Dreams of Candlelight
Harry breathed in the steam floating up from the fine ceramic cup in his hand. The fragrance was warm and floral, relaxing the tension in his shoulders as it curled into his skin.
Harry looked up from his perch on the couch, on the opposite end of his aunt and cousin, putting him closest to their guest. He set the cup down on the matching saucer with a gentle clink.
“Before we get started, I would like to mend your injury.” Mrs. McGonagall gestured with her wand. “May I?”
Having just seen her make fine china tea cups and an entire platter of small cakes appear from thin air, Harry was keen on witnessing more magic. He ignored the way his aunt and cousin huddled as far away from them as possible, and looked at the aged woman who sat in Uncles Vernon’s arm chair. He saw kindness crinkled around her eyes and remembered the stern set of her face when she all but barreled into the house after Aunt Petunia tried to shut the door in her face. He didn’t think many people often said no to this woman and got away with it.
“Er, sure?” Harry replied with a small smile.
“Just a diagnostic charm first then.”
She flicked her wand at him and said a spell, making Aunt Petunia whimper. Harry faintly glowed a soft blue and Mrs. McGonagall’s expression tightened even more as she glared at the spot above his head. Harry looked up to see wispy words and numbers floating over him but was unable to discern the meaning for himself. She turned to his aunt.
“Would you be so kind as to explain how Harry managed to break his arm? And why he has gone without treatment? Surely you have access to a hospital.”
Aunt Petunia made some incoherent noises before Dudley blurted in a high pitched voice, “The freak fell.”
After Dudley’s outburst, Aunt Petunia seemed to gather herself. Harry knew that if Uncle Vernon were here, he’d be purple faced and shouting, but luckily he was at work.
“The boys tend to rough house, you know how children are. They play hard.” She sniffed with narrowed eyes. “He didn’t say anything about a broken arm. I believed it was a sprain. He is a clumsy boy. Prone to getting sick often as well.”
“I see. In my experience, children can be as cruel as an inattentive adult.” Mrs. McGonagall’s replied briskly. She turned her attention back to Harry. “Mr. Potter, may I heal your arm? I’m not a Healer, that would be a ‘doctor’ , but I can mend scrapes in a jiffy. We will have a professional look you over afterwards, of course.”
“No! No more waving that - that thing in this house!” Aunt Petunia cried.
Mrs. McGonagall ignored her and waited for Harry to nod and scoot closer to her chair. “This might hurt a bit or feel odd.” She waved her wand over his arm multiple times, it looked excessive really, then with a muttered spell, jabbed the tip at him.
Harry felt a cool sensation wash over his arm before the bones and muscles knitted together. He blinked in awe and held up his arm to inspect it, moving it painlessly for the first time in days.
“I love magic.” Harry said quietly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, have a cake Mr. Potter, and we’ll get you sorted.”
“Sorted? He’s not going to that freaky school! I’m not paying for it.”
“I assure you that Hogwarts takes magical education very seriously. The professors are very passionate about the subjects they teach.” She sipped her tea. “As for Mr. Potter’s tuition and supplies, it is taken care of. That is, if you want to attend? Unless you would rather further your education here in the muggle world?”
Harry swallowed a bite of cake and cleared his throat. “I’d like to go to Hogwarts.”
“You were accepted to Hogwarts the day you were born.” Mrs. McGonagall smiled. “Your parents would be thrilled. You’ll make a fine wizard.”
“You aren’t going to that school, boy. Do you hear me? If you leave to go to that school, you aren’t to come back here.”
He bit his lip. His heart hammered in his chest. Harry felt both elated and nauseous at the thought but he wanted to do this.
He was magic.
He wanted to be able to make friends. Harry had Draco, but he wanted to know what it was like to have other friendships too.
“Mr. Potter,” he looked up from his plate. “I will help you look into other possibilities if you desire. You have choices, and a difficult path ahead of you, but you aren’t alone.”
Harry thought of his dreams, about Draco, about flying and sharing stories. Every day he hoped that magic was real, and wanted badly for something to happen so the Wizarding world could be real. He wasn’t stuck here. He could leave now if he wanted.
Harry grinned at her. “When do we leave?”