Chapter 017

At this Harry shrugged. "No teacher came to my house."

"No teacher came to your house?" McGonagall parroted the question, though her tone was surprised not deadpanned like Harry's had been. "Mr. Potter, what do you mean no teacher came to your house? Though you are not muggleborn, you are muggle-raised. A teacher should have come to your house with your acceptance letter so they could explain your heritage and help get your school supplies at Diagon Alley."

"I don't know what to tell you, Professor," Harry raised his hands in a helpless gesture. "No teacher came to me; I only got a letter that came in through the mail. Nothing more, nothing less."

McGonagall's lips seemed to, impossibly enough, thin even more than they already had. Her hand twitched up in jerky movements, coming to rest upon her forehead, which she began to rub, as if trying to stem the tide of a coming migraine. "Albus... you foolish man," she muttered under her breath. It was soft, obviously Harry was not meant to hear it, but he heard nonetheless. There was a story there, he could tell, but decided to push onto more important things.

"Professor," he began again. McGonagall snapped out of her stress-filled musings to look at him. "Do you think it would be possible to allow me to enter Diagon Alley now." When he saw her frown at him he quickly continued. "I still need to get my school supplies, after all."

"Mr Potter, I am not sure that is a good idea." Her lips pursed as she looked at him, debating the merits of whatever thoughts were on her mind. "I have already told you the reason we have a teacher go into Diagon Alley with those who are raised in a muggle household. Perhaps it would be best if... I were to accompany you."

Harry tilted his head, considering her offer. It would prove to be most beneficial to have someone along who could show him where to get his supplies and answer his questions. He had many of those, after all. Questions, that is. At the same time, Harry was a very independent person. He did not like relying on others. If there was a question he had, he would find the answer himself. If there was something to be done, he would rather do it himself. He preferred it that way, less room for error.

"I do thank you for the offer," Harry's response was congenial, if a bit halting. "However, I think I would prefer heading on alone." Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to respond, perhaps to refute his words and demand to go with him.

Harry wouldn't give her the opportunity.

"And besides, you said it yourself; the reason you are here is to explain to muggleborn students that they can use magic and help them enter Diagon Alley." He gestured to the list sitting on the table. "That list, it contains the names of those you are supposed to meet with today, yes?"

McGonagall looked reluctant, but gave him a nod. She looked like she was about to say something again, but Harry beat her to it, giving her the smile he'd practiced a thousand times in the mirror, the same smile he gave to all of his teachers.

"I wouldn't want to ruin your schedule just because of a mix up with my letter. And I assure you, unlike most children my age, I am quite capable of handling myself." He tilted his head, lips twitching as he fought to keep his smile from turning into a grimace. "That... shameful display you saw earlier was a one-time thing brought about by surprise." The way he said display was almost like he was swallowing a poison. "It won't happen again."

McGonagall pursed her lips, and Harry could almost see what the woman was thinking. Here he was, a student, muggle-raised and without a teacher, and he was heading into Diagon Alley to pick up his school supplies. As a teacher, one who was quite obviously stern but fair, she probably prided herself on following the rules, and while Harry was not sure leaving a muggle-raised student to find their way through Diagon Alley was against any rules, it probably spat in the face of tradition—and the clearly high moral standard she set for herself. Which was likely just as bad.

At the same time, it was also clear she was in a hurry. She had just spent an hour explaining his apparent fame in the wizarding world to him, an hour which she should have used to meet her first student and begin explaining magic to them and their parents. She was already off carefully-crafted schedule, and that likely rankled her a bit.

Time for a bit of positive reinforcement.

"I assure you, Professor, that I am quite capable." Harry gave her a confident, charming smile. "While I admit that I was raised by muggles, my Aunt did know of my heritage, so I was not completely ignorant of what to expect. I simply had not known that I was so famous. That's all."

McGonagall did not look convinced, but there really was nothing she could do. She grimaced, then said, "very well, Mr. Potter." There was a resignation in her voice. "In that case, I shall open the way to Diagon Alley."

Harry offered the woman another grateful nod and a more genuine smile. "Thank you."

Glad that his newest crises had been averted and he now had some context to put to that night ten years ago, Harry stood up and followed Professor McGonagall to the wall that would grant him entrance to Diagon Alley.

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