Trials of The Stone

by RagingCassowary

(Book 1 of The Founders' Legacy) Harry Potter is no stranger to extraordinary events, so when a giant of a man arrives to tell him he's a wizard, it only confirms what he had already guessed: he is different. However, it isn't until he boards the Hogwarts Express and leaves his old world far behind that he discovers just how different he truly is.

7. The Boy Who Lived

A/N: I'm not planning to do many author's notes in this story, only when I think they're really necessary, but I need to apologise for taking so long to update. I've been working on this chapter since the day I uploaded chapter five, but a combination of writer's block and college have kept it from being finished sooner. I also wanted to address some things which were brought up in my reviews. Firstly, just like in The Best of Friends, there will not be any bashing in this story. Secondly, I am aware that it seems like very little has changed from canon so far, however I said I was going to start at the beginning and that is what I did. There will be more obvious changes soon, if anyone is worried about this just being canon written in different words. However, as I said in the first chapter, even the small differences can be important. Thank you to everyone who has followed or favourited for being so patient.

o0o0o0o

The Boy Who Lived

Harry's first sight upon awakening was darkness. He closed his eyes and tried to hold onto the dream he'd just had. It had been a good one, with strange letters that had chased him and the Dursleys all across the country and a giant called Hagrid who had appeared to take him off to Wizard school.

'What was the name of the school again?' his groggy mind wondered, 'Oh right, Hogwarts: Finest School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world.' Sometimes Harry was amused by the fact that he still had such a strange imagination after an upbringing like his. He yawned and opened his eyes again, it was probably a good idea to get up before his relatives did. After such a detailed dream, he was almost certain he'd overslept.

He sat up and blinked as Hagrid's coat fell off him, revealing the shack which he had thought was merely a product of his sleeping mind. Harry drew in a sharp breath and fell back against the couch as the conversation from yesterday hit him all over again. He franticly searched around him until he found the letter. He stared at it like he thought it would disappear if he looked away.

'It really happened. I really am a wizard.' The idea felt so strange among his thoughts and he still wasn't entirely sure whether to be excited or terrified by it. The storm from last night had passed and the building was filled with cool morning sunlight. Looking to his left, he saw Hagrid's massive form fast asleep in the corner. The Dursleys were nowhere to be seen and were most likely still hiding upstairs.

Harry pushed himself upright and looked over the parchment again. Too eager to know more about magic to wait for Hagrid to wake up, he opened up the envelope and emptied the remaining contents onto the seat next to him. He looked between them indecisively for a moment, before grabbing one of the pieces he'd ignored the first time and unfolding it. The words were written in familiar green ink:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Equipment List

Uniform

First-Year students will require:

Three or more sets of plain work robes (black)

One or more plain winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

One plain, rimless, pointed hat (black) for formal wear

One pair each of protective gloves and boots (dragon hide or similar)

(Please note that any house colours or emblems may only be added after the sorting ceremony)

Set Books

All First-Year students should own one copy each of the following:

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

A Study of the Stars (Volume 1) by Astrid Scoper

Any students with muggle parents/guardians should also consider the following:

Modern Magical History by Dervish Spinner

Discussions on Wizarding Law by Dervish Spinner

Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century by Harriet Proudman

The Pocket Guide to Wizard Culture by Albert Black

The Pocket Guide to Muggle Culture by Albert Black

An Exploration of Witch-Hunting by Albert Black

Accidents with Magic by Adalbert Waffling

Other Equipment

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of medium phials (glass or crystal)

1 telescope

1 set of balance scales (brass)

1 or more feather quill

1 or more inkwell (black or crimson)

First-Years may bring a cat OR a rat OR an owl OR a toad

(REMINDER: First-Year students are only permitted to bring their own broomsticks under special circumstances which have been approved by the Headmaster)

Harry gulped and reread the list again, most of it meant absolutely nothing to him. He could gather that there were a few things that he needed to get his hands on before he left for Hogwarts, but he had no idea where he was supposed to find these things.

Another thought came out of nowhere and hit Harry like a hammer blow, "How am I going to afford any of this?" He could only imagine how expensive all of this magical equipment must be and his Uncle had already made it very clear that he wasn't going to pay for any of it.

Tap Tap Tap

Harry was jolted out of his worrying thoughts at the sound and looked around the room, trying to find the source of the noise.

