Thump! Thump! Thump!
"Wake up boy! And get ready! Quick!" Harry was startled awake by Uncle Vernon's harsh voice. The command was followed by a few knocks on the small door of Harry's cupboard. Each hit was so hard he thought the door might break off from its hinges.
It wouldn't be the first time, and Harry was sure he would be blamed for it again if it happened. "I'm up!" he grumbled while looking for his glasses. Once those were safely on his face, he crawled out from his tiny bedroom. The house was in a flurry, Uncle Vernon yelling for Dudley about his lateness, Aunt Petunia in the kitchen, the smell of bacon and eggs filling the whole house and making Harry's stomach rumble.
It was Saturday, neither Harry nor Dudley had school that day, so he had hoped to sleep in for an hour or two before the house roused. Clearly, it had been too much to expect.
As soon as Harry stepped into the kitchen, Aunt Petunia passed the still hot frying pan to him, barely sparing him a glance. "Stop being useless, get the breakfast ready. Quick. Don't just stand there." She didn't wait for an answer before she moved on to do something else.
The whole morning was this barely controlled chaos. The Dursleys were clearly getting ready to go somewhere but nobody had bothered to tell Harry what was going on, leaving him to catch snippets of conversation and fill in the context as best as he could.
Not that it mattered much, Harry wasn't allowed to go on family trips, he'd probably have to stay at Mrs. Figg's house, with the horrible cats and the horrible cakes, having a horrible time.
Harry shuddered. And deep down wished he could be literally anywhere else for the day.
The Dursleys barely stopped to have breakfast, grabbing bacon and sausages as they passed by. Dudley stuffed a whole egg into his face, letting bits and pieces fall on the kitchen floor for Harry to clean. And Uncle Vernon did a valiant effort to stab three pieces of back and one sausage in one single fork without letting it fall.
At least the flurry of activity was enough of a distraction for Harry to sneak a few bites of food without anyone noticing, enough that he felt unusually full by the time breakfast was finished..
"Quick, grab your coat, we're not going to be late because of you." Aunt Petunia snapped while he had been piling dishes in the sink. She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the cupboard under the stairs, shoving him at the door, almost making Harry hit his head on the doorframe.
"Are we going somewhere?" He risked a question. Aunt Petunia made a face of someone who licked a particularly sour lemon.
"You?" She scoffed. "Why would we take you? To ruin our perfect weekend? You are taking care of the garden and the lawn until we're back. And it better be weedless when we return, or you won't eat for the rest of the week."
"Where are you going, then?" Harry asked instead, keeping his voice low and dull. On the inside though, he was jumping in joy. Could this really be? A whole day all by himself, without Mrs Figg's cats, without being locked inside his cupboard for hours and hours? He would actually be allowed outside?
"That's none of your business. Now go grab the gardening tools. Go" She shoved him towards the door and Harry had to try his hardest fight down a smile that threatened to form.
For once, Harry didn't care that it was the middle of october or that the weather was dreadful, cold with the promise of rain, he didn't care that his only jacket was a ratty old thing that barely kept wind at bay, nor did he care that weeding and tending to the garden would be a long, tedious chore, surely he could finish it in time to have some time for himself, right? Maybe he would have time to go to the playground for a couple of hours, he had wanted to go ever since his 9th birthday a couple of months ago, but Aunt Petunia hadn't allowed him to.
He just couldn't show the Dursleys his excitement, he knew that if Aunt Petunia caught a whiff about him wanting something, she'd do everything in her power to make sure Harry wouldn't get it.
He let out a theatrical sigh, like Aunt Petunia had just told him to scoop cat poop from Mrs. Figg's carpets.
Outside was cold, the trees displayed their orange leaves proudly, under them they had carpet that covered the sidewalk and part of the Dursley's front lawn, ready for Harry to start raking. With another sigh that didn't actually reflect his mood, he got to work, starting slowly, piling leaves, trying to ignore how each gust of wind felt like it was freezing his bones from the inside out.
The sound of the car engine revving was the sign Harry needed to know the Dursleys were gone. He watched the car get smaller and smaller into the distance, he had no idea when they'd be back, but for now, Harry was free.
He did a little jump of happiness, making some of the leaves he had collected spread out again. He didn't care, he could jump into space, he was so happy.
