July 31, 1991
England, Little Whinging, 4 Privet Drive
"Harry, happy birthday, brother!" Dudley's voice woke me at eight in the morning. "Get up, we're having cake, and that mountain-man will probably be back soon."
Looks like I overslept. The exhaustion and nervous strain from using magic must have caught up with me — first the barrier, then breaking the gamekeeper's wand. I had been worried and wanted to know how the barrier would react to direct magic, but I wasn't about to risk Uncle Vernon's safety. What if the barrier hadn't held? That half-trained wizard with an umbrella instead of a wand could have turned him into something, and then what would I do? No, things like that were better prevented in advance than dealt with after it was too late.
I came out of my cupboard-bedroom, and Dudley and I had a short spar, dodging each other's jabs and lunges. Just the thing to wake up and loosen up. We had started training in taijutsu almost as soon as I arrived here, and over three years I'd drilled my friends pretty well. Dudley was better at it than Piers, though I'd trained with my brother far more often, including little spontaneous bouts like this one. I wouldn't be too worried about sending him off to that boys' boarding school, Smeltings Academy. Uncle Vernon had studied there and said the uniform included sticks, apparently as some kind of tradition, and the pupils were constantly fighting and whacking one another with them. However mediocre I was at kenjutsu, I knew the basics, and beginners trained with wooden bokken instead of real swords anyway. So at the beginning of summer break I'd shown Dudley and Piers a few moves, so that if anything happened, they'd be able to defend themselves in that strange school they were heading to.
"All right, all right," my brother laughed, blocking my strike. "You can keep practicing on the wizards. Mum and Dad are already waiting, and Dad's going to work a little later so he can congratulate you and see what sort of people turn up at ten."
I dashed to the bathroom, washed, 'hardened myself up', and got presentable.
A festive tablecloth had been spread over the kitchen-dining table, and in the center stood a cake with 'Happy Birthday, Harry!' written across it and eleven candles, which Auntie immediately lit. The family sang the cheerful birthday song, I made a wish as tradition demanded, and blew out the candles. In general, remembering how I'd ended up here, I kept my wishes modest and tried not to give the Universe any complicated assignments. This time I wished that everything would go well for my family while I was away. Then I could be calm about my 'rear lines', and they'd be fine too. I'd somehow handle everything else myself. Several brightly wrapped parcels with bows stood on the coffee table nearby — presents.
We drank tea and Dudley and I demolished almost the entire cake, leaving only pieces for Auntie and Uncle. The cake was amazing: nuts, cream, condensed milk, and soft sponge — exactly the way Big D and I liked it.
"That was delicious! Thank you for making it for me, Aunt Tuney!" Auntie sniffled and pulled me into a hug.
"Open your presents, Harry!" Dudley demanded. "Muuum, stop it, Harry's too old for that mushy stuff! You're embarrassing him."
I was released and began opening my presents.
"Whoa! Where did you get this?" Inside a box slightly smaller than an album was a genuine calligraphy set.
Four brushes of different sizes, special little dishes, dry ink, a stack of thin rice-paper sheets. A special holder and fastenings so nothing would rattle around, and a tiny water bottle. Basically, with a case like this I could go anywhere and use the set on the spot without worrying that something might fall out or blow away in the wind. There was a saying written on the lid and a really cool picture of a bird sitting on a branch.
"We placed an order with one of my company's suppliers," Uncle said, proudly twirling his moustache. "Had it brought over directly from Japan."
"This is awesome! Thank you!" I said with complete sincerity.
"Mine! Open mine!" my brother insisted, handing me another parcel.
"Whoa! Is that really...?" I pulled out a gray device shaped like a short pencil case. "It's a tape recorder? Wow!"
"And loads of batteries! And spare tapes too!" Dudley bounced around me. "Should last you ages."
Living with Snape-sensei had taught me that magic and electricity didn't coexist very well. If you cast spells near a television while it was running, you could ruin it with a short circuit. If electric lamps were switched on, magic made them flicker and sometimes burst. That was why wizards used candles or magical lamps for lighting, and their entertainment seemed to consist mostly of books and some broomstick game with a ridiculous number of balls — a game Harry had once played. But, as I'd discovered last August, Muggle devices powered by batteries got along with magic just fine. My brother's gift could prove extremely useful. Besides, being able to listen to a conversation a second time would often be useful if I needed to make sure I'd heard everything correctly, or let someone else hear it.
"We can send each other voice letters," Dudley said. He'd received a recorder and a cassette player for his own birthday last month.
"Exactly!" I immediately found another use for such a valuable gadget.
Auntie gave me a beautiful, soft, thick flannel pajama set, pale green with narrow diagonal dark-blue stripes. Proper grown-up pajamas, without stars or teddy bears.
"Lily used to tell me their castle was chilly," she explained. "I chose the warmest ones so you wouldn't catch cold."
The concern made my throat tighten.
"Thank you, Aunt Tuney!"
Our family idyll was interrupted by a strange sound that I recognized as something striking the magical protective field. Apparently it served as a kind of alert. Yesterday the gamekeeper had nearly brought the whole house down along with the barrier, there'd been such a loud 'BOOM'. But those sounds probably carried inward only, otherwise all the neighbors would definitely have been woken up. Dudley ran to the window.
"There's some woman out there in a cloak, glasses, and a pointy hat. Dressed like it's Halloween," he reported.
"At least it isn't that great oaf," Uncle Vernon snorted. "Come on."