TapTapTapTapTapTap

As the tapping returned, more insistent this time, Harry was led to a tiny window behind the stairs that he hadn't even noticed before now. Outside was an owl, which was tapping on the glass and looking decidedly impatient. Remembering the incident in the woods, Harry pulled the window open and watched as the bird flew inside and circled the room once, before landing on top of Hagrid's coat.

Harry approached it slowly and realised that it had what looked like a newspaper held in its beak. Taking its expectant look as a hint, he reached out and carefully took the paper from its beak. The bird made no move to stop him, instead simply continued to look at him expectantly. Harry stared back, not sure what the bird was waiting for. After a few seconds, the bird turned away form him and began to attack Hagrid's coat with its beak.

"What are you doing?" said Harry, trying foolishly to grab at the bird, "Stop that! Stop it!"

The bird turned and screeched in his face, making him back off hastily, then returned to pecking at the brown lump. Not wanting to have to explain to Hagrid how he had let a bird eat his coat, Harry ran over to the big man and tried to shake him awake. Hagrid groaned and his eyes fluttered sleepily.

"'Arry?" he grunted, "Wha' is it?"

"There's a bird," said Harry quickly, "It had a newspaper in its mouth and I thought it wanted me to take it, so I let it in and took it, but now it's ripping apart your coat and I don't know what I'm-"

"Pay 'im," interrupted Hagrid.

"Pay- what?" said Harry stupidly.

"He wants payin' is all, fer the paper," clarified Hagrid, who had pushed himself up a bit and was rubbing his eyes, "I've got some money in me coat. Prob'ly wha' he's after. Jus' give 'im five knuts."

"Five whats?" said Harry, feeling a familiar dizzy sensation from last night.

"Little bronze 'uns, yeh'll know 'em when yeh find 'em."

Harry returned to where the owl was and began to dig through the pockets in the coat. The moment he did so, the owl backed off and stuck its leg out for him. Harry now noticed the small leather pouch tied to its foot.

He searched the many pockets and pulled out a number of assorted items, including overfilled key rings, balls of string, mint humbugs, teabags and slug repellent. Finally he found a handful of odd looking coins. Most were the knuts Hagrid had mentioned, which were about the same size as a five-pence and made of bronze, but there were also a few silver pieces and one huge gold coin. He counted out five little bronze ones and slipped them into the pouch, then tied it securely.

Once it had received its payment, the owl spread its wings and flew straight out of the open window and into the distance. Harry watched it go for a while, then looked down at the coins still in his hand. He tried not to panic when the same worries as before came swooping back down over him. He looked back at Hagrid, who had just got himself up and was picking up his coat.

"Um, Hagrid," said Harry slowly.

"Eh?" The big man looked over at him and frowned, "Wha's wrong Harry?"

"How am I going to pay for all this," he pointed at the letter which still lay on the couch, "I don't even have any muggle money, let alone magical, and you heard my Uncle, he'll never pay for any of it."

"Don' you go worryin' about tha'," said Hagrid, pulling his coat on, "Yeh didn' think yer parents would leave yeh with nothin' did yeh? Nah, firs' stop o' the day fer us is Gringotts, only magical bank in Britain an' one o' the safest places in the world."

Harry was shocked. Not only did wizards use an entirely different currency to muggles, but apparently he also had his own bank account which he had never even heard of.

"What were my parents like?" asked Harry, seeing an opportunity to find out more about his past.

"Blimey, I keep forgettin' how little yeh must know about 'em," said Hagrid, "Well they were both good people, in their own ways. Yer mum was a great witch; top o' all of her classes, prefect, head girl- one o' the best to ever go ter Hogwarts."

"What did she look like?" asked Harry.

Hagrid looked at him strangely, "Have- have yeh never even seen a picture of 'em?"

Harry shook his head, thinking back on all the years when he'd wondered why there were no pictures around Number 4.

"I'm goin' ter have a serious word with Dursley abou' this later," growled Hagrid, but he took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Harry, "She was nothin' like her sister. Long red hair, green eyes- same as your eyes come ter think of it."

"I have my mum's eyes?"

"Yep," said Hagrid, "But I swear if it weren' fer that yeh'd look jus' like yer dad."

