Chapter Text
Harry lay on the cold, hard floor of the hut, counting and thinking.
One minute to go and he’d be eleven. Thirty seconds … twenty-five … twenty-four — twenty-three — maybe he’d wake Dudley up, just to annoy him—
Knock, knock.
Harry sat bolt upright, his eardrum ringing. Was that the wind, or was that … knocking?
More knocking, louder and harder.
”Dudley!” Harry shook him furiously, is he going mad—
CRACK!
The door — with its five metal locks—is now wide open! A dark, wiry figure stepped through, bringing in wind and rain and the flashing white of lightning — Dudley screamed.
At once, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon came bursting into the shabby living room. Uncle Vernon had a rifle gripped in his hand, and he raised it threateningly to the figure, which Harry then saw to be a prim, severe-looking woman.
“Don’t come any closer! I warn you — I am armed!”
The woman waved her hand, and the door swung shut behind her, "I do not know why you are making children stay here, sir. I am here to bring Harry Potter to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.“
Uncle Vernon’s rifle shook, “Go! We don’t want you here —“
”I want to know why she’s here.” Harry stood up, this definitely has something to do with the letter, he’s not missing his chance this time.
”You are attending school, Mr. Potter. I will help you get your supplies and —“
“He is not going there!” Aunt Petunia’s trilling voice shook the little hut. “I know that freakish school. He will not go there!”
Aunt Petunia knows? Harry didn't know whether he should be angry or amazed.
For a moment it's just howling wind in the hut, then the woman strode up to Harry — and, before he could duck away — pressed a letter into his hand, it was that letter.
”I am Professor McGonagall, Mr. Potter. You have been enrolled in Hogwarts since you were born, and it is in your parent’s will for you to go. Rest assured that your relatives cannot stop you.” The Professor’s bright green eyes held Harry’s.
“My parents?”
“Yes, they were fine witches and wizards…”
Harry could not believe his ears, ”They are magical? But they died in car crashes…!”
There was a sharp intake of breath at this, and Professor McGonagall fixed a sharp stare on Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon’s ashen complexions, “I see that you have not done what you should for Potter.” Her voice softened as she turned back, “Harry, your parents were brave and respected people, and they died for noble causes. We … mourn them deeply.”
Harry turned to his relatives. Eleven years. Eleven years and they had lied to him. He had seen the signs, but — why would they do that? What else had they lied about? Aunt Petunia was shedding angry, silent tears, Uncle Vernon looked furious, and Dudley’s mouth was still wide-open. Harry felt like a stranger to them, suddenly, all he wanted to do was leave.
”Okay,” he turned to McGonagall, swallowing the bile that had risen in his throat, “so where are we going?”
Professor McGonagall smiled almost imperceptibly, “Let’s go back to Privet Drive first, Potter, I left your birthday cake there.”
The rest was almost dream-like. Harry went back with the Professor — whom he was sure wasn’t a kidnapper by then — and ate the velvety chocolate cake. He had a storm of burning questions, but Mcgonagall said that she had some other business before the morning came, and told him to rest.
The next morning, Harry got his first glimpse of the wizarding world. Professor McGonagall had told him to cover his face, which apparently was because he was famous due to something he couldn’t even remember and would rather not think about. He was still getting over the new information about his parents.
The shopping itself passed surprisingly quietly, until he stepped into Ollivander’s, where he got a new wand and some disturbing facts about Voldemort. The Professor and he then had a nice, quiet lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches, during which she explained to him the general workings of the wizarding world, and he was beginning to think that it was not so different from the Muggle world — except for the magic, of course, it still fascinated him.
Harry went home reluctantly but was delighted to find an owl with a letter.
Dear Harry,
hope you’re well. wanted to get your things with ye but had a nasty fever. I bet you look like James potter. Have fun and see you in school.
P.S. Wizards use owls to send letters, the snow owl is for your birthday. Happy Birthday!
Love,
Hagrid
Everything is so wonderful, it's like a dream. He thought as he went to bed that night. He was afraid to fall asleep, for fear that he would wake up from this sweet, sweet dream.