Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Out of the Reign
Harry Potter had had a hectic year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and now he had to clean out the attic.
He had arrived home, had lunch, which he would say was pitiful. He wasn't fed much while at home with his relatives. Though, he honestly couldn't say he considered the Dursley's house his home, just a place he stayed during the summer holidays.
After he finished his pitiful meal he was give a chore list that consisted of cleaning out the attic, and his usual list of things to clean up after the lazy... people, and he used the word people lightly. Then garden work, but he actually liked that as it got him some fresh air and away from the Dursley's.
The Dursley's consisted of three people. They were his bony greying blonde aunt who was his mothers' sister. She hated her sister Lily. He had come to the conclusion that she might have been jealous that her sister, his mother had been born with magical powers and she hadn't. He felt that she might have convinced herself that wizards and witches, or mage if he were to use a more unisex term, were dangerous.
He would admit she might have a point. He had only been in the magical world for two years, since he was eleven years old, and he had almost died more than once.
However, he had met just as many good people as bad, so it evened out a little. The rest tended if his last year was anything to go by, to follow the most popular conclusion no matter the idiotic without thinking for themselves.
He had been accused of being the heir of Slytherin and attacking muggle-born students and petrifying them, even though one of his best friends was muggle-born, and he was just twelve years old. He wondered whether that even crossed their minds until his muggle-born friend, Hermione Granger was petrified by the monster of the Chamber of Secrets.
He still couldn't fathom how in the end he had been the hero, like out of the comic books he sometimes read while in the muggle world to while away the hours. He could buy all he needed or wanted now he was a part of the magical world and had a nice sized trust fund.
Harry had saved the kidnap victim. She had been possessed by the sixteen year old spirit of Tom Marvolo Riddle. His name was an anagram that spelt: 'I am Lord Voldemort'. Harry ended up killing the basilisk, whose stare could kill with a jewelled sword that once belonged to the house founder Godric Gryffindor.
It was fortunate that no one had looked directly into the giant serpents eyes. It was all a fluke. Those that had been petrified, had lucked out because they only caught the reflection of its eyes, unlike fifty years back when it killed an innocent girl.
Ginny Weasley had been his best friend, Ronald Weasley's sister, and he hadn't thought about it at the time. He had been too caught up in his own drama. She must have been traumatised and he hadn't thought to speak to her about it. He had heard somewhere, probably from Hermione that it's good to talk about these things with people who had been through similar situations.
His Uncle Vernon was a large man with greying brown hair and moustache that twitched when angry. Harry sometimes equated him to a rampaging rhino when he was furious, which tended to be a lot, especially when Harry was around. He hadn't a clue whether his uncle was pleasant when he wasn't around or not.
Harry wasn't too sure what his problem with mage was. As far as he knew, the only mage Uncle Vernon had ever known was his Nephew Harry. This meant that his Aunt Petunia had told him 'all' about the magical people. It annoyed the young boy thinking about it, but there was nothing he could really do to convince him that not all mage were jerks, just like not all muggles were nice.
His Cousin Dudley was like his father in many ways. He was like a small, baby rhino in size but took after his mother with a mop of blonde hair on his head. He just copied the adults when it came to treating Harry like crap, but with the added ignorance about physical violence.
Because the adult Dursley's had let Dudley get away with bullying Harry, he had progressed to other kids, believing that he could. Harry used to get blamed by parents for everything Dudley did because Vernon and especially Petunia would pass the blame even if he couldn't have because he was nowhere near.
Adults being adults believed them. He had heard some rumours that parents were getting wise to Dudley. Harry wondered why they didn't ask their kids, and if they did, what happened, but he shouldn't dwell on stuff like that.
Dudley would only end up in jail if he carried on the way he was: a spoilt brat. Hopefully something would fall and Dudley would look at himself and learn that he was going down the path to a young offender's institute.
Harry was quite different to the rest of the family. He wasn't too scrawny as Hogwarts had fed him more than just well. He wasn't large either. He was slender. He had bright emerald green eyes and ruffled black hair that looked as if he could have made it that way purposefully.
