Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Professor

31st of July 1989

"It's helpful to always set one end of the equation to zero unless you're dealing with multiplication or division," Harry explained and scribbled a short example on Dudley's homework sheet, before solving it with the method he'd just described. "The moment one part of the equation is zero, all additions and subtractions become much easier. Less to get confused by."

"Thanks, Harry," Dudley said as he scratched his blonde head with a pencil. "You'll come look over it later?" He asked.

"Of course," Harry replied. "The moment I'm done helping Dad in the garage. We'll get this summer's workload out of the way before you know it and then you can go to summer camp with a clear conscience."

Staying long enough to see Dudley start working on the math equations, Harry gave his cousin an encouraging pat on the back and left the boy's room.

Dudley had grown up much differently in this world than he would have in the books Harry had read. He was a polite, naive young boy, who was aware that one needed to work to achieve one's goals. He was top of his class and had even skipped a grade. This was either due to Harry's positive influence or perhaps the lack of a negative influence from not having a Horcrux in the house.

Popping down the stairs Harry joined Vernon in the garage, where the portly man was inspecting the tools they were going to need today.

The man glanced up when he heard approaching steps and when he noticed who they belonged to, he bellowed, "Finally done helping Dudley with maths I see?! Good, let's get to work," he said enthusiastically and gestured to the very beaten up boxy Vauxhall Viva 1963 they'd recently purchased for a few hundred quid. Half of what they'd earned from flipping the last car. It sat in the garage with space to spare due to its small size while their actual family car was exiled outside, into the merciless summer sun.

"Yeah, let's get to work," Harry said as he picked up a power drill and went over to the rusted front chassis of the old vehicle. "This part will definitely need to be sanded down before we relacquer and repaint it, but we'll need the exterior off first anyway so let's just start with something easy," he quipped with a smile before bending down and loosening the first screw.

"Always hated the rusted ones the most to be honest," Vernon said as he came over and held up the chassis with thick arms covered by gloves so it wouldn't fall on Harry as he unscrewed it.

"Well, we needed to invest in a few stocks to save and grow money. It would be a damn shame if Dudley didn't have his pick of schools due to financial reasons, considering his grades," Harry replied as the chassis dropped into his uncle's waiting hands and Harry made his way to the car doors. "And that means…"

"That more of the money made flipping has to go for stocks instead of rebuying the nicer to work with cars, I know," Vernon said and while Harry didn't have the man in his sight of vision he could feel the eye-roll.

"It's a steadier growth prognosis over the year," He muttered defensively.

Non-blood related uncle and nephew continued chatting amicably as they worked in the garage, dismantling the used car they'd bought from a work colleague. Eventually, the aunt in the equation called them in for dinner and that was that. A quintessential Monday when his aunt and uncle were on holiday, however, it was also the 31st of July, the day that Harry turned eleven. A birthday party would take place in the evening. Unless something happened to disturb it.

-/-

The doorbell rang, very rudely, while the Dursleys were eating lunch. The sound caused the clinking of eating utensils on plates to stop and everyone to freeze. Harry stood up from the heavily laden table. "I'll go get it," he said, at which point his aunt's nose flared and she sprang up with the energy more reminiscent of a professional athlete, rather than a sedentary woman in her late thirties.

"No, I will," she said before rushing off to get the door, the yellow of her dress blurring in with the pastel house decorations from how fast she'd walked. The door slammed shut, leaving the visitor, whoever they may be, and his aunt, outside.

"Dudley, do you want to go finish up and practise the guitar for a bit, I think someone just came for Harry's school admission. You were working on that song… about bluebirds, or rainbows or something," Vernon said seriously while looking down at the table with crossed arms, seemingly frustrated.

It was a testament to how tense the atmosphere in the room had gotten ever since the doorbell had been rung that Dudley simply nodded and went up to his room without protest. Usually, the boy would be much too curious to leave when something unusual was happening.

It was right as Dudley left that the screaming started.

"Impressive volume," Harry muttered, Petunia must have been raving mad to shout loudly enough for her voice to carry into the house and thus definitely to the neighbours as well.

Vernon snorted. "The things they did to her sister, your mother. They deserve more than just getting screamed at," he said darkly. Shortly after the door finally opened and a red-faced Petunia came back into the kitchen, followed by an overweight man with a walrus moustache wearing a green suit that clashed horribly with his anxious countenance.

Harry recognized the character turned real person and sighed. He had wondered if he was going to get a visit from a professor, or if he was going to receive a letter only. He had been expecting a professor since he was just a normal orphan in this world, but he hadn't known which one. Technically it would have made sense for it to be either Snape or Professor McGonagall. One was a childhood friend of his mother, even if presumably estranged and the other was her former head of house.

