Mother Magic and the Philosopher's stone

Chapter Six

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September, we await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

Harry brushed his fingers over the thick parchment, stroking over the jade calligraphy that said July 31st. That was this morning, so he supposed he needed to send it off now. Was Hogwarts far away? Harry wondered where the school was, or what it looked like. He knew about its founders, Lady Magic knew them well in her day, and he felt connected to Salazar Slytherin in his own right. His Lordship ring glinted in the light through the enchanted windows. Today it was a springtime garden in Japan, the cherry blossoms tumbling lazily in a light breeze.

He imagined a sprawling campus, white marble, and large gardens. He wished for magical creatures around every corner, and a fantastic array of spells in the air.

"Mother?" he asked, rolling up a small reply to the acceptance letter into a scroll.
'Aye, my ward,'
"I don't have an owl, how am I going to send a letter?"
'Would you like one?' Harry nodded eagerly, a small grin touching his lips. 'Perhaps soon my heir. For now, there is an owl waiting outside for you. Just tie the letter to him, he'll know exactly what to do.'

Harry left his cupboard, locking his trunk behind him as he went. Stars forbid that one of his relatives gets into it. Not only would Ouroboros gladly make a quick meal out of Dudley or Aunt Petunia, but he was sure that in a few years Vernon would be just a snack too.

Outside was quiet, most of tidy, boring Privet drive had left for work on a sweltering Friday morning like today. On the tidy, boring manicured trees (albeit yellowed by the sun) was a brown speckled owl. It seemed that nobody had paid it any mind or bothered it in any way. Harry had noticed that most normal people, Muggles, his mind supplied, hardly noticed anything peculiar. Perhaps it was better that way. The owl blinked at him, brilliant amber eyes boring into his jaded green. The boy, now eleven, held his arm out, and the bird landed on it immediately, holding out a leg for a letter to be tied.

-

Hundreds of miles away, expecting a very important letter, Albus Dumbledore paced in his office.

Everything was going completely to plan. He had ensured it. With Arabella fig surveying the area, though she didn't really know for what purpose, the brilliant, no, genius man, had ensured his soldier of the light was completely alone. Cupboard under the stairs, no friends, the Dursleys. There was no conceivable way that the boy would not be pining for the image of his parents, yearning for the light magic, desperate to please any person that showed interest or attention.
Good Witches and Wizards of course.

Fawkes looked at his master in disdain, disappointed in what the Grandwizard had become over the years. A twisted, sickened old man, disconnected from the struggles of real people, sitting in his tower, surveying current events like a game waiting to be played. This time though, he felt a difference in the air, something, ancient. The phoenix chirped quietly, feeling it resonate in the air. Aye, something was different indeed. Something ready to tear Albus apart at the seams. If the bird was capable, perhaps he would have been excited.

September 1st was just the beginning.