Harry and the snake bond over their shared traumas. The snake tells Harry he was bred in captivity, and Harry goes, “That’s me too. I never knew my parents either.” Which had to have bugged the shit out of the snake because that’s not what “bred in captivity” means at all. That’s like when you tell someone your dad died and they nod and say they understand how you feel because they really miss their cat when they’re at work. Like, sorry your parents got murdered by a magician, but “bred in captivity” involves the kidnapping, imprisonment, forced insemination, and slavery of your entire family, sweetie! Look it up!
Harry uses his secret wizard emotions to make the glass disappear, so the snake is like, “Bye, I’m going to slither to Burma.” Okay, good luck with all of Europe, the Middle East, Central Asia, and the Indian subcontinent. I’m sure you’ll make it, though!
Now it’s Harry’s birthday, and for the first time in his life, he gets a letter in the mail. Mesmerized, this dumbass brings the letter into the dining room like he’s never met his own family before. Uncle Vernon of course confiscates it, fatly, but the letters keep coming! Thousands and thousands of them! Uncle Vernon has no choice but to Airbnb a shack on a crag in the middle of the ocean and drag his weeping family there because no wizard could possibly check his browser history and figure out where they went. (Actually, that is true. Wizards are constantly roasting “Muggle technology,” meanwhile their best method of long-distance communication is sticking your face in a fire and hoping your friend happens to be in the kitchen at the time. But yeah, fellytones are stupid!)
The Dursleys are all asleep. Harry’s making himself a birthday cake out of dirt, which is also his bed. Just then, a giant wild man rips the door off its hinges and barges into the crag shack, which we’re expected to think is very cool! (IDK, I kind of feel like Muggles should have some rights, even if they’re dicks?) It’s Hagrid, and he’s brought Harry a real cake and an invitation to Hogwarts.
“Of course you know all about Hogwarts.”
“I’m sorry, no.”
If you thought Harry knew all about Hogwarts, then why did you hunt this family down and break into their house????
Even in the moment when his whole family is being terrorized by a giant, fatboy Dudley can’t stop himself from plunging his face directly into the cake and omph momph gromph skromph. As a fat woman, this moment of cultural representation moved me deeply. My uncle got straight up killed by a dog at his own wedding and I was still like, “So, uh, when we gonna slice into this baby?? Don’t keep Mama waiting!!!!!!”
Hagrid takes Harry back-to-school shopping in Diagon Alley, which is a top-secret wizards-only neighborhood in London. Here’s another thing I don’t get: If wizards live in London (and as we know, Hogsmeade is the only all-wizard village in England, so most wizards must live in Muggle settlements!), why don’t they understand anything about Muggle culture? They’re surrounded by millions of Muggles every day! You’re telling me they never need to use Muggle money to get a sandwich or take a bus? They can’t get a basic handle on Muggle clothes? Mr. Weasley walks through giant crowds of Muggles every day on his way to work and still thinks he needs to wear an umpire’s chest protector and teal yoga pants and a baby’s christening bonnet and a Hula-Hoop just to pick Harry up from the bus stop? What are all the kids wearing on the Hogwarts Express before they “change into their school robes”? I am going to die of this.
Harry buys a magic wand from John Hurt, considered by many to be the greatest actor of his generation, who really takes his twelve seconds of screen time talking nonsense to a child TO THE LIMIT. Hagrid buys Harry an owl as a present. They visit the bank, which is run by hook-nosed goblins with rubber hands (YIKES), so Hagrid can do some secret Hogwarts business. Harry admires the Nimbus 2000 in a shop window even though four seconds ago he didn’t know that flying brooms existed. He is taking all of this in stride to a degree that, again, is disturbing.
That trend continues when Hagrid casually tells Harry that his parents were murdered by an evil wizard named Voldemort, who also tried to murder Harry, and probably still wants to ASAP. Harry’s like, “Wow.” Then Hagrid takes him to the train station and dumps him there! Alone! With no information except for “platform 9 and ¾” and “the evilest wizard of all time wants you dead, bye.” Because he’s “gotta meet Dumbledore.” Oh, yeah, if only there was a train named after Dumbledore’s house that was going directly from where you’re standing to Dumbledore’s house!
So, does the Hogwarts Express run year-round? Who operates it? Hogwarts? The Ministry of Magic? Do the residents of Hogsmeade get to use it? Or is it just an entire steam train (WHO MINES THE COAL?) dedicated solely to taking one hundred children to and from Hogwarts twice a year? And if that’s the case, how the fuck does the witch who runs the snack trolley pay her bills? Do wizards have bills? If they don’t, then WHAT DOES IT MEAN THAT THE WEASLEYS ARE POOR?
Harry is wandering around looking for platform 9 and ¾, and if this were Lindy West and the Sorcerer’s Stone, I would have literally stood on that platform until the Hogwarts Express came back at the beginning of summer holiday because I hate asking people questions, especially train conductors. But Harry spies a weathered railwayman and marches right up to him carrying a live owl like, “Excuse me, guv’nah, where is platform 9 and ¾?” and I tell you I would DIE before doing that!!!!!!!! Luckily, just as this uniformed authority figure starts yelling at Harry for being a wise guy (CORPSIFY ME FIRST), the entire Weasley clan walks by talking about “Muggles” and “Hogwarts” and Harry runs off to bug them instead.
Fred’s and George’s haircuts are literally disgusting.
Mrs. Weasley teaches Harry how to get on the train, and then Ron teaches Harry about all the different kinds of wizard candy. I’m sorry for constantly digressing, but who invented chocolate? Wizards or Muggles? Are house elves down in Brazil harvesting, roasting, grinding, and exporting cacao beans? Or did Muggles figure all that out, and then wizards just buy Muggle chocolate from Muggle chocolate factories (with WHAT KIND OF MONEY?) and then bewitch it to jump around like a frog? Because wizards literally treat Muggles like dumb trash, but there’s no way they don’t benefit constantly from Muggle invention. Not to be a capitalist, but don’t tell me wizards had any incentive to invent trains when they can already teleport.
Harry gets a Dumbledore trading card with his chocolate frog and is confused when Dumbledore just walks out of the frame. Ron is like, “Well, you can’t expect him to hang around all day,” and I’m sure you know what I’m going to ask. Is there just ONE SIMULACRUM DUMBLEDORE FOR ALL PAINTINGS AND CARDS? The odds of ever catching him on your chocolate frog card would be basically zero, but this is the least fucked-up thing about the internal logic of the sentient portraits in Harry Potter, so I will back down.
Ron introduces Harry to his hand-me-down rat, Scabbers, who blows (and is secretly a man, and has definitely seen multiple Weasley brothers masturbate????), and then Ron announces he’s going to try out a new spell that Fred and George taught him. It goes like this:
“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow.”