Harry couldn't handle his own emotions when he got back to the Dursley's after school the following day, and he knew his expression was a total mess and honestly didn't care.
He'd mailed the letter that morning on his way in and while it was stupid he'd decided to check the library on his way home—he blamed the utter torture this whole ordeal was causing him by messing with his emotions. He could handle himself when only faced with the Dursley's hate, like leaning against a brick wall that was marching forward at you and pushing it back. In the face of their disgust and ill-opinions, which they'd instilled in pretty much everyone in the local community too, all he had to do was not crack. Someone insults you, don't cry. Someone throws something at you, don't flinch. It was a simple cause and effect—no matter what, don't break from the blank mask he was wearing.
Now though, it's as if the wall he'd been pushing against had grown hands and leaned back—not only was he off-balance from this ever-present force suddenly not coming at him as it once was, but that force was hitting him from several new angles and he wasn't quite sure how to roll with those punches. Was he supposed to be happy or angry about this Hogwarts business? And if he didn't know how he was supposed to feel, then how was he supposed to act the opposite? What was he supposed to be feeling or doing right now, and how could he hide that from the world?
He didn't have answers and he didn't know how he felt much less how he should feel, so he checked the library in the vain hope there'd be a response already.
So it was therefore a bit of a shock, and not necessarily a pleasant one, to see yet another letter with his name on it at the front desk, a frowning librarian reminding him not to send post here as she handed it to him. That had been way faster than he was expecting, and he understandably freaked out, just barely keeping it together to not have the librarian kick him out before he marched quickly and quietly to the back corner of the library where old slightly-outdated encyclopedias lived. It was a rare day anyone came back here, so he knew he had a bit of privacy for the moment.
And privacy is what he needed, because there was no bloody way he was going to go straight back to the Dursleys and then have to act normal while he cooked and did his chores knowing this letter was sitting unopened in his cupboard. He needed to know what it said, and he needed to know now.
He ripped it open much faster than the last one, and his heart beat a little faster to see that it was actually a pretty long response—his eyes snapping to the text and drinking it in.
000
Dear Mr. Potter,
It is alarming news to hear you are unaware of magic, as I was under the impression your aunt and uncle would have informed you of this rather pertinent fact. Be assured I am not joking; you are a wizard as were both of your parents—both of whom were students of mine in the past. Rest assured James Potter and Lily Evans were most definitely magical, and you clearly were as well last I saw you when you were but an infant.
We have representatives who we have meet with students who were born to non-magical parents and not aware of magic before they receive their Hogwarts letter, however since you were on our list as being of magical decent and thought to have been previously informed by your aunt and uncle, I will have to make secondary arrangements for someone to come meet with you and answer some of your questions.
I am a tad concerned about your comment that no strangers or letters are welcome at your residence, but I will oblige for now. I will have someone meet you at this address you've provided this Saturday at 10am who will answer more about magic and help you gather your school gear for this coming year—if you accept this invitation to our esteemed school, that is.
To answer what I can for now, Hogwarts letters are generated by a self-writing quill with the addresses of students that is magically tracked in our ledger, which records when a magical child is born and to whom they are living with. I do not actually handle the letters more than signing off on them, and the owls take them on their way. Owls are how the magical community delivers letters, as they're extremely intelligent and can find their target anywhere in the world without our interference. I do not know what the owl who delivered your letter did nor what was wrong with it upon delivery but with more details I can look into it.
On that note, you may leave your letters for delivery outside at will with it addressed to 'Hogwarts' and an owl will come and collect it—they are on standby until newly accepted students reach Hogwarts their first time.
I look forward to hearing from you Mr. Potter,
Sincerely,
Minerva Mcgonagall
P.S—You did not know magic existed until you got your letter just now and are already asking to ride a broom. They are dangerous if you don't know what you're doing and as a first year you'll be allowed to take flying lessons with school-issued brooms, able to practice on them all you like under supervision, just not a broom of your own for the first year. We don't want young children just barely learning to control their magic flying off, never to be heard from again. Please take this warning seriously.
000
Harry read it twice.
