slid the envelope back out and put his letter safely inside. Deciding that under the mattress was not a good enough hiding spot, he pried open one of the loose floor boards at the edge of his cupboard.
There was only a few crumbs inside the hole from the last time he'd managed to steal some bread. Hiding the letter safely inside he went over the conundrum in his head.
If he didn't accept, would they forget about him and give his place to someone else?
When Uncle Vernon had come home, he and Aunt Petunia had had a franticly whispered conversation in the kitchen that he could only just make out from his cupboard. After, Uncle Vernon had opened his cupboard and attempted to hunch down to be at eye level with Harry.
This being something he had never done before, Harry was instantly alert and wary.
He explained that the cupboard was getting too small for him and that he was getting Dudley's second bedroom. It had taken a moment for the shock to pass and for the pieces to fall into place for him. He'd got another letter this morning. Possibly two thinking to what he'd heard earlier at the crack at the kitchen door.
And his Uncle wasn't letting him go. He didn't even tell Harry about the letters. Not that that was a surprise. But they were worried. Worried that someone else knew.
After that he 'enjoyed' the expanse that was Dudley's room. It was barren with a bare bed frame that Harry suspected his Uncle had actually picked up at the dump. They hadn't bothered with a new mattress, he still had his old lumpy cot mattress, so even though he had space he still slept hunched up under his thread bare sheet. It was colder in Dudley's second bedroom aswell. Harry suspected it was because of the single window. There was a broken desk, a broken wardrobe, whose door hung off, and an assortment of Dudley's broken toys. He wasn't sure he liked it.
After that no more letter's came.
His was still tucked in his cupboard. He hadn't found an opportunity to retrieve it yet. He just had to wait until he had to get cleaning supplies from his cupboard next. The last two times his Aunt had been hovering and he didn't get the chance.
He knew he was supposed to reply by the thirty-first of July and the date was rapidly approaching. Every time he was allowed into the garden he looked around for an owl. Unless it was some kind of code he wasn't getting, he assumed Wizards used owls for post like carrier pigeons. But he didn't see any. He'd even managed to steal a sheet of paper and a pencil and wrote a reply asking for more information that he kept folded up in his pocket.
That was why, as he waited for it to turn midnight and for his eleventh year to begin, he was particularly melancholy. He would be one step closer to getting away from the Dursley's forever. Usually that thought buoyed him when he knew his birthday would be like every other day of his life. It didn't matter that he didn't get presents or cake because it wouldn't be too long before he was gone. Before he could escape.
But 'gone' had seemed much closer this year. He could have gone to magic school and learned how to do things with his power. More than he could now. That opportunity seemed to be slipping through his fingers.
The bright red numbers on Dudley's old alarm clock that Harry had found not to be broken, flicked over showing it was twelve o'clock.
"Happy Birthday to me." He said quietly into the empty room before rolling over and falling to sleep.
The following day went just like any other. Uncle Vernon shouted at him to wake up while banging on the door. Harry went down stairs and begun making breakfast for the Dursley's, careful to drop a slice of toast so he could have some. Uncle Vernon read the newspaper, Dudley stuffed his face and Aunt Petunia delighted at the fact soon Harry would be going to Stonewall High and out from under everyone's feet.
Then there was a knock on the door.
The Dursley's didn't take too kindly to their nice normal morning being interrupted by the giant of a man. Harry didn't take too kindly to finding out he had been lied to his whole life. He shouldn't have been surprised, they lied all the time about him, why not his parents too?
When Hagrid revealed that Harry had received and opened one of his letters, he tried not to shrink under his Aunt and Uncles hateful glares. Hagrid didn't seem to be able to read people like Harry could and completely missed the tension building in the room. He just went on about how when they didn't get his reply, Professor Dumbledore had sent Hagrid to go get him. The Headmaster trusted the idiot for some reason.
The adults argued with each other about whether Harry could go to Hogwarts or not. Eventually it seemed like the Dursley's had no choice but to let him go.
Then, as suddenly as he arrived, Hagrid was off with Harry in tow, to a place called Diagon Alley. It took a while on the train getting to London and the journey was made more difficult by Hagid's size. He had to duck through ever doorway and people had to get out of his way.
He asked Hagrid about the Wizarding World and quickly learnt about the existence of the Ministry of Magic, the Wizarding Governing body and Gringotts, the Wizarding bank run by Goblins as the giant read the Wizarding newspaper, The Daily Prophet. He took the man's opinions on things with a pinch of salt, doubting they were even his opinions to begin with. They were probably Dumbledore's words as Hagrid spoke highly of him.
Soon they arrived in London and made their way to Diagon Alley.
"This is the Leaky Cauldron. Muggles walk right by it and never notice it." Hagrid explained as they entered.
A man called to Hagrid from behind the bar, offering him a drink.
"Not today Tom. I'm showing Young Harry here where to get his school supplies." Hagrid bellowed back.
Tom's eyes slide to him and then widened. Harry frowned.
"Merlin's beard. It's Harry Potter!"
The pub fell silent and Harry froze. Everyone had stopped to stare at him with wide eyes. Then suddenly they were all on their feet, moving towards him. Someone grabbed his hand and Harry tried to pull away but the man hung on shaking it.
