Dumbledore bought me an owl as a birthday present. A snow white owl named Hedwig, 9 months old. She likes me more than Dumbledore, but perhaps the strangest thing is that I can know this about a living thing.
"Have you ever tried to learn from an animal before?" Dumbledore asks me as I eat some ice cream, his treat.
"A few neighbourhood cats, they don't really work." I say. "Although the lady that lives opposite me, Mrs. Figg, her cats seem to be more than they seem, but I've never gotten close enough to touch one." I scratch Hedwig's head softly. "Oh." I look up at him. "There was a snake once, in the garden. He actually spoke, like … words, I didn't even touch him." He almost drops his lemon ice-cream.
"A snake you say?" He asks, Suddenly curious.
"I was going to flick it over the fence with a stick, but he said 'Hello Harry' which isn't something snakes ought to do in my opinion." I shrug. "I asked for his name, but he said he didn't have one."
"And when did this exchange happen?"
"I would've been about 8." I start to eat the ice-cream cone.
"A talent perhaps best kept to yourself. There is a stigma attached to those that can speak with snakes." He says.
"Snakes?" Some kind of Biblical thing against them perhaps. "Isn't one of the Hogwarts houses the snake house?" I ask sceptically. He smiles and nods.
"Slytherin. Their house animal is a serpent." He clearly sees how it looks.
"Voldemort could." I suddenly say. "Those people in the pub, when they assaulted me, I learnt a couple of things. I think it was at the front of their minds when they saw me. I think people are different to objects, as far as my ability is concerned. I didn't draw everything from their heads thankfully. I think I'm happy with not being able to do that."
"And the same doesn't hold true for muggles?"
"Nope." I shake my head. "If they were really happy or angry I think I'd feel it, but I've never held onto somebody in a situation like that." I shrug.
"This is a truly remarkable skill." He says. "One can't help but marvel at it's uses, there are many old and historically significant objects in Hogwarts."
"Like walking through a museum and only I can see the plaques." I smile.
"17?" I sigh in frustration. "I can't use magic outside of school until I'm 17?"
Dumbledore and I sat down in the Leaky Cauldron after the shopping was done. Ignoring his protests, I decided to rent a room here for the night and make my own way to the train tomorrow morning. He's taken the time to explain some things.
"Only in front of muggles." He says calmly. "In Diagon Alley or even here." He gestures to the pub. "You may use low level spells."
"Is there a law prohibiting me from living here?" I ask. "I wouldn't classify myself as an unskilled child, as much as I might look like one, doesn't relative intelligence count for anything in this world?"
"Is Privet Drive such an unfitting home for you?" He asks.
"They are foul people." I say firmly. "They'd be just as foul if I didn't have this ability. I've managed to frighten them enough with it so they leave me alone."
"A discussion for another time, we have the whole school year to decide." He says, handing me a golden ticket. "Do not lose your ticket. The platform is located between platforms 9 and 10. Is there anything else you wish to know before I leave?"
"You haven't forgotten what I said about Peter Pettigrew, have you?"
"I will investigate what this new information may mean tonight." He says.
"Old information more like." I say under my breath as he walks through the fireplace.
"Platform 9 and ¾." I mutter to myself. "Ridiculous." I might've learnt a lot from walking around Diagon Alley and my parents wands, but I'm still surprised by the apparent lack of logic in everything.
"... Every year, packed with muggles." A woman says loudly from nearby. My prayers have been answered in the form of a slightly overweight, ginger haired woman. "Hurry, we'll be late!" The gaggle of her children trail on behind her, pushing their trolleys along. I opted for a trunk with wheels and a back pack. Hedwig can apparently find Hogwarts by herself. I follow the ginger family to a stop. "Percy first." She says.
The eldest looking one, Percy, pushes his cart towards the pillar in the centre of the station, I wait for the inevitable crash, but nothing happens.
"Put some shoes on, boy." A random passer by says to me. Shoes are overrated.
I wander over to the pillar once their family had passed through. It looks completely normal, although I suppose it's supposed to. I walk forward with my left hand extended, just in case. My worries are unfounded as I find myself stepping onto a platform full of people, magical people. The floor tells a thousand tales and the bright red train dominates the room, steam flowing around it. I leave my trunk in the seemingly capable hands of the luggage man. A bell chimes and sets everyone into a frenzy to get onto the train, eager not to be left behind, I step onto the nearest carriage.
The train hums with magic and it's very own history alongside the centuries of children getting on and off.
"Watch yourself." Somebody says, carrying a cat carrier over my head, I duck to give them a bit more space. "Cheers." They say, not sparing me a glance as they chase down their friend.
I enter an empty compartment and sit down, regretting the decision immediately. I can only hope that somebody washes these seats often. That and the previous users were alone, not something that should be done on a train. I close my eyes and reflect on my gatherings.