Chapter 4

The Keeper of the Keys

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's favorited, followed, and reviewed this story! Over 1,000 views in 4 days! I'm so glad people are taking the time to read this!

With that out of the way, I'll move on to my note for this chapter. A lot of the story will be similar to the canon in the beginning. As the story moves forward, it will depart further from the canon due to the characters being fundamentally different, this will happen gradually, however, and you'll see some of that departure in this chapter.

Starfox5: In regards to the public school issue, I meant to put a note in my previous A/N that if I got anything wrong regarding British word choice or culture I apologized in advance. I have no concept of many of the cultural differences between America and Britain, having never been there : ). Please let me know if I make any egregious errors throughout the rest of this fic, I can always use more knowledge ; ).

Harry sat in his closet for days. Once a day his aunt would pass in food to him before relocking the door. He was allowed to leave to use the restroom once a day before being locked back in. This was not the first time that Harry had been stuck in his closet, nor was it even the worst treatment he had received; but Harry raged at his imprisonment far more than he ever had before. He sat locked in his closet, day after day, looking for any way out. He threw himself at the door. He tried to use a loose nail to pry the deadbolt apart, stabbing himself repeatedly in the process. Eventually he gave up on conventional means of opening the door and began to actively attempt the things he had previously achieved accidentally.

Harry thought of the time when Vernon had beat him for bringing food into his closet in his sleep. Through all the beating and the following solitude, Harry had never truly believed that the food being in the closet was his fault. He had no explanation of what had caused its movement, but he had felt certain that it was not by any effort of his. He thought to when he had appeared on the roof of the school. It had seemed vaguely impossible for him to have jumped that high, but he had firmly known that no effort of his could have caused the extraordinary.

The letter changed all that. Every moment of denying ability, every thought if impossibility, all these were remnants of a distant past where Harry didn't believe in magic. He sat in his cupboard, staring at the locked deadbolt that held him within the room. He gazed at the place to insert the key. He mentally tore apart the lock, imagining the place where key meets tumbler, the turn, the click of it opening, and finally his escape. He focused the whole of his being on somehow getting past this one obstacle. He pushed out with his consciousness, attempting to extend it beyond his own body, attempting to somehow make his will corporeal. Harry searched along the path of some natural feeling he possessed. He pressed down on his own mind, feeling as if he was a moment from success at any point, as if his ability was something that was waiting for him to awaken so that it may bend the world around him to his will.

Occasionally, the thought would occur to him that all of this seemed possible because he had cracked. He rarely thought on this, but thought it possible, even likely, that he may have gone insane. Nonetheless, Harry attacked the lock in his mind, attempting to break it with his mind. He sat there for hours, concentrating only on his escape. He turned off the light, hoping that his lack of sight would somehow make it easier. He had heard that when one loses one sense, the others compensate; maybe this was the same?

Eventually, Harry changed his method of attack. He began trying to move himself to the other side of the door, transporting as he had when running from Dudley and Piers in the schoolyard. He focused on his body, feeling out each muscle and bone, and focused on moving to the spot outside of his door, a place he knew very well. He thought about the slate blue tile with the diamond pattern that covered the floor outside of his closet. He thought of the pale green walls stretching to the white and grey striped ceiling.

Harry knew that hallway like the back of his hand. That hallway had been the main attraction of every fantasy Harry held when locked in his cupboard, weak from hunger and pain. The thought of escape had been what held Harry together in the moments between life. Harry concentrated on moving his body through the door and into the hallway. He held the image of that exit in his mind and attempted to push himself from where he was to the place he saw. With every moment that Harry concentrated he felt a growing pressure, almost as if his skull was being compressed. A tingling began in his fingertips. He suddenly felt an intense squeezing sensation around his chest and was unable to breathe.

Harry shook briefly and the sensations faded. Unsure of what had happened, but not wanting to repeat what he had felt, Harry again changed tactics. He began to focus on the keyhole of the padlock. He knew that there was a key. It was somewhere in this house. Harry hadn't seen it, but he knew it had to exist. He began to imagine the inner turnings of the lock again, not focusing on moving them this time, but instead focusing on filling the empty spaces. Harry poured out himself into the attempt of drawing the key to the lock to which it belonged. He threw his anger and torment into drawing the key. His hatred for the Dursleys, his desire for freedom, his hope of a better life, he poured his emotions into drawing the key to him. In the midst of a dark room, on a dark night, Harry emptied his emotions into one desperate wish.

After hours of this, Harry finally gave in. He slumped off of the bed he had been sitting on and wept piteously. The tears streaked down his face, leaving salty trails for those behind them to follow. All I wanted was to go somewhere where I could be accepted. He thought hopelessly. Somewhere where someone would love me.

"I guess that was too much to ask." Harry said angrily to himself.

He looked up to the empty lock, but it was no longer empty. Sitting perfectly nestled into the golden deadbolt was a silver key. Harry stared at it in disbelief. It was there, right in front of his face. He could get out. A moment of panic struck him. What if this is the wrong key? He thought desperately. He quickly grabbed the key and turned it sharply, there was a soft click as the bolt slid back into the mechanism. Harry began to weep again, not from sadness, but from an absolutely disbelieving joy. He had done it.

He turned and gathered his few possessions into a sack that once held potatoes. There were four shirts and two pairs of pants, all of which were too big for him; a small picture of what he assumed were his parents that he had found at the bottom of a box of photos in the Dursleys storage room, jammed tightly between a wooden sconce and the wall of the box, and the blanket from his bed. These few things were the sum of his possessions.