But he couldn't just go do whatever he wanted, not yet. There was a lawn rake, a garden to weed, plants to tend. He needed to leave things pristine for when the Dursley came back.
With renewed energy, Harry went back to raking. Piling leaves together, making neat, perfect piles and putting them side by side, until the entire lawn was clean to Aunt Petunia's standards. Only then, he moved to the garden.
It wasn't the worst chore Harry had to do, if he was being honest. He knew what was weeds and what wasn't. He had a certain ease to pull the bad stuff out that came from much practice. It was slow, hard work, and it helped to warm him up some.
It must've been a few hours of garden work when Harry's mindless focus was broken by an unusual noise. It started as a low rumbling that got louder and louder as whatever it was approached. A rhythmic clop clop clop accompanied something heavy made of wood that was dragged along.
The sound got closer and closer. Harry saw some of the neighbours peeking from inside their houses. The clopping was the hooves of a horse, a brown and blond strong looking horse that was pulling a large orange wooden wagon with a dark green roofing. It was an imposing vehicle unlike anything Harry had seen, with pans, chains, ropes, lanterns and lush green vines wrapped all around it in a way that should look cluttered and messy, but somehow managed to be purposefully cohesive. There was a rider at the front, conducting the horse with an ease that seemed almost magical.
That was the word Harry kept thinking as he watched the wagon pass by, magical. It was like something that jumped from a children's story and it clashed horribly with the mundane dull streets of Little Whinging. Aunt Petunia would be screeching if she so much as saw this stranger, the horse and the wagon.
So naturally, Harry loved everything about it.
As the wagon passed in front of number 4, Privet Drive, the stranger that conducted the wagon caught Harry's eyes. Without thinking, Harry waved, a small, friendly gesture that no one else in the neighbourhood would offer, and the stranger seemed almost surprised, but waved back with a cheeky sort of grin.
Harry watched it pass, eyes fixated on the large orange shape even as it got smaller and smaller with the distance. He felt the overwhelming urge to follow. Where was it going? Who was the conductor? It reminded Harry of the numerous strangers who sometimes came up to him with their brightly coloured cloaks, wanting to shake his hand for some strange reason.
The wagon disappeared from his sight after a while, off into the distance. The right thing for Harry to do would be for him to forget he saw anything, to go back to taking care of the garden. He could hear Uncle Vernon's voice in his head, sneering about freaks and their nonsense. The right thing to do, the safe thing to do was to ignore it all and not even mention anything to his relatives when they came back.
Harry carefully collected the tools he had laid on the grass while he worked. He placed them neatly by the garage, ready to be moved back in when the Dursleys came home. He eyed the pile of leaves and the flower garden he hadn't finished weeding and he decided.
Harry bolted. He ran down the street, towards the place he had seen the wagon disappear to. He ran as fast as his little legs allowed him, it was faster than Dudley and Piers, they almost never managed to get Harry, so he used that speed and he ran after the wagon.
He ran until he was out of breath, his chest hurt from trying to breathe too fast and he had to stop and rest. After a few moments, he started running again. He had to find it, it couldn't have gotten far.
Eventually though, Harry reached a crossroads. He looked at the splitting road, looking for a sign of the magical wagon and which side it turned, but there was nothing, the street was empty save for a white car that passed by him.
For a moment he stood there, trying to find a clue, trying to maybe guess where a bright orange horse drawn wagon could have gone, but in a place like Little Whinging? It'd fit nowhere, it could be anywhere.
The wagon was gone. Harry probably wouldn't see it again, wouldn't be able to ask who the conductor was. He felt a stab of disappointment, deep in his heart, like an opportunity had just slipped between his fingers.
With a sigh, he looked at his feet, at his ratty old shoes and thin, threadbare clothes. Back to reality then, he should really finish the gardening or Aunt Petunia might send him to bed without supper again.
Harry was about to turn around and leave, but before he took one step, something shiny caught the sunlight on the corner of his eye. It was in the middle of the street. Another car passed, barely missing the object and Harry waited, looking both ways to make sure no vehicles were passing before he rushed to grab whatever it was.
