Prolouge
Harry Potter was a good, obedient boy, everyone at the orphanage knew that. Harry would help do the dishes even when it wasn’t his turn, he would help anyone who asked with their homework, he would read stories to the younger orphans. The staff adored the boy and the children worshipped him, how he hadn’t found a home yet, they didn’t know.
Harry had been adopted five times but he had been returned everytime.
He knew why he was returned, because he refused to let the people into his Gringotts vault. Gringotts was a wizarding bank and yes, Harry was a wizard, he’d learned that after his first adoption. All five adoptions were done by wizards and or witches looking to get into his vault and -when they eventually failed, when he discovered their intentions- they returned him swiftly. However, he’d come out of the adoptions richer, both literally and metaphorically. He now knew he had a vault and that he was a wizard. Since then, whenever the orphanage made a trip to London, he made a point of going to diagon alley and buying books.
He memorised the first year, second year and half of the third year curriculum of Hogwarts. Now, he hadn’t been able to use any magic -Ollivanders refused to sell him a wand and the other wandmaker was in the dangerous nockturn alley- but he knew a lot more about the world which was his. Knowledge was power and power was everything. If you had no power, you would be used and he refused to be used, he wanted to be in control.
Now, his friendly self, which all the orphanage knew, wasn’t a lie, far from it but it wasn’t his only side. There was one, far darker, which only showed itself sparcely, definetly not at the orphanage. Back when he had almost been kidnapped, it first appeared, he was nine back then. It scared him, that he had that side but, over the years, he learned to live with it, he learned not to feel guilty about what that side of him would do.
Right now, Harry was sitting in his room -the only single bed room of the orphanage, which he earned with his many good deeds- when the matron came to him, a stern looking woman close in hand, “Harry dear”, the matron explained, “this is Mrs. Professor McGonagall, she comes on behalf of a special school that wants you to attend”
Harry couldn’t belief it! She was here, the Hogwarts professor was here. His grin spread cheek to cheek, “Wow, thank you Ma’am Stein for bringing her but- I think I want to talk to her alone”
Harry knew magic was hidden, so Ms. Stein couldn’t hear about it, after all, she wasn’t magic!
“Of course, wouldn’t want you to become nervous around me”, she reasoned, leaving, “I’ll be back at my office if you need any of his documents”
After a few seconds, he was sure, Ms. Stein was out of earshot and, with bubbling excitement, he turned to Prof. McGonagall, “Are you from hogwarts? I read all about it in-”, he paused for a split second, he wasn’t sure if he would have been allowed to go to diagon alley and get books beforehand normally, “in the books my parents left me”
It wasn’t even a lie, technically, when he’d first been adopted, he had recieved a few personal items of his parents, including his mother’s diary of her time in hogwarts, or the first two years of it. This diary, he pulled out, “my mom left me this, together with the first year books”
Now that second part was a lie but shhh!
“Lily left you that? Well, this makes this a few magnitudes easier, yes I am from hogwarts, I teach transfiguration there”, the stern woman explained, tucking her glasses further up her nose, “I suppose, you know then why I’m here?”
“Yeah, you were the one who visited my mom too, she wrote about you. You’ll take me to magic shopping”, he beamed with excitement, the day had finally come.
“Exactly”, a thin smile spread across the professor’s lips, “follow me please”
The two of them walked outside the orphanage, passing Ms. Stein on the way, out to the road and -Harry’s arm crossed with the Professor’s- they vanished from sight.
It felt as though someone was pulling Harry through a straw by his belly buttom, there was spinning and suddently, he was in diagon alley, a lot more nausious than he had been before. Said nausiation caused a mighty amount of throwing up whilst Professor McGonagall stood by, akwardly. Once he was done, they went on to buy his supplies.
Or rather, they exchanged some muggle money first. Ms. Stein had given Harry a nice bit of cash for his school supplies when they passed her. Once converted, he had enough wizarding money to buy good supplies without resorting to his own vault, since he had all his books, all but the Defence Against the Dark Arts book, apperently there was a new teacher every year, as McGonagall explained. They got his potions supplies, clothes and, lastly and most importantly, his wand.
Harry tried many a wand before he found his own, a yew wood wand with a dragon heartstring core, “14 ⅓ inches, rigid”, Ollivander told him, “perfect for big spells, if a bit restricting in the more finer facites of spellwork”
When they were done with shopping, Harry was exhausted but Happy, he would finally be going to hogwarts, his dream school, his world. A world where he was more than an unimportant, if nice orphan, a world where he was famous, important, where people looked up to him.