LUX IN TENEBRIS LUCET (ORIGINAL VERSION)

CHAPTER 4:

THE LETTER, THE WITCH, AND THE KNIGHT BUS

July 1991

Harry had been waiting for this day for a long time. He knew from Voldemort's admittedly fragmented memories that children of wizards and witches received Hogwarts letters when they turned eleven. Voldemort, actually, had been approached by Dumbledore when he was a child at an orphanage. From those memories, Harry and Alma knew that Voldemort's real name was Tom Marvolo Riddle, and that his nom de guerre was an anagram: Tom Marvolo Riddle became 'I am Lord Voldemort'. But Voldemort was also aware of how other wizarding children got into Hogwarts.

Of course, it meant having to endure Dudley swaggering about in his Smeltings uniform, wielding a cane. But the Dursleys and their predilections had become more tolerable over the past few years, since that Christmas Day in 1987. Not that much, as there was only so much they could change without Alma going beyond scaring them, and brainwashing them or killing them. Alma really wanted to try both of those, but Harry vetoed it. Scaring them and pranking them was one thing. But making like Voldemort and all but using the Imperius or Killing Curses was another.

That being said, things were more tolerable around 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. Harry now had the second bedroom that used to be used, basically, as the storeroom for Dudley's old toys. He was still used practically like a house elf, but to go from a cupboard underneath the stairs to a ratty bedroom was a step up. And Vernon didn't beat Harry any more, though if anything, his bluster was even worse.

Petunia had the strangest change come over her. She still had that contemptuous air to her, but there was something else, something vaguely indefinable. Concern? Curiosity? Anticipation? Harry had a mind to confront her about what really happened to his parents, but decided not to. He wasn't sure how his aunt would react.

He collected the mail every day that he could without fail, sorting through it quickly and covertly. And one day, he found what he was looking for. A letter with the distinctive wax seal, with an 'H' stamped on it.

He managed to stuff it into his pants before the Dursleys could spot him. He brought the mail in and left it on the table for his relatives to read. Vernon looked at the first one. As it turned out, it was a postcard from his sister, Marge. She was feeling ill, having eaten a rather bad whelk. Harry found it hard to give a damn: the evil bitch often demeaned Harry's parents when she was here, and also brought around, on occasion, vicious dogs. Like that bulldog, Ripper. Chased him up a tree after he trod on his paw by accident. Marge wouldn't call him off. So Alma decided to take matters into her own hands, and drove the dog mad. Well, more mad than he was. The upshot was, the dog was put down, and Marge walked with a limp to this day(1).

Harry had to wait until he was free from chores. He managed to get out of one lot by saying he needed to tidy his room, and Petunia bought that. So he quickly went to his room and hid his letter. He then tidied his room (it did need a bit of cleaning), before emerging to continue his chores. He was still annoyed they treated him like a house-elf, a live-in servant who was expected to jump when the Dursleys barked.

He did know some magic and things about magic from Voldemort's fragmented memories. But even so, he had to be careful. The memories were tainted by Voldemort's view of the world. And as much as Harry hated his relatives' abuse and the apathy of most adults in authority, he wasn't stupid. Not everyone was like this. And in any case, the Dursleys paled in comparison to Voldemort, or Harlan Wade for that matter.

And of course, there was the little matter of the Statute of Secrecy and the Underage Magic Monitoring Office.

All of which meant that Harry bided his time.

Eventually, when it was time for him to go to bed, he took the letter out. It was addressed in a scarily specific manner.

Mr H Potter,

The Smallest Bedroom,

4 Privet Drive,

Little Whinging,

Surrey

He opened up the envelope, and read through it. An acceptance letter, and a book and equipment list. Voldemort's memories provided a location: London, Charing Cross Road. Diagon Alley.

But first, he needed to send his reply. The letter said 'we await your owl by no later than the 31st of July'. Owls carrying letters. Who knew? He didn't have an owl, but he would bet that one would be around somewhere for him to send a reply.

In his room, he took a pen and paper, and scribbled out a reply to this Deputy Headmistress. Then, he heard a soft tapping at the window. He opened it, and found an owl perched on the sill, looking at him expectantly.

