Daddy’s Boy

Hogwarts Letters

Harry was looking forward to his eleventh birthday, when he would be invited to Hogwarts, yet this didn't mean he neglected his studies at the regular school. It was practically impossible when Hermione was his best friend. Besides, he really liked learning new things. They even had a friendly competition of a kind, about who would get better grades. It was usually a tie.

They both learned a lot anyhow. Ever since discovering she was magical, Hermione wanted to study everything she could find concerning magic or the magical world. She spent a lot of time studying practically every book the Potters had at home, along with Harry. They soon learned that most wizards and witches used wands to help focus their magic, yet wands were not given to children. This didn't bother them too much. "As magic is basically just the manifestation of our intent, if we focus our intent well enough, we may not need wands at all," Hermione explained.

"But where will we focus our intent?" Harry asked.

Hermione lifted her hand, as if pointing at an object. "The tip of this finger seems as good a place as the tip of a wand, and we always have it handy."

"What shall we try, then?" he grinned at her.

"Lumos!" they both said, making the tips of their pointing fingers light up brightly.

"Just like E.T." Hermione grinned.

"But much more fun!"

Hogwarts letters were sent at the beginning of July. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall decided it would make life easier for first year students if they all got their letters early in the summer vacation, regardless of their exact birthday. Once she made sure all the letters were on their way, she started visiting muggle-born and muggle-raised first-years. There was a lot of explanation to do and she was already experienced with that.

Her first destination was one she had wanted to visit for the past ten years; only strict instructions from the headmaster had stopped her. She was now extremely anxious to meet Harry Potter again. She knocked on the door at Privet Drive and heard a male voice order, "Boy, check who's at the door!"

The door opened a moment later. A tall, muscular boy, with dark brown hair and blue eyes looked at her questioningly. She could also see a faded scar on his forehead, only it was a straight line and not at the right place. She remembered the baby's scar to be above his left eye, while this one was on the right.

"Does Harry Potter live here?" she asked, somewhat confused.

"No, Ma'am. There's nobody by that name in this house," the boy answered.

"And what's your name?" she asked.

"I'm Henry Dursley," the boy answered proudly.

Another boy approached. He had blond hair and was wider and more muscular, although not taller. "I'm Dudley," he presented himself. "Need any help?"

Minerva was extremely confused now. Albus had told her that the boy had not had a good life and his family abhorred him due to him being magical. The boy in front of her didn't fit any of these. She couldn't sense any magic in him either. This was the right address but certainly not the right boy.

"Umm... I may have got the wrong address..." she mumbled an apology. She retreated quickly into Mrs. Figg's house and Floo'ed to Hogwarts. In her haste, she didn't hear the snickers at the Dursley residence, nor the phone conversation with one Mr. DePoitiers that followed.

Minerva stepped out of the fireplace into the headmaster's office. "Albus! Harry is not with the Dursleys!"

"Now, now, please... I'm sure there's some mistake there. Mrs. Figg has been reporting on him regularly. He seems to be doing better than expected, but he certainly lives with the Dursleys."

"I've been there, Albus! The dark haired boy is not Harry! He doesn't even look remotely like either James or Lily. His eyes are blue, his nicely combed hair is brown, his scar is different and he has NO MAGIC!"

Dumbledore looked worried now. He checked the myriad of instruments on the shelves and frowned. They showed nothing out of place, except one – the magic core detector was firmly against its zero marking.

"Well, Minerva, I'll handle this. You should go on visiting the other students living in muggle houses," he finally said, dismissing her.

The Dursleys were finishing dinner when the doorbell rang. Vernon opened the door. "Who are you?" he spat at the tall old man who stood there. The long beard, crooked nose and colourful robes were enough for him to identify the visitor, as James had given him a full description of the man, but he didn't need to show any recognition nor any respect.

"I'm Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the Hogwarts school. May I come in?"

"I don't know you and I don't want to have anything to do with you," Vernon spat, closing the door.

Albus pushed the button again.

"Oh, well... Come in! I don't need the neighbours seeing you at my door," Vernon said, opening the door and looking annoyed.

Albus walked in and sat on the sofa without being invited. Petunia brought some tea and biscuits and sat on a couch while Vernon took the other couch. The two boys were just peeking in from behind the stairs and Albus ignored them.

Albus seeped some tea before he started to talk, while trying some passive legilimency on the two muggles. Normally, this wasn't a problem, especially since both were expectantly looking at him. He failed, though. Once he entered their minds he only found a vast park with different flowers, lawns, bits of woodland, but nothing like thoughts or memories. This greatly confused him. He would have tried to check the children, but both boys seemed to have lost interest and moved upstairs.

He finally decided to talk. "About ten years ago, on November first, I left a baby bundled in blankets on your doorstep. Can you tell me what happened to him?"

"A baby on our doorstep? I've never seen one. I've only been informed by the police that my sister and her husband had been found dead about a week into November," Petunia said in a harsh tone.

"Then who's the boy who lives with you?"

"Why, we have two sons. After Dudley was born, I was told I couldn't have another child, so we adopted Henry on December, when Dudley was about a year old," Petunia explained as if talking to a stupid child.

