I read too many fics, so I had to write my own. I don't even like to write, but that's what happens when you have read far too many. That said, anything canon is Rowling's, anything recognizable from another fic is probably theirs but they have all merged to become one, anything beyond that will be mine. Hopefully it will turn out okay.
If you think this story is like all the others out there, you're wrong. Like I said above, some things from other stories have been incorporated, but I doubt a majority of those who will read this have seen something too similar, and if you have tell me, I would like to read them.
Read, review, but most of all, enjoy.
Chapter 1: Deals with pigs
Silence. Well, almost silence. You could hear the ambient sounds outside of the car, as well as Dudley's soft whimpering as he tried to get away from the freak of a cousin next to him, and not succeeding very well. Petunia Dursley was glaring at the side view mirror, trying to kill her nephew with a look that almost rivaled Snape's. Almost, because as soon as Harry's eyes met hers she turned away.
Vernon Dursley was another matter altogether. He seemed to cycle through a number of colors so rapidly that Tonks would be hard pressed to match. He went from a pale ashy white, showing he truly was frightened of the threat that those freaks at the station had given him. Then a slight blush of embarrassment from thinking of the way he must have looked, getting reprimanded like a child in front of potential clients (Vernon might act like the big bad wolf, but at work, he was a yes man. A brown noser to such an extent that it was surprising that he was able to get his head out of his boss's ass long enough to make it to the car to get home). Then a deeper red, at the realization that there was a purpose for doing what they did. They thought that he was abusing the boy! He'd only done what any respectable person would do with a freak; stuffed it away, and give it the scraps he wouldn't give a stray, until it could become useful and work the 'freakishness' out him. He'd done nothing wrong. Nothing! Then that ever famous puce color he loved sporting. And it was that freak's fault entirely. 'Well,' Vernon thought, 'The freak is really going to pay now. Just watch and see!' With that thought he reverted back to ashy, with the dread of what those other freaks would do to him if they found out.
Harry was nearly oblivious to all of this. The only thing that brought him from his musings was the feeling of being watched, until he looked up to see his Aunt had just looked away. His thoughts were dominated by the death of his Godfather and a prophecy made by a known fraud that was believed by the two biggest players in the war. It had been a few days since he was given that little tidbit of information. But of course, it had been too late. Had he known that there was a prophecy, and where it was kept, he would not have gone to the Department of Mysteries. For that matter, if he had been told that there was the possibility that he could be sent false images and be possessed, he would have tried harder at Occlemancy. Of course that one was not completely his fault. Snape may have been a potions master, but the man couldn't teach anything. All the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and many Ravenclaws could attest to that fact. But no, Dumbles decided ignorance is bliss and that he should live as much as a child as he could, before somehow defeating a hypocritical psychopath with over fifty years of knowledge and extremely more powerful then him. How the hell he was supposed to do that!
But do it he must. Why? Because if he doesn't defeat the self proclaimed 'Dark Lord', then Britain, Europe, and eventually the world would be destroyed and enslaved.
'…And either must die at the hand of the other… for neither can live while the other survives…'
There's the kicker. If he doesn't kill him, no one else can. Such a lovely destiny. And now he lost his Godfather. For the first few days he was depressed. Extremely depressed. Talking to Luna helped, along with some discoveries of his own. It made him think. Sirius wasn't afraid of death, and he wasn't coming back from beyond the veil. He wouldn't want Harry to mope around, blaming himself. Then there was the guilt. That was just as bad as the feeling of loss. He thought it was entirely his fault. But he realized something; he had tried. He had talked to Snape, he wouldn't listen. He talked to Kreacher, he lied and betrayed his master (that thing was going to die for what he did). So it wasn't like he ran into a dangerous situation without trying to make certain that he was there. Not like he usually would have done. He did blame himself, but he blamed the others just as much. Beside, there was plenty of blame to pass around. Snape, while a snarky git and all around bitter man should have been able to see past a twenty year old grudge with a dead man to confirm or deny his suspicions. Bellatrix definitely had some for killing him, Merlin he wanted to kill that bitch, and Sirius's had some too, for not taking a potentially fatal dual seriously. That was a lesson his Godfather taught him that he would always remember; never underestimate your opponent. Finally, there was Dumbledore and Voldemort.
He hoped that he had weakened the bastard as bad as he felt after being possessed by him. Though that wasn't very likely, as he was still able to get away. Then again, perhaps some good had come from being possessed. As he was struggling for control of his own body, he felt something break, and with the rush of emotion he was able to push Old Voldie out of his head.
I t wasn't until the next day that he realized that he seemed different. He felt, well, lighter. Like there wasn't anything holding him back. Like his mind was free. And he saw, well lights, or something around people if he concentrated on them. Some lighter, some darker. The colors varied from a light, barley noticeable color with various other colored patterned strands which seemed to be the majority of the students, which went through a wide spectrum of color. Only a few people had all one color strands and a base color, a handful of students and a number of the teachers.