It felt warm and disturbing. He didn't know when the last person to touch him like that had been but he quickly decided he didn't like it.
"It's so good to meet you, Mr Potter. So good."
He moved and a woman tried to sweep him up in her arms but he swiftly moved back and bumped into Hagrid.
"Alright, Alright!" Hagrid didn't seem to notice his distress but the man behind the bar did. "Don't mob the boy. Go back to your drinks."
The crowd dissipated and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He gave Tom a nod of thanks and followed Hagrid as he pointed over to a table in the corner and he gratefully sat down.
"What was that? Why were they all..." he drifted off not knowing how to describe what had just happened.
Then Hagrid began to explain about the night his parents died. He thought about the nightmare he had sometimes. The man laughing. The woman screaming. The burst of green light. He'd always thought it was the car crash that he was remembering. But no. It was the night his parents were murdered by a dark wizard.
"What happened to him? You-know-who. He's gone, right?" Harry asked shaking himself out of his thoughts.
"Some say he's gone for good. Codswallop, I say. I think he's still out there. Too tired to go on..." Hagid's' voice lowered even more and Harry supressed a shiver.
Their first stop was Gringotts bank to get out his money. The Goblins had unnerved him slightly with their sharp claws and pointed teeth but he had been careful not to let it show. He answered there bows with a bow himself with the same amount of lean. Hagrid was a bit short with the creatures, which Harry could tell they didn't like, so he had been as polite as possible without over doing it. He didn't want them to think he was mocking them.
Griphook had shown him to his vault and had explained the Wizarding coins to him when he asked politely. The money itself had been one of the biggest shocks of the day. He was rich. He vowed to himself to be careful with it though. He wouldn't let himself spend it on things he didn't need.
Hagrid was also retrieving something for the Headmaster and that vault was even deeper within the cave system that sat under Gringotts. By the time they reached the lobby again Hagrid was decidedly green. Getting out in the air didn't seem to help.
Envisioning having to leave the glorious Alley before he'd had a look around, he quickly came up with a plan.
"Why don't you go back to the Leaky Cauldron and settle your stomach. I've got my list." He waved the copy of the letter Hagrid had given him.
"Oh I don't know." Hagrid spoke slower than before. "How about I drop you of to get your robes fitted and I'll pick you up in a bit."
Hagrid had been kind to him but Harry could tell he wasn't very smart. He didn't want to follow him around either. He could do it himself. He thought the giant would probably go for it if he framed it right.
"You should rest Hagrid. You are quite green." He put a lot of concern into his voice. "I can do it. My Aunt lets me go shopping all the time."
That seemed to put him at ease. It wasn't even that much of a lie. His Aunt did send him shopping on occasion but usually only to the shop around the corner. The furthest he went by himself was the public library and if he got run over by a bus on the way, as far as his relatives were concerned, good.
"You're a good lad, Harry. You meet me back where we came in. And stay in this street, you can get everything here. You don't want to be going down any of the alley's at the side." The man pointed to a particularly dark one just off Gringotts. "Knockturn Alley in particular, nothing down there but trouble."
Harry smiled and nodded at him. Then the giant ambled off slightly unsteady on his feet.
He looked down at his list again. When Hagrid had shown up he had decided to pretend he didn't know anything about magic just mentioned the accidental bouts his relatives had also witnessed. It was better that everyone underestimated him and he didn't want his relatives to know he'd been practising all this time.
The letter Hagrid had given him was exactly like the one he had read before except it was addressed to the smallest bedroom. The list was exactly the same:
First-year students will require:
Uniform
Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)
One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear
One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags at all times.
Books
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
Other Equipment
1 Wand
1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set of glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set of brass scales
Students may also bring an Owl, a Cat or a Toad.[1]
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.
The first thing he wanted was a wand. He could do magic without one but Wizards had to have them for a reason. It must make magic easier. Or stronger. It didn't matter he wanted one.
As he had followed Hagrid to the bank, Harry had carefully memorised his surroundings. It was something he did when he was somewhere new. It was always a good plan to know where you could run or hide, where the exits and entrances were. He'd been trapped too many times by Dudley and his gang to forget that.
So he remembered exactly where Olivander's wand makers had been.
He pushed open the door and peered into the darkened storefront. There was no one in sight but a bell had rung when he pushed open the door so the owner should know he was there.
Suddenly a grey haired man with pale eyes appeared behind the counter.
"Ahhh. Mister Potter. I've been expecting you." The man said, studying him.
Harry took an immediate dislike to the man. He knew he'd flattened his fringe over his scar after the crowd in the pub. The man shouldn't have just known it was him. He assumed he was Ollivander as the man waved his wand and a tape measure came towards him and started taking measurements.
"Which is your wand hand, Mr Potter?" Ollivander asked.
He could use either hand to write with but he supposed he favoured his right. Holding it out the tape measure began floating around his arm, taking measurements at every conceivable angle.
"I remember when your parents came to get their wands. James Potter 11 inches, Mahogany, pliable. And little Lily Evans. It was Willow for her, 10 and a quarter inches, quite swishy. Good for Charms." As the old man wittered about wands he searched the bookshelves behind the counter that was filled with boxes.