Harry pressed open the cupboard door and was about to sneak from the house when he had a thought. He turned back to the door to his cupboard and removed the key from the lock, slipping it into his left pocket. Harry quietly opened the front door and looked out at Privet Drive. He had no notion of where he was going, but he knew it was better than here.

Just as Harry's foot touched the step, he felt that same feeling he had been feeling on and off for several weeks. He felt eyes on him. He looked up to see a giant of a man standing a dozen yards away holding an umbrella and facing the opposite direction from him who was looking around in a puzzled manner.

"Number four… where is number four?" The man muttered to himself before turning around. As he did, he saw Harry standing on the step with his makeshift rucksack in hand.

"Who are you?" Harry asked. He felt as if he should be afraid of this giant man with a mess of tangled dark hair, but felt unreasonably calm for some reason.

"M'names Hagrid." The man said. "Keeper of Keys and Grounds at 'ogwarts. You look like you must be 'Arry."

Harry nodded slowly. "What are you here for?"

"Why ter get you to 'ogwarts a'course!" Hagrid said jovially. He looked at the potato bag Harry clutched. "You seem ter be all set ta be goin' somewhere as it is. Was you expecting someone?"

"No." Harry said quietly. "Just needed to get out of here."

Hagrid looked at the house and back to Harry. "'Arry, is something going on here? Summat bad?"

Harry looked up at the large man, unanswering. "Will you keep me safe?"

When he heard the question Harry saw Hagrid's jaw tighten and a dark look entered his eyes. "Of course, 'Arry. Yeh've nothing ter worry 'bout when yeh're with me."

Light suddenly streamed from the house behind Harry, bathing he and Hagrid. He turned and saw Vernon standing in the doorway with a baseball bat. Harry looked at him and backed several steps away. Hagrid watched Harry do this and looked back to the fat, pajama-clothed man in the doorway.

"Who are you!?" Vernon called out into the street before seeing Harry. "Get back in here you fool boy!"

Harry hid himself behind Hagrid's large frame and whispered, "Get me out of here."

Instead of answering Harry, Hagrid called out, "Vernon Dursley, what have you been doing to this boy?"

Vernon looked at the man, seeming to take in the fact that this man was not normal all at once. He was over seven feet tall, with long, dark hair and a round face. In one hand was an umbrella that he was pointing at Vernon as if it was a dangerous weapon.

"What I do in my home is none of your business!" he called out with a great deal of fear in his voice. "Now get out of here before I call the police!"

Harry shivered in fear at the thought of staying there any longer. He knew if Hagrid left, Vernon would try to catch him. He turned out toward the street and ran, sprinting with all he had away from Vernon and Petunia. Away from the cupboard. Away from the iron poker. Away from his fat cousin.

Hagrid saw Harry running and looked at Vernon. "You and I will 'ave words!" He shouted at Vernon before turning and running to catch Harry. Harry slowed when he saw Hagrid trying to catch him. He almost laughed at the large man's running gait, he was so large that when he ran it seemed as if a group of men were running together. Hagrid finally caught up to the boy and stopped, catching his breath.

"'Arry—child—did you get yer letter?" Hagrid said between breaths

Harry nodded. "I got the letter, but I don't have any money to pay for the required items. I don't even know where to find Hogwarts. And my uncle won't help me."

"Don't worry 'bout that." Hagrid said. He looked up at the sky. "It's the middle of the night, I'll take you summere we can bed down fer the night." He looked at Harry again. "And get some food fer yeh."

Harry looked at him. "Thank you, but…" he trailed off, not wanting to offend the large man.

"What is it 'Arry?" Hagrid asked.

"Well, it's just, I don't mean to offend, but why are you here?"

"I'm here ter make sure that Harry Potter gets taken care of. I was sent on personal request of Dumbledore hisself."

"Who's Dumbledore?" Harry asked quickly.

"Dumbledore is the man that's goin' ta be yer 'eadmaster Harry. He's the finest 'eadmaster that 'ogwarts as ever seen!" Hagrid said vociferously

Hagrid and Harry walked for close to ten minutes, becoming acquainted with one another. Hagrid told Harry all about Hogwarts, about how it was a school for wizards. He told Harry that it was his favorite place in the world. Harry asked the occasional question, but was in a euphoric daze that it seemed he wouldn't have to be with the Dursleys any longer. Eventually though, a thought occurred to him.

"Hagrid," he asked "how did I become a wizard? Does it just happen spontaneously, or was I chosen, or is it because someone in my family was a wizard?"

Hagrid stopped in his tracks. "You mean they never told you?" Hagrid asked quietly.

"Told me what?" Harry asked.

"You don't know about yer parents?" Hagrid asked

"All I know is that they died in a car crash, the Dursleys—" Harry said before being interrupted by Hagrid.

"Lily and James Potter killed by a car crash!?" He shouted. "They were some o' the best wizards of their generation! As if a car crash could harm them." He looked down at Harry and visibly tried to calm herself. "Yer parents were wizards Harry. Great wizards."

"Then how'd they die?" Harry asked, desperate for more information. He felt like in the last week his entire world had been flipped and nothing he thought was true had ever really been true.

Hagrid looked down wearily. "Come with me." He said, raising his umbrella to the street.

Suddenly a double decker bus appeared in the street as if from nowhere. Across the side the words Knight Bus were emblazoned.

Hagrid boarded the bus and a young man greeted him at the door. Harry quickly followed behind. "Hagrid, where are we going."

"Diagon Alley." Hagrid said to the conducter.

And there we are. Another chapter finished. Please review and let me know what you guys think. Finally, tell me if there's anything I could improve on. Thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you!

Where were you when I was returning the smile you'd had from the start?