(no subject)
Title: Year One: The Philosopher's Stone (Ch. 2/?)
Series: The Letter Series (Year 1/7)
Author: Synteis
Beta: Mako-chan
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Draco in the future, mentions of others
Rating: PG-13 for now
Warnings: Slytherin!Harry, AU.
Summary: Harry doesn't bring his Hogwarts letter into the kitchen and hides it from his aunt and uncle instead. One small decision changes the course of his life. Slytherin!Harry, eventually Harry/Draco (circa book four or five) and mentor!Snape.
Author's Note: I've found a beta and I am overwhelmed by the positive response I've gotten from the first two chapters. The third chapter should be along by next Sunday, that will contain Harry's visit to Diagon Alley and the first appearance of Snape. I hope that you can't wait. This should continue at this pace, being updated every Sunday for the rest of the summer. I'll warn you the week before if that won't be the case but hopefully everything will work out. This is also on AO3 and FF.net under the same username if you prefer a different format.
Chapter Two: The Visit to Mrs. Figg's
Harry was surprised when he returned to number four, Privet Drive that little seemed to have changed since he had left earlier that morning. After all of his adventures that day, Alfred and the funny man in the orange cloak, Privet Drive's perfect lawns and neat flower beds seemed more stifling than ever before. The nervousness he'd felt in the post office had been changed into a strange energy and impatience. Now that he had sent his letter after so much worrying over it, he wanted a response quickly.
At the same time, he felt a huge relief and triumph. He had beaten the Dursleys, beaten Dudley. Always before his defiance had been by accident, like when his hair grew back or when he'd escaped Dudley's gang. But this time was different for another reason too. He hadn't been caught, hadn't been punished. For once, he'd won. Harry had never had so grand of an adventure and now he'd had one like he'd always dreamed. And it wasn't over yet; it could end the way all of his best dreams ended with him leaving the Dursleys forever, leaving his cupboard behind forever.
Harry walked through the door of number four as quiet as he could, but even that couldn't hide the bounce in his step. He was met with absolute silence. Never before had Harry been in the house without the sound of the television or of a video game, of Uncle Vernon's grumble or Aunt Petunia's high screeching. There was no sound of Dudley crunching crisps. There was absolute silence.
But the house was not empty. Uncle Vernon sat in the biggest chair in the television room, overstuffed and leather-covered. His face appeared to have been simmering up to a deep plum for quite a while. He had a handful of papers scrunched in one of his overlarge fists and beads of sweats were appearing on his forehead.
Aunt Petunia looked at once frightened and angry and was standing in front of Dudley, although she looked as though she would like nothing more than to run away.
Dudley was the only Dursley who was neither scared nor angry. Instead, he was gleeful. His round face stretched into a wide grin, and he kept rubbing his fists as though he was looking for a target.
Harry's heart, which had just moments ago been happier than ever before, sank. He could guess where the papers were from. He had been rushed and excited that morning and had not remembered to bring his drafts with him. They had remained poorly hidden in his room, and Aunt Petunia must have found them when she had gone cleaning.
"What is this filth boy and what were you doing with it in your room!" roared Uncle Vernon. He grasped at the papers harder and a few began to tear.
"I don't allow funny business in my house! Where did you hear about that place?"
Harry began cowering. Uncle Vernon seldom hit him, but he threw him around when he got angry. Harry had only just been let out of his cupboard and he had not yet stopped being hungry. He had missed lunch that day in order to prepare for his outing and he now regretted that strongly. His stomach growled and Uncle Vernon's angry face twisted into a cruel smile.
"You'll be missing dinner tonight and tomorrow, boy, as it is; but until you tell me where you heard of that school, you won't be getting any food and you won't be leaving your cupboard!"
Harry didn't know what to say. Normally, his uncle wanted to hear nothing from him, not apologies or excuses, and Harry didn't know how to make his punishment any less severe.
"I was... I was..." stammered Harry. He had often dreamed of running away. He could imagine himself yelling at Uncle Vernon and Dudley and Aunt Petunia, telling them how much he hated them, yelling loud enough that all the neighbours heard and they had to move away. But he didn't know if Hogwarts was real and, even if it was, he couldn't get there. He was stuck at number four and he knew that there was no way to escape his punishment.
