Accio Paintbrush

"I'm a what?" Harry asked, though he already knew the answer. The memories of his past life had prepared him for this moment, yet hearing it spoken aloud made his heart race.

"A wizard," Hagrid beamed, sitting back on the sofa, which groaned and sank under his weight. "An' a thumpin' good one, I'd wager, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be?"

Vernon's protests and Petunia's bitter revelations about Lily washed over Harry like background noise. His mind was racing, calculating. In his previous life, he'd learned that information was power, and right now, Hagrid was a fountain of it – though perhaps not an entirely unbiased one.

"But why wasn't I told?" Harry asked carefully, watching Hagrid's reactions. "About being a wizard, about my parents, about any of it?"

Hagrid's face darkened with anger directed at the Dursleys, but Harry caught something else in his expression – a flicker of discomfort, quickly hidden. "Professor Dumbledore thought–" Hagrid began.

Ah, Harry thought. There it is.

As Hagrid launched into the tale of Voldemort and that fateful Halloween night, Harry listened intently, noting what was said and, more importantly, what wasn't. This Dumbledore had left him on a doorstep in November. Had arranged for him to live with people who locked him in a cupboard. Had, apparently, decided he should grow up knowing nothing of his heritage or his parents' sacrifice.

"–greatest wizard in the world, Dumbledore is. Best thing fer yeh, keeping yeh away from all that until yeh were ready," Hagrid was saying proudly.

Harry nodded, his face a careful mask of innocent acceptance. Inside his mind, though, questions multiplied like his Hogwarts letters. Why had no one checked on him? Why had this powerful wizard allowed him to suffer years of neglect? And most importantly – what did Dumbledore want from him now?

"So what happens next?" Harry asked, letting a bit of his genuine excitement show. After all, regardless of any hidden agendas, this was his chance to learn real magic.

Hagrid pulled out a rather battered envelope – the same one Harry had tried so many times to get hold of. As Harry read through his acceptance letter, his mind was already working several steps ahead. The list of required materials was extensive, and while he knew he had his gold bars safely stored in his Inventory, he couldn't exactly reveal those to Hagrid.

"Hagrid," he said, looking up with carefully crafted concern, "I haven't got any money. And Uncle Vernon won't pay for me to learn magic."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything? First stop fer us is Gringotts – wizards' bank."

Perfect. Access to the wizarding financial system was exactly what Harry needed.

As Hagrid explained about Gringotts' security (dragons? Interesting...), Harry was already planning. He'd need to make a separate trip, alone, once he understood how everything worked. The gold bars in his Inventory could set him up quite nicely if exchanged carefully. And with resources of his own, independent of any school fund or monitored account, he'd have options.

When Hagrid finally wrote his note to Dumbledore ("Given him his letter. Taking him to buy his things tomorrow. Weather's horrible. Hope you're well."), Harry had made up his mind. He would go with Hagrid tomorrow, play the role of the wide-eyed newcomer, and learn everything he could. But afterward... well, Diagon Alley seemed like the kind of place that would reward independent exploration.

"Best get some sleep," Hagrid said, taking off his thick black coat and throwing it to Harry. "We've got a busy day tomorrow."

As Harry lay under Hagrid's warm coat, listening to the storm outside, he thought about trust. In his previous life, he'd learned that true loyalty had to be earned, not assumed. This Dumbledore might be powerful, might even have good intentions, but leaving a baby on a doorstep spoke volumes about his methods.

No, Harry decided, he would keep his cards close to his chest. His artistic abilities, his Inventory, his memories – these were advantages no one knew about, and he intended to keep it that way. He would learn what this world had to teach him, but he would do it on his own terms.

Tomorrow would be just the beginning. He closed his eyes, and in his mind, he began to sketch out plans for his future – this time, on a canvas of his own choosing.