Chapter 9 - Not everything are hallucinations

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"Ah, Hagrid... I trust everything went well?" Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, owner of the Order Of Merlin (First Class), and greatest wizard since - well, since Merlin himself, at least as far as Hagrid was concerned - sat behind his enormous desk, twinkling at the half-giant who had just entered his office.

"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore, of course, everything just fine. Such a nice and quite boy, little Harry. Looks almost exactly like James - except for his eyes, of course. Haven't met a more well-behaved first-year for quite some time, Professors Dumbledore, Sir... no, will be a pleasure to have little Harry here. Very eager to learn about magic, had to tell him everything I know - oh, well, that Aunt of him - Lily's sister - she has never told him much about magic and Hogwarts and his parents... don't quite understand it..."

"Ah, well, I think this was to be expected. Though I confess, I hoped Petunia would have moved on and would no longer hold a grudge against the wizarding world. Well, perhaps some wounds are too deep to ever heal properly... well, but she took the boy in. She treat the boy well, I suppose?"

"Yes, yes, Headmaster, Sir! Well... she might have been a bit strict... but everything seemed to be fine. Harry is quite a shy boy, you know... didn't tell me much about his life with the muggles, but he would have said something if he had been unhappy, I'm sure. No... his relatives might not be the most warm-hearted people - unlike Lily and James - but they treat him all right, yes, all right.
Oh, she said me she needed records! I told her I would arrange this... mentioned something about... eh, some kind of dot... dotor who would need to know where little Harry would be going..." Hagrid frowned. He had almost forgotten that Harry's aunt had told him something about this strange dotor-person. But the boy was healthy. After all, he had just spend an entire day with him and he would have noticed if he had some kind of illness!

"Dotor?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Ah, well, not sure about this... might even have misunderstood her. I think she mentioned something about a dotor being some kind of muggle-healer. Little Harry is quite healthy, so! But perhaps this is something muggles do? Taking children to healers even if they are healthy?"

"Hm, I'm not sure about it... but you said he seemed to be healthy?"

"Yes, Professors Dumbledore, quite healthy, little Harry! I'm sure there is nothing wrong with him!"

"Hm... so did you notice anything unusual about the boy?" Dumbledore didn't want to reveal that he had been a little bit worried whether the boy had fared well. There was, after all, the possibility that the killing curse while not having managed to kill him had done something else.

Hagrid briefly thought about the incident in the bathroom... and the fact that the boy had hardly spoken during the day. But well... he really didn't want to bring the boy into trouble. And his aunt would have told him if something would be seriously wrong with him. Calling him a freak didn't count, since this was only another word for wizard, wasn't it? "No Professors, Sir, everything is fine with the boy. A bit quite and shy, perhaps, nothing like James in this regard, but completely normal and healthy and happy!"

"Well, all right, then. I will tell Minerva to prepare records for him as well. Shouldn't be a problem, no matter what this dotor is... I trust you have taken care of Harry receiving his ticket and know everything about how to enter the platform?"

"Of course, made sure he knows everything! Left the ticket with his aunt so he wouldn't lose it!" He HAD told the boy about how to go to the right platform, hadn't he? He couldn't quite remember, having told Harry about everyone and everything. But yes, he was sure he had mentioned the Hogwarts Express, and Kings Cross, and Platform Nine and Three-Quartes. Yes, he had!

"Ah, yes, I expected nothing less of you." Dumbeldore twinkled, „Hm, how did the shopping go? Did you experienced any problems?"

"Ah, well, some people in the Leaky Cauldron got a bit over-excited but we managed to get rid of them. Had a little trouble finding a wand, though. Don't think I have ever seen someone having to try so many wands before. But he got a fine one, in the end, even Ollivander said so. Quite a powerful one, indeed!"

"Yes, yes... Mr Ollivander owled me already about this... yes, curious, both the wand and the control Harry already has over his magic, yes... I think we will be in for some surprises..."

He didn't know how right he was.

When Hagrid walked back to his hut, he hummed contently and thought about Harry. He had been quite eager to be the one who would visit the boy, and although he normally didn't have anything to do with introducing muggles-borns to the wizarding world and do all the shopping and explaining, Harry Potter was a special case. He wasn't a muggle-born, after all, and he already knew about magic and stuff, so there hadn't been the need for someone more knowledgeable to go see the boy. And furthermore, you couldn't trust just everyone with accompanying the boy-who-lived, he had to be protected! He was proud to say that Dumbledore trusted him enough to do so!

