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SIYE Time:13:50 on 29th March 2024
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Harry Potter/Granger And The Philosopher's Stone
By Marcus S Lazarus

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama
Warnings: Violence
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 82
Summary: Harry is badly beaten by the Dursleys and is sent to an orphanage, where he befriends a girl who shall become his sister in every way that matters... Hermione Granger. How would things change from this one moment?
Hitcount: Story Total: 44169; Chapter Total: 3560







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An hour later, the Grangers and Harry were standing on the London Underground, looking around themselves and trying not to pay too much attention to Hagrid, who was squatting over two seats drumming his fingers impatiently as he stared around at the carriage.

Having managed to call Alan, Mrs Granger had eventually persuaded her husband to close down the office for the day and come home for a proper explanation. Having met Hagrid, Mr Granger was initially sceptical, but after Hagrid had proved his story by enlarging and shrinking a few of the apples on the table (Apologising for the lack of anything more elaborate; he had apparently been expelled in his third year for some reason), Alan had been more prepared to accept Hagrid's story, no matter how confusing it was to believe that his adopted son had saved the world when he was barely a year old, and had agreed to join his wife and children in purchasing their new school supplies.

If only Hagrid would stop looking around the carriage with an expression that resembled a man who regularly enjoyed horse races being forced to watch snails compete against each other; it seemed as though Hagrid was used to getting around a lot faster than the normal- or rather 'muggle', Harry reminded himself- way.

Finally, they reached their stop and Hagrid walked out of the carriage, followed by the Grangers as Hagrid stretched slightly and began to walk over to the stairs leading to the streets.

"I don't know how the muggles manage without magic," he said, as the five of them began to walk up the stairs; nobody had the heart to point out to Hagrid that you weren't meant to walk up a broken escalator, particularly the down escalator.

After a brief walk through central London, Harry and Hermione staring around at the shops as Hagrid led the way and Alan and Jane trying their best to look inconspicuous despite their rather unusual companion, Hagrid finally stopped and smiled.

"Here it is," he said, grinning as he glanced back at the children and their parents. "The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

Standing in front of them was a rather shabby-looking pub, comparatively small and insignificant when compared to the bookshop and the record store on either side of it. Harry was surprised at the lack of attention it seemed to be attracting, but then again, given that Alan and Jane seemed to be pretty confused even though he and Hermione were perfectly fine, maybe 'muggles' just couldn't see it without help…

"Just take yer kids hands 'n follow me," Hagrid said, smiling back at them as he walked towards the door of the pub, Harry taking Jane's hand and following as Hermione grabbed her father's hand.

As soon as they entered the pub, the barman glanced over at Hagrid- there were only around half a dozen witches and wizards visible at the immediate moment- and, raising a glass, called out "The usual, Hagrid?"

Hagrid chuckled slightly as he patted Harry's shoulder. "Can't, Tom; Hogwarts business."

"Bless my soul…" the barman said, as his eyes suddenly fell on Harry's forehead. "Harry Potter… what an honour…"

The entire bar had suddenly gone quiet at the barman's words, everyone turning to look at the door. Harry was briefly tempted to try and hide behind Hagrid to avoid being seen, no matter how childish it might appear, but the barman was too fast for that, dashing out from behind the bar to grab Harry's hand and shake it, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr Potter, welcome back…"

"Uh… thanks," Harry said, smiling slightly sheepishly at the barman as the rest of the bar turned to look at him. He vaguely noticed Hermione smile over at him in a lightly teasing manner- she knew Harry hated getting too much attention- while Alan and Jane looked around the bar incredulously at how many people suddenly seemed to want to come over and shake hands with their son.

"Doris Crockford, Mr Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last…"

"We can't thank you enough for what you did, Mr Potter…"

"Delighted, Mr Potter, absolutely delighted…"

Fortunately, Harry managed to escape from the numerous wizards eager to shake his hand when a tall man wearing a rather odd purple turban walked past them and was promptly grabbed by Hagrid.

"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid grinned under his beard, smiling as he glanced back at Harry and Hermione. "Harry, Hermione, Professor Quirrell will be one of yer teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-P-Potter," Quirrell said, smiling slightly at Harry. "G-G-G-Good t-t-t-t-to m-m-m-meet you."

"Uh… same here," Harry said, declining to offer the man his hand; if he shook any more hands he worried that his wrist might fall off.

