Tangled Fates

Chapter Number: 03
Chapter Name: For What It’s Worth

Harry Potter sat alone in his room, carefully examining his new wand. Mr. Ollivander’s words rang clearly in his ears, Think hard about your place in this world...make the right choice...lots of people look up to you...let them keep their faith...

Harry sighed, burying his face in his hands. Through all of his fifteen years, he’d never been in a situation he couldn’t handle; he was the go-to guy in the big game—he was cool under pressure—and now, Harry had the horrible feeling that he was about to let everyone down for the first time in his life. "How can I live up to all this?" he said aloud to no one in particular.

Feeling awfully foolish, he sank back onto his bed, burying his face in his hands, thinking. "Everyone thinks you’re something special, Potter. What are you going to do when they realize you’re not?"

Suddenly, Harry sat up, eyes determined. "WHY are you beating yourself up over this? Who CARES what other people think? Just do what you’ve always done; believe in yourself and it’ll all be okay."

Done with the personal pep talk, Harry polished the fingerprints off his wand and bounded out the door, determined to find Remus and start learning enough magic to prove himself.

He wandered around the first floor, finding himself in a variety of interesting rooms he’d never seen before; one of which was strangely filled with a large assortment of chamber pots. Chuckling to himself, he continued his journey, feeling a bit more light-hearted when he began to recognize some tapestries and statues. Finding himself in front of a particularly familiar gargoyle statue, he paused, desperately trying to think of the password.

"It’s a very interesting predicament, Minerva." Remus Lupin’s voice carried from around the corner where Harry was standing. Hurriedly, Harry threw himself behind a nearby tapestry as Minerva and Remus approached.

"I know, Remus. It’s obvious he’s more powerful than either of us—and you say he’s ambidextrous? I certainly never would have seen that coming!"

"It’s strange, as a baby, I remember him being right-handed." Remus mused as they came to a stop in front of the gargoyle, mere feet from where Harry was precariously pressed against a wall.

"Well, they say that the Dark Lord was left-handed." Minerva said darkly, "Oberon." The gargoyle swung open and Minerva and Remus entered, still conversing. "I imagine that his ambidexterity could be a result of the power-transfer; although, I really do wonder exactly how much of himself You-Know-Who put into Harry that night."

"I don’t even want to think about it—" Remus’s voice trailed away as they continued farther down the hallway that led to McGonagall’s office.

When he was certain they had gone, Harry removed himself from his hiding spot, staring blankly at the place where they had disappeared. He knew from Dumbledore’s letter that he had gotten some of Voldemort’s power that night, although the magnitude of the situation hadn’t really sunk in yet.

Feeling rather jittery, Harry opted to return to his room and grab his broom, rather than learn any magic today.

Firebolt in hand, Harry set out towards where Remus had said the Quidditch pitch was. Pulling out a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages that Remus had lent him, Harry sat down on the immense greenness of the pitch and began to read about the history and technique of this new sport.

As Harry read on, a bit of an idea began to form in his head: he could do this. Flying sounded easy. Quickly dismissing the rest of the long volume, Harry picked up his broom, swung his leg over the handle, and kicked sharply off of the ground. With a sharp whoop, Harry pulled the broom handle up, letting the wind whip through his hair as he soared around the pitch.

Feeling extremely brave, Harry leveled out his broom. Taking a deep breath, he pointed the broom handle straight at the ground, screeching in delight as the ground neared at an extraordinary speed. Throwing his weight, Harry swerved at the last minute, letting his toes brush the grass as he swooped overhead, feeling quite elated at pulling off the Wronski Feint that he had just read about in his book.

Smiling mirthfully, Harry flew high again, determined to attempt as many acrobatic feats as he possibly could before dark. In his happiness, he did not notice the two shell-shocked faces leaning out a window high atop the main turret.

"My, God, did you see that?" Remus gasped. "Great Scott, can he fly!"

"Oh, I really hope he’s in Gryffindor! Heaven knows they need a better seeker, especially since that Ron Weasley got named captain and somehow decided that he’d play seeker. Really, though, Weasley can’t fly like his brother. If he would just listen to me and be a chaser like I suggested, but no—"

"Okay, okay, Minerva! I know you’re upset about Gryffindor’s prospects, but remember—you’re not head of Gryffindor anymore! You have to remain impartial! Even though that boy is running the team into the ground, we can’t do anything about it!"

