Harry Potter sat quietly on his bed in the darkness and hoped that his cousin Dudley was going to want something complicated for breakfast. It might have been a strange hope for a young boy, but it had been almost a full day since Harry’s uncle had pushed him into the cupboard under the stairs where he slept, without any food. Uncle Vernon had gone out for the morning, and Harry’s best hope of being allowed out was that his Aunt Petunia would be distracted enough from her daily cleaning ritual that she would need Harry to help her with one task or another. Harry had heard Aunt Petunia walking up the stairs and Dudley being woken up for the second time about half an hour ago, had listened enviously as his cousin had complained about being woken up on a Sunday in the summer holidays, before getting up to have a shower for twenty whole minutes. If Harry spent longer than five minutes in the shower, Uncle Vernon would be banging on the door and turning the hot water off. Harry had gotten hopefully changed while his cousin was in the shower, out of his ratty pyjama trousers which he always slept in, into his usual amalgamation of random cast-offs from Dudley. However, when Dudley finally came down the stairs, it was only to turn on the television to some cartoons, put the volume up fully, and start clattering the spoon in his cereal. Harry’s stomach growled, he hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday. His uncle was still furious with him for that trip to the zoo, and that was over a week ago now.

Dudley was heading through to the kitchen, to get himself a third bowl of cereal, when Harry heard him stop complaining (about how there hadn’t been any sugar on top), midsentence.

“How come the freak didn’t have to get up?” Dudley kicked the door so that it rattled.

Harry’s ears perked up, he was starting to think that even cleaning would be better than sitting in his cupboard doing nothing all day. He was disappointed then by the sound of the front door opening, signalling the return of Vernon Dursley from his weekend trip to the bakery. Dudley was instantly distracted by his father, and more so by the cakes, and went back to his cartoons without a spare thought for Harry.

Harry leaned back against the wall and pulled Dudley’s old, broken toy soldiers from where they were hidden on the cupboard shelf. He started playing with them absent-mindedly, he wasn’t playing a baby’s game or anything, but this was better than nothing. It looked like he was here for a couple more hours, at least.


The doorbell rang and Harry looked up, surprised. Mr Dursley was downright unfriendly to almost all of those who came to his door, and Aunt Petunia was little better. Most of the local door-to-door salesmen and charity collectors had blacklisted the house.

Heavy footsteps passed down the hallway and the front door opened again. Harry heard snatches of voices.
“What in blazes do you want at this time of day?” Vernon demanded.

“… Potter… today.” A male voice said from outside. “I suggest… in.”

Harry frowned, he was almost sure he had just heard his own name.

“There is nobody by that name here.” Vernon snapped, “You cannot come in.”

“…insist……” The voice continued, “at once…term…”

Was this a teacher, Harry wondered? Surely not. He was supposed to start at Stonewall High in a couple of weeks’ time. He was sure all of his old teachers would have forgotten him by now, and none of his new teachers would know who he was yet.
The front door slammed shut, and Harry was disappointed that he hadn’t got to hear more. The doorbell rang again, but Vernon Dursley’s footsteps echoed back down towards the kitchen.

He paused outside the cupboard door, and Harry wondered if his uncle was going to speak to him, or let him out, but the moment passed, and Vernon passed into the kitchen, speaking in a hushed voice to his wife, who was asking what all the fuss was about.

Vernon had barely made it that far when there was a sudden, loud bang. Harry felt the cupboard shake, as (he guessed) the front door was propelled open and slammed into the wall beside it.

The Dursleys shouted in alarm, and Harry pressed himself further into his cupboard. Now, Harry just wanted the visitor to disappear.
Vernon Dursley barrelled down the hall, but his voice cut out abruptly, mid bellow. There was a flash of light, which lit up the outline of the cupboard door suddenly in a bright red. Harry blinked, and the colour had vanished, but he was irked by a memory he could not quite remember. There were more footsteps, and more, quieter thuds, and some strange fizzing noises. The T.V. cut out. Then there was silence. Harry’s breath caught in his throat.


A single set of footsteps approached across the ground floor. And somehow, Harry knew they were coming to his cupboard. When the steps reached the smooth floor of the hallway, Harry knew from the noise of the hard shoes that they did not belong to any of his family. They stopped.

Someone fiddled with the bolt on the cupboard, obviously unfamiliar with the mechanism. Harry bit his lip and retreated further. The door swung open, and light flooded the cupboard for the first time in hours.