However, in the magical world he had nice brand new clothes. In the muggle world he had to wear his behemoth cousins' hand-me-down rubbish that was at least five times too large on him.
That left him thinking as he pulled down the ladder trapdoor to the attic. The Dursley's wouldn't care to open it for him. It had taken him as while.
He wondered why he didn't just change up some magical people money into muggle pounds to buy some nice new clothes. He felt like smacking himself for being so stupid and made a quick mental note for when he went shopping for his school supplies.
Climbing up the ladder into the dark of the attic he found the light pull string and bathed the space in light. It wasn't very large, but that was expected as it was only a semidetached house.
The floor was covered in bored to walk on. It was just drywall, but he didn't have to worry as he was light enough to move on them. It was probably the main reason the Dursley's 'trusted' him.
His aunt wouldn't have wanted to enter the dark, dusty, and bug infested space while Dudley was spoilt so he would never be in the running, and Harry wasn't sure his Uncle Vernon could even fit through the trapdoor, let-a-lone move on the boards without falling through the ceiling.
Sighing, he had been told to throw all the old junk out. If it were up to him, he would throw out the crap and save the useful things, and hopefully a charity shop would appreciate them, but nope, not with these dirt bags.
It had taken him over two hours to clear out boxes, going through them to make sure nothing important was thrown out when he came across a large oak trunk. It was dusty, but certainly looked like it was worth quite a lot of money by itself.
It had an L and an E engraved into a beautiful silver plaque. It had flowers around the rim as the silver travelled around the edges of the lips. He ran his fingers across the smooth wood wiping off the thick layers of dust. He couldn't quite believe that the Dursley's would own such an elegant piece of furniture. They only had tat decorating their house and they thought that was upper-middle class.
He had a moment where he thought about leaving it alone. However, his curiosity got the better of him, even though it often got him into trouble.
Harry couldn't help himself as he found the silver clasp wondering whether he could sneak it to his room. He found the release button and pushed it. The clasp flipped open and the lid popped up slightly as if it had been waiting years to show him what was inside, and it was bursting with excitement.
He felt his hands shaking as he pulled the lid open, and he didn't know why until he saw inside. It lay to the side of the trunk, with books and other things that shouldn't have fit inside. It was a broom.
It wasn't just any broom.
It was a Stratus racing broom.
His mouth fell open in awe as he put his hand around the slender, varnished cherry wood handle. It only took a slight tug for it to come loose, out of the trunk. He had heard his best friend Ron talking about brooms enough to know that he held a very rare and expensive broom in immaculate condition.
The broom had spiralling silver letters on the handle. The twigs at the end were all perfectly straight and perfectly cut.
He could feel the magic still in perfect balance running through his fingers. He could almost cry. It was special for more than its age and rarity. He realised what the L and E stood for as he looked to the silver plate on the top of the inside of the lid.
"Property of Lily Evans," he muttered quietly as he used his free hand. He was running his fingers over the letters on the plate.
He was kneeling as he looked into his mother school trunk. He placed down her old broom; his new broom. He could not wait to fly it. It would be a waste to leave it in the trunk, and he would never sell it.
It was so much more important than his Nimbus could hope to be. It was a connection to his family. It was a connection to his mother. His aunt must have forgotten about the trunk. He would have never gotten it back, if his aunt had her way... It was his now.
He looked further into the trunk. It had books from every year she spent at Hogwarts, and then some more beside that, a lot more, along with some journals. She must have been quite the scholar. She had written notes in all of her text books. They were littered with useful tips and tricks, proving she was as smart, if not smarter than everyone said.
She was smarter than Hermione for sure, and didn't have a problem with defacing books, but better, she didn't have a problem with questioning the validity of the books, or realising new and improved methods that yielded better results. He doubted he could be as smart as his mother, but he could give it a try.
