Chapter 7 – The Boy Who Lived

Harry's second floo trip was slightly more graceful than his first. Though he still found himself sprawled on the floor, this time Ginny landed beside him rather than on top of his back.

The two children stood up after arriving, and Ginny immediately flung herself into her mother's arms for a hug. Harry looked around the room; he was surrounded by comfortable looking but mismatched sofas, and chairs, and rugs. The mantel above the fireplace was overcrowded with pictures of red-haired children, and Harry recognized a younger Ginny in at least a few of them. He turned his attention back to Mrs. Weasley, who had just let go of Ginny. "Thank you for letting Ginny come Mrs. Weasley. She was a big help."

Molly Weasley stepped forward to hug Harry, when simultaneously two things happened. Harry stepped slightly back, a strange expression on his face, and at the same time Ginny pulled on her mother's hand, holding her back from Harry. Molly's focus swung quickly from Harry to Ginny, but she stopped short at the strained expression on her daughter's face.

Professor Dumbledore chose that moment to speak, and led Molly away for a moment, which left Harry and Ginny briefly alone. Harry resumed his inspection of the family pictures, but Ginny stepped forward and held out her arms, which Harry gladly stepped into. "Now Harry, I helped you pick out all those quills and ink; I hope you will use them to write me. I will send you letters every day I can!"

Harry, still wrapped up in the hug, nodded his head in agreement. "Thank you, Ginny. I will, I promise."

Dumbledore and Molly came back out of the kitchen, and Dumbledore spoke. "We'll take the floo back. This time I want you to go first; Hogwarts Headmaster will be your destination." He offered the floo powder to Harry, who took a pinch, and after a final small wave towards Ginny, he tossed it into the fire, cried out "Hogwarts Headmaster" and flamed away.

Harry discovered it was slightly easier to arrive with dignity when you traveled through the floo alone, rather than holding onto someone else. He still stumbled when he arrived, but only barely. After a moment, he remembered that Professor Dumbledore would be following right behind him, and he hopped out of the way of the fireplace just in time for the fire to flare and Professor Dumbledore to step gracefully out of the flames. "Ah, good, we all made it. Please, sit Mr. Potter. I know it has already been a long day, but we have some matters to discuss before I send you back to Gryffindor tower."

Harry settled himself in the chair opposite Professor Dumbledore's desk. Professor Dumbledore also sat down, and then he began. "Mr. Potter, starting today you will be joining the rest of your year mates in the regular dormitory, and tomorrow you will attend classes the same as any other first year. Earlier today, I had Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor, organize a house meeting. She took that opportunity to explain to everyone else that you were joining Gryffindor, and to encourage your housemates not to pester you about your unusual entrance. This evening at dinner, I will make a somewhat similar announcement to the rest of the school, again requesting that you receive some measure of privacy. I cannot guarantee that you will be left entirely alone, but hopefully there will be some reduction in the amount of attention you receive. With that said, for tonight only it will be your choice as to whether you eat in the Great Hall with the rest of the student body, or simply wait in Gryffindor tower for the rest or your housemates to join you after dinner."

Harry hardly had to think. "I would prefer to skip the announcement, please sir. I don't… I don't want the attention. If possible, though, I would like a chance to apologize to the boy… the boy whose robes I stole."

"I think that can be arranged, Mr. Potter, and I must commend your character to request such an opportunity. There is a second topic we should discuss; yesterday you mentioned that your family did not know you were here, and that situation must be addressed." Harry spoke up quickly, "I…I can write them a letter and… uh… let them know I've arrived safely. I'll send it tonight… or, er… tomorrow. If that's OK?"

Dumbledore observed the boy intently; yesterday's expression of panic was gone, replaced by something unreadable, possibly hopeful even. "That should be acceptable, Mr. Potter, if you contact them quickly. I do not wish to endure a visit from an angry family member who hasn't heard from you. Unfortunately, there is one additional topic that we must discuss before I send you on your way, and I suspect that you will not like it."

Harry squirmed somewhat uncomfortably at that proclamation, but otherwise sat quietly and waited. "I am sure you had much on your mind at the time, but during the sorting ceremony yesterday, did you perhaps notice the reaction of the student body when your name was called? Before the business with the stolen robes, I mean."

Harry gulped, and then nodded cautiously. "I…yes. Everyone got quiet for a moment and then started whispering. I don't know why."

"Why, indeed. It is a long and very sad tale, but suffice it to say that many years ago, before you were born, there was a wizard who called himself Voldemort. This wizard was, in simple terms, evil, and he waged a campaign of terror against much of the British wizarding world. The conflict lasted several years, and a great many witches and wizards lost their lives."

Harry sat listening, very curious, but confused. "I see that you can't imagine how this tale would affect you, and I am getting there. After many years of fighting, I am sad to inform you that Voldemort decided to target your family, Harry. Your mother and father took you and went into hiding. Unfortunately, they were betrayed to Voldemort by your father's closest friend. Voldemort came to your house when you were barely a year old. He killed your father, and your mother. And then – this is the important part – he tried to kill you as well; tried, being the operative word. When Voldemort turned his wand to you, he failed. His curse backfired, and Voldemort was killed instead. In that moment, a legend was born – the legend of you, henceforth known throughout the wizarding world as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived."