The teachers had mostly been relieved that Hagrid would be the one to deal with Harry Potter, since they had to meet all the other muggle-borns and their parents. It usually took quite some time, many parents weren't so sure about the whole magic-business - quite understandable, of course - and some needed a little bit..., ehm, encouragement to let their child attend Hogwarts. No, he didn't think he would do a very good job introducing complete strangers to the new world - he WAS rather large and wild-looking - but Harry Potter was a different matter! Though he thought he had seen a hint of jealousy in Professor McGonagall's eyes when Dumbledore had told her that she needn't worry about Harry - who would, after all, be in her house from September onwards - but that Hagrid would take care of the matter.

After they had left Ollivanders - in quite a hurry, to be true, since the shop-owner had started to talk about you-know-who and some kind of connection to the wand Harry had chosen (which was all rubbish, as far as Hagrid was concerned, there wasn't ANY connection between the evil wizard and the good and famous Harry Potter! It was simply impossible!) and Hagrid didn't want that the boy would start worrying - they had went back to the Leaky Cauldron. Thankfully, it had been much quieter now, and Tom had been kind enough to seat them in a hidden corner so that they were left in peace.
And while Hagrid wasn't eager to do so, he hadn't missed the confused looks of the boy when the mob had started to scream and going crazy as soon as they had entered the pub for the first time. Someone NEEDED to tell the little boy about his fame and you-know-who. His aunt was a muggle, after all, she could never have told him everything, answering every question the boy might have had. He had been rather shocked to discover, though, that Harry hadn't known his parents had been murdered or that he was famous at all.

"Your Aunt never told you about - well, about anything?" He asked the boy, who had, apparently, overcome some of his shyness and kept talking even after they had left the wand shop.

"Uhm, not really... I'm sorry."

"But you're famous!"

"No."

"Yes! You and your parents... you-know-who, he killed them. And even tried to kill you! This is why you are famous, because you survived and you-know-who vanished!"

"No."

Hagrid wasn't sure he had managed to convince the boy, but in the end, he had stopped saying "no" all the time. So that must mean he had believed him, mustn't it? Hagrid had made sure to tell him everything else he needed to know before going to Hogwarts as well, though he was appalled by the amount of things the boy hadn't known! Perhaps Lily had told her sister less about the wizarding world than they all had expected her to do? Well, he had informed little Harry about all the things he thought would help the boy finding his place and feel at home in this world he belonged to. Quidditch, for example! You couldn't go to Hogwarts without knowing about Quidditch! Oh, and of course he had told him about his parents, especially about his father and all the funny pranks he (and some friends of him) had pulled while being at Hogwarts. Or about the teachers - that Professor Quirell, the Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher was a little bit nervous and twitchy ever since he had travelled around the world. And that he should make sure to pay attention to Professor McGonagall - his future head of house - since she wouldn't put up with any nonsense.

Harry had asked what houses the teachers were head to, and this has resulted in Hagrid questioning whether Harry's Aunt had withhold information purposefully, since she simply must have known about Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, there was no way Lily wouldn't have talked about them while staying at home! But this couldn't be, could it? Why should she have done such a thing?

Well, he had explained everything about the for Houses of Hogwarts - though he had managed not to tell the boy about the actual sorting! -, that they were kind of your family while being in school, that students of one house shared dormitories and common rooms and had classes together and that each house valued different character traits and talents. Oh, he had told Harry not to worry too much about the houses, since it was clear that he would end up being a Gryffindor, but the boy had seemed to be interested in the whole house-business and so he had made sure he knew everything Hagrid himself knew about it.

