*The Absolutely Unfortunate Harry Potter*

The Absolutely Unfortunate Harry Potter by Pseudonymous Entity

Summary: Harold James Potter -who much prefers 'Harry' thanks- is the only utterly ordinary member of the great Potter family. He doesn't have political ambitions, or a high IQ. He isn't even tall enough to get the cereal off the shelf! There's a bitter and vengefull demon living inside of him though. That's something, isn't it?

Characters: Harry Potter

Warnings: ?

AN: Let me know if this tickles your fancy...

NOTE: Contains a conglomeration of inspiration from three or four novels outside of Harry Potter. Props if you're part of their fandoms.

Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]

"Broken vows are like broken mirrors

They leave those who held to them bleeding

And staring at fractured images of themselves..."

-Richard Paul Evans


In the words of a bitter and vengeful Demon Lord...

Light a candle. Step closer, right up to the looking glass. Time is short, we must not delay.

I'll admit, in another time, in another world, someone like you wouldn't have been worth even a flicker of my gaze. But even I can not break the terms of our contract. So, child, if you find yourself foolish enough to continue there are three things you must know. You must. Three lessons that must be heard, obeyed, remembered. One day they may indeed prove useful, crucial even, to your survival. Whether you choose to pay attention is your problem, not mine.

I've never been one to suffer fools.

The very first thing I must teach you is that you can never trust a Potter. These descendants of Godric and the Peveralls. The family will whistle lies between their teeth and beg prettily for mercy until their silver tongues tire. Do not give in. Cover your ears child, your eyes. Block out their deceptive, cowardly aroma. These are the humans which broke a legal contract written in blood, the very moment they feared for the continuation of their fortune, their success, their reputations. And their tradition is one of rash foolishness.

Listen. Mind me well. The candle's flame grows dim and our hour approaches. The Potters will tell you they were wronged. Misunderstood. They will tell you that I am a liar, a cheat, and a scoundrel. But do not forget, never forget, that even as I slept they feared me. As should you.

For the second thing you must remember, you must understand, is that my tradition is one of repayment. Betrayal for betrayal. Lie for a lie. Blood for blood. The third? Anything I give you I can -and I absolutely shall- delight in taking back from you piece by piece until the debt is paid. Which, in the case of the Potters, is everything.

Every. Single. Thing.




Chapter One

A dark-haired boy with large eyes hopped the curb at the intersection of Elm and Main.

Tensing his long legs, he rose from the seat of his bicycle. It was one of his only vanities. A well-oiled and highly sprung machine, viridian green, and custom built by his Godfather, Sirius Black. Harry had rarely ever even seen his Godfather because he had to move around a lot for his job and was very busy. Not only was Sirius his Godfather, he was also one of his cousins. However-many-times-removed. This bike though was his best present yet. It touched down in the bike lane as if landing on a cloud.

As if it could fly...

Harry leaned left, strafed the shoe emporium and blasted by the surplus store and the Laundromat, then looped around the SUV stuck idle at the light, waiting for the tourists to cross the street. Tourists. Eck. Here's the thing. In the big scheme of life on planet Earth the village of Godric's Hollow is a tiny speck. An itty-bitty speck of a speck's pet speck. Don't even bother pulling out an actual map, it isn't on most of them. Unless you already know it's here.

Godric's Hollow never had a witch trial -of course not!- wasn't responsible for starting any kind of revolution -we'd never be so rebellious!- and capital was a city chosen about a million-million miles away. In a big city where you didn't see the exact same faces day after day. The horror.

To most people, the only thing interesting about Godric's Hollow is the family that founded it. In Harry's opinion what anyone should be interested to know is that there was nothing at all actually interesting about the Potters. Well, okay, his great-great-great-great-whatever was almost part of the coup which overthrew the monarchy and replaced it with The Ministry, but he got held up by Dragon Pox and a sore throat which killed him like a week later. Toddler illnesses. Which, Harry had long ago decided, was just about the lamest way a bloke could go. But, of course, if anyone outside the family asked, that was just a rumour.

Privately, Harry didn't think he should get points for almost being part of a political revolution. That was like...telling his parents he almost got a perfect score on his history test. A Dreadful was only a few grades down from an Outstanding, right?

The point is his family had been around forever and didn't seem to be going anywhere. The walls of Potter Cottage were decorated with portraits of ancestors, from Godric Gryffindor -who helped build and found the Academy and the village- down to Harry's own grandparents. Just below those are regular pictures and newspaper clippings and medals and things like that of the various Aurors, Soldiers, Ministry Workers, Professors and CEOs the family was littered with.

His great aunt Wallburga liked to say that if any one of them decided to run for Minister -her- the country would fall so in love with them -her- that they'd get rid of "that pesky ministry" and name the shiny new Minister -her- a proper monarch -Queen-.

Harry rolled his eyes, swerving his bike in a wide circle around a family with cameras hanging about their necks, staring and pointing at something ridiculous. Average faces he probably wouldn't remember at the next holiday. The faces of his family changed a bit with each generation but you couldn't really say the same about Godric's Hollow. It never changed. Not really. Most likely because it took years to get anything done. Godric's Hollow was like a faded page that had fallen from an old, dusty history book and was just laying their forgotten beneath the desk. Still there, collecting ever more dust, but if you weren't looking for it, if you didn't already know that it was there, you would never find it.

Family members came and went, but they always seemed to return eventually. The worst part was that everyone was constantly interested in everyone else's business, especially the Potter's. To Harry, Godric's Hollow felt smaller and smaller every year. Like a cage he was growing too big for, but couldn't find a way out of.

Which was why it was so weird that no one else noticed it when an actual, honest-to-goodness stranger came to town.

No one but Harry.



Notes: Thoughts, Theories, Questions, Comments and Limmericks always welcomed

Ever Yours, Pseu