Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Elementary Calculations


by kcourtkat 36 reviews

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: G - Genres: Drama,Humor - Characters: Harry,Professor McGonagall - Published: 2008-05-09 - Updated: 2008-05-09 - 3195 words

I do not own Harry Potter.

As always, thank you to those who read this story and much love all around for those who review.

In this chapter, we see more than Harry’s point of view. Minerva meets Harry.

Chapter 5: x^2-5x+6

Harry considered the letter in his hands and the owl preening itself on the ledge of his window.Honestly, who used parchment in this day and age.

Apparently, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Makes sense to have a magic school I suppose. An acceptance letter and a list of supplies. I don’t remember applying to this school, I guess my parents must have enrolled me. A little thin for an acceptance letter though. Barely three sentences. Who makes a life changing decision based on this?

The last two years had been a true test of his skills in time management. Juggling school work, his private study, extra curricular activities, and magic had really been something.

He had put a name to his power a year and a half ago when Dudley had mentioned to his parents at dinner that Piers Polkiss’ parents were going to get a magician to perform for his birthday. Petunia and Vernon went nuts. The phrase “there’s no such thing as magic” had gotten thrown around quite a bit, along with a few “freaks” and “unnaturalness” for flavouring. Harry had extrapolated from there.

He had ruefully admitted to himself that it should probably have occurred to him sooner given previous reactions to the word, but really, what logic minded person automatically thinks magic when something strange happens?

Harry, last year, graduated first in his class and aced the common entrance exams. The principal was the one who drove him to London to take the entrance exams for the Xavier Academy. Petunia was actually shocked when the acceptance packet had arrived. It had been quite thick, detailing the school’s academic and sporting accomplishments, containing pictures of the campus, and a booklet of expectations, and rules. Some minor arm twisting had persuaded her to sign all the requisite forms. The fact that she would not have to see him at all for ten and a half months, nor pay for this may have made things easier than they could have been.

As a ten-year-old scholarship student, there had been some ribbing, but that had stopped after the first week: discipline was tightly maintained by the faculty. He had managed to make friends with the three other boys sharing his dorm and had even joined the swim team. If the water sometimes behaved oddly around him, no one commented.

Two years of magical study had brought farther refinement in his skills and the introduction of new ones. He was now able to lift up to thirty pounds easily, more if he poured a significant portion of his power into it. He could also change the shapes of some things. He had changed the rather old fashioned circular lenses of his glasses into a much more stylish and flattering rectangular ones. He had also amused himself by creating a chess set out of pebbles last summer. While he had found that turning a round stone into a horse shaped one was easy, he could not change the shape of any solid cold metals. Melting the metals and then shaping it was possible though.

Another thing he had noticed, was that while he could create a light and heat things with his power, he could not create a spark. He wouldn’t be able to start a fire but he could keep himself warm. Harry had also discovered that by releasing his magic in the air around him, he could create drafts and move the air somewhat. By encapsulating a - relatively - large area (about the size of his room), adding and removing moisture and heating and cooling the air, he could create miniature weather systems. This was time consuming and the more violent the system the more energy it ate.

The most evident of his new abilities was the awareness of the ambient magic that was omnipresent in the surroundings. Some areas had more than others, but it was everywhere. He could feel it in people as well, not a lot but some. Petunia and Dudley seemed to have more than Vernon, not a great deal, but more. No matter how hard he tried he could not see anything, but he could feel the pressure against the magic that carried the imprint of ‘him.’ Harry had taken to modifying the shield he used to regulate the temperature against his skin to do the same with his magic. By thinning or thickening the shield he could extend his awareness farther or limit it to his body.

The reason for this was found in the progress he made in manipulating water. It seemed the more he worked with it, the easier manipulating and sensing it became. With his power open to interacting with the free floating magic, he had started to sense any nearby water source. While this was not so bad when it was just sensing the general moisture in the air and maybe any persons in the room, by last Christmas it had gotten to the point where he could almost see in his mind’s eye, the layout of every pipe in the building. The fact that the human body is more than 70 percent water did not help. He had spent the entire holiday season and a good chunk of the next two months meditating and changing his temperature shield to regulate magical input and output as well.

His first year at the Academy had ended on a high note as he had attained the top spot ranking needed to keep his scholarship. He was pleased that the mid July end of term meant that he skipped Dudley’s yearly gift counting and whatever birthday celebration that he would not be invited to. The weekly twenty five-pound stipend he recieved with his scholarship had mostly been saved, so he also had quite a bit of pocket money this summer.

He had only been back a week though, and Dudley was already getting on his nerves. Apparently he would be starting Smeltings in September and had gotten that ridiculous stick. He had taken to poking Harry with it whenever they were in the same room.

