The day started like any other. The fact that it was July 31st had no impact on Harry. His relatives had never once celebrated his birthday. They went so far as to never tell him when it was and it wasn't as if he was going to ask them. No, in the Dursley household it was an accepted truth that Harry simply did not have a birthday. The fact that he did not have a Christmas or an Easter either was similarly overlooked.
As every morning Harry woke early to begin on breakfast for the other three residents of the household. He used this time when he was the only one awake to practice his magic. He worked to lighten the heavy pots and pans and the stacks of food he carried as well as cooled the handles of the hot metal pans so his hands wouldn't burn. He found these to be perfect for practicing his control. He couldn't simply float the items to him or above his hands, that would be far too inconspicuous, especially when Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon could walk into the kitchen at any time. Instead he practiced on making the items lighter. The same was true with the pans. He didn't want to cool down the full pan or the food within, so he had to focus and control his magic to just act on where he was holding the handle.
Once Aunt Petunia came downstairs Harry focused solely on cooking and stopped all magic. The risk of punishment was not worth the practice, not when he had plenty of other opportunities throughout the day. Food was served to the adults while Harry cleaned what he could. With Dudley still asleep, supposedly deserving his well-earned rest after working so hard during the school year, Harry couldn't wash all the pans as he would have to cook more later anyways.
With those chores done Harry next went to the front door to pick up the pile of mail and dutifully placed it next to his Uncle before moving back and silently waiting against the wall to wait for his chore list for the day. He kept his eyes on the floor, not wanting to be punished for 'staring at his betters with his freakish eyes'. When Uncle Vernon started choking and Aunt Petunia gave a muffled scream Harry almost – almost – looked up, but in the end he had himself too well trained for that. It wouldn't be the first time he was tricked into earning a punishment. No, he kept his eyes firmly on the ground and his body relaxed so he wouldn't appear to be eavesdropping.
"Boy! Get in your cupboard and don't come out until you are told otherwise!" barked Uncle Vernon in that tone of voice that said he was barely restraining himself from beating his nephew. With no hesitation Harry darted for the hallway and quickly slipped inside. Now this was not a part of the normal routine.
Not knowing what would happen Harry did what he always did when he was alone in his cupboard; practiced magic. He settled himself to sending his magic to different parts of his body, but not actively using it, just hovering slightly before returning to his core. He started with his hand, before concentrating to just a single finger. Once he went through each finger, he repeated the same process with his left hand. Then he moved to each foot and all of his toes before moving onto the rest of his body, completely unaware of the plotting occurring in the kitchen.
"How dare the freaks send him an invitation to their school! I won't have it. I refuse to let the boy run off and learn to be even more of a freak!" Vernon ranted with his face flushed red in anger. Only the fact that his son was still asleep and he didn't want the boy to hear the conversation kept his voice at a hissed whisper.
"Oh Vernon, what are we going to do? I don't want my precious Diddykins to be exposed to them. I don't want him to ever know about that world. But you know they are going to come for the brat and with that power we won't be able to stop it," fretted Petunia while wringing her hands nervously. As much as she hated them, she knew she was powerless against them.
Vernon's hands crumpled the fine parchment as his face turned even more purple. The room was silent except for the obese man's heavy pants of breath. Then, Vernon turned beady eyes to the parchment his fist and his lips twitched up into a twisted smirk.
"They want a response from the freak, well, let's give them one. Let the freak refuse their offer of schooling with his own hand."
Petunia smirked as well at the idea. Yes, it was perfect and so nicely ironic. If the freaks still came, then they could pretend ignorance and say it must be a prank from the troublesome boy. They would see him as the troublemaker he was. Yes, perfect indeed.
Harry did not trust the evil grin or the sick delight in Uncle Vernon's eyes when he opened the cupboard door and ordered Harry into the kitchen. Still, he followed obediently with his eyes downcast, wondering what new torture he would be facing. He was pushed against the table where a plain piece of paper and a pen was lying, looking far too innocent for the situation.
"You will write the words I tell you to, boy, and then you will get started with your chores. Oh, and don't think you will get out of being punished for lazing about on your bed." Uncle Vernon snarled nastily.
Harry didn't even twitch at the pronouncement, far too used to the unfair punishments. Besides, the worst of it was taken by his magic. The bruises and cuts he could easily live with. His only action was to pick up the pen and patiently wait for what he was to write. Not even the words, once spoken, caused him to react. He dutifully wrote what he was commanded to and stored the information away for later analysis.
As soon as the last letter was written the paper was snatched from beneath the pen by Aunt Petunia before he was given his list of chores and cuffed on the back of the head for not having already started them. Still, the strange events tumbled through his mind as he worked, especially the letter he was made to write.
I decline the offer of admission to your school. Please do not contact me again.
Harry Potter
Three days passed in relative normality in the Dursley household. However, that shattered on the fourth day just after breakfast with an impatient knock on the front door. Harry obediently opened the door to find a tall man dressed in black slacks and a black, long-sleeved, button-down shirt. Black seemed to be the theme of the man with shoulder length black hair and piercing black eyes that immediately glared down at Harry.
"Potter, go fetch your guardians. I have no time to waste," he sneered down in a dark voice. Harry immediately went towards the kitchen while pondering this new event. The man knew his name, yet Harry was sure they had never met before. Once in the kitchen, he pointed to the door to show that they were needed. Uncle Vernon laboriously pushed himself up before plastering his standard polite smile on and going to the door.
Reluctantly, Harry continued washing the dishes under Aunt Petunia's stern stare, the noise of the water running drowning out the conversation occurring in the other room. He was able to finish three more pans before a loud yell interrupted him once more.
"Boy, get in here right now!" Harry quickly dried his hands before running back into the living room. Uncle Vernon looked angry, but Harry could see the sick amusement in his eyes. The other man still had a sneer on his face, but he also appeared slightly amused.
"How dare you send a prank reply for your offer of admissions without even showing your Aunt or myself! We raised you better than that, boy! You will be attending and you will not receive any special considerations no matter how hard you try. Now, you are going to go with the Professor here to pick up your school supplies and you better not give him any back talk. I don't know where we went wrong with you, boy, but you will straighten up immediately!"
Harry stayed silent with his head bowed, used to the blame falling on himself for something he didn't do. He was however, beginning to see the link of what happened on the 31st. He wrote a letter declining admission to a school and three days later a Professor was present intent on making him go anyways, which was rather strange behavior for a school. He wondered if they came to confirm the accuracy of the letter or to try to convince his guardians otherwise. Clearly, Uncle Vernon claimed no knowledge of the reply.
"Let's go, Potter. My time is valuable, and I do not intend to waste my entire day babysitting you."
With a last glance towards Uncle Vernon, he stepped outside to follow the Professor. If he was supposed to get school supplies, then how was he going to pay for it? Did the school pay for supplies? That would explain why the professor was there. The possibility of the Dursleys paying didn't even cross his mind.
With thoughts whirling in his mind, Harry silently walked behind the Professor, having to almost jog to keep up. When they reached the park the man looked around quickly before sharply grabbing Harry's shoulder. The world twisted. Everything felt compressed, twisting, he couldn't breathe, and then suddenly, it was all over. With a thud they landed in an alcove in the middle of a busy street.
Harry's keen eyes immediately took in everything he could see and noted how extraordinarily different everything was. This was no modern city street. Instead it appeared to be something straight out of the olden-days with the cobblestone path and quaint shops. Words quickly flashed through his mind; cauldron shop, self-stirring, apothecary, spell books, charms.
Suddenly, everything came together. It all made sense. When he was first forced to write that letter, declining admission to a school, Harry's first thought was that he had been accepted into an advanced secondary school. Of course, he would never be allowed to attend something that put him in a better light than his cousin. Still, it hadn't mattered because Harry knew he would be successful no matter what school he was sent to. However, there was no possibility that Uncle Vernon would have given in and allowed him to go. It was simply impossible.
Now, Harry was faced with a much different reality. The Professor had just transported them from the park in his neighborhood to this street. The man had used magic. Looking around, it was undeniable that he was standing within a magical street. He wasn't alone! There were others that had magic as well. Then his mind went to the next obvious conclusion. He was accepted to a magical school. Uncle Vernon tried to stop his attending, but the school somehow forced the issue. Finally, there was the third obvious conclusion. Both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia knew about magic. They knew he would be accepted to a school that would teach him about magic and they had tried to keep him away from it.
Before he could decide how he felt about these revelations, the hand on his shoulder quickly dragged him away from the alcove and further down to a different nook between two buildings. Harry had to control his expression into his carefully blank mask before he dropped his eyes down once more. The professor was no longer wearing slacks and button-down shirt. Instead, he was in a high neck, black robe, that buttoned to his waste before flaring out and going all the way to the ground. He kept this show of magic in the back of his mind as an idea to practice with. He had never thought of changing his clothing to look like something else.
"Listen up, Potter, I am not going to repeat myself. Just because you thought you could get special treatment and have the school currying to your needs does not mean I have to waste my day doing so." Harry silently listened, hoping to get more information about what exactly was occurring. The man began to pull different items out of his cloak pocket and shoving them into Harry's hands. "Here is your Gringotts key. Go to the bank and withdraw money from your vault for your purchases. If you take too much out and get robbed, it is not my fault. This is your school list and I expect you to purchase everything on it. If you miss anything then you will suffer the consequences. Believe me, not having books or parchment will not be an excuse to not complete your homework. Finally, here is a map of the alley. With it you have no excuse for getting lost or failing to find an item on your list. I expect you at this exact spot at 4 p.m. and not a second later. There will be dire consequences if you make me go search for you." Suddenly the man held a stick out, pointing it at Harry's head. With a muttered word, Harry could feel the foreign magic layer on top of his forehead, right where his scar was. It was not a pleasant feeling.
"There, now you can't use your scar to swindle the businesses out of their earnings. You will pay for your supplies just like everyone else, I don't care how famous you think you are," and without a second glance the Professor stalked away with robes billowing, leaving Harry alone to wonder at this new world he was dropped into.