“Get out.” A voice said. Harry peered out between his knees, which were pulled up protectively to his chest. A tall man was standing there. Dressed all in black, and wrapped in some strange cloak, like he was dressed up for Halloween, or something. The man was blocking most of the doorway, but past the man, Harry could see his aunt’s foot on the floor, at an angle which could only mean she was lying on the floor of the sitting room. Had this man killed his family? Was Harry next?

Harry felt anxiety rising in his chest, and something else too, something unfamiliar.

“Oh no you don’t.” The man said, frowning. He pulled something out of a pocket, and his hand seemed to be holding a stone. Harry flinched, but there was nowhere to go. Instead of hitting Harry with the stone however, the man simply tapped him on the ankle. “Come out and I will explain.”

Harry’s anxiety was still there, but he felt whatever the something else was dissipate into nothing. The man reached into the cupboard, and grasped Harry by the closest shoulder, pulling insistently.

Harry thrashed to the side, kicking out, his foot connecting poorly with the man. The man let go of his shoulder, but grabbed his leg instead, managing to extract the boy onto the cold, linoleum floor of the hall. Harry jarred his elbow badly as he fell. He looked up at the man towering above him.

He was tall, Harry thought. The man was also really pale, like he hadn’t been out in the sun for about a year. He had long black hair, longer than Harry had ever seen on a man- no wonder Uncle Vernon hadn’t liked him. His eyes were black too, and fierce as they glared down at the 10 year old.

“Come.” The man turned and walked into the sitting room. Harry stared after him, open mouthed. He got slowly to his feet, and took a few steps towards the front door. He put his hand out to grasp the door handle, but snatched it back with a gasp as he was caught by a static shock.

“Potter!” The voice called. “Now.”


Harry sighed, and walked to the sitting room, bracing himself for what he might see.

He stopped dead in the doorway. Dudley was sprawled out across the couch, probably as he had been to watch his cartoons. He was lying strangely still, apart from his eyes, which darted fiercely between the other people in the room. He had dropped his cake, and it was slowly slipping towards the edge of the couch.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were both sprawled on the floor, their backs reclined slightly against the front of the couch that Dudley was on. Their heads were moving, but they seemed unable to move anything below their necks. And they couldn’t speak either. Uncle Vernon’s lips refused to open, and Aunt Petunia couldn’t seem to open her jaw. She made a strange hissing noise at the man, who ignored her.

The strange man was sitting, in a chair he had dragged into the middle of the room.
“Sit, Mr Potter.”

Harry came into the room cautiously, cursing himself for an idiot for doing so, and sat in the last chair, Uncle Vernon’s armchair, which was directly opposite the strange man.

“Who are you? Are they okay?” Harry blurted.

The man frowned, “I am Professor Snape, I teach at Hogwarts. Your family are … fine.”

“Hogwarts? Is that a school?” Harry blinked. “Sorry, Professor, I haven’t heard of it. I’m going to Stonewall-“

“No.” The man interrupted firmly. “You are going to Hogwarts.”

Aunt Petunia hissed again, and both of them glanced at her.

“Um… why?” Harry asked, looking back at the man.

“Because you are a wizard, and Hogwarts is a school of magic.” Snape said simply.

Harry gave a tight laugh. He stopped after a couple of seconds, as he realised his relatives were staring in silent horror, and this Snape man looked like he had never laughed at anything in his life.

“I’m sorry, Professor, but I can’t be a wizard. I can’t do magic.”

“Of course you can do magic.” Snape produced a large folder from somewhere – maybe it had been inside that cloak, but the man hadn’t moved that much… Harry saw a photograph of himself in the Dursley’s garden stuck to the front of the folder. That was strange, Harry could only remember ever having one photo taken before- when Aunt Petunia had forgotten to keep him off school on photo day, and nobody had bought it, of course. He still had the small one his teacher had handed out – with ‘sample’ stamped across his face. Even stranger, Harry could have sworn the him in the photograph blinked. Snape opened the folder, scanning down a list on one page. “Growing your hair, shrinking clothes, apparating.”

“Everyone’s hair grows.” Harry pointed out, “And I’ve never shrunk any clothes. Aunt Petunia has a couple of times though, with the washing.”

“Making glass temporarily permeable?”

“… They said there was a hole in the tank.”

