Hey, AN: so a squib Harry fic, hope you like it. A big shout out to Jobob and her fic "Harry Potter and the Wait, Scratch That" for for giving me the idea for replacing 'The-boy-who-lived' with a much better, and easier to write name.
The Wizard Without a Wand
"Yur a Wizard Harry!"
Those words still echoed through the mind of the young man, only eleven that morning, that walked into Ollivanders' wand shop.
A WHOLE new world! Full of Magic and great and wonderful things awaited him. He couldn't wait to experience it all.
It had actually come as quite a surprise to him. His Aunt and Uncle, the Dursly's, had never once mentioned to him about being a Wizard or, more importantly to him, that his parents had been a Witch and Wizard, respectively.
No, all Harry James Potter had been told of his parents was that they had been drunks who died in a terrible car crash when he was fifteen months old. That his father was a worthless bum, who had never carried a job in his life. And finally: Do not ask questions about those Freaks!
That had actually been their name for him for the ten years he had lived with the Dursly's. All in all it seemed a little backwards: they called him a Freak, they made him do all the work around the house, they made him cook and clean and sleep under the stairs at night with hardly enough food to live on. To him it seemed like they were the ones a little bit… freakish. Not that he would ever call them that, them or anyone else for that matter; he knew how terrible a thing it was.
But, that was all in the past now. He had been given Dudley's second room, told that he wouldn't be working the gardens around the house as much either, and, as far as he could tell, they probably wouldn't have him cooking every meal for fear of the "freaks spying on us!"
In all honesty, if Harry was true to himself, he had never suspected a thing! Magic wasn't something everyone could do, and he most certainly never suspected anything. Magic didn't make his hair grow back after Aunt Petunia cute it all off, save a small fringe in the front: a deal of time, nearly a year's worth, is what made that grow back. And Magic had never saved him from being attacked by Dudley or Piers Polkiss, the two that terrorized the entire neighborhood and especially Harry.
The only magical thing that he could say that had happened to him was the one time he had talked to a snake, and that was only two weeks before!
… Well, that and apparently surviving some curse when he was too young to remember. There had to have been magic involved then! Apparently it made him, and his scar, quite famous in the wizarding world. The curse that the Dark Wizard Voldemort cast on him apparently bounced back off, and destroyed the man in question. It all seemed kind of wooly to him, but everyone believed it, so he guessed he did too. At least the name they had given him sounded… well, neat: The Electus!
So, after all was said and done, it was with a spring in his step that Harry Potter walked into the wand shop, beginning his first step down a very long road… just not the road he expected.
Walking into the small, dusty shop, long rectangular boxes all over the place, Harry scanned the place taking it in. Even so he was startled when a voice reached him.
"Ah, yes, Harry Potter!" seeing the boy jump and look at the man, who stood in a doorway to the back of the shop, Ollivander chuckled, "I have been expecting you any day now. It seems like only yesterday that your parents walked in here to get their wands. Willow for you mother, ten and ¼, swishy and quite good for charms work if is I remember correctly. While your father favored his eleven inch mahogany wand, a little more powerful than the normal wand and excellent for transfiguration. Of course I say he favored it, but it is the wand that chooses the wizard, after all."
By this point he was standing right in front of Harry, before brushing away a lock of hair and gently touching the scar that rest upon his brow, "And that is where… I am afraid to say I sold the wand that gave you that scar Mr. Potter. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great and terrible things with that wand. Yew, thirteen ½ inches." Seeing the startled look in Harry's eyes he patted the boy on the head, "No need to worry about it, young Electus, The Dark Lord has been gone for a decade now."
Clapping his hands together Ollivander pulled free a measuring tape like those used to measure a person for clothing, "Well, let us get started! Which is your wand arm?" he asked. Harry, not knowing which it would be held up his right, as that was the arm he writes with, "Excellent! Each contains a core of either Dragon heartstring, Phoenix tail feather, or Unicorn hair. Each Ollivander wand us unique, just as no two dragon's, phoenix, or unicorn or tree is the same." By now the man had walked away to grab a white box, his tape measure still measuring, even though the strange old wizard was no longer touching it.
"Ah! Here we go! Ash and Unicorn hair, a little stiff." Handing the wand to Harry, the man looked expectant… then he was frowning. "Give the wand a little twirl, will you?" he asked Harry, who waved the wand around… getting nothing. The frown on Ollivanders face increased before he pulled the wand from Harry's right hand and placed it into his left, asking him to repeat what he just did.
Harry himself was suddenly very nervous under the man's large, bifocaled, eyes. 'What if there was a mistake and I'm NOT a wizard?' he thought nervously, 'No,NO! That can't be true, I'm a wizard! I got my Hogwarts letter after all! And I'm the Electus, they wouldn't have named me that if I wasn't a wizard.'
"Mr. Potter? Tell me, do you have your Hogwarts letter on you by any chance?" the man asked quietly, pulling Harry from his nervous thoughts.
"Yes sir!" he said immediately, pulling the thick parchment out of the pocket of his too large pants, eager to prove that, YES, he was a wizard!
