July 30. 11:59 p.m.
In one minute, Harry Potter would turn eleven.
A terrible storm raged outside the window, battering the walls of the ramshackle shack with all its fury. It seemed that one slightly stronger blow would bring the house down. But that was an illusion. The hurricane kept gathering strength while the house stood firm, its efforts producing nothing but a terrible racket.
The racket did not disturb the shack's temporary occupants. A married couple slept restlessly in one room, both plagued by nightmares caused by the same thing: mysterious letters addressed to their nephew. Vernon and Petunia were terrified of anything strange that might become part of their lives.
In the next room, two cousins slept. One lay beneath a rug in the far corner. The other had taken his cousin's pillow and blanket and was sprawled in the middle of the room. One pillow was wedged beneath his feet, two blankets covered him, and his head rested on another pillow.
Physical comfort did nothing for his emotional well-being.
Dudley was suffering terribly, at least by his own standards. He had missed a whole string of television shows he had planned to watch. The food was bland and tasteless, there was almost nothing to do, and his parents were not spoiling him much either. His mother was too strict, while his father had become obsessed with some kind of pursuit.
The only happy person in the house was Harry Potter.
He had been this happy only once before, on his eighth birthday. It would have been difficult to reach that conclusion by looking at him, though. He was dressed in old, baggy clothes that had belonged to his cousin Dudley. Harry had not taken them off that night because the house was cold, and the rug he used as a blanket was not warm enough, despite being extremely comfortable.
Harry Potter had a scar on the right side of his neck, a burn on his chin, and dirty, unruly hair. He was also extremely thin from constantly going hungry. Despite his appearance, however, Harry slept with a smile on his face.
He had plenty of reasons to be in a good mood. Piers and his gang were nowhere around. The terrible hurricane outside meant that whoever had been sending Harry letters definitely would not be able to find him. And Harry liked the secluded house, surrounded by water, because there would be no other people around.
Harry allowed himself to dream that, when he grew up, he would buy the house and live there all alone.
He was having nothing but pleasant dreams, too. A few minutes earlier, the dream had changed again, and Harry began dreaming that someone was giving him a birthday cupcake.
Unfortunately, Harry was not destined to enjoy his imaginary cupcake.
In exactly twenty-two seconds, or twenty-one by now, the door would shudder beneath the blow of a half-giant who, contrary to Harry's hopes, had managed to find him after all.
Dudley Dursley's digital clock showed four zeros.
At once, a loud bang struck the door and woke everyone in the house.
"Where's the gun?" Dudley asked groggily, still half asleep.
Uncle Vernon hurried over, panting, with a shotgun in his hands. It was not entirely clear where he had gotten it, but the speed with which he had appeared suggested that he had been prepared for this sort of development.
He aimed the weapon at the door and took a step back.
"Who's there?" Vernon shouted. "I'm warning you, I'm armed!"
With a loud crack, the door flew off its hinges and fell into the house.
A gigantic man entered the shack.
Harry had never seen anyone so big. The man's sheer size was terrifying, so Harry cowered in a corner and hid completely beneath his rug-blanket. He was sure this was the giant who had been sending him the letters.
Maybe if the giant did not notice him, he would leave.
"Well, how about making us a cup of tea?" the giant said. "Wasn't easy getting here, was it? I'm tired."
Without waiting for an answer, he looked carefully over everyone in the shack, then walked up to Dudley.
"Are you Harry? I pictured you a little differently. A bit thinner. Oh, well. Here's your letter. It's about time you finally read it."
With that, the giant held out a letter to Dudley.
At least, that was what Harry thought. Lying beneath the rug, barely moving with terror, he could not see anything.
He was right. The giant really was looking for him.
What should he do? He had to act, and quickly.
Harry cautiously peeked out from beneath the rug. As if in slow motion, he watched a look of understanding appear on Dudley's face.
"I'm not Harry. Harry's over there." His cousin pointed toward the corner.
Harry felt his hands begin to tremble. There was no way out.
With his heart pounding, he watched the giant slowly approach him.
"And here's our Harry!" the giant said cheerfully. "You were only a little thing the last time I saw you."
"Our" Harry searched for a way to escape. He was about to jump out the window, but remembered in time that there was water all around and nowhere to run anyway.
When the giant came almost within arm's reach, Harry finally found the strength to act. He sprang up and ran to another corner, closer to Uncle Vernon and his shotgun.
