Chapter Text
It was a perfectly normal day, in a perfectly normal house, on a perfectly normal street. The three perfectly normal members of the perfectly normal family went about their morning, just as they always did.
A knock sounds at the door.
"Boy!" Uncle Vernon roars. "Get the door!"
Harry hurriedly unfolds himself, barely managing to avoid tripping over Dudley's Smeltings stick as he heads into the hallway. Please, let it not be one of the neighbors.
When he opens the door, a tall man is standing there, hand raised to knock again. He's wearing a crisp white button down, and a matched pinstripe vest and slacks. His hand is resting on a dark wooden cane, and it all makes him look terribly official, even if his hair is rather long.
"Ah," the man says, clasping his hands together on top of his cane. "You must be Harry Potter."
Harry can't help but start. "How'd you know my name?"
The man narrows his eyes slightly, the grey flashing a rather harsh silver, but he doesn't drop his smile. "Well, I have come here to talk to you about a rather special school, you know. Are your aunt and uncle home?"
"Um," Harry replies. "Yeah, they're having breakfast."
The man raises an eyebrow. "They are, and you aren't?"
"I'm done," Harry says quickly. A bit too quickly, if he can judge by the eyebrow inching even further upwards. It isn't a lie , though, he is done with his plain toast.
"My brother would never stand for this," the man mutters, but shifts his hold on the cane. "Mind if I come in?"
Harry glances back towards the kitchen, but opens the door to let him in anyway.
"Who is it, boy?" Aunt Petunia snaps.
Great. "It's, um, a teacher," Harry calls back hesitantly. The man nods. "He said he wants to talk about my school?"
His aunt is in the hallway within a single heartbeat. "No! No more freaks in my house!"
"Hello, Mrs. Dursley," the teacher says calmly. "I'm Professor Leo Sterling, from Hogwarts. I assume you would like to discuss young Harry's school arrangements?"
Aunt Petunia recoils. "It's you. You're that awful boy from the wedding. Freaks, all of you! Go away!"
Professor Sterling doesn't stop smiling pleasantly. Harry envies his composure. "I'm afraid you're mistaking me for my elder brother, Mrs. Dursley. I was not, in fact, present at your sister's wedding."
"I don't want to deal with any of your freakish nonsense," Aunt Petunia spits. Harry flinches on instinct. "We're normal people, thank you very much. Get out."
That just makes Professor Sterling tilt his head. "Before their deaths, the Potters arranged for Harry to attend the most elite magical boarding school in all of Britain. The cost has already been paid, the registration completed. You will not be disturbed by any witch or wizard after this visit, and Harry would be away from September until May."
Aunt Petunia pauses. "I will not be involved in any of your absurd freakishness."
"No," Professor Sterling agrees. "You are, after all, not magical. I will take care of any needed arrangements in the wizarding world. This will not cost you a knut- or even a pound. All you will need to do is take him to and from the train station at the start and end of each summer."
She scowls. "Very well, then. The boy can go. We won't have to put up with him."
"Petunia?" Vernon calls.
"We're sending the boy away to his own kind over the school year," Aunt Petunia informs him, then glances back to Harry and Professor Sterling as if they were dirt stains on a good blouse. "Well? Out!"
Professor Sterling smiles. "I will take Harry to purchase his school supplies, then. He will be back before dark, of course."
Aunt Petunia scowls even harder.
"Come along, Harry," Professor Sterling says kindly. "We've got a rather short bus ride ahead of us."
Harry just blinks, and nods hesitantly. "So- you teach at a school? A magic school? But magic isn't real!"
"Oh, says who?" Professor Sterling replies lightly, starting down the sidewalk. He does actually lean on his cane, unlike some of the businessmen who only carry one for show. "Here, I'll prove you wrong. Are your glasses broken?"
Harry goes a little cross-eyed, looking at the tape holding them together. "Yeah."
Professor Sterling glances around, and then pulls a stick out of his sleeve, tapping it against the arm of his glasses. " Reparo. "
The tape falls off, but the scratches disappear from the lenses, and they no longer sit awkwardly on his face. Harry can't help his gasp.
"Relatively simple spell," Professor Sterling announces, "but very useful. I think you'll get to that… oh, around third year. Are they better?"
"Tons," Harry admits. Everything around him seems much, much clearer. Okay. Maybe the professor isn't mad. He'd just done the impossible, after all. "Where are we going?"