The man looked at it briefly, simply confirming that it was the right name, "Tell me, you were able to see the Leaky Cauldron when Hagrid had you in the street outside of it?" he asked once more, pulling free his own wand and waving it over and in front of Harry while mumbling.
"Yes sir!" then, in a much quieter voice, "… Is, Is there a problem Mr. Ollivander Sir?"
The man was quiet for a long few seconds, enough of a pause to give Harry his answer, "No, Mr. Potter, there is no problem… per say. You go find Hagrid and tell him that he needs to get a hold of the Headmaster before he takes you home. I will be contacting the man myself right now to get things sorted out first." And with a quick, "Off you go!" Harry had left the wand shop, back into the strangeness of Diagon Alley.
The poor boy was more than a little overwhelmed; he didn't know what was going on: Why didn't he have a wand? Why did Mr. Ollivander look so upset in there?
He did luck out a touch though, as he saw Hagrid walk into a shop just a little ways down from Ollivanders'.
Making his way through the crowd Harry reached the dark shop, the name sitting above the door: "Eeylops Owl Emporium"
In the front window he could see several owls looking out at him and the other passerby's. Taking a deep breath he walked into the shop, intending on finding Hagrid and relaying the Wand Makers message.
The inside of the shop was especially dark, and quite small. It looked even smaller with the giant of a man named Rubeus Hagrid standing in the middle of it all. Luckily there was only one other girl in the Emporium at the time, a slight red headed girl with her hair tied back into two pigtails, that was looking up at Hagrid in frightened amazement.
Walking up to Hagrid, who was using his height to get a look at the owls nearer the top of the store, Harry pulled on the man's thick jacket sleeve to no avail before yelling out his name, "Hagrid!" he called, making the man jump a little.
"Who said that?" he asked looking around before his eyes rested on Harry, "OH! Harry, you done then lad? Got yur wand you do? I was just looking around here for an owl for you, I was!" he said with a big smile on his jovial face.
For a second Harry was shocked out of his worry and self pity for a moment, "Why would you be getting an owl for me?" he asked, more than a little surprised.
"Why, for your birthday of course! You didn't think I wouldn't get you nuttin for your birthday Harry, did ya? Of course I would!"
"Oh!" he said simply, before remembering what he had come to tell Hagrid. "Um, Hagrid, I have a message for you from Mr. Ollivander." This got the man's attention, "Right, he said you need to get a hold of the Headmaster before you take me home."
"Da Headmaster?" the giant man asked aloud, wonderingly, "Right, well… did he say why?"
"No, but…" Harry stopped here, wondering whether he should tell Hagrid what had happened or not. 'Hagrid hasn't lied to me yet like the Dursly's did, I can trust him for now!' "Well, I didn't get a wand, he said he was going to get a hold of the Headmaster himself… Hagrid? Are there wizards that don't use wands?" he asked nervously.
The man looked down at Harry sadly, a single large tear sliding down his large cheek, "No Harry… you need a wand to do magic. Though there are people in the wizarding world who can't use magic… Come on though… Yur… Your Harry Potter!" he said, more confidently, "You are gonna be a great wizard Harry, just like your father was a great wizard and your mother was bloody great witch! Now come on, lets find you a good owl! A good pet can be the best of friends. Why I still remember my first pet, was a spider named Aragog… er, bad example that one. I kinda got in trouble for having the little guy!.
Harry couldn't help but think that MOST animals were probably little to Hagrid. Though, between Hagrid, who knew the shop keeper quite well, and Harry, of whom the man recognized on spotting his scar, Harry was able to get a beautiful snowy owl, whom he named Hedwig, for no cost at all.
It was later, back at the Leaky Cauldron, while Hagrid made a floo call in a privet room, that Harry's nerves came back.
What would happen? How would he go to Hogwarts without a wand? Was he a wizard at all? Worse, what if he had to go to Hogwarts anyways and couldn't cast a single spell! He would be the laughing stock of the whole school! No, the world, after all, he was apparently the 'Electus.' He had asked Tom, the owner of the Cauldron, what the word meant.
"Why, Mr. Potter, it's a Latin word. Mean's Chosen!"
That actually scared Harry a little: he was the chosen! And if he couldn't do magic? Then what was he?
The boy had eventually pulled himself up into a chair in the main room where he had been sitting, petting his new friend and staring at a bunch of pictures on the wall. He could only assume that they were famous witches and wizards that had come to the pub.
He could see one named Albus Dumbledore, a name he recognized from his Hogwarts Letter, smiling at him gently, and another with the name Rita Skeeter, a blond woman who gave a predatory smirk. Then there was Glenda Chittock, Gwenog Jones, Devlin Whitehorn, Derwent Shimpling, another had eight hairy men in the frame while the name read 'The Weird Sisters.'
Harry was finally starting to relax, looking at the different moving pictures, trying to remember the name's, when a young girl's excited yells caught his attention.
"Daddy, Daddy! Guess what? I just saw the Electus at Eyelops'! I was placing that order for the inn's owl's like you asked me! Then this HUGE man walked in. Not two minutes later a little boy he was calling Harry Potter came in too! I saw the scar, it really was him, the Electus!"