The first thing that struck him, is that she seemed a little desperate in that last sentence and wondered what that was about. He didn't want to disappear forever of course and figured riding a broom would be similar to riding a bike—not that he'd ever done that before either, but he wouldn't go full speed the moment he got on either one of those rides and was a bit worried about why she seemed worried he would.
Then again, magic probably had tons of dangers he knew nothing about, having grown up in the normal world.
Then it hit him—he believed her.
He had to sit down and crouch behind a bookcase and breath deeply for several minutes until the shock wore off and his heart stopped trying to make a mad dash from his chest because holy hell he believed her.
Magic was real, he was a wizard…
He looked up and cleared his eyes, focusing on his next steps. Because magic was real, he was a wizard, and he needed a plan.
000
Getting a day free of the Dursleys was not hard; he'd had a contingency plan in place for several months in case he needed to get out for one reason or another. He'd been saving it for a rainy day, but this definitely counted as a worthy occasion.
Thursday night he quietly approached his aunt as she straightened up the living room he'd already cleaned, arranging pillows he'd already fluffed up an inch to the left and clicking her tongue like she was put upon to have to tidy up her own house that had already been cleaned.
"Aunt Petunia?"
"What is it." She snapped, not even looking at him.
"I have detention this Saturday at school."
That got her attention and her beady eyes went to him immediately, then down to the paper he was holding in his hand. She snatched it from his grip and sneered at it.
"What is this? A—a zero!?"
The test in question was peer-reviewed and since no one bothered to be his partner he'd looked it over himself. He's purposefully done poorly, but still got a C on it. He'd erased his own pencil markings and gone back over it with a bright red marker to mark every one of them wrong though, putting a bright "F" on the top for her enjoyment. He knew for a fact she wasn't going to actually read through it, nor would she know off the top of her head any of the specific geography questions on it even if she did. They were covering world countries after all, and she didn't even really care about her own neighbors much less the capital cities in Africa.
Her reaction was as expected, and she sneered impressively, clearly trying to keep from grinning.
"It's almost an achievement to be this stupid. Do they want you in supplementary lessons then?"
"No, the teacher said I was too dumb to fix and just gave me detention so I'd not get another zero." He was quiet and subdued like this hurt him to say. He didn't care when she let out a wild cackle, glad he didn't over-do it.
"That's rich," she hissed in mirth, forgetting to sneer and now just grinning at the paper before shoving it into his chest. "Go hang this on the fridge boy, next to Dudley's. Enjoy your detention."
"I'll be gone all day… should I do chores when I get home?"
"No—when you get home go straight to your cupboard as punishment." She said, but her grin clearly said she didn't give a flip that he was actually punished for this, and probably really wanted him to fail again just so she could be this amused in the future too. He wasn't pleased about the cupboard situation, but it was probably for the best as the day might tire him out and this way he could sneak in and claim he was in his cupboard longer than he was if the outing took longer than expected. And they wouldn't be expecting to see him at all, which would make the cover easier.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia." He took the paper back to the kitchen to hang on the fridge and start dinner.
Now, he only had to wait for Saturday to come.
000
Meeting Hagrid was a surreal experience.
Not only was he HUGE and wild-looking, but he coupled the terrifying look with a bright pink umbrella and one of the sweetest personalities Harry had ever had the chance of meeting. Giant, hulking, intimidating as his presence was as he lumbered up the street and straight up the walk to the library and the front bench where Harry was waiting, as soon as he noticed the wide-eyed look he was getting from the small child on the bench, his beetle-black eyes lit up in sparkles and even through the crazy beard he had you could tell the man was grinning happily.
"Is'at you 'Arry? Blimey if you ain't grown!"
First of all, how did this man know him? Secondly, who was he? The first answer was reasonably quick to come as he was probably the representative McGonagall said she'd send, so even though he'd half been expecting her or another woman, (and this guy was the polar OPPOSITE) he quickly got his composure back, clearing his throat.
"Um… who are you?"
"Name's Hagrid—Keeper o' the Keys at Hogwarts! McGonagall told ya someone from Hogwarts would be comin' to show ya around the Alley, right?"
Harry smiled a bit hesitantly, but earnestly. "Right, she did say that. I'm Harry… but ah, you knew that…? Somehow?"
