3 August 1991, Saturday afternoon
After Hermione left, Harry tried to visit some attractions. He soon found out that summer weekends, or maybe all summer days, were not the best time for that. London was crowded with tourists, who stood in endless queues to gain entry to the main attractions. Harry could probably sneak to the head of some lines, being a child; he could probably claim to have lost his group or something similar, but he didn't feel like cheating unnecessarily. He visited some of the minor attractions instead, where the queues were short or non-existent. Two small art museums filled his afternoon. He didn't particularly like most paintings or other objects on display, but he found a few quite interesting. Still, visiting a museum was certainly very different and much better than spending the afternoon with his relatives.
An owl was waiting on the window sill when he returned to his room. "I'm leaving England tomorrow. I'd like to meet you once more before that. I'll wait for you at the caféwhere we first met. Please come at about seven. Bill." The handwriting seemed rushed, but quite neat. Harry glanced at his new watch, bought a few days earlier, and noticed that he still had some time to spend. He wondered what Bill wanted to talk to him about, but it was futile to guess. Instead, he took the etiquette book and read a few chapters until it was time to go to the café.
Bill was already there and seemed glad to see him. He hugged Harry in a brotherly manner and then ordered a large dinner for him. "You're still too thin. You need to eat better. Please make sure to have three full meals every day, and eat healthily – a lot of vegetables and fruits and not too much sugar and fat." He then chuckled. "I don't think my mother would appreciate this advice. She cooks with a lot of fat and sugar and not enough fresh products, but it's still delicious."
Speaking about his mother seemed to affect him unexpectedly. Bill frowned and added, "Actually, it's some discussions I've overheard there that made me want to meet you before I leave. Let's have you finish your meal first, before discussing that."
Bill only took a cup of tea. "I had dinner at home, and I feel overstuffed," he explained.
While Harry ate, Bill told him some more about the magical society, its prejudices and its preconceived ideas. It was clear that Bill didn't like most of them but felt unable to change much. He returned to the main reason for this meeting as Harry reached the dessert. "I'm not sure if I've told you about my family, except for some funny incidents. I'm the oldest child of my parents. I have five younger brothers and a little sister – the youngest child. My youngest brother, Ron, is about your age and will go to Hogwarts in September, like you. My sister will only go next year. Three of my brothers are still at school: Percy, who is quite a stickler for rules and is now a prefect, and the twins, Fred and George. They are quite funny but they tend to overdo their pranking. Never trust anything they tell you, and never eat anything they give you if you don't want to be laughed at."
He turned more serious. "My mother is a fierce follower of Dumbledore. He is considered the leader of the light faction in the wizarding world, although he has no official title as such. Dumbledore is a great man, I agree, but like all great leaders, his mistakes are also great."
"What do you mean by that?" Harry wondered.
Bill smiled. "If you, or I, make a mistake – it normally only affects us, or possibly, our closest family. When a leader makes a mistake, it may affect many people and have some grave consequences; it may cost lives; it may cost livelihood; it may affect the future of our whole country, in some cases."
Harry nodded his understanding. Bill went on.
"What I heard my mother telling Ron was that he should try to become your friend and make sure to tell everything to Dumbledore, as the old man deems you very important for some reason."
Harry frowned. While he didn't have much to hide, he didn't like being spied on either.
"Unfortunately, Ron is not very smart, to say the least. He's probably going to follow her orders, unable to think for himself. Knowing my family, he's probably going to be sorted into Gryffindor. Based on your family's history, it's quite probable that you'll also end up there. Now, don't get me wrong. Ron can be a very good friend, but he needs guidance and you can't trust him to keep your secrets. Of course, this may all be a moot point if you get sorted into a different house. You seem to be smart enough for Ravenclaw, and cunning enough for Slytherin, but I don't know which are your defining characteristics."
Bill seemed to lose himself in some thinking. Harry found it the right time to finish his dessert.
"Do you know how to get to the Hogwarts Express?" Bill asked him.
"Hagrid said it's all on the ticket. I know I need to go to Kings Cross station."
Bill sighed. "Do you think you can find platform 9 on your own?"
Harry frowned. He had not yet looked at the contents of the envelope, but he was sure that no normal station would have a platform numbered in fractions.
Bill chuckled. "I thought so. Well, it's a hidden platform, only accessible to magical folks. There's a barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Muggles can't pass through it, but you can just go through as if it's thin air. We were normally told to run into it, as the sensation of almost bumping into a wall is quite frightening, but you can walk in just as well, along with your luggage."
Harry nodded understandingly. He would have never thought of going through a wall as the way to access that platform.
Bill frowned as he continued talking. "It looks like Dumbledore has intentionally left out that explanation from what Hagrid passed to you, intending you to look around and wait for somebody to help you. That somebody is supposed to be my mother and Ron, thus assuring that you can become friends even before reaching Hogwarts. He was also instructed to make sure you disliked all houses except Gryffindor, thus making your sorting to that house more probable."
Harry didn't like the idea, but he needed to ask, "What if I'm sorted into some other house?"
"In that case, Ron would be unable to spy on you and Dumbledore would have less influence on you, but you could do well anywhere. Some say that Slytherins are all bad. That's nonsense if you ask me. There were bad people and good people in all the houses. It so happens that the last Dark Lord was a Slytherin, but his followers came from all houses just the same."
Bill glanced at the clock on the wall behind the bar. "It's getting late and I still need to finish packing. I don't know when I'll be able to meet you again. I hope I gave you a good enough start so you'll be able to do well on your own."