Looking over his shoulder with Hedwig, Harry watched the young red haired girl from the Emporium grabbing onto Tom the Barman's arm, speaking quite loudly about seeing him with Hagrid. Harry cringed when he saw a number of people look quite interested in this, more than one running to the entrance to the Alley, no doubt going to the Owl shop to try and get a look at Harry Potter, The Electus.
"Idiots!" he mumbled under his breath, cringing once more when Tom looked up and dragged, whom he supposed was his daughter, towards Harry's table. Lucky for the boy though that his high backed chair was facing away from them, due to his looking at the wall.
"Hannah, dearest." He started, in a kind, yet firm voice, "It's not nice to talk about people like that, whether it's Harry Potter or not! What would you have done had the boy been standing right next to me when you came in, hmm? Would you have yelled your pretty little head off like a fool then? What if he was in the inn when you let off that little spiel, how would you feel then?"
"I… I would have been so embarrassed! I'm sorry daddy, but, I saw him and I got so excited… And I probably would have ended up running off to my room blushing if he was right there with you." Then, quieter, though both Harry and Tom could hear her, "He was kind of cute too." Making a Hidden Harry blush lightly.
Tom laughed at this, "Hannah dearest, you can't go running in and out of the Cauldron yelling about people like that. I would have thought after the Weird Sisters rented us out for a week you would have calmed down a bit."
"I know daddy, but the Weird Sister aren't Harry Potter! I've always wanted to meet him, to actually talk to him… Then I saw him and froze up!" Harry could practically hear her blush, and did hear her face land in her hands.
" know that dear… I also know that he was here to get his things for Hogwarts. What would have happened when you met him at school like that?"
"Oh God!"
"That's what I thought." He said, before pulling free a chair right across from Harry, "Now have a seat, there's someone here I would like you to meet… I think the embarrassment your about to go through will be punishment enough."
"Embarrassment? But… Daddy!" she shrieked as he waved his wand, apparently sticking her to the chair, based off her attempts to stand.
"Now be good and don't make a commotion… Mr. Potter, I would be in your debt if you would spend your wait for Hagrid here with my daughter Hannah."
Turning the chair to face the table again Harry came face to face with a beat red Hannah Abbott. She was in his opinion, as she had called him, kind of cute. A slight girl, with a button nose, and her light red hair in two pigtails that rested just past her shoulder.
"Um… Hi?" he said hesitantly, coming out as more of a question than a statement. The girl only seemed to go a darker shade of red, "I um, I remember you from the Emporium… " he commented, putting an arm out for Hedwig, letting her sit on the table, "Did, did you overhear what me and Hagrid were talking about?" he asked, getting a jerky nod from the girl, who was now looking down at her lap. "You know you don't need to be embarrassed." He said, a little more boldly than he felt, due to the girls state of distress, "I'm just like you, you know. Actually, since your father seems to run this place you probably know a lot more about the wizarding world than I do. I mean I always thought I was a… what did Hagrid call em? A Muggle?"
This got the girls attention. As soon as the words were out of his mouth her face sprung up, her wide eye's staring at him, "But your Harry Potter!" she whispered across the table at him, for which he was thankful, "You're the Chosen One! How could you not know about the Wizarding world? Your name is known to every pureblood and half blood in Europe and every muggle-born knows who you are less than a year after coming into our world! How could you have been raised as a muggle?"
Harry actually glared at her, "Because, my mother's sister, and her family, hated magic." He said, getting a gasp from her, "And so they loathed me because of my parents… I… I won't tell you what they did, but they tried to prevent me from being magical at any cost."
Tears formed at the edge of the girls eyes, "But, but your Harry Potter, your-" he cut her off here, glaring again.
"The Electus?" he asked sarcastically, feeling the strain of the day on his shoulders, "Why do people expect me to be some kind of super hero?" he asked her earnestly, "I couldn't even get a wand. As far as I can tell I don't even have any magic! Get some other hero, because I won't do it!"
Her face, no longer as red as it had been, was slack jawed at that and he couldn't hear anything from her. For a second he was wondering if she had stopped breathing, before he heard gentle sobs and she hid her face in her arms. Hedwig bit him for making the little girl cry.
Mentally he was kicking himself, 'Well congrat's! You made a young girl cry!' he yelled to himself, 'Too bloody absorbed in your own problems you shove your foot in your mouth with the first person your age you might actually be able to befriend!'
He felt terrible, and only felt worse when the girl got up to try and run to her room, only forgetting the fact that her father had stuck her to the tall chair, making her flip it over.
The instant Tom Abbott took off the sticking charm, having been drawn by the commotion, she stood up and ran to her room.
"I'm so sorry, sir!" he said when Tom looked over to him for an explanation. "I just… I've had a bad day and was over here to be alone. This is my first day in the magical world and it's all so hard to take in. I just shoved my foot in my mouth and out my rear again." Sulking he put his head in his arms.
