Disclaimer:
If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction. (I would be off buying pointless items with my ridiculous amount of money.)
Letter
Last Chapter: "It's alright, it's okay; I won't let you hurt anyone." She chanted, now understanding why he was so afraid of his own emotions.
Now it was years after that happened. In fact, today was Harry's eleventh birthday. He continued to be friends with Ms. Rolling, but he wouldn't get to see her as often anymore, as he was now going to begin his learning at the Secondary school, Stonewall High. He had been accepted to his Uncle's old private school, Smeltings, but one glance at the uniform was all it took to say no.
Harry awoke on that morning with his Aunt carefully shaking him awake. "Harry," she whispered, "it's your birthday. Please get up." She did this as nicely as possible, not wanting him annoyed on his birthday morning. That would be bad for everyone.
He slowly sat up in his bed, yawned, then grabbed his glasses from his desk.
Aunt Petunia gave him a large (yet very fake) smile. "Happy birthday!" Harry gave her no response, instead looking out the window. "It's raining." His voice was completely even, with no trace of emotion in it, like a machine.
This alarmed her. The unspoken rule in the Dursley house was 'Keep Harry happy.' So if he didn't want rain, they would get in their car and drive him to a place that's sunny, if he told them it would please him. The entire family hated the red eyes.
"Yes, it is. I'm sorry. What can I do to make you happier?" She was ready to tell Vernon to get the car started.
But Harry shook his head. "I like rain. Can we please draw back all the curtains?" She breathed a sigh of relief, then nodded. "Yes, we can do that. Would you like to come downstairs for breakfast?"
He nodded, and followed his Aunt down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He could smell pancakes and bacon before he made it into the room.
Harry quietly grabbed a plate and served himself two pancakes and a piece of bacon, then sat down at the table, eating quietly.
Dudley and Uncle Vernon came into the room moments after, saying a quick "Happy birthday" before filling their plates with food. The house was entirely silent, except for the clinking of silverware on the plates. Aunt Petunia was the first one to dare to speak.
"Harry, your presents are on the couch in the lounge."
Harry looked up from his cleared plate, still expressionless. "I told you I didn't want anything." He said it in his even, robotic voice.
"W-well, yes, but we thought that you might enjoy some of the things we got you. And there aren't a lot, see?"
Harry knew that she was silently terrified that she had done the wrong thing, so he gave her a small nod. "Alright then, but if I don't want it, it will be donated to the homeless."
The three Dursleys all gave sighs of relief, which Harry began to notice they did quite often.
So, after everyone was finished with breakfast (they all started eating rather quickly once they realized Harry was done) they moved on to the lounge for Harry to open presents.
Aunt Petunia was right when she said there weren't many, especially compared to what Dudley usually got. There were four, the sizes ranging from big and thin to short and fat.
Harry decided to open the smallest one first, and was pleasantly surprised to see a professional box of colored pencils. It had a wide variety of color and a little booklet that gave tips on making a picture more life-like.
Ever since Ms. Rolling had told him he was a great artist when he was six, he had worked hard to perfect his drawing skills. Art teachers had begged him to submit some of his drawings into contests, but Harry had refused all of them; it would be too easy to get angry.
The next was the book The Da Vinci Code, which Harry had already read, but decided not to tell the Dursleys, because he really didn't want to deal with their panic and apologies. Besides, he read so often that he couldn't really expect anyone to figure out which books he had or hadn't read.
The third was a large set of oil paints, which were very tricky to use. The final painting could either look incredible, or like a child who had tried to copy a masterpiece by finger painting. He liked the challenge.
The final gift, the one that was big and thin, turned out to be a professional canvas. Something to use the oil paints on, once he had mastered the technique.
Harry looked up at the Dursleys, who were all looking quite nervous. "I am happy with my gifts. Thank you." He still spoke in his emotionless voice.
The Dursleys let out yet another sigh of relief, which was beginning to annoy Harry, although he wasn't going to tell them that.
"I'm going to take my gifts to my room. I'll be back shortly." He tucked the book and art supplies under one arm, the canvas under the other. He quickly made his way to his room, and set his things on his desk. Walking back down the stairs, he noticed the mail lying on the rug. They must have forgotten to grab it.
He picked up the different letters and looked through them on his way back to the lounge. Mostly, it was all junk mail, but the last letter he saw gave him a surprise. It was for him.
He didn't have any friends beside Ms. Rolling, who had already sent him a letter yesterday, wishing him a happy birthday.
The way the letter was addressed was even stranger.
Mr. H. Potter
The Smallest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
The envelope was thick and looked as if it was made of a yellowish parchment. Was this a joke?
Harry made his way back to the lounge, still puzzled by the letter. "Aunt Petunia?" he asked with the robotic-like voice (Do I still need to mention the emotionlessness?) "I think I've been sent prank mail." He held the letter up to show her, and both his Uncle and Aunt gasped.
"H-harry?" Her voice quivered as she spoke. "Can you give that to me please? Uncle Vernon and I recognize it, and it can sometimes be dangerous." She spoke slowly, being careful to choose her words correctly.
Harry handed it to her without a word. "Vernon and I need to discuss some things. Why don't you boys go do something else for a while?" They quickly made their way to the kitchen, and locked the door behind them.
Harry and Dudley were far too curious to not investigate, so both quietly put their ears against the door. Harry couldn't hear much of what they were saying, only parts of the conversation.
Aunt Petunia: "What do we do? We don't want another one."
