Sarah rubs her eyes and then gets dressed before hurrying to the kitchen. "What do you need this morning Aunt Petunia?" Her voice is carefully level.

Aunt Petunia purses her lips, looking her over from head to toe when she exits the cupboard under the stairs, then says, "I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

"Yes Aunt Petunia, I'll take care of it." She stands on a chair and handles the pan carefully.

The table's almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looks as though Dudley has gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wants a racing bike is left as an exercise to the reader.

Sarah's Uncle Vernon enters the kitchen as she's turning over the bacon. He ignores her, content to sit on a chair, engulfing it with his backside, and read his newspaper.

She finishes the bacon and serves it out onto plates. She leaves aside a small amount for herself.

Her cousin walks into the kitchen with Aunt Petunia a while later, and, after making sure Sarah doesn't have as many eggs as he does, starts counting his presents, with a huge smile on his face.

Then it falls. "Thirty-six," he says, looking up at his parents. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

 "All right, thirty-seven then," says Dudley, going red in the face.

Sarah carefully doesn't roll her eyes and sets to eating her breakfast, she's fast but takes care to use proper manners as she's doing it.

No one's paying attention to Sarah; all their attention is dedicated to preventing Dudley from exploding.

"And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

Dudley squints and furrows his brows in concentration, then says slowly, "So I'll have thirty... thirty..."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums."

"Oh," he says, sitting back down heavily and grabbing the nearest parcel. "All right, then."

Crisis averted, Vernon chuckles and ruffles Dudley's hair. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!"

The phone rings, and Petunia goes to answer it.

And Dudley starts unwrapping the presents.

Well then, Sarah finishes her breakfast and starts doing the dishes.

Dudley proceeds to unwrap a racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He's ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch—

—when Petunia comes back from the telephone looking angry and worried. "Bad news, Vernon. Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take her," she says, gesturing vaguely in Sarah's direction.

Sarah carefully doesn't look interested and keeps washing the dishes.

Dudley's mouth falls open in horror.

"Now what?" she asks, looking frustratedly at Sarah, as if this was somehow her fault.

Look at Sarah focusing on the dishes. If the silence stretches for a minute she'll turn around.

We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggests before a minute's passed.

"Perhaps... but oh no, she's working today."

"What about what's-her-name, your friend—Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," she says.

Speaking up would not be useful to her. Though she does roll her eyes at the long list of places they think of pushing her off to.

"I suppose we could take her to the zoo," she says slowly, "...and leave her in the car..."

That sounds unpleasant. Hopefully they'd park in the shade if they decided to do that. Otherwise, she might have to do something rash.

"That car's new, she's not sitting in it alone..."

Dudley begins to cry. Or rather, he scrunches up his face and starts wailing—he hasn't really had a real cry in years.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let her spoil your special day!" she says, flinging her arms around him. 

"I... don't... want... her... t-t-to come!" he yells between huge, pretend sobs. "She always sp-spoils everything!" He shoots Sarah a nasty grin through the gap in his mothers arms. 

She knows with that odd sense she sometimes gets that he's not actually upset. She closes her eyes and rolls them where nobody can notice.

The doorbell rings. "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" she says frantically and goes to answer the door.

Dudley immediately stops pretending to cry to welcome his best friend, Piers Polkiss, the one who usually holds Dudley's victims' arms while he punches them.

Vernon goes to greet them—

—and Petunia excuses herself and walks back to the kitchen. "Girl, come here," she tells Sarah, and goes to an out-of-the-way corner.

Sarah follows.

When she's sure no one else will hear, she turns a very stern face to Sarah. "I will be very, extremely put out if—any funny business happens. Do you understand, girl?"

"I understand Aunt Petunia." Sometimes strange things happen around Sarah. Usually it only happens when she's feeling strong emotions. She gets the sense that the Dursleys know more about it than they're telling her, but none of her attempts to control the phenomenon have worked.

Aunt Petunia squints at her and looks about to say something else, but thinks better of it, deciding to just return to the living room to talk to Piers' parents.