Propping the chair up again the barkeep sat down for a second, "Well Harry, I don't know what you said, or what has been going on to have you so upset. But, I do know that that girl there has always wanted to meet Harry Potter, a person she practically worshipped. I also know, that if you ask her for forgiveness, and you truly mean it, that she will give it. Think about this as a bridge burnt… But you know the thing about burnt bridges Harry? They can be rebuilt, better and stronger than ever. If and when you do apologize, she most likely won't be a little child looking up to a hero like she was not five minutes ago. She will be a young girl looking at a friend." Standing up once more the man stretched and cracked his back, before looking back down at Harry, "You just think about that Harry. And remember, a little child just hurt a girl's feelings… and not a minute later it was a young boy that realized his mistake and admitted it out loud. Do you understand Harry?"
It took the boy a second before he answered, "I think I do sir… I made a mistake and learned from it. I am sorry… if you could tell her that, and that I'll see her at Hogwarts, please?"
Smirking the man said , "I will lad, though I don't think she'll believe me until she hears the words from you." And with that he walked back over to the bar, pulling free a drink for an old man who was sitting there.
It was another few minutes before Hagrid came back in, looking rather worried. 'Right, part of the reason I snapped Hannah's head off. I'm a non-magical magical-savior!' Harry looked up at the man expectantly, watching as his new friend flew up to perch on the man's shoulder.
"Well 'Arry…"started Hagrid, more than a little nervous, "I talked to the Headmaster Dumbledore through the Floo… I'm supposed to take you to Hogwarts right away so they can see what's going on with yur magic." The giant man shuffled his feet nervously, "I promise you Harry, no matter what happens, you'll go to Hogwarts! Even if I need to apprentice you to me. I may not be the smartest man, but it takes a daft hand to do what I do and-"
The man's rambling scared the small boy a little, "Hagrid?" he interrupted, "What's going on? Why wouldn't I go to Hogwarts?" he asked, more than a little fear in his voice.
The large man knelt down in front of Harry, gently putting a hand on the boy's shoulder, "You gotta understand Harry, there are a lot of different kind of people in the world. Witches, Wizards, people like me who aren't allowed to do magic, muggles who simply can't do magic… but then there are those who are born to witches and wizards. Most are like their parents, able to do magic… but some, a very few, are what we call Squib's. They don't get the magic as strong as it could be, not strong enough to use a wand and magic. That's what they think you are Harry, or something similar… I know for a fact that you was doing accidental magic when you were a babe, making yur toy's float, and shocking ol'Peter something bad…"
Harry had stopped listening as Hagrid talked on, leading the boy into the Privet room where he had contacted the professor.
'A Squib? Is that what I am? Someone born to magical parents and born without the magic? Did the Dursly's actually beat the 'Freak' out of me? But… I thought I was going to be a wizard? I was going to finally get away from them?' it was like he had been stabbed, only worse. They had given him hopes and a dream, proved to him that he was special… and they took it away.
Harry dumbly noticed that the room, which had several tables and chairs, was utterly empty otherwise.
"How…?" he started to ask, his voice breaking before he could get any other words out, "How we going to get there?" he asked eventually, though the effort of doing so had broken the dam and he finally started to cry, sobbing as his knee's gave out.
"Shhh… Harry, it's gunna be alright!" he could hear Hagrid saying, picking up his tiny form, holding the boy against his shoulder, "Albus Dumbledore is the greatest Wizard in the world, he'll figure something out.
"But… But I'm not magical!" he pointed out, "Now I won't be a wizard and I'll never be able to get away from the Dursly's and… and…" he cried all the harder.
"Come on now Harry! Do you really think that you'd just be left alone with those monster again because you can't use a rutty wand? Hogwash! You are the son of James and Lily Potter, Harry; you are going to go to Hogwarts, cuz that's where you belong! Let's see Headmaster say otherwise! Great man that Dumbledore, but he isn't the son of James and Lily!" Hagrid waited a few minutes after this, when Harry's sobs started to go away, letting him calm down a bit, "Now wipe yur face off and calm down a bit, cuz yur gunna need to use the Floo for the first time."
"What's the Flu?" the boy asked, wiping his eye's with his overly large sleeve. "I thought that was a kind of sickness."
The large groundskeeper laughed at this, "Not flu, Harry, Floo! F-l-o-o. The Floo is the main means of transportation and fast communication between our kind Harry. Just take some of the powder in the jar next to the fire place and throw it into the fire, then call out ' Hogwarts: Headmaster's Office' then walk into the fire."
Walking over he took a nice handful of the sand like powder, "And it won't burn me?" he asked, looking back at the large man.
"No, No! Go ahead Harry, might get you a bit dizzy and I don't guaranty a steady landing, but it won't hurt you."
Turning back he looked at the low flame that burnt in the large fireplace, before taking a deep breath and throwing the power in, "Hogwarts: Headmaster office!" he yelled, closing his eyes and walking into the now green flames.
The next thing he knew he was spinning, being propelled forward by some unseen and, amazingly, unfelt force. It was like he was sitting there, midair, with no sense of falling and no sense of support either. He almost wished he had dared to open his eyes. And just as fast as the feeling had started, it ended, and the boy found himself taking three awkard steps before tripping over his own feet, having been spit out of a sooty fireplace and on to a cold hard marble floor.