Snape growled a little. “For Merlin’s sake, Potter. You are a wizard, and you are coming to Hogwarts today.”

Harry blinked, perplexed. “Today? But..” He glanced at his aunt and uncle who looked equal parts furious and terrified. “I won’t be allowed.”

“Do they look like they are going to stop us?” Snape asked archly.

“Will they be okay?” Harry asked instead, “You haven’t hurt them, have you? Why can’t they move?”

“They won’t remember a thing.”

Harry wondered if that was supposed to sound as sinister as it did.

“Why are you… taking me away?”

“Wizards must be taught to use their magic, so they may become productive members of society. They cannot be allowed to become untaught, uncontrolled dangers to magical people and their way of life.”

“Oh, so it’s like a prison? For people who do… strange things.”

“It is ‘like’ a school, Mr Potter. There are lessons and exams and clubs for fun.”

“Are you a wizard, Professor?”

“Am I a…” Snape looked at Harry like he was the biggest idiot in the world. He gestured wildly at the Dursley’s who were mostly motionless. “What do you think?”

“You could have paralo- palyra-. Uh, frozen them. With medicines or something”

The man looked hugely unimpressed, but a stick appeared in his hand from no-where and he brought it to point at the fireplace. It suddenly started to snow down the chimney. Harry jumped from his seat and ran to look. It was real, cold snow. Melting as it landed on the cold metal of the electric fireplace. Harry glanced out the curtains, but it was still a sunny day in July.

“Uh.” He said, eloquently.

“I will take you to the school, and you will undergo orientation. After this, you will have your placement exam, and school begins properly in a fortnight.”

“Uh. But isn’t it the holidays at this school? And it’s a Sunday.”

“Hogwarts is a boarding school.” The man said impatiently. “Some students arrive earlier than others.”

Snape reached into his pocket and withdrew what looked like a wallet. He tapped it with the stick of his and it unfolded itself impossibly until it was an old-fashioned suitcase which came almost up to Harry’s waist.

“Pack up your things. Bring everything which you might want, we do not accept Muggle parcels, and nobody will collect anything for you. School uniform, etcetera, are provided by Hogwarts. You may not bring electronics to the school.”

“But Professor… what if I don’t want to come?”

Snape examined him for a moment. “Mr Potter, at Hogwarts you will learn to control the elements at your will. You will be able to brew potions which can alter anything from appearance, to creating luck, to saving a person’s life. You will be able to read the future and the past from the movement of the stars. You could change any object into almost anything you desire, and back again. You could duel with magic, or rear magical creatures. You could fly. Remaining here, you will be lucky to become the country’s scrawniest bricklayer in 5 years time.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked a few times. He hadn’t been expecting an impassioned speech from the man. Or such a blunt assessment of his future “What do you teach, Professor?”

“Duelling and Defence, Potter.”

“Oh. That sounds cool.” Snape stared at him. Harry shook his head to clear it and then swallowed nervously. “What about during the holidays?”

“There are Holidays over New Year and Summer.” Snape replied, his mask like face betraying nothing.

“And I come back here for that?” Harry pressed.

Snape blinked, “Would you want to?”

“I don’t know.” Harry said, honestly, feeling somewhat guilty, and ungrateful to the Dursleys, even if they had always made it clear that he was an inconvenience to them. Snape didn’t reply anyway.

“Right, well I’ll just collect my stuff then. I guess.”


Harry grabbed the handle of the case, and noticed a bronze plaque on the front with his initials on. Snape must have been really confident that Harry would say yes. Although Harry had the distinct feeling that, had he been any more reluctant, the professor would have simply forced him anyway.

Harry dragged the case to his still open cupboard door. He reached under the bed, and pulled out his pile of clothes, putting them straight in. He grabbed the toy soldiers from his shelf, and his school rucksack, with pencils and old jotters from last year that he could still get some use out of. Harry emerged, noticing that Snape hadn’t moved, except to watch Harry.
Harry went through to the kitchen and grabbed a few slices of bread from the packet on the counter (who knew how long it would take to get to this school), and stuffed them into a large sandwich bag and into his pocket. He scrambled up the stairs to the bathroom and took his toothbrush, nicking the open bottles of Dudley’s shampoo and shower gel, and the Dursley’s toothpaste.