Professor Sterling smiles at him, a real one, not like the polite mask he'd had for Aunt Petunia. "Diagon Alley," he replies. "The central shopping place for all of British Wizardkind. The entrance is in London; we'll be taking a magic bus."
Magic bus , Harry repeats silently, even as Professor Sterling holds out a hand. A bright purple bus screeches into existence in front of them, and he can't help but flinch back. Professor Sterling just pats his shoulder. "You'll get used to it."
"Leo!" calls the driver. "How are you? Showing another Muggleborn around?"
"Very well, thank you, Stan!" Professor Sterling replies, pushing Harry up towards the bus. He climbs the steps hesitantly. "And yes, this one's Hogwarts-bound in September. Leaky Cauldron, if you don't mind."
The driver grins, as Professor Sterling drops a few coins into a bowl. Bus fare, Harry realizes. "Take your seats, then. You've managed to beat most of the crowd, but we have a few stops ahead of you."
Professor Sterling steers him towards a seat near the back. "Of course. Harry, here is fine."
Harry sits, and the moment he does, the bus lurches back into traffic.
"I'm sorry I couldn't give this to you before your aunt decided to scream at us," Professor Sterling says, pulling a large envelope from a pocket that it really shouldn't have fit in. "But this is your acceptance letter."
It's addressed to one Harry J. Potter, the Cupboard Under the Stairs, Little Whinging, Surrey. Harry tries his best to keep the wax seal intact, but it doesn't quite work.
He reads over the impossible letter, then reads it again. "But I'm not magic," he whispers. "I'm just Harry."
"You are," Professor Sterling reassures him. The bus stops, and an old woman with an odd hat steps off. "Have you ever turned things odd colors? Broken or fixed things? Made your hair grow too fast or scrapes heal quickly?"
After a moment, Harry nods. "I turned my teacher's hair blue. And when Dudley was chasing me, I wanted to be someplace he couldn't get me, and then I was on the roof."
Professor Sterling raises an eyebrow. "That's very impressive, actually. Good job."
He'd gotten a week of only bread and water for that, and was locked in his cupboard for most of that time, but he supposes it could be impressive as well.
"First things first," Professor Sterling decides. "I'll take you to Gringotts, so you can get to your trust vault, and then we can head to get your school robes and potions supplies. We can get your books and wand after lunch, and if you think you can care for her, we'll get you an owl."
"An owl?" Harry asks.
Professor Sterling nods. "It's how wizards deliver mail. Now, I'm very sorry to be the one to tell your this, and so quickly, but try to hide your scar. You're rather famous in our world."
" Famous ? Me? But I'm just-"
"There was a wizarding war, ten years ago," Professor Sterling interrupts. His eyes are closed very, very tightly, and his hands are clenched. "The leader of the Dark- his name is Voldemort, but most call him You-Know-Who- attacked your parents. They died. He cast an undeflectable Killing Curse at you, but you didn't die. He did. They call you the Boy-Who-Lived, because your survival ended the war."
Harry stares. "I killed him? As a baby?"
"His own Killing Curse reflected off of you and hit him," Professor Sterling says firmly. "We don't know how, but many see you as a hero. Voldemort's fall that night ended the war, and saved countless lives."
"Leaky Cauldron!" the driver calls out cheerfully.
A few people inside the pub stare at him, but most ignore them. After what Professor Sterling just said, Harry's glad.
Thankfully, nobody bothers them as his professor guides them through the crowds, muttering explanations for anything that startles him. There's a lot of explanations needed.
Gringotts itself is huge, and the goblins are more than a little terrifying. "This is your key," Professor Sterling says, pressing it into his hand as the nauseating cart ride slows down. "Keep it safe, Harry. It's the only way to get to your money."
Harry nods, and Professor Sterling conjures a leather cord to keep it on for the moment. The goblin watches them with narrowed eyes.
But then his trust vault is opened, and Harry is almost sick with all the gold and silver inside. All this time of wearing rags, eating scraps, and he's had this .
Professor Sterling walks him through the basics of wizarding money, and how much he'll need for his school list, and how much he should have as spending money. Harry stares at the massive piles of gold, and exhales slowly.
"Robes and potions," Professor Sterling says cheerfully, pushing him towards one of the most crowded shops.
The first half of the day passes in a blur of fabric and cauldrons, and then Harry finds himself back in the Leaky Cauldron, a steaming bowl of soup in front of him. Professor Sterling raises an eyebrow from across the table, gesturing with his own spoon. Harry takes the hint, and tries the soup.