"Do you want food?" Harry asked. "Or this?" He indicated the letter.

The owl bobbed its head, indicating the letter, and held out one of its feet. Harry handed it the letter, and said, "Take this to Hogwarts, please. To Professor McGonagall."


Professor McGonagall was tired when she got back to Hogwarts in the evening, having gone on several trips to Muggleborn family's homes to personally deliver letters to them and explain Hogwarts to them. She knew she would have to begin sorting through replies to the Hogwarts acceptance letters too, just to double check them before confirming the attendance of the students. She didn't want to do it, but she was obliged to do her duty.

So it was that, while making an attempt to whittle away the small mountain of reply letters, she was present when an owl swooped in with yet another reply. Her sigh of irritation when she caught the letter was swiftly silenced when she saw who it was from. She unfurled the letter, and began to read…

Dear Professor McGonagall,

This is my reply to the letter you sent me earlier today. This is a short response as I don't want my relatives to know that I've got this letter. I don't know whether you know, but they throw a fit whenever they hear the word magic, so getting a letter from Hogwarts will anger them. They kept me in the dark about magic: only another source told me of some of that heritage, and it's a somewhat biased source. While I could in theory get to Diagon Alley myself, I don't have much money, and the Dursleys wouldn't surrender any to me easily. Do you know of any scholarship funds, or whether my parents left me anything? And if so, could you help me go to Diagon Alley?

Yours sincerely,

Harry Potter

I knew it! McGonagall thought. I told Albus they were the worst kind of Muggles! Keeping Harry in the dark about magic is one thing, but getting angry over it?

Even so, McGonagall was perturbed. What was this source that Harry mentioned? Why was it biased? Did a former Death Eater know where Harry lived? Normally they weren't great on subtlety, but was one trying to seduce Harry into the mindset of the blood purity bigots?

In the morning, she would find out…


Vernon was taking Dudley to Smeltings for the first time, so when there was a knock on the door, it was only Harry and Petunia in the house. Harry heard the knock, the door opening, a murmured conversation, and then Petunia screeching like a harpy (about freaks not being welcome here) before slamming the door shut. But by that time, Harry was out of his room, and was peering down from the landing at Petunia, who looked up at him.

Harry glared down at her, and then waved the Hogwarts letter he had taken out of the room with him. "I know," he said coldly, taking a leaf out of Alma's book of intimidation. "Car crash? They were murdered."

For a moment, Petunia seemed set on berating Harry, before with a resigned sneer, she re-opened the door. "He's waiting for you," she snapped at the woman who stepped in. "Go and take him."

"Harry?" asked the older woman, a rather stern-looking one dressed in a somewhat old-fashioned dress. Clearly she couldn't go out looking like a witch with the pointed hat.

"I'm here," Harry said, walking down the stairs. He noted the older woman taking in his clothes: Dudley's hand-me-downs. "Professor McGonagall, I presume?"

The older woman nodded. "Indeed I am, Mr Potter. I got your letter."

Harry nodded in return, but as he made to follow her, he then turned to favour his aunt with a look. Petunia glared back. But it was she who blinked first. "Murdered, not drunk drivers," Harry said coldly. Then, he left with McGonagall…


The first real taste Harry got of the magical world was when McGonagall held out her wand. With an ear-shattering BANG! (though Harry would later learn that unless people were in close proximity to it, they couldn't hear it, and Muggles, unless they were attuned to the magical world, saw only a normal bus when it was at rest), a large, violet bus appeared. Triple-decker, of all things. A conductor dressed in a purple uniform strode out, a teenager with pimples and large ears. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, the…oh, hello Professor. Showin' another Muggleborn how to ride the Knight Bus?"

"Indeed, Mr Shunpike. How much is it to get to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"From 'ere? A galleon and five sickles(2), but…"

"We don't need refreshments yet, Mr Shunpike," McGonagall said. "But thank you for the offer." She counted out a gold coin and five silver coins to the conductor, and then helped Harry on board. She led him quickly to a seat, and then had him sit down, and hold on tight. He soon learned why.

