The Brightest Star Of The Darkest Night

2. I Am A What?

The Goblin stared, and Harry stared right back.

The Goblin stared harder, so he began staring back even harder.

Huffing, the goblin turned away, making Harry almost grin in victory...until the goblin barked at another goblin in the room and then rounded on him, they started to poke him with their long fingers that were pointy.

"Hey!" He protested, flinching away as he felt something strange was happening around him. Some sort of waves rose, circling him and wrapping him in their tendrils. "What is happening?" He yelled, trying to duck their attacks and sit up. 

"Stop fighting the Magic, child." Healer Sharptooth barked, pushing him back to bed, "I am trying to cast a diagnostic charm to know how much memory you've lost."

"My memory is just fine." He snapped, "And what are you talking about? What charm? Magic doesn't exist." After saying that, he stopped short. Why did he sound like he was lisping and hissing again? Thank god his aunt and uncle were not there to hear him. With their blank look, he knew the Goblins didn't understand him either.

He sighed and repeated the words, taking care to speak English this time. Nobody ever understood him when he switched to the lisping language unintentionally. It made the Dursleys beat him even harder, declaring it to be 'abnormal'.

The goblin froze, stopping his poking for once and ignoring his lisp, "Who says magic doesn't exist?"

"It doesn't." He confirmed. "Uncle Vernon says so."

The goblin gave him a nasty smile, looking at him with sharp eyes, "I see. Then what is your name, child?"

 "I am Freak."

Healer Sharptooth froze, then narrowed his eyes, "Beg your pardon?"

He cleared his throat, "My name is Freak. Freak er, Dursley, I guess." He gave a helpless shrug. He didnt know if he even had a last name, but that was his aunt and uncles so it made sense that he would share it as well.

Whatever he said it seemed to unnerve the 'goblin' as he shifted uncomfortably, exchanging significant looks with the other ones. "Listen to me Harry," Sharptooth looked at him, "First of all, your name is Harry. Not freak. Your 'uncle' is a nuisance to society who should be locked in Azkaban." He growled, which sent a cold shiver down Harrys back.

 "Harry." He muttered in awe, "My name is Harry." He repeated, too stunned by the discovery to notice what the Sharptooth had said about his uncle.

"Yes, you're Harry." Sharptooth confirmed patiently, "Secondly, magic does exist. It's just well hidden from non-magical people for the well-being of both Magicals and Muggles."

"Really?" He - Harry, his name is - if what he said was true - interrupting, unable to hold on "Magic exists? And whose well-being? I don't understand, I am afraid."

"You would understand better, given you were left with those Muggle filths." Sharptooth spat the words out. "The way they beat you and starve you when you displayed accidental Magic."

Harry's brain was swarming trying to catch up with what he said. "Muggles?"

"Muggles are what we call the non-magical people."

"I see," He - Harry gulped, looking down at his hands, "And so you're saying I am a - what? Magical? Wiggle?"

"Wizard is the actual term," Sharptooth said with a smile. "You must remember doing something extraordinary? Something you can't explain to others."

"I do." Harry nodded, "I remember how Aunt Petunia tried to cut my hair again and again and it grew back overnight every time. I also remember, just a day ago. I was running from Dudley and somehow appeared on the roof of his school. Uncle Vernon was not happy."