"Then where is Harry?" Dumbledore asked, talking mostly to himself.

"Why should I even care? He was your responsibility and you dumped him on a doorstep in a cold night. Quite a way to care for a baby, you know. But he's probably just as weird as his parents, so why should I care?" Petunia sounded harsh and judging, exactly as Dumbledore expected her to be. He tried reading her mind once again, getting the same results.

"Well, I should leave you now. If you hear anything at all about Harry, will you be so kind as to inform me? You may give your letter to Mrs. Figg. She'll know how to contact me."

Both Dursleys nodded solemnly. Vernon showed Albus to the door, muttering "I hope to never see you or your kind again," before slamming the door shut.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, until they heard Mrs. Figg's creaky gate open and shut and then her door slam close. Vernon and Petunia looked at each other and burst laughing.

"He's practically admitted that Mrs. Figg is his spy," Petunia said.

"Let's call James on the phone. He'd love to hear everything about this visit," Vernon suggested, as Petunia followed him to the telephone in the kitchen.

The Grangers had a visit a few days later. Hermione opened the door to a tall, severe looking lady who was dressed extremely out of fashion.

"Miss Granger, I presume," the woman said, "I'm professor McGonagall from Hogwarts and I'm here to explain to you and your parents about the letter you have received."

"Come in, please. We were expecting you," Hermione answered, showing her into the living room where her parents were sitting, along with a thin, black-haired boy who seemed more concerned about the computer game he was playing than about anything else.

Minerva looked at the boy and commented, "It's not wise to let strangers hear what I'm going to tell you."

"Oh, that's alright. He already got his letter as well," Hermione answered.

"I don't remember anybody living in the neighbourhood who'd been invited."

"Well, his letter bore a wrong address, but the owl found him just the same, and he already knows everything," Hermione assured her.

Minerva looked at the boy more attentively and her heart skipped a beat. Could it be? The black unruly hair was familiar, yet...

"May I have a word with you?" she asked the boy.

"Yea..." he groaned, pausing the game and lifting his eyes to her. Minerva was shocked. That unmistakeable emerald green... She had not seen it for almost ten years. Her eyes wandered to his forehead. It was clear of any blemish, unless... Well, she could see some very faint remains of a lightning shaped scar, but only because she knew exactly where to search. It was practically undetectable for most anyone else.

"Miss Granger here mentioned you've also got your letter. May I know your full name please?"

"Oh, I'm Harry Potter. My parents have already told me everything about the letter and about Hogwarts. Dad said you were his favourite teacher." His lopsided grin was exactly like... But that couldn't be! She'd seen James dead and buried... yet...

"Can we visit your home after I finish here?" she asked, barely controlling her excitement.

"We can try. I'm not sure the wards would let you in, though."

Minerva had to swallow hard a few times. She gratefully accepted the cup of tea offered by her hostess. It helped her calm down before starting her explanations. These turned out to be redundant, which was not surprising, considering the girl's friend. Minerva was surprised, though, by the vast knowledge the girl had and by her quick understanding. She seemed like Ravenclaw stuff, yet Minerva would have really liked her to join her house. Harry stayed out of the conversation as much as he could, although it was clear that he was listening just as attentively as his friend.

Harry suggested to call home before taking Minerva there. She could only listen to his side of the conversation. "Liz, there's a Professor McGonagall here, who'd like to come and talk with you and Dad. Do you know if the wards will let her in?... OK, ask him... Thanks. I love you!"

Harry turned to the stern woman. "The wards will be adjusted in a few minutes. Time enough for another game."

He turned back to the computer game. Hermione joined him and Minerva was just astounded at the proficiency both children showed with the game.

A young woman opened the door bearing the name "DePoitiers". "Hi, I'm Eloise Potter, but everybody calls me Liz. Welcome into our home, Mrs. McGonagall. James will join us in a moment."

The older woman followed her in, quite bewildered. She tried to search her memory for the name or the face but came out with nothing. "Have you gone to Hogwarts?" she finally asked.

"No, Madame. I went to Beauxbatons, like all the magical children in France."

"So, you're French?" This was the logical conclusion.

"I was, before marrying James," Liz answered with a smile. Minerva could barely notice the remains of an accent.

"I see you've already met my wife, Professor," she heard James' voice as he came in. She couldn't mistake that voice.

"James! I was sure you were dead, along with Lily." She could see his face turn to a pained expression for a moment.

"Well, I'm quite alive and well, as you can see. It was only a doppelgänger that was killed that night. Now, I believe you came here for Harry."

It took him some time to tell his story. Minerva was so surprised that she failed to notice that he didn't tell her how he got Harry or why he lived as a muggle. She was just overwhelmed with joy at finding her favourite student (and nightmare, on occasions) was still alive and well. Not even finding Harry compared to that. She was also introduced to the four-years old Colette and to baby Charles. When she finally decided to leave, she met Sirius Black at the door, holding hands with a shapely blonde whom she didn't recognize.

Only when she reached Hogwarts she found out that she could tell nobody about that visit or about Harry. It was as if they were protected by a Fidelius charm. 'Well,' she thought fondly, 'James has always been good at charms.'