"You did very well, Bill. I don't know how to even thank you properly," Harry said with a lot of emotion.
"Thank you, Harry. I only hope that my mother and Ron won't come between us. They don't know anything about the help I've given you and you shouldn't mention it either."
Harry smiled. "That's actually my secret. Why should I tell anybody?"
Bill chuckled. "Fine. Let me walk you back to your hotel and pay for the rest of the month. It's your money, actually, from your vault, so you don't need to thank me. It's a part of the service Gringotts is giving you."
Just too soon, Harry was left alone again. He went to his room, took a long hot bath and thought about all he had learned. He was glad that Bill was so trustworthy. He hoped that Hermione would prove to be the same. He was sad that he couldn't trust others of the Weasley family but was glad of the warning. At least Bill was nice. He wished Bill could stay some more. Bill had become a kind of big brother for Harry and he knew he would miss him. He looked forward to Monday, though. He was sure to pass the warning to Hermione.
4 August 1991, Sunday
Sunday turned out to be a dreary day, with constant rain and no sunshine at all. After breakfast, Harry just returned to his room, took a book, and cuddled under the blanket. That was also a first – he had never been allowed to laze around when with the Dursley.
Harry was awakened by the phone ringing. He looked around and saw it on the nightstand, near his head. He lifted the handset and sleepily answered, "Hello?"
"Are you still in bed?" he heard Hermione's voice and a giggle.
"I didn't feel like going out in such a weather so I went back to my room after breakfast. Looks like I fell asleep again."
He heard some soft giggling. "Guess what? My parents are taking me to the theatre for a matinée and I made them buy another ticket for you. We'll come to collect you in front of the hotel in about an hour. Isn't that exciting?"
"Yes, it is, and thank you for thinking of me…"
"That's what friends are for," she cut in.
"Well, sure. Do you have any suggestions for what I should wear for the theatre?"
"Not really. Just something nice. And a rainproof overcoat, don't forget!"
He felt like laughing. "I won't. How will I know your car?"
"It's Mum's car – hot red with a wavy yellow stripe on the doors. You can't miss it."
Half an hour later, Harry was already standing by the door and looking at the soaked street, yet it was almost another half hour later when he saw the red car stopping as close to the hotel's door as possible. Harry pulled up his hood and ran to the car, whose back door opened even before he touched it.
"Wow! You're all wet despite having to cross only a few feet," Hermione said as he closed the door behind him.
Her father, who sat in the front, reminded him, "Please put your seatbelt on, so we can move."
Harry obliged, and they moved away. Hermione chatted happily with him, but Harry was just too aware of the two pairs of eyes that were glancing at him through the front mirror. He hoped he would make a good enough impression on her parents so they would let her keep meeting him.
They only drove for a bit longer. They parked in an underground parking lot, but they still had to walk a bit on the street to reach their destination. Harry was thankful for the large umbrellas both adults were carrying, giving them all some shelter from the rain. Once at the theatre, Hermione's father went to the ticket office to retrieve their reserved tickets, while her mother tried to wipe as much of the wetness out of their clothes. It was only after her father returned with the tickets that Hermione made the formal introductions:
"Mum, Dad, this is my friend Harry Potter. He's going to start school along with me. Hopefully, we will end up in the same house. Harry, these are my parents, David and Jean Granger. They're both dentists."
Harry shook hands with both adults. "Enchanted to meet you," he said politely.
"We're glad to meet Hermione's friend," Jean said, smiling at him.
"You may call me Dave," her father said. "David sounds too formal."
"Thank you," Harry responded. "I'd like to pay for my ticket if you don't mind. I can afford it."
Dave smiled. "Don't you want to give me the pleasure of inviting my daughter's friend? I believe you'll have many more chances to buy tickets, maybe for Hermione as well."
Harry blushed at the implied long-term friendship. He had never had a friend before, if only due to Dudley. He appreciated any friendship, even a short-term one.
Hermione's parents didn't badger them with questions. They were content to look at the various posters in the entrance hall and let the children talk to each other until the doors to the performance hall opened. They then herded the children in and took their places. Harry was surprised to see they had very good seats, probably quite expensive too.
"What are we going to see?" Harry asked. He hadn't minded it before, when it was merely an attractive idea, but now, that it was becoming real, this seemed a legitimate question.
"It's a new remake of My Fair Lady – a new cast, a new director, but it is supposed to stay true to the classical interpretation," Dave told him. Harry nodded as if it made sense to him, although he didn't really know anything about it. He only knew that it was a famous musical, and even that was due to overhearing some children talk.
He looked around, noticing the orchestra located below the stage, the elegant lamps, the chandeliers hanging above and the decorated walls. It was all new to him.
Hermione seemed oblivious to his state of mind. She chatted happily about this and that, and Harry nodded occasionally, when he thought it was expected, or said, "yes," and "sure," without really paying much attention. He was just too excited to do anything else. Soon enough he heard the gong, the lights were dimmed and the orchestra started playing.
Three hours later he still felt enchanted. He liked it much better than anything he had seen before. Nothing that he had managed to glimpse at on the television when living with his relatives, or what he watched leisurely at the hotel, was even close to the feeling that this live performance gave him.
"Thank you so much for taking me to the theatre! It's the most beautiful experience I ever had," he said to the Grangers.
Dave smiled at him. "I'm glad you liked it, but it's all Hermione's work, really. She chose the play and she insisted on inviting you. As you can see, your company also made her happy."
Hermione certainly looked happy, and that made her even more beautiful. He liked to see her happy.