Okay, the basic premise of this fic is: what if Harry had an ounce of self-preservation and the vocabulary and sarcasm of a seventeen year old, how would this affect his school years...this is the result.
This fic starts when Harry starts getting his letters.
disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry Potter, and then everyone would really, really wish I didn't
So Sue Me
Harry had just been sent by his uncle to get the mail…Harry sighed and stomped out into the hallway to get the mail. Ruddy cousins and uncles to lazy to do anything…Harry knelt down to pick up the letters and one, in a strange envelope, slipped out of his grasp. It landed face-down. Harry frowned at it and picked it up, flipping it over, deciding to see who it was for—maybe it was a rejection letter from Smeltings for Dudders the mini whale.
Harry snickered and entertained the thought of Dudley, the mini whale; being transferred to London Zoo…traffic would be backed up for kilos, say nothing of the potholes.
Harry plopped the letter back on top of the stack, and started heading back into the kitchen when the green ink caught his eye…it was addressed to Harry Potter!
Harry thought fast and shoved the letter under the carpet, he could get it later as long as no one saw it and headed back into the kitchen quickly so as not to raise suspensions. Harry put the letters down next to Uncle Vernon and quietly sat down, his heart racing like a fox's.
Harry needn't have worried; he went unnoticed as he normally did.
So, after cleaning up breakfast Harry slipped out of the kitchen and snagged his letter escaping outside behind one impeccably trimmed bush, he opened it and couldn't believe his eyes…
Christ, Dudley was getting dumb. Like Harry didn't recognize this font, he rolled his eyes and tossed the letter away. Harry didn't want to give Dudley yet another reason to tease him at school…
"I suggest you get liposuction before you give yourself a heart attack trying to catch me!" Harry yelled from his perch on top of the swing set. Harry still hadn't figured out how he'd gotten up here, but it was rather amusing to watch Dudley and his gang try to get him down.
Dudley collapsed on the ground panting.
"There," Harry exclaimed, "once more and you might set off an earthquake."
Dudley growled and began turning bright red, Harry began to worry he might actually be having a heart attack. But as it turned out Harry was the one in immediate danger.
From an owl attack—in broad daylight no less, and if that didn't beat all it was holding a letter same font and ink color as the last one.
"Torturing owls now, Duddy?" Harry demanded, and he carefully caught the owl, gently untying the letter and setting the owl loose. As expected Dudley bristled at the use of the pet name, Harry mentally scored one for Harry.
Harry opened the letter and his head tilted it was the exact same letter! Harry looked down at Dudley, who'd now decided hitting Harry with rocks—when he found some—would be the best way to get him down.
Harry sighed and balled the letter up, only to be met with an accusing hoot from the owl that hadn't left.
Harry stared at it.
The owl waited.
"You want a reply?" Harry demanded, more of Dudley than the owl. The owl settled down next to Harry on the swing-set.
Harry unrolled the paper and flipped it over, digging in his pocket for a pencil and found one he began writing and reading out what he wrote. Harry was not going to be able to go home tonight if the look on Dudley's face was anything to go by…well, he couldn't go home if wanted to remain in one piece.
"Not only that," Harry jotted down, "but you must've been institutionalized because Christ knows the only place wizards exist are up your bloody arse…"
Harry then signed his name with a flourish, finishing, "…Harry Potter."
Harry calmly held the letter out to the owl. It held one of it's talons out and Harry took the string the letter came tied up in and attached the letter to the owl.
The owl hooted and flew away.
"Well, it appears to be one of the letters, another one from Harry Potter. But it looks as though he's opened it."
Dumbledore was studying the crumpled parchment he'd received at the breakfast table, and was now explaining to the professors at Hogwarts what the messy piece of parchment was.
"Well, go on," Professor McGonagall encouraged, "Read what the boy wrote."
Dumbledore's eyes lit up with a fierce twinkle and he rubbed his palms together excitedly and then read the letter.
"…Sincerely hoping you get some brain cells, Harry Potter. P.S. write me again and I'll call the cops."
All the teachers stared in shock.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "The boy is clearly quite confused…how about we pay him a visit tomorrow to clear things up for him."
"Boy get that."
Harry sighed and stood up from the breakfast table and walked out into the hallway heading to the front door.
The doorbell rang again.
"BOY!" Uncle Vernon yelled again.
