Harry Potter: Magical Memories

Time wore on; days turned into weeks and before long, the school year was over. Like always, Harry had gotten top marks and several recommendations from his teachers; and like always, Harry kept his progress reports from his relatives. They did not care what he got, and he did not care what they thought. By the time summer holidays had started Dudley had ended up breaking his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and the first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harry had never really liked summer. While he never learned anything that he did not already know in class thanks to constantly reading ahead in school, it at least gave him something to do, even if it was busy-work, and because it was so hot there were no sports during the summer either, which meant football was out as well unless he joined one of those hardcore leagues where all they did was breath, eat and sleep football.

Really, the only thing he had to do during the hot season was sparring with Master Wei and his peers at the dao, and spending time with Lisa. Now he would admit to enjoying both, but it wasn't like he could do both every second of every day. There were quite a few hours in a day, and while most people spent around sixteen of them awake, Harry spent twenty, meaning when everyone else was asleep, he was still up and energized.

At least Dudley and his friends Piers, Dennis, Malcolm and Gordon, who were all as stupid as Dudley himself, no longer played Harry hunting. No longer because the few times Dudley got the courage to try they all got beaten up (It was after Harry had started Martial Arts), and Dudley's parents could do nothing about it, lest Harry use his magic to send them through a wall.

Still it was not all bad; Harry spent whatever time he could at the dao, sparring with many of the students. Being one of the better students in class, Harry would often fight against students several years older than himself, which was a big ego booster for him—until Master Wei brought it back down with another beating. Nothing deflated egos like getting your arse kicked by a 70-year old man, even if he was a master in fifteen different martial arts.

Other than spending time sparring, Harry also spent time at the library, and with Lisa and her mum. Lisa often took him to the mall where they would window shop, before grabbing a small bite to eat at a local cafe. There were a few times they would go to the park as well, but his friend often complained about the heat, so they only did that during the evenings before dinner.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smelting uniform. Dudley had been accepted to Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry had spent that time at Lisa's house watching movies, eating his favorite foods and ended up staying the night.

It was a good thing for Harry too, as that day Dudley had paraded around in his new uniform for his parents, not that it had spared him from that the next day. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobby sticks used for hitting each other while teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life. Just what that training was for Harry didn't know and felt it was a stupid tradition that just stuck around due to the people running the school lacking common sense.

The next morning after everyone had finished eating, they all heard the click of the mail slot and the flop of letters on the doormat.

"Harry," Aunt Petunia started, but Harry was already on the way towards the mail, knowing what she would ask.

Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and—a letter for Harry.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he picked it up and looked it over. He knew what this was. He had been expecting, waiting for it since he was seven and intelligent enough to understand what his memories meant. Even without checking it, he knew what it contained. After all, no one sent him mail. Master Chang didn't send him anything that he could not walk over and pick up himself, and Lisa and her family lived within walking distance. There was no other explanation as to what this could be, especially with the way it was addressed:

Mr. H. Potter

The Smallest Room on the Second Floor

#4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made from yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over in his hand, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. It was the first time the large man had spoken to him in all of a year.

Harry went back into the kitchen, an odd smile on his face as he walked in. Odd, because he almost never smiled around his relatives. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, then he turned to Aunt Petunia.

"It came," he said. It was all he needed to say. Petunia gasped and went pale, Vernon began turning puce and Dudley, as always, looked constipated.

"I-I-I see," Aunt Petunia finally managed to get out. Uncle Vernon just made choking noises.

Harry sat down, feeling jittery from the anticipation, taking a deep breath he opened the letter and read the contents:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Terms begin on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

"We await your owl," Harry read again, out loud this time. He took a moment to make sure he had not missed anything, then looked up at Aunt Petunia and said, "you know where to get school supplies." It was not a question.

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