As Minerva McGonagall strode forward, her heeled boots click-clack down the road, she counted down the number of the houses in Privet Drive. 10, 8, 6, - She stopped, eyeing the 4th house with distaste as she approached the front door and knocked.

After a moment, there was the sound of footsteps before it stopped and the door opened. The sight that greeted her made her breath hitch.

She was certain the boy that opened the door was Harry Potter, though there were many differences than when she last saw him. The boy she was now seeing was scrawny and pale, with jet black messy hair with sharp cheekbones and sharp green eyes, the type of sharpness Lily had never possessed. The boy wore an oversized grey shirt and his face was decorated in a scowl.

"Excuse me? Who are you?", Minerva started at the voice and cleared her throat, internally cursing herself.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are Mr. Potter, correct?", Minerva said, holding out Harry's Hogwarts letter.

Harry narrowed his eyes and gingerly took the letter from her hands, carefully opening the letter and reading the contents before a voice roared in the background:

"WHO IS AT THE DOOR, BOY?"

"Patience is a virtue, Uncle Vernon!", Harry called back, still reading the letter. There were sounds of heavy footsteps in the house before a large man came into view, color draining from his face at the sight of Minerva.

"Freak… FREAK!", He thundered, attempting to grab Harry in what would be a painful grip but he scooted away, now folding the letter in his hand and glaring at the man. "What is this supposed to mean?! You knew about this!", Harry exclaimed, much to the chagrin of the man.

Minerva smiled pleasantly, or as pleasant as she could at the moment. "I'm here to take Mr. Potter shopping for his school supplies as well as tell him about the war and his parents.", she spoke before a tall, skinny woman came behind the man with a sneer. "We don't allow freaks in the house. You can take your business elsewhere."

"Well, of course. Come along, Mr. Potter.", Minerva held out her hand and Harry happily took it, the wizard and witch walking out of the dull house.

-

Minerva had taken Harry at a muggle café before shopping for his school supplies and she told him that she would answer his questions, much to his obvious delight.

"What do you teach at Hogwarts?", Harry asked, tilting his head. Minerva smiled; this was a topic she quite enjoyed.

"I teach transfiguration, in simple words, we can change the molecular structure of an object to create another object with magic, we transfigure it, hence the name transfiguration.", Minerva explained, beaming in the awed look in Harry's face.

"Are there other… branches of magic?", He said after a moment of consideration.

"Why, of course there are. The most common branch is charms and your daily life consists of charms. Of course there are others like Potions, Herbology, Divination, and many others. There are more rare and uncommon branches like necromancy but we teach the common branches in Hogwarts.", Harry was listening intently, nodding continuously which reminded her of her young Ravenclaws, but then he suddenly frowned and furrowed his brows in a thoughtful expression.

"But then… then what war were you talking about?"

Minerva winced, this was going be a long discussion. "There was a war that started when your parents were young and still in school. There was this Dark Lord who practiced forbidden magic and thought of himself and his follower's superior, whereas they thought that Muggle-borns - The wizards that had two muggle parents - were inferior. Eventually he was feared so much that no-one could utter his name, he was called he-who-must-not-be-named. Eventually-" Her face took on some awe. "- The son of Alice and Frank Longbottom, Neville Longbottom, was being hunted down and he managed to survive the killing curse and destroy the Dark Lord, and all the child got was a scar", Harry was listening intently and then frowned.

"So my parents died in the war?"

Minerva furrowed her brows and tilted her head. "Your parents are not dead, Mr. Potter.", that seemed like the wrong thing to say as Harry shut down and his eyes grew sharper.

"If my parents weren't dead, I wouldn't be staying at the Dursleys.", he said, his eyes narrowed as Minerva sighed.

"Your parents are not dead Harry. They are- "she took a deep breath. "- They suffered a mental injury, causing them to be hospitalized."

Harry gave a hollow laugh. "In the hospital for 11 years? What happened to them? Tortured into insanity or something?", Minerva winced and Harry gasped. "They were tortured?!"

"The Dark Lord was targeting the Longbottom's but the Death Eaters had targeted the Potters, they said that they deserved it since they ruined their pureblood legacy", Minerva stated, looking at her lap while Harry silently seethed. This had taken a very dark turn indeed.

"Would you like to meet them?", Minerva asked with hesitancy in her voice. It was silent for a few minutes.

"Not right now… We should go and shop.", Harry said in a monotone voice, playing with the remains of his food as Minerva nodded and called for the bill.

-

Harry was tired. Fortunately, the last stop was at Ollivander's where they currently resided.

It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Professor McGonagall sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello", said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inch long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.", Harry soaked up the information like a sponge.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Harry a piercing look. "Well, now - Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm ambidextrous", Harry said.

"Hold out your arms. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -"

Harry tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - - yes, why not - unusual combination – willow wood and dragon heartstring, eleven inches, rigid."

Harry took the wand and immediately felt warmth envelope his body like a spiritual hug. Harry brought his wand up and waved it around, causing blue and black sparks to erupt in the sky as Minerva smiled and Ollivander cried "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good."

-

As Harry laid down on the bed of Dudley's second bedroom for the first time, he thought about his parents. He was quite guilty he didn't visit them, but he was too scared to see them in a state of mental instability, especially because Harry was no-one special. He could just sense the disappointment they would feel in seeing him as his son. Suddenly, he sat up on his bed.

He was going to make them proud. He was going to be a prodigy. Everyone would know the name Harry Potter and he would find the cure for his parents, no matter what. He was going to succeed and no person was going to come in his way, otherwise he would take care of it himself, legal or illegal. He grinned like a maniac.

The wizarding world wasn't ready for the son of the Potters; how could they handle Harry?