"Sure thing I do!" He beamed, and Harry got the vibe of a puppy. It softened him a little bit to this stranger. "I knew yer parents when they were at Hogwarts—dat father o' yours was a right prankster so I chased 'im and his friends away from the forest for seven years ya know. And I was there when you were a baby—I 'elped drop ya off at yer aunt's that night yer parents were killed, and you was just so tiny. Look at you all grown!"
Harry blinked rapidly. That was a lot to take in. But… this man knew his parents, just like McGonagall did. Harry felt himself trust him, just a little more.
But one thing bothered him.
"Have you ever met my aunt?"
"Ah, no, can't say I 'ave. Did she want ta come with, today?"
"No, she definitely doesn't." He smiled a bit nervously, brushing that thought off as quickly as possible. "I, um… this is going to sound a bit stupid but… magic is real, right? This isn't a joke?"
The giant man's eyes darkened. "Oh ya, McGonagall told me yer aunt and uncle never said anything about you bein' a wizard. Well ya are, I promise ya that! I'm not suppose ta do magic so I can't prove it out here where there could be muggles about, but I can show you Diagon Alley—where ya can buy yer school stuffs, and there's tons o' magic to be seein' there. Yer Lily and James' son and they were some o' the finest witch and wizard I ever met, I promise you—yer gonna be a wonderful wizard Harry I'm sure of it!"
Quite frankly, Harry was touched.
He might have teared up, it was hard to say. He had a lot of practice in schooling his expression, but in that moment he didn't feel like using any of those learned skills at all. This giant lump of a man was just so bright and earnest he felt his face reflecting that earnest automatically—and it kind of alarmed him.
True to form though instead of bursting into tears he quickly changed gears before he started bawling. "Thanks Hagrid—ah, what are muggles exactly?"
"Non-magic folk," he supplied easily, either not noticing or not caring about the sudden shift in conversation as his black eyes grinned down at him cheerily, and Harry had a feeling it was the former. All that told him though, was that Hagrid was a bit slow on the uptake… and he was genuinely kind, to have said something like that for no other ulterior motive than that he believed it to be true.
Okay, he definitely teared up a bit.
No more, he reminded himself quietly. You wanted to be free, didn't you?
… Harry took a breath and smiled widely up at the Keeper of the Keys looking curiously down at him.
"Okay. I believe you, Hagrid—let's see what this is all about."
000
"Bit hot for a hat, don't ya think?" Hagrid commented casually as they rode the subway wherever it was that they were going. Boring as traveling was most days, watching Hagrid try to navigate a bus, a train, and a subway, commenting all the clever 'muggle inventions' a bit too loudly and then whipping out a huge crochet blanket to work on while they rumbled along their way out of seemingly nowhere, was far more entertaining than it had any right to be. As they went along Harry asked question after question and learned quite a bit in a relatively short amount of time.
First, Hagrid was knowledgeable about the magical world on a basic level but was the equivalent of a janitor or groundskeeper at Hogwarts who actually didn't care much about daily news or magical advancements, seeing as he couldn't use it for some reason (and don't think Harry didn't notice him clutching that pink umbrella and get shifty when talking about that—right off the bat Harry was fully aware that Hagrid could not lie to save his life, which was good). He was also not a very good teacher as he skimmed over things far too hastily, taking for granted that he apparently grew up knowing this stuff and it was all brand new to Harry—had he not been paying more attention to everything Hagrid was saying that he'd ever paid attention to someone in his life Harry was sure he'd be lost in seconds. He was also confirmed to be a bit slow, and also insanely loyal to this Dumbledore fellow, who Harry took no time at all extracting from Hagrid was the one who placed Harry with the Dursleys and the Headmaster of this school he was now invited to attend.
