J.k. Rowling invented and mostly owns the world, we all are just trying to perfect it.
Brief descriptions of abuse, minor self harm in later chapters, violence, cursing, friendship struggles, dysphoria, and hopefully a mostly happy ever after. Trans and random Queer themes.
First time actually posting a fanfic, though I've read too many to count. I am definitely going to be using ideas I've picked up from other fics. If I've seen it in multiple fics i won't comment, if I've only seen it in one or two, I'll give credit.
Uh, yeah hopefully you guys enjoy. If you see any glaring mishaps please let me know! Criticism is welcome, but hate will be laughed at.
Harry Potter and a Cause for Concern
Chapter One ¥
Summer in little Whinging
~Harry Potter was undeniably a most unusual child. For starters, he possessed magic, not that he understood it as such. All he knew was that something would inevitably go wrong and he'd be blamed for it. He was raised by his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon from the tender age of one. Although realistically, "Raised by" might be giving them too much credit, for they hated all things, "peculiar or odd." The Dursley's provided only just enough food that the malnourished child didn't actually starve, unless he was being punished that is. The starvation for any kind of emotional support however, that was much harder to live with. Yes, they provided halfway decent hand-me-downs, enough so that their nephew's appearance didn't draw too much negative attention, but only because it would make them look bad otherwise. And although they tended to stay just on the legal side when dealing out physical abuse, Harry's punishments, which came fast and frequent, were nothing short of brutal.
His aunt and uncle were bad, but most of his real torments came at the hand of his marginally older cousin, Dudley. A spoiled hooligan who had learned early on that it was his duty in life to make sure that 'the freak' was as miserable as possible, and goddess but he was good at it. Dudley blamed anything and everything on his cousin, and his parents always took his side. As they grew, Dudley, being significantly larger, often used the smaller child as his first and favorite punching bag. Because of this, Harry learned at a very young age to become invisible, figuratively speaking, and when that didn't work, to run away. Unfortunately, his pig of a cousin had such a considerable size advantage, that the smaller child had excellent motivation to learn. Even though the extremely overweight boy couldn't often catch his smaller relative, he rarely held back once he did. Harry regularly sported a bloody nose, cut lip, black eye, or even broken bones, although mercifully most everything would heal up in only a day or two. If not for his magic becoming so proficient at healing him, he likely wouldn't have survived to his eleventh birthday, cause heaven knows the Dursley's weren't about to take the neglected juvenile to a hospital.
Dudley and his hooligan friends hurled insults as often as fists. The perpetually petite, black haired youth hated it, but the insults often hit harder. Because of his cousin's gang of hoodlums, he hadn't ever had the opportunity to make a single real friend, not until his eleventh birthday. Anyone that even started to befriend the shabbily dressed youngster backed off as soon as the taunting and threats started.
Most would expect the teachers and faculty to step in considering the obvious bullying, but because the primary school the two kids attended was headmastered by an old friend of Petunia's. The school staff readily fell prey to his aunt's sob stories about, "how troubled the boy is, when all we've ever tried to do is to offer Harry our love and affection," and so the otherwise innocent 'Potter brat' was labeled as a liar and troublemaker.
All that had changed three years ago when Hagrid, a giant of a man, knocked down the Dursley's front door to deliver a letter. A letter that the green eyed youth had been trying to read for the better part of a week, one that finally explained what he was, and why he was so different.
Over the course of that one week Uncle Vernon had gone to increasingly bizarre extremes to stop little Harry from reading the letter with so exact an address as to even list his cupboard under the stair. It seemed the sender realized the addressee hadn't been allowed to read the first letter, as on day two, three more arrived. He still hadn't managed to read one, as upon their arrival, he, Dudley, and his uncle had wrestled for control of said letters, not a great idea considering his much smaller stature next to theirs. There had been a lot of whacking and poking accomplished via Dudley's walking stick, part of the uniform for his new school. On the third day of the letter sender's assault, nine more arrived, even though his uncle had taped over the mail slot, they slipped through various windows and under doors. For the rest of the week the number, and delivery method, of the missive's arrival increased in ridiculousness. By Sunday, the Dursley patriarch had boarded up every access point to the entire house, even going so far as to tape over the shower drain! As his increasingly deranged uncle sat down for breakfast Sunday morning, it was with a slightly unhinged smile, and a cackle of, "No posts on Sunday." So of course it was at that precise moment the enormous Hagrid announced his arrival, with a booming knock at their boring, beige front door. The veritable giant of a man announced that his name was Rubeus Hagrid, and that he was a representative of Hogwarts School, here to see Harry James Potter.