"Well, Ravenclaw is the house all the smart kids go. Are all really eager to learn, even have their own library in the common room! Yo' have to be really intelligent and stuff for being a Ravenclaw. Professor Flitwick - he teaches charms - is their head of house. Hm, then there is Slytherin, they are kind of creepy, if you ask me. Wasn't a bad wizard who weren't in Slytherin, you know... many who turned out being followers of you-know-who were there as well... no, just make sure to stay as far away from them as possible, ' am not so sure they wouldn't hurt you... no, no, bad people, there, bad people... Even their common room is located in the dungeons. Very cunning an' all, can't really trust them not to plot something against you. Ah, well, I shouldn't tell you this - there are many prejudices, you know - but, ah, can't leave you on your own devices... you have to know what to expect... Professor Snape is their head of house. Quite strict and all, but Professor Dumbledore is trusting him, so he must be all right, I suppose. Teaches potions, Professor Snape. Well, but you don't have to worry about Slytherin, being the boy-who-lived an' all. No, no, the sor- eh, well, no one would ever place you there.
Hm, then there is, of course, Gryffindor. It's the opposite of Slytherin, you can say. Very brave and honest and kind-hearted and loyal, the Gryffindors, yeah. Dumbledore himself was there! Always fight the evil wizards, Gryffindors, very good people, indeed... Professor McGonnagal is their head of house, she teaches transfiguration. Really difficult subject, transfiguration, were never really good in it myself... but, well, this just proves that not all smart people end up in Ravenclaw. Your parents were Gryffindors, of course. They would be really proud if they could see you now... ready to go to Hogwarts an' all, a brave an' good young man, just like your father..." Hagrid broke of, blew his nose and tried to gather himself. Poor Lily, poor James...
"Well, and finally there is Hufflepuff. They say all the kids who don't fit in any of the other houses go there... but well, they are very friendly and loyal and always look out for each other, you know. ' suppose they are all right, Hufflepuffs, yeah... very kind-hearted, you won't find a Hufflepuff starting a fight. Hm, Professor Sprout is Hufflepuff's head of house, teaches herbology. Quite like her, always very friendly, have met her a lot, being the grounds-keeper and she staying in her greenhouses all day."

Seeing that Harry looked somewhat terrified, he had broken off. Why would the boy be terrified about the school houses? Or perhaps it was just that everything was new to him and he had trouble remember everything? "Don't worry, Harry, most children don't know much about these things before they come to Hogwarts for the first time. You won't have problems, everything will be new ans exciting for all of your classmates, too!"

This didn't seem to help much, though, and after a few more minutes of reassuring the boy Hagrid had decided that Harry was overwrought and that it would be better to bring him back to his relatives. After all, they had finished their shopping, he had answered the boy's questions - so far he actually had any -, had made sure he knew that he was famous and stuff... there wasn't anything else Dumbledore had wanted him to do, was there? He had even managed to retrieve the stone just as he was told to do! Dumbledore would be really pleased...

The train-ride back to Little Whinging had gone smoothly, although he almost forgot that he was supposed to bring the boy to Magnolia Crescent instead of Number 4 Privet Drive. It was only when Harry stopped walking and, after an inquiring look from Hagrid, had told him that this was Magnolia Crescent that he remembered the odd request. He was rather impressed by Harry's ability to remember apparently everything, though. He would surely be a really good student! After hugging the boy (through which Harry had remained strangely limp) and saying goodbye, he had watched the little tyke walking back to his family.

The last month Harry spend with the Dursley's was... strange.

When he arrived back at Number 4, his Aunt informed him that from now on he would sleep in Dudley's second bedroom. Harry didn't want to, though. He couldn't sleep in a bed because he was constantly nervous about someone coming in and tying him up again. He knew it wasn't likely that his Aunt or Uncle would tie him up - after all, every time this had happened he had been in hospital - but he couldn't help being worried. However, during the night, when he had tried to creep back to his cupboard, he had discovered that it was locked. He had decided to sleep in the corner between the almost-broken wardrobe and the wall in Dudley's second bedroom then. It wasn't his cupboard, but it was much better than the bed!
The next day his Aunt had told him that all the things he had bought for school had to stay in the cupboard, and that he would have to put up with the room instead. Harry had been more worried that, apparently, the trip to London with the gigantic man and that weird street and all the strange people and things had been real, than about the room, though he didn't try to argue with his Aunt (which he wouldn't have done anyway, he supposed, after having seen the sour look on her face).

After a few day of worrying, he had asked Aunt Petunia whether he really needed to go to that school. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to go to school, but more that he wanted to make sure he had not imagined the whole incident with the giant. He had considered his question carefully, he was well aware that he was likely to end up in hospital again if his Aunt thought he suffered from delusions, but finally he couldn't bear the uncertainty any more. All other attempts to find out whether or not it was real - trying to sneak into the cupboard, overhearing his Aunt and Uncle talking when they thought they were alone - had proved futile.

His Aunt had just snapped at him that of course he would go and whether he thought she would put up with him longer than necessary. Well. Apparently he would go... somewhere. But he didn't dare to ask more questions. Asking questions wasn't something his relatives approved of anyway, and asking questions about weird things? No, this wouldn't do any good, Harry thought.

The thing that bothered him the most, though, was the owl.