From the way Hagrid spoke of the man, he was Jesus 2.0. Hagrid was earnest and easily manipulated and this Dumbledore seemed to be in a position of power and highly respected, meaning he knew damn well how to play a good game of words, Harry had no doubt. He'd known Hagrid less than two hours and was already a bit miffed over the fact this Headmaster was manipulating someone nice like Hagrid, but then again, people let themselves be manipulated at the heart of things and this Keeper of the Keys was easy pickings. He couldn't fault this mystery guy since Harry was actively coercing information from him under the guise of a friendly conversation himself, and he had good intentions, so… he'd hold off on judgement of this Headmaster for the moment. Regardless, Hagrid was happy as he was, so Harry made a note to come back to that thought train later.
In his series of questions, he'd started with why he was accepted at Hogwarts. Turns out all magical children got an invite, so score. Then he asked about school supplies and how he'd pay for it—apparently this "Diagon Alley" was a place where you could buy everything (odd, but sure why not), and there was a bank run by actual goblins who Hagrid warned not to mess with and that his parents had left him a trust vault that would cover his school supplies. He asked about who was in charge of the magical world—did they have a king? A democracy?—and it turns out they had a Ministry of Magic with a Minister and parliament called a 'Wizamont' or something. Apparently Dumbledore also sat on that and Harry only got more suspicious because clearly he was someone to keep an eye on. A Headmaster of the only wizarding school and a politician? Uh-huh.
Thanks to Hagrid's rather long, rambling answers, just those questions took most of their time and they were approaching their stop when Hagrid popped in the query about his hat in the moment of silence as Harry pondered what his most pressing next question should be. If he hadn't known that Hagrid was 100% just curious and held no judgement for why he was wearing a hat in the middle of July (he was wearing a huge coat, after all) Harry would've deflected the question. As it was, he paused, and then the voice sounded that this was their stop and he couldn't answer in the bustle to get off—coming up the stairs to stand in the middle of a busy London sidewalk.
Harry had only ever been to this part of London once or twice, and soaked up the scenes around him eagerly.
"In here!" Hagrid pulled him off to the side, pointing down the street to a very shabby looking pub. "That's the Leaky Cauldron—an entrance to the Wizardin' World if ya know how to look." He grinned excitedly.
"What's to stop normal—uh, muggles from just walking in then? I thought you said it's a big secret."
"Muggle-repelling charms. Watch—most people can't see it, der eyes slide righ' by." He pointed at some passersby who gave him funny looks, but watching those who weren't glaring at Hagrid, he did notice that they seemed to turn their heads past it as if looking from the shop on one side, to the shop on the other side of the pub as if the bar wasn't even there. That was kind of cool, actually.
"Now that I think o' it, the hat was a good idea! Everyone would be wantin' ta shake yer hand and we only got a coupla hours, don' we?" Hagrid mused to himself as they made their wat towards the pub, and Harry paused.
…what?
"Shake my hand? Why?"
Hagrid blinked, as if realizing something and looking down at the boy beside him. His face went alight in realization.
"…ah!"
000
Harry gripped the edges of his beanie, and pulled it as far down as he could to bury his face out of view, groaning a bit as his head spun from this information.
Hagrid was kind enough to buy him something called a butterbeer in this dingy wizards' pub (and it was delicious, score!) but the fascination at the tasty drink and his wandering eyes at all the strangely dressed people in the room was thrown from his mind the second Hagrid started explaining.
He was famous. His parents had been bloody murdered. There was some Dark Lord out there everyone was too afraid to even say the name of who he apparently killed as a one-year-old (Hagrid looked ready to faint when said 'Voldemort' but Harry appreciated the effort, since he knew Harry would need to know even if he really hadn't wanted to say it).
He was famous as The Boy Who Lived in this magical world and Hagrid had been told he was sent to live in the muggle world to be raised since Dumbledore didn't want him growing up with fame going to his head, or something like that.
Harry thought back to the cupboard waiting for him later tonight somewhere in suburban Surrey and decided he did not appreciate this Headmaster meddling in his life one bit. Given that Hagrid was his #1 fan he kept that thought to himself though.
He was suddenly very grateful for his hat that he was hiding his face in—and more importantly thrilled that he'd gotten into the habit of hiding his scar. What fresh hell would that have been, given the way Hagrid was talking about it, he wasn't sure he could handle total strangers he did not trust half as much as he trusted Hagrid (which wasn't total trust since he'd met the man today after all, but still he trusted this groundskeeper more than any Dursley already, that was for sure) coming up to him and babbling about something that happened when he was one, and something that resulted in the death of his parents at that.