"Really?" breathed Harry in wonder, feeling a little light-headed.

"Messy black hair, same nose, same chin," listed Hagrid, "Yer a bit thinner an' James never wore glasses, but other than tha' yer his spittin' image."

"What was my dad like?" asked Harry.

Hagrid chuckled, "James Potter? Most likely one o' the biggest troublemakers Hogwarts has ever seen. Everyone knew about 'im an' his friends. Couldn' go anywhere near 'em without worryin' about trippin' on a dung bomb."

Harry wasn't sure what he thought about that, so he just smiled uncertainly.

"Ah, but he was a good kid," continued Hagrid, "Always a good laugh an' dead clever too, reckon he migh' have even made Head Boy if he'd have kept his own head screwed on a bit tighter."

Harry turned away from Hagrid and looked back out of the window. He thought back to that short explanation the Dursleys had given him about his parents. He'd always thought they were hiding something, but to find out that even the small tidbit of information they had given him was a lie was rather hard to stomach. He had learned more of his parents from this stranger than from his own family.

Feeling wetness creeping around his eyes, he blinked back the tears and scratched his nose. He glanced over at Hagrid and saw that the giant was gathering up the remains of last night's little supper. Most of the bits and bobs were just shoved back into his many pockets and Harry had to wonder how he fit so much in them.

Hagrid moved over to him and held out a plate of sausages. "Here," he said, "Yeh look like yeh could do with a bite ter eat an' these aren' bad cold."

Harry accepted the plate with a murmur of thanks. He continued to watch Hagrid while he ate. There were so many more questions he wanted to ask about his parents, but he forced himself not to. He thought it might be a bit rude to keep pestering the man about it and he needed to focus on learning more about wizards anyway.

"So, where are we going after Gringotts," he asked, after polishing off his first sausage, "Where exactly am I meant to buy a magic wand?"

"We're headin' ter London," said Hagrid, "Gringotts is in a place called Diagon Alley, that's where mos' people buy their stuff. In fact, we best get goin'. Yer great lump of an Uncle drove a fair way tryin' ter keep yeh away from yer letters."

The two of them finished the last of the sausages and even a slice each of Harry's cake, then began to pack Harry's bag, which Hagrid carried like it was a bag of sugar. They stepped outside into the cold morning and Hagrid led him down the rocks to where two little boats where tied up. Harry recognised one of them as the one he and his relatives had rowed over in.

"Why did you need that?" asked Harry, eyeing the other boat in confusion, "Couldn't you just- I don't know, magic yourself over?" He had been expecting some kind of magic carpet or flying broomstick.

At this, Hagrid looked away from Harry and began to shuffle awkwardly on his feet. "Ah, well I'm not really s'posed ter use magic any more," he admitted, "In fact, would yeh mind jus' forgettin' about that whole business with yer cousin. Could get in to a lot o' trouble over that."

"What- why can't you use magic?" asked Harry in surprise.

"Well, so long as yeh don' mention it ter anyone, do yeh mind if I speed this up a bit?" said Hagrid, evading Harry's question.

"Not at all," said Harry quickly, hoping he hadn't offended the big man, 'It was a rather rude question,' he realised sheepishly.

"Yeh migh' want ter get in first," advised Hagrid, "Jus' ter be on the safe side."

Harry nodded and quietly followed Hagrid onto the small boat, which just barely fit both of them in.

"All righ' then," said Hagrid confidently, drawing his umbrella and concentrating on the wooden floor. Harry watched with equal parts curiosity and apprehension. Hagrid once again said something that sounded like nonsense and tapped the hull twice.

Immediately, the boat began to move, shooting away from the shoreline at a tremendous speed and letting off a loud bang like a cannon. Hagrid was thrown backwards, nearly falling into the water and Harry grabbed on to one side and clung on for dear life. Seawater stung his eyes as it was thrown up into his face and the speed threatened to toss him from the boat like a doll. He was dimly aware of Hagrid apologising loudly and raising his umbrella again, then the boat slowed. Harry jerked forwards at the sudden change in speed and would have fallen if Hagrid hadn't caught him at the last minute.

"I'm sorry Harry," said Hagrid in a panicked voice, "I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry. I didn' mean fer it ter-"

But Harry was too busy laughing to hear the man's apologies. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun, first Dudley's tail, now this.

