Potter – The Stone
By Cory D. Rose
Harry Potter's life was rather strange. He seemed to have a kind of good luck/bad luck thing going on. Even he was sometimes caught by surprise when something odd happened to him. At eleven years old he would have sworn that the universe was conspiring to make his life 'interesting'.
It was bad enough that his parents were dead, or that his abusive aunt and uncle were even allowed to spend a year abusing him as a baby, or that he seemed to meet the most interesting people. People in black cloaks wearing masks, or had memories of a flying motorcycle. It was just one thing after another.
Like today. It wasn't like he was trying to look for trouble, it just happened to find him. Really, that was all there was to it. He was just minding his own business out on the play ground when that jerk Stevenson came up and just took a swing at him. For absolutely no reason, really.
He wasn't about to just stand there and let it happen. After all he had to protect himself from jerks like this. Anyway, it was fun. That was why he just rolled back and flipped right out of the swing, hopped back, and brought his hands up.
"What's up, Moron."
"Potter, I'm going to kill you!" The older boy yelled as he swept the swing aside and jumped at him. "Die!"
Smirking, Harry hopped into the air went right over the boy's back. Harry laughed as he landed, spun around, and swept the boy's legs out from under him. Stevenson crashed to the ground with a cry and landed hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs.
"What was that, it was something about gasping for air?" Harry taunted.
"I'll…gasp…get…gasp gasp gasp…you, Potter." The boy said, gasping for air.
"You don't stand a chance Stevenson." Harry said, stepping out of the way of a weak punch. "Your so sloooooow."
"Bastard…I'll, GET YOU!"
"Not any time soon slow poke!" Harry said, bounced back, did spin kick and sat his foot on top of the boy's head. "Gotta move faster than a sloth!"
Laughing, Harry rolled to the side, landing a light punch in the boy's ribs almost on instinct, and gave him a push, sending him tumbling to the ground. "What was that? You're off balance? I can see that, and slow too."
Harry turned his head to see a teacher heading their way looking angry. "Hello Mrs. Sopal."
"Don't take that tone with me! I saw the whole thing, look what you did to poor Stevenson. When will you learn to not fight." She muttered. "Detention!"
"Ah! He started it!" Harry yelled.
"Do you want me to call your father!" She yelled.
Harry almost snapped 'yes' he'd really like to see if she could contact a dead man, but thought better of it. "No ma'am."
"You're going to get it now Potter." Stevenson snickered from the ground nearby. The teacher pretended not to hear it as she grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him away.
"He attacked me first!" Harry tried to explain. "At least give him detention too!"
Mrs. Sopal ignored him as she dragged him off the playground. She really didn't want to listen to yet another excuse. This was the third fight in the last few days and she didn't know what to do with the boy. He always seemed to be in the thick of things.
Harry pouted a bit, then shrugged as they entered the school and headed for the home room. She let go of his arm as they entered and she pointed at a nearby desk. "Sit!"
Grumbling, he stomped over to the desk and plopped down. He folded his arms and glared at the desk. She rummaged in her desk, pulled out a note book and a really short pencil. These were placed on his desk a few seconds later. "Start writing lines. I will not pick fights! Two hundred times. Now!"
Sighing, Harry glanced at the window and considered running for it, but then remembered his adoptive father telling him to live up to his responsibility, even when he thought it was unjust. Gritting his teeth, Harry started to write. This wasn't the first time he'd had to do this and it wouldn't be the last. He let his mind wander a bit as he let his hand write out the line over and over again.
This was the fifth school he'd been to in the last 6 years and he was really hoping he wouldn't have to start at a new one anytime soon. He never got a chance to make friends these days. It was always, training, school, training, homework, more training, then bed. Only to do the same thing the next day. He really needed a break from all the morons attacking him.
Even his cousin Dudley wouldn't get near him these days. Not after Harry broke the bullying git's arm and punched him a few dozen times. That of course had gotten him kicked out of that school, not that mattered that much. The jerk deserved it.
Now Harry was just trying to get through a school day without fighting, but he just couldn't stand there and let people insult him. It felt wrong. About half an hour later he finished writing and sat the pencil stub down. "I'm finished."
Mrs. Sopal looked up from her desk. "Harry, you need to stop fighting like this, it could get you expelled from school."
"I only fight when someone attacks me." Harry countered.
"I don't care why you do it, you need to stop or you will be thrown out of this school. We don't tolerate fighting."
She sighed, knowing a losing battle when she saw one. "Alright, you can head home now."
Harry nodded. Quickly gathering up his bag and his homework, he headed out of the room. Since he wasn't allowed to run until he got outside the school, he spent the next few minutes practicing different ways to walk. His adoptive father was always making him do things like this to practice. This way he could spread his practicing out over the whole day and always be in perfect form.
Once outside he started running, adjusting the way his feet touched the ground so that he was completely silent. It was a five mile run, something he did twice a day. Some days he just ran to and from school, on others he would practice certain moves, jumping over people, running on the fence top, or over cars. Whatever seemed like fun.
Of course he had to be careful, his father hadn't trained him up to a level where he could do anything he wanted. No matter how good Harry was at fighting. Today he didn't feel like doing anything, so he picked up his pace and tried to run the distance as fast as he could.
By the time he reached home he was covered in sweat. His house was at the outskirts of London and could be called more of a compound than a house. A wall ran around the property, nearly ten feet high, and made of stone blocks mortared into place.
