Life in Hogwarts

I was ordinary, as ordinary as you or me. But one day; I got a letter. Little did I know that It would change my life... My name is Winter Knight, I've just turned eleven and I live in London, England. This is how I finally found what I'd been looking for. - I don't own any of the 'Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone' story line or characters. All credit goes to the amazing J.K Rowling. I do own Winter Knight though. So yep. Carry On.

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2. You too,Ms. Knight.

 

                                 “How are we going to get all of this?” I asked my dad as we drove around London. I had been woken up at about 6:30 this morning. I had finally managed to get a little bit of sleep, but I was still really tired. My dad insisted that we should get going early, so he could take me to get all my things.

“You’ll see, darling.” He said, his eyes dodging around the buildings; as if he was trying to remember where something was. I’d been to London plenty of times, but I’d never been this early. I suppose not that many people wanted to be out on the streets at 7 on a Tuesday morning.

They drove past lots of different buildings; Music stores, book stores, cafes, cinemas, the list goes on, but not a single store looked like it would sell a cauldron or wand. As I looked around for anything magical, my dad pulled the car into a 24/7 car park.

“Here we are” He said, looking at a tiny, grubby-looking pub. There was a sign on the roof of the building, some of the letters were starting to fall off but it defiantly said the Leaky Cauldron. If it wasn’t for the fact that my dad had pointed it out, I would have never noticed it.

                     People walked by; their eyes going from the record shop on one side to the book store on the other. I wonder if they could actually see the old pub, or if it had some weird, magic charm on it. Before I could even think of opening my mouth to say something, my dad gently nudged me inside.

The building was dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in the corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry; one was sucking on a long, smoking pipe. The old bartender, who was quite bald, was talking to a little man in a top hat.

My dad walked over to the bartender, me following closely behind.

        “It’s been a long time, Tom” My dad said when the old bartender looked up. He squinted, his eyes at him, before they popped open again.

“Jerry? Is that you? It is you. It’s been years. How’s it been?” He said, shaking my dad’s hand.

“Good, good. I’d like you to meet Winter; my daughter.”

“Nice to meet you Winter” He held out his hand, and I shyly took it in my own. He gave it a soft shake.

“Nice to meet you, too, sir” I said politely. The low buzz of chatter stopped as a man, twice the size of a normal person with a scruffy beard walked in. You could only just see his eyes; glistening, like black beetles, in the low lights of the pub. At his side was a small skinny boy, with a thin face, black hair and bright-green eyes. On the bridge of his nose was a pair of round glasses that had been fixed with cello-tape.

Everyone in the Leaky Cauldron seemed to know the giant, and was waving and smiling at him. Tom reached for a glass before saying: “The usual, Hagrid?”

“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business” The man said, clapping his great hand on the boy’s shoulder, making his knees buckle.

“Good Lord,” Said the barman, peering at the boy, “Is this – can this be -?” The Leaky Cauldron suddenly went completely still and silent. “Bless by soul” He whispered “Harry Potter... what an honour” He quickly hurried out from behind the bar, rushing to the boy called Harry, and seized his hand; tears in his eyes.

“Welcome back, Mr Potter, welcome back” The boy obviously wasn’t use to all the attention and didn’t know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The lady with the pipe was puffing on it, without realizing it had gone out. The giant named Hagrid was beaming.

All of a sudden there was a great scraping of chairs, and next moment, they boy was shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron; including my dad.

“Doris Crockford, Mr Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.”

“So proud, Mr Potter, I’m just so proud”

“Always wanted to shake your hand – I’m all of a flutter”

“Delighted, Mr Potter, just can’t tell you, Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle”

“I’ve seen you before!” said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle’s top hat fell off in his excitement. “You bowed to me once in a shop”

“He remembers!” cried the man, looking around at everyone “Did you hear that? He remembers me!” Harry shook more hands; Doris Crockford kept coming back for more. A pale young man walked past me and made his way to Harry, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

“Professor Quirrell!” Said Hagrid. My dad led me over to them.

“Hagrid” my dad nodded at the giant, before turning his attention to Harry. “Harry, I would like you to meet Winter.” I blushed and shook his hand.

“Now” Hagrid continued “Harry, Winter, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”

“P-P-Potter,” Stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry’s hand “I c-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you” He turned to me, and grabbed my hand; after he was finished shaking Harry’s hand. “A-and you, W-w-winter.”

“What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?”

“D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts” muttered the man, as though he’d rather not think about it “N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?” He laughed nervously, and I looked at my dad; confused. “You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose?” He looked between Harry Potter and I “I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.” He looked terrified at the very thought.

Everyone wanted to get a piece of Harry Potter. It took almost ten minutes for them to get away from it all. Doris Crockford shook Harry’s hand one last time before Hagrid led him through the bar into a small room.

Who is Harry Potter, and why is everyone is interested to meet him? I am determined to find out.\

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TADA CHAPTER TWO. I didn't know were to stop it , so I decided here is a good place(:
Comment or Quirrell will try and talk to you, awks.

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