"It- It's fine," said Harry between laughs as he picked himself up.

Hagrid gave him a smile, but still looked rather guilty. The two of them settled down on opposite side of the boat. Harry looked out over the side and watched as they glided across the smooth water. He absently noted that their should have been more waves, but his mind was mainly preoccupied with sorting out what had happened in the past few hours.

"Fudge is messin' things up again by the sounds of it," grumbled Hagrid, "Can' say I'm too surprised."

Harry looked over and found Hagrid's face now blocked by a newspaper called The Daily Prophet. He immediately wanted to ask who Fudge was and what was messed up, but he held his tongue. He had a feeling that he'd already asked more questions than was polite and didn't want to push things.

"Dumbledore's bein' nominated fer another award," said Hagrid in a much more pleasant tone, "Looks like he's been workin' with the goblins again."

Harry's head snapped up in surprise. "Goblins?" he said before he could stop himself.

"Yep," said Hagrid from behind his paper, "Ruddy little misers they are, but they run Gringotts, so someone has ter deal with 'em."

"We're going to a place owned by goblins," said Harry, still failing to keep his mouth shut.

"O' course," chuckled Hagrid, "Bes' people ter run a bank really. If somethin's got goblins watchin' over it then yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it."

'Goblins,' thought Harry, 'Just how many of the things I've read in fantasy are going to turn out to be real?'

Harry stayed quiet for the rest of the journey to shore, his mind full of questions that he didn't have the nerve to ask. Instead, he went back to looking out over the water and mulling things over.

Eventually, the boat reached solid ground and they made their way up the shore towards a nearby town. The pair drew quite a few stares as they walked to the town's train station, even more so when the eleven-year-old was the one who bought the tickets for them; Hagrid had no idea how to use Muggle money.

It was while they sat together on the platform, waiting for their train to arrive, that Hagrid put down his paper and spoke up again.

"Yeh know Harry," he said, causing the boy to look up at him, "I'm surprised yer bein' so quiet. I though' fer sure tha' yeh'd be full o' questions, 'speciallly after wha' I found out las' night."

Harry felt his face start to burn and looked away. "I didn't want to be rude," he answered honestly. The Dursleys had always told him that nobody appreciated questions.

"Ah don' worry abou' that Harry," said Hagrid, "I bet yeh've got a hundred things yeh want ter ask me. There's still plenty yeh should know before yeh go ter Hogwarts. Ask away."

"Um- ok, well-" Harry stammered, now hurrying to find a question to ask, "Do wizards have any- uh- laws? I mean, any different to Muggle ones. Any that I should know about."

"Well," said Hagrid leaning back and pondering the question, "I s'pose yeh ought ter know abou' the Statute o' Secrecy."

"What's that?"

"It's this big international law, really really old it is. It makes it illegal fer any wizard ter reveal 'emselves to the muggles."

"We're not allowed to tell people?" said Harry, surprised, "Then how did my aunt and uncle know about me?"

Hagrid frowned, "Yeh know wha', I'm not all tha' sure meself. Yer aunt an' her parents prob'ly saw Lily's Hogwarts letter, but yer uncle really shouldn' have known. Somebody must've broken the Statute at some point. I'd have though' the Ministry would have stepped in."

"Ministry?" said Harry.

"Ministry o' Magic," clarified Hagrid, "'S like our government. Cornelius Fudge is Minister at the momen', but it migh' as well be Dumbledore runnin' things. Fudge sends him letters almost every week askin' fer advice."

"Dumbledore?" said Harry, "I thought you said he was a teacher."

"Bit more than tha'," huffed Hagrid, looking a bit offended by Harry's words, "Headmaster o' Hogwarts, Chief Warlock o' the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump, he's even got his own Famous Witches an' Wizards Card."

Harry wasn't sure what a lot of those words meant, but he couldn't deny that the made the man sound very impressive. He was about to continue asking Hagrid questions, but at that point, their train arrived. After they had climbed on-board, drawing even more stares when Hagrid took two whole seats for himself, Harry decided it might be best to stop talking about wizards. He didn't want either of them to get in trouble with this Ministry Hagrid had talked about.