Yesterday, Harry had finally gotten fed up with Dudley’s actions. Due to his sensitivity, he had a rather good grasp of the mammalian anatomy, stimulating Dudley’s bladder had been nothing. Right now, he could feel the fat blob hurry out of his room to get to the washing machine. Petunia was in the kitchen fixing breakfast. Dudley would have to pass her with his pee stained sheets and pajamas to reach the machines in the basement. He was stopped by Petunia. Harry could not hear the words, but Dudley was shifting from foot to foot, evidently unhappy with the delay. Vernon’s bulk moved from the master bedroom to the stairs. Dudley’s heart rate, already high, started to race. He started gesturing and was scurrying past Petunia when Vernon seemed to stop him. More gestures, then Vernon snatched the stained sheets from his hands.

Harry chuckled as Dudley’s shoulders slumped in, presumably, shame.

A sharp series of clacks brought his attention back to the owl and the letter in his hand. Taking a sheet of paper out of his new messenger bag, he penned a reply and addressed it to the Deputy Headmistress. Handing the folded paper to the owl he sat back and decided discretion was the better part of valour.

He’d wait until called before he went down.


Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, looked at the reply she had gotten back from one of the most anticipated students in the history of Hogwarts and pressed her lips together.

Dear Deputy Headmistress,

If you truly wish to tempt students to attend your school, provided this is not a farce, then something more than a ‘you are accepted’ and ‘owl your reply’ is needed.

Harry James Potter

Striding to the Headmaster’s office, she snapped out the password and stomped up the circular staircase.

“Good morning Minerva, would you perchance like some tea?” Albus Dumbledore placed a cup and saucer on the desk.

“No Albus, I would not like some tea. Perhaps you can explain this to me,” she dropped the letter in front of him. “You assured me that Harry would know about his heritage. This does not sound like someone that knows about the wizarding world to me.”

Albus read the letter, twinkle in his eyes dimming slightly, before coming back full force.

“I would have thought that his Aunt would have explained about his magic and Hogwarts to him. Her house was the only safe place where he could enjoy a normal childhood after all. Someone will just have to visit him and explain if this is not the case.” That and he wouldn’t have to deal with the pressure of being the Boy Who Lived. Who knows how arrogant he could have become. Arrogance has ruined a great many a good wizard.

Minerva frowned slightly. She had some paper work she had been going to complete today, and a visit with a muggle-born student tomorrow, but . . .

“I can clear my schedule today. A muggleborn orientation pack will be needed,” she murmured more to herself than to him. “I’ll go deal with this travesty.”

He reached into one of his drawers and took out a small gold key. “You might need this for young Harry’s vault to buy his supplies.”

She took the key and, with one last narrow eyed scowl aimed at the Headmaster, Minerva walked out the door.

I may have to pull an all nighter to finish the paperwork, but for Lily and James’ son. I can stand a little sleep deprivation.


Minerva apparated close to where she remembered the Dursley’s house was. She sniffed at the row of cookie cutter houses. Just as unimaginative as she remembered. Walking to Number 4, she pressed the doorbell. Petunia Dursley, looking just as unpleasant as ever, opened the door.

“I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, from Hogwarts, I would like to speak to Mr. Potter, please.”

“The boy isn’t here.” The door slammed shut.

“Why, I never,” Minerva rang the doorbell again. Petunia scowled at her.

“Look, the Potter boy is not here and probably won’t be back for hours. I don’t know where he is and I don’t care either. He’s in the general area though. If you want to talk to him, you’ll just have to search or come back tomorrow before eight thirty in the morning.” The door slammed shut again with a rather definitive click signaling that it was locked.

How rude. I told Albus. I told him they were the worst sort of muggles, but would he listen? Oh no, because he is Albus ruddy Dumbledore. She put a notice-me-not spell on herself, before doing a point me.

I hope he appreciates this.


Two hours later, alternately cursing, Harry, Albus, and Petunia, Minerva glared at the trees surrounding her.

This is what I get for being a concerned Professor. If I knew that finding the child was going to turn into an epic quest, I would have asked Albus to lend me his phoenix. That over grown turkey has to be good for something.

She was tired, sweaty(even through the cooling charm), and very irritated. She would have given up a while ago, but the thought of Albus twinkling at her(and laughing on the inside) spurred her on.

“Do you need help?”

The polite query, spoken in a light tenor brought her attention to the young man leaning against one of the trees. Messy black hair fell around a face softened with baby fat. Glimpses of the face he would eventually have were evident in the high cheekbones and defined jaw line. Green eyes examined her in turn before an eyebrow rose.

“You seem to have gotten a bit turned around.”

Minerva would have liked to argue the point, but her robes -high necked, long sleeves, ankle length- were truly unsuited for the terrain.

“Well then Mr. Potter, perhaps if you were in a civilized setting, I would not have gotten ‘turned around.’”

Eyes narrowed, Harry straightened against the tree.

“You seem to know me, but I don’t know you.”

