Insignificant Decisions

(Quote from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone)

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and - a letter for Harry. Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives - he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Harry drowned his relatives' voices out as he stared at his name formally written on the front of the letter in utter amazement. His letter. Who on earth would send him a letter? He turned it over to open and hesitated. He felt cold as he remembered his relative's punishment after the snake incident just before the summer holidays. He didn't want to go back to the cupboard, he had only just gotten out again. He would certainly get in trouble for getting a strange letter if they saw it. Especially a strange letter that knew what room he lived in. Instead of opening it, he slipped it in his pocket.

Harry went back to the kitchen. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk-."

Taking a deep breath he walked over to his spot at the table. The letter could wait until after chores.

Harry didn't think he had ever gotten his chores done so quickly. He usually lingered outside on the garden chores, but today he rushed through everything. Which had been rather stupid of him as to counter this, Aunt Petunia had given him more chores for the rest of the afternoon inside. Thinking about the mysterious letter kept him distracted at least.

An agonisingly long dinner later, he practically lept into his cupboard. Having run out of patience he ripped open the letter hoping nobody would interrupt him before bed. He read the letter.

He blinked. He read the letter again.

Harry finished the letter for the second time, removed his glasses, cleaned them on his old baggy shirt, put them back on and read the letter again.

The contents of the letter remained the same on his third, fourth and fifth rereads of the letter.

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 been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

What did it mean? Witchcraft and wizardry? Hogwarts? Warlocks? Owls? Was Dudley playing a cruel trick on him again because he was going to Stonewall? But Dudley couldn't have pulled a prank like this off. He didn't have the patience. He read the uniform, course books and equipment list not getting less confused but far more so. His eyes focused in on words such as dragons, magic and broomsticks.

If this was a prank, it was the most elaborate one he had ever encountered. Harry Potter sat utterly confused and feeling very alone in his cupboard under the stairs. He didn't sleep at all well that night.

On Tuesday morning Harry woke up to his aunt banging on his door like any other morning. He felt like he had managed to get ten minutes rest the entire night. He looked across his cupboard at the letter lying on his shelf, his thoughts just as muddled as the night before. What was happening? Was this some kind of practical joke? Was it real? What should he do?

If life with the Dursleys had taught him one thing, it was to not ask questions. You never asked questions, you either found answers or you waited for them. And so Harry decided to wait for the other shoe to drop. If it was Dudley, the most likely option, then he would not be able to wait long before revealing himself. If it wasn't Dudley… then magic?

But magic did not exist.

Well, Dudley or anything else, he would deal with it then.

The other shoe conveniently happened to drop, with a rather loud thud, just days later.

Harry got up on Monday morning absentmindedly, with little attention given to the world around him. Until, he was yet again standing at the door with mail in hand, staring at a letter with bold green ink, declaring;

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

He excused himself to the toilet after handing Uncle Vernon the bills. He tore the letter out of its envelope

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,

Due to a lack of response to the previous letter it has come to my attention that your family may not be able to supply an owl to respond to this letter with. Please feel free to send a response by muggle post to 124 Grey Street, Hogsmeade.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

Harry blinked. Muggle post? He knew what post was, but muggle post? The street address seemed authentic. His heart beat a little faster. What if this was real, no matter the weird circumstances was he being accepted into a school? Maybe one his parents had put him in at birth. Just this once, he would hope for a miracle.

Harry didn't return to breakfast and once inside his cupboard pulled out a pen and paper. With more attention than he had ever given to his handwriting before, he carefully put his pen to the paper.

Dear Deputy Headmistress,

Minerva McGonagall spent all of Thursday sorting through her replies to the acceptance letters, with all the generic responses accounted for, at about 6 o'clock she came across a letter sent by one Harry J. Potter and was completely stumped.

Dear Deputy Headmistress,

I don't want to sound rude, but I believe you may have sent this letter to the wrong person. I cannot recall applying for this school although I suppose my parents could have enrolled me at birth. If this is the case would you be able to clarify things for me?

Regards, Harry J. Potter

What on earth? Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, didn't know about Hogwarts. After sitting quietly in her study until the sky fell dark Minerva McGonagall had reached a few possible conclusions, and was displeased with absolutely all of them.

Harry Potter fell asleep on Thursday night wondering if he would ever receive a reply to his letter or if it was his last childish wish for a different life, completely unaware that in Scotland a very displeased Minerva McGonagall was organising a day trip to Surrey.

A/N: Thanks to Whispers in the Dawn for beta-reading my never ending sentences and muddled grammar.

So this plotline (has many similar to it) and has been done before. Lots of times in fact. I will not live up to the brilliant other stories out there but I am going to use this as a chance to practice my writing. Not sure what I'm doing, but we will see what happens. Hopefully I will know what I'm doing soon. (Key word: hopefully)

This story is also going to take a while getting off the ground. But it will speed up. Thanks for reading! :)

Tallara