Instead, he pulled his letter out of his pocket and picked out another piece he had yet to read. Looking over it, he realised it was a map of London. Above the map was a title written in fancy script:

A Guide To Magical London

(Highly recommended for students with muggle backgrounds)

The map had been marked with several intricate pictures, each of which corresponded to a key on the left-hand side. The first, marked by an image of a bubbling cauldron, was labelled as:

The Leaky Cauldron

Famous Wizarding Tavern

Official hub station for the British Floo Network

Connected to the ONLY official entrance to Diagon Alley

(Students should travel to Diagon Alley at their earliest convenience in order to purchase their school supplies)

Across the rest of the map he could pick out many other interesting places, including a hospital called St. Mungos and four different streets which were all visitors entrances to the Ministry of Magic. However, the one which stood out to Harry was the one in the middle of King's Cross Station, which was labelled:

Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters

Home station of The Hogwarts Express

Official portkey safe-zone

(Students will find their tickets enclosed and those entering the station by muggle means may gain access to the platform via the barrier between Platform Nine and Platform Ten)

'That's the place,' thought Harry, 'That's where I'll be going in September, that's where I'll finally leave the Dursleys behind.'

Strangely, it had only occurred to him now that he would be leaving the Dursleys. He knew that he would probably have to come home during the holidays, but otherwise he wouldn't have to be near Vernon, Petunia or Dudley for a whole year. This should have made him feel even more excited, but instead he was filled with growing unease. It was all too good to be true, like any moment now he was going to wake up in his cupboard and find out it had all been a dream.

The train pulled to a stop some time later and Harry followed Hagrid out into the streets of London, still trying to squash down the uneasy feeling which had crept up on him during the journey. They walked through the city for several minutes before Hagrid stopped abruptly.

"Here it is," he said, "The Leaky Cauldron."

Harry's first thought when he saw the building was that he had expected something bigger. The tiny pub looked like it had been squashed into the left over space between the hat shop and small café which flanked it. The walls were built from large, roughly cut stone bricks and the sharp peaked roof was made of chipped grey slate. Three iron chimneys rose from the top, releasing steady columns of smoke into the air. Above the door hung a sign showing a large, bubbling cauldron filled with a green liquid that spilled over the sides. There wasn't a single window to be seen.

Despite the way in which the almost medieval-looking building stood out against the modern city around it, nobody in the street paid any attention to it. Their eyes seemed to slide from the café to the hat shop without stopping. Their strange behaviour reminded Harry of a dream he'd had a while ago, in which he had also been unable to look at something, even though he knew it was there. Before he could ask Hagrid about it, the big man walked up to the door and went inside, leaving Harry to follow behind him.

As he stepped through the doorway, Harry immediately noted that the room was much bigger than it had any right to be. He had expected a cramped little bar, but he was looking at a spacious common room with a high ceiling. Along the wall to his left was a large bar, behind which were tall racks of bottles and long rows of enormous wooden kegs. In the centre of the room were three long tables where a few people sat with plates of food and mugs of various liquids. To his right was a rickety wooden staircase which led to a first floor that Harry swore hadn't been there on the outside. Around the room were several platforms raised slightly off the ground, with small round tables where small groups could sit in privacy. The entire room was very dark, with only a few wax candles and two iron chandeliers to give light. Once again, there were no windows.

Harry looked around at the pub's occupants while he followed Hagrid. There weren't many of them. In a dark corner sat several old women, quietly sipping tiny glasses of sherry. A group of men in long robes were sat playing cards in the middle of the room, while another man in a purple turban had his face buried in a book. A small man in a top hat was at the bar, talking loudly with the bartender.

For the first time since he'd met the man, nobody spared a second glance at Hagrid.

"All righ' Tom," greeted Hagrid.

The barman, Tom, looked up from the glass he was cleaning. He was tall and thin and completely bald. He was wearing heavy brown robes and smiled through crooked teeth. Harry thought he looked like a bit like a monk.

"Ah, Hagrid," smiled Tom, "Haven't seen you around here in a while. What'll it be? Usual?"

"Can' Tom," said Hagrid looking apologetic, "I'm here on Hogwarts business," he clapped one great hand on Harry's shoulder, nearly making the small boy collapse, "Jus' helpin' young Harry here get his school things."

Tom nodded and glanced briefly at Harry, then did a double take.