Soon enough they're gone and the Dursleys plus Sarah and Piers are to go to the car.

Sarah gets in on one side of the car hoping she won't be forced to take the middle seat between the two boys.

Eventually they reach the zoo where Dudley and his friend were to spend the former's birthday. The Dursleys stop at an ice cream stand in front of the entrance and get large chocolate ice creams to Dudley and Piers, but before they can usher Sarah away the lady inquires as to what she wants.

Sarah asks for an ice pop, it's small enough not to be an imposition, and unlikely to be pushed from her hands by one of the boys.

Uncle Vernon dutifully pays for it and doesn't even complain.

Into the zoo they go.

Sarah stays reasonably close always keeping half an eye on the Dursleys and Piers but keeps her distance a little and tries to enjoy herself.

At lunchtime they eat at the restaurant, and Dudley throws a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory doesn't have enough ice cream on top, so Vernon buys him another one and Sarah's allowed to finish the first.

It's not her favorite but it's still a sweet so she'll finish it gladly.

After lunch, they go to the reptile house. It's cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes are crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly finds the largest snake in the place. It could wrap its body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crush it into a trash can—but at the moment it doesn't look in the mood. In fact, it's fast asleep.

She walks to the tank of one of the poisonous snakes, a small one. "I wonder if you like living here." She muses absently.

The snake raises its head to look at her then very deliberately inclines its head to either side, its oddly expressive face saying something like "Eh, it's not terrible."

Sarah stares. "Did you just answer me?" She asks quietly but incredulously.

The snake pokes out its tongue at her in something her brain parses as snickering then nods, once.

Sarah blinks and then sighs. "Well then, apparently I can talk to snakes, or at least one snake."

Another snicker.

"Can you understand when most people talk or just me?"

"Jussst you," it hisses.

She blinks again. "So I can understand you as well as speak in a way you can understand. Well at least this seems more reproducible than the other weird things that happen around me."

Snakish shrug. "Had not ssspoken to anyone before."

"Yeah, that's not too surprising. I don't know anyone else that's teleported accidentally."

Another snakish shrug. "Do humansss not do that?"

"I've never heard of anyone else doing it."

Single nod.

"What do you eat?"

"Sssmall thingsss. Birdssss. Lizardssss. Micccce. Other ssssnakes."

"I probably couldn't keep you as a pet. I don't think things would be warm enough for you or I'd have enough food for you. I kinda want to anyway but I shouldn't."

"Can hunt. Sssun is good enough. Prefer underground."

"Maybe it could work then, there is still the problem of you being stuck in that tank though. Would you want to be my pet?"

Single nod. "Tank iss boring. Would like to leave. You sssay you 'teleport.'"

"Maybe now that one of my powers is working another one will also get easier. If this works you should coil around one of my legs or something." She concentrates. The snake should be out of the tank.

Nope.

"Ssshame."

"Yeah. Sorry." She realizes that she's forgotten about the Dursleys while talking to the snake. Where are they?

Piers is running right towards her—or towards the snake—and crying, "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!—out of the way, useless," he tells Sarah and pushes her away.

Sarah falls to the floor. It hurts and her eyes water a little but she resolutely doesn't cry.

Dudley waddles towards them as fast as he can, leaning against the glass—

—and then he yelps and jumps back as the glass vanishes.

There's the unreliable weirdness that she knows and hates. She smiles a little despite herself though.

The snake rapidly uncoils itself and slithers out onto the floor. People start screaming and running for the exits, but before it goes it looks at Sarah and says, "I will meet you outsside."

Then on it goes.

She makes a short affirmative sound and picks herself up off the floor.

Onwards it goes.

"Were you talking to it?" Dudley screeches.

"People can't talk to snakes Dudley."

Uncle Vernon does not look convinced.

And the zoo director makes Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea and apologises over and over again, but that's it for them. Back to the car.

By which time Dudley's certain he's been bit and poisoned by the snake.

Sarah lingers a little outside the reptile house. Does the snake manage to find her?

She can see its little head poking out of a bush over there.