Vernon, a walrus of a man himself, immediately threatened to call the police. The mustached walrus felt entirely safe in his assumption that the giant man couldn't possibly enter through a locked and boarded door, but he dreaded what the neighbors might think. He felt certain all the way up until Hagrid, with a chuckle and a, "have it yer way then," reached out and easily pushed the door in. Rather comically, it fell right over, hinges and all.
Thanks to the truly enormous man mountain, Harry finally managed to read the long awaited letter. He was a wizard! And all the strange occurrences that seemed to surround him were the result of his magical talents reacting to his needs and emotions. Not only that, there was an entire hidden society he was about to join. He had been invited to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! The soon to be mage-in-training was told to get ready, as they soon needed to leave inorder to purchase his necessary school supplies. The big, bearded wizard shiftily wrote a quick note to Dumbledore, ostensibly the note was simply informing the headmaster that Harry had received his letter, but in actuality it was a suggestion to send someone over to inform the Dursley's how foolish it would be to try and stop the youngster from attending school. The bullies were easily cowed by a man of Hagrid's lofty proportions for now, but once he was gone, who's to say that the muggles wouldn't try to withhold their young charge from his rightful magical education.
Harry's first two years at Hogwarts were simultaneously thrilling yet terrifying, immensely challenging, and richly rewarding. The young celebrity, known throughout Britain as The-child-who-lived, and wasn't that a strangeness, to be famous for something that wasn't even truly your own doing, caused him no end of grief with the student body. Even so, he still managed to make his first real friend in Ron Weasley, and while Ron was a lot of fun, and could even occasionally be thoughtful and sweet, he wasn't exactly the best influence academically. Truth be told, he regularly held Harry back. It wasn't until some funny business involving almost certain death and a troll, that the pint sized paragon made his second true friend. Hermione Granger may not have been as much fun as Ron, but she was incredibly smart, diligent, thoughtful, observant, and kind. While neither Ron nor Hermione were particularly patient, especially not with each other, they quickly became the siblings that the orphaned adolescent had never had. Hagrid, although a bit childlike himself (not to mention a tad irresponsible) provided Harry with the first adult figure that he felt some level of trust for, and by the end of second year, the veritable giant was practically more of an uncle figure than his blood family ever could be.
~During the summer before the raven haired 'noirette's' third year at Hogwarts, things had been going, well, suspiciously well. He still had a staggering amount of chores to keep up with, and of course the verbal abuse was ever present, but on most days he was told to make himself scarce before Petunia's friends came round for evening tea. Harry had even managed to, mostly, stay out of cousin's crosshairs by memorizing the enormous boy's regular schedule, and staying well away from wherever Dudley and co. happened to be. With so much more free time available than preteen was used to, he often escaped to the local library. Because of a couple nasty incidents near the beginning of the summer, where his tormentors had discovered Harry's hideaway, he rarely stayed to read in the library itself anymore. He wasn't sure if the librarians believed Dudley's taunts of, "The freaky poof," but he worried that they might. After all, he had nervously checked out a few books from the girl section, like the "Babysitters Club" and "Nancy Drew." He didn't want to risk a confrontation, so from then on he would quickly check out a book or two and do his best to imitate a magician's assistant. He would try his best to disappear.
Given all of his unexpected free time, he had even managed to finish the summer homework assignments early. Before first year, while at Privet Drive, the young bookworm hadn't been allowed to read any of his school books like he'd wanted, and during last year's return, he'd spent almost the whole trip frantically cramming an entire summer's worth of homework into the seven hour train ride. After explaining that the Dursley's hadn't allowed him access to any of his books all summer, Hermione, thank goodness, had made an exception to her strict no copying rule. After all, it hadn't been fair that Harry wasn't allowed, and there was no way he'd have time to do them all before classes by himself. Fortunately, the brightest witch of their year's essays were so detailed, it was almost as good as having looked the information up himself.
For whatever reason Vernon hadn't immediately confiscated Harry's trunk this summer. There was still an ironclad rule of no mentioning his 'freakishness' while in the Dursley's home, but the resourceful youth was able to smuggle out his books during his evening escapes. He'd had to write his essays in muggle notebooks, but he figured his professors would accept the necessity, considering he had been in public, more often than not up in a tree at the park, when writing them. Truthfully, lined paper and an ink pen were way easier to use than parchment anyway. Not for the first time unruly black hair swayed as the youth shook his head in wonderment at the backwards traditions of the magical world.