"Bless my soul," he breathed, leaning forward, "Is it- are you- it can't be-"

Harry was feeling very uncomfortable as all conversation in the room stopped. He didn't turn around, but he could still feel everyone's eyes on him. Tom the barman suddenly opened a hatch and moved around the bar to face Harry. Harry tried to take a step back, but Hagrid's hand prevented him from doing so. Tom grasped his hand and gave him a very forceful handshake.

"Mr Potter- what an honour sir- welcome back, welcome back."

The effect on the room was immediate. Several people stood up abruptly, while the man in the turban slammed his book shut and gave a loud squeak. One of the old women dropped her glass and didn't even blink when it shattered on the floor. The little man next to them fell off his stool.

The next moment, Harry was surrounded by people trying to shake his hand.

"Doris Crockford, Mr Potter," said one of the women, "I can't believe I'm finally meeting you, such an honour."

"I can't believe- never thought I'd be here," said a man in canary yellow robes.

"Don't know what to say- just such an honour to meet you," said another.

"Dedalus Diggle," said the man in the top hat, dropping into a very low bow, "Delighted to meet you at last."

Harry enjoyed the attention at first, answering each person with a short "Thank you" or "Nice to meet you too", but he quickly got tired of it all. It felt like he would have to shake hands with everyone in the pub three times over and Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

Thankfully, Hagrid noticed his discomfort and spoke up loudly, "All righ', all righ' tha's enough. Harry needs ter get off and do his shoppin' now. We got lots ter buy."

Everyone backed off quickly, giving a final word on how good it was to meet him. Doris Crockford shook his hand one last time and he was finally free to move again. Hagrid led him towards a door at the far end of the room, however before they reached it, the man with the turban stepped up next to them.

"H-Harry P-P-Potter," he stammered, looking almost scared of the small boy, "C-can't tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

Harry was about to give a quick reply and get moving again, but Hagrid stopped and greeted the man warmly, "Professor Quirrell! I didn' see yeh over there. How are yeh doin'?"

"G-good day, H-Hagrid," said the Professor, looking equally as scared of the giant, "I'm v-v-very well thank you. Y-yourself?"

"Me? I'm alrigh'," said Hagrid, turning to Harry, "Harry, this here is Professor Quirinus Quirrell. He'll be one o' yer teachers at Hogwarts."

Harry was suddenly far more interested in talking to the trembling man, even if a light headache had sprung up after his introductions earlier. Professor Quirrell was a tall, young man and was clad almost exclusively in purple. In addition to the distinctive headpiece, he also wore a long purple scarf and an ornate purple and silver belt over his dark purple robes. His left eye twitched nervously and a strong odour of garlic hung around him.

"It's nice to meet you," said Harry, shaking Professor Quirrell's hand, "What sort of magic do you teach."

"Ah, a m-most n-noble subject; D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," replied Professor Quirrell, "Although, I'm sure you won't n-n-need it P-Potter," he laughed nervously.

Harry smiled politely, even though he didn't get the joke. Fortunately, he was saved by Hagrid who had let out a little chuckle.

"Well, we'd bes' be off," said the big man, "An' I'm sure yeh've got yer own business here as well. Bye fer now then."

"Y-yes- yes of c-course," said Professor Quirrell, backing away from them," I have a b-book on v-v-vampires that I n-need to p-purchase. F-frightfully exciting t-topic-" The young man had walked off, mumbling to himself.

"Poor bugger," said Hagrid, "Used ter be one o' the best in the business, but las' year he went off ter the Black Forest to hunt fer vampires. He's never bin the same since."

Harry simply nodded and followed Hagrid outside, into a shady courtyard behind the pub. Harry was still a bit overwhelmed at how everyone in the pub had reacted to him. Hagrid had said he was famous, but it all felt a bit too much. Not to mention his head still ached quite a bit.

"What was all that, Hagrid?" he asked.

Hagrid, who had been in the process of drawing his umbrella, looked over at Harry. "Wha' do yeh mean?"

"All that," repeated Harry, gesturing at the door they had just gone through, "Why was everyone so eager to meet me? Why did they all know who I was? What did Professor Quirrell mean; I won't need to learn defence against dark magic?"

"I told yeh," said Hagrid, looking confused, "Yer the reason we're not still at war. O' course everyone wants ter meet yeh."