She can wander over without looking suspicious.

The snake looks around to make sure they're not seen then slithers out towards her.

"I don't know quite whether we can manage this but if we're trying you need to hide under my dress." She reaches down a hand so she can help it get there faster.

It does.

"Girl! What are you doing over there? Let's go!"

"Yes Aunt Petunia." She hurries to follow.

They get home and by then Vernon's playing along with Dudley and Piers' adventure story. The boy's parents arrive to pick him up soon after, and then he turns his previously concealed fury back to Sarah.

"Go—cupboard—stay—no meals."

Petunia runs over to the kitchen to get him some brandy.

Well this is less than wonderful. She goes to her cupboard. Once she's situated with the light on she turns to her new pet. "I'll let you out in the garden in the morning, or maybe during the night."

The snake nods, and burrows itself amidst the covers.

So the next morning she lets the snake out in the garden while she's walking to school. "I don't know how often I'll be able to visit you. Try not to let humans see you."

The snake nods and slithers away somewhere.

The next time she thinks she can get away with it she'll go hunting in the garden for the snake.

...might be tricky. Once the news gets out that the zoo did not recapture the snake, Uncle Vernon forbid her from leaving the cupboard for anything other than school.

Well she hopes that the snake will be okay without her then.

She's not allowed out until the summer holidays roll out, but the neighbourhood has had markedly fewer incidents with rodents and other small pests.

Well that sounds like the snake is doing alright. She goes looking for it.

It comes out of its carefully hidden hole when she does.

"Hi there, have you been enjoying yourself?"

"Yess and no. Bigger prey, harder to catch."

"I guess nothing is perfect. Do you have a name?"

Headshake.

"Do you want one?"

Nod.

"I think I'll call you Emery if that's alright."

Another nod. "A fine name."

"Do you need anything you don't have?"

"No."

"Mkay, can I pet you?"

"Yess."

And so she pets Emery gently for a while. "I should get going, I'm glad you're doing well Emery."

It bobs its head up and down and slithers away again.

She'll go back to tending the garden. When she's done with that she'll go back inside.

Dudley has already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

The biggest problem with summer holidays is, of course, that Dudley's gang visits every day: Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon, each bigger and stupider than the last, and Dudley, being the biggest and stupidest of the lot, is of course their leader. They mostly give Sarah a wide berth, but when she's around they make loud remarks about the smell and wonder if something died around there. They seem to find this joke hilarious no matter how many times they've made it.

As long as they're confining themselves to words she ignores them, she knows in her strange way that they don't think they're telling the truth.

In September, though, they're all going to secondary school. Dudley and Piers have been accepted to Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings, but Sarah's going to Stonewall High, the local state high school. Dudley finds this hilarious.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he tells Sarah. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"I don't think I'd like putting someone's head in the toilet but thank you for asking." She says softly as she walks out to the garden.

One day in July Aunt Petunia takes Dudley to London to buy his uniform and leaves Sarah at Mrs. Figg's, who seems to have lost some of her erstwhile fondness for her cats given that she broke her leg tripping over one.

That makes some amount of sense. Mrs. Figg has always be nice to her so she tries to be as helpful as she can.

She's such a darling. Yes, she'd love some help, and here, have some chocolate.

(Which tastes like it might be a hundred years old.)

Well, she'll eat it anyway, she's eaten stuff which was much less tasty.

She is such a charming, helpful young lady, and Mrs. Figg is sure to tell her uncle and aunt this when she returns home.

That evening, Dudley parades around the living room for the family in his brand-​new uniform. Smeltings' boys wear maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carry knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers aren't looking. This is supposed to be good training for later life.

That sounds like the sort of thing an insane person would come up with. She very carefully doesn't share this opinion.

There's a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Sarah goes in for breakfast. It seems to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink.

What fresh horror does the Dursley household have in store this time? She wrinkles her nose at the smell but as usual asks. "Do you need any help Aunt Petunia?"

"No, don't touch those, they're to be your uniform."

"Alright." It takes a lot of effort not to roll her eyes at that. For all their dislike of abnormality the Dursleys go really far out of their way to not spend money on her.