"You don't appreciate what we did for you. We've put a roof over your head, boy, let you live and eat with us and how do you thank us, how do you reward our charity? It's not normal, you never were but we knew that we could break it out of you. But your parents were always bad sorts, and Marge has always said that blood wills out. Now, we find that you've been poisoning us, we know that all this time you've been hurting our Dudley with your," and here his voice, which had previously been a roar, dropped to an angry whisper, "magic."
At that word, Petunia jumped backwards. Harry still said nothing.
Although the abuse continued after that, Harry tried as hard as he could to ignore it. He focused instead on his brand new dream. It started with the crest on his letter, the purple seal with the flourished H and all of the animals. Next, he started hearing the name repeated in his head, slowly getting louder and louder, more and more joyful and hopeful. He saw the badger slowly, but steadily moving free from her wax prison, the lion striding proudly, lifting his paws, like a show horse. The eagle soared above them, always looking higher, while the snake twisted around the feet of the badger and the lion, climbing up their bodies, until he was curled on the lion's head, its tongue tasting the air and carefully watching the world around him.
They were held strong, a wall that he could hide behind. Once he was behind them, far, far away from the Dursleys, they seemed to smile at him. Harry noticed that the snake resembled the boa he had freed, his first friend. Once he was safe behind them, he began remembering the feel of the vellum under his fingertips and the Deputy Headmistress' flourished writing.
Harry barely noticed when he was thrown into his cupboard by the scruff of his neck. He landed half on the floor, half on his cot, and once Uncle Vernon had stridden away, he felt for his main hiding spot. His heart was in his mouth as he felt for the loose floorboard. As he found the edge, he remembered his vision for strength and then quickly lifted it up and felt underneath it. The papers scratched his hand and he came back from the experience with a paper cut. Worried for the safety of this spot, Harry removed his Hogwarts letter and hid it under his shirt, next to his heart. He went to sleep, clutching his heart.
#
Harry had not been locked in the cupboard for very long when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon took Piers and Dudley out to London. As per usual, Harry was to be sent over to Mrs. Figg's. After the incident with the zoo and the letter, it was a miracle that he was to be let out of the cupboard so early, even if it was just to go to smelly Mrs. Figg's house. Harry suspected that he was only being allowed to leave his cupboard because that summer was becoming quite hot, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon did not want to have to bring Harry to the hospital because he'd gotten heatstroke from his stuffy little cupboard.
Harry, who had been eating one meal a day until that point, the breakfast that he cooked, as well as anything else he could get his hands on, was pleased by this trip for another reason. Because Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon got enough comments on how skinny he was, they were always certain to feed him large meals before he was sent off to Mrs. Figg's.
By the time breakfast had been eaten and Harry had washed the dishes, the Dursleys were ready to leave on their trip to London.
"Don't think I've forgotten about your actions, boy. You're lucky that we're letting you out at all. Now, head over to Mrs. Figg's and you had better cause her no trouble. We'll be back late, but not so late that you'll be staying over there, no..." Uncle Vernon had turned from looking angry to gleeful.
Harry sighed silently. He knew that one of the main reasons that he stayed with Mrs. Figg when the Dursleys went out was because Mrs. Figg was not one of Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon's friends whose opinion mattered to them. Mrs. Figg was the odd, old woman on the street with too many cats. It was hard to imagine someone on the street whose opinion they cared less about.
Harry slowly walked over to Mrs. Figg. She had an old fence which might once have been white surrounding her yard. Cats started approaching him as he neared the house. The cats were mangier than the cats which stayed in the house with Mrs. Figg; they were outdoor cats who were half-wild. Still, one or two of them had taken a liking to him in his previous visits and every once and a while, he would find them in the garden at number four as he mowed the lawn, pulled weeds, mulched the soil or any of the number of garden related chores that Harry was responsible for.
The first of the outdoor cats was a tabby with the strangest of markings of all of Mrs. Figg's cats. She had square markings around her beady, intelligent eyes, but was one of Harry's more frequent visitors. Harry wasn't certain if she had a name. Mrs. Figg always smiled mysteriously when Harry brought her up, and Harry had feeling that she was amongst Mrs. Figg's most wild cats.
As Harry approached, he let slip a small sliver of fish from last night's meal. The tabby approached, her head raised high, eyes locked on Harry, until the moment when she was close enough, at which point she quickly nicked the piece from Harry's hand and then moved back.
"How has the hunting been? I see that you liked my treat. I wish you could hunt Dudley, but I don't blame you for staying away this summer. Dudley's gotten very quick with his Smeltings stick, and my aunt and uncle have really been on the lookout when I'm working in the garden."