"What do you teach?" Hermione asked, looking at Quirrell inquiringly, evidently eager to get a better idea of the subjects in her new school.

"D-D-D-D-Defence A-A-Against the D-D-D-Dark A-A-A-Arts," Quirrell replied, looking at Hermione in confusion. "Y-y-y-you are?"

"Oh, sorry; I'm Hermione Granger, Harry's sister," Hermione replied, smiling up at Quirrell and holding out her own hand.

"Adopted," Jane supplied, noting Quirrell's confused expression. "We took Harry in when he was about six, and he's lived with us ever since."

"Ah," Quirrell said, nodding in understanding, apparently ignoring Hermione's hand. "Well, I'd b-b-b-b-best be o-o-off. I h-h-h-have t-t-t-t-to p-p-p-pick up a n-n-n-new b-b-b-b-book on v-v-v-v-vampires m-m-m-m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

"Ah," Hagrid said, nodding as well before shrugging and patting Harry on the shoulder. "Anyway, best be off; lots ter do, things ter buy… Come on, all."


"Well, that was… unexpected," Alan commented, as they walked out into the alleyway behind the pub. "Is my son really that well-known, or was all that somehow pre-arranged?"

"Nope; all chance, I assure ye," Hagrid said, smiling as he pulled out his umbrella and began to count the bricks on the wall in the front of him. "Yer son saved us all, Mr Granger; ye'd be hard-pressed these days ter find a witch or wizard who doesn't know his name."

Hermione chuckled slightly as she glanced over at Harry.

"Looks like you're out of luck, little brother!" she said, affectionately squeezing his shoulder. "No more hiding in the corner to avoid attention now!"

"I'm not that bad, Hermione!" Harry said, glaring over at his sister as Hagrid counted bricks along the wall in front of them after finding a certain height on the wall to their left. "I just… well… hate people making a big deal about me, you know that. You're the one who -"

However, Harry's next statement was destined never to be revealed, as Hagrid found a certain brick and tapped it three times. To the amazement of the others, the wall suddenly opened up right in front of their eyes, the bricks folding back like someone spreading aside the leaves in a bush with their hands, until the hole in the wall had gone from a single brick to something that could easily accommodate Hagrid even with Alan and Jane on either side of him.

"Welcome," Hagrid said, smiling at the other four as he indicated the long, winding street before them, crammed full of all kinds of people in various different-coloured robes, "to Diagon Alley."

"Wow…" Harry and Hermione said as they glanced over at each other, their parents staring around the alleyway as Hagrid walked along. Suddenly, Mr Granger stopped as his eyes fell on a price label on a cauldron in the street, and he glanced over at Hagrid with a slightly concerned expression.

"Uh… Hagrid…" he said, slightly uncertain about addressing their new acquaintance merely by his surname, even if he'd insisted upon it, "these 'galleons' and 'sickles' mentioned on the price labels… I presume they're wizard currency?"

Hagrid smiled at the man's slight panic.

"Oh, don't worry about that; ye can change yer muggle money for wizard money in Gringotts," the gamekeeper explained, indicating a large white building at the end of the alley. "And even if yer couldn't, well, James 'n Lily left Harry a decent amount of money that' still in the vault; it should be enough ter cover school supplies."

Harry's eyes widened in shock as he processed Hagrid's comment.

"I… I have a vault?" he said, looking over at Hagrid enquiringly.

"Oh yeah; pretty big amount of cash in it too, as I recall," Hagrid said, as he reached inside his coat and, after a moment's searching, pulled out a small gold key, which he passed to Harry. "Here's the key fer the vault; just show it ter the goblins in the entrance and they'll take it from there."

"Uh… goblins?" Hermione asked, glancing over at Hagrid in surprise. "Did you say 'goblins'?"

"Yeah, so ye'd be mad ter try and rob Gringotts; they're even meant ter have dragons guarding the vaults," Hagrid said, chuckling slightly. "Blimey, I'd love a dragon."

"A dragon!" Jane said, staring at Hagrid in shock.

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid- ah, here we are," Hagrid said, as they entered the main door of the bank.