Aunt Petunia had said that it had to stay in the room he slept in, even so Harry was rather afraid of it. At first, he hadn't been sure whether the owl even was real. All he knew was that somehow he had had this big, white bird when he had arrived back at Privet Drive, in the evening of the day he had spend with this Hagrid. However, he had had a big suitcase, too, and the suitcase had been gone in the morning. His Aunt said it was in the cupboard, but he couldn't really know whether this was true, since it was locked and Aunt Petunia refused to open it. So she might be wrong about it, perhaps she had hallucinations, too? Or she might be lying.

But the owl had stayed. It was in a cage, so Harry supposed it wouldn't hurt him (at least not without being threatened), but he was wary to sleep in the same room as this bird did. It kept looking at him strangely (well, Harry thought it was strange, but he didn't know very much about owls, so it might even be normal for owls looking the way this did), and tended to hoot and rustle with its feathers every time Harry entered the room.

Aunt Petunia had told him to put a bowl of water in the cage and to feed it with things that looked like big biscuits, and even so he was rather reluctant, he did as he was told. He couldn't let the bird go hungry, could he? It might try to break out of the cage if it didn't get food and water, and Harry was afraid that it might harm (or kill) him if he didn't treat it well. After all, this was what people did if you didn't behave and did as you were told, so why should a bird be any different?

After a few days, though, he had started to get accustomed to the other creature that inhabited Dudley's second bedroom. He kept looking at it, and the owl looked back. Sometimes, he spoke to it, too (though it didn't answer him, for what the boy was rather grateful). He thought it was somehow nice to speak to someone who didn't ask difficult questions, who (probably) wouldn't lock you up if you said something wrong. The owl just kept staring at him and hooted sometimes.

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt him, even if he let it out of the cage?

One evening, six days after his trip to London, Harry ventured out of his usual corner towards the cage with owl. When it didn't become angry, Harry seated himself on the floor next to the cage.

"Hooooooooot"

"Hello"

"My name is Harry. What's yours?"

"Hoooooooot"

Hm. Perhaps it couldn't speak? Think about it, animals couldn't speak. He knew this for sure, he had read many books about animals. So if this was a normal animal, it would not be able to speak. But this meant... this meant he didn't imagine this bird, did it? Or... well, it might be a very mean creature - hallucination - which just pretended being a real bird, and would attack as soon as he felt save... how could he possibly know?

Bravely, Harry reached forward and put the tip of his index finger between the bars. The owl bend towards it. Harry breathed in sharply when the beak came nearer and nearer. Just when he was about to withdraw his finger, the owl gave it a very gentle bite.

Startled, Harry pulled back his hand. Only to stretch it out again when he became aware that the animal hadn't actually hurt him. The next time the bird seemed to be even more careful and just nibbled on the boy's outstretched finger.

And Harry let it.

It even felt funny, he noticed. Somehow, as if the owl wanted to say "I'm your friend. I like you and I won't hurt you."

Could owls be friends?

When Harry had to visit Dr Green again, Petunia accompanied him. The boy thought this strange, since his Aunt normally stayed at home these days, only coming with him if Dr Green had asked her to do so. Perhaps it had something to do with all the weird things that had happened during the last week?

"Ah, hello Harry, and hello Mrs Dursley, what a pleasure to meet you!" The doctor didn't seem surprise to see Aunt Petunia. So perhaps she had phoned him? Oh oh, he just hoped he wasn't in trouble... perhaps his Aunt had heart him talking to the owl?

"Dr Green... yes, well...ehm..."

"You told me you had made a decision regarding Harry you wanted to discuss with me?"

"Eh, yes... we - my husband and I - have decided to send him - Harry - to a... a boarding school that is specialized in dealing with children like Harry. Yes. We thought it would be good for the boy, being amongst his own ki - eh, amongst children who suffer under similar problems like he does."

"Ah, well, yes... as I have told you many times before, quite understandable, quite understandable... so, Harry, what do you think about it?"

The boy stayed silent and kept looking at his aunt.

"Harry? What do you think about going somewhere where you'll meet many other kids who are similar to you?"

"It's ok..." Harry answered, unsure about what was the right thing to say.

"Eh, yes, we have discussed this with the boy, and he has agreed. He has already met one of the people working there, and he rather liked him. Yes, he has met Mr... ehm, Mr Hagid last week, they spoke about everything and Mr Hagid made sure it would be the right facility for Harry. When he left, he mentioned that he thought it could improve his conditions dramatically if he stayed with them... yes, and I've heard great things about this, ehm, home... or boarding school, since the children receive some kind of special... training while staying there..."

