Harry Potter's own perspective on his first year at Hogwarts has been documented quite prominently and can be read up on in any well-stocked bookshop. All rights to Harry and any other recognizable characters remain with JK Rowling.
Harry Potter and the Sacred Stone
Mr and Mrs Dursley of Number 4, Privet Drive were perfectly ordinary people. Vernon Dursley worked as a Quality Assurance Engineer for the drilling company Grunnings, which, while not his dream job, paid well enough and was not too arduous a commute by London standards. Petunia Dursley had reluctantly become a stay-at-home mum for their twin sons after a comparison of her salary at the garden centre and the nursery cost for two children had left the family with few other options.
Their children were a different matter altogether though. Danny had always been somewhat possessive and attention seeking and Petunia and Vernon were concerned that he was turning out to be a bully. He had inherited his father's sturdy build and was a menace on the playground. Harry meanwhile seemed to take after his mother and did not seem to put on any weight no matter how much he ate. What concerned his parents though was that Harry was a dreamer. He would spend hours living in an imaginary world or simply staring off into the distance.
Vernon and Petunia would have loved some support from their relatives, but, alas, that was not to be. Both had lost their parents at a young age and their respective siblings were... peculiar.
Vernon's older sister Margery was the dog lover's equivalent of a crazy cat lady. The last time she had come to visit she had brought her Rottweiler Ripper with her and, when told that Rottweilers and toddlers don't mix, left in a huff. Given her tendency to spout racist conspiracy theories, Vernon and Petunia had not been overly upset to see her leave.
Petunia's sister Lily meanwhile was a different kind of odd. She had only visited once since the twins were born and had brought her partner - Petunia wasn't entirely sure they were married - James Potter along. The two Potters had lived up to their name and had been stoned for most of their visit. Lily had babbled on about how they should all broaden their minds and James had given the two-year-old boys 'flying lessons' by lifting them on top of the furniture and telling them to flap their arms. Harry had fallen off the dresser and hit his head on a corner of his bed. The fallout was a visit to A and E, a permanent scar on Harry's forehead, and Lily and James being kicked out of the house. As far as Petunia knew the two potheads were now on a spiritual journey through India.
Years went by and the Dursley family settled into an uneasy rhythm. When the boys began to go to school, Petunia returned to her job at the garden centre part-time. That meant that Danny and Harry were expected to help out with a few of the lighter chores around the house. Unfortunately, asking Danny to help out was about as fruitful as asking his aunt's Rottweiler to stop nibbling on children. It inevitably resulted in a temper tantrum and Petunia hated herself for not being able to deal with her son.
Harry meanwhile was happy to help, but had delved deeply into a fantasy world where he was not really his parents' child but adopted by his mean aunt and uncle after an incident that had killed his real parents, the Potters. Resigned to his fate, he now laboured away under the instruction of his evil aunt. Petunia and Vernon had not realised how deep this obsession went until Harry's teacher had wanted to discuss their 'adopted son's' progress in school. Just a few weeks ago Vernon had had to install a lock on the cupboard under the stairs when Harry had decided that this was his bedroom and had to be pulled out of it physically at bedtime.
The latest incident had been the twins' birthday party. With Danny's friends being a bunch of bullies and Harry not having any friends (partly thanks to Danny, partly thanks to Harry deciding that his evil aunt had forbidden him to have friends), they had decided to take the boys on a trip to the zoo. First Danny, whom Harry kept calling Dudley these days for some reason, had stolen Harry's ice cream. Then, Harry had been approached by a drunk homeless guy who had slurrily declared that Harry was a wizard. So now Harry was a wizard who grew up in the cupboard under the stairs at the home of his abusive non-magical relatives.
Suffice to say that Vernon and Petunia were looking forward to the boys starting secondary school next month. They hoped that sending them to different boarding schools would help both of their sons to grow up, trusting in teachers to succeed where they themselves had failed.
Danny, who was no slouch academically, would go to Smeltings Academy in Somerset. The school had a reputation for educational excellence paired with a strict daily schedule. Vernon himself had attended it and would be the first to admit that without the routines and stable environment provided by the school he would likely have turned out a poor excuse of a human being.
Harry would attend a boarding school in the Scottish Highlands, Hogwarts Institute. Petunia had been uncertain at first as her sister had attended the same school and met the Potter boy there. But in the end the fact that their childhood neighbour Severin Snape was the resident Chemistry teacher won her over. It would be good to have a point of contact that she could call if there was any trouble with Harry.