Lifting his dizzy head and grabbing his glasses, which had fallen off his face in the ensuring tumble, Harry looked around the office.
Lucky for him, he decided, there was no one else in the room when he had come through, as such an undignified display would hardly be a good first impression to put on the Headmaster of, what he hoped would be, his new school.
As he was standing up Harry couldn't help but gawk a little at the office. It was a two floor room, with two sets of stairs going along two walls of that were full of books. Near to brimming they were. Between the two staircases was a single desk filled with papers and other such things that one would expect to see on the desk of an important person.
'Not Paper,' Harry noted to himself, 'Parchment. And no pens or pencils either, ink and quills… Oh bugger, I need to relearn how to write basically!' he realized, swearing internally. Taking a deep breath he continued his look around the office.
Behind the desk there were portraits; nearly three dozen of them too! He noticed that they moved like the pictures in the Leaky Cauldron did, though some were asleep, a few looking at the boy curiously, Harry even saw a few of them talking to one another.
"So this it the boy then?" "The Electus?" "Nothing but a tiny lad! Is he really eleven?"
That last drew a tiny protest from the boy, "Hey! I just turned eleven today, thank you very much!" he snapped at the picture, a rather chubby and balding old man, with a thick, if short, beard of grey. The picture flushed, whether in anger or embarrassment he knew not.
Looking away from the pictures of the old men and women his eye's drew to other things. Other than the empty bird stand there was a rather large stone basin, filled to the brim with a water like substance. Reminding himself that this was a school for magic, he didn't dare touch it.
Along both walls on the bottom floor were spindly tables with nearly a dozen delicate looking instruments of silver. Some of them whirled, others emitted small puffs of smoke, while one made a putting sound. He looked at these with a small smile until the fireplace flared green once more and Hagrid stepped out, Harry's trunk at his side and Hedwig, back in her cage, on top of it.
And not five seconds after the fire flared green did the door to the room open, revealing an incredibly old man dressed in vibrant blue robes, a long silvery beard falling down past his waist tucked into his belt.
"Excellent Hagrid, your both here!" he announced, walking over to the desk, "Minerva and the heads should be here soon."
'O'course Professor." Hagrid said in his thick brogue, reaching a hand out and grabbing Harry's tiny shoulder in his giant hands, pulling the boy to stand in front of him, "Let me introduce you Harry Potter. Harry, this is Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."
The much older man inclined his head a little, looking at Harry with a gentle smile on his face, just beneath his piercing blue eyes. To Harry it looked rather condescending. "Hello Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to finally meet you again, it has been far too long."
Harry plinked for a second, "When did we meet sir?" he asked, genuinely curious.
The old man's smile grew, his smile became less piercing and more jovial, "Why, I was there the day you were born Harry, and the day that you were brought to your family."
What had started as a happy thought, to Harry, ended at a rather low point, "Oh." Was all he said.
"Fear not Mr. Potter, we will figure out what seems to be wrong here and try and get everything as straightened out as possible." He said before looking back up at Hagrid, "You are sure there was no problems of any kind getting into the Alley? And he could see the Goblin's?"
"Yes sir!" Hagrid answered dutifully. "And I know for a fact he was doing accidental magic when he was but a babe, I was there at the cottage more'en once when 'e did, I was."
"I believe you Hagrid, never fear." The old man said, patting Hagrid's arm gently before walking behind his desk and pulling free his wand, an old looking thing made of elder wood, "Well, I am going to need some advice on this conundrum. Tell me Hagrid, did you know that there is no manual or text for Headmaster to read when they come into the position?" When the giant answered to the negative Dumbledore carried on, tapping four particular paintings, "No, everything a Headmaster needs to know is held in these four paintings that I am activating now. If ever there is something that a school head needs to know about the school or some such problem that the former Heads do not know, they consult these paintings. Good day Helga!" he said to the first of the four paintings to 'wake up.'
The portrait was that of a matronly looking woman, with dark red hair, "Headmaster? Why have you woken me? Is there a problem with the school?" she asked calmly, with concern in her voice.
"No Madam, I simply have a problem that is beyond my knowledge. So I have decided to seek the wisdom of the Founder's."
While Dumbledore went on, talking to the picture's, another two waking in little time, Harry asked his giant friend, "Hagrid? Who are those people that the Professor is talking too? And the other people on the wall there?"
"OH! That's easy Harry." He answered, crouching down next to the nervous boy, "Well that there, the first one, is Helga Hufflepuff, one of the four Founders of Hogwarts. The other one there, the bald man, is Salazar Slytherin, the other woman, who just woke up, is Rowena Ravenclaw, and the last, who's just starting to wake up now, is Godric Gryffindor. They were the four greatest wizards the world had ever known. The others there are the former headmaster's of the school." Hagrid pointed at the bald man that Harry had yelled at earlier, "See that one there, he was my headmaster, Armando Dippet. A right bloody fool that one was."
Harry blinked for a second, "What? I thought you had to be… well, smart to be a Headmaster here?" Dippet was now glaring at the two.
"Yes well, he's the reason I ain't allowed to do magic no more! Kicked me out of the school and snapped my wand without any proof 'sides the testimony of a single boy."
