Albus Dumbledore handed Harry a narrow slip of yellowed parchment.
"Read it, Harry. Not out loud."
Harry glanced down at the parchment, utterly confused.
The home of Harry Potter may be found at No. 4 ½, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey
At first nothing happened. Harry looked around, glanced once more at the note, and then back at Dumbledore.
Suddenly the ground beneath them shifted. A deep, trembling rumble of concrete scraping against stone thundered. Directly in front of them the pavement expanded, interval adding upon interval as if unfolding from thin air. As the street slowly emerged, a house seemed to grow out of the left side of Dursley's home, like a reflection in still water. It was of identical construction structurally, but the presentation of the home had shifted dramatically. The front door was no longer a uniform rectangle, but arched, crafted from a single cut of dark stained wood, etched cunningly in an ancient floral style, with a seamless porthole just above shoulder height. The windows were wider and taller, and the exterior brick was painted white. The house was lined not with a picket fence, but with a waist-high hedge of the deepest green. And the path toward the front door wasn't concrete pavement, but a charcoal gray stone walkway.
Dumbledore wore a satisfied smile. "This is No. 4 ½, Privet Drive. Welcome to your new home, Harry."
Harry was dumbstruck, his feet rooted to the ground beneath him as the headmaster took a step toward the front door of the home that had, just a moment before, appeared out of nowhere.
Dumbledore looked back, recognized this immediately, and stopped mid-stride to explain.
"Ah." He wore a patient, affectionate smile. "I see you're confused. Let me explain."
Dumbledore settled himself, gathering his thoughts. "As soon as I was aware of the nature of your living situation, I began to explore alternative accommodations. You needed a home, Harry — a safe place — because you've never had one. And yet, at that moment, I was faced with a dilemma."
He paused, his furrowed brow exuding compassion and a distant sense of loss. "You see, your mother, quite a clever and powerful witch in her own right, cast a number of powerful wards on No. 4 Privet Drive. Her sister and she were estranged, but she was aware of Voldemort's vindictive hate, and she loved her sister despite her prejudices."
"And you're also aware of the remarkably powerful blood ward which your mother cast by sacrificing herself on your behalf? Well, Harry, upon the sacrificial death of your mother and your subsequent placement at No. 4 Privet Drive, these wards merged in some sense, each becoming a more powerful version of themselves."
He shifted his gaze toward the Dursley's home. "You are safer here than anywhere in the world, because of the brilliant magic of your mother. And I couldn't let that go."
"You see, perhaps, the difficulty of the situation. I was forced to consider an avenue by which the extraordinarily powerful wards maintained a shield of protection around you, and yet I couldn't for a moment allow you to return to those horrid people."
At this, his expression brightened. "The home which lies before you is, if I may say so, quite a clever series of answers to those difficult questions. No. 4 ½ Privet Drive is, in many ways, like a magical extension of your Aunt and Uncle's home. It exists in a pocket, folded within the far edge of their property. Its structure is indeed a mirrored duplicate of their own. And because of this, unless I'm terribly mistaken, the protective wards placed over their home will be maintained over yours until the day you come of age. It's also protected by a Fidelius Charm — a complex and very powerful spell which will maintain the absolute secrecy of your home and render it impenetrably invisible except to those few to whom you choose to reveal it."
Dumbledore crossed his arms and smiled. "And I think you'll find it quite a bit more comfortable. Shall we?"
Harry's expression remained one of blank, dumbstruck unbelief. He stared, wide-eyed, at the brick home before him, repressing the recurring instinct that he had fallen asleep and was dreaming, imagining a series of the most perfect vignettes.
Dumbledore led him to the front door, twisted the knob, and beckoned him in.
No. 4 ½ Privet Drive cast the distinct impression of warmth, from the moment Harry entered the home. Instead of the Dursleys' shaggy beige carpet, this home was covered in a dark, stained wood flooring. Just beyond the threshold, a rich, colorful rug stood before the entryway. Beside him, a copper coat rack stood in the corner just beside the door.
To his left, a broad living space was filled with an overstuffed, crimson red sofa, and two leather wingback chairs, each with a velvet padded footstool. Side tables of a variety of heights and sizes were available beside each seat. At the center of the far wall, a large stone fireplace dominated the room.
Covering the mantle and side tables were dozens of photos of Harry's mother and father. In some, they were doting on their infant son. In some they were standing happily beside Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin. In others they were celebrating with a broader group including Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore himself.
A large gold rug covered the center of the room, woven intricately with crimson red patterns of lions surrounding a large Gryffindor house crest.
Dumbledore, leading Harry through the room, paused briefly.
"At my request, Sirius gathered the photos of your mother and father, their infant son, and their dearest friends, and you'll find these arranged throughout your house. Also, the chimney is connected to the floo network. You'll find you've been granted exclusive access to the Gryffindor common room, as well as No. 12 Grimmauld Place — your godfather's home. I've made a formal exception to our student housing policies to afford you perpetual access to your home throughout your remaining years at Hogwarts School. You'll see why in just a moment."
