von Linda Black
When Harry came down, there was a surprise for him waiting. Not a present, the Dursleys had never in their whole live given him a proper present, but a visit. There, sitting at the table, completely still and strict-looking as always, was Professor McGonagall, his transformation teacher, head of house and now headmistress of Hogwarts. Opposite of her was his uncle, Vernon Dursley, looking with even more hatred at here than he had ever looked at Harry. Harry’s aunt Petunia sat beside her shivering son Dudley, holding his hand. Dudley had been afraid of wizards since the half-giant Hagrid had made a tail grow out of his ass. But since Fred and George Weasley had given him a toffee that had made his tongue grow to the size of one metre, he was absolutely terrified. “Well”, said Professor McGonagall, “since Harry has arrived there is no reason I shouldn’t tell you what I am doing here. As you know, I’m sure, Harry turns 17 today; he is a grown-up and can decide for himself what he wants to do. I am here to ask him, whether he would like to stay here for a while or leave this house forever and go to live somewhere else.” “I want to leave!” Harry said immediately. Uncle Vernon looked very pleased. “Ok, bye then”, he said. “I’m afraid it’s not as easy as that”, Professor McGonagall said with a cold look in her eyes. The only reason why Harry Potter has been here for 17 years was to save him. The blood that flows in your veins”, and she looked at aunt Petunia, “is the blood that saved his life 16 years ago. Your sister would have been ashamed of you”, she said and, if even possible, she looked angrier than before. She turned to Harry and said: “Well, get your stuff then.” Harry sprinted up to his room. It took him exactly 18 minutes until he had squeezed everything into his suitcase. He took Hedwig’s empty cage and pulled it, together with his suitcase, down the stairs. Professor McGonagall was already waiting for him. They left the house (the Dursleys looking at them quite angrily) and walked down Privet Drive. “Professor”, Harry asked nervously. He had never been this close to his teacher. “Where are we going?” Professor McGonagall looked at him and said: “It’s foggy, don’t you think?” Harry was quite sure this meant that she wanted no questions asked.
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