The morning light filtered through the kitchen windows of Number Four, Privet Drive, casting a soft glow over the otherwise dull room. Petunia Dursley moved around the kitchen with mechanical precision, her mind far from the breakfast she was preparing. Harry sat at the kitchen table, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the old wooden surface as he waited. His thoughts were focused, his eyes sharp as he watched his aunt go through the motions of her morning routine.
It had been a long time coming, this conversation. The night before, Harry had pressed his aunt and uncle for information, and now it was time to collect on that promise. Petunia's reluctance to talk about anything related to magic was well-known, but Harry wasn't going to let this opportunity slip by. He needed answers, and he wasn't leaving the kitchen until he got them.
Petunia placed a teapot on the table with a sharp clatter, the sound echoing through the quiet house. She finally turned to face Harry, her expression tense and her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, they stared at each other in silence, the weight of the unspoken words hanging between them.
"I suppose you're expecting me to tell you something," Petunia said at last, her voice clipped and devoid of warmth.
Harry simply nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yes. You promised you'd tell me what you know about my parents and the magical world."
Petunia's eyes flickered with discomfort, but she sighed and pulled out a chair across from Harry, sitting down with a huff. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, as if trying to protect herself from the conversation she was about to have.
"Fine," she muttered. "But don't expect much. I don't know everything—just bits and pieces. And I don't care to know more."
Harry remained silent, waiting for her to continue. He knew that if he pushed too hard, she might clam up entirely.
Petunia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers tapping against her arm as she gathered her thoughts. "Your parents... Lily and that husband of hers..." she began, her voice tinged with a mixture of resentment and something that almost resembled sadness. "They were part of a war. There was some Dark Lord—don't ask me his name, because I don't know. But he was powerful, dangerous. Wanted to take over everything, from what I gather. Wizards fought against him, your parents included. They were... involved in all of that."
She paused, her gaze drifting to the window as if she could escape the conversation by staring out into the garden. "All I know is that there was a war, and it ended. Your parents didn't make it, obviously. And that's it. That's all I know. The war is over now, and the magical world... well, it's still there, I suppose."
Harry absorbed this information, his mind spinning as he tried to piece together the fragments of knowledge Petunia had given him. It wasn't much, but it was more than he had known before. His parents hadn't died in some random accident—they had been involved in something much bigger. A war. A fight against a dark and dangerous figure. It was a lot to take in, but at least now he knew that his parents hadn't been nobodies.
Petunia, sensing his thoughts, quickly moved on to other details she knew, eager to shift away from the uncomfortable topic of the war. "There's a place in London called Diagon Alley," she continued, her voice returning to its usual sharpness. "Wizards go there to buy their supplies. I went there once with Lily when she was getting her school things. There's a pub called The Leaky Cauldron—it's the entrance to Diagon Alley. You'll find everything you need there."
She glanced at Harry, who was listening intently, and then added, "Hogwarts—that's the school for people like you. And there's a Ministry of Magic—like your government, I suppose. I don't know what they do, and I don't care. There's also a wizard prison called Azkaban—Lily mentioned it once. That's all I know about that."
Harry nodded, mentally cataloging each piece of information. Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic, Azkaban—these were places he would need to learn more about. But for now, he focused on the most pressing issue.
"You mentioned the war," Harry said, his voice quiet but insistent. "What happened to my parents? What do you know about them?"
Petunia's face tightened, and for a moment, Harry thought she might refuse to answer. But then she sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the conversation was too much to bear.
"Lily and James," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "They were... well, they were fighting. Against that Dark Lord. I don't know the details—Lily never told me much about it. But they were involved, along with others. They were part of some group—Order of something, I think. I don't know what happened to them after that, but... well, they didn't make it."
She hesitated, then added, "Lily was always different. Always in her own world, even before she got that letter. She was special, I suppose. But that world... it took her away from us. And I... I never understood it. I never understood why she had to be part of that world, why she had to get involved in that war."