Dudley and—

—Uncle Vernon come in, wearing identical expressions of disgust. Uncle Vernon opens his newspaper as usual and Dudley bangs his stick on the table as he's been wont to do lately.

She'll just eat her breakfast and try to stay out of the way.

When breakfast is they hear the click of the mail slot and the flop of letters on the doormat.

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

"Make Sarah get it."

"Get the mail, Sarah."

Sarah gets up and walks down the hall to get the mail.

Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who's vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looks like a bill, and—a letter for Sarah.

Well then, she'll try sneaking that into her cupboard on the way back to the kitchen. No time to think about that now.

No one spares her a glance after she delivers the mail.

"Marge's ill," Uncle Vernon informs Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk..."

When she finishes her breakfast and some of her chores she'll go to her cupboard and open her letter.

The address says:

Ms. S. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey 

It contains two pieces of parchment, folded neatly.

Hm, that's weirdly specific. She unfolds the parchment.

The inside is just as fancy as the outside, written with green ink. The first page reads:

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 Ms. 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 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

"Well then." So the strange things she can do are magic and other magic users want her to go to their school. She isn't sure how she's supposed to get back in touch with them though. She carefully hides the letter beneath her bed and goes looking for paper; she doesn't know how to send a reply but she can at least write one.

Dear Professor Mcgonagall,

I would like to attend your school but I am uncertain where I would obtain the listed materials. Would it be possible for a member of staff to meet me to discuss?

Sincerely,

Sarah Potter

Then she folds the letter and hides it in a pocket and goes outside. Are there any owls hanging around?

It is daytime. There are no owls.

Well then, maybe she'll try again later this evening?

Nope, no owls.

She's not giving up completely but she'd going to give up for today.

The next morning there's mail again.

"Sarah, go fetch the mail."

She'll go to get the mail.

There's only one letter, and it's another copy of the one she got yesterday.

Well, that could be a problem. Nothing for it she'll effect nonchalance and put the letter on the table.

Uncle Vernon glances at the letter—

—then stares, his face going from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights and then all the way to the greyish white of old porridge. "P-P-Petunia!" he gasps.

Dudley's attention is caught, and he tries to grab the envelope.

But Petunia grabs it first, then looks at it and raises a hand to her mouth in shock. She opens it and reads the first line, and stops there.

Sarah keeps her expression carefully neutral but inside she's fuming. Alright, so they knew she had magic and they haven't told her, they're still not going to tell her.

"I want to read that letter!"

"Get out," she whispers, "both of you."

Sarah will leave the room without complaint. She's going to go work in the garden. She needs to do something with her hands.

Dudley has a short-lived fight with his father and is promptly kicked out as well, and the door closes. He immediately puts his ear against the keyhole.

Sarah will keep going towards the garden. The Dursleys probably aren't going to say anything important and she needs some fresh air.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia argue for a bit and then Vernon leaves for work without sparing Sarah a glance.

Sarah goes to read the list of equipment in her cupboard.

The list is also in fancy ink:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM
First-year students will require

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
  The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
  A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
  Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
  A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
  One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
  Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
  Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
  The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT
  1 wand
  1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
  1 set glass or crystal phials
  1 telescope
  1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

Sarah sighs, that's not particularly helpful. No hints whatsoever about where she might make contact with the magical world.

Nope, none.

Well then, maybe she can get up early tomorrow morning and try to catch whoever or whatever is delivering these letters.

She might need to be rather sneaky to do that.

Well, the last two letters were delivered at the normal time. So, her best chance would be to leave during breakfast but before the mail is delivered. If the Dursleys will let her... Maybe she should ask Emery if (s)he could catch an owl without killing it. She goes outside to garden and talk to her pet snake.

Here's Emery!

"Hello Emery, I never asked, are you a boy snake or a girl snake?"

"I am male."

"Alright. Do you think you could catch an owl without killing it?"

"Perhapss."

"Hm, I don't know if we should risk it, the other humans with magic might get mad if you kill their owl."