Harry was about to ask what the man had done to get expelled when the door to the office opened once more, letting in two women, a man, and… a dwarf? Maybe he was part goblin? Either way it was a male, and almost a full foot shorter than Harry.
"Ah! Excellent! We are all here now, let us begin." Announced Dumbledore after turning away from the paintings, which were now talking among themselves, when the door had finally closed. Wand still in hand he waved it once, summoning cushioned chairs for everyone there, even a rather large one for Hagrid..
"What is the meaning of this Albus?" came the thick brogue of the green clad woman, looking at Harry interestingly, "I have much work to do with the upcoming first years and meeting with the incoming muggle-born students."
"Minerva, my dear." Dumbledore started, holding a hand out pleadingly before addressing all four teachers, "Professor's Snape, Flitwick, McGonagall, and Sprout," he said as an introduction for Harry's sake, "we seem to have a slight problem of which I believe all four of you should be aware of concerning this young man right here. Mr. Potter, if you would please step forwards?" he asked, coaxing the young boy in front of the four adults.
"What," asked professor Snape smoothly, looking down at Harry strangely, making the boy shrink in on himself, "seems important enough as to break procedure and bring this… child, to Hogwarts before the rest of his year mates?"
"And why did you deem it necessary to awaken us Albus?" asked the painting of Gryffindor, who had only just woken up moments before and had not heard the explanation Dumbledore had given his other three companions, "The wards feel fine, the buildings foundation is solid, I sense that we're not under attack at the moment, and you're not dead. So, I ask again, why have we been woken?"
"Godric, my dear boy, it would appear that we have an issue with Mr. Potter here, and I need to hear from you four whether he is allowed to attend Hogwarts or not."
"And why wouldn't he?" the black haired man asked once more.
"Because it appears that Harry here, is a squib. More importantly than that, he is a squib, who was born a wizard and has since, apparently, had his magic removed, be it by accident or purpose."
"The terms you are looking for, Albus, are Severed and Burned Out." Explained Ravenclaw's painting, looking down at the boy with glowing eye's the color of bronze. Answering the groups unasked question the beautiful woman continued, "A person who has been Severed is, much like this child here, unable to use magic, though it is because someone or something has purposely cut them off from their ability to use magic. For a grown adult wizard it is, ninety-nine percent of the time, lethal and irreversible. As for the boy, he is has Burnt Out his ability to use magic. The difference here is that when one is Severed, it is done purposely, usually as a punishment of the most severe sort. Burning Out is accidental, occurring when someone tries to use too much of their magic all at once, or using it in ways it is not meant to be used. Some witches and wizards have Burned themselves out doing amazing feats of magic, even a few children who do so protecting themselves or others around them. I myself have only ever seen a single person Burn Out, and that was when old Belthazor slew the dragon without his wand… Tell me lad, can you remember any magic that you might have done, something wonderful? Or Strange? I'm sure it would have been noticeable even to your untrained eye's." she ended on a gentle note, turning her attention to Harry instead.
Harry opened his mouth to answer, though he could think of nothing to say, his brow creasing in confusion… He had done magic, right?
Seeing the young boy's struggle Dumbledore answered for him, sparring the poor lad, "I'm afraid that those of us who still live here do know what happened to Harry's magic. I was unaware of the possibilities of Severing or Burning Out a magical's ability to cast spells." Getting confused looks from the paintings, as well as Harry, the older man continued, smiling at the young boy, "To simply put it, when you were very young a powerful wizard was terrorizing the world. This man went by the name of the Dark Lord Voldemort." One of the witches present, the more portly Sprout, gave a little gasp, though everyone who wasn't in a frame visibly flinched or squirmed uncomfortable, the dark haired Snape even grasping his arm out of habit.
"Voldemort's reign of terror was just that, terrible. It has been said that even the Czar's of Magical Russia weren't as dark or sadistic as the Dark Lord was. For a whole decade Voldemort terrorized Britain and Ireland, even extending his reach into parts of France and Eastern Europe. And then, one eve, he disappeared." The man stopped and looked at Harry wonderingly, pondering to himself briefly until the young Potter asked him where Voldemort had gone, "That is the thing, Mr. Potter, nobody truly knows what happened to the Dark Lord, as there are is only one person who survived that night that he disappeared."
"Who, sir?" the green eyed boy asked, mystified and horror struck, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it said aloud by the man.
"Why… you Harry." The man responded, his eyes twinkling with an inner light, "From the little that we know of the night he disappeared is that he came to your house and… well he killed your parents Harry, first your father, then your mother… and then he turned his wand on you we presume, casting a powerful piece of Dark magic known as the Killing Curse. The only thing is, that it didn't work, Voldemort, who had made use of the spell hundreds of times, cast it upon you, only to have his curse strike back at him, leaving nothing remaining of his body or magic, his wand the only thing remaining, telling us that he was there…"
Instantly the boy's hands flew to his forehead, where there rested a lightning bolt shaped scar. Bringing his eyes up to the headmasters with an unspoken question, getting a nod in response.
"Albus…" Hufflepuff asked incredulously, looking rather wide eyed at Harry, "Are you trying to say that this… this child has survived the Killing Curse?"