The giant found this behavior strange. He stopped, seemed to think it over, and then said, "Harry, don't be afraid of me. I'm Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."
Don't be afraid?
Yeah, right.
"I brought you a present. Here." Hagrid held out some kind of box.
At the same time, taking advantage of Hagrid's attention being fixed on Harry, Petunia grabbed Dudley by the hand and fled into the next room.
Harry looked fearfully at the box. It looked quite ordinary, but that meant absolutely nothing.
If he had been afraid of the giant before, he was now absolutely terrified.
A present?
It had to be a trap.
Piers had offered him tea first, too.
Harry hid behind Uncle Vernon's back.
"Shoot!" he whispered, barely audibly. The last thing he needed was for the giant to hear him.
Uncle Vernon did nothing.
Harry looked at him in surprise. He had thought Vernon was his ally in this confrontation. But it turned out that Vernon was just as much a victim as Harry, and almost as afraid of the giant as he was.
"Harry, don't run away from me. I won't hurt you." Hagrid held out the wretched envelope. "Here, take the letter. I promise, if you don't want to, you don't have to go to the school."
"If you don't want to, you don't have to." It sounded good, almost too good to be true, but also good enough to believe.
Harry cautiously approached and took the envelope, making sure not to touch Hagrid's hands. Then he retreated a couple of steps, opened it, and pulled out the letter.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been offered a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of the books and supplies you will need.
The school year begins on September 1.
We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress!
Harry did not even bother reading the list. It was a very stupid attempt to lure him out of the house.
"What kind of nonsense is this? If you want to beat me, then beat me, but you won't trick me!" Harry said loudly, emboldened.
Hagrid looked at the boy with even greater horror than Harry had looked at the giant, despite Harry's show of bravery.
"Harry... what are you saying? Don't you know? You're a wizard!" Hagrid said cautiously.
"Very convincing!" Harry replied sarcastically.
He knew the giant could crush him with one hand, but he was determined not to let himself be fooled. He had never been able to stand up to his bullies. The only thing he could do was refuse to be tricked.
"Wait, wait, Harry! Can you remember anything strange happening when you were upset or angry?" Hagrid asked quickly.
Harry thought about it.
Actually, there had been one such occasion. Dudley had torn up Harry's homework notebook right in front of a teacher, and instead of punishing Dudley, the woman had punished Harry. She refused to believe that Potter had not done it himself to cover up the fact that he had failed to do his homework.
Harry had been terribly upset, and somehow he had turned her hair pink. All his classmates laughed through the entire lesson. The cherry on top was that, for some reason, the color would not wash out. The teacher was even fired the next day for coming to school looking inappropriate.
The headmaster did not seem to like her much either.
From that day on, pink became Harry's favorite color. Whenever he spotted it somewhere, he remembered the joy he had felt when, for a brief time, he had stopped being an outcast. Even Dudley had gained a little respect for him, stopped hitting him, and only teased him harmlessly...
Then Piers showed up a month later, and everything changed.
For a moment, Harry allowed himself to believe that he really was a wizard. Then he immediately grew angry with himself for it.
Why, then, had he not been able to heal his leg with magic after another round of torture? If he could have, he might have gone to the zoo for the first time in his life, for Dudley's birthday. Or when Dennis had burned his chin, why had Dennis not turned into a toad? Harry had been feeling strong emotions then, too.
But the incident with the teacher's hair had happened, and there was no explaining it.
He needed proof.
"Are you a wizard?" Harry asked Hagrid.
"Er... sort of," the giant said hesitantly.
"Prove it!" the boy demanded.
"But, Harry, there'll be plenty more demonstrations at Hogwarts," Hagrid tried to evade.
"Prove it! Or I'm not going anywhere!" Harry was adamant.
He truly did not intend to leave even after being shown proof, but still.
"Don't you dare! No magic in my house!" a voice called out.
Harry looked at Uncle Vernon in surprise. He had already forgotten that he and Hagrid were not the only ones in the house.
Vernon had stayed silent the entire time Harry needed help and had only spoken up when something strange came up. Harry disliked him even more now. He hated Vernon more than Petunia and Dudley.
Harry decided to ignore him, feeling somewhat supported by the giant, and turned back to Hagrid.
"Come on. If you want me to go to your Hogwarts, then prove to me that magic exists."