She yowled and Harry continued telling her about his summer so far, sitting on the ground as she circled him, until she finally jumped onto an old tree stump, where she lay down and began surveying her domain. Every once in a while, usually when Harry had told her of some of his unfortunate happenings this summer, she would glance at him and when he told her of his few amusing adventures, she would flick her eyelids, which Harry had always considered her laugh.
Harry noticed Mrs. Figg out of the corner of his eye, but, thankfully, she didn't try to drag him into the house. The house, in addition to smelling like cabbage, cat hair and cat litter, also contained the indoor cats. Harry liked the indoor cats far less than the outdoor cats, as they were the ones which Mrs. Figg most fawned over and were also the most condescending. The tabby was proud, but Harry was certain that she could beat any challenger. Well, perhaps, bar one.
Her competition came bouncing in only a few moments after Harry had thought that thought. He was younger than the tabby and acted much more like a kitten. He came carrying a mouse, which he deposited at Harry's feet. He was quite large for his age and had black fur, spotted with brown flecks and yellow eyes, that were almost green. He had a slightly plumed tail which he enjoyed chasing.
Harry had some fish for him too. Unlike the tabby, he did have a name, Bear, despite his small size. In fact, Harry had named him after the tabby had deposited Bear, then only a very small kitten, at Harry's feet. Harry had asked Mrs. Figg how to care for him and had when he could. However, because he couldn't bring him into number four, Bear had become an outdoor cat. Despite this, when Harry gave Bear his piece of fish, he rubbed himself against Harry's hand.
"Well, I've already told our tabby here all about my adventures so far, Bear. You missed all the best bits."
Bear, like the tabby, always seemed more intelligent than the indoor cats and almost seemed to pout at this.
Harry laughed before adding, "Well, I might have been joking. There's one thing that I haven't told our distinguished companion about. I got a letter the other day from this place called Hogwarts. It seems like it's a school for wizards or something. I'm not sure if it's a joke, but I sent a letter to the Deputy Headmistress anyway. There was a strange old man at the post office who knew my name just like those people on the street but he seemed to know where it was because he said he'd send it off."
Harry's voice turned softer. "I hope that it was real, but even if I had been written back, Uncle Vernon found out about it. That's why I've been locked back up so I won't see you too much this summer it seems. So I don't know how I would receive it. It sounds crazy, but even Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were scared, and I never wrote down magic anywhere. It was like they were more scared of the school than they are of magic."
By this point, Bear was nudging the mouse at him. Harry laughed and was glad for it. "Trying to make me feel better? Well, you've proven your hunting talents."
The tabby, who had been keeping a raised ear during the entire conversation, settled down for what appeared to be a long nap while Bear and Harry played. Harry felt one small spear of sadness as he realised that if this school was real, it was unlikely that he'd see Bear again for a long while.
#
Some time later, dusk was falling and the tabby had awoken from her nap. She began walking towards the house where Mrs. Figg kept the food dishes and Harry followed. This was what he hated about coming to Mrs. Figg's. Still, at least he wasn't going to be staying the night. The food bowls for the outdoor cats were unnamed, unlike those indoors, and when Mrs. Figg put the food out, the scramble for it was quite unlike anything else Harry had ever seen. The tabby simply walked through and claimed a bowl and the other cats fought over the others. Bear quickly emerged amongst the first winners and ambled over to another choice bowl. Soon, all the cats had finished.
Mrs. Figg called out from inside. "You've been outside quite enough already, come inside and have some supper. And I have some new pictures to show you."
Harry groaned. Mrs. Figg's food was bad enough, but looking at her pictures was even worse.
"I'm coming, Mrs. Figg," Harry said as he entered the house. Immediately, the smells enveloped him and Harry would have liked nothing better than to turn tail. But, he was hungry enough that even Mrs. Figg's food sounded palatable.
To his surprise, there was no food on the kitchen table where they usually ate. The tabby walked up towards Mrs. Figg.
"Harry, I heard from a little bird that you got your letter a few days ago. Congratulations. There was never any doubt really, not with all your displays, but it's always an important moment in any witch or wizard's life."
Harry's mouth dropped open. "So, it's true? The letter was real?"
All of a sudden, the tabby changed into an old woman with square glasses and brown hair pulled into a high bun. She was wearing a tartan robe and a pointed tartan hat.
"It certainly was, Mr. Potter," said the woman.
Harry's mouth dropped open. "But you, the cat, the tabby... I, who are you?