"But that was ten years ago," argued Harry, in his experience, people usually didn't care half as much by this point, "And I didn't even do anything. I can't remember anything from before the Dursleys."

"'S not just tha' Harry," said Hagrid, " But it's complicated."

"Complicated how?" pressed Harry, too frustrated at his own ignorance to care about being rude.

Hagrid hesitated, then sighed and stowed away his umbrella. He sat himself down on a barrel and shifted to get comfortable. Harry took the hint and pulled up an overturned bucket to sit on.

"All righ' then," said Hagrid, "S' not pleasant, but if yeh want the full version, I'll give it to yeh. Yeh've a right ter know. Still don' think I'm the righ' person ter tell yeh, but I'll do me best," Hagrid paused, then began to explain, "You-Know-Who wasn' the firs' wizard ter go dark. He was one o' the worst o' course, but he definitely wasn' the first. Dark wizards have bin croppin' up since- since forever, since back when Merlin was still around."

Harry leaned in, curious about where Hagrid was going with this.

"Now I said before tha' You-Know-Who had followers, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Righ', they called 'emselves Death Eaters. Speaks fer itself don' it; they were all dark- every las' one of 'em, but there's somethin' tha' set You-Know-Who apart. Somethin' tha' made him worse than all o' the Death Eaters combined."

"What was it?" asked Harry.

"A curse," said Hagrid grimly, "One tha' nobody likes ter talk abou'- most don' even know it exists. There's only been two wizards in the past century who've dared to use tha' curse and You-Know-Who was one o' them."

"A curse," repeated Harry, a shiver running down his spine, "What does it do?"

"It kills," said Hagrid simply.

Harry was silent for a moment before he responded. "It just kills," he said blankly. He had been expecting something particularly gruesome or painful or destructive.

"There's nothin' just about it Harry," said Hagrid darkly, "S' cold murder, plain an' simple. There's no blockin' it, no stoppin' it, no reversin' it. Yeh see a bright flash o' light an' tha's it. Yer gone. Yer never comin' back."

Harry shivered again, imagining such a sudden ending to his life. He realised quickly that he didn't have to imagine, it was all there waiting for him in his mind; a flash of green, a sharp pain in his forehead, the sound of some inhuman creature dying.

"At least tha's what everyone thought," continued Hagrid, "But there's one person we know of who's survived it. Jus' one in all o' history an' nobody knows how he did it."

"Me," said Harry, finally understanding what Hagrid was trying to tell him.

Hagrid smiled and nodded. "I told yeh you were famous," he said, "But perhaps tha' was the wrong word. Yer not some celebrity. Yer a legend, Harry. Children grew up hearin' stories abou' yeh before bed. Dozens o' witches an' wizards have written theories, tryin' ter figure out why yer still breathin'. Some people still raise toasts to yeh on Halloween. Tha's the reason everyone knows who yeh are, the real reason. Yer not jus' Harry Potter. Yer not just a wizard. You are the boy who lived."

Harry looked down at his shoes, feeling very small all of a sudden. It was similar to how he'd felt after Hagrid had first told him he was a wizard, but this was much worse.

'A legend,' thought Harry, the idea sounded insane, 'I'm not a hero- I'm not anything. I wash dishes, I cook breakfast, I stay quiet. I don't fight off evil wizards- that's not me.'

A week ago Harry hadn't thought that anything could shake him more than that day at the zoo. Two days ago, he'd thought the same of what had happened at Railveiw Hotel. This morning it had been that night on the rock. It seemed that, no matter how crazy things were, his life was always ready to drop something even crazier on him.

He lifted his head. Hagrid had stood up while Harry was thinking and was now stood by a bare section of wall. He looked like he was counting bricks with his umbrella.

"I reckon this is prob'ly a lot fer yeh to take in," he said, looking over at Harry.

"Understatement of the century," muttered Harry, his lips twitching.

Hagrid chuckled, "Well, I think yeh'll find somethin' in here ter take yer mind off it. Aha!" Hagrid tapped a brick with the tip of his umbrella and it slid smoothly backwards into the wall.

Harry stood up and moved next to Hagrid, watching as the wall slid away, one brick at a time. The last one disappeared and Hagrid spread his arms wide.

"Welcome Harry, to Diagon Alley."

One look beyond the wall was all Harry needed to forget about the legend of the boy who lived.