They continue through the living area to what would have been the kitchen. In its place was a small potions lab, equipped with two cauldrons, sitting on either side of a broad working table for the preparation of ingredients.
Along the wall, a meticulously arranged inventory of potions ingredients was stored in floor-to-ceiling shelving. On the opposite wall, a wall-to-wall, waist-high shelf housed potions texts of every type, arranged topically by application.
"I understand that potions is not your preferred subject, Harry, but you'll find ready access to a potions lab a priceless convenience in the coming years, I'm sure."
The Dursley's small, circular table, at which Harry rarely fit comfortably after the others sat, was replaced by a broad, rectangular table that sat at least a dozen, with benches rather than chairs on either side. The table and benches appeared to be crafted to mimic in miniature the dining room of the great hall.
Above the table, at least forty candlesticks hung mid-air, magically sustained and casting a warm light throughout the room. Again, the walls were colored with a small gallery of moving photos of Harry's parents and their closest friends.
"As you'll be staying here alone, Harry, I've arranged for the house elves of Hogwarts School to provide your meals. They were exceptionally thrilled to have the privilege of serving Harry Potter. Additionally, as soon as Dobby was told of your new living arrangement, he insisted on transferring his service permanently from the institution to care for you directly. He is, as you know, a free elf, and it is his right to do so. You need only call his name to gain his audience, here or at Hogwarts."
He beckoned Harry to turn the corner, to the master bedroom. This had been Vernon and Petunia's sanctuary, and Harry had indeed never seen it.
The large room, which would have comfortably held a king-sized bed, a sitting area, and a master bath, had been gutted completely, and what now stood in its place was a massive library. At least twenty rows of shelves, extending from floor to ceiling, crowded the room, in addition to the shelving on every wall. Leather tomes of every shape and size, ancient and modern, filled the shelves without a single gap.
"You are aware, I assume, that your parents left you everything from the ancient Potter line. Magically speaking, the most valuable aspect of this rich inheritance is a library that represents a collection of the finest works of magical knowledge, collected over twenty generations. I know of few libraries that rival it, including my own. This room is filled with some of the more poignant and relevant works from that collection. The entire house, indeed, couldn't contain the full library. But I've hand-selected those works that I believe might be of particular interest, with Sirius' assistance. You'll find it, I think, particularly helpful when preparing for your end-of-term exams."
Exiting the library, Dumbledore led Harry up the stairs. There was no longer a second floor hallway. Rather, the stairs opened into a large upper room, at the center of which was a comfortable reading nook. Against the backdrop on several more waist-high bookshelves, two more crimson red wingbacks and a mid-century leather sofa sat around a rich crimson carpet, ornately woven in the patterns of a phoenix aflame. Between these sat two wooden side tables and a wicker basket full of comfortable patchwork blankets. Commanding the room to the right was a large walnut writing desk, upon which sat an ornate glass inkwell and fresh quill. Further to the right, a mirror duplicate of his Gryffindor four-poster extended from the far corner, at the foot of which sat a large, ornate trunk. Beside these sat a large cherry wardrobe, into which was carved a forest scene with centaurs gazing into a starry night.
To the left of the reading nook stood a circular stand holding Hedwig's cage, alongside a copper rod that extended from the wall itself, directly next to a wide, open window. Next to this, on the far left wall, an arched wooden door led to a washroom featuring, among other essentials, a claw-footed tub, a large standing oval mirror beside a smaller wardrobe, and a separate shower room.
As Dumbledore escorted Harry back down the stairs, he continued in an apologetic tone.
"I understand, Harry, if some of the decisions I've made related to the arrangement or design of your new home may not represent your preference. If there's anything you find dissatisfactory, I'd be happy to help remedy your concerns. My chief objective was that you'd find a home where you'd left a house."
At this, they arrived at the foot of the stairs, and turned again toward the entryway.
Harry had, to this point, followed Dumbledore with a distant expression, between confused and stunned. As his headmaster directed his attention to this or that feature of his new home, he took it all in with wide eyes and otherwise expressionless silence.
But just at that moment he noticed something was missing. The home was structurally identical to No. 4 Privet Drive, and while though here and there walls were shifted and occasionally removed, every room of the one was represented in the other.
Every room but one. Harry, almost in passing, noticed the glaring absence of a cupboard under the stairs. He halted mid-step, and he passed his eyes over the wall where the cupboard door would have been, where the rusty exterior latch would have scraped the paint off of the beaten trim. He stopped and he stared blankly at that empty wall for two uninterrupted minutes.
And then in one sudden movement Harry threw his body into Dumbledore's purple robes, dug his head into Dumbledore's chest, wrapped his arms full strength around Dumbledore's torso, and wept.
"I know, my dear boy." Dumbledore whispered. "I know. And I'm so, so sorry."