He almost laughed as he looked in his mothers' year three potions textbook. She would have been more qualified to teach potions than Snape. He had the talent. Harry wouldn't deny that, but he couldn't teach, and Harry was sure he didn't actually want to. It was likely the only job he could get.
Lily Evans had created shortcuts and new methods for extracting the real components for the potions to work. Harry was awed that just squeezing out the juice instead of cutting up a bean would bring near perfect results.
Laughing seemed like the right thing to do. He couldn't wait to see the look on Snape's greasy face when he did so well. He would have to try to find a way to practice, or at least memorise the additions. That wouldn't be too hard as he hoped to read and reread everything. He had never had such a connection to his mother before. She was just a smart and kind muggle-born witch to most people he asked. Did anyone truly know his mother inside and out?
He knew more about his father because more people wanted to praise and glamorise him as a great person. Harry knew it was likely because they saw they looked alike, but mentally he was sure he was more like his mother or he would prank any and everyone on sight. Though, thinking of certain Slytherin's maybe he should give pranking a try, just to see what happens.
It might be in the blood somewhere.
He shook away that thought with a small smile before he picked up a diary. He felt weird opening the book. He didn't want to invade his mother privacy, but he had to, so that he could find out who she was.
He noticed that it had some writing on the inside of the cover of the book, and read through it. His eyes widening with everything he read. His mother must have been a genius beyond her years at school, and cunning.
First, the trace is a myth. They only track muggle-born students until they reach the age of seventeen through use of warding areas they would frequent that are non-magical, and then to make matters worse, they don't detect the magic user, just magic, so they have on many occasions accused muggle-born students of magic even without proof.
The Rules of Survival
Rule 1: NEVER GIVE UP YOUR WAND!
Harry quivered as he read those words. He wondered whether she found out too much and got a little paranoid. That diary wasn't her first by the tiny scrawl of year 4 in the top corner.
"That explains how and why they accused me of using magic last year when it was a House-Elf," he muttered to himself, and wondering why they didn't detect him teleporting.
They can never prove anything, so as long as you send in a reply to the Misuse of Magic Office informing them that they made a mistake they will remove any strikes against your name. If you don't dispute it, they might use that as proof of admission of guilt.
He made a quick mental note to send a letter to the Misuse of Magic office to refute the claim. He could even call in Dobby the House-Elf responsible if they said it was too late, since Harry had gotten him freed from the Malfoy family. The silly oddball elf owed him for that stunt.
However, like with everything in life there are always cheats. I designed a wand attachment in my fifth year that acted like a silencer on a muggle gun, which is why I'm writing it here with my notes on magical lore containing to muggles and muggle-born mystics.
The wand silencer as I have taken to calling it allows the muggle-born mage to use magic without the wards 'hearing' the spells.
As long as your wand contains the attachment and the wand is on your person, or within several inches of you, even accidental magic will be silenced.
I had no way to mass produce the wand silencer as the ministry would outlaw it as soon as they found out. Therefore, I created only one, using it for myself, so that I could practice magic at home like purebloods could.
Harry finished reading that with a frown. He looked through the trunk when he found something. It was black. It looked like rock. It was an angled black ring. It had what he knew from his friend Hermione's obsession with books were runes perfectly engraved in it.
It looked too big for his wand, and when he slid it on he was right. It was to the base of the handle and lose. However, he was startled when it shrunk down, closing and sealing to his wand. He was amazed. It actually made his wand look cooler.
When he looked at his wand closer he saw veins of cosmic blue coming from the silencer down the wood of his wand. It was beautiful in an odd way.
"Okay, my mum was a genius, and I'm a moron," he said to himself thoughtfully before pulling out her runology textbook and looking at it. He had thought about choosing Care of Magical Creatures with Divination as his minimum required electives because Ron wanted him to because he was, because they were the two easiest classes.
However, his mother had not chosen the simple solution so why should he? He knew he wasn't really stupid. He had gotten good grades in transfiguration and Defence against the Dark Arts, even though the latter had yet to have a good teacher, likely because he was good at practical work. He had gotten some good grades in charms too, and though not good he passed potions.