"I do not have armsss."

"Yeah, it would probably be hard for you to trap an owl wouldn't it. The whole idea is silly."

"I could not inject venom."

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't think they'd do well even if you just bit them. Also, birds can be mean. I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"I can kill all birdsss," he says, sounding affronted.

She laughs, "I don't doubt that, I'm doubting your ability to protect yourself from a bird without killing it."

He makes a noise that's almost like a huff. If it was made by a snake.

She steps over and pets him. "It's alright, you're a very good snake. I just don't think this idea plays to your strengths."

Nod.

Well, given the givens she's just going to have to try to leave breakfast early tomorrow morning.

That evening, after returning home from work, Uncle Vernon knocks on Sarah's cupboard.

"Yes Uncle Vernon?"

"...so, Sarah, about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"That's very generous of you Uncle Vernon."

"—yes. You can move your things."

Sarah ducks back into the cupboard and carefully collects her things, ensuring that the letter and her response are not visible from the outside of the collection. Then she starts to carry everything upstairs.

From upstairs comes the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't want her in there... I need that room... make her get out..."

Sarah will take the stairs carefully with an eye to making sure Dudley doesn't come rushing past and try to push her down.

He's too busy throwing a tantrum.

Well then she'll make it to the top of the stairs in peace. She peeks into the second bedroom; is Dudley inside?

No Dudley.

Then she'll put her stuff down inside and start tidying up. How much of a mess is it?

Extremely so. All of Dudley's old games and broken objects are there.

Well then, she'll start sorting for anything salvageable. Anything that isn't, she'll put to the side as neatly as possible. If the Dursleys will let her she'll bag up the broken remnants later.

Meanwhile Dudley screams, whacks his father with his Smelting stick, is sick on purpose, kicks his mother, and throws his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, all to no avail; his parents don't budge.

Poor tortoise. Why did the Dursleys let him have a pet anyway? Sarah just shakes her head and continues her cleaning. Does anything look to be salvageable?

It's Dudley's, if she does anything to it he'll throw a fit but of course he'll never actually do anything with it.

Well worst case it'll be a peace offering to him. She can seek clarification from his parents once she's finished organizing it all.

Well it's getting late...

Then she'll leave the rest of the cleanup for tomorrow and try to get some sleep.

No one bothers her.

She'll get up and get dressed early. She hides her reply letter under her clothes in case she gets a chance to send it. Presumably they won't have installed locks on the outside of her door so she'll set about the beginnings of making breakfast.

They have not done such—she is free to begin her chores, although Aunt Petunia is an early riser as well.

"You're up early."

"I wanted to make sure that breakfast was good today as a thank you for my new room."

"—well. Go along, then."

Sarah sets herself to making breakfast.

And Petunia busies herself with something.

Sarah, eats food as she hurries to make breakfast before Uncle Vernon shows up. Though she's careful not to burn any of the food.

Aunt Petunia goes upstairs.

Sarah will set the food on the table and then make her way out the kitchen door to the garden. Then she'll carefully circle around to the front of the house.

It is as she remembers it.

She'll busy herself gardening, or at least looking like she's gardening, but keep an eye on the vicinity of the front door and frequently glance at the sky for owls.

Here's one.

She jumps up and runs over to the door to intercept it. She'll hold out an arm and offer it as a perch. "Can you take a reply for me?"

The owl looks at her and hoots in confusion, but flies down to her arm and offers her one of its feet, which already had a letter attached.

Sarah takes her reply out and asks, "Can you take this to Professor McGonagall?"

Hoot.

It was too much to hope that her new talent for talking to animals would extend to mail delivery owls. Sarah exchanges the letter tied to the owl's leg for her reply. "Thank you."

It hoots again and takes off.

She hides the letter under her dress and goes back to gardening for real. It's probably the same as the last one but it won't hurt to check.

Petunia sticks her head out the window. "What are you doing out there, girl?"

"Gardening, it's starting to get hot in the afternoons so I wanted to get an early start."

"Well, come inside! You can do that after breakfast."