Harry felt a pang of empathy as he listened to his aunt's words. For all her harshness, there was a trace of regret in her voice, a sadness that she had lost her sister to a world she couldn't comprehend. But there was also bitterness, a resentment that had festered over the years."
Your parents weren't nobodies, Harry," Petunia said finally, her voice firm. "But they chose that world, and it cost them their lives. That's all I know."
Harry nodded slowly, processing everything she had told him. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now. His parents had fought in a war, and they had been brave enough to stand against a Dark Lord. That knowledge filled him with a sense of pride, but also a deep sadness for the family he had lost.
But just as he was about to stand up and leave the table, Petunia seemed to remember something else. Her expression shifted, as if she was debating whether or not to share this last piece of information. After a moment, she leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.
"There's one more thing," she said, almost reluctantly. "I saw Lily do something once. It was near the end, not long before... well, before everything happened. She had her wand with her, and we were outside—on the street. She raised her wand to the sky, made a small circle with it, and then... this bus appeared. A big, red double-decker bus, like the ones you see in London. But it was different. It moved so fast, and it... well, it was magical, that much was clear."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "A bus? What was it for?"
Petunia shrugged, her expression unreadable. "I don't know exactly. But Lily got on it, and it whisked her away in no time at all. She called it... what was it... the Knight Bus, I think. She never explained it to me, and I never asked. But I suppose if you ever find yourself in need of transportation, that's something you might try."
Harry nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. The Knight Bus—another piece of the puzzle. He filed the information away, knowing it could come in handy in the future.
"Thank you, Aunt Petunia," Harry said quietly, his tone sincere.
Petunia gave a curt nod, clearly relieved that the conversation was over. "That's all I know," she muttered before turning back to her chores.
Harry didn't waste any time. He stood up from the table, the chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. Without another word, he left the kitchen and headed for the front door. He needed to get away, to process everything he had just learned.
Outside, the morning air was crisp and fresh, a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside the Dursley household. Harry took a deep breath, his mind racing as he walked down the street. He knew where he needed to go—Runestone Castle. He needed to share what he had learned with Reeny, and he needed to figure out what his next steps would be.
As he walked, Harry couldn't help but replay the conversation in his mind. His parents had been part of something important, something that had cost them their lives. And now, he was the last remaining link to that world—a world he had been kept from for so long.
When he reached the familiar twisted oak tree, Harry felt a sense of anticipation. He touched the secret knot, revealing the hidden path that led to the ancient stone fortress. It wasn't long before he found himself standing before the castle's towering doors, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
Reeny was waiting for him inside, her expression curious as she watched him approach. "Well, well," she said with a mischievous grin. "What brings you back so soon, young Harry? Did you manage to get anything useful out of those dreadful relatives of yours"
Harry sat across from Reeny, the ghostly house-elf who had become his closest confidant since discovering Runestone Castle. The dim light from the torches lining the walls of the ancient stone fortress flickered, casting dancing shadows across the room. Reeny's glowing form was a stark contrast to the cold, solid walls of the castle, and her eyes shone with a keen intelligence that Harry had come to respect.
He had just finished recounting everything his Aunt Petunia had told him that morning. The war, his parents' involvement, the Dark Lord—every detail was shared with Reeny, who listened intently, her expression a mixture of admiration and sorrow.
"Your parents were brave souls, Harry," Reeny said softly, her voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber. "To stand against the Dark Lord... it is no small feat. I always lamented that Master Eldritch was not alive during those dark times. He would have fought alongside your parents, I have no doubt. He was a man of great courage and conviction, always ready to stand against the darkness that threatened the world."
Harry nodded, absorbing her words. It was strange to think that his parents had been involved in such a monumental struggle. He had always known there was something special about them—something that set them apart from ordinary people—but hearing it from Reeny made it all the more real.
"Do you think I'll ever have to fight against something like that?" Harry asked quietly, his eyes meeting Reeny's glowing gaze.