The final hurdle they had to master was getting their sons to their respective boarding schools. Somerset was not too far, but the Scottish Highlands were a fair distance from their Surrey home. Luckily, Danny's school year started a week earlier than Harry's or Vernon as the only driver in the family would have struggled. Petunia and Vernon were thinking to combine dropping Harry off with a holiday of their own, but in the end their son made the decision for them. Harry refused point-blank to get driven to school and insisted on taking the train, which apparently 'all the magical students use to get to Hogwarts'.
At least he generously allowed his parents to give him a lift to London King's Cross station and after a short argument, Vernon was even allowed to bring his heavy suitcase to the platform.
"Harry, there is no platform 9 and 3/4. Look, platforms 8 and 9 are over here, and platforms 10 and 11 are over there. Surely even wizards would not put their platform between the rails in the middle", Vernon tried to reason with his son.
"That's because you muggles can't see it. You have to run through the wall to get there."
"Which wall? There are only rail tracks! And what is a 'muggles'?"
"That's what we call you non-magical people."
"And who is we? Who told you that?"
"Hagrid."
"Hagrid? Isn't he the gardener at your boarding school? How on Earth did you meet him?", Vernon asked in a puzzled voice. Petunia had told them a few bits and pieces that she remembered from her sister's school days over the past week. Apparently this Mr Hagrid was a slightly dim but friendly former student who had dropped out of school in his day but was kept on as a gardener.
Harry merely shrugged his shoulders and did not reply. Father and son waited in awkward silence until Petunia returned to announce that the train to Edinburgh Waverley would be leaving from platform 7 today but that it was late to arrive due to the wrong kind of leaves on the tracks.
At Harry's prodding, they said their goodbyes early and left him to wait for the train on his own. Vernon and Petunia found a place at a cafe instead and waited for Harry's train to arrive and leave. They noticed a family of redheads rush past with the mother complaining loudly about the crowded station - "Full of yuppies!" A bushy-haired girl who seemed to be Harry's age was lectured by her parents - "... expect nothing short of straight As, else we will homeschool you again..." A family of slick blondes strutted past, Vernon would have bet his house that the father of the family was in banking - "... will let me know immediately if anyone gives you trouble, Draco!"
Finally, the conductor blew his whistle, the doors closed and the train set off north. Harry's first year of boarding school had started.
One week. One more week until Harry and Danny would return from their respective boarding schools for the summer holidays. Petunia had already cleaned their rooms, prepared their beds, and pre-ordered a juicy roast beef at the butcher's.
Vernon had had a stressful time at Grunnings. His boss had invited himself around for dinner on the boys' birthday and Vernon had tried and failed, with decreasing degrees of subtlety, to signal that this plan was not altogether appreciated in the Dursley household. His boss in turn had signalled, with decreasing degrees of subtlety, that, while he was happy with Vernon's performance and a promotion might well be on the cards, inflexible employees might get surprised by a demotion instead.
But this weekend Vernon would pick Petunia up at the garden centre after her Saturday shift and they would enjoy a nice romantic dinner in town before the twin storm would hit.
At least that was the plan.
Just as Vernon was getting ready to set off the phone rang.
"Hello? Dursley speaking?"
"Mr Dursley, I'm so glad I was able to get a hold of you. My name is Minerva McGonagall, I am the deputy headmistress and Physics teacher at your son's school."
The strong Scottish accent made it easy for Vernon to guess which son at which school she was referring to.
"My pleasure, professor. Is everything ok with Harry? Has something happened?"
"He... Yes, everything is ok now... Harry is still a bit shaken, but... he is fine... physically..."
"Professor, you are beginning to make me worry. What happened?"
"One of Harry's teachers, Professor Quirrell, attempted an exorcism on your son."
"HE WHAT?!"
"Please, Mr Dursley, there is no need to get loud. Mr Quirrell was of course immediately relieved of his duties and has been permanently barred from the school grounds."
"How... How did that happen?"
"I should better start at the beginning, Mr Dursley. How much has Harry told you about our school?"
"We have not heard a word from him since September. Petunia had gotten him a nice owl-themed stationary set before he left, but, well... I remember from my own school days that writing to my parents was not high on my to-do list. I believe my wife has had a couple of phone calls with the Chemistry teacher though."
"Oh, in that case it may take a while to fill you in on all the details..."
In the end, Vernon and Petunia decided to drive up to Scotland themselves the next day for the full story. A harrowing ten hour drive later, they arrived at the tall metal gates to the school grounds.
The gardener, Mr Hagrid, let them in and advised them to park near the front of the building and follow the signs to the headmaster's office - they were already expected.