"Ah, very good, yes, very good... I have started to worry that Harry would never be able to attend school again, but if this facility offers a program for children with mental illnesses, he would actually have a change to succeed, I think... Eh, do you have any files or documents regarding this institution? Only to make sure it is really the right thing for the boy? I mean," Dr Green interrupted himself, "I trust you to make the right decisions regarding Harry! After all, it has been you who have lived with the boy for so many years now! I only would like to know where one of my oldest patient is going to stay for the next few years."

"Yes of course, they have send me some records- just a moment...", Petunia reached for her handbag, rummaged though it and finally produced some sheets of thick, yellowish paper. "Here you are." And slightly nervous, she handed them over to the doctor.

When Petunia Dursley had pulled the papers from her bag, Dr Green had looked quizzically at the documents - what WAS this? - , but as soon as he had taken them his gaze first became rigid, before, after two or three seconds, his eyes slid out of focus completely, only to return to their normal state (well, almost normal - they might be a bit less focused) a few moments later.

He read avidly. Or at least he appeared to do so, though Petunia knew that he couldn't actually read anything since the sheets were blank. When the so-called records had arrived a few days prior (through the normal post, thankfully), she had at first thought that these freaks were trying to make fun of her. Blank sheets of parchment, honestly! But then she had noticed the note which said that the sheets were charmed and that everyone who required an explanation about the witch or wizards disappearance would be able to read exactly what they needed to know as soon as they touched the parchment. Petunia had though this rather practical, apparently these freaks were used to dealing with normal people (it seemed to be something every normal family got sent, since their wasn't a personal salutation or anything else regarding Harry's special situation). She had, however, been worried whether or not this would actually work with Dr Green, since he wasn't a teacher or an official from the local education authority.

Her worries had been completely unnecessary. Dr Green seemed to be satisfied with whatever the papers said and asked whether he could copy them for Harry's files. Petunia wasn't sure if copied pages would actually show anything - or what it would be, since how could it be possible for a photocopier to copy some kind of "charm", whatever this was? -, but she supposed that it must be all right (and she couldn't really deny Dr Green his request since it would be suspicious), after all, the freaks knew that the authorities would do that, didn't they?
It seemed to have worked, though, because when Dr Green returned he just handed the sheets of parchment back to Petunia without mentioning anything odd.

"So, Harry, are you looking forward to going to this institution? I'm sure it will be great fun, you'll meet lots of other children to play and talk and have fun with!"

"Yeah... but I'm away then. I don't know... what if I don't like it there?"

"Ah, it's completely normal to be a bit nervous about moving to a place that you don't know, but you will get accustomed to everything in no time! And there will be lots of adults to help you, too, and if you get homesick, you can just phone your Aunt! And if you have any questions or feel uncomfortable with anything, you can just tell them, either the kids or the adult. It will be similar to the ward, I think, only without all the doctors and with less medicine. That's good, isn't it?" Dr Green winked at the boy, being well aware of the fact that Harry didn't like taking his medicine. He could understand the boy, it wasn't fun being under the influence of strong antipsychotics and sedatives all the time, but well, it simply was necessary...

"But what if I don't like the people? What if they are mean and hurt me?"

"They won't do this, Harry! Perhaps you won't like anybody, but there WILL be many people you like, too. Just think about the ward, you don't like all the nurses and doctors the same, but there are still many of whom you are rather fond of, aren't there?"

"Hm, yes... but I won't see you again..." This had bothered Harry the most. While he was quite happy that - apparently - he would never have to stay on the ward in this hospital again, which meant he wouldn't have to worry about being tied up and locked in and tube-feeded and watched while using the toilet any more, he was afraid of loosing Dr Green. It wasn't that he liked everything the doctor did, quite the contrary, but at least he knew what to expect.
But strangers? He would be completely helpless, he didn't know what they expected him to do, how to behave... he didn't know the rules of this new place, and that thought terrified him.

"Harry, of course we will see each other again, you can visit me when you are staying with your family, and you can phone me every time you like, and you can write me letters! I'm looking forward to getting lots of letters from Scotland, you know!"

In mid-August (Vernon was at work and Dudley stayed with some friends as usual), while Harry was talking to his owl again, Aunt Petunia brought some books into Dudley's second bedroom. (Harry refused to call it his room, the cupboard was his room!). Harry thought this strange, since there were already many books lying in the shelves on the walls, but then his Aunt explained to him that he should read the new books "since the other freaks will expect you to know all this".

"You will not talk about anything you read, though, especially not in front of Dudley! And don't you dare to take any of the books with you when you leave this room! I won't have freakish books lying around in my house!"