The students tended to be the stronger ones in the upper years with some, like Luna with light blue with gold strands, Ginny with a deep scarlet with silver strands, the Patil twins; Padma having purple with light mocha strands while her sister had the opposite, and Neville's was a pastel orange with yellow strands with some Slytherins like Blaise Zabini, a quite but beautiful girl who had a pale green with eggshell strands, Draco Malfoy had grey with wine strands, and surprisingly Pansy Parkinson who had a greenish blue with ruby strands, who were in the younger years. The teachers included McGonagall who had light scarlet strands and a deep goldish base, Snape with a medium coffee base with silver strands, and Flitwick with periwinkle blue strands with a purple base. Dumbledore had a deep copper outlined with white for the strands with an odd shade of blue and silver as a base (it actually reminded Harry of a pair of robes he had seen Dumbldore wear once, only the robes had forks and spoons running along the hem and a jumping cow over a moon). Unlike the others who had the colors fade in and out in intensity, Dumbledore's was a constant flare. But they all had an outline of some sort outside the regular colors which seemed to change on its own accord. He did notice that it stayed one color or another when they talked or looked at him, but generally changed to something different once they left. He didn't tell any one because it wasn't hurting him and it took his mind off things when he didn't want to think of anything else.
With this weird sight thing came the difference in mind. It was like he was allowed to think clearer for the first time in a very long time. But it was different. He began to think a little more stoically, a little more Slytherin, he supposed. And it was mainly due to this new way of thinking that he was able to get past his Godfather's death and see that it was not all his fault.
He had yet to get any pains or visions, of course, which could be because Voldemort assumed that Harry wouldn't be as stupid as he was the last time and fall for another false image. 'Then again, he could just be holed up somewhere, too weak send one.' Tom Riddle a.k.a. Voldemort a.k.a. He-who-has-as-many-hyphens-as-me.
'He will pay. He has directly or indirectly destroyed everything resembling a life for me. Kill or be killed? Yeah, well I have got no problem with that. Not for the wizarding world though. What have they done for me? Hailed me as a hero, and then trampled on me when ever it took their fancy. People may be smart, but society as a whole is incredibly stupid and gullible. No, if I do it, it is for me, for revenge. Voldy and all of his bootlicking servants will get there's too.' Harry's thoughts were cut off here as they pulled up to the house.
Dudley jumped out of the car and waddled up and into the house faster than Harry had ever seen him move, which wasn't saying much as Harry thought a slug could outpace his baby whale of a cousin. His Aunt left much faster beating Dudley to the door after giving Harry one last glare. Vernon had just cycled through his colors back to a pale ashy white and decided that if he was to do anything, it would be in the house. Away from that crazy-eyed freak and the rest of the boys friends. He threw the keys at the boy and waddled in after his wife. Realizing that no one was going to help him, Harry got out and went to the boot and struggled to get his trunk and Hedwig's cage out and get it up the stairs to his … no, Dudley's second bedroom. He had sent Hedwig ahead so as not to annoy here with a ride in the boot.
'Merlin, I hate this place.' He thought to himself. 'Why do I have to be here again? Oh yeah, Dumbledore. Blood wards. I wonder how those work any way. They can't be anymore effective then the Fidelius Charm, especially if Dumbledore was the secret keeper. And what do they do when I'm not here the rest of the year? Another thing I have to figure out.'
Sitting down on his poor excuse for a bed he began to reevaluate his life. 'Well,' he thought, 'I think that all my trust in Dumbles has been exhausted. He should have told me the prophecy when I asked him, at the end of first year. I never had a childhood to begin with, how to do I continue what I never had? He had to know how I grew up. He had to, even if he never bothered to check up on me, my acceptance letter said cupboard under the bloody stairs for Merlin's sake! And if I am so bloody important, why the hell didn't he check up on me?' thump! Harry fell off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. His Uncle could be heard yelling about freaks with no respect for the quiet of a household. But Harry didn't hear anything as he was hit with the impact of his train of thought.
'I don't matter to him. I'm not Harry Potter, fifth year student. I'm Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, weapon of the light! Something to be locked away and used when needed. Oh bloody hell!' were his thoughts as seemingly random events played before his eyes.
Hagrid, telling an 11 year old Harry about the evilness of the dark and Slytherins. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin" Mrs. Weasley talking loudly about muggles and asking which gate the entrance was at. Ronald Weasley's biased opinion of the serpent house.
'Hagrid was wrong; Peter Pettigrew proved that right quick. And there have always been others from different housed who have joined Dark Lords. Acadian Nott, Theodore Nott's Uncle was a Ravenclaw, they came from everywhere. And how is it that a woman with seven children, five of which were attending Hogwarts, her old school, not know where the gate is. Just happening to solve my dilemma and introducing me to the most light-sided pureblood Dumbledore fanatics you could find.Add Draco Malfoy's blatant arrogance and racism, and you have a recipe for the perfect Gryffindor golden-boy.' And that was just to keep him out of Slytherin.