Though, thinking on that, he hadn't tried very hard. Ron had always distracted him from studying, and then he would secretly admit that the more Hermione nagged him to study the more he refused.
He sighed as he sat down to get comfortable and rummaged in the trunk. He was hoping that she had some pictures he could add to his album from her time at school.
However, he hadn't the chance to explore more when his aunts' shrill voice called out to him. "Boy!" she called out. "Get downstairs now! Dudikins and your uncle are hungry, make the dinner!" she said before he listened to her hurrying away and down the stairs.
He looked to the trunk and the trapdoor before he realised he wouldn't get a better opportunity. He repacked his mothers trunk in a hurry, making sure he got everything, and closed the lid, latching it. It took him a great effort to haul it down the ladder to the landing without anyone hearing. It was lucky that it seemed to have some lightening magic on it, but that magic must have been fading.
Harry didn't want to test his wand yet. He wanted to be careful. He managed to get the trunk into his room where he knew no one would go. It was like they thought he would booby-trap his room or something with magic, even though they knew he 'wasn't' allowed to use magic outside of school.
Stashing his new trunk in the corner he quickly left for the kitchen. He ignored his aunt because that made life simpler, but once he had put some sausages in the oven, and ignoring his uncle as he entered the kitchen, grumbling that Harry wasn't frying them.
The large man sat at the table watching as Harry peeled the potatoes and completely ignored the deep fat fryer as he cut them up and put them in a pan of water. However, the man didn't complain further when Harry pulled out a large can of beans to sit ready for the microwave.
"Boy!" Vernon said finally. Harry expected him to complain about the lack of chips being prepared, but he didn't. "Marge is coming to visit in a fortnight!" he said gruffly and Harry let his eyes widen in horror. "She was going to visit next month, but the man who usually took care of her dogs can't do it then, as his niece came into some money and chose that time to take him with her family on holiday."
Marge. Or Aunt Marge as she demanded he call her was the vilest piece of crap on the planet, in his honest opinion. She had some kind of dog breeding business, and bred pit bull terriers, among other dogs. She had her favourite. She called him Ripper, and that stupid dog was called it for a reason.
"I want you on your best behaviour, so no funny business!" he demanded, straight to the point. "There won't be any of those dumb birds arriving for you will there!?" he demanded while Petunia was pretending to preen some pot flowers.
He thought about that for a moment before answering. He figured that he might as well try the truth since the behemoth was asking politely. Though, it looked like it took everything his uncle had.
"W-well not really, just my forms for the new year," he said, shrugging. "I mean, because its third year we have to choose a couple elective classes so they send out our letters quite a bit early."
"Make sure you get rid of that bloody pigeon and its gone when she gets here!" he commanded but still he was trying not to get angry at the thought of Harry's faithful 'owl' familiar. "I don't want any of that... stuff around. She can never know what a freak you are!"
It was like a giant light bulb went off above his head like from them old cartoons he had occasionally seen on television. He had never before thought he would contemplate blackmailing anyone. However, the sorting hat did say he would have done well in Slytherin, the house for the cunning, so who was he to argue with that?
He imagined a small him on his right shoulder with little angel wings. It was a female version of him wearing glasses with long crinkly black hair wearing silk white robes. She sounded like Hermione, telling him that that kind of thing was bad, and immoral. However, a boy version with bat wings also appeared over that shoulder with long crimson hair and a wicked grin as he knocked her off and told him the Dursley's were douches so who cared.
Harry hoped he hadn't cracked open a potion from his mothers old trunk when he blinked several times and his imaginary cartoon concept was gone. He shook his head. He had just zoned out for a moment and his uncle was getting impatient. Harry took a couple more moments to think things over before he decided to try something anyway.
He had never tried manipulating them before. He wondered whether it would work. Could he trick his uncle into giving him what he wanted, and thinking it was a smart way around Marge finding out about freakishness.