He pulled a box off the shelf and pulled out the wand inside.
"Try this. 11 inches, Oak with unicorn hair. Give it a wave." He told him putting the wand in Harry's hand.
Harry couldn't help but feel a bit stupid. Still he gave it a half hearted wave. His magic rose to his hand but he could tell it didn't like the wand that sat there. It swelled as though trying to push the wand away. The vase that had been sitting on the counter shattered. Ollivander quickly snatched the wand away from him. He took his own wand out and repaired the vase.
Harry frowned at him. There was no need to grab. He forced his face carefully blank again before the man turned back again with another wand. He cracked the glass in the windows, broke the vase once again and knocked over a few stacks of wands before something different happened.
Eleven inches, Holly wood with a Phoenix feather core. As soon as the wand was in his hand he knew it was the one. A familiar warmth tingled up his arm, coalescing in his hand. As he waved it gold and silver sparks flew out the end. He couldn't help the half smile that came to his face. It didn't last long.
"Curious, very curious." Ollivander said seemingly to himself.
"What's curious, Sir?" He hoped he wouldn't regret it.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."
Harry swallowed.
"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter ... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."
Harry looked down at his wand. He could feel his magic reach out to it and the wand reaching back to him. It was his. Harry decided it didn't particularly matter but he would try to find a book on wands anyway.
"How much, Sir?" He said instead.
"That will be seven Galleons, Mr Potter."
Harry exchanged the money and left as quickly as he could without running. He thought Ollivander was probably a creep on purpose. Look how mystical wands are. I'm so mysterious and strange.
Next, he supposed he should get a trunk to carry his things in. He bought one in middling range with a lightweight charm, protective wards and a password to open it. The owner had been helpful and not at all mad. He'd kept his scar carefully covered and owner had assumed he was a 'muggleborn' with all the questions he asked.
He couldn't help but think if muggles could have magic children then there must be some kind of how to, introduction to all things wizard guide. He added that to the extra books he thought he should buy. He might not need them for lessons but Harry wasn't going to stick out here if he could help it. The whole celebrity thing was a kink in his plan.
Then he entered Madam Malkin's Robes. A woman immediately bustled up to him.
"Hogwarts, dearie?" She asked cheerfully.
He nodded, giving the store a once over. There were a hundred different fabrics on show in a thousand different colours. He tried not to let the shabby state of his clothes make him embarrassed.
"Right this way. There's another boy getting his school robes." She chatted on and put a hand on his shoulder to lead him through to the back. Harry stiffened but managed not to shrug it off.
There was another boy about his age getting fitted. He was taller than Harry but not by much. He had platinum blonde hair and a slightly pinched face. He turned to Harry and looked him over when he stood on a stool next to him. Another tape measure began floating round him taking measurements, momentarily distracting him from the boy.
"Hullo. Hogwarts too?" The blonde asked Harry.
"Yes." The woman doing his fitting threw a black cloth over his head and began pining it together.
"My Father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands." He drawled at Harry the same way Dudley did to Uncle Vernon's colleagues. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."
He got the feeling that the boy was trying to impress him...
"Do you have your own broom?" and simultaneously make sure he knew he wasn't as good as him.
"No." Harry answered breezily, like it didn't matter to him in the slightest.
The twitch of the blondes eyebrows told Harry he was displeased with his tone but he carried on anyway.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"No." He answered again sounding bored.
Harry kept his eyes mostly fixed on the mirror in front of him. He could see the doorway that led to the front of the store and the woman who moved round him pinning material in place. The mirror in front of the blonde showed his haughty expression.
"I do," He told Harry as though that made him superior. "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"
Harry vowed to himself to read every book he bought before September. He was at a complete loss.
"No." Harry added Quidditch to his list of books and definitely something about Hogwarts.
"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
Harry gave a non-committal hum and wished he could find something interesting to say. Even if he didn't particularly like the boy he didn't want him to think he was stupid. He didn't want to give away that he didn't have a clue about the Wizarding world either. But he could remember what the titles to the books on his list were.
"What do you think will be your favourite subject?" Harry asked.
The boy puffed up abit, pleased that he seemed to be taking an interest.
"Oh Potions, of course. Professor Snape is an old family friend and has given me a few private lessons. He's the youngest Potion Master ever, you know. And of course I'm interested in Defence Against the Dark Arts but Father says the classes are a joke. No one has held the post for more than a year for as long as anyone can remember and Dumbledore always hires idiots to teach."
He rambled on until the woman doing his fitting told him he was finished, handing over his uniform in a parcel. Harry had paid close attention sorting fact from opinion. Although he was pleased not everyone liked this Dumbledore. He wouldn't be alone if he took a disliking to the man too.
"Well, see you at Hogwarts, I suppose." The boy swaggered out in search of his parents.
Harry sighed as soon as he was gone. Now he was alone, Harry turned to the woman he assumed was Madam Malkin.
"What do Wizards wear on weekends? I'll need pyjama's too." There was no way he was taking Dudley's rags with him. He was staring afresh after all.