Looking around at the various short, long-nosed, long-eared creatures stamping books all around them, in a hall that was at least as large as their entire house, Harry and Hermione couldn't help but move slightly closer to each other for comfort; they'd always gone to each other for general comfort rather than their parents ever since the adoption. They mainly attributed this detail to the fact that it had been Hermione who had helped Harry get over his initial feelings of inadequacy caused by the Dursleys; Hermione had been his first source of physical comfort, and she had, ever since, been his most constant one.

Reaching the main desk, Hagrid placed a hand down on the table and looked at the goblin sitting there, who put down his quill and looked up at Hagrid in a relaxed manner, as though this sort of thing happened all the time.

"Mr Harry Potter wishes to make a withdrawal, and his guardians wish to exchange muggle money for wizarding," Hagrid said, looking at the goblin with a respectful expression.

"Do you have his key?" the goblin inquired.

"Uh… right here, sir," Harry said, holding up the key that Hagrid had given him and passing it to the goblin, who studied it briefly.

"Very well," he said, passing it back to Harry.

"And I've got some business ter attend ter, on Professor Dumbledore's orders," Hagrid said, as he picked a piece of paper out of another pocket and gave it to Griphook. "It's about the you-know-what in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin briefly studied the note, and then nodded as he looked back at Hagrid.

"Very well," he said. "That seems to be in order. I will have someone take you to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin, who took Harry, Hagrid and Hermione to a door in the hall while Jane and Alan stayed with the original goblin to change their money. Going through the door, Harry and Hermione were surprised to find themselves in a narrow stone passageway lit by various torches, a cart already waiting for them. As soon as all four of them were in it, the cart- apparently of its own accord- began to move, plunging along the rails that it stood on with a speed that made most roller coasters seem slow, taking corners so fast that Hermione was amazed they didn't fall off. Harry briefly thought about asking Hagrid if this was normal, but when he say the gamekeeper's rather green face, he decided not to and just held on as tight as possible.

Eventually, the cart stopped and the four passengers got out, Hagrid leaning dizzily against the wall as Griphook took Harry's key and opened the vault before them. Green smoke billowed out as the door opened, and as the contents were revealed, Harry and Hermione could only stare in amazement at the mass of gold, silver and bronze coins that were pilled up inside the vault.

"Whoa…" Hermione said, as she glanced over at her brother. "Can you believe this?"

"Yeah, I know," Harry replied, as he stared at the coins before looking back at Hagrid and Griphook. "And all this is mine?"

"Indeed," Griphook said, nodding at the young wizard. "It was a significant amount to begin with, but with over ten years' worth of interest to take into consideration, it is one of, if not the, largest under-age account we possess."

"Incredible…" Hermione said again, as she and Harry began to grab a few handfuls of each kind of coin and stuff them into their pockets. After they'd run out of space to put the money in question, Harry and Hermione returned to the cart, Hagrid looking distinctly green as they began to hurtle along the rails at an ever-increasing speed, going deeper and deeper until they finally stopped in front of the infamous vault seven hundred and thirteen.

As Griphook walked up to the door and stroked it with a single finger, the door opened, to reveal…

Neither child could conceal their slight disappointment; there was nothing there but a small package wrapped in brown paper, which Hagrid picked up and slipped into his pocket.

"What's-" Hermione began, but Hagrid shook his head.

"Best yer don't know," he said simply. "C'mon, let's get back te yer parents, and don't talk on the way back, it's best if I keep m'mouth shut."


A few minutes later, Harry and Hermione were untied with Alan and Jane, staring around Diagon Alley as Hagrid stood beside them, still a bit unsteady on his legs.

"Look, why don't you two get yer uniforms while yer parents and I attend ter potion ingredients?" Hagrid said, indicating a shop called Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. "We'll meet yer there in a few minutes, OK?"

Harry nodded in agreement- he and Hermione always enjoyed the chance to do something on their own, no matter what it was- and he and Hermione headed for the shop in question.

"Hogwarts, dears?" a squat, smiling witch who they presumed was Madam Malkin asked them as they stepped in. "We've got everything here- there's another young man being fitted up just now, but we can attend to you both as well easily enough."

Harry and Hermione were guided to the back of the shop, where a boy with almost platinum-coloured hair and a pale, pointed face was also getting his robes done. Harry and Hermione were each positioned on stools near the boy as Madam Malkin and one of her helpers slipped long black robes over them and began to pin them to the right lengths.

"Hello," the boy said, nodding at them briefly. "Hogwarts as well?"