Sarah already ate but she nods. "Yes Aunt Petunia," then dutifully walks inside dusting the dirt off of her clothes.

And to Uncle Vernon's unvoiced satisfaction there are no letters today.

Well, she's very glad that the Dursleys have only seen one letter.

Dudley's in a sour mood, banging walls and objects with his stick.

Sarah tries to stay well out of his reach and eats more breakfast.

Vernon goes to work and Dudley waits for his friends to arrive.

Sarah goes off to her room to inspect the second letter.

It's identical to the first.

Then she'll hide it with the first and continue working on tidying up her new room.

No more letters arrive over the next couple of days.

Hopefully that's because they got her reply. When she has a convenient moment she'll ask Petunia about what do with all the broken toys.

"I'll get them," she says, and does, taking them downstairs, and Dudley throws a tantrum about that.

"Thank you Aunt Petunia." Her room is neat now, that's what's important. What's left with the broken things cleared away?

A bed. A wardrobe. A small desk. A chair. A beside table. A lamp.

Hm, did she notice any loose floorboards while tidying up? Does the bed or any of the other furniture have spaces underneath it that are hard to see into? She needs somewhere to hide the letters and it'll be suspicious if she doesn't hang up her clothes.

No loose floorboard, yes space under the bed.

Sarah slides the letters under the bed and puts away her clothes in the wardrobe. Then she'll go do chores and live her life normally until something upsets her routine.

It's almost like she's prescient.

Uncle Vernon is reading when there is the sudden sound of an extremely loud motorcycle followed by a pause and a somewhat less loud, thunderous knock on the door, like someone hit it with a tree, causing him to startle bad enough to knock his brandy over.

Sarah allows herself to look surprised but otherwise doesn't react.

Petunia walks over to the door and opens it—

—and nearly faints on the spot. "V-Vernon!"

On the other side of the door there is the largest man Sarah has ever laid eyes on, his head nearly completely obscured by a shaggy mane as black as his eyes. "Good evening! Mighty hard ter walk around here without bein' noticed."

This seems plausibly related to the magic people. Sarah is looking forwards to this. "Hello."

"P-Petunia! Stand back!" he cries, interposing himself between his wife and the giant man.

Dudley shows up from upstairs to see what all the ruckus is about and squeals in terror when he sees the man.

"Well, did no one ever teach yeh manners? Aren't yeh gonna invite me in?" And without waiting for an answer he squeezes through the door and closes it behind himself. He's carrying a large purple umbrella in spite of the complete lack of rain outside. "So. Yer Sarah, eh?"

"I am. It's nice to meet you. May I ask your name?"

"I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

"I will not have that name spoken in this household!" Uncle Vernon says, going red in the face.

Sarah thinks, it's probably better that the Dursleys don't know she sent a reply if she can avoid it. "Are you here to talk to me then? Perhaps it would be better if we spoke elsewhere. My uncle can be very passionate at times."

"Oh no, we should talk to him, too. What name? Mine?"

"No! That—that other one."

"...Hogwarts?" He blinks, then looks at Sarah. "Did they ne'er tell yeh?"

"They prefer not to talk about my having magic."

"Don't say that word! Not in my house!" He puffs out his chest, faces Hagrid down—up—and says, "I demand that you leave my property at once!"

"Ah yeh do? And what'll a great muggle like yeh do about it?"

Sarah is not going to interrupt the two arguing adults.

Uncle Vernon doesn't seem to have anything to say to that.

And Petunia seems to just be frozen in horror.

"So! Sarah!" he says, making his way to the sofa and sitting on it, causing it to groan dangerously.

(Petunia makes a very similar noise to it when that happens.)

"What would you like to talk about?"

"Well, Hogwarts, o' course! Professor McGonagall was very confused when we got yer letter. Yeh said yeh didn't know how ter get yer things there, but yeh sent it!"

She winces. "I met one of the owls as it was delivering the third letter. I sent my reply that way."

"Third?"

"Well but why did yeh need to. Didn't yer aunt and uncle take yeh ter Diagon Alley when yeh got yer first letter?"