"Remain impartial, huh? Mark my words, Remus, if Harry Potter becomes a Gryffindor, I will personally make sure that he plays seeker. It’s about time Gryffindor got back to the glory days of James Potter and Charlie Weasley! It’s embarrassing to see them play so badly! Why, I couldn’t look Severus Snape in the face for weeks after that last match! They need help!"

"I know, I know. But maybe Harry doesn’t even want to play Quidditch, no one’s asked him."

Minerva smiled darkly. "If it comes down to Gryffindor beating Slytherin, he won’t have a choice."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Getting a bit catty, aren’t we?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Remus laughed at the headmistress’s stern expression, and settled back to watch James Potter’s son fly to his heart’s content.

* * * * *

Early the next morning, Harry felt himself being tugged out of bed. Groaning, he got up, shooting a look of utter contempt at his bed, which now seemed to be laughing at him. "Watch out." He said menacingly, "You won’t be laughing once I learn how to take that blasted charm off." With that, he spun on his heel and made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Good morning, Remus, Minerva!" Harry cried as he entered the hall. "How are you today?"

"Fine, thanks." Minerva answered, smiling into her eggs. The boy was acting more like James Potter day by day.

"Good morning, Harry." Remus said, drawing a chair for Harry to sit beside him. "Eat up. We’ll be starting your training today."

Harry nodded, "Okay."

After breakfast, Harry followed Remus to a wing he’d never been in before. "This is my classroom, Harry." Remus said. "We’ll spend most of our time in here from now on."

"Okay." Harry replied meekly.

Remus walked over to his desk, pulling a pile of books off of it and handing them to Harry. "These are the first year course books. We’ll be starting with them now."

Harry sat down at a nearby desk, shuffling though the books. "All these are just from the first year?" He asked.

"Yes. I know they look daunting, but they’re really not that hard. You’ll be fine." Remus smiled. "Now, pull out your Standard Book of Spells, and we’ll begin there."

* * * * *

Six hours later, Harry wearily leafed through the pages of A History of Magic, searching desperately for the cause of the goblin rebellions of 1617. He and Remus had covered a compulsory basis of rudimentary spells, and Harry was proud to say that all of them came rather easily to him. Remus was impressed with Harry’s ability to learn and perform all the spells he had asked of him.

They had studied spells, Herbology, Transfiguration, and now, were tackling history. After another half an hour or so, Remus called it a day—to tell the truth, he was as exhausted as Harry appeared to be. They agreed to meet again tomorrow to begin Harry’s second year tuition. Harry wasn’t really worried, although, Remus had mentioned something about spending entire weekends in the potions dungeon, which, obviously, didn’t sound too appealing.

Harry dragged himself back to his room, books and wand in tow. He plopped his pile of books down on his bedside table and flopped backwards onto his bed. Pulling out his wand, he waved it about lazily, watching a trail of multicolored sparks flow about through tired eyes.

Slowly, he drifted off to sleep, content for the time being.

* * * * *

"Riddle!" a harsh voice cried. "Get yer good fer nothin’ arse down here right this second! Ye’ve got vis’tors!"

Turning of a doorknob...walking slowly down a light of stairs...an unfamiliar face seated on the ramshackle sofa... "You’re a wizard, Tom."

Scenes flickered oddly...Floo Powder...an old-fashioned Diagon Alley...a large scarlet train...Hogwarts.

"Tom Riddle!" Feet were moving again...a hat clouded the vision...a tiny voice..."My, my! An interesting customer we’ve got here, now, haven’t we? Tremendous power, my goodness, yes. We certainly want to prove ourselves, don’t we? Well, with your blood, where else could you go? Must be SLYTHERIN!"

Classes flew by...learning spells...standing out in the greenhouses...transfiguring a desk into a pig...everything getting darker...

New faces, now...masks...a horrible face...the dark mark being etched on skin after skin...high, cruel, cold, laughter...a house...midnight...a man with untidy black hair screaming "Lily! Take Harry and run! Go! It’s him!"

A flash of horrible green light...a deadened thud...more stairs...a door, blasted to smithereens...a beautiful woman, crying softly... "Have mercy! Please!"...A baby’s cries...green light...green eyes...pain beyond pain...

