"Three favors, Teach. You owe me three favors. You're a man of your word, I trust?"
"Zehahaha! Don't worry, Doffy. I never break my promises. Ever."
Harry woke with a start, sweat trickling down his brow. He took a moment to breathe, forcing himself to calm down.
It's just a dream, he thought. I don't even know any of those people. It's just a dream.
He opened the cupboard door. He'd been locked inside for several weeks, though he snuck out at night to get food. He'd learned how to pick the lock through the door cracks, which had proved invaluable for his survival. The Dursleys had explained his absence from school by saying that he'd come down with a serious illness, even providing a forged doctor's note (where they had gotten it, Harry had no idea).
Harry wasn't allowed outside of his cupboard until the start of summer vacation. He hated it. The cupboard was so lonely and dark and small. It was better with Ace around, but even he couldn't help him escape that oppressive hellhole.
You have enough power to kill any who'd dare to harm you, a dark voice whispered. You'd never have to sleep in that cupboard again. You could have the freedom you've always dreamt of.
Harry shook his head. He didn't want to kill anyone, he just wanted to be normal, to have a normal family and normal friendships. Scaring someone into liking him rubbed him the wrong way. Wasn't that what those awful people in those history books did? He felt a surge of pride from Ace, but the man didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
Harry spent as much time out of the house as he could. Dudley and his gang enjoyed their little sport of "Harry Hunting", but Harry was quick on his feet and good at keeping out of sight. He couldn't wait for the new school year to start. For the first time ever, he and Dudley would be going to separate schools. This would be an opportunity for him to make friends. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too.
Harry sighed miserably. Do you think I'll do well at Stonewall?
You won't have the pig scaring away potential friends, said Ace thoughtfully. I think you'll do fine.
I hope so.
On the day after the Dursleys had bought Dudley's Smeltings uniform—which Ace had called "an abomination to fashion everywhere", a statement that Harry agreed with—they were sitting in the kitchen, trying to ignore the horrible stench coming from the sink, which Petunia was using to dye Harry's new "uniform". They heard the click of the mail slot and the flop of letters on the doormat.
"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.
He's actually making his precious son do something useful? Ace asked incredulously.
Just wait.
"Make Harry get it," said Dudley.
"Get the mail, Harry."
Ace sneered. He probably expected that. Bastard.
"Make Dudley get it," said Harry.
"Poke him with your Smelting Stick, Dudley,"
Ace snarled as Harry dodged the Smelting stick. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and — a letter for Harry. Harry swallowed, staring at it in shock. No one writes to me. Who—What—?
You should hide it before your relatives see it, said Ace darkly.
Harry nodded and discreetly slid the letter under his cupboard door as he returned to the kitchen. He handed the rest of the letters to Vernon, who tore open the one from Marge.
"Marge is ill," he informed everyone, "Ate a funny whelk. She's cutting her vacation short."
"Does that mean she'll be coming here to visit?" Dudley asked hopefully.
Vernon shook his head. "She's going to be resting at her own home."
Harry retreated to his cupboard as quickly as he could without arousing suspicion. He grabbed the letter he had slid under the door. The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. The most curious part, though, was how it was addressed:
Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
How do they know where I sleep? Harry asked.
Ace frowned. They'd have to have some kind of surveillance system inside the house. I can't think of any other way. The cupboard isn't exactly in plain view from the windows.
I'm going to open it.
Harry tore the envelope open. The letter was handwritten, which struck Harry as somewhat odd. After he read it, questions popped into his mind like fireworks bursting into existence.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
Is this some kind of hoax? Harry asked, his eyes wide.
It would explain the address on the letter, Ace mused.
What do you mean?
If this really is some kind of magic school, then these letters could have been addressed by magic, right? If that's the case, then no wonder it's so specific. Wouldn't want any mixups, would we?
Harry sighed. You have a point.
We should send a letter to this 'McGonagall'. Maybe she'll be able to provide more information.
What does the letter mean by 'We await your owl', anyways? Do they mean literal birds? Harry asked.
Let's write the letter first. We'll find out how to send it later.
Professor Minerva McGonagall rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. As much as she loved teaching, there were days when her job took its toll. She had a lot on her plate, and when moments of spare time presented themselves to her, she enjoyed them as much as she could.
A brown owl flew into her office, a letter tied to its left leg. Probably another acceptance letter, she thought dully as she opened the envelope.
Dear Ms. McGonagall,
I haven't heard of Hogwarts before. Is it some kind of joke? If so, it's a very clever one. Your letter even had my cupboard on it! If you're really offering a place at your school, I don't know if I could go. The Dursleys have me slated for Stonewall after all, and they're not the sort to change their minds easily.
Hogwarts seems pretty interesting, though. Thank you for offering me a place, even if it is an elaborate prank!
Sincerely,
Harry Potter.
Minerva's eyes narrowed as she read the letter. Harry Potter truly had no idea about his magical heritage? And what in Merlin's name did he mean by "his cupboard"? The letters were supposed to be addressed to their recipient's sleeping place! Minerva felt faint. The Boy Who Lived, sleeping in a cupboard?
She stormed out of her office and toward Albus's. "Chocolate Frogs," she said acidly to the gargoyle, which lept aside. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, scribbling away on a piece of parchment. Minerva cleared her throat, and the Headmaster looked up. He beamed when he saw her, his eyes twinkling.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Minerva?"
She said nothing as she placed the letter on his desk. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to slam it in front of him. Albus read it, and he slumped, the twinkle vanishing from his eyes.
"I assure you I had no idea about this," he said quietly.
