Case of the Cintimani Stone: A Hammer Mystery

Chapter 2

 Grant had burst into the room ready to fight something but relaxed almost immediately when he saw his son standing there with the letter, his outlook switching to confusion as his wife showed up, saw the envelope and burst into tears.

Grant took the letter from Harry and led his sobbing wife back downstairs and eased her onto the couch. Harry followed numbly and took a seat next to her, more confused by his adoptive mother than the letter. She looked up for a moment and locked eyes with Harry before redoubling her sobs. Grant put the kettle on.

Harry picked the letter up from the end table and broke the wax seal cleanly down the middle, pulling out the letter inside.

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

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry had more questions than answers - starting with the owl. Who trains owls as delivery birds? After that was everything else. Wizards? Witches? Mugwumps? He started to take notes on it. Harry wrote down the two names from the letter into his pocket notebook and began to pace the living room floor. It had jarred something out of place for him - reawoken a desire to know that he had been letting slumber under the guise of normalcy.

Grant appeared from the kitchen with a tray of 3 mugs of tea, while Harry scanned the letter for the eighth time.

"Here, take yours and let me see." He offered up Harry's usual mug. Harry accepted, picking up the mug with the quiver of excitement in his hands as he watched Petunia take hers with shaking hands still overwhelmed by the sudden changes.

"Well - it seems like a fantastically done movie prop." Grant spoke after reviewing the letter and sipping his tea. "But I don't understand why this is so shocking." Harry explained how he had gotten the letter. They both looked to Petunia.

"It's true." Petunia began, dabbing a kleenex at her eyes to stem the tears, "the whole lot. Magic. Witches. Everything. Harry's parents - my sister - they were a witch and a wizard." Grant had the most worried look on his face that conveyed all the doubts he had, but Harry had nothing but questions,

"Are you a... witch? Could grandma and grandad do magic? Where is this school? Is this like that series with Liz Montgomery? Do you know how to train owls?"

Petunia sniffed and blew her nose noisily into the tissue. It was easy to be proud of someone who was so intent on learning the truth. Harry was pacing again, his chin in his hand as he strode the floor thinking about the implication of what she was saying.

"So, mum, you're saying that magic is real. Not just Houdini and sleight of hand but like... Merlin." Who, coincidentally enough was in the letter.

"Yes."

"And my... and Lily was a witch. That James Potter was a wizard."

"Yes."

"How in the name of hair metal and Maggie Thatcher am I supposed to prove that?"

A look of confusion crept over Petunia's face, she wrung the tissue uncertainly like an ingenue caught in her first lie. "Lily had her own owl. I guess it was magic."

"So the owls are magic too?" Harry was almost too quick on the response.

"Calm down," Grant laid a hand on Harry's shoulder before kneeling down in front of his wife, "let her say her side of things. We'll all be better off without subjecting your mother to an inquisition."

Petunia took another deep breath, steeling herself, "I suppose you can write back. It's what I did. When Lily was little and got her letter one of the staff agreed to come and prove it to us." Her voice faltered down to a whisper, "I had hated her for that."

"Er, Harry, take the letter and go to your room and write a polite response asking for proof. I think your mother and I have to talk about this."

Harry took the letter and disappeared around the corner, but took his slow, sweet time making his way up the stairs. He listened as he tiptoed,

"I didn't want it to be this way. I didn't used to be this... pretty, Grant." He heard his mother's words soft and desperate, "I begged Lily for so long and in her sixth year at that school she came back with a potion that made me look like this. You remember when that Dursley boy tried to stalk me? Oh Grant, it was awful but that potion is why we can't-"

Harry had had enough and made his way up the stairs. These were matters well outside his jurisdiction. On the other hand inside his room, it was his space and his rules; in there, he was The Hammer. He went back into his room and got to work on the reply letter, pulling out some lined paper and an envelope he addressed to "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry / UK" and feeling like a fool when he sealed up the letter to Deputy Headmistress McGonagall inside it. Looking around his room, Harry came up with nothing better than to drag his window all the way open and begin calling for the owl that had delivered the original letter.

"Hello? Owl? Hoot? Who? I got a reply letter for Hogwarts!" Harry shouted into his backyard, feeling like an idiot. He saw the street lights shining from the next street over, families watching television in their living rooms.

"Is that you, Harry? You've got a letter?" He heard his neighbor's voice, Mrs. Figg.

"Er, yeah. Always good to hear from a client. I'm trying to figure out how the cow jumped over the moon."

"Did the owl finally deliver your Hogwarts letter? Come over Harry, we can get your reply sent!" Harry almost hit his head on the window. He turned around and picked up his hat from the bed and grabbed the trench coat from the rack. He sped his way down the stairs, hopping three steps at a time and yelling "Just popping over next door to Mrs. Figg! Back soon!" And was out the door before either of his parents could stop him.

By the time he reached Mrs. Figg's front door, she was already there waiting for him.

"Hello, Harry," She extended her hand for the letter and he obliged, "Of all the things - telling you to reply by owl when they know right out that you don't have one. What were they thinking?"

"Er, Mrs. Figg, what do you know about all this?" He hesitated when she grasped his return post, "I'm sorry if I seem a little hesitant."

"Dear, I'm sure whoever they send will be more than happy to answer your questions. Just let this old woman help you and maintain just a drop of mystery." She said with a wink before taking the letter and wishing Harry a good night.

Harry turned around and made the walk back home slow and deliberate. He felt like he was going into shock for the second time in one night. Instead of feeling overwhelmed, he was ecstatic. Back at home his parents questions washed over him like water off a duck's back - he told them that he needed time to digest before the wrongness in the air kicked his brain back into observation mode. His mother had cried more while he was gone as evidenced by the movement of the litter bin next to the sofa and his father's expression told a none too happy story about something. They were adult problems, and with the end of this night, they were his problems.

The Hammer trudged his way up the stairs and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and a marker. He wrote the word "MAGIC?" and circled it for emphasis before pinning it underneath the photo of his biological parents before flopping down onto the bed and passing out.