He stopped on the other side of the street and looked at what he had. It was a crystal of some sort. Green, sparkly and it looked like it had been carefully hand carved in the shape of a four leaf clover. When Harry moved it around in his hands, it was like he could see something shimmery inside. Like someone had managed to grab a handful of stars and put it inside the crystal.
It was the most beautiful thing Harry had seen.
It was also a clue. It had fallen from the magical wagon, Harry was sure of it, this meant it had gone this way. With renewed hope, he rushed in a half run half walk, trying to see any other signs of the orange wagon.
It was further than he usually dared to stray by himself from number 4, but he refused to give up so easily, he knew how to go back, he had only gone in a straight line.
And then, when Harry thought he must have missed it, when he thought the wagon had disappeared forever, he saw it. Large, busy, orange, with the horse tied to wooden beans, lazily munching on some grass. It had been parked on an empty lot with a couple of trees here and there. Harry was quite sure it was someone's private property, Uncle Vernon would've been grumbling about freeloaders if he saw it.
Uncle Vernon wasn't there, and Harry thought it was perfectly fine for it to stay in that spot. Nobody was using it, and it allowed him to find it again.
The wagon was just as magical as when Harry saw it for the first time, with the hanging lanterns, dangling bottles, the pans and vines and oh! There were little jars with colorful liquids hanging around the frame as well. For a long moment Harry stood there, admiring. The crystal he had found was clutched in his hand, the edges digging into his palm as if saying this is real. It is really here.
"Why, hello there!" Someone said behind him and Harry gasped, half expecting to see Uncle Vernon's angry red face when he turned around. It wasn't Uncle Vernon though, it was the stranger from before.
They were a tall, lanky person who was looking at Harry with a wide curious smile and bright green eyes. They seemed clean and well groomed, their dark hair slicked sideways, and they were dressed strangely, in a suit vest and pants that looked like it wouldn't have been out of place during the Victorian times if it wasn't for the bright orange tie that clashed with the deep blue colour of the suit. A walking cane complimented the whole outfit. Harry noticed their hands were marred by several scars.
Harry must've taken too long to answer, because the stranger flicked his forehead playfully to catch his attention "Didn't your parents teach you manners, lad? Generally it is good form to say hello when someone greets you."
"Erm. Hello. My parents are dead." Harry said bluntly, adults generally got uncomfortable when hearing that, but at least they didn't bring it up again.
The stranger raised their brows in surprise, but that was all, they didn't look at Harry with pity or said sorry like he was used to, it was just a neutral reaction. "Oh well, That explains it. Maybe." They cocked their head, making a very good impression of a bird. "Did you want something? I noticed you were staring at my wagon."
Harry straightened himself, this was his chance! "Yes!" The answer came rushing out, and Harry took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. "I mean. I saw you pass and you waved and everyone in Privet Drive hated it but I didn't! So I waved back, but I wanted to see it. The wagon! Up close. It's- it looks really cool-" He held his breath, the words caught in his throat before he let them escape, soft like a secret "and magical!"
"Yes! Magical! That's right!" The stranger said, smiling brilliantly. It seemed like Harry said the right thing.
Magic. Harry was forbidden to say that word out loud, his relatives would have locked him in the cupboard if they heard it, but it was the word that best described both the wagon and the stranger.
"Oh- and, you lost this. I found it on the way here." Harry opened his hand to show the beautiful clover leaf. He offered it back to the stranger.
"A lucky crystal! I didn't even notice. Did it fall? Lucky indeed, for you, who found it, not for me. Maybe it was Fate, she does that sometimes." They didn't take it though, even as Harry offered it back.
"You don't want it back?"
"It'd be nice. But I lost it, you found it. Not mine anymore." They shot Harry a happy grin, despite their words making no sense whatsoever. Harry didn't have the chance to ask more, the stranger started walking away, leaning heavily on their cane and with a pronounced limp as they walked. They took a few steps before they turned around and gestured for Harry to follow "Come here, then! Didn't you want to see the magic?"
Harry was quick to follow.
"There is magic in this here wagon, you have a good sense for it, Lad. Very good, indeed! I sell all sorts of magical artefacts! Potions, crystals, you name it." With a graceful motion, they hooked the curve of their cane to a small bench that was placed in front of an unlit campfire and placed it in front of the wagon's side window. They proceeded to undo several latches and locks from the window. The whole wagon shook as two shelves slid forward, revealing boxes and containers full of clutter.
