Harry Potter and the Magical Muggle

“You want me to RUN at THAT?” Aunt Petunia shrieked and looked at him as if she considered her nephew mad.

“It’s tradition,” the green eyed boy patiently tried to explain. “Every first year runs at the wall between platforms nine and ten. I did. My father did. Your sister did. If you don’t hurry up, we are going to miss the train.” Harry began tapping his foot and looked rather annoyed at his aunt, who was red faced and angry by this point.

“I refuse. I will be KILLED! This is RIDICULOUS!” she spat.

“You are making a scene. People are staring at us,” Harry whispered anxiously.

“Oh, and I suppose a middle age woman running at a brick wall in the middle of daylight with a cart full of magical items at top speed would NOT make a SCENE?!” Aunt Petunia replied sarcastically.

Harry was getting rather tired of this. They had been fighting for approximately (he glanced at his new watch) eight minutes and she still refused to budge. They had exactly ten minutes before the train left and he would be damned if he was going to miss it because his aunt was too afraid to trust him.

“Fine! Stay. I don’t care! I, however, refuse to sit here and argue with you when you have obviously made up your mind. See you at Hogwarts… in the next week or so. I am sure someone will come and pick you up eventually.” And with that, Harry shrugged his shoulders, walked over to the wall, and leaned against it, casually disappearing right before his aunt’s eyes. As Harry started walking towards the scarlet train, he heard something behind him. Patting and out of breath, his aunt stood glaring.

“It’s tradition,” she said coldly and swept by him and onto the train.

“You took the Knight Bus home last night?” Hermione questioned with a deep frown on her face.

“Well, Aunt Petunia and I had that row…and she told me it was either come home with her and miss seeing you guys or have ice cream and be stranded. I took abandoned, but loved.” Harry smiled, which lit up his face and gave him a boyish charm. Ron laughed, while Hermione was a bit put out.

“You could have been hurt or captured or worse! That was extremely dangerous taking the Knight Bus alone now that You-Know-Who has risen again. What if Death Eaters had gotten you?” Hermione asked concerned.

“Geesh, Hermione! I think Harry is old enough to decide what he can and cannot do. The Knight Bus is perfectly safe. He wouldn’t have taken it otherwise, right Harry?” Ron said jumping in trying to diffuse Hermione’s annoyance, but only making it worse.

“Honestly! That’s not the point!” Hermione snapped. “Harry should be extra careful. He shouldn’t be taking unnecessary risks at a time like this. He could have waited a day to see us. If he had explained the entire situation, we wouldn’t have been angry.”

“We’re his best friends! He had to spend the entire holidays without us! And here you are telling him to wait another day, when he was bursting with information to share with us. I knew you were a stickler for rules, but that is just cruel!” Ron answered angrily.

They continued on this vain for a good five minutes when Harry began to wonder if they had forgotten he was still in the compartment. He decided he had to act and act quickly if he was ever going to get peace anytime soon.

“Mum (he glanced at Hermione) and Dad (he shifted his attention to Ron). I appreciate the concern, but really I am fine. (Hermione began to open her mouth angrily, but Harry put his hand up.) But in the future, I will be more concerned for my safety and try not to take any unnecessary risks. (Ron began to frown as he thought Harry was siding with Hermione.) However, trouble has a way of finding me no matter how safe I am, but that doesn’t mean that I should go looking for it. Okay?” Harry said. “Am I off the hook with both parents?”

Ron and Hermione began to laugh and nodded their heads in agreement.

“Good! So who is up for a game of Exploding Snap?” Harry questioned. Damn. This is going to be a long year. And three little words could solve all their problems, Harry thought, and mine.

The hours began rushing by and soon the compartment that contained the Gryffindor Trio was silent as all three teenagers were fast asleep, dreaming and looking forward to the feast in the Great Hall. However, the door slid back and three Slytherins entered the compartment unnoticed by the napping triumvirate.

“This is too perfect,” Draco chuckled glancing at the slumbering Gryffindors. “Ready for some pay back?” Draco whispered remembering the hex marks that had taken weeks to heal after their last run in with the Gryffindors at the end of term last year. “I think blackmail would do the trick. Where’s Potter’s trunk?” Draco asked while he searched the compartment. “Ah! Found it. No thanks to you two.” Draco glared while Crabbe and Goyle scratched their heads and stared blankly at him. As Draco was rummaging through Harry’s trunk, he came across some interesting information. First it seemed that the Golden Boy of Hogwarts was corresponding with one, escaped convicted of Azkaban, Sirius Black. Hmmm. That is interesting and unusual. He pocketed the letter. Finally he hit gold, but threw it out of the way. I’m rich. I don’t need to steal anyone’s galleons especially not poor orphaned Potter’s. And then Draco’s hand came into contact with the Invisibility Cloak. As he smiled his wicked smile, Draco chuckled and said “Gotcha.” He took the cloak, glancing back at the still sleeping Gryffindors and swept from the room with his two bodyguards in tow. Potter’s all mine, Draco chuckled as he opened the door to the compartment and walked into the corridor.