As the bus screamed at ridiculous speed along streets, across fields, through traffic it shouldn't normally be able to get through (though magic was a great help), McGonagall explained (well, all but shouted over the sound of the bus travelling), "There are many methods of transport in the Wizarding World. We could have Apparated there, which is…"

"Like teleportation," Harry replied. "Like transmats in Doctor Who.(3)"

McGonagall didn't know what a transmat was, but she had heard of the Muggle television series. "Indeed. But it is very dangerous, and requires that you get a licence."

Harry reflected on one of the times his magic erupted, and he ended up perched on the roof of the school to get away from Dudley and his gang. He seemed to get there instantly. Voldemort's memories suggested Apparition was the case. He was lucky not to get splinched, that is, to leave behind body parts.

"Then, there are broomsticks, and portkeys. However, given that we must remain secret from Muggles, underage magic in Muggle areas is forbidden save for absolute emergencies. Technically, that includes all magical children, but magical families are given more slack. So the Knight Bus is probably your best option if you wish to travel to any place you need to. You'll need to make sure you have the money on hand." She explained the money of the Wizarding World to Harry, who knew it already thanks to Voldemort's memories. But he appreciated McGonagall's explanation.


The Knight Bus let them off in London, near a dingy pub called The Leaky Cauldron. "Charmed to cause Muggles not to notice it," McGonagall explained redundantly. "Now, please refrain from giving your name, Harry. Did you know you were famous in our world?"

This was actually new to Harry. "No, Professor."

"I will tell you the details later. It's a good thing that scar has faded somewhat(4). It's the most famous thing about you…"

What followed was a series of events that felt almost like déjà vu, for Harry had experienced something like it through Voldemort's fragmented memories. First, the trip through the Leaky Cauldron, where Professor McGonagall changed into her normal clothes, transfiguring them until she looked very much like the witch she was. Then, the wonder and splendour of Diagon Alley. Even having seen it before through Voldemort's memories, Harry believed that the real thing was better. All the sights and sounds. Alma was sleeping at the moment, or at least wasn't connected to his mind, and he would have to show her later.

First, Gringotts', and Harry's money. The bank was magnificent, though the goblins, and their poems, were intimidating. Harry decided that it wasn't a good idea to piss them off. Once his key had been presented to a teller, they were sent, with a goblin escort, to his vault. The ride through the tunnels on the cart was thrilling, and McGonagall was able to answer his question about stalactites and stalagmites.

He stared at the money within the vault, and asked a few pertinent questions of the goblin who accompanied them, Griphook. The vault was a trust vault to be used for his education, and as it turned out, there was another one, for when he finally came of age. Harry smiled to himself. The Dursleys used to complain that he stole food from their mouths, that he was a financial burden. Then, a scowl settled over his features. Perhaps whoever had left him with the Dursleys had paid them to look after him. And they still treated him like garbage.

After filling a bag with money, he was ready for a shopping spree. McGonagall guided him to Madam Malkin's first for his uniform, and then he was taken to get a trunk and writing equipment. He had wondered about ballpoint pens to McGonagall, who said that while taking notes with the Muggle instruments was not forbidden, it would make him a target by the blood purists. More than he already was. Homework and essays, however, was strictly parchment and quill pens.

After that, it was on to Flourish and Blott's, where he eagerly bought not only his textbooks, but also a few other books. He remembered something from Voldemort's memories, and picked up a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, to McGonagall's approval. Quietly, she suggested that he study his Potions text, given that the teacher, Professor Snape, liked to test unwary pupils on their knowledge.

Snape…another memory from Voldemort, and one that Harry didn't like. He kept his expression blank while he paid for the books. Then, it was on to getting Potions supplies. Then, Harry was brought into Ollivander's, where he made the acquaintance of the rather creepy, if relatively benign, Garrick Ollivander, wandmaker extraordinaire. He was the only shopkeeper who seemed to recognise Harry. He waxed lyrical about his parents' wands, moving closer.

"I'm sorry to say," he said, peering at Harry's fading scar with his silvery, pale eyes, "I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…"

"You mean…Voldemort?" Harry asked. Ollivander recoiled, and McGonagall flinched. "Sorry, sorry," Harry said. Voldemort's memories included how he put a Taboo spell on his assumed name during the final years of his reign of terror. Even now, he was spoken of in whispered euphemisms by most wizards.