It's easily one of the best things he's ever had, though he's not sure if that's a compliment to magic or an insult to Aunt Petunia. Most likely both.
Professor Sterling doesn't say anything, and they eat in silence for a few moments, until he finally asks, "Are you enjoying the Wizarding World so far, Harry?"
Harry nods so quickly that he almost chokes. "Yes! It's amazing. Everything is so- so-"
"Magical?" Professor Sterling offers dryly.
" Yes, " Harry agrees. He's too enthusiastic and he knows it, but the teacher just smiles at him and nods. "I can't wait for Hogwarts."
"If you're this excited to learn, I anxiously await your third year," Professor Sterling replies. "You will make an excellent student, I'm sure of that."
Harry blinks. "Why my third year?"
Professor Sterling sighs. "I teach Ancient Runes, which is an elective that you can't take until your third year. It's a harder class than most of the others, except Arithmancy or Transfiguration. Charms is tricky, too, and Potions is all over the place."
"What are runes?" Harry asks innocently.
Professor Sterling's eyes spark, and he sits up a little straighter. "It's a bit like the English alphabet, combining letters into words into sentences, and using sentences to give directions," he begins, gesturing wildly with his free hand. "Think about it! Communication is the greatest power of all. Because, see, runes are used to make things stronger, or protect things, and normal magic can't break through them. There's so much potential, Harry, and wizards have only barely begun to explore that potential over the past thousand years."
It's obvious how much the man loves his subject. But listening to him talk about runes and wand movements and the origins of magic, Harry thinks that he could probably come to love runes too.
Lunch turns into an incredibly fascinating impromptu lecture, and Harry can't remember being this happy in an incredibly long time.
Until he steps foot in a wizarding bookstore. "There's so many books!"
"This is only the first section," Professor Sterling promises. "All your schoolbooks are right here, but I think we can sneak in a couple more, don't you?"
Harry has to put back about six books that Professor Sterling shakes his head at. "But turning into an animal would be so cool," Harry protests, as his future professor reshelves one of those books.
"Professor McGonagall may deign to teach you that," Professor Sterling replies. " After you've graduated. It's incredibly advanced and dangerous magic, Harry, and you can certainly learn someday. But not until at least fifth year, alright?"
Mollified, Harry nods. He ends up with an armful of schoolbooks, and a basic text on runes that's the size of a small brick. Professor Sterling grins when he sees it in his hands, and Harry tries and fails to ignore how his chest aches at the pride in his teacher's expression.
And then, the moment he's been most excited for, buying a wand.
Ollivander's is small and dusty and cramped, with an odd old man peering down at him. "Harry Potter, hm? I was wondering when I'd see you, yes. And R-"
"Leo," Professor Sterling says quickly, but there's an odd tremor in his tone.
Ollivander narrows his eyes, but nods after a moment. "Yes, I suppose so. You've got more of your brother in you now. Dragon heartstring and aspen, I believe?"
"It's served me well this past decade," Professor Sterling agrees, relaxing slightly.
The elderly wandmaker waves his own wand, and a measuring tape floats over to Harry, darting around and recording… something. "I remember when I sold your parents their wands, Mr. Potter," Ollivander says, not even looking at him, sorting through a shelf in the back. "James and Lily Potter, both so unusually matched with their wand woods. Hm. I wonder if you'll be as hard to match as they were."
Professor Sterling catches his bewildered look, and just shrugs.
Harry leaves the shop with a holly and phoenix feather wand in his pocket, and a vaguely ominous feeling in his chest. Why, its brother gave you that scar!
"How about magical ice cream," Professor Sterling offers, looking a little pale himself.
"Yeah," Harry agrees, and they make one last stop before leaving Diagon Alley.
Aunt Petunia lets Professor Sterling into the house just long enough to tell her directions to drop Harry off, at the station he's already had explained, and begrudgingly allows him to put Harry's new school trunk away in the cupboard.
"It'll never fit," Harry whispers.
Professor Sterling winks, waves his wand, and the inside of the cupboard triples in size. "Magic," he whispers back, and slides the trunk in easily.
Harry pushes down his threatening laughter. Aunt Petunia hadn't even noticed the man do magic on her own house. "Thank you, professor."
"I'll see you in September," Professor Sterling promises.
He only gets a step away before Harry gives in to the urge to hug him.
"I'll see you soon," Professor Sterling insists, ruffling his hair. "I promise."
Harry manages a weak smile, and nods.