Harry jolted. Shivering madly, he tried desperately not to scream, scenes still flickering madly in front of him. He pulled himself to his feet, wobbling unsteadily. Lurching to his bathroom, he splashed his face with cool, fresh water, all the while trying urgently to ignore the shooting pains that were streaking across his forehead.

He gazed into the mirror. An unfamiliar face stared back: red eyes, sunk into a flat, white face-- a horrible, snake-like face. Harry screamed, shooting out a fist and shattering the mirror with a sharp blow. Harry fell to the floor, still shaking madly. He fitfully rubbed his forehead, fingers massaging the inflamed scar tissue that was causing so much pain. He slowly withdrew his hand, staring at it blankly. Blood dripped off his fingers, falling like teardrops to the floor.

Feeling completely and utterly helpless for the first time in his life, Harry Potter curled up on the floor and cried.

* * * * *

Daylight soon approached, although Harry, still in the fetal position on the floor, did not stir. His scar had stopped weeping blood, hardening into an ugly, lightning bolt shaped scar. He slept, his fitful rest still plagued by horrific visions of unspeakable torture and bloodshed.

Remus pushed open the painting that guarded Harry’s bedroom. Harry hadn’t shown up for breakfast and, to put it frankly, Remus was quite worried. He hadn’t known Harry for that long, but Harry hadn’t struck him as the type to shirk off of important duties.

"Harry! Come on, mate, we’ve got to get cracking on the second year curriculum." He pulled the bed-sheets off the bed. Harry was not there.

Remus was almost frantic. "Harry?" He wandered into the adjoining bathroom. "Where are you? Are you—oh, my God!"

There, lying in a pool of blood and broken glass, was Harry, looking dreadfully pale and unconscious.

Remus dropped to his knees beside the boy. "Harry!" he cried, shaking Harry’s shoulder to no avail. "Harry! Get up!" No response.

He ran to the fireplace, hurriedly lighting a fire in the hearth and throwing a glittering handful into the flames. "Minerva McGonagall!" he bellowed.

Quick as lightning, Minerva’s head appeared in the flames. "Yes, Remus?" she asked crossly. "Anything that couldn’t possibly wait until later?"

"Minerva, come quickly! It’s Harry!"

The headmistress paled. "I’m coming through the fire." Remus stepped aside as the flames grew tall and green and Minerva stepped out.

"Where is he?"

"In the bathroom! Follow me!"

Minerva gasped loudly as she caught sight of the boy. "My God." She whispered. "What in the name of holy hell happened here?"

"I—I don’t know what to do, Minnie! I just came in and found him like that. I tried to wake him, but he didn’t move!"

"Let me try." She pulled out her wand. "Enervate!"

Harry groaned loudly.

"Remus! With me on three! One...two...THREE!"

The two spells combined did what the force of one could not. Harry sat up slowly and groggily. "Wha—what happened?

Remus plopped down next to him. "We were kind of hoping you could tell us that, Harry."

Harry pulled himself to his feet, putting a hand to his forehead, wincing as he felt the newly formed scab.

"It was a dream, I think. I can’t really remember. There was a lot of people; a lot of time passed and then I think I saw my parents and a lot of green light and then I woke up and came in here to splash my face and I looked in the mirror and—" he broke off, burying his head in his hands.

"And what?" Minerva asked soothingly.

Harry looked up, eyes pained. "There was a face—it wasn’t mine—it was horrible; white-faced and horrible red eyes and I think I punched the mirror. My scar hurt. It was bleeding, I think. What does this mean? This has never happened before."

Remus and Minerva shared a glance. Finally, Remus spoke. "I think your dream wasn’t just a dream; I think it was a vague representation of Lord Voldemort’s memories—from finding out he was a wizard to when he met his downfall in you. I’m sorry you had to see your parents like that, Harry. We didn’t know what these dreams would be like."

"Is this going to happen again?"

"We don’t know. If it does, you must contact either one of us immediately, okay? Now, I don’t think lessons would be at all appropriate today, so just do what you like. We have an extensive library that’s rather fascinating and you could always go flying again. Whatever you like, okay?"

Harry smiled weakly. "Right now, all I want to do is go back to sleep. I’ll probably check out the library soon, though." He paused. "And how did you know I’d been flying before?"

"We happened to look out the window in Minerva’s office just in time to see you perform a rather admirable Wronski Feint. You fly beautifully, Harry. Your father would be quite proud of you. I know any team in school would kill to have you as seeker, you ever think about playing Quidditch?"