Harry took a moment to consider whether there was anything else he might have forgotten. He sneaked into his Aunt and Uncle’s room, and took a niceish clean towel from their linen cupboard. Going back down the stairs, Harry reflected that it was a good thing that Dudley didn’t have to pack in a hurry for his school. He wouldn’t want to leave anything behind at all.

Harry was surprised to see Professor Snape already waiting in the hallway, staring blankly at the photographs of the Dursley family which cluttered the walls. Snape’s focus shifted to Harry as he came down off the final step. Harry felt Snape watch him as he stuffed the final things into his case.

“You may say farewell to your relatives.”

With that ominous finality, Harry stuck his head into the sitting room. The three Dursleys were now standing upright, unnaturally so. Petunia and Vernon straight-backed and proper, each with a hand on Dudley’s shoulder. All wide-eyed and unblinking. Uncannily like some of the poses they were in in their photos on the walls.

Harry’s heart pounded as he stared at them. Uncle Vernon’s jaw started working, as if he was chewing toffee, and strange humming noises came from his nose. Aunt Petunia was hissing again, and Harry realised that she couldn’t open her jaw at all, but her lips were moving. Dudley’s mouth was open, and his chest heaving with panicked breaths. Harry thought his cousin was simply silent out of fear.

Harry swallowed nervously. He turned on the spot to look at the professor who had done this to them. Snape was watching him coldly, leaning back against the banister, arms crossed and his magic stick – a wand? – in one hand.

“Please, would you let them go?” Harry said. “They haven’t done anything.”

“Haven’t they?” Snape raised an eyebrow. “They will be fine. I simply do not have the patience for idle muggle chatter. The spell will wear off in two minutes time, by which time, I would like us to be gone. Say goodbye.”

Harry searched the man’s eyes for any sign of relenting, but found none, only impatience. He bit his lip and went back into the sitting room.

“Goodbye.” Harry said simply, looking at his aunt and cousin, and sparing the briefest of glances for his uncle, who was turning an alarming bright red. “I’m sorry. I do believe he’ll let you free soon though. And he would take me away no matter what I say.”

Aunt Petunias mouth settled in a disapproving straight line. She blinked twice, deliberately. Harry decided to interpret that as the only goodbye he was going to get, rather than as a ‘get out’.

“Yeah, bye. Er, have a good time at Smelting’s, Dudley.”


Harry walked back to Snape, who had shrunk down Harry’s trunk to the size of a backpack, and handed it back to him. Snape led the way out of the front door, and to the edge of the kerb, sticking his arm out in front of him.

There was a bang and a towering purple monstrosity appeared on Privet Drive. Harry took several quick steps backwards, and blinked at the triple decker bus which was suddenly in front of them. Harry watched as a gangly figure jumped down from the doors and a young man in a strange orange cloak walked up to them, bowing oddly.
“Professor, fancy finding you out here. I’d never expected to find you among the Muggles. Collection day exemption, I take it, Sir?”
Harry chanced a glance at Professor Snape, who looked more irritated, if that was possible.

“If you would, Shunpike. I do not have all day. You would do well to stop reminding me why you did not graduate past Hufflepuff.”

“Sorry, Professor.” Harry thought this Shunpike guy looked terrified, and he could understand why. He didn’t look like he could have left school all that long ago. “If you and the young gentleman step this way, we’ll have you in Scotland in no time. He’s only our sixth today, you got an early start, Professor.”

The young man took up Harry’s trunk, and swung it high in the air, clearly misjudging how light it would be. Snape ascended the steps to the bus, expecting Harry to follow.
Harry looked back over to the house and saw the silhouette of his family through the net curtains of the sitting room. They were wavering slightly, and as Harry watched, the three of them tumbled into a heap.

The young man – Shunpike- was waiting for Harry to get onto the bus, and Snape glanced back, irritated and alert, from his place in the doorway of the bus. Harry climbed on, pulling himself up by the purple handrail. Snape led them to the only normal looking seats on the ground floor of the bus, the others were all armchairs, and peculiarly, a footstool. As Harry sat down, Snape waved his wand and a rope appeared out of the end of it and wrapped around the boy in a way which was slightly alarming, but Snape tapped the rope again and it stopped trying to strangle Harry, and instead fastened around his chest and seat back as a kind of crude seatbelt. The bus started to pull away, and Harry was just able to pull far enough away from his restraint to see the three Dursleys peering carefully past the curtain.

The bus sped away like a race car, and Privet Drive disappeared in a blur.