Harry, grateful that his Aunt hadn't complained about him talking to the owl, just nodded.

After (apparently) careful consideration, Petunia put the books into the corner of the room Harry normally occupied. The boy had built himself some kind of nest there out of the blankets and pillow that had been on the bed. And while Petunia didn't like it that her nephew was doing even more unnormal things (why couldn't he just sleep in the (almost) perfectly good bed like any normal person?!), she had decided that it wouldn't be worth the inevitable argument that would take place if she forbade him to sleep in the corner. He would be gone in less than three weeks anyway, it didn't matter.

"And don't mention it to Vernon!" Petunia hissed, before turning around and leaving the room.

Harry was perplexed. Normally, his Aunt didn't like it if he read, since he would be distracted from doing his chores and tended to ask stupid questions every time he didn't understand something written in the books. It had been particularly bad when he had tried to read a book called "The Hobbit". After being told not to ask questions about freaky things any more (and two spankings provided by Uncle Vernon), he had stopped reading this book.
It was rather strange, though. His Aunt and Uncle had called that book "freaky", and they called Harry a freak. But now they were also calling all this weird stuff that had happened during the last few weeks "freaky". Perhaps those things - the book, Harry, the stuff that had happened - were somehow related?
It couldn't hurt to look at the books, could it? Perhaps they were interesting and he could really use something to keep himself occupied. Since the incident with the letter a few weeks prior, he had considerably less chores to do and had gotten a bit bored.

A few minutes later Harry was stunned. These books... this weren't normal books. They were completely... freakish. Yes. His Aunt was right. Nevertheless, he couldn't help himself to be intrigued.

Magic.

The giant man had talked about magic, too.

But the giant man had only been a hallucination, hadn't he? But then there was the owl (which he rather liked now)... the owl was real. And since the giant had given him the owl, he must have been real, too, mustn't he? This was all so confusing. It made his head hurt and he just wanted to understand. Understand all the weird things that kept happening. Why couldn't everything be just normal? He would rather do more chores than to figure out what all of this was about.

Magic.

The books seemed to be real, though. Perhaps he was misunderstanding something? Or perhaps he had another kind of hallucination, reading words that weren't actually written on the books? But he had never had this kind of hallucination before... only hearing the voice of the demon in his head, and sometimes seeing strange people... Well, he could just read a bit in this books to see whether the was an explanation for everything, couldn't he? And besides, his Aunt had ordered him to read them, so he didn't really have a choice anyway...

He grabbed one of the books. "The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)" it read on the cover. He opened it at random and started to read.
It was fascinating.
Apparently, the author thought that there existed words that had the power to made certain things happen. According to Miranda Goshawk (of whom Harry had never heard before) you had to move your wand (what was a wand?) in a certain pattern, speaking funny-sounding words and then everything you wanted to happen actually happened. Or so it sounded to Harry.
He only stopped reading when Aunt Petunia called him to make supper. Dazed, he left Dudley's second bedroom and almost burned the pork chops his aunt wanted him to made for Vernon and Dudley.

He didn't sleep. Or at least, he didn't sleep until three o'clock in the morning, when Uncle Vernon, who had apparently woken up due to to much beer the previous evening, pounded into the room and yelled what he was thinking, wasting energy and whether he thought he had nothing better to do with his hard-earned money than to pay the electricity company. He took the light bulb, and Harry had no other choice than to sleep.
But he continued reading the next morning, that was after making breakfast for the family and eating some toast and butter himself. His Aunt insisted that he needed to gain weight, which Harry thought funny since Aunt Petunia had never before cared about his eating habits, just made sure that he didn't get anything of Dudley's favourite meals and snacks and that he didn't go days without eating anything. Well, it didn't matter, as long as he could go back to his books as fast as possible.

When he had finished "The Standard Book of Spells" he started "A History of Magic". He got slightly confused - all the names and dates and wars and laws - and in the end decided only to skim-read the parts that didn't seem to be very interesting.

"Hedwig", he exclaimed, the third day after his Aunt had brought all the books. He had been silent for hours, and the owl (who had been asleep) hooted indignantly at being woken up.

"I want to name you Hedwig. Is this all right?" Harry asked, worried that the owl might not like the name he had found in "A History of Magic" and instantly loved.

The owl regarded him doubtfully.

"Hedwig? All right?" Anxiously, the boy waited for some sign of approval or objection.

The owl hooted and looked straight into Harry's eyes.

"Hedwig", he beamed.