Harry nodded. "I think it would be fun. Really, though? I’d be good enough?"

"Absolutely, Harry. I know Gryffindor needs a better seeker." Minerva chimed in.

"Well, I’ll think about it. But now, I’m really tired, so if you don’t mind—"

Minerva and Remus smiled. "Sure. See you later, Harry."

Harry climbed back into his bed, pulling the rumpled sheets up around him. Shivering slightly, he let his head sink into his pillow, although his eyes didn’t close for quite some time.

* * * * *

.

Later that day, after a long sleep, Harry wandered into the library. Staring around at all the immense shelves, positively bursting with thick tomes, he smiled; the library back home was a favorite haunt of Harry’s, and this new library proved to be a welcome substitute.

Harry meandered around the shelves for a bit, searching aimlessly for a fiction section, although he suspected that there wasn’t one. He would have to have Vernon send him some of his favorites from home, for reading was one of Harry’s secret joys; a way to escape from everything. And really, when it comes down to it, you simply cannot do without a copy of Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye.

Grabbing a few books on the subject of recent magical history, Harry sat down at one of the many tables situated in the library and began to read. He felt horribly out of the loop when it came to magical history, so he figured that he simply had better teach himself.

Flipping through a well-thumbed copy of The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Harry was shocked to see his own name emblazoned on the top of a new page. Intrigued, Harry read further:

In one of the most amazing magical occurrences in the past century, one Harry Potter freed our world from You-Know-Who’s terrible grasp. On October 31, 1981 (Halloween), the Dark Lord showed up at the Potter’s home in Godric’s Hollow (see Gryffindor, Godric) obviously bent on killing the young family. To make matters worse, it has recently come to light that the Potters were aware of You-Know-Who’s intent to kill them and put themselves under the Fidelius Charm (see Fidelius, Arturo), using Sirius Black (see noted criminals and Pettigrew, Peter) as their secret keeper. This obviously failed. It is known that James Potter, Harry’s father, attempted to hold off You-Know-Who, trying to give his wife, Lily, and their son time to escape. James Potter fell valiantly, a hero to the last.

Lily Potter (nee Evans) was found, her arms still clutching her son, who was very much alive. James and Lily Potter were obviously killed by the notorious killing curse, Avada Kedavra. However, Harry, who also showed signs of being hit by Avada Kedavra, namely, a deep scar in the shape of lightning bolt situated on his forehead, was still alive. Furthermore, the Dark Lord vanished that night, not to be seen again for ten long years, until his servant, Samuel Quirrell, former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, stole the Sorcerer’s Stone (see Flamel, Nicolas and Dumbledore, Albus) from the school and used it to return You-Know-Who to full power. He was later defeated for good by Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, who gave his life in the attempt.

No one knows how young Harry survived the infamous curse; although something about the boy must have seriously stumped the Dark Lord that night. We are forever in debt to Mr. Potter for releasing us from His reign, even if just for a short time. At time of publication, Mr. Potter is living in New Zealand with his only living relatives, Vernon and Petunia (nee Evans) Dursley, where Mr. Dursley owns a successful sugarcane plantation. Mr. Potter is attending Muggle school, and is in the sixth grade level.

Harry sat, staring at the page. That was what he had seen last night—Voldemort coming to his home, killing his father first, then his mother, then trying to murder him. Harry was beginning to get an idea about why he was so revered amongst the magical people and the strange reactions he got when they noticed his scar. One thing plagued him, however. What was this Fidelius Charm and who was Sirius Black? Remus seemed to want to ignore that subject; that much was clear.

Closing the book, Harry quickly left the library, heading to Minerva’s office to get some answers.

* * * * *

Harry stood directly outside of McGonagall’s office, debating whether he should just go in or knock. Making up his mind, he raised a hand and rapped smartly on the door. "Come in!" Minerva’s voice called from behind the door.

Harry pushed the heavy entrance open, standing in the doorway for a moment. "Um, Minerva, can I ask you something?"

She looked up from her paperwork, "Sure, Harry. What is it?"

Harry sat down across from her desk, feeling nervous as Minerva fixed him with her trademark gaze, hands folded in front of her, eyes straight ahead. "Well, you see, I was reading this book in the library and there was a section about me and it said something about Sirius Black and the Fidelius Charm and someone named Peter Pettigrew, and when Sirius’s name came up before, Remus never seemed to keen to talk about it, and I was wondering if you knew what it was all about?"