Hagrid looked around the house for something to enchant. His gaze settled on the fireplace, which Vernon had been unsuccessfully trying to light with crisp packets.
"Just don't tell anyone, all right?" Hagrid asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "I'm going to light the fireplace with magic."
"No!" Harry cried, afraid of what might happen.
For a second, he imagined a huge fire leaping from the fireplace onto him.
"No fire. Do something else."
"If you pull out that thing in here, I won't be responsible for what I do!" Vernon shouted.
With trembling hands, he aimed the shotgun at Hagrid.
Hagrid suddenly produced a pink umbrella from somewhere.
A red flash flared.
Fire?! Harry thought in horror.
But a moment later, the flash vanished, and he saw Uncle Vernon lying unconscious on the floor.
That was proof.
It felt as if an explosion had gone off inside Harry's head.
Magic existed!
The giant was a wizard.
Harry was a wizard too!
Harry stared at the pink umbrella with awe and wild delight.
"When can I get one of those?" he asked, gazing reverently at it.
"You believe me?"
"Brilliant!" Hagrid beamed. "I'm afraid you can't get an umbrella like this anywhere, but in Diagon Alley you'll be able to get something even better. You can buy a wand!"
Harry remembered the magicians who had visited his school, waving their magic wands and shouting things like, "Hocus-pocus."
Potter grimaced. He did not much like that kind of magic.
"There's no way to get an umbrella like this?" Harry asked.
"No. I'm the only one who has one. Why do you like it more than a wand?" Hagrid asked in surprise.
"It's pink," Harry answered shortly.
Hagrid looked at him with mild surprise.
"All right, let's get some sleep, before your relatives come back or this one wakes up." Hagrid nodded toward Uncle Vernon. "And I reckon you wouldn't want to explain things to them any more than I would."
Harry really was sleepy, despite the burst of happiness that came with discovering magic. He took Dudley's bedding and lay down in the far corner, trying not to think about the discovery that had just landed in his lap.
Maybe if he went to sleep quickly, none of this would disappear by tomorrow.
Before going to bed, Hagrid took Uncle Vernon's shotgun and bent it badly.
"Just in case he decides to get revenge," Hagrid explained.
Harry could no longer hear him. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, his head buried in the pillow.
It was his happiest birthday ever.
Harry woke to an incredibly irritating tapping at the window. For a couple of minutes, he tried to ignore it because he was so sleepy. Hagrid's arrival the previous night, or rather, earlier that morning, had kept Harry from getting enough sleep.
But the tapping would not stop.
The boy got up and found an owl at the window with an envelope in its beak.
Harry was not even surprised. Somehow, the night's events all made sense now, and so did the arrival of the bird.
He calmly opened the window, letting the creature fly into the room and make its way to Hagrid.
Great, he can deal with it, Harry thought, and headed back to his sleeping place.
"Pay her," Hagrid grumbled unhappily.
Apparently, the owl had kept him from sleeping, too.
"I don't have anything to pay with," Harry replied. He immediately lay down so he could fall asleep again.
About two hours later, Hagrid woke him.
"Get up, Harry. We still have shopping to do," a voice broke through his sleep.
Taking Potter's mumbling for agreement, Hagrid returned to what he had been doing.
The boy got up and began looking for his clothes. After searching for about two minutes, he remembered that he had gone to bed dressed.
Harry mentally slapped himself on the forehead.
Well, what could he say?
How stupid.
As Harry left the shack, the door behind him slowly creaked open, then slammed shut. The boy managed to turn around and catch sight of Aunt Petunia.
She was checking whether they had left, he realized.
Hagrid was already sitting in the boat. He tried to take Harry's hand to help him climb over the side, but Harry immediately jumped back, pulling his hand away.
"Hagrid, could you please not touch me?" Harry tried to calm his pounding heart. That simple gesture had thrown him off balance. "I'll climb into the boat myself, and you can sit at the other end."
"Er... all right, Harry," Hagrid said uncertainly.
By the time they reached the shore, Harry had learned the answers to all his questions.
Who were his parents, and what had happened to them? Why had Voldemort been unable to kill him? Who was Albus Dumbledore? When would Harry be able to use magic? What spells were there? What was studying at Hogwarts like? What were Muggles?
And much more.
Harry even stopped flinching when Hagrid looked at him, but he still would not let Hagrid touch him. All in all, he had learned a great deal of useful and interesting information.