Harry simply stared, dumbfounded. Him, a legend? For what? Surely not. "I can understand your skepticism, Mr. Potter. And in some respects, I can agree; surely you had nothing personally to do with Voldemort's downfall, so how could you be given the credit? Alas, logic has never been a guiding principle in the minds of the greater public, and you were given direct credit for Voldemort's demise, and from that moment on your name has been spread throughout our world. So that is why the students reacted the way they did upon hearing your name, and that is why no matter how much I may desire it, you will almost certainly never fully escape what I suspect will be the unwanted attention of your classmates."

Dumbledore allowed Harry a few minutes to digest what he had been told. After a moment, Harry spoke. "So… uh… Voldemort tried to kill me, but he died instead. How? Why?"

"Why indeed, Mr. Potter. While I am sure you are a fine wizard, or will be one anyway, I believe we can look to your parents for the true reason that you survived, and Voldemort did not. To keep things simple, I believe that your mother invoked a form of magical protection for you. I believe the true credit for Voldemort's demise is mostly due to her. But the public latched onto your story, Mr. Potter, and for now that is how history remembers it."

Harry pondered this for a while before continuing. "I'm… I'm not really sure what to say. I think maybe later I'll have more questions, if that's OK." Dumbledore nodded, waiting for Harry to continue. "There is something I want to know now, if that's OK? My parents… what were… can you tell me their names, please?"

Of all the questions that Albus Dumbledore had been expecting, this was not one of them. He froze for just a second, before schooling his expression and answering. "Of course. Your father's name was James Potter, and your mother was Lily Potter, born Lily Evans. I considered both of them dear friends. I suspect you will want to know more about them, so I shall endeavor to gather some interesting stories to tell you about them in the future. We will have more discussions soon; for now, perhaps it is best we end things here. Yesterday you were in a bit of a state, and I suspect that you are much the same now. I will have Thimble guide you back to Gryffindor Tower, and she can bring you dinner in the Tower as well. Please rest and prepare for classes starting tomorrow."

Thimble made her appearance, and Harry allowed himself to be led out of the headmaster's office. He trudged along behind Thimble, lost in thought, on the way to Gryffindor Tower. Once he climbed in through the hole behind the portrait, he mechanically climbed the steps to the first-year boys dorm. There he found his new trunk, already filled with his new clothes, books, supplies, and everything else, sitting in front of a comfortable looking bed. Harry's bag had also been delivered, and Harry shoved it underneath the bed for now; he would decide what to do with it later. The bed was not as large as the one in the head boy's quarters from last night, but it was still much larger than the pad he slept on in his cupboard. Not knowing what else to do, Harry grabbed one of his textbooks from his trunk – Charms – then plopped down onto his bed and began reading.

Sometime later, Harry heard a knock against the open doorframe. A boy walked in after Harry looked up. "Er, hi Harry. I'm Dean Thomas. Professor McGonagall said I should come see you before dinner…"

Harry jumped up off his bed and stood, facing Dean. "Er, yes. I just… I wanted to apologize. I didn't steal your robes on purpose. Er, I mean, I did steal them on purpose, I mean I didn't steal yours specifically on purpose. I didn't have any, and… nevermind, it isn't important. The important part is I'm sorry, and I won't do it again, I promise."

Dean blinked. "Er, no big deal I guess? I'm headed down to dinner. You coming?" Harry shook his head. "Oh, OK then. See you later."

Dean closed the door to the dorm as he left, which suited Harry just fine. He sat back down and resumed reading his book. At some point Thimble made an appearance, and Harry barely paused reading to inhale dinner.

Some time later, Harry heard a commotion coming from outside his dorm. Then, quite suddenly, the door flew open and several boys piled in, Dean among them. Harry quickly stood up, and the boys all screeched to a stop just inside the room. "Er, hi. I'm Harry Potter."

Each of the boys took turns introducing themselves, and Harry did his best to remember their names. Ron Weasley - he must be Ginny's brother. Neville… Longbottom? Seamus Finnegan. And Dean Thomas. Five boys to the room; Harry thought he could handle that. After an awkward moment of silence, all of the boys changed into their pajamas, Harry into his brand new ones. He climbed into his bed, slide under the covers for the first time, and then turned out his light.

Much later that night, Harry gently climbed out of his bed. Half his dorm mates snored quite loudly, but Harry took extra care to be quiet nonetheless. It had been hours, and there was no way he was going to get any sleep in this bed. Harry grabbed his pillow and crept out of the boy's dorm. Once he was in the abandoned common room, he made a beeline for the head rooms where he stayed last night. He opened the door behind the tapestry and then quietly closed it behind him. Unfortunately, when Harry tried to open the door to the head boy's room, he found it locked. Harry decided that here was better than nowhere, so he placed his pillow onto the floor in the chamber between the two head room doors, did his best to curl up on it, and went to sleep.