Harry rolled his eyes and opened the door, staring at the two men and the woman behind it…mainly at their strange dress. They wore long draping…dresses? Mainly black, and the old man who couldn't be less than two hundred with a beard doing down to there was dressed in bright green and magenta with a tall pointed hat that effectively countered his beard. Harry tilted his head and fought the urge to slam the door shut.
"What in hell are you selling?"
"May we come in, my dear boy?" The old man asked, his bright blue eyes twinkling in a very freaky manner.
"Not until I get a background check," Harry replied, "and some credentials."
The old man shared a look with the woman and man, and then asked, "May we please speak with your aunt, my dear boy?"
Harry put his hand on his hip and stared the adults down and then replied, "I don't know, can you be left alone in a room with a normal person, unsupervised?"
"Who is it boy?" His uncle demanded, from the kitchen.
"They're either selling weird dresses," Harry replied, "or they want us to join a cult."
Aunt Petunia rushed out into the hall, and upon seeing the people gathered at the door promptly passed out. Harry spared her a second's glance before declaring, "I fully blame you for that."
Aunt Petunia moaned while she sobbed, rocking back and forth the ice pack on her forehead. Harry stared at her in absolute annoyance, while Uncle Vernon glared at him for daring to look at someone who was "superior" to him—way to sound Nazi Uncle Vernon.
"And that, Mr. Potter, is simply the fact of the matter," Dumbledore finished.
"So let me get this straight," Harry began.
"No," Uncle Vernon yelled, "we won't let you take him to that freak school of yours! We've been trying to beat this freakish—"
Harry kicked the glass coffee table violently, and everyone in the room stared at him as a glass knick-knack teetered precariously. Harry smiled pleasantly and continued, "So let me get this straight, you want me to come to this school of yours and learn witchcraft."
"Wizardry," The older woman, called McGonagall corrected without a thought.
"And then you want me to," Here Harry's brow furrowed, "bang this fellow Voldemort?"
The woman and the younger man flinched, and the woman corrected him with, "You-know-who!'
"No, I don't know who," Harry replied.
"She means Voldemort," Dumbledore replied, smiling gently. The woman and man flinched.
"Yeah," Harry said blinking in confusion, "that's what I said."
"The name Voldemort," they flinched, Harry decided he was going to have to see if that worked on everyone, "frightens many people," Dumbledore explained. "They prefer to refer to him as you-know-who."
"But if you were planning a surprise party," Harry asked, "would everyone think you were throwing a party for Voldemort? Like: what are you getting you-know-who for the you-know-what'?"
Dumbledore tugged on his beard, and replied thoughtfully, "Well…"
"Or what if you were talking to someone about their crush," Harry asked, "would everyone think you wanted to go with Voldemort? Like: 'You know who will definitely like that dress on you.'"
"Or what if your friends were talking to you about someone you didn't like," Harry proposed, "would you think they were talking about Voldemort? Like: 'you won't believe what—"
"In those cases!" Dumbledore interrupted loudly, "he is referred to as he-who-must-not-be-named."
"Oh, yes," Harry muttered, "that's definitely better; you have no idea how much that cuts down on confusion."
Harry's sarcasm was clearly not appreciated, he vaguely wondered if he would get detention like he did in school. They always checked other and wrote "condescending tone" next to it, it upset Harry because in such cases they overlooked his fantastic vocabulary. It should be "condescending tone and diction."
"Well, my dear boy—"
"What are you a pervert?" Harry demanded, "Because I can assure you, I'm not your dear anything…unless you pay in me in small countries and magical creatures. Then I'm sure we could work something out."
The older people appeared to not get it, but the vaguely ugly black haired man raised an eyebrow in question. Harry could tell the man liked him.
Or at least his sarcasm.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued, "there is nothing to fear in a name—"
"You're preaching," Harry said pointedly, "a creative writing teacher of mine said preaching was terrifically bland in a story, and that teenagers are particularly susceptible to it…someone should really watch out for it." (/author coughs in corner/ sorry about that…)
"Right, so back onto topic," Harry said clapping his hands, "you want me to go to your little school, learn witchcraft—"
"It said 'and!'" Harry retorted, "I'm perfectly all right in omitting one. Where was I? Ah, yes, wear your strange little dresses, and wave my magic wand to cast spells? Did I leave anything else?"
"Yes, that pretty much sums it up," Dumbledore replied calmly, clearly missing any sort of innuendo Harry might have implied.