"They didn't see the first or the third letter. I don't think they would have been open to talking me to Diagon Alley if they indeed know where that is."

"...yeh don't know? Ah, o' course not, these muggles wouldn't—well, but they know how to send these letters back, no?" he asks, looking at Uncle Vernon.

He glares at the giant. "All these years, we swore we'd stamp this out of her, we won't—"

He's interrupted by Hagrid's guffaws. "Stamp it out? Of Sarah Potter? Are yeh mad?"

"It said that you expected an owl and it didn't have a stamp on it so I guessed that it was also delivered by owl, and after the second letter I expected there might be a third."

He nods. "And what did these muggles tell yeh ter convince yeh not to go ter Hogwarts?"

"They haven't told me anything about magic. Everything I know I figured out myself."

He blinks a couple of times.

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he says. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

So the story the Dursleys have told her about her parents being lazy drunks who died in a car crash was as wrong as she thought it was. "They haven't told me much about my parents. I wasn't aware they were famous."

"DURSLEY!" He explodes, turning to look at them and causing Dudley to squeal louder and run upstairs. "So yeh've never told her nothin' at all? Never told her what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer her? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you’ve kept it from her all these years?"

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!"

"I don't think yelling is helping matters Mr Hagrid."

"But they—they never told yeh—never—yeh don't know anything'!"

"Magic is not the only important thing in the world."

"Well—no but—yer parents, Sarah! Yer world!"

"I'd be happy to have you tell me about those things."

"I said and I repeat, I will not be having any of this nonsense in my house!"

"Aye, yeh big prune, yeh won't, 'cause Sarah's learnin' all that at Hogwarts not here." He turns to Sarah again. "I can't teach yeh ev'rythin, that's what Hogwarts is fer, but I can tell yeh some things."

"I'd be happy to hear whatever you feel capable of explaining. I've mostly only done magic by accident and I can't seem to reproduce the things that happen by accident."

He suddenly looks much more anxious and subdued. "Blimey, I never expected this," he says, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Sarah, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh—but someone's gotta—yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'." He throws a dirty look at the Dursleys. "Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh—mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..."

"I don't know what you're referring to, I can always learn more details later."

He shakes his head. "No, ev'ryone else will know, yeh should too... Blimey... It begins, I suppose, with—with a person called—but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows—

"His name—I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"I understand that it's uncomfortable but I would like to know."

He makes a face, looks around, then says, "Voldemort." He shudders. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this—this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too—some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Sarah. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him—an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway."

Sarah pays close attention and makes understanding noises.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an'—an'—"

Hagrid suddenly pulls out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blows his nose with a sound like a foghorn. 

(Petunia makes a disgusted face at that.)

"And he killed them." Sarah's voice is gentle and shaking just a little. This is why she was raised by the Dursleys instead of loving parents.

He nods. "An' then—an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing—he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh—took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even—but it didn't work on you, an' that’s why yer famous, Sarah. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age—the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts—an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

 As Hagrid's story comes to a close, Sarah sees the blinding flash of green light that sometimes haunts her dreams, more clearly than she has ever remembered it before—and she remembers something else, for the first time in her life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

"I think I remember."

"Nonsense, yeh were jus' a baby... Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," says Uncle Vernon, glaring at Hagrid, his fists clenched. "Now, you listen here, girl," he snarls, looking at Sarah, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured—and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion—asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types—just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end—"

Hagrid leaps from the sofa and draws his battered pink umbrella, pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword. "I'm warning you, Dursley—I'm warning you—one more word..."

"I'd prefer you not curse them. They aren't the nicest people but at least for the moment I have to live with them."

Sarah's request notwithstanding, Hagrid's threat makes Uncle Vernon lose all his nerve and flatten himself against a wall.

Hagrid nods. "Well." He looks at Sarah. "And after that night... You-Know-Who disappeared. Vanished. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful—why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Sarah. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on—I dunno what it was, no one does—but somethin' about you stumped him, all right," he finishes, looking at Sarah with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes

"Alright." She smiles back. "So, what now, do we go shopping? How do I get to Hogwarts?"