Reeny smiled gently, her translucent form flickering slightly. "I believe, Harry, that the darkness has not left this world entirely. And those who are destined for greatness often find themselves called to face it, whether they wish to or not. You are the son of warriors, and I see in you the same strength and determination that they must have had. One day, you may be called upon to fight against the darkness, just as they did."
Harry felt a mixture of fear and resolve at her words. The idea of facing the kind of evil his parents had fought against was daunting, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility. If the darkness still lingered, then perhaps it was his duty to stand against it.
But for now, there were more immediate concerns to address.
"Reeny," Harry began, shifting the conversation back to the practical matters at hand, "Aunt Petunia mentioned something called the Knight Bus. She said it's a magical bus that wizards can use for transportation. It might be useful for getting to Diagon Alley without being noticed."
Reeny tilted her head, her expression curious. "A bus, you say? I must admit, Harry, I'm not familiar with such a contraption. When I was alive, we had carriages and horses, but no such thing as a 'bus.' Could you explain it to me?"
Harry smiled, realizing that Reeny's knowledge of the modern world was limited. He took a moment to explain what a bus was—a large vehicle that carried people from one place to another, usually in a city. He described the Knight Bus as best as he could, based on the little information Aunt Petunia had given him.
"It sounds like it could be a convenient way to travel," Reeny mused, once Harry had finished his explanation. "If this Knight Bus can take you to Diagon Alley quickly and without drawing too much attention, then it might be the best option. But we must be cautious, Harry. If there was indeed a civil war not long ago, as your aunt mentioned, and your parents were involved, then there could still be enemies out there—people who would recognize you and mean you harm.
"Harry nodded, the weight of her words sinking in. "That's what I was thinking too. If there are people who fought against my parents, they might still be around. And if they recognize me... well, I'm not exactly prepared to defend myself yet.
"Reeny's eyes gleamed with determination. "Then we must take precautions. You cannot go to Diagon Alley as Harry Potter. Too many people may know your name, and it would draw unnecessary attention. You need a new identity, at least for now."
Harry considered her suggestion. It made sense. If he wanted to explore the magical world safely, he needed to keep a low profile. Changing his name, and perhaps even his appearance, would give him the anonymity he needed.
"What name should I use?" Harry asked, looking to Reeny for guidance.
Reeny tapped her chin thoughtfully, her ghostly fingers hovering near her translucent lips. "How about Harry Gosley? It's simple, unassuming, and doesn't carry the weight of your true name. As for your appearance, we can make a few subtle changes—nothing too drastic, just enough to make you look different.
"Harry agreed with her plan. "Harry Gosley it is, then. And you're right about the appearance. I don't want to stand out."
Reeny nodded approvingly. "Good. We'll darken your hair slightly, perhaps change the shape of your glasses a bit. You'll still look like yourself, but just different enough that no one will suspect you're Harry Potter."
They spent the next hour discussing the finer details of Harry's disguise. Reeny, despite being a ghost, had an uncanny understanding of how to create a convincing new identity. She suggested minor alterations to Harry's posture and mannerisms, as well as the subtle changes to his appearance using magic.
Once they had settled on the details, the conversation turned to the practical matter of money. Harry knew that he would need galleons to buy supplies in Diagon Alley, but he had no idea how much things would cost.
"Reeny," Harry said, "You mentioned before that the galleons in the castle treasury should be enough to buy what I need. But I'm not sure how much to take. Aunt Petunia's stories about the magical world are all I have to go on, and she didn't exactly give me a lot of details.
"Reeny nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Times have changed, Harry. When I was alive, a single gold galleon could buy you enough supplies to last a month. But the world has likely moved on since then. Prices may have risen, and the value of gold may have shifted. I suggest you take a modest amount—enough to cover your immediate needs, but not so much that you draw attention to yourself.
"Harry considered this. He didn't want to carry too much money, but he also didn't want to find himself short on funds. After some discussion, they settled on a plan. Harry would take 40 galleons with him in a small pouch—enough to buy basic supplies and perhaps a few extras. If he found that prices were higher than expected, he could always return to Runestone Castle to retrieve more.
