Harry Potter and the Silent Dead: Book 1

Chapter 2:Welcome to the living

Harry awoke the next morning, excited despite himself. The Dursleys were leaving for Dudley's birthday, and decided last minute to just leave Harry behind rather than bring him along. It was time for him to re-join the magical world at last.

Now,any may wonder how Harry knew he was rejoining the world. It was quite simple, something he had pointed out to Sally a long time ago. Necromancy was family magic, passed down through certain blood lines, pre-dominantly the Peverells. With this revelation, Harry knew he wasn't a Muggleborn; and he couldn't wait to find out why his family had abandoned him to Muggles.

After following the directions to Diagon Alley in his letter, Harry found himself standing confused outside of a dark and disillusioned pub. At this point the young wizard started to despair, as surely the only way through to Diagon Alley was by asking for directions. He was saved, however, by a feeling he was very familiar with. It was known as 'the sixth sense' and manifested as a tingling sensation at the back of his neck, whenever a ghost was near. Reassured, Harrison walked through the pub following the direction where the sense was strongest, before coming up to a brick wall. Tired of all the tricks used to ward off Muggles, he simply lay his hand upon the brick and reached out his magic, wishing for entrance. Whatever ward was built into the wall, it sensed the magical presence and opened, revealing the wizarding world to him for the very first time.

Harry must have spent at least ten minutes simply gawking at the sight before him, before pulling himself together embarrassed. Merlin knows what an idiot he must look like. He could see the thoughts behind the eyes of witches and wizards dressed in fancy clothes, the purebloods. Muggleborn. Mollified somewhat, Harry walked past Madame Malkin's robe shop, and Eeylops owl emporium towards Gringotts. He was awed by the tall building, understanding how old it was, as even Sally remembered it from childhood, a few hundred years ago. Whilst Harry had never seen a goblin before, he knew better than to stare, and simply walked up to the first available teller he saw. Remembering Sally's instructions he greeted them, 'May your gold overflow.'

Griphook looked up, startled at the whispering voice that echoed in his head. He looked down at the small boy in front of him, worried that such a small child, muggle-raised knew legilimency. Shaking away his slight fear, he sneered down at the boy, hoping to intimidate the gutsy little wizard. "It is quite rude to nosy around in another's mind." Again, the whispered thought, 'My apologies, but I don't really speak, and I need to speak to someone about my vaults. I believe I may have a few I have been denied access to.' Instantly Griphooks entire demeanor changed. The child was quite polite for a wizard, and was clearly mute. Not to mention powerful. There was a darkness to the boys aura, like bitter chocolate. And rude or not, they were a paying customer. "Very well, follow me." They walked behind the stand towards an ornate marbled door, and walked inside.to a cosy looking office. After taking a seat, Griphook went to business. "So please, explain this predicament you have found yourself in little wizard."

Harry was relieved, quite simply, to finally be here. Soon he would find out who he was, and what had happened to his family. He was furious that they would leave him as a baby, especially with Muggles. No, Harry was no racist, unlike many Purebloods. He didn't care all that much about blood. He didn't like Muggles, or some Muggleborns, simply because of their attitude. Muggles were the reason Sally was dead. They killed what they didn't understand, and would destroy magic if they got the chance. That was why he didn't understand how a pureblood family could leave a child with Non-magical people. Looking up at the goblin, he told the creature what he knew. 'I was raised by muggles. But I've always known I was different. They were cruel and mistreated me, at first for seemingly no reason. Until I was four, anyway. That was when I started doing magic. When I was older, I realised they must have known about the magic. They knew what I would do. When I was six, I met someone that could tell me a little about magic. They explained Muggleborns, and Purebloods, and I realised that I wasn't a Muggleborn. Which means I was born here, in the wizarding world. I was raised knowing that my parents died when I was a baby. But my so called relatives also told me magic wasn't real. So I don't know what to believe anymore.' Harrison fell silent waiting for the goblin to respond.