"I... think we could do something, but..." he trailed off, acting as if he was scared to mention whatever it was. He had fought a seventy foot killer snake with something the snake would consider a tooth pick. He couldn't find it in him to be afraid of any human, anymore.
"But what boy!" the man demanded. "Spit it out now...!"
"Well, you know... Aunt Marge," he quickly said timidly, hated calling her that. She was Vernon's sister not Petunia's, and even then he didn't like calling her aunt. "She likes to put me down, and tell me how useless I am and everything and I can't control my emotions. Before I hadn't been powerful enough that I would do anything... funny accidently, but. She likes to criticise my baggy hand-me-down clothes, and how I look like a criminal."
"You're not having anything from us you good for nothing!" he spat out, angrily.
"Then I'm sure it's going to end badly!" he replied back surprised he hadn't backed down yet. He felt his chest pounding. His heart was beating so fast. His adrenalin was pumping 'bravery' through his veins. He could be pushing his luck, but he didn't care. If he could try to make his life even slightly more tolerable at the Dursley's it would be worth it.
"Are you threatening me, boy!?" he demanded. His face was a strong shade of purple as he stood to his full height, towering over the young magician.
"N-no, of course not!" he quickly said, taking a small step back. "I mean... she is much. If we can trick her into believing that I am a normal, non-freak, so that she'll leave me to hide away in my room for as long as I can, then we all have something to gain from it. I'll send away my owl, and make sure that Aunt Marge could never find anything magical, and you buy me the clothes and other... normal things that a twelve, nearly thirteen year old normal boy with brilliant guardians could need."
The large man looked as if he was going to rage again when he paused, looking at Harry, his eyes narrowed in thought. "So... we pretend that... you've 'changed'?" he asked while Harry readily nodded. "That you're not a freak?!" he asked, and again received another nod. "And all we need to do is buy you new clothes and some... technology... a watch... a TV... that sort of thing?"
"Exactly," he agreed, nodding his head. "That way, Marge never finds out anything, and she doesn't spend hours complaining about me when you have plenty of neighbours to complain about. Accidental m... freakishness is not just a defence to physical distress, but emotional distress."
"Pet," he said looking to his wife while she wasn't even pretending to see to the plants anymore.
She gave him a sour look. "I don't care what you do, Vernon," she said coolly. "I'm not taking him shopping. You said you needed to get to that tailors you like in London. Take him with you and do it yourself. It will be hard enough trying to make this lie look real, let alone convince Dudley to behave himself."
"I'll deal with Dudley!" he replied, sighing. "He'll listen to me!" he said before turning to Harry. "Finish dinner, and be ready in your nicest... well, most respectable clothes by ten tomorrow morning, and no funny business tomorrow while you are out with me, understand!"
"Y-yes Uncle Vernon," he said with a look of shock. He couldn't believe his luck. First his mothers trunk, and then actual new things, and he wasn't paying. He had to deal with a day out with Vernon, but he had to suffer more annoying people at Hogwarts so who cared.
He went back to making dinner, and it was over as quick as he hoped so he could get back to exploring his mother trunk. He had soon left the Dursley's to do whatever it was Dursley's did while he wasn't around.
Harry was soon eagerly diving into his mothers' trunk looking for anything and everything he could. He found moving and still photos. He had never seen any good pictures of his grandparents, either side before, but the trunk help plenty of nice pictures of his muggle grandparents.
He felt like crying as he looked at a picture with his Grandpa and Grandma Evans cooing over him when he was a small baby. They looked so young and healthy he wondered what had happened to them. He actually considered asking his Aunt Petunia. He had never heard her even mention them before.
Though, maybe he'll ask her after he had done with his scheme to get some nice new clothes and deal with Marge not pissing him off so much that he blows her up, or the house or something, not that he thought anything would last.
He would have to wait and find out. At least he wasn't being moody or stupid. He would have to see whether he was being bipolar.
to be continued...
A/N: came from a challenge by Draynuy, but I'm changing some here and there so that it hopefully fits awesomely. Thanks for reading, please leave a review. I'm happy to hear what you think.