"Be mindful of your spending, Harry," Reeny advised. "And remember, if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. The magical world is full of wonders, but it also has its share of tricksters and charlatans."
Harry nodded, grateful for her advice. He tucked the pouch of galleons into his cloak, feeling the weight of the coins against his side. It was a strange sensation—carrying money that had once belonged to people long gone, from a time he could barely imagine. But it was also empowering, a reminder that he was part of something much larger than himself.
"One more thing," Harry said, as they prepared to finalize their plans. "Aunt Petunia mentioned that I could find everything I need in Diagon Alley. But she also said something about the Leaky Cauldron—it's a pub that leads to Diagon Alley. I'm not sure how it works, but I guess I'll figure it out when I get there."
Reeny nodded, her eyes gleaming with approval. "You'll do just fine, Harry. Trust your instincts, and be cautious. The magical world may be unfamiliar to you, but you have a sharp mind and a brave heart. And remember, you're not alone. I'll be here, waiting for you to return. If you encounter any difficulties, you can always come back to the castle for advice or assistance.
"Harry smiled, feeling a surge of gratitude toward the ghostly house-elf. Reeny had been a steadfast companion, guiding him through the mysteries of Runestone Castle and helping him prepare for the challenges ahead. He knew that he could rely on her wisdom and experience, even if she couldn't physically accompany him on his journey.
"Thank you, Reeny," Harry said sincerely. "I'll be careful, and I'll make sure to return with everything we need."
With their plan in place, Harry spent the rest of the day preparing for his trip to Diagon Alley. He practiced his new identity—introducing himself as Harry Goseley, a young wizard eager to explore the magical world. He tried out different hairstyles and even experimented with altering his voice slightly, all under Reeny's watchful eye
The morning light seeped into the grand hall of Runestone Castle, casting elongated shadows on the cold stone floor. Harry stood by the heavy wooden doors, his breath visible in the crisp air. Reeny, the ever-watchful ghost of the castle, hovered beside him, her translucent form shimmering in the early sunlight.
"Today's the day, Harry," Reeny said softly, her voice a calm whisper that echoed faintly through the empty halls. "Everything we've prepared for leads to this."
Harry nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. The plan was simple, but the execution felt daunting. He was about to step into the wizarding world for the first time, and he had to be ready for anything.
"Remember, you're Harry Gosley now," Reeny continued, floating closer as if trying to reassure him with her presence. "A young wizard on his first trip to Diagon Alley. Blend in, be confident, and trust your instincts. And if anything feels wrong, leave immediately."
Harry took a deep breath, repeating the name in his head. Harry Gosley. It felt strange, almost like he was pretending to be someone else, but he knew it was necessary. With his hair slightly longer, his glasses altered by a simple charm, and his clothes plain but practical, he looked the part.
The small pouch of galleons jingled softly as he tied it securely to his belt. Forty galleons—it seemed like a lot of money, but Harry wasn't entirely sure it would be enough in this new world he was about to enter. The last time Reeny had interacted with the world of the living, it was a different era. But they both hoped it would suffice, at least for his initial needs.
"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked, glancing at Reeny.
The ghost smiled gently. "You'll do just fine. Remember, the Knight Bus will take you wherever you need to go. It may be an unusual experience, but it's safe, and it will get you to Diagon Alley quickly.
"With one last glance at the imposing stone castle that had become his refuge, Harry stepped out into the morning light. The cool air felt refreshing on his skin, and the slight breeze ruffled his already messy hair. He followed the winding path down the hill, his shoes crunching on the gravel, until he reached the main road.
There, in the silence of the early morning, he waited. Aunt Petunia's offhand remark about the Knight Bus had always seemed strange to him, but now it made sense. As long as he was standing by a deserted road, all he had to do was stick out his wand arm, and the bus would appear.
Harry took a deep breath, gripping his wand tightly in his right hand. He hesitated for a moment, feeling a wave of nerves wash over him. What if the bus didn't come? What if this was all a mistake?