Uncle Vernon: "…don't know…circumstances…might help"
Aunt Petunia: "You think...it stop?"
Uncle Vernon: "…not sure…worse or it could make…better. Still would learn…"
Aunt Petunia: "We'll write back…tell them he only goes…they can fix it.
Uncle Vernon: "…best, still don't want one…"
They could hear the conversation coming to an end, and quickly went upstairs. Harry tried to figure out what the conversation meant. They didn't want something, but they think it would help, and he would have to go get it, but he would only go if they tell the Dursleys that they can fix it. This was very confusing,
A sharp knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in."
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia came into his room, both with nervous looks on their faces.
"Harry," Uncle Vernon began, "you've been accepted into a school." This puzzled Harry. "I'm going to Stonewall. I never applied to any other school." His emotionless voice seemed to make them even more nervous.
Aunt Petunia thought it would be best to continue "Well, yes that's true, but they've had your name in their system for a while. Your parents went there."
This got Harry interested. "My parents?" Aunt Petunia nodded. "Yes, they both went there. But, before you make a decision, someone from the school is going to come here to talk to you, and tell you about where you're going. It's a boarding school, so you would only be here in the summer, and during the holidays, although you can stay there during Christmas if you want."
Harry nodded. "Alright, I'll talk to this person."
His Aunt and Uncle left the room, and Harry quickly got out a piece of paper.
Dear Ms. Rolling,
I've jus been accepted into a school I've never heard of…
-Line break that didn't show up in last chapter for reasons unknown-
Meanwhile, in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, quite a number of people were anticipated, nervous, and excited, all at the same time.
"Well, it's been sent." The headmaster of the school, Albus Dumbledore, announced to the group. "All we can do now is wait for a response."
James Potter was giddy with excitement. This was the first form of contact anyone from the Wizard World would have with him since Lord Voldemort attacked, and was defeated. His lovely wife, Lily, had died in the attack, while he had only been stunned, and Harry left with a scar.
Voldemort had stunned him hoping that when he had finished killing Harry, he might be able to use James to find out more about the Order of the Phoenix, and the auror department in the Ministry of Magic.
Although James wanted to raise his son on his own, with the help of his two best friends Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black, Dumbledore thought it would be best to let Harry grow up without being surrounded by the fame and, according to Dumbledore, it would also help him stay safe. James could only imagine what his son was like.
He had Lily's eyes, He thought, and my hair. The rest he could only fantasize about. He will be smart and brave. Two things both his parents had. I hope he has a sense of humor, like me. He could be the next generation Marauder.
The other adults in the room, including Sirius, Remus, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout, were all thinking similar things.
They all stayed in the office for a while, talking amongst themselves, and trying to figure out as much as they could without meeting him. "He'll be in Gryffindor for sure," Professor McGonagall announced, "with James and Lily as parents, how could he not?" Everyone seemed to agree with this.
"And he will definitely be talented" Flitwick said. "Both his parents were amazing with learning magic when they were at Hogwarts." There was more agreement.
People began calling out other things. 'Good sense of humor!" "Stubborn" "Good looking!" "Has a big temper!"
This continued for a while, until an old barn owl flew in through the window.
McGonagall was the first to realize. "That's the owl that was sent to Harry!" Everyone got out of their chairs, all wanting to see the reply letter first. With a flick of his wand, Albus Dumbledore put them all back in their seats. "I will read the letter, because all of you seem to be unable to agree on who will on your own.
He unrolled the piece of muggle paper, and began to read.
"Dear Hogwarts Staff,
We have not given Harry his school letter "What?" due to the fact that we have not told him that he is a wizard. In fact, we have not told him much of anything of his life before he came here. However, we would like for him to go to your school, and we would appreciate if someone could come and explain the school better to Harry. Before we send him, we would like to confirm that you can stop the strange things that happen when he gets angry. Harry gets quite upset with himself when these things happen, due to the fact that he has accidentally harmed people.
Eagerly awaiting your response,
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley.
Albus Dumbledore put the letter down and scanned the room.
"I get to go meet him! Dibs!" Sirius yelled. A chorus of "Hey, no fairs!" echoed around the room.
"I get to go, he's my son!" James exclaimed.
"Everyone, quiet!" The headmaster's voice boomed throughout the office. A hush spread through the room. "Professor McGonagall will go." The professor let out an excited gasp as James yelled out "What? Why?"
"Put yourself into his shoes. It would be frightening to have a man come into your home saying that he's your father, then having the man proceed to tell you about a world that you never knew existed. Also, I don't think you can handle the situation as maturely as Minerva can. And it's Professor McGonagall's name that was on the letter, not yours."
He had a point, but it still upset him that he wouldn't be the first to meet his son.
"I'll tell all of you everything I can about him after our meeting." McGonagall assured the group.
"You better."
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I would like to start out by saying thank you to my reviewers. I was so happy to hear your thoughts and encouragement. I am okay with any form of criticism, and I'm always trying to improve my writing.
I decided that I did want to have Harry's parents in this story, but some of my reviewers brought up the point that Harry wouldn't have Voldemort's soul inside him if his mother didn't make the sacrefice.
One of my reviewers, gryphenvoid, came up with the idea to only have James be alive. I really liked the idea. I hope I explained why Harry ended up at the Dursley's well enough, but please leave a comment if you think I forgot anything, or there was something I should have mentioned.
Thank you soooooooooo much for reading my story!
Like it? Hate? Continue it? Delete it? Read it. REVIEW it.
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