There were four houses at Hogwarts. Slytherin was for cunning dark wizards. Ravenclaw was for the clever. Hufflepuff was for the friendly, hardworking, and honest. Gryffindor was for brave, loyal, noble fighters against dark wizards, like Harry's parents.
Harry suspected that Hagrid's opinion was somewhat biased. He spoke far too highly of Gryffindor and far too negatively of Slytherin.
If Slytherin was a house for dark wizards, why hadn't they gotten rid of it?
Harry doubted that he was friendly, let alone brave, but he knew nothing about the wizarding world either. And he did not want to join the house of the person who had killed his parents. Hagrid had told Potter that story only after Harry asked the question for the third time.
So Harry decided he would have to ask about the house-sorting process.
Harry also learned that there was some kind of spell to protect against fire, but according to Hagrid, he would not be studying it for quite a while. The giant had reacted rather strangely when Harry asked him to teach him the spell. Potter guessed that Hagrid did not know it himself.
It seemed Harry would have to get ahead of the curriculum and learn the charm on his own.
Or ask someone. There would surely be other wizards at Hogwarts.
To Harry's horror, he also learned that he would not be able to use magic at the Dursleys' until he came of age, because the Ministry of Magic would be monitoring his home. The only way he might be able to use magic without consequences was through an accidental Magical Outburst.
But Hagrid said there was no way to cause one deliberately.
Harry decided not to despair. He would buy some books and study the subject. By the way, where were all these books sold? Harry did not remember seeing anything about magic in the shops.
He would have noticed.
Probably.
"Hagrid, can I ask one more question?" Harry asked for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Make it the last one. We're almost there, and we need to hurry because we left late," Hagrid replied.
Harry thought it over. He had to use his last question on something important, something he would not be able to ask about later. He considered all the questions he wanted answered and finally chose the most interesting one.
"How are the Dursleys going to get back?" Harry asked.
"What do you mean?" Hagrid asked, confused.
"Well, we got to the shack with them in the boat that you and I are using to leave now. So I'm wondering how they'll get off the island," Harry explained.
Hagrid did not answer. He rowed, staring thoughtfully into the distance. The longer he thought, the more clearly nervousness appeared on his face.
Although Harry did not get an answer, he was satisfied.
At last, they arrived.
"Harry, don't tell anyone I showed you magic. And don't tell them about the Dursleys, either," the half-giant said as he walked along the ferry.
"Of course, Hagrid. I'll be as silent as a fish," Harry replied honestly.
It was not as if he had anyone to tell.
They walked for about fifteen minutes, then took the Underground and quickly got off at a station whose name Harry forgot as soon as he heard it. Harry was used to the Underground. Although there were lots of people there, none of them paid him any attention.
It was different on weekday mornings, when the trains were packed. Fortunately, it was summer, and the Underground was almost empty.
While Hagrid admired the escalators, Harry decided that he had forgotten about the last question and that he could ask him something else.
"Hagrid, where exactly are we going?"
"There's a place in central London. A pub called the Leaky Cauldron. It's invisible to Muggles. There's an entrance there to the wizarding world. I'll show you."
They left the Underground and almost immediately stopped beside a tiny, unremarkable pub.
"Here we are," Hagrid said.
"The Leaky Cauldron."
The pub was very dark and, to Harry's delight, nearly empty. But when he and Hagrid entered, everyone inside stared at them.
Harry's heart sank.
The bartender reached for a glass and said, "The usual, Hagrid?"
Harry exhaled. They were looking at Hagrid, not him.
"Can't, Tom. I'm here on Hogwarts business." Hagrid patted Harry on the shoulder.
"Good heavens," the bartender said, staring intently at the boy. "Is this... could this be... Harry Potter?"
Oh no. Not this.
Harry backed away a couple of steps in horror.
Now everyone was staring at him. The people who had been sitting down just seconds earlier quickly came over to him. They spoke almost at once.
"It's a great honor, Mr. Potter."
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter. I can't believe I've finally met you!"
"Welcome home, Mr. Potter. Welcome home."
"I'm so happy, Mr. Potter. I can't even tell you how happy I am. My name is Diggle, Dedalus Diggle!"
"I've always wanted to shake your hand... I'm trembling all over."
Harry panicked. Every escape route was blocked, and hands were reaching out to him from every direction, waiting to be shaken.
At last, he could not take it anymore and collapsed into blessed darkness.