Having only seen the school in brochure pictures before, they were impressed: while technically a former manor house, Hogwarts' exterior was richly adorned with towers and crenellations, giving it the appearance of a fairytale castle.
Once inside the building, they found the interior warm if slightly eccentric. The headmaster's office was at the top of a spiral staircase. Most of the wall space was taken up by portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses. A few odds and trinkets were strewn around the office and a heavy herbal smell that Petunia associated with her estranged sister hung in the air.
"Welcome to Hogwarts!", a female voice sounded from a door in the corner of the office that seemed to connect it to a set of private quarters. "The headmaster has been forced to attend an urgent meeting a few minutes ago but asked me to meet you and make myself available for your questions. My name is Minerva McGonagall, I believe we spoke on the phone, Mr Dursley?"
"Yes, that was me. This is my wife Petunia."
"Ah, I believe your sister is an alumna of our school, Mrs Dursley? Lily always was a favourite of mine."
"Really?"
"Well, until her final year, when she started hanging out with Potter and his bunch of weed worshippers. How is she doing these days? She was one of our brightest students when she wasn't high as a kite."
"I haven't heard from her in years. I believe she and Potter are still tramping in India. But we aren't here to chat about my brain-addled sister. What on Earth happened to our son? And where is he?"
"Oh, he's resting in the school nurse's office. It's just a precaution... Where to begin... Well, since you are here, I might as well start at the very beginning. I have spoken with a number of Harry's fellow students as well as my colleagues and I believe I now have the full picture."
Every year, at the start of September, our students make the long journey from their family home to Hogwarts. Many students are living in the South of England, and so the train ride from London King's Cross to Edinburgh Waverley, the subsequent regional train onwards to Hogsmeade village, and the chauffeured taxi ride to the 'castle' have become a rite of passage for many.
When Harry boarded the train, he was quick joined by one of his future class mates. Ronald Weasley would soon become close friends with Harry. Ronald is the second youngest of seven, and just like his elder siblings he attends Hogwarts on a government stipend for children from disadvantaged families. Like your own son he is quite impressionable. It appears that the two boys bonded in part over their supposedly shared unfair plight in life.
At this point, I should probably fill you in on a bit of Hogwarts' recent history. Back in the seventies, there was persistent strife and unrest between two factions within the school.
On the one side was the headmaster Albus Dumbledore, who preached free love, peace, and mutual tolerance, as well as dabbling in experimental drug use. He has mellowed a fair bit and withdrawn into a largely administrative role in recent years, but as you can tell from the smell in the office, he has not shaken off all of his old habits. In the seventies, he was a major proponent of recreational drug use and invited many of the older students to smoke weed.
There is, of course, no movement without countermovement. A former student, Thomas Riddle, who had conflicted with the headmaster during his own time in school, began influencing students with a medley of aggressively evangelical messages. Riddle believed himself to be the Messiah reborn and had gathered a following of cultists that attempted to spread his message by any means. Things came to a head when he was involved in a physical altercation with your sister and her partner at their flat in '82. The police showed up and arrested all three of them. Lily and James Potter got away with community service, but Riddle was diagnosed as psychotic and institutionalised.
The reason I am telling you all this is that your son has been telling everyone this year that he is Lily and James' son. Together with the backstory supplied by Weasley, they figured that Riddle murdered his supposed parents. And given that nobody has seen them or heard from them in a decade, the story has gained traction even among some of my colleagues. This in turn has begun to fuel flames that had been almost extinguished for many years. To the headmaster's friends he is the son of martyrs and they look at the former cultists and their suspected sympathisers with renewed anger. To those who still harbour Riddle's radicalised beliefs, he represents the second betrayal of the Messiah.
But back to the main story. The boys' train journey was fairly uneventful. There was a minor altercation with another first year student, Draco Malfoy, whose father used to be one of Riddle's disciples but has long reformed and now works as a hedge fund manager in the City. And I believe they had a brief encounter with Hermione Granger, a girl pushed to academic excellence at the cost of social skills by overbearing parents. When the boys insisted that they were wizards she ridiculed them and left them to their own devices.
The next event of note was the sorting. As you will know, we have four dormitories or 'Houses' here at Hogwarts. For no better reason than historic eccentricity they are called Lion, Eagle, Badger, and Snake. We assign the House by draw of the lot. Each student is called up and draws the name of their dormitory from an old hat. Of course, if a student is particularly unhappy with their lot, we try to accommodate their wishes.