Minerva closed her eyes, biting her lip. "It’s a very hard story to hear, Harry. Are you sure you want to know?’

Harry was adamant. "Yes, I’m sure. I want to know everything about what happened that night. They were my parents and this is my life and I feel like everyone knows more about me than I do!"

"Very well." She got up from her desk, crossing over to a large bookshelf. Selecting a thick, brown book from the shelf, she returned to her seat. Flipping through the pages, she paused for a moment on one, before sliding it across the desk towards Harry. "This is a picture of your mother and father on their wedding day. The man standing between your father and Professor Lupin is Sirius Black. He was your father’s best friend and best man at the wedding. He is also your godfather."

Harry stared in awe at the photo. He only had one picture of his family, one enclosed in an old Christmas card that had "Lily, James, and Harry, Christmas 1980" scrawled on the back in a feminine hand. He had never seen one of just his parents, and he didn’t believe that anything could look more wonderful than his parents, laughing and smiling together. He stared at the face of Sirius Black, his godfather. "What happened then? Why didn’t he ever come to see me or anything if he was my dad’s best friend?"

Minerva cleared her throat softly before speaking again. "Your mother and father knew that You-Know-Who was after them. You see, there was someone close to your parents spying for You-Know-Who. We knew that, although we weren’t sure who it was. They were very popular, although they kept a tiny group closer than others; your mother and father, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew."

"Anyway, after consulting with Professor Dumbledore, they all decided that their best bet would be the Fidelius Charm, which seals a secret deep inside the secret-keeper’s soul. The way it works is that while you were under the charm, You-Know-Who could be staring through your living room window and still wouldn’t be able to find you, as long as the secret-keeper never told, that is. You need someone trustworthy, and for James and Lily, there was really no question. James and Sirius were closer than brothers. He would die rather than betray them."

"But if Sirius and my dad were so close, how did Voldemort find us?"

Minerva flinched. "That’s just it. Barely a week after the charm was cast, Sirius Black, who all along was a supporter of You-Know-Who, told Him where you were hiding and the rest is history. When You-Know-Who lost his powers that night, Black went mad. There was a massive search for Black, and it was Peter Pettigrew that found him. Poor Peter, he always looked up to your father and Sirius. He confronted Black, screaming about how he betrayed Lily and James. Black pulled his wand and blew Pettigrew to smithereens. Peter never stood a chance. Black killed so many people that day—a dozen Muggles died with Pettigrew. They found Sirius standing over what was left of Peter, just laughing. He’s in Azkaban now."

Harry sat, stunned. "You mean, if my parents hadn’t trusted Black then they could still be alive today? How could he do that to us?’ Anger was bubbling up inside him; more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before.

"There’s no way to tell, Harry. The past is past and it’s no good agonizing over whether or not something would have happened if they knew what we know now."

Harry was seething. His head was pounding and a white-hot glow was burning behind his eyes. "I just can’t believe it." He said through clenched teeth, drumming his fingers restlessly on Minerva’s desk.

Minerva looked at alarmed at Harry’s anger. "Calm down, Mr. Potter! Please!"

Harry stood up, green eyes blazing. "I will NOT calm down! I just found out that my parents were betrayed by their so-called best friend, someone who also ruined my life! I’ve been wondering what really happened to them for years now! All Uncle Vernon would tell me was that they had died under ‘mysterious circumstances’! He didn’t know all of it, did he? Can you imagine what that’s like? The not knowing why you’re an orphan?"

"No, I can’t. I’m sorry I told you. It might be better if you never knew." She pulled out her wand. Harry watched the wand through livid eyes. "Oblivate!" McGonagall cried.

Harry felt a burst of energy hit him. He shook his head, clearing his mind. "What was that for, Professor?" he yelled. "If all you’re going to do is hit me with useless spells, then please tell me where I can find this Sirius Black. I’d like to have some words with him!"

Minerva stared at her wand in shock. "How--?"

"How what, Professor?" Harry asked condescendingly. "I’m really not in the mood for all this right now. Please tell me where I can find the murdering traitor!"

"Do you remember what I just told you, Harry?"

Harry’s eyes widened. "Of COURSE I remember what you just said! Do you think I’d forget something like that?"

"Actually, yes, because I just cast a powerful memory charm on you."

"What?"