The train began to slow down as it approached Hogwarts and Ron was the first to open his eyes.

“Oh, shit! We’re here and we haven’t changed into our robes! Harry, Hermione! Hey! Get up. Have we been sleeping all this time? That’s crazy!” After a couple minutes of prodding both of his friends, they finally woke and frantically began putting on their robes. Soon, house elves began popping into the compartments on the train and grabbing trucks. They heard Hagrid bellow, “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” from outside the Hogwarts Express.

“We are going to be late! We are going to miss the Sorting! We kind of prefects are we! Oh, I can’t believe this. Our first duties as prefects and we are going to be sacked! Sacked on the first day. That is going to be a record! What will everyone say?!” Hermione started to ramble as she began wringing her hands. Ron and Harry took a hold of her arms and yanked her out of the train.

“Come on, Hermione! Run!” shouted Harry as they took off after the horseless carriages. Panting they made it to the last couple of carriages and jumped in.

“See, nothing to it!” Harry smiled as they all collapsed and tried to catch their breath.

“We are never, and I mean NEVER (gasp) going to fall asleep aboard the Hogwarts Express again! (gasp) What if something more (gasp) serious had happened? That was so irresponsible! Anyone could have walked (gasp) in the compartment and done anything! Next time, two sleep and (gasp) one stands guard.” Hermione wheezed trying to catch her breath.

“I am really trying to take you seriously. Honestly, ‘Mione. But you look like a fish out of water,” Harry joked as Ron and him began cracking up with laughter. Hermione tried to be angry, but she could never stay angry with Harry for very long. Instead, she gave him a weak smile and hit him on the shoulder.

“So Harry gets away with murder, while I can’t even look at you funny without getting your knickers in a twist? That hardly seems fair,” Ron whined.

“I’ll tell you what Ron. Next time you defeat the Dark Lord, give me an owl and I will let you think of insulting me, free of charge,” Hermione replied with a smile and a wink.

“Oh, she got you there, Ron!” Harry laughed and punched Ron in the shoulder. Ron looked between Harry and Hermione and knew that he had been beaten.

“All right! I concede. You win, oh perfect prefects!” Ron moaned in an exaggerated manner while putting up his hands in mock surrender. “Just please don’t take away my supper.” And his stomach grumbled in agreement.

“You’re too much,” Harry laughed shaking his head.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly walked into the Great Hall and took their seats with the other Gryffindors. Most of them were staring at the trio quizzically.

“What happened?” Ginny whispered to Hermione as she sat down next to her.

“We overslept a bit. Thanks for waking us up!” she replied huffily.

“Sorry,” Ginny whispered back guilty.

But soon their conversation was interrupted as Professor McGonagall opened the doors of the Great Hall with a loud bang and led the first years into the hall toward the Sorting Hat. At the very end of the line was Aunt Petunia.

“Shoot me now,” moaned Harry as he covered his hands with his eyes.

Aunt Petunia towered over the first years as an elephant over a mouse. She looked ridiculous and distinctly uncomfortable. Soon the whole Hall was looking at Madame Evans whispering and pointing. Asking themselves how could this woman be a first year? “Aging potion gone wrong?” questioned Blaise Zabini of Slytherin. “Overprotective parent?” asked Lisa Turpin of Ravenclaw. “No, she is a pureblood eleven-year-old giant!” exclaimed Hannah Abbot of Hufflepuff. However, none of the students’ guesses were even close to the reason why Aunt Petunia was really here at Hogwarts. But, she was spared any more speculations as the Sorting Hat broke into song:

“I have seen over a thousand suns,

But my brains are as good as gold.

I will look into your heart,

And discover the qualities of which I am told.

Those who are clever with wit,

Belong to the house of bronze and blue,

Within the fair walls of Ravenclaw,

You will find friends whom are true.

Those who contain ambition,

And are lured to the essence of power,

Take the emerald snake as their symbol,

And reside in the house of Slytherin, hour by hour.

Still those who believe loyalty

To be their greatest skill,

Do remain in the house of Hufflepuff,

Where you may get your fill.