Your son had drawn Snake House but, knowing that his new friend Ronald would want to be a Lion like his older brothers, insisted that he also be allowed to join their rooms. I should perhaps add that Thomas Riddle had been a Snake and the students in that House still have a reputation for being inclined towards his movement.
Harry's performance in his classes has been a mixed bag this year. He has a sharp mind when he applies himself to a task, but he frequently zones out and some of his comments in class are somewhat peculiar.
In my first class he arrived late, which is not an uncommon occurrence for first-years unfamiliar with the layout of the building. What was uncommon though was that he completely ignored me and instead started talking to the school cat. I was introducing the different states of matter that day and his only question throughout the class was whether humans could transform into animals.
Biology with Professor Sprout seems to have gone more smoothly. She likes to include a practical component in her teaching and the students spent a lot of time in the school gardens with her this year, discussing plants and their properties. At some point during the first lesson Harry and Ronald must have picked up a couple of sticks because they have been seen waving them around ever since, claiming they were magic wands.
I am sorry to say that Harry's performance in Chemistry was less than stellar all year. I am not sure how much my colleague has already told you, but your son seems to have decided that Professor Snape harbours a personal animosity against him every since he earned himself a poor grade for lack of preparation in the first week of term. It does not help that Harry's lackadaisical attitude reminds my colleague of your sister and her husband, and while he never endorsed Riddle's radical views, Severin is not fond of recreational drugs use and its effects on human behaviour.
Our history teacher, Professor Binns, is quite a mild-mannered man and slightly autistic. Sadly, it seems that your son and his friend have abused this circumstance to sleep in classes and spread the rumour that he is a ghost. I was surprised to learn last week that Harry did not attend a single lesson in Mathematics as he was apparently under the impression that it was a third-year elective. I should add that we do not have third-year electives at Hogwarts.
Professor Flitwick, our English teacher, on the other hand has been full of praise for Harry's creativity and language skills. Likewise, he has shown tremendous potential in PE and even made it onto his dormitory's football team. He's a mad genius on the pitch - invisible for most of the match, and yet always there for the deciding goal.
Surprisingly, he has managed to pass all of his end-of-year exams with adequate grades, including Mathematics. I believe he has Ms Granger to thank for that. Despite their frosty first encounter she somehow became part of his small circle of friends.
Vernon chose that point in the professor's tale to interrupt.
"That is all very well, and we are of course very happy that Harry has made not just one, but two friends. But you still have not explained to us how this Quirrell character came to attempt am exorcism on our son."
"I was getting to that, Mr Dursley. It is a convoluted affair, but I will try my best to explain."
The elder Dursleys waited patiently as the professor collected herself before continuing with her recounting.
The entire affair centres on the conflict between Riddle and the headmaster. Professor Dumbledore has long believed that Riddle would one day find a way to escape the institutions. The authorities are becoming less and less concerned with his conduct and it is only a matter of time before a psychological assessment leads to him being let loose on the general public again.
More recently, this has become a bit of a fixation of the headmaster's. He has convinced himself that Riddle is already out and about again, and with his general distrust in governmental institutions he has taken their statement that they 'do not comment on individual cases' as a thinly veiled confirmation of this conviction.
And so he came up with a plan to lure Riddle into a trap. He began spreading a rumour that deep within the school archives, a piece of the stone that had blocked the tomb of Jesus Christ had been found.
For reasons I do not fully understand to this day, the headmaster requested of me and a few fellow members of staff that we contribute a challenge to some kind of gauntlet that would protect this 'sacred stone'. As we did not see any harm in this we humoured him.
Our groundskeeper, Mr Hagrid provided what he assured the headmaster were three vicious hounds - they really were tall but friendly labradoodles. Professor Sprout planted some ivy in the next room, she complained all year about her struggle to keep it alive in the dimly lit room. Professor Hooch, the PE teacher, hid the keys to the door past the next room in a football and added half of the balls from the PE shed in the same room.
My own contribution was a tinker project - the next door was electronically secured and only unlocked if a chess computer was beaten. Professor Snape added a logic puzzle of some sort and Professor Quirrell painted the walls of a room with scenes of purgatory.
And that, we assumed, would be the end of it. What we had not expected was your son's tenacity and our colleague's erratic behaviour.
For context, I should explain that Professor Quirrell had only recently rejoined us after a sabbatical to teach Religious Education this year. During his first tenure with us he had taught Home Economics, but he had left us a couple of years ago to explore his spiritual self. I assure you that none of us had any idea that he embraced such radical beliefs.