What followed was a strange series of events. Ollivander measuring Harry with magical measuring tape, then having him try a number of wands, for a time that seemed to drag out. Eventually, he brought Harry one last wand. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, quite supple."

And that was the one. Instead of causing chaos and destruction in the shop (a mess that Ollivander seemed only mildly annoyed by), a stream of red and orange and golden sparks wafted out. Both Ollivander and McGonagall looked pleased, but there was also something else on Ollivander's mind. "Curious," he murmured. "How very curious…"

"What is?" Harry asked.

"I remember every wand that is sold in my store, Mr Potter," Ollivander said, fixing him with his pale stare. "Every single wand. The phoenix whose tail feather currently resides in your wand gave one other, just one. It is curious that you have this wand, when its brother gave you your scar."

Harry stared at the wand in his hand. Ollivander said, "I think we can expect great things from you, Mr Potter. The wand chooses the wizard. And You-Know-Who did great things. Terrible things, but great."

"Thank you, Mr Ollivander," McGonagall said, clearly unnerved.

Harry paid the man, and left hurriedly in McGonagall's company. "I think we will have some lunch," McGonagall said. "And then, I should tell you what you need to know…"

CHAPTER 4 ANNOTATIONS:

Sorry to fast-forward through the whole Diagon Alley thing, I didn't want to write the whole thing. I decided that the main reason Hagrid was sent to fetch Harry was because of the lack of replies to the Hogwarts letters (and Dumbledore suspected the Dursleys might get violent with a representative of the Wizarding World). But as McGonagall actually got a reply from Harry, she came, and thankfully during a time when Vernon was out. Dumbledore okayed it, but presumably warned her to be careful around the Dursleys. In this story, Dumbledore is a decent person, if a bit too utilitarian for his own good, as well as others. He sees the bigger picture too much.

Now, as for Harry and Alma having the memories of Voldemort, they have fragments of memories. Enough to know some things, but they don't know, say, where all the Horcruxes are. They know of the Ravenclaw Diadem and the Gaunt Ring, but the Diary, the Hufflepuff Cup, and the Slytherin Locket aren't in the fragmented memories. They do know how many he made, though. They don't know about Peter Pettigrew, either.

Unfortunately, knowing Voldemort's memories is going to bite them in the arse, especially where Snape is concerned: Harry knows that Snape blabbed about the prophecy, and thus led to the death of his parents. So Harry's relationship with Snape will be somewhat tense. That being said, having Voldemort's memories does not mean Harry will be a darker person. He recognises this person as the one who murdered his parents, and so takes Voldemort's opinion about things with a bowlful of salt.

Sorry for any Alma fans who want to see more of her. She isn't continually connected to Harry's mind, and they usually meet while he's dreaming. More Alma in the next chapter, though. I hope…

1. Aunt Marge deserves some karmic payback. Given that the whole 'Ripper chases Harry up a tree' thing happened when he was ten, after he met Alma, I thought Alma controlling Ripper and having him savage Marge's leg was a decent bit of payback.

2. I originally wrote '22 sickles', given the price in The Prisoner of Azkaban, instead of the price given in the scene in Champion (written by White Angel of Auralon), before I consulted the whole galleons to sickles to knuts exchange rate, and found it correct. In The Best Revenge, Snape uses Apparition to take Harry to Diagon Alley, and McGonagall does the same in Hand-Delivered Letter (by the dork knight), while in Champion, McGonagall uses the Knight Bus. I would like to think that McGonagall, given that she has to teach Muggleborn students about the basics of the Wizarding World, would teach Harry (who may be ignorant) about the Knight Bus. That way, he can get into the Wizarding World. McGonagall may not have as much time for her students as she should when she's actually teaching, but I like to think that she actually gives a damn.

3. I decided that Harry managed to sneak watching an episode of Doctor Who one night, while the Dursleys were eating out at a restaurant. In fact, I have the episode in mind: episode one of Remembrance of the Daleks, which features a transmat at the end, as well as the Doctor sabotaging it. It was transmitted on October 5, 1988.

4. The first hint that the Horcrux removal has worked.