"Yeah," Harry said dismissively, as Hermione nodded.

"My parents are just picking up some essentials and then I'll be dragging them over to look at brooms," the boy explained. "It's totally unfair that first years aren't allowed their own; I think I'll persuade my father to get me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry and Hermione briefly exchanged a look; both of them were uncomfortably reminded of Dudley Dursley's habit of getting everything he wanted regardless of whether he should have it or not.

"Have you got your own brooms?" the boy asked.

Harry shrugged. "Not really; we haven't really had the opportunity to get any practice," he said dismissively; he was already wishing this boy would shut up and leave them alone.

"Oh, you know each other?" the boy said, looking at them with an idle curiosity, almost like he was only asking the question because he felt it was expected of him rather than actual interest.

"Actually, he's my adopted brother," Hermione said, indicating Harry. Harry was relieved to note that she hadn't given the boy his name; despite the earlier teasing, she clearly respected his wishes for anonymity.

"Really?" the boy said, looking at Harry as though he was a minor intellectual curiosity. "What happened to your real parents?"

"Dead," Harry said simply.

"Oh, sorry," the boy said, without sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"A witch and a wizard, if you mean that," Harry said, exchanging an exasperated glance with Hermione; this guy was proving less and less likeable with every passing minute.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're not the same, they haven't been raised to know our ways; some of them haven't even heard of Hogwarts before receiving the letter. They really should just keep it in the old wizarding families…."

Harry and Hermione glanced over at each other with a slight degree of shock; this guy was starting to sound almost… racist towards non-magical families.

It's official; we are never going to get along with this guy, Harry thought to himself. The boy was just about to open his mouth to ask another question when Madam Malkin said "That's you two done, dears," and Harry and Hermione jumped off the stools, paid for their robes, and headed out into the street, where they soon met up with the Grangers and Hagrid outside the Potions supply shop.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" Alan asked, noticing the slight edginess in his adopted son's stance.

"Mmm? Oh, it's nothing, Dad; just a bit of an unpleasant reminder," Harry said, indicating the robe shop. "Hermione and I just had an unpleasant encounter with some kid who was acting a bit too racist for my liking…"

"What, going on about how muggle families shouldn't be allowed in?" Hagrid asked, chuckling slightly at Harry and Hermione's slight discomfort. "No need ter fret; there's still the occasional family that thinks that way, but most people these days know that blood don't make a blind bit o' difference."

He patted Hermione reassuringly on the shoulder, and indicated another shop called Flourish & Blots. "Anyway, we've still got a few details ter attend to before we're done."

Browsing through the shop was interesting, to say the least, although Harry did get a bit embarrassed when Hermione found a few passages relating to him in at least three books she picked up out of casual interest; Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. Harry had thought about getting them to do some research into his past, but had eventually decided it wasn't worth the hassle; if nothing else, how many people would actually know about the events of that night beyond him and Voldemort? They did pick up a couple of copies of a book called Hogwarts: A History that looked rather interesting, as well as one or two other interesting-looking books, but other than that the only books that they purchased were those on the school list.

The stop-off at the cauldron shop was relatively brief, but Harry hadn't been expecting much from that anyway.

Outside the shop, Hagrid checked their lists again.

"Just one or two things left ter pick up…" he muttered to himself, before glancing over at Alan and Jane. "I've just got something ter check on with Hermione. Alan, you should go along with Harry ter pick up his wand; Jane, I'd appreciate ye coming along with me, 'n then I'll go along with Hermione ter get her own wand."

"Sounds fine," Alan said, nodding in approval at the suggestion; Harry briefly got the impression that something about this had been discussed earlier while he wasn't there, but shook it off as unimportant. "Come on Harry, let's go."

After a short walk, Harry was standing with his adopted father outside a narrow, shabby shop which, according to the peeling gold lettering above it, was 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.' A lone wand lay on a once gleaming purple pillow that had faded in the incessant sunlight over the years.

The inside of the shop was even smaller, consisting of only a small patch of empty floor while the surrounding walls were covered in various long thin boxes that must hold the wands in question. Besides a small chair near a window, the only furniture in the room was a desk, where an old man with slightly curly white hair and gleaming eyes stood, looking at them.

"Good afternoon," he said simply, before walking forward slightly to look at them.