We did notice of course that he had become a bit odd, having developed a stutter and wearing a frankincense scented headwrap. At Halloween he caused a bit of a ruckus when he showed up partway through the festivities and shouted about it being a heathen tradition.
Harry seems to have developed a love-hate relationship with his subject. Thanks to his creative writing skills and vivid imagination he has been top of his year. But he also seems to have skipped a lot of his classes claiming that the smell of frankincense gave him headaches.
Unbeknownst to the staff, the story the headmaster had concocted about a piece of the rock sealing Jesus' tomb seems to have leaked to the students at some point. I suspect the gardener may have said something to Harry and his friends. Mr Hagrid is a kind man, but after a childhood accident he is slightly intellectually impaired. Harry has been seen spending a lot of time with him and it seems that he has convinced Mr Hagrid that he too is a wizard.
In any case, Harry came to me early last week claiming that Professor Snape was planning to steal the 'sacred stone'. Given that my colleague knows fully well that there is no such stone that seemed highly unlikely and I told your son and his friends there was no need to worry.
Instead of settling the matter this seems to have spurred them into action. Ignoring my assurances, they set off in the middle of the night to find the stone and protect it. After passing the gauntlet - it appears that Mr Weasley has a hidden talent for chess - they reached the room where the headmaster had supposedly hidden the religious artefact.
In a surprising twist of events, there actually was a teacher in the room, looking to steal the stone. However, it was not Severin but the Religious Education teacher, Professor Quirrell. He pulled Harry into the room and locked the door, shutting his friends out. Mr Weasley and Ms Granger went straight to the headmaster who forced his way into the room using a spare key and stopped the charade.
I am told the room contained only an old mirror and Professor Quirrell had spent hours looking unsuccessfully for the stone when he was interrupted by Harry and his friends. In desperation, he decided that he might obtain divine guidance if he performed a successful exorcism on Harry whom he believed to be involved in the downfall of his spiritual leader, Thomas Riddle.
Vernon could not contain himself any longer. "That... makes no sense whatsoever!"
"Believe me, I fully agree with you," answered the professor resignedly.
"Of course we will withdraw Harry for the next school year. It is preposterous that this could have happened right under the noses of the entire staff. I will have to have a serious conversation with Severin as well", Petunia added.
"While that is of course your prerogative, Mrs Dursley, and I sympathise with your view, I feel that I must caution you against a rushed decision. You are aware that you would likely remain liable for the full seven years of tuition fees?"
"I - what?!"
"I am very sorry, but this point is made very clear to all our prospective students and their parents during the open days and in the prospectus brochure. Only in exceptional cases will the outstanding tuition fees be waived if a student withdraws before they have completed their education at Hogwarts Institute."
"Surely an attempted exorcism by a teacher constitutes an exceptional circumstance?", Vernon asked.
"As the school, represented by the headmaster, intervened decisively as soon as we were made aware of the situation, I am not sure that the case as it presents itself would qualify. Your son did not suffer any lasting harm and the perpetrator was let go with immediate effect."
"That is ridiculous!", exclaimed Vernon.
"I appreciate that you have a different view on the matter and you are free to submit a formal inquiry to the headmaster or to the head of the Inspectorate of Education, Mr Cornelius Fudge. I just wish to manage your expectations. The last successful claim dates back to 1942 when Ms Myrtle Warren died in a tragic bathroom accident. Even then, the waiver was granted only on compassionate grounds."
The Dursleys exchanged a resigned look. They were barely able to afford the tuition fees for the two boarding schools. Having Harry go to the local state school on top of paying the fees for Hogwarts would be crippling for the family finances. Of course they would write to the headmaster and to Mr Fudge, but they had a good idea of they kind of response they would receive: polite, non-committal, and deflecting any blame to another party. Bureaucracy was the same everywhere.
"We would like to see our son now if that is alright", Petunia sniffed.
"Of course, Mrs Dursley. Please follow me, I will bring you to the nurse's office."
They did not have to go far, but were glad for their guide nonetheless. Hogwarts truly was a maze. When they arrived at the nurse's office they found Harry sitting upright in one of the two folding beds.
Petunia immediately ran to her son and embraced him in a tight hug. "Oh Harry! You must have been so scared!"
And for the first time in living memory, Harry hugged her back. It seemed that the experience with his professor had left him sufficiently shaken to pull him out of his fantasy world for once. Vernon smiled. Perhaps there was hope yet. He was sure that there was more drama to follow but they would face it when it came. For now, Harry was safe and that was all that mattered.
THE END (of book one)