"Haven't I told you you're not going?" Uncle Vernon hisses. "You're going to Stonewall High and be grateful for it. I've read that letter and you need all sorts of rubbish—spell books and wands and—"

"If she wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop her," growls Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's daughter goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Her name's been down ever since she was born. She's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and she won't know herself. She'll be with youngsters of her own sort, fer a change, an' she'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled—"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HER MAGIC TRICKS!" yells Uncle Vernon. 

But he has finally gone too far. Hagrid seizes his umbrella and whirls it over his head. "NEVER—" he thunders, "—INSULT—ALBUS—DUMBLEDORE—IN—FRONT—OF—ME!" He waves the umbrella up to point it at Uncle Vernon, hitting him with a yellow flash of light—

—and he proceeds to puke a huge fat worm on the carpet.

Petunia screams—whether because of what happened or because of where it happened is unclear.

"Is he going to be alright?"

Uncle Vernon goes to the bathroom, followed by his wife, who throws a last glance at the ruined carpet before closing the door behind them.

"Aye... it'll pass. He just needs ter wait a bit." He sure does look embarrassed, though.

That seems appropriate. "So, you mentioned something about Diagon Alley? Is that where I'm supposed to be getting my school supplies?"

"Aye. It's where ev'ryone gets their school stuff." Pause. "Ah... be grateful if yeh didn't mention that lil' magic ter anyone at Hogwarts. I'm—er—not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff—one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job—"

"Alright, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble," she won't be forgetting that fact though. "Should we go then?"

He nods. "Aye. Although—it's late. Yeh should sleep."

"I suppose we have a guest room you could stay in my by aunt and uncle might not be comfortable with that and the bed is probably too small for you."

"Eh? No, no, I have a place ter sleep, I'll jus' come back tomorrow."

"Okay." Sarah's voice is tinged with worry. The Dursleys have never seemed quite this provoked. That said Hagrid does not seem likely to be able to deescalate the situation. Still, just this once, maybe the devil she doesn't know will be better. "I'm a little worried about my uncle. He seems awfully upset."

"Ah, don' worry about that sack o' potatoes, Dumbledore's made it very clear what would happen if summat bad happened to yeh."

She's starting to wonder if she's jumping out of the frying pan into the fire. Threats are not something that should be needed to motivate someone to care about their ward. "Alright."

"Well, then. I guess I'll be by tomorrow."

"I'm looking forwards to it." Despite all the weird mixed signals she's getting, she is. Hagrid seems to be a nice man. His temper is a little scary, but at least he seems embarrassed about losing it. She's less sure about this Dumbledore character who apparently threatened the Dursleys into taking her in.

The Dursleys absolutely avoid her all night and don't come out of their rooms in the morning.

She'll make breakfast for herself and wait for Hagrid to show up.

Eventually there is a knock.

Sarah goes to the door and opens it. "Hello Hagrid."

"Mornin'! Oh, that smells good, did yeh make that?"

"I do a lot of the cooking. I'm sorry I didn't make enough for guests. I can make more if you like."

"Nah, I already ate, but thank yeh. Ready?"

"Sure, I have my ingredient list. Is there anything else I need to bring?"

"Nah, that's all."

"Alright, how are we getting there?"

He gestures outside at a rather enormous motorcycle.

"Nice motorcycle." Does it have a sidecar?

Yep! She'll fit in there nicely. He offers her a helmet.

She puts on the helmet. "I'm ready."

He gets on the bike, puts on his own helmet, accelerates—

—and the motorcycle starts slowly going up into the air.

Magic is awesome. "This is really cool."

He beams at her, and accelerates more. Soon they're high enough they could probably be confused with birds, but somehow it's not cold up there.

Magic is awesome. "So Hagrid, I teleported by accident once, is that something people can learn to do on purpose?"

"Aye, it's called Apparition. Yeh can learn that after yeh turn seventeen."

"That seems like a long time from now but ok. Can magical people talk to animals? I can only talk to snakes."