Harry had to climb on the little bench to look. On the shelves there were necklaces, rings, crystals, vials with liquids, among other little knick knacks. The crystals especially caught Harry's eyes. Each one seemed personally carved in different shapes, with the same shimmery stardust he had seen in the clover leaf. He poked a purple one that was carved like a spiral, it seemed to almost glow with some inner light.
"That's a worry crystal." The stranger said from inside the wagon, looking down at Harry with their face resting on their hand happily. Harry noted they didn't blink very often. "If you're the type to get worried a lot, you hold that tightly and let it fill with your worry."
"And do what? Does it run out of space?"
"It does. It's just a small crystal. But then you can release it, focus it somewhere else, make it into useful energy. Very handy."
Aunt Petunia could use something like that, Harry thought. But maybe he'd need an extra large to carry all the fretting she did while worrying about what other people thought of her.
"Does it really work?" Harry asked doubtfully.
"Why, of course! Do I look like I'd lie to you?"
He wasn't sure, he didn't know them and adults lied often.
"Magic isn't real." Harry said with as much conviction as he could, repeating what had been said to him his whole life.
The stranger scoffed and they looked almost offended. "How can you say that? When you yourself have magic in you! Of course magic is real"
"What? No. I don't have magic in me."
Now he knew they were lying. Even if magic was real, it wouldn't be in Harry. Harry was not special enough for something like that.
"I know magic when I see it. You reek of it, lad." The stranger scoffed, "You have a lot of it. Maybe not honed, but it's there, it's there. Waiting. Believe me!"
If they were talking about anyone else, about Dudley or Piers, Harry might have believed them. The stranger did speak with confidence, like they knew so many secrets Harry was not privy to. But Harry was Harry. It was never him, he was not special, there was nothing magical about him.
"Well, You're wrong this time. I'm just Harry."
"Well, Just Harry, you are just magical too. It's aaaall…" The strange poked Harry's forehead, on top of his scar and Harry shuddered, it was like a buzz went through his whole body, starting at the scar and spreading down to the tip of his toes. "Right there."
"What did you do?" He put a hand over the scar, looking at the stranger suspiciously.
"That little spot feels- umm."
"Feels what? It's just a scar."
"I know scars. I've got them too! Very curious things, scars. They tell all sorts of stories, but they usually aren't very happy stories. So let's leave the sad stories and the scar stories for another day. I'm more interested in your normal magic. The one that is strong and all over you and that you definitely have, even if you don't believe me."
"Magic is not normal. And I don't have it."
"Not normal to you, maybe." They giggled, a light, airy sound that reminded him of chiming bells. "Never had anything strange happen to you, Just Harry? Something that mundane, normal humans would call… strange? Maybe even unnatural?"
"...I." The no was at the tip of his tongue, an automatic response that Harry was usually quick to give, but the stranger was looking at him with two luminous green eyes, intense, unblinking, like he could see through any lies Harry may say. He felt the words die in his tongue.
There were times that things weren't normal. Times where things Harry couldn't explain happened to him, like when he ended up on top of the school's roof. And the time when Aunt Petunia had given him the most awful haircut to ever exist and then his hair grew overnight.
Was that magic?
The stranger grinned "See? You just thought of something, didn't you? Magic. Like this!" They waved their fingers, closing his hand on a fist before opening again, and from their palm a butterfly flew off, circling Harry's head and then landing in front of his eyes. It was a bright blue butterfly unlike any Harry had seen before, it looked like it was made of glass, its body transparent and the wings a beautiful crystalline blue with pink patterns swirling as if they were alive.
"How…?" Harry reached to touch it, but just before he could, the butterfly exploded into colourful ribbons, turning into several smaller glass butterflies that fluttered away into the sky.
Real magic, right here, in front of his eyes. "Do it again!" He said excitedly, leaning further towards the stranger. Real magic. Not tricks, Harry never did anything like that. "How did you do it? Show me! Please!"
"It's simple really. You just have to picture whatever it is that you want and let your magic take shape" They made another movement with their hands and this time they were holding a small lizard- no, it was a tiny, hand sized dragon. It opened its wings and started flying. Harry could see pearlescent scales that shimmered green and spikes that looked like green gemstones.