But then, with a loud bang that made Harry jump, the Knight Bus materialized out of thin air right in front of him. It was a massive purple triple-decker bus, towering above him with bright gold lettering that read: The Knight Bus.
The doors swung open with a hiss, and a young man in a conductor's uniform stepped out. He looked no older than eighteen, with wide eyes and a slightly bemused expression.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I'll be your conductor this morning. Where are you headed?" Stan asked, his voice tinged with a Cockney accent.
"Diagon Alley," Harry said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Diagon Alley, eh? No problem. That'll be eleven sickles for a ride, and if you want hot chocolate, that'll be thirteen."
Harry fumbled with his pouch, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulled out the galleons. "Uh, how many sickles is that in galleons?"
Stan grinned. "Seventeen sickles to a galleon, mate. Here, I'll sort it for you."
He expertly counted out the coins, handing Harry back his change. "Right then, hop on board."
Harry stepped up into the bus, and immediately, the surreal nature of the Knight Bus hit him. The interior was unlike any bus he had ever seen—rows of brass bedsteads filled the space, each one covered in thick, burgundy blankets. The windows were draped with heavy curtains, and a chandelier swung precariously from the ceiling.
As Harry found an empty bed and sat down, the bus lurched forward with a jolt that sent him flying backward onto the mattress. He quickly grabbed hold of the bedpost to steady himself, his heart racing as the bus hurtled through the streets at breakneck speed. Buildings, lampposts, and even trees seemed to jump out of the way as the Knight Bus barreled down the narrow roads.
"Blimey, first time on the Knight Bus, is it?" Stan called out, noticing Harry's wide-eyed expression.
"Yeah," Harry admitted, clutching the bedpost for dear life. "It's... a bit different from what I expected."
Stan chuckled. "Aye, it takes some getting used to. But don't worry, you're in good hands. We'll be at Diagon Alley in no time."
As the bus careened around a sharp corner, Harry glanced around at the other passengers. There weren't many—just a couple of witches and wizards who seemed too absorbed in their own thoughts to notice the chaotic ride. One older witch, her hair a mess of silver curls, was knitting something that looked suspiciously like a sock for a three-legged creature.
Harry couldn't help but wonder what their stories were. Did they have families? Were they on their way to some important magical event? Or were they, like him, just trying to find their way in a world that was both familiar and completely foreign?
After a few minutes of silence, the older witch looked up from her knitting and gave Harry a warm smile. "First time in London, dear?"
"Uh, yeah," Harry replied, not entirely sure if he should engage in conversation or keep to himself."
Don't you worry, dear. Diagon Alley's a lovely place. Just keep your wits about you, and you'll be fine," she said kindly before returning to her knitting.
Harry nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. It was reassuring to hear that someone else believed he would be fine, even if he still had his doubts.
The ride continued, with the Knight Bus weaving in and out of streets so fast that Harry found it impossible to keep track of where they were. At one point, they even squeezed between two double-decker buses, narrowly avoiding a collision.
Despite the wild ride, Harry felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. He was on his way to Diagon Alley, the place where everything would begin. He would finally be able to step into the world his parents had fought to protect. A world that, until now, had only existed in the stories Reeny had told him.
Stan's voice broke through his thoughts. "Next stop, Diagon Alley!"
The bus screeched to a halt, and Harry was once again thrown forward, barely catching himself before he tumbled off the bed. He quickly gathered his things, his heart pounding in anticipation.
As he stepped off the bus, Stan gave him a friendly nod. "Good luck, mate. You'll do just fine."
"Thanks," Harry said, offering a small smile before turning to face the street.
The Knight Bus disappeared with a loud bang, leaving Harry standing alone in front of an old, weathered building with a small, crooked sign hanging above the door. The sign read: The Leaky Cauldron.
This was it. The gateway to the magical world.
Taking a deep breath, Harry adjusted his pouch of galleons, straightened his shoulders, and took his first step forward. The door to the Leaky Cauldron creaked open, and Harry paused for just a moment, feeling the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders.
But he was ready.
He had to one final glance at the sign, Harry pushed open the door and stepped inside.