Apparently my protection really did conceal everything behind it, because the woman's expression didn't change. She continued staring vaguely at the lawn and house. I recognized her from Harry's descriptions. At one point I'd nicknamed her 'Kyoujuneko'* in my notes because she could turn into a cat, and that cat had markings around its eyes shaped like the same 'glasses'.
"Good morning, Miss...?" Uncle said, and she turned toward his voice.
"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, and I have come at Headmaster Dumbledore's request," she informed us. "May I see Harry Potter?"
So she was that deputy headmistress who sent out the letters!
"I'm standing right in front of you, Professor McGonagall," I replied.
"It appears Lily's blood protection is working after all. And I had my doubts," she murmured, then said more loudly, "Unfortunately, I can't see you, Harry, and I cannot enter your house. Even the Floo connection doesn't work... Could you come outside?"
Auntie squeezed my shoulder, and the two of us stepped beyond the perimeter.
"Mrs. Dursley?" the professor drawled in surprise, as if I lived here alone. "Oh, how you've grown, Harry..."
"Would you mind diverting the neighbors' attention, ma'am?" Petunia-san asked. "Your clothing raises rather a lot of questions."
McGonagall pursed her lips, but took out her wand and made a couple of movements.
"I have come to escort you to Diagon Alley to purchase your school supplies, Harry. Hagrid told me that you are aware your parents were wizards. You were therefore entered into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from birth."
"I've read the letter, Professor McGonagall," I answered, somewhat puzzled. Kyoujuneko was clearly ignoring Petunia-san. Or was this simply how wizards treated 'Muggles'? "Auntie told me my parents were wizards, but she herself knows very little about the magical world."
"Naturally. What could ordinary Muggles know? I'll explain everything myself. You must have accumulated a great many questions," the professor promised. "You look so much like your parents, Harry... They were both in my House, Gryffindor. Such a shame they died so young."
"Ahem." Auntie cleared her throat to draw attention to herself. "Neither Harry nor I still know what actually happened to Lily and... James. The letter that was left with him merely instructed us to care for my late sister's child and threatened that we would be watched. And, incidentally, it said nothing at all about my sister's inheritance..."
"How dare you?!" McGonagall instantly bristled and tightened her grip on her wand. "You vile Muggle! You have designs on a little boy's money?"
"The boy may be a wizard, but, you know, even wizards need clothes, shoes, food, and school supplies," Auntie said with icy calm. "Vernon and I certainly haven't been ruined by looking after Harry, but for example, we don't have magical money with which to outfit him for your Hogwarts or buy the required books and robes."
"Harry has a vault in the bank, left to him by his parents for such expenses. You should have contacted the Potter family's representative at Gringotts Bank," the professor declared, lifting her chin. "Though in any case, Mr. Potter is now capable of managing his own finances, without any... Muggles."
I was seriously losing my mind over wizard logic. And over their arrogance too, for that matter. But patience, patience. I was only a little boy, under the guardianship of commoners, and I knew almost nothing about the magical world.
Auntie had helped uncover the inheritance issue, and I was grateful to her, though I could feel how nervous she'd been while standing up to a witch. The sensation of helplessness was oppressive.
"Mr. Potter will be coming with me," McGonagall said in a tone that allowed no argument. "We will visit the bank and then purchase his school supplies. He will return here this evening."
Auntie and I exchanged looks and didn't dare object. Who knew, perhaps she'd pull out her wand and 'clean up' Petunia-san's mind.
"Back no later than eight, Potter!" Uncle Vernon shouted from behind the fence, determined to have the last word. Auntie retreated beneath the protection, and I exhaled in relief.
"Come along, Harry," McGonagall said in a 'kind voice'. "How did you manage to spend ten years with those unbearable Muggles? I know today is your birthday. I even know what present I'm going to give you!"
"And how are we getting to this wizard street of yours, ma'am? Where is it?" I blinked innocently, steering Kyoujuneko's attention away from my family.
Because when it came to fighting a powerful evil wizard, apparently only an underage 'Chosen One' could manage it, but when it came to 'getting revenge' on Muggles, everyone was always eager to volunteer.
"We shall take a short journey... through a fireplace!" McGonagall smiled as we walked out onto Privet Drive. "But I should warn you: in the wizarding world, you are very famous. So don't be surprised if people approach you in the street and greet you. You are a national Hero."
"And what exactly am I famous for?"
"When you were very small, the magical world of Britain lived under the oppression of a terrible wizard. People were afraid even to say his name aloud. They called him 'You-Know-Who'. The only person unafraid to speak his name was the great Light wizard Albus Dumbledore," McGonagall declared with almost reverent awe. "You-Know-Who murdered many magical families. One day he came to your parents' house because he wanted to kill you. Your parents died saving you, and You-Know-Who was disembodied. Only you remained — the Boy-Who-Lived — and you defeated the Dark wizard."
"The magical world seems to enjoy giving people strange nicknames," I snorted.
What utter nonsense. And here I'd thought the whole business of Harry being 'chosen' from the very beginning had merely been a joke in his stories — a bit of sarcasm and grotesque exaggeration. Yet she was saying it completely seriously...
"This way. There is a magical fireplace here; we'll use it to reach London," the professor announced, stopping in front of... Mrs. Figg's house.
I nearly punched myself in the eye from secondhand embarrassment for the magical world. Absolutely no sense of secrecy whatsoever!
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* Kyoujuneko — 教授猫 — loosely translated from Japanese as 'Professor-Cat'.