Slytherin looked at Harry intensely, as if studying him while Gryffindor seemed to be ponderingly idly; Lady Ravenclaw's brow was furrowed and was whispering to herself brief bits of strange formula's and lore that Harry couldn't understand.
"Indeed, since that Halloween night Harry has become a symbol in the British Magical world, known to all as the Electus and spoken of by children as The-Boy-Who-Lived. And this, I believe, is the event that Burned Out Mr. Potter's magic."
For a moment everyone was quiet, observing the raven haired boy.
"Not his magic, Albus." Was the first noise, coming from Salazar, getting a owlish blink in response from the elderly Headmaster, "His magic is still there, probably weaker than what it should be for someone his age, but there none the less."
"But I thought you said it was burned out?" asked Sprout with a confounded look on her face, getting a roll of the eyes from the founder.
"No, you dunder-head, his magic is not burned out, because a person's magic cannot be destroyed."
"Now see here! She said-"
Glaring at the woman the man hissed out his response, "SHESAIDthat he has burned out his ability to cast spells… 'Incompetent woman, and she calls herself a witch, let alone a professor at MY school?'"
Frowning at the man, who he internally thought was being very rude, he asked, "So then… I am a wizard?"
"Ha! No, child, you are still very much a squib." Was the decisive and condescending tone of, not Slytherin, but Gryffindor, "I assure you, besides a few left over gifts from your brief stint as a magical being, you have no magic at all!"
Getting angry now the young Potter boy glared at the painting, "That's not true!" he yelled, his green eyes burning as he looked at the sneering founder, "I CAN do magic!"
"Harry…" was the calming tone of the Headmaster, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder, "If your ability to do magic was destroyed, then I'm afraid Godric is right."
"But…" was the boys defenseless cry, "But I have done magic, just two weeks ago!"
"Please!" came a snort from both Godric and the dark haired professor.
"Severus!, please!" came the Dumbledore, glaring at the professor, "Let the boy speak." More gently then he asked Harry, looking into his eye's, "What did you do that you think was magic?"
Looking at the professor, eye's burning from holding back tears, he answered in a small voice, "I spoke to a snake on my cousin's birthday."
This seemed to shut everyone up, though their mouths all opened, save for three fourths of the Founders.
"'Truly boy? How did it happen, tell us about it?'" Slytherin asked him, getting odd looks from the teachers in the room, to Harry's befuddlement, "'Look at me as you tell us, speak only to me.'"
Confused, and looking so, Harry did as requested, relaying to the founder how he had gotten to go to the zoo, and the boa that he had seen there, speaking to it and learning it had been bred in captivity rather than out in the wild.
"Amazing boy, simply amazing!" the founder congratulated him, his eye's practically glowing with pride at Harry, "Another true Parseltongue… The boy has MY vote to stay in the school, no matter what his ancestry."
Looking around the room Harry took in the faces, an angry Gryffindor, several pale professor's, and a contemplative Headmaster and Founders. "What did I do?" he asked, "What is a Parseltongue?"
It was a minute before anyone spoke and by the time they did he had been tempted to ask again, "A Parseltongue, Potter," was Snape's response, "is a powerful gift that is passed down through a person's bloodline, giving them the ability to speak to all serpents, even granting some small form of control over them."
Harry wasn't satisfied with that answer though, "What aren't you telling me about it?" he asked, looking to the Headmaster and Salazar, one of whom was silent, the other just grinning evilly, "What is it?"
"Voldemort" Dumbledore announced, making the professors jump, "was a Parseltongue. He was a very Dark Wizard and an Heir of Slytherin… and because of him many consider it a Dark Gift, rather than just another magical ability… Truth be told I am not so uncertain that it isn't a Dark ability, as the one other time that I spoke to Salazar and mentioned it, he refused to comment." Dumbledore Glared at the painting, getting a hissing response that Harry could understand.
"'Find my Chamber of Secret's, Heir, and all shall be revealed. Only there will I feel safe enough to speak to you of our legacy, only there will your true power to uncovered. So was this spoken to me, so I speaketh to thou, Find my Chamber of Secret's, and all shall be revealed.'" The old painting winked at the boy then, "'Just try not to let these Dunderheads know what I said.'"
"While I find this all very entertaining." Godric interrupted angrily, "It has nothing to do with the fact that, while one gift of magic seeped through, the boy is simply not a wizard anymore and CANNOT attend Hogwarts!"
"Please!" Hufflepuff snorted, "The boy is every bit as magical as you or me, he simply cannot cast spells!"
"Indeed, while I am loath to agree with a Gryffindor, let alone the first one, I must say that not being able to do magic will pretty much prevent the boy from attending."
"Hush child!" was Ravenclaw, looking down at the professor with scolding eyes, "The adults are trying to speak." This made the man flush in anger, though the blue clad woman barely noticed, "Now how will a little thing like that prevent him from attending? Three classes, three, that is all that actually requires a wand. Defense, Transfiguration, and Charms. Provided the Care for Magical Creatures class is still taught to proper way, which it is, yes?" she said, looking over at Dumbledore who nodded graciously, "Well there you go then!"