Harry knew this because he was the one that built most of the wall when he was seven years old. His adoptive father called it good strength training, but Harry never quite got the training part. Just a sore back and muscles. The main door to the yard was made of an old wood, dark, and as hard as stone. His father had hung the massive two hundred pound door in about five minutes without using any kind of machine. Instead he did it with his bare hands.
To this day Harry was still impressed by the feet of strength and according to his father there were guys out there even stronger than he was. Harry didn't bother with the gate, instead he just jumped the wall and landed on top, crouching down.
There was no one in the back yard much to his relief, though he would still be careful, his father liked to ambush him when he let his guard down. Scanning the bushes and trees, Harry hopped down. He started to creep across the yard, moving from tree to tree until he ran out of cover several yards in.
Peeking around a tree, Harry scanned the back of the house, but everything looked calm and quiet. He stepped away from the tree and started running for the house, but a blur of movement on top of the house caught his attention. Something jumped into the air, nearly twenty feet above him, and started to throw colored balls.
Harry cursed, and dove out of the way as a barrage of water balloons started to land all around. Ducking and dodging, he weaved his way through the attack, his sixth sense warning him every time one of them got a little to close. The attacker landed, stopping for just a few seconds, his long pony tail flowing down his back.
"Gotta move better than that!"
"&$# you!" Harry yelled, sticking his tongue out. "Bleee!"
The attacker laughed and sent more water balloons flying, these were curving around as they flew through the air. Harry jumped back several feet and suddenly jumped to the side. Right as the man's arm flashed and sent balloon right into Harry's head.
Water exploded all around him. Cursing, Harry suddenly found himself being physically attacked and he was forced on the defensive. They worked their way across the yard, Harry dodging punches and kicks coming at him with lightning speed. He even managed to do a couple of one armed jumps to avoid balloons.
"Good dodging! Pay more attention, boy!"
A fist that was coming at his face suddenly dropped down below his guard and slammed into his stomach. He rolled with the blow, bit it was eno8ugh to send him staggering back, coughing loudly. The man smirked at him and stepped back. "That was pathetic, I've seen you do a lot better than that."
"Well Father, I just ran five straight miles and then had to fight you, what did you expect?"
"I expected you to fight back as I taught you. In a real battle if you let your guard down like that you would be dead."
"I see, you want to run back to school and back again before dinner?"
"Nononononononon!" Harry said and quickly took another stance. "We can continue."
"I think you want to run. You look like you want to run." He said, tapping his chin with a finger. "What to do, what to do…"
The man tilted his head to the side and gave him a 'I'm to innocent for words' look. The he grinned. "We fight, and you will fight back with everything you have."
The man attacked, this time using s completely different style of attack. Harry nearly sighed in relief, he really didn't want to run another ten miles today. They fought constantly for the next couple of hours, until Harry collapsed at the man's feet.
"Much better." The man said as he reached down to pick the kid up and lugged him into the house.
The house was a two and a half story house designed to house nearly ten people comfortably. It was a light brown with white trim and a perfectly manicured lawn. Off to the side was a large wooden deck that was used to practice their martial arts forms. Several training dummies were sitting at one end, a couple of lockers were next to the house along with an outdoor shower.
As the man was setting Harry down on a couch in the front room, an owl suddenly flew through an open window, circled the room, and suddenly dropped a letter on Harry's chest and flew away. The man watched as the bird flew away before he turned to see the letter. Written in green ink, was
Mr. H. Potter
The Hidden House, London
The man picked up the letter and frowned at it for a second. It wasn't every day that a person received mail by way of an owl. He quickly ripped the envelope open and sat down to read through it. An ordinary man would have tossed the letter on the floor in an instant, but not this man, he'd seen to much over the years to scoff at what he read.
Folding the letter up, he walked over to a chair and sat down, his long black hair trailing down his back. His grey blue eyes gleamed as he considered the letter and what it could mean. Eventually he heard Harry stirring and watched as the kid sat up and looked around.
"Not bad, it only took you half an hour to recover from the fight. You're getting better."
"Just not good enough."
The man shrugged. "You're only eleven kid, give it a few more years and what we did today will seem like a warm up."
"No matter, this is for you."
Harry took the letter, noticed it was open, and glared at him. "You opened my mail?"
He smirked. "Of course, I thought someone strange was challenging you. An owl dropped it off."
"You don't expect me to believe that do you?"
"Of course. I'm your father."
"You adopted me." Harry challenged.
"Technicalities." He said and waved it off.
Harry glanced at the letter, pull it out of the envelope, and started to read.
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress
"Is this some kind of joke?" Harry asked. "Magic isn't real."
"I'm not sure. I've learned not to scoff at things like this. Over the years I've come across several things that would seem to give credence to the letter."
"Well yeah, but still, a school devoted to teaching magic? That seems kind of weird to me. And how the heck are we supposed to 'owl' them back?"
"Now that I'm not to sure about. I was thinking about how this school was going to keep me from training you properly."
"There is that as well. I say we ignore it and see what happens."
BANG BANG BANG!
Notes: There you have it, nothing to painful and a very different Harry, more confident, and willing to fight back when he needs to. Quite a bit more to come, send a review if you like it and I'd love suggestions and thoughts about the fic.
shihanna at netzero dot com