The man standing in the doorway to the kitchen looking at him with a sad gaze was neither of these people, but rather, Horace Slughorn. The potions professor of Hogwarts from back when Voldemort had been a student there. Harry was a bit disquieted at the apparent change in professorship, but considering he was alive, things were never going to be exactly the same anyway.

"Mr. Evans." Slughorn stepped into the dining room, his belly having entered it first. A furious-looking Petunia stood behind him, looking at him with eyes that could probably induce spontaneous heart attacks in small animals. "You look remarkably like your mother. The same red hair and green eyes," he trailed off and then shook his head as if to reawaken from some sort of dream that he'd fallen into. "Sorry, I got lost in some memories. An old man's mind isn't as robust as it used to be. Nevertheless, I am here to deliver the admission letter to Hogwarts Academy for wizards and witches. I assume your family has told you about your magical heritage?"

Harry considered the man, who seemed more bereaved than excited to meet a prospective student and nodded. "Come, sit. I imagine we have some things to discuss," He said and pointed to an arm-chair in the corner of the room. It was with a certain morbid curiosity that Harry then looked Slughorn in his blue eyes, wondering if the man was a Legilimens. It sounded like the sort of magic a Slytherin would appreciate. He broke eye contact before he could find out. "I will be coming to Hogwarts. Considering my tuition is paid for as a British citizen, I just don't see the need to look for other alternatives," Harry prodded, hiding his true purpose. The real reason he was going to Hogwarts was because he had at least a certain amount of foreknowledge about the castle and its inhabitants, theoretically making it safer than any alternatives. Not that he knew how to contact any alternatives, which was the other reason. "However, is the Wizarding World really safe?"

Slughorn sighed and handed Harry the acceptance letter before stiffly walking over to the arm-chair and sinking into it as if burdened by the mere thought of the topic. "The conflict that raged while your mother was going through her schooling is over, for good. You-know-who was defeated eight years ago and the wizarding world has since been as peaceful as any magical population can be," He eventually said.

"How was he defeated?" Harry asked as he stuffed the letter into his pocket, not bothering to read it yet. He already knew its contents.

"A magical anomaly led to his demise in the end. An attempted attack misfired, thus ridding us of the stain that the Dark Lord represented upon our world," Slughorn explained, wearily. Probably not that amused by the idea of sharing such grim topics with what was essentially a child.

"So you weren't even able to solve your own problems, is what you mean," Vernon interjected from the other side of the table. "You had to rely on a freak accident!"

Slughorn perked up at the insinuation a bit angrily, before falling back into his seat. "Well, we don't know what really happened, it might have been something that Alice did before she…" Slughorn trailed off.

"It wasn't one of these terrorists that ruined my sister's life," Petunia said calmly. "It happened in school, under your supervision, if I recall correctly. I don't see a reason why we should send our nephew there considering what happened, tuition or not. What other options are available?" she asked brusquely.

Slughorn shook his head. "No, no, he should go to Hogwarts, it's his birthright! Lily was one of the most brilliant students to ever grace our halls. There is no war going on that can spill over into the school and distract the professorship. We can protect Harry! Not that there is anything to protect him from," he hastily added.

"What are the other school options?" Petunia asked with gritted teeth, clenching a teacup that she brought up to her mouth, but didn't drink from.

"France or America for the most part," Slughorn conceded, making Vernon cringe and drawing a chuckle from Harry.

"From my understanding of wars, they generally don't start overnight. There is an underlying tension, a build-up. If I notice that the Wizarding World is becoming unsafe again, what's to prevent me from simply leaving the country?" Harry asked.

"That's a good idea. Wouldn't want to leave Britain behind but there's war and there's inconvenience," mumbled Vernon.

"Only the first five years of schooling are obligatory. After your O.W.L's you can discontinue your schooling without consequences, no matter how tragic it would be to see you go. You seem awfully bright, just like your mother," Slughorn prompted, once again striking a connection to Lily.

Harry tilted his head at the man, who seemed fairly insistent on him coming to Hogwarts. It might be explained away by the fact that canonically his mother was one of the man's favourite students, but this seemed like something more.

"These things on the list, cauldrons and wands and books. I assume we'll have to go shopping for them somewhere not easily accessible. Which is why I'll need someone to guide me?"

"Diagon Alley. You will be going with me to the bank first to pick up the funds and then we will buy your school supplies together if you have time right now that is," Slughorn said a bit more jovially now that it seemed Harry was opening up to the idea of actually going to Hogwarts.

"The sooner the better. Let's be on our way then," Harry said and stood up. He noted the fidgeting his aunt and uncle were doing and shot them a reassuring smile. "I'll stay safe," he said and left the house with the professor, knowing that it was better to simply pull off the band-aid than to let them think about it too much. They'd told him about his heritage, from his mother's side and had been dreading this day since he'd been old enough to ask why strange things sometimes happened around him.

Not that he'd had much experience with accidental magic.

Except for one particular instance, all the magic that he'd ever done had been completely intentional.