"Um… hello," Alan said, after a moment's pause. "We're here to get a wand for my son."

"Ah yes," the man said, nodding as he looked at Harry. "Harry Potter. I was wondering when I would be seeing you. It seems merely a day ago when your parents were in here buying their first wands. Your mother, ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Delightful wand for charms work, it was. And so was she. By contrast, your father favoured an eleven inch mahogany wand, quite pliable, more powerful than your mother's and excellent for transfiguration, as he himself was. Well, I say your father favoured it… it's the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

He sighed slightly as he indicated Harry's scar.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did that," he said, noting Harry's brief confusion. "Thirteen and a half inches, yew and phoenix feather- extraordinarily powerful. In the wrong hands… it has most disastrous results, as I'm sure you're aware, Mr. Potter. If I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

After a moment's pause, the man simply stepped back and smiled slightly at Harry. "Well, Mr. Potter, let us have a look then. Which is your wand arm?"

"Well… I'm right handed?" Harry said, hoping he'd understood right.

"That is it then," Ollivander's voice intoned. Harry got chills down his spine whenever Ollivander spoke… "Hold out your arm."

Harry and Alan could only watch in confusion as the tape-measure began to take all kinds of random measurements, totally independent of Mr Ollivander, as he began to explain briefly about the cores used for the wands in question before he began to pass Harry wand after wand. Maple with phoenix feather, beechwood with dragon heartstring, ebony and unicorn hair… after a while, Harry just blanked out the exact descriptions and just focused on waving the wands, each time resulting in them getting snatched out of Harry's hand to be replaced by the next, apparently making Mr Ollivander slightly happier with each wand.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the wand for you yet… I wonder… yes, why not… holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, try it."

As Harry took the wand, he instantly felt a warmth spread through his fingers. Raising the wand and bringing it down, he was instantly rewarded by a stream of sparks, as well as a relieved clap from Alan, as Mr Ollivander nodded thoughtfully, muttering "Curious… very curious…"

"Uh… what's curious?" Harry said, looking at Ollivander in confusion.

"That one, Mr. Potter, has a brother. It is curious indeed that you are destined for that wand, when its brother- why, it's brother gave you that scar."

He smiled slightly as he looked at Harry. "I feel we can expect great things from you, Harry Potter. After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great."

Shivering slightly, Harry was relieved that Hermione and Jane chose that moment to come back; Hagrid had volunteered to take their belongings back to their house himself, assuring them that they could get back to the muggle world easily without him, and had given Harry and Hermione the tickets they'd need for the train to school. Hermione's wand was quickly discovered- vine wood with dragon heartstring- and then the Grangers returned to the Leaky Cauldron, where they purchased a small dinner with the last of Alan and Jane's galleons.

However, even as he chewed on his burger, Harry couldn't stop himself worrying about the future. He'd just had one of the most incredible days of his life, and yet…

He sighed.

"Harry?" Alan said, looking over in concern at his son. "Are you all right?"

Harry chewed thoughtfully on his burger for a few moments, unsure how to really explain how he felt, before looking back at Alan.

"It's just… everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last. "Mr Ollivander, Professor Quirrell, all those people in the Leaky Cauldron… but I don't even remember why. I can't even do any magic yet; I feel like they're all expecting me to be a new Merlin and I haven't even cast a single spell. I'm famous and I have no real memory of what I'm famous for. I can't even remember what happened the night Voldemort killed… well, killed my parents."

Alan smiled affectionately at the child who'd been as good as his own for the past five years and, reaching over, affectionately ruffled Harry's hair.

"Don't worry about it, Harry; it's always hard to be singled out, no matter what the reason is. Everyone starts at the beginning some time; I mean, imagine what we might be going through if you weren't here to help provide us with a better link to this world," he said, indicating Hermione, who was animatedly talking with her mother about her new books. "You and Hermione have always been bright at school, and I have no doubt that you'll both do well now, no matter how difficult it seems at first."

Harry smiled back. "Thanks, Dad," he said.

"You're welcome," Alan replied, before sighing in an exaggerated manner. "Of course, it's a pity we already got your birthday presents; they might seem pretty tame after this."

"No way," Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Trust me, I'll be fine with whatever you get me."

As the conversation turned back to minor details, such as birthdays and magic, none of the people sitting there could ever have known what would happen in the upcoming year…
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