"Then I'll explore the castle and the Forbidden Forest! It sounds so exciting. And I want to be around other humans. I'm sure I'll make lots of friends and won't be bored at all." He continued on as though she'd already agreed. "I already have all this stuff except my uniform and the books. Can we go to Diagon today?"
She rolled her eyes. Fine. "It's six in the morning, Harry. Could we please eat breakfast first?"
Harry ate breakfast as fast as a growing pre-teen boy could and stared at her as she ate at a temperate pace, reading over The Quibbler as she did.
"Should we write them back and tell them you're coming or do you want to show up on the first day of school and surprise everyone?" she asked as they put away the dishes.
"What if I shift into a ghost form and pretend that I'm dead but I don't know that I'm dead and everyone would be like "Harry you're a ghost!" and I would say "No I'm not, I'm a normal child.""
"That would be very humorous," she said deadpan. "But please don't joke about revealing your magic. I feel the urge to remind you not to cause suspicion or do anything stupid."
"I'll be alright," Harry insisted, giving a dramatic sigh. "I know all the rules! Honestly, mama, what are the chances I'll run into a basilisk or a dementor in a school?"
"Honestly, kid, you attract danger to a ridiculous degree. It would not surprise me if you managed to find one. I'm still debating if you should leave your horcrux at home for safekeeping."
"I would rather bring it. I do trust you with it, but I don't want you to wear it. It'll make you sad." If one listened very closely, the faint crying of the Freak in the Cupboard could be heard, like a grating whisper in the back of the mind whenever one got too close to Harry's ring. "I'll be very careful, mama! I promise."
"Alright. It's your soul. I'll respect your decision. But you had better be on your best behavior. No unnecessary exorcizing of any of the Hogwarts ghosts, no silly pranks, and I expect perfect Potions grades."
The Power Of Friendship
"Dear Merlin. Sweet child, you don't need to be sorted, you need a therapist." The funny, singing hat said the moment it had been placed on Harry's head. The rest of the hall was silent. Could they all hear the Sorting Hat cursing up a storm? It was rather awkward.
"It's alright, Mr. Hat. I know it looks a bit iffy but I'm very happy with my mama."
"Yes, I see that and that's good, but - dear heavens you must realize this is not normal? You are eleven years old and you have a horcrux of your repressed childhood trauma!"
"I don't mind. I like learning all sorts of magic."
"I see. Well, damn. Ravenclaw, I guess? How long have we been sitting here? I was so disturbed by the contents of your head I haven't even begun to sort you!"
"I am getting rather hungry, Mr. Hat." The Hat sighed. Ignoring all the pesky Black magic, Mr. Potter was a perfectly normal young lad. A bit smart, a bit ambitious, a bit hard-working - but honestly he was mostly rather stupid and daring to let himself get raised by a necromancer. The Hat really could not get over the necromancy thing. The gall of this child to roll with such a scenario.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
There was a very enthusiastic smattering of applause. This was because the students had long edged from excited to bored and people didn't care which house he went into, they were just glad to move on. Harry had baffled the Sorting Hat for almost twenty minutes - the Hat had spent about seventeen of those minutes cursing.
...
Professor Snape was having a terrible day. It was a terrible day because he was still alive and teaching students and Harry Potter was still alive and now he had to attend a meeting to meet Potter's elusive 'mama' instead of attempting to drink himself to death as any sane man would do on a Friday evening.
That the Boy-Who-Lived had been missing for four years had been a closely guarded secret among the members of the Order of the Phoenix. Albus had burst open the door to his office one summer day, his twinkling eyes un-twinkled and instead blazing with panic. Two nights later, the Order gathered in the Weasley's home and crowded around a muggle newspaper clipping. "WILD ANIMAL ATTACK LEAVES DOZENS DEAD - DETECTIVES STUMPED!" The deaths of Petunia and Dudley Dursley had been confirmed with the remains of Vernon Dursley hesitantly assumed to be some of the many pieces of flesh so mangled that the muggles could not accurately identify who was who anymore. There had been no sign of Harry Potter. Arabella Figg had felt strongly that they would not have brought Harry - but the first place Dumbledore had checked had been Harry's house. Nothing but a cramped cupboard under the stairs and the spiders and memories it housed. Snape had never seen Albus Dumbledore cry before, and he would pay a lot of money to never witness it again.
Snape had privately hoped the boy had not gone on that holiday but had instead taken advantage of the situation and ran from those horrible muggles.
Then he'd pulled a James and appeared among the group of first years. No note, no apologies, no "sorry I made you watch the headmaster cry," and all of Snape's sympathy disappeared.
And now his 'mama' kept him from his drink.
"Why do I have to be here?" He groaned.
Minerva showed up first with the Potter brat. He certainly looked fine and untraumatized - healthy and with that impish smile on his face! His shirt was tucked sloppily into his pants which were hemmed with dirt stains. His hair was as wild as his father's and his eyes - well Hagrid had always said when he'd carted the boy away to his relatives that his eyes had shone brightly in the night and looked just like Lily's. But Harry's eyes did not remind Snape of the soft blue-green of his mother - they looked rather like a radioactive glow, dangerous and wild. It unsettled him.
.....
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