"I told you that it was a bad idea!" Minerva cried. "But did you listen to me? No! I'm going to that house, Albus, and you're not stopping me!"
"You can go," said Albus, the twinkle returning in full force. "I daresay you may be the best option, considering this turn of events."
Minerva exhaled slowly. "You were going to send Hagrid, weren't you?"
"Would you care for a sherbet lemon, Minerva?"
Minerva twitched. "Albus..."
"I'm sure you would appreciate them as much as I, if only you'd give them a chance."
I must not kill the Headmaster. I must not kill the Headmaster...
It had been a week since Harry had sent that owl off with the letter. For the thousandth time, he wondered if he'd made some kind of mistake. The owl had flown down and offered its leg as Harry was putting the letter in the mailbox. He'd tied the letter to its offered leg, feeling very foolish as he did so. The Dursleys had taken Dudley shopping, so Harry had taken the opportunity to sneak the letter into the mailbox.
Post usually is pretty slow, isn't it? My old world didn't really have a postage system other than the News Coo. Honestly, it's pretty impressive, said Ace.
Didn't you guys use snails as phones?
I didn't say we had no way to communicate with each other
There was a knock at the door. Harry sighed. Probably one of Dudley's friends...
"Is there a Harry Potter here?" a crisp female voice asked when Vernon opened the door.
Harry felt as though a spark had traveled down his spine.
"You! I thought we were done with you freaks! Get out of my house, woman!" Vernon roared.
Harry opened his cupboard and crawled out. There was a woman dressed in emerald robes and a pointy hat. Her lips were drawn in a thin line. Her sharp gaze narrowed at him as he closed the cupboard door.
"What were you doing in there, young man?" she asked.
"It's where I sleep, ma'am," said Harry quietly.
The woman rounded on the Dursleys, her eyes blazing. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF HIM YOU FOOLISH MUGGLES! HE IS THIN AS A TWIG, DRESSED IN OVERSIZED RAGS, SLEEPING IN A SPACE NOT FIT FOR A HOUSE ELF. DUMBLEDORE TRUSTED YOU TO LOOK AFTER HIM. FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, HE'S LILY'S SON, PETUNIA!"
Vernon snarled. "We didn't ask for that freak to be—"
"YOU COULD AT LEAST LET HIM SLEEP IN A PROPER ROOM! MERLIN'S PANTS!"
Harry was gawking at the woman. He'd never seen anyone get that angry at the Dursleys before. With a warm feeling, he realized she was defending him. He cleared his throat. "Ma'am?"
The woman's eyes softened, and she turned towards him. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"Who's Lily?"
"You never even mentioned your own sister's name?" The woman spoke in a low hiss, glaring at Petunia.
"Why would I? I didn't want that freak for a sister! It's better that she got herself blown up anyways, even if we did end up with her brat—"
"You told me my parents died in a car crash!" Harry cried.
"YOU SAID WHAT?" The woman roared. "THEY DIED PROTECTING THEIR SON FROM A DARK WIZARD! THEY WERE HEROES! LILY AND JAMES POTTER DIED IN A CAR CRASH? HOW COULD YOU BE SO CALLOUS?"
This woman is awesome, said Ace gleefully.
"Miss? Are you the person I wrote to?" Harry asked.
The woman nodded briskly. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. I assume you have a lot of questions."
"He won't be going!" Vernon snarled.
McGonagall rounded on him. "That is not your decision to make, Dursley," she spat.
"I won't pay for any of it!"
"It's a good thing that his parents have already paid for his tuition, then," said McGonagall tightly.
"Tuition? What are you talking about? What does Hogwarts teach?" Harry asked.
McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled sharply. She looked Harry in the eyes. "You're a wizard, Harry."
Harry blinked. "A what?"
"A wizard. And you'll be a damned good one too, if you're anything like your parents."
Vernon started laughing hysterically. "Wizard indeed! We tried to stamp it out of you, we did, but it was useless! You're a freak, and you always will be!"
McGonagall turned to him slowly. "You did what?" she asked softly.
"You heard me!"
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA THE DAMAGE YOU COULD HAVE CAUSED? NEVER MIND THAT YOU'RE IMPLYING YOU BEAT YOUR OWN NEPHEW, BUT THAT! YOU'RE LUCKY HE'S NOT DEAD OR WORSE!"
Vernon's face went white, and he chuckled nervously. "I, uh, didn't beat him. That was a, uh, slip of the tongue. He's fine."
Harry remembered crying into his small pillow, his body covered in bruises.
Ace snarled. Why didn't you ever tell me?
Harry swallowed. It stopped when I was nine because the authorities were called in. I didn't think it mattered.
Because I don't matter.
Because the world would be better off without me.
Oh, Harry, said Ace sadly.
"If I have my way, he will never be coming back here," said McGonagall frostily, and Harry's eyes widened. "You have done a piss-poor job of raising him, though at least he escaped the damage you inflicted on your son."
Petunia froze. "Us m-mistreat Dudders? We would never—"
"Clearly," said McGonagall sarcastically, eyeing Dudley in distaste. She took a deep breath and smiled at Harry. "Pack your things. You're leaving."
"I don't have anything, ma'am,"
Harry swore he saw McGonagall blink back tears. "Then let's be on our way," she said.
"Why are you interested in that experiment, Teach? It failed. I have never touched it since. My theory was wrong."
"Was it, Vegapunk? Or is that what the World Government is making you say? Why are you keeping this quiet?"
I'll be replacing this chapter with a modified one that replaces the book descriptions shortly. The modified one is already on AO3