“ Professor Minerva McGonagall, I teach transfiguration at Hogwarts. As for how I know you, you bare a striking resemblance to your father, Mr. Potter, with your mother’s eyes and cheekbones.”

His wariness lessened slightly, but something she couldn’t quite place passed though his eyes. “Ah, yes, Hogwarts. The supposed school of witchcraft and wizardry. Do you have any proof this is a real place? I’ve certainly never heard about it,” his voice gained a sardonic lilt, “Your little acceptance letter wasn’t terribly informative, Deputy Headmistress.”

Minerva cleared her throat. “We are very sorry about that. Usually a member of staff would deliver the letter of muggleborns in person the year they turn eleven and explain about the wizarding world and magic,” she saw surprise on his face which she interpreted -incorrectly- to mean that he was unaware of magic. It was really the idea that there were enough people with abilities that they could form a wizarding world that had gotten to him.

Harry had an inkling, but this question needed to be asked. “Why was I not given this consideration?”

“You, Mr. Potter, are what some would call a half blood. That means that your father was a pureblooded wizard and your mother was a muggleborn. Technically, you are really a first generation pureblood, born to a witch and wizard, but most purebloods are opposed to this view because muggleborns come from parents without magic. We had thought that your Aunt would explain to you about your magic and what to expect.” Minerva practically saw his estimation of her intelligence drop.

“You actually thought Petunia would tell me anything useful about magic?” He filed the ‘we’ comment away for later consideration. “Your letter was the first time I ever heard about Hogwarts. The only mention my Aunt ever made of magic, was to tell me that it didn’t exist.”

Minerva’s lips thinned with disapproval. That woman.

“Well, first of all, Hogwarts is the most prestigious school of magic in Europe. It is a seven year boarding school that teaches children such as yourself how to control their magic. One of the many things you will be learning, is how to do this,” she drew her wand under Harry’s curious regard and transfigured a twig into a chair. His eyes widened, as she sat down. A second flick had a chair close to him. He took in the detail on the former twig nodding slightly as he sat down.

“When do you teach that?”

Minerva smiled at him. “Not for a few years Mr. Potter. First years generally start by changing a matchstick into a needle.” She noticed the way he was eyeing her wand and raised it to give him a clearer view. “This is my wand. Every witch and wizard is taught to use one to do magic. You will get one too when we go to Diagon Alley to buy your school things.” He looked at her oddly for a moment.

“Is attendance to Hogwarts mandatory, Professor?”

“Oh no, there are two other very good schools of magic in Europe. You would have to speak French or German to attend those though. Some parents also choose to home school their children, usually those families are ones that focus on a particular branch of magic, like potions. Every once in a while, a muggleborn’s parents will refuse to allow their child’s attendance.”

“Do you teach, things that a, muggle? is it, is expected to know. Higher math, the sciences, history, technology and such?”

Minerva waved away his concern. “We have potions, which is comparable to chemistry I believe it is, and Care of Magical Creatures for biology. Arithmancy deals with the magical properties of numbers and there is of course the History of Magic. Muggle technology does not work in Hogwarts or in any area with a high concentration of magic.”

Then he said something that wiped the smile from her face.

“I already attend one of the most prestigious schools in the UK, and while it can’t teach me how to change a matchstick into a needle, or a twig into a chair, graduation guarantees me my choice of the best tertiary education money can buy. And, subsequently, a very good job. Something tells me your school of magic can’t boast the same.”

Minerva was flustered for a moment. It never occurred to her that he might not want to go. Most children jumped at the chance to do magic. It was usually muggle parents that had reservations about sending their children to a magical school, and they more often than not, were pleased that the odd happenings that occurred when their children displayed accidental magic would stop as the child was taught to control their magic. The few who rejected the school outright generally had religious leanings. Harry gave no signs of being one of those.

After being raised by Petunia Dursley, who did not seem to care too much for him, she would have thought he would be happy to be given a chance to get away from her ten months out of the year.

Not to mention the fact that he was the Boy Who Lived. If he did not attend Hogwarts there would be an uproar.

“While leaving what you find comfortable in the muggle world might be a shock, I’m sure your parents would have loved for you to go to their old Alma Mater.” She was instantly aware that invoking his parents memories was the wrong track. The polite and congenial young man she had been speaking to vanished behind an icy mask.

“You will leave my parents out of this. You are here to convince me to leave a school I quite enjoy in order to attend one I never heard of before this morning, and enter a society I never knew existed,” light glinted off his glasses as he used a finger to adjust them. He aimed a frosty smile in her direction after checking his watch.

“It is now one forty five. I don’t generally return to the Dursley’s before seven. You have a little more than five hours. Sell your school to me, Deputy Headmistress.”

AN: So this is part one of the Get Harry to Hogwarts movement. Don’t worry he’ll get there, but the method to this happening will leave a big black mark on Harry’s regard for the Headmaster, and piss him off to no end. You’ll just have to wait and see.
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