"NO! No, no, no!" was Godric's response, "I will sooner crash the wards than allow a magicless student walk these Hollowed Halls!"
"Lucky for us then, that you cannot touch the wards if the three of us wish you not to." Slytherin responded with a smirk, "Besides, you never traveled as far as me or Rowena here. For most wizards, losing the ability to cast spells is the end for them, but for one as young as Harold here… There are alternative magic's that he can use that will make him as good a wizard as there ever was."
"Oh?" came the general question from all save Ravenclaw and Slytherin himself.
"Tell me, who here has ever heard of Legilimency?" the man asked, making Snape sit up a little taller, "I see, or Occlumency? Pyromancy and Telemancy? Animagi or Metamorophmagi? Parseltongue, Rune's, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Astrology, Aural Compulsion's, Meteorology, Illusionary powers, History, Potion's, low level Alchemy, most Herbology, FENCING! The boy is FAR from being unable to learn anything here, Not to mention that, even if he cannot cast a spell, does not mean he cannot learn to recognize one, or even learn other ways defend against them!"
Glarring that the other three paintings, two of whom were looking at Salazar impressed, he said his final piece, "And I quote: 'All one needs is a mind, the ability to see magic, and an acceptance letter to attend Hogwarts.' If you three shoved that down MY throat a thousand years ago, then I get to shove it down HIS now!"
Getting a few, "Here here! " from the two female paintings Salazar looked over at Gryffindor's painting, lifting a questioning eyebrow, "Fine!" the former man growled out, before turning his now glowing golden eyes to Harry, "But I shall be watch you young Potter. If you come to this school then I will be watching you, waiting for you to make a mistake. I may not care about the blood that runs through your vein's, but I have seen what those without magic do to those with it, and I shall defend my castle even after my own death!" and with that the man stalked out of his portrait, wandering off to a different painting not in the room.
"Well then!" came Dumbledore's surprised interruption, looking over the remaining gathered warily, "While I alone reserve judgment on whether Harry may attend of not at this point, I believe I shall aim for a general consensus. So heads of house, what say you?"
"Absolutely not!" was Snape's only remark, knowing he was going to be outvoted anyway.
"Of course, of course!" was Flitwick's response, looking quite excited, "Remarkable, I've learned more here than I have in the past year of study alone. Watching the development of young Harry here will be quite remarkable… I'm not even sure I am familiar with all the different forms of magic that Salazar mentioned, I look forward to finding out more of this… Meteorology, quite soon. I DO love a good meteor shower! And do be sure to let me help with your research Mr. Potter, no matter what you do…!"
Professor Sprout looked at the boy more wonderingly, "A child, born into magic, losing his parents and then having his power just out of reach, without touching it for ten years… I cannot begin to wonder what it is like… And yet you are here and may lose the ability to effectively join the magical world now… Hard work has brought you here Mr. Potter, and now we shall see if hard work will be enough. You have my approval, though I pray it is the right thing to do."
Lastly was the green clad Professor McGonagall. She took a single long look at the boy, making him slightly uncomfortable, before nodding her head, "You have your father's hair and chin, but the cheeks and eye's… the eye's are all Lily's… I would very much like to have you here Mr. Potter." Harry smiled at this, "I vote against having him join Hogwarts." And his smile was gone, looking at her with wide eyes. "You are your parents child… and just like I would hate to see them suffer, I do not want to see you suffer, as I know you would, no matter what house you were placed in. The magical world we live in now is not a nice one, despite what some would say. I am sorry Mr. Potter."
Turning his eyes to the Headmaster, Harry looked on and waited with baited breath…
"What, Mr. Potter, would you do if I said no? Professor McGonagall does bring up some valid points, as did Godric. You would be missing three classes, all of which you would be unable to fully participate in. On top of that you would need to hire special tutors to teach you alternative magic's that Salazar mention, since most of those are not offered to students here. Not to mention what others would say or do because you do not have magic… Are you willing to risk all of that heart ache and go through all of that work when you do not even know what the end result will be?"
Harry was quiet for a few moments, wondering what he should say, looking at each person and painting in the room one by one…
"I have to professor." He answered with downcast eyes, "I… I AM magical, and I don't know what waits for me if I don't come here to learn either." Looking up at the kindly old man he spoke with more passion than a child should have, "I guess… I guess when you look at my magic, you see a burnt bridge. I can't cross it anymore to cast spells. But the thing about burnt bridges is, they can be rebuilt, and it doesn't have to be the same way either. Just because I can't cast spells, doesn't mean I can't use my magic, like Mr. Slytherin said, I just have to use it a different way, built stronger than it was before."
And that was all he had to say, though everyone, even professor Snape, looked impressed by what he had said. Eventually Albus answered, looking at Harry with kind eye's, "That was a very wise thing to say Harry." He said, making the boy blush in embarrassment, "Very wise and very true… Did you know that the root word for the word wizard is Wise… and I have a feeling, Mr. Potter, that you will be a very good wizard one day."
"Welcome," the Headmaster said, standing and offering his hand to the young man, "To Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry!"