Or at last if you must be brave and noble,

There is only one house that will do,

For the scarlet and gold lions of Gryffindor,

Will surely welcome you.

So try me on! Don’t delay!

Slip me upon your head.

Remember that the faster the sorting,

The sooner you’ll be fed.”

“Here! Here!” yelled the Weasley twins and banged their forks on the table while everyone laughed and clapped for the Sorting Hat’s song.

“When I call your name, please put on the hat and sit on the stool. Then precede to the table that the hat announces,” Professor McGonagall patiently told the first years, whom all looked a bit green around the edges including Aunt Petunia.

“Addison, Herbert!”

“Ouch. That’s a Hufflepuff, if I ever saw one!” laughed Ron viciously.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed warningly. The older students honestly found the sorting rather boring unless they knew personally whom the first years were, being sorted. Therefore to liven up the yearly event, they would place bets based solely on the appearances of the students, trying to deduce which house each first year would be sorted into before the hat announced it to the hall. The student with the most correct guesses at the end of the sorting would win the pot of money. Everyone who played found it to be an amusing and definitely time wasting activity that diverted their attention from their grumbling stomachs and heavy eyelids.

“Harry?” Ron inquired.

“Put me down for Hufflepuff,” he grinned wickedly.

“Harry, you really shouldn’t be playing this game. It’s demeaning! And you’re a prefect now. You should be a role model for your fellow students, not a guide book on what not to do!” Hermione whispered huffily.

“It’s all in good fun, Hermione. Come on. Play with us! Next year, the first years will be seated with us doing the same thing to the next group of first years. It’s tradition!” Harry replied.

“She’s just angry that when she was a first year that most of the hall thought she looked like a Slytherin!” Ron laughed, poking fun of Hermione, who did not look in the mood at the moment.

“You don’t understand. It’s not fair that most people thought you two would be Gryffindors,” she hissed back. However, the argument was soon interrupted as the Sorting Hat yelled “HUFFLEPUFF!” and Harry and Ron slapped each other on the back and replied “One for one!” while Hermione just glared.

Soon ten students had been sorted with Ron at nine wins, one loss, and Harry at seven wins, three losses, when the name to send Harry moaning and covering his eyes again was called.

“Evans, Petunia!”

“Knowing my luck, she’ll be a Gryffindor,” Harry groaned.

“So is that Gryffindor then?” Dean Thomas, a fellow fifth year, asked with a quill ready to record Harry’s guess. Harry nodded his head unable to look as Aunt Petunia walked quickly to the stool and picked up the hat. Instead of completely covering her head like it did to most first years, it perched lightly on top of her head like a normal hat.

It was quite a comical sight. It seemed that Aunt Petunia was trying to look at the hat that was talking to her in her mind by rolling her eyes up to the top of her head and fixing it with a glare. However instead of looking menacing, she looked a bit deranged.

Ron laughed beside Harry. “Make mine Slytherin, Dean!”

“Sure thing, Ron,” Dean replied and recorded Ron’s guess on his scroll.

“Put me down for Ravenclaw,” Hermione softly said. Ron and Harry were completely shocked.

“But…but…you’re…you’re a…PREFECT!” Ron sputtered emphasizing the last word as if it was sacred.

Hermione smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Harry’s playing, too,” she pointed out. “Besides, it’s tradition!” she also countered, which caused the Gryffindor Trio to burst into fits of laughter while the Sorting Hat yelled out “RAVENCLAW!” Although instead of heading to the Ravenclaw table for a seat, Madame Evans quickly walked over to the High Table and sat between Professor Snape and Professor Sprout.

“What is going on?” Seamus, also a fifth year Gryffindor, whispered to Dean.

“I heard she is an assistant professor,” Dean whispered back.

“A professor of what?” asked Orla Quirke of Ravenclaw.

“Muggle studies!” replied Kevin Whitby of Hufflepuff.

“She is a Muggle? That doesn’t seem right,” complained Malcolm Baddock of Slytherin.

“No, not a Muggle. A magical Muggle. She’s just found out that she is a witch!” exclaimed Susan Bones of Hufflepuff.

“Is it true that she is Harry Potter’s aunt?” questioned Dennis Creevey of Gryffindor.

All these whispered conversations and more were circulating the Great Hall as Madame Evans sat calmly in her seat glaring at anyone that bothered to gossip about her in front of her face. Soon everyone was silenced at “Fisher, Flora” was called to be sorted.

“Slytherin!” remarked Harry, Hermione, and Ron together and grinned wickedly.

“She really is unpleasant looking,” Ron remarked.

“You can say that again,” Harry replied.