"Whoa! Is that a real dragon?" He asked in awe. It was so small! So adorable!
"Of course not. It's just a trick made of magic. I don't carry tiny dragons in my pockets, that wouldn't be very safe, would it, Just Harry?" They laughed.
"It's Harry."
"Come again?"
"My name. It's Harry. Harry Potter. Not Just Harry."
"Oh Is that so? Could swear you told me it was Just Harry" They poked Harry's forehead playfully again and Harry got the impression he was being mocked. "You should be careful with who you give your name to. It might be taken. Lucky for you, I already have my own name and I don't need another."
Harry frowned, confused about what he meant by that. "You say so many weird things. What is your name, then?"
There was a pause, like they were considering if they would answer or not. "You may call me Leaf. Leaf Reeds, if you will" They bowed slightly with a hand over their chest and swish of their other arm. It was theatrical, over the top and Harry liked it.
"Leaf." Harry had never met anyone with a name like that. But he also had never met anyone who was magical. It fit the stranger, an unusual name for an unusual person. "Magic is real." He whispered, full of wonder. It was like the information had just sunk in.
It got a chuckle out of Leaf "Magic is everywhere, lad. You just have to open your eyes and see. But most humans refuse to see, they are so, so scared. And the ones who do know hoard it for themselves. It's sad, really."
"Aunt Petunia is scared. She doesn't like me saying that word." Harry said, it sounded like a confession, for only Leaf to hear.
"What word?"
"Magic."
"Your aunt is very silly. I also have an aunt, she taught me everything I know about magic."
"I think I'd like your aunt better" Harry let out a small laugh. He'd love an aunt who could teach him magic, or just… anyone who would. "I wish I could learn magic."
"Do you?" Leaf leaned over the wagon window, peering at Harry intensely "What if, for the low low price of giving me back the crystal I lost, I agree to teach you some? Not a lot, not mastery, our magics are too different for that, but… some pointers, mayhaps?"
"Really?" Harry gasped. They would have liked to keep the crystal, but for the opportunity to learn magic? It was a low price to pay.
"It's a limited time offer. You take it, or you don't."
"Yes!" Harry offered the crystal once again. He would have given the four leaf clover back to Leaf without asking for anything in return, so Harry wasn't sure why they insisted on giving something back. He'd take it though.
The crystal was delicately placed alongside several others of various shapes and colours, and Leaf patted it once, satisfied. "We can start now, if you want. Might take some time for you to learn, it's not easy, I will warn you."
"Now?" Harry bounced on the stool he was still standing on and almost fell. But time, it struck him that he had been gone for quite a while now, the Dursleys had been gone for hours already and they likely would come back soon. He didn't have time to spare, not today.
He huffed, and grabbed the hem of his shirt nervously. Would Leaf call it off if he said he couldn't? They were probably busy, or maybe if he waited too long they would change their mind.
"Harry? You need to answer. Now? Later? Just don't say never, or I'll have to give you back the crystal." Leaf's tone was cheerful and not unkind. Aunt Petunia would have snapped at him for taking so long to say anything.
But maybe it was okay, because apparently it was for the clover leaf… Harry wasn't sure how, or why, but he feared if he questioned them too much, he'd lose his chance.
"Tomorrow?" Harry said hesitantly "I have to go back… If my relatives find out I'm out. And talking about magic… I'll be locked inside for a month." There was bitterness in his voice, a sort of resigned bitterness that came from experience.
"Oh." Leaf sounded surprised, but to Harry's relief, they nodded "Tomorrow it is. You know where to find me, lad! Here. In this little clearing. I'm not going anywhere."
Just like that, easy, simple, like for once someone was willing to compromise, to listen to him. Harry beamed, and he took one of Leaf's scarred hands and shook it enthusiastically like some people had done to him before "It's a deal!"
"It's a deal." Something in Leaf's smile seemed strange, like they were laughing at a joke only they understood, but Harry paid it no mind, he was over the moon, thinking of the possibilities.
What kind of magic would he learn? Could he make things like the crystals? Could he learn something to fight Dudley and his gang? Harry could hardly wait.