"I am Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Please call me Professor McGonagall."
Harry's eyes, lit up with understanding. "You sent me my letter!"
Professor McGonagall smiled at his enthusiasm. "Indeed I did."
"But how did you change from a cat into a human?"
"Oh, you are quite mistaken, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "I was a human first before I was a cat. I am what is called an Animagus, a wizard who is able to turn into an animal, in my case a tabby cat."
Harry blushed and lowered his eyes. "Oh."
"It's nothing to be ashamed about, Mr. Potter. In fact your father was an Animagus."
Harry raised his eyes, and they shone. "My father...?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter, despite what those awful Muggles have told you, your father was a wizard from a long line of wizards. He was especially gifted at Transfiguration, the magic of transforming one object into another. And your mother was a witch and of far better temper than her sister Petunia. You have her eyes, and look remarkably like your father."
Harry had never heard any stories about his parents except that his father was a drunk. The Dursleys had always said that they were unemployed.
"You knew them then? My father and my mother?"
"Yes, I taught them both at Hogwarts."
The mention of Hogwarts reminded Harry of his letter. "So, you got my letter?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter, I did, although I enjoyed hearing about its journey from you."
Suddenly, Harry's heart dropped. "Professor McGonagall, Bear isn't a person is he?"
McGonagall smiled. "No, Mr. Potter, there is no need to worry. I brought him to you as I could only visit you sometimes. A child needs to smile sometimes in his life. He is a Kneazle, though, and not a cat. A Kneazle is quite like a cat, but they are larger, with large ears and Bear's plumed tail. He is quite intelligent, you were right about that, and he'll always be rather independent. But he'll be loyal to you for the rest of his life and he'll always be able to guide you home."
Harry smiled. The tabby and Bear had been his only friends. He didn't think he could have born to lose both of them. Bear, as though called by the professor, pressed against Harry's legs.
"So you knew, Mrs. Figg, all along?"
"Yes, I did, Harry. I was asked to watch over you, make sure that the Muggles weren't horribly mistreating you, although what they got away with... I'm very sorry, Harry, but I couldn't make your visits to my house too enjoyable for fear that the Dursleys wouldn't let you back."
Harry sighed. "Well you let me have Bear and the tabby, so it wasn't too bad, I suppose."
Mrs. Figg smiled. "Well, you won't have to eat my food today at least, Harry. Unfortunately, that wasn't an act. Professor McGonagall has kindly brought over some food for you. You need it after all your time in the cupboard this summer."
Harry remembered his questions. "So, how does Hogwarts work? How am I going to pay for it? And how am I going to get all those books or a wand?"
Professor McGonagall smiled. "There's no need to worry. Harry, your parents were quite well off. They left all of their belongings to you when you died."
"Yes, in a car crash, my aunt and uncle told me."
"No, Harry, not in a car crash. Honestly, I wonder if those Muggles have spoken an honest word to you in your entire life, at least one which was not filled with hate. Your parents died defending you from a Dark wizard named Voldemort. He began a war amongst wizards which only ended when he came to your house when you were only a child. He killed both of your parents and would have killed you but when he tried to do so, the curse rebounded and killed him. You are a hero to the Wizarding world, Harry, known as the Boy-Who-Lived."
Harry gasped. He was a hero? Harry felt like his world was shaking. Everything he'd ever thought he knew was changing, but most precious of all to him was that it had given him back his parents.
"As for your other questions, I will take you to Diagon Alley on your birthday, the 31st I believe. Diagon Alley is the Wizarding marketplace, and it is quite an adventure. And don't worry about the Dursleys. I have someone who can take care of them." With that, Professor McGonagall smiled and Harry couldn't help but smile too, wondering what was going to happen two days from now.
"Finish up your food," said Mrs. Figg. "I'll have to bring you back soon. Remember not to smile too much, or you'll ruin the surprise."
"I really must be off now, Mr. Potter. It was a pleasure speaking to you."
As Bear begged for another piece of fish from his plate, Harry couldn't help but give it to him, nor could he help smiling. He was looking forward to the next day more than he ever had before.
Harry slipped back into the house that evening just as the Dursleys arrived. The traffic back from London had been bad, and Uncle Vernon was particularly upset.
"Traffic on a Sunday. It's wrong, that's what it is. Not like it was like in my day, oh no... Too many people these days, too many..."
But he was tired too and no one checked on Harry in his cupboard. If they had, they would have found one smiling, tired boy, collapsed on the cot.