After the sorting was over and the feast was eaten, Professor Dumbledore, who was dressed in midnight blue dress robes with silver moons and stars woven into the fabric, rose from his chair and began to speak.

“Now that the house elves have done a marvelous job in the kitchens as usual and we are sufficiently stuffed, I need to make the traditionally reminders to start off the year with the hope that maybe this time (he glanced at the Gryffindor table) that certain students will take heed and follow the rules. Therefore, the Forbidden Forest is still (he chuckled) forbidden and visits to Hogsmeade are only allowed for students who are in their third year and above.”

“I am also happy to announce that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will be reinstated this year with tryouts being the second week of term. Please contact Madame Hooch if you are interested in playing.” (“I think I am going to trying out,” Ron whispered to Harry who responded with “awesome!”)

“We have two new faces joining the Hogwarts faculty for this year. Let me introduce you to Petunia Evans, who will be the assistant professor of Muggle Studies. Madame Evans has lived as a Muggle for good number of years (Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled) and she has just discovered her magical ability. I know that you will make her feel welcome as she pursues her magical studies here at Hogwarts and helps you with yours.” There was a polite clapping as Aunt Petunia rose from her seat and sat down as the applause died down.

“Let me also introduce your new Defense Against the Darks professor, Arabella Figg. Professor Figg currently is an Auror who had agreed to take a year leave from the Ministry to come teach to you the proper ways to defend oneself against the Dark Arts.”

“With Voldemort’s return, I cannot stress how important is for each one of you to take care of each other and to take care of yourself. A wise man said we are only as strong as our weakest link. That is something that I firmly believe. Therefore, I have changed the curriculum at Hogwarts to reflect the current times. In order to defeat the enemy, you must first understand the enemy and then find his or her weakness. That is why it is a requirement for all students fourth years and above to take Dueling: Defense and Offense, History of the Dark Arts, and Muggle Studies. It is not the responsibility of any one person to defeat Voldemort, (his eyes flicked over to Harry) but instead it is all of our responsibilities in order for our children and our children’s children to grow up in a time where their childhood will not be cut short due to violence, suffering, and hatred. Remember that there will come a time in your life when you have to choose between what is easy and what is right. Remember that your actions have consequences for not only yourself, but also for those around you. Do you want to look back upon your conduct and cringe because you allowed your petty behavior to break the bonds of trust, loyalty, and friendship and have permitted hatred and prejudice to encroach upon your heart? Remember that the faculty, staff, and students of Hogwarts are here not only to support you in your learning, but also to guide you through the dark times that unfortunately may befall us. Remember you will always be safe at Hogwarts and always welcome within these walls even after you graduate.”

There was a stunned silence within the Hall, as Professor Dumbledore paused to catch his breath and shift topics.

“I am sure everyone is tired from the journey on the Hogwarts Express and eager to get into bed. If the first years will follow the prefects, they will show you where your common rooms are. Good night! Be sure to get plenty of rest because you wouldn’t want to be tired for your lessons tomorrow.”

Chuckling to himself, Dumbledore sat down as students began getting up from their tables and heading to the doors of the Great Hall.

“First year Gryffindors! First year Gryffindors! Gather around,” Hermione yelled through the din. “I’m Hermione Granger and this (as she motioned to Harry) is Harry Potter. We will be your prefects for the year. If you have any questions or concerns don’t hesitate to ask either Harry or myself. If you follow us, we will show you where your common room is.” Hermione was just about to turn around and lead them out of the Great Hall when a timid boy in the back raised his hand.

Hermione smiled, “Yes…”

“It’s Dan…my name is Dan Parsons.”

“Yes, Dan. You have a question?” Hermione asked again.

“Actually, it’s for Harry.”

“Okay, shoot,” replied Harry looking confused. What can he answer that Hermione can’t?

“Can I…can I see your scar?” Dan asked shyly. Harry didn’t know whether to groan or laugh, but indulged the first year with a smile.

“Sure, sure.” Harry answered and lifted his hair off of his forehead to reveal his famous trademark, the scar in the shape of a lightening bolt.

“Wow!” gasped the Gryffindor first years as they all crowded around Harry’s face to get a better look. Harry looked at Hermione pleadingly as if to help him get out of this mess, while Hermione just shrugged her shoulders and grinned giving him her best you-put-your-foot-in-it-now-deal-with-it look.

“Harry, it’s tradition. Every Gryffindor needs to catch a good glimpse of your famous scar. It’s like our unofficial mascot,” Hermione whispered in his ear, while now it was Harry that didn’t seem to be in the mood at the moment. The only thing that Harry could think of was, Screw tradition!

Screw tradition, indeed.