Yeah, no thank you. Hard pass on that one.
"And you're telling me most of the wizarding world would recognize me on sight? How?"
"Don' know about that—someone musta seen you at some point and there's tons o' books written about you." Hagrid shrugged, sipping his own large mug happily.
Harry couldn't even begin to process that statement on top of everything else, so he shelved it.
"Plus, yer father was a good man and well liked in school—plus 'Potter' is an old family name. Mosta the old families could recognize a Potter anywhere." Hagrid continued on, oblivious to Harry's silent struggling beside him.
So he looked like his father? He pressed his lips together thoughtfully.
"I look like a Potter? I've never seen pictures of my parents; you think I look like my dad?"
Hagrid paused and looked down at the small boy beside him, frowning and his shiny black eyes narrowing. "I'm really not likin' these muggles much, 'Arry." He hummed deeply. "They never even showed ya a picture o' them?"
"Ah… no."
"Hogwash!" Hagrid burst out, causing Harry to jump a bit in surprise. "What downrigh' 'orrible muggles—yer Lily and James' child and ya don' even know wha' they look like! Absolute cobswallop!"
Harry didn't really recognize that term but just went with it, trying to get off this topic and back to the point before his curiosity killed him.
"Please Hagrid? I've never seen my parents and I'm dead curious—do I look like my dad?" He insisted, shamelessly pulling at the 'poor orphan' heartstring and it worked like a charm when Hagrid's anger derailed and gave the boy his undivided attention. He had tried it before but no one had actually cared that he was an orphan before as there was a surprisingly large amount of heartless adults in his life and he had no problem playing dirty to get at those kinds of people. He felt a little bad using it on Hagrid, but he was curious darn it!
"Oh no, o' course ya do! Ah, well, actually ya got yer mother's eyes o' course… and I see more in yer face o' her's than his actually." So no, was what Harry was hearing. He looked like his mother.
He looked like his mother.
He smiled at that.
"Ah! Hey there Hagrid, showing a new student around the Alley?" A toothless man came hobbling up to them, pointing at the mug. "Can I get ya another?"
"Blimey, look at the time! Nah, thanks Tom we got to get going. Need to get young 'Arry here his books!" Hagrid said a little too loudly—though thankfully no one but this Tom fellow was paying him any attention.
At his words though the man's eyes went wide and he studied the boy in front of him closely, blinking once.
"Harry Potter?" He said in an awed, reverent tone. Harry was instantly creeped out.
"Uh… hello." He greeted awkwardly, sinking behind Hagrid slightly and fixing his beanie to make sure even his make-up concealed scar was firmly out of sight. The motion seemed to knock some sense into Tom and he jerked back slightly.
"It's an honor to meet you, my boy—I hope you enjoy the Alley today, feel free to come back for a nip any time!" He greeted cheerily, clearing up their drinks with a bright smile shot his way and hobbling off. Harry was thankful he seemed aware enough to keep his voice down throughout that exchange, an no one else looked up from their drinks to pay him any mind.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He did not want that kind of tone and 'honor' talk from literally everyone he met—he might go insane.
"Tom's a good guy, he owns this place an' is a trustworthy kinda guy," Hagrid explained as he got up, Harry quickly following him to the back of the pub. Not that Harry didn't believe that statement, but he didn't believe Hagrid wasn't just spouting rhetoric he'd been told either, so he kept his right to reserve judgement until further notice about how trustworthy that Tom guy was or was not.
"Now pay attention, as this is 'ow ya will get to an' from, ya just gotta tap these bricks." Hagrid instructed, using his pink umbrella to tap a couple bricks in a specific pattern.
Harry wasn't sure what he was expecting, given that he only believed in magic in theory at this moment and had never seen practical magic performed in front of his face just yet, but the wall moving on it's own to fold back and basically break every rule of physics he only vaguely knew about to melt away was a shock and a half to his system.
And that shock was quickly outdone by the absolute gut-wrenching sight of what lay beyond the wall.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley, 'Arry!"