"Sounds utterly delightful," Harry muttered, "it's too bad I don't get off on that sort of thing."
"Now," Dumbledore continued, "the term starts on September first, but you will need to go shopping sometime before then. I think it would be best if I sent Hagrid along—"
"Albus!" McGonagall chastised. "I certainly don't think—"
"Perhaps you're right," Dumbledore mumbled thoughtfully, Harry rolled his eyes heavenward. "We should send him with the Weasleys."
Harry's eyes snapped to Dumbledore, and he demanded, "The whats?"
McGonagall nodded thoughtfully and she conceded, "They do have two children about his age."
"And their young daughter," Dumbledore chuckled, McGonagall playfully slapped him, "yes, I imagine it is a bit early for that."
Harry muttered, crossing his arms, his brow furrowed in anger. "I probably won't like her anyway. If you like her, it's a pretty good I sign I won't."
"Now, Mister Potter," McGonagall chastised lightly, "you must make your own decisions about these things."
Harry rolled his eyes and this drew a slight sarcastic chuckle from the silent, dark haired man who hadn't said a word in the entire visit. Harry couldn't remember the man's name.
"Very true, Mister Potter," Dumbledore said in agreement, "opinions are not just something you gather from other people you know."
Harry's eyebrows hit his hairline (Alliteration!) and he stared at Dumbledore and McGonagall in a mixture of shock and annoyance. Harry vaguely wondered if he should inform them that they were currently trying to influence his opinion, but they quickly dropped the subject.
"I think that we should certainly send young Harry to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys," Dumbledore said again, "it would give him a good chance to see the magical world and make friends before he began school."
"You're being awfully optimistic," Harry told him, "me? Make friends? In one day? I have to say that the likelihood of you being turned into a superhero in a freak volcano accident is greater than me making friends."
"Now, Harry," Dumbledore continued gently, "I'm sure Ron and Ginny will surely like you just the way you are, there's no need to be self-conscious."
Harry scrunched up his eyebrows and asked, "Can you hear or are you just not paying any attention to a word I've said?"
Dumbledore didn't even bat an eyebrow, so Harry decided he was clearly deaf and so was the lady, "Now then, Severus, if you would give Mr. Potter his list of school supplies, we'll be heading out, and we'll owl you when the shopping excursion is to begin."
The man in black reached into his weird dress…thing and pulled out a letter just like the ones he though Dudley had been sending him. Clearly the whole situation was much more complicated that Harry had given it credit for.
These people were deaf escapees of a mental institution!
It all made sense now…and it of course only made sense that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been in the same hospital, because they were all nuts!
Harry felt much better now.
Harry took the letter from the man's long, skinny, yellow, stained hands, and then stared at it.
"Very well, then we will take our leave," Dumbledore declared and the three people in dresses headed to the door. It was then that Harry caught sight of his Uncle's livid eyes, and decided that these crazy cult members were better than the people he was forced to live with.
"Wait!" Harry exclaimed, "You aren't going to leave me here, are you?"
"Well, I certainly don't see why not, my dear boy," Dumbledore replied, and Harry decided to let the dear boy thing slide in favor of getting away from his crazy relatives that were probably going to beat him half dead.
"You can't just leave me here," Harry yelled, "I mean these people," he waved his hand at his aunt and uncle, "are like pure evil…at least to me. If you leave me here, I'll die!"
"I highly doubt that," Dumbledore replied, but he at least looked like he was halfway listening to Harry now.
Harry glanced at his enraged aunt and uncle and decided he needed to act fast.
"I'll show you where I sleep!" Harry declared.
"Boy!" Uncle Vernon exploded, "after all we've done for you!"
"Why don't we show them what all you've done for me, Uncle," Harry replied, "if you're so proud of it, well, come on, this way freaks in dresses, come see my bedroom."
Harry walked past them, toward the stairway, "Just have to go around here," Harry told them, "not hard to get here, doesn't require much effort.'
The three adults meandered their way over to him and then stopped when they saw where Harry was standing. Harry beamed and reached out for the door to the cupboard and could hear his aunt shrieking about ungrateful freaks, while his uncle threatened his well-being.
Harry threw my door open and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is where I sleep."
To Harry's surprise the severe younger man turned to look at Dumbledore looking a bit shocked, and the woman also turned to look at him, though she was glaring.
"I hate to say I told you so in light of such a situation," she said, angrily, "but Albus, I told you so."