"You’re not supposed to remember what we just talked about! How could you do that? No one can shake off the Oblivious Charm! It always causes some distinct memory loss, it’s never failed!"

"Well, it certainly appears that it hasn’t this time. Let’s just add it to the list then, shall we? Thanks to Sirius Black, I know that Avada Kedavra has no effect, so, you know, there’s two. Any other dangerous charms you’d like to test out on me, Headmistress?"

Harry turned on his heel and marched out the door, leaving Minerva McGonagall standing, face pale, absolutely stunned.

* * * * *

Harry tore out of the Headmistress’s chambers, heading towards his bedroom. As luck should have it, he ran directly into Remus.

"Whoa! Harry, where are you going so fast?" He asked lightly.

"What’s it to you?" Harry retorted.

"Hey! What’s with the attitude? You’re not acting like yourself." Remus by now had noticed the murderous look in Harry’s eyes. "Are you all right?"

"No, actually, I’m not. I just found out exactly why my parents died, something you obviously were never going to tell me and that our headmistress likes to cast potentially devastating memory charms on unsuspecting students for her own sick pleasure!"

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

"Sirius Black, that’s what! And some weird ‘Oblivate’ curse! What the hell is the matter with all you people! Maybe I should just go back home to Sofeba! At least there they don’t try to kill you or whatever she was trying to do!"

"Minerva told you about Sirius?"

"Yeah, because, like an idiot, I asked her to. Read something about the Fidelius Charm in the library. Why didn’t you tell me, Remus?"

"It’s not something I like to talk about, Harry. Two of my best friends are dead and the other is responsible for that! And wait a minute—if Minerva tried to memory charm you, how can you remember all of this?’

"It didn’t work! And you think you’re upset! They were my parents! I can’t remember anything about them! My uncle is great, but all I’ve wanted for fifteen years is to have my real family back!"

"I know, Harry. I wish to God that I could have known what Sirius really was! I wish it every day! But I can’t change it and neither can you!"

"Yeah, whatever. I can’t be here right now. I’ll see you later."

Harry ran down the hall, for the second time that day, leaving Remus staring sadly after him.

* * * * *

Harry flew up the steps to his room, shouting the password at the unsuspecting painting. It swung open and he vaulted inside, grabbing his broom, throwing the window open, and jumping out.

The early-evening wind blew madly through Harry’s tousled hair as he flew madly over the grounds. All his anger dissipated as he flew. He let himself go, just marveling in the absolute delight of flying. It was very therapeutic to be outside in the splendor of an early-August sunset, feeling as completely free as a bird.

He swooped over a little stone cabin that he hadn’t noticed before. Landing softly, he walked around the house, taking in all of its little eccentricities.

"Hey there! Who are ye and what are yer doin’ creepin’ about me house?"

Harry jumped and swung around. There stood an incredibly huge man. Trying hard not to gape, he squeaked out, "Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t realize anyone lived here! I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll be leaving now."

The giant took a step towards him. "Ye look familiar? What’s yer name?" he questioned.

"I—um—I’m Harry Potter, sir."

To Harry’s utmost astonishment, the giant ran at him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. "Harry Potter! It is you! I haven’t seen ye since you were a baby!" he sobbed.

Harry struggled out of the behemoth’s grasp. "Um—"

"Me name’s Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds here at Hogwarts. I also teach Care of Magical Creatures."

"Oh, hello, Professor Hagrid. It’s good to meet you."

Hagrid burst into fresh tears. "Yer ever so polite! Just like yer parents! Ye can call meh Hagrid, Harry."

"Oh. Okay, um, Hagrid."

"Ye look so much like yer father, Harry. The spitting image! And yer eyes! They’re Lily’s al’right!"

Harry smiled. "Did you know my parents well, Hagrid?"

"Sure did! They used to come down to visit me all the time when they was at school! In fact, ye know, I pulled yer out of your house meself that night."

"You were there?"

"Well, not until it was too late, ye know. Professor Dumbledore, God rest his soul, sent me over there ter fetch yeh meself. He says to bring yeh to yer aunt and uncle’s house and so I did."

"Oh. Right."

"What’re we doin’ still standin’ out here then! Come on in and have a cuppa with meh!"

Harry appraised the giant’s large, friendly face and smiled. "Sure, Hagrid." He shouldered his broom and followed him into the cozy little home.

* * * * *