Every year was test, and every year he just barley made it out alive. The stone, how is it that the Protection for one of the most valuable artifacts in the world can be defeated by three first years? Using the mirror of Erised as the final obstacle after carefully explaining how it works. Showing up right on time to make sure Harry doesn't die with the excuse that he and the owl passed in flight. The man makes portkeys left and right. And ff it was such an emergency he could have easily flooed or apparated.
Second year, third year, fourth. A good majority of events were preventable but Dumbles let them go, doing his part by being aware and allowing Harry to take care of it as just another test. Fifth year was by far the worst with being kept in the dark and ignored.
'Well no more' vowed Harry. 'No more ignorance, no more weakness. I will do what I have to do. Whatever I have to do. I will learn and I will become more powerful. Not Dumbles or his turkey club will stand in my way. I've got to be careful though. If anyone were to catch wind of what I want to do Dumbledore will attempt to shut it down fast and It will be much more difficult be able to do what I want and need to do. How the hell does he think I will be able to defeat him with no training anyway? First I need a plan. Where to go, what to get, and how to do it. And I can't stay here, so I will have to find another place to stay. My parents were supposed to be well off, it is possible that they owned other properties.'
With those thoughts Harry went downstairs to make dinner for his oh so loving relatives.
"Boy, what the hell did you tell those freaks we were doing to you!" Uncle Vernon screamed in response to his dinner being served.
"I didn't tell them anything Vernon. They see what I look like after holidays, and despite what you may think, they are not stupid. Probably a good deal smarter than you." Harry replied in a smooth voice he didn't know he had.
"Boy don't you take that tone with me. This is my house! I demand respect! And I will not be made a fool of in front of hundreds of people in a train station! Those were potential customers you little shit!" Vernon said as his face turned a burgundy color.
"Why go there when you can be made a fool of in the comfort of your own home?" retorted Harry, setting Vernon off, standing up and making him turn his Rhino-purple which screamed 'Danger!' to anyone who knew the signs.
"Sit down Dursley." Harry said in that same smooth voice with a deadly edge to it. "Now, I've got a proposition for you, you greedy pig. I'll pay you 500 pounds a week for you to stay off my back and out of my hair. I will not do the chores. I will leave whenever I feel like without consequences. I ask that you respect me and my belongings and in return I will stay out of your hair. Unless, that is I need something, and in the case of that, I will make sure there is incentive, don't worry. Do we have an agreement? Harry Finished.
It was truly hilarious to watch Vernon's reaction. First he wanted to squeeze the life out of the boy for ordering him to do something. Then the offer made its way through his head. '500 pounds was a lot of money.' Vernon thought. 'Where would the freak get it form? Doesn't matter. I've never asked where money came from any other time, just that it was where it was supposed to be. Hmmm.'
"Alright, boy. First off, it will be 1,000 pounds. You have been a burden for too long on this family, and it is time you paid for it, with interest. You will be doing the cooking though, and no other freaks in the house." Ended Vernon, with a smugly satisfied look on his face. Harry however was livid.
"I'm a burden? A burden! You barely fed me anything and locked me in a cupboard! I've done all the labor on this house and the chores since I could walk. A child should not have to know how to cook a full meal at five years old or be able to determine cleaning products by their smell. Your son is probably more of a burden, what with the cost of his food equaling that of a Hogwarts feast!"
At this pronouncement Vernon stepped back with a look of disbelief at the audacity of the boy and fear. Harry stood up and glared at his Uncle with pulsating Avada Kedavra green eyes that seemed to pierce you soul. A light breeze from no where swirled around him, pulling his usually short, chaotic hair into a halo of darkness that cascaded around his shoulders. It made for an intimidating sight.
"No, Dursley you will not take liberties with my generosity. 500 pounds, no more you greasy swine. I will cook if it takes my fancy. You will stay away from me, and I will do what ever the hell I please. Neither you nor anybody else is going to tell me otherwise. You get in my way; you will be taken care of. My friends want me treated well, you wouldn't want them to show up here now would you?"
Harry's eyes had stopped pulsating and settled into a dull throb. The wind settled, but left his hair just as long with an odd sheen that made it look as if he had extremely dark crimson highlights. Petunia stumbled back with a hand over her mouth in a silent scream with a look of disbelief like Vernon's. Only her face held something else. Recognition, perhaps? It was like she was seeing him for the first time. Harry was oblivious to this as he continued to look at Vernon.
"Now again, I ask, do we have an agreement?" Vernon could only nod his head, not trusting himself to speak, lest he embarrass and humiliate himself further in front of his family.
"Good. Now that that is all taken care of, I'm going to bed. 'Night." And with that he went upstairs. 'I need a shower,' he decided. 'tomorrow.' He changed his mind as his bed began to look enticing. 'Yeah, tomorrow.' He thought as he yawned and fell into the pad he called a bed.
Alright, so what do you think? I hope you enjoyed it. More to come soon. Please, leave a review, they tell me what you think of the story and you readers have great ideas. All right, next one is already out, so read it and tell me what you think.