AN: Hi everyone here the first chapter of House of Potter. As Being no Potter this is AU (sort of) but that's all this two stories have in common. Harrys parents are – and will stay in this story – dead.
Before I forget it: I do not own Harry Potter! I just write for fun – so, no money!
I Hope you like it! Reviews are welcome.
Chapter 1. The letter
It was the first week of July and the sun was beating down. Most people receded in the coolness of their houses or sat in shadowy places. The people of Little Whining, Surrey were no exception. The streets were nearly empty. Only the ice parlour made the business of the year.
In Number 4 Privet Drive only a lone person was working down in the heat weeding the garden. It was a small and skinny boy. No one would have believed him to be fourteen in only a few weeks time and would guess him to be ten or eleven at the most. His skin was a healthy tan from all the work in the sun over the last days. His clothes were worn and at least three sizes too big for him.
Stretching the boy looked up from his work and run a hand through his unruly black hair. For a short moment a scar, oddly shaped like a lightning bolt became visible before it vanished again behind thick bangs. Deep emerald eyes behind round glasses gazed over the finished flower beds. If someone would have looked closer they would have seen that the boys' eyes looked sad. Picking up his tools the boy went to the shed in the back of the garden to put them away. Cleaning himself up at a bucked with rain water he looked over the garden one last time before he went inside.
A bony woman with a horse-like face looked up from the magazine she was reading.
"Are you finished, boy?" she asked. The boy didn't seem to be fazed by the harsh tone and didn't bat an eyelash. He nodded.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia!" he calmly answered. When he received a curt nod he went to go upstairs to shower.
Petunia saw the boy leave and turned her attendance back to the magazine in her hands. Petunia Dursley was a normal woman, thank you very much. She had a normal, hard working husband named Vernon and a normal son named Dudley (if you called a fourteen year old bully with the weight of a baby orca normal). She lived in a normal neighbourhood and cherished her normal life.
The only thing that disturbed her normal life was Petunias nephew, Harry Potter. He was the son of her deceased sister Lily Evans Potter and her husband James – and he was anything but normal. Harry Potter was a wizard. A wizard who was about to begin his fourth year of his save year long education at Hogwarts – School for Witchcraft and Wizardry; and Petunia hated him for that.
Said young wizard sat down at his desk after a long shower. Sighting he picked up a quill and opened his transfiguration textbook. From year to year the homework they received to do over the holidays seemed to become more and more. Harry's transfiguration teacher and Head of House Professor Minerva McGonagall liked to pick especially tricky homework.
Sighting again Harry put his quill down only half an hour later he couldn't bring himself to concentrate. Sad he looked out of the window; the normally sparkling green eyes dulled. Coming back to the Dursleys after his third year at Hogwarts had been harder than ever before. Harder, because Harry now knew what he could have had. Harry's godfather, innocently imprisoned at the wizarding prison of Azkaban for nearly twelve years had escaped the summer a year ago. Thinking Sirius Black guilty of betraying his parents Harry had finally confronted his godfather at the Shrieking Shack near Hogsmeade. Harry's best friends pet Scabbers was revealed to be Peter Pettigrew, an illegal animagus and the real traitor.
Sirius had asked him to live with him and for nearly a whole hour Harry had dreamed of finally to be able to leave his dreaded relatives. But Harry's dream had not become true. Pettigrew had escaped, Sirius had to flee and Harry had no choice but to go back to the Dursleys for the main part of his holidays.
While Harry sat there, brooding over the lost chance to live with his godfather, a colourful bird flew right trough the window in Harry's room. Curiously the boy regarded the obviously tropical bird which had an envelope tied at his left leg. Carefully Harry opened the knot and offered the bird a bowl with water and a few owl treats. His snowy white owl Hedwig regarded the other bird closely for a few moment before she, obviously finding it acceptable, went back to sleep.
Chuckling at his familiars' antics Harry opened the letter and began to read:
I am fine and, like you can see at my feathery friend, far from British soil. SO STOP WORRIING! After your reacting when I asked you if you wanted to live with me added to what your Mom told me about her sister I hope that your relatives are treating you right.
Actually it was not that bad, Harry thought. On the way back from Kings Cross Harry had accidentally told his Aunt and Uncle that his godfather, who was by the way an escaped convict, wanted him to keep in contact. Again by accident Harry had forgotten to tell his relatives that Sirius was actually innocent. The Dursleys didn't even dare to give him more than a few chores and left him alone for the most time. Happy that Sirius obviously cared Harry resumed reading.
If not feel free to tell me so I can spend a little visit at your aunt's house. I am the adult here and it's my responsibility (Yes I know what that is) to protect you – not the other way around.
That said now to a more serious matter.
Even though I left in something of haste it caught my attention that you are not wearing your heir ring. And these hideous clothes all through the school year! Harry, you are the last heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter as well as well as at least one other family. Dumbledore told me that you do not like your fame, but Harry! As the heir of such an old family like the Potters you have responsibilities. At the future Lord Potter your stand should be seen in your demeanour and appearance.
Please don't understand me wrong! I don't say you should become arrogant and stuck up like many