Chapter 3
Uncle Vernon had decreed that Harry would not be allowed to roam the neighbourhood or leave the house at all for the rest of the summer, and that he only had permission to get out of his cupboard to use the bathroom or to do chores under Aunt Petunia's supervision.
As a general rule Harry very much preferred breaking his back doing chores than being stuck in his tiny cupboard all day long, but he was eating so little that he didn't really have the energy for so much work and therefore he found himself missing his mattress whenever he wasn't on it. Besides, these days the time he spent in the darkness was not nearly as miserable or boring as it used to be, not with everything he had to think about now.
He had decided that he would go to the magical school and find other freaks or sorcerers if it was the last thing he ever did, but deciding it didn't make his goal any easier to achieve. There were multiple obstacles he was contending with, the main one being the Dursleys. Harry had had enough experience with them as to know that they would punish rather than support anything freakish that he chose to do, and that they would barely pay for anything he might need even for a normal school. Dudley's old rags that Aunt Petunia had dyed grey to become his new elephant skin-like Stonewall High uniform said it all.
So even if by some miracle —and Harry didn't believe in miracles— they were to agree to him going to a magical school, they certainly would not be willing to pay for anything in the list. Harry wasn't stupid enough as to even ask, just as he didn't dare to ask for their permission to attend. He would have to tell them eventually, but he couldn't see any advantage in doing so this early in the holidays when the only possible result was trouble. Better to keep this to himself for now so he could at least think and try to come up with a plan in peace.
Permission and money weren't his only problems. Even if he had all the gold and blessings in the world, Harry would have no idea where to go to buy magical equipment and books. He also didn't know how to contact the school to ask for help. There wasn't a return address in the envelop, and he had already checked while Aunt Petunia was distracted that neither Hogwarts nor any of the people mentioned were listed in the phone directory, so he didn't see how he could write or call back. The letter said that they awaited his 'owl' before July 31, and that sounded as if Harry had to confirm his attendance, but what did it mean by 'owl'? Was it code for something, or were real owls used to carry messages like pigeons? Where would he get one of those?
He had the feeling that he was missing something, some obvious secret that he needed to know about, but no matter how much he turned the matter inside his head he still couldn't figure out how he was supposed to go about this. Was it a magical test of some kind? Or perhaps if he went to London and checked all the existing libraries he would find one that sold magical books? Where would he find gloves made with dragon hide, though? And a wand?
This couldn't be real.
It was.
Harry had no money nor the slightest idea of where to ask for help.
He still had to go.
And he had the train ticket, if nothing else. If he didn't manage to contact anyone nor buy anything before September 1st, at least he would make sure to be in King Cross that day and to find the odd platform. It would be embarrassing to arrive to his new school empty handed and not even properly dressed, but Harry would get himself there anyway and he would beg them to let him stay if he had to. If they turned him away... well, at least he might have a chance to ask some questions before going.
One of those questions was how they had found him. How they had known he qualified for their school. Had one of them seen him doing something freakish in the zoo or at the school and decided to investigate him? Or had they magical means to find freaks? Were there other options for him if he couldn't stay at Hogwarts? Because that was a very likely scenario, thought Harry. Even if he somehow managed to buy the books and stuff, how would he pay the enrolment? Judging by the list and the fancy letters, Hogwarts was a private school, and very exclusive. Perhaps they had scholarships? Were there other magical schools —ideally public— he could go to? And how did no one know magic was real? How many people like them were there in the world? Why were they what they were? How could magic be possible?
So many questions.
And the most important one: how did magic work?
He was spending most of his cupboard time pondering that question. No doubt in the magical school they would explain him all about it, but Harry wasn't willing to wait until September to start learning how to use his newfound powers. Not when he might have need of them before then, to escape the Dursleys if they didn't want to let him go.
It was also a possibility that the other sorcerers would not let him stay at Hogwarts if he showed up with no money nor equipment, in which case he would need to learn to control his freakishness on his own, both to avoid getting into trouble and to use it to his advantage. Up until now Harry had never had any hope of getting away from the Dursleys before he was of-age, but discovering that he had weird magical powers had changed things. Even if they didn't let him stay at the magical school there was no way he was going to continue living in a cupboard if he had the power to object.
Magic was all he got, his only way out of this house, so learning to use it was essential. The school list said a wand was required, and Harry had seen —or heard from his cupboard— cartoons or movies in which wizards or witches did magic with some sort of stick or staff, but clearly it was possible to do it with nothing and he was determined to figure out how.
Harry closed his eyes in the darkness and tried again to feel his freakishness. He had no idea what magic was nor how it worked, but somehow he knew that it was inside him. He suspected it had always been there, an integral part of him, but he had never really noticed until the other day when he had jumped from the tree. Most of the times he did freaky things everything happened too fast or he was too angry or scared as to pay attention to any subtle feelings, but he was certain he had felt something different while soaring through the air.
He had... enjoyed it.
At the time he had been too busy fearing for his life so as to enjoy anything, though, which made him suspect that it had been the magic itself what he had felt. And if he was right about that, then he definitely wanted to feel it again.
Being able to feel the magic might be the key to control it, thought Harry. Perhaps then he would be able to reach for it without needing to be super angry or afraid, and to use it the way he wanted and on purpose instead of it coming out accidentally and unpredictably.
He wasn't finding it, though. Everything felt normal inside him. Well, normal sore and hungry. It would really be nice to be able to conjure food from thin air. Or to have a magical potion that made one not to feel the hunger or to not need food at all. Food would be better, though, a fat sandwich or at least an apple, anything...
Harry shook his head disapprovingly at himself and forced his mind to stir away from thoughts of food. He knew from experience that it was better not to think of it, and he also knew that he could go on for days without eating so he would be perfectly fine with only one meagre meal a day.
He focused again on finding his magic, or anything inside him that might feel weird. Had he imagined the sensation while in the air? Perhaps magic couldn't be felt. Perhaps it wasn't inside him at all nor was something that could be inside someone. It was magic, after all, no reason to think it might follow any rules of common sense.
Ignoring his hunger, Harry gathered as much concentration as he could muster and tried to relive the incident in his mind. He remembered the vertigo, the fear, the certainty that he would soon be mush on the ground, the decision to do it anyway, the hope that his freakishness would kick in at that moment of need. And then he was flying, soaring, unhurriedly making his slow descent to the ground...
Something stirred inside him at the memory. Something warm, sort of tingling and... hungry? Damned hunger. Although this hunger felt different than the regular one, more intense but at the same time more subtle. And Harry knew that food would not satisfy this craving.
He let the feeling grow and expand inside him, fill every last cell of his body with the same overwhelming need, until it became completely clear to him what he was craving for.
He yearned for control. For freedom. For power.
He wanted to feel again the way he had felt defying all laws of nature.
He longed to bend reality to his will.
Harry had no idea if he had found his magic or just his deep desire to use it, but when he opened his eyes in the dark he knew that he could blow up the entire house with a thought if he didn't keep a strict control over this intoxicating feeling.
The knowledge was both terrifying and exhilarating.
It took a thousand times more self-restrain that he would have ever imagined himself capable of, but somehow Harry managed not to lose control, and slowly, with jaw clenched and shaking all over, he willed a tiny bit of this overwhelming sense of power to manifest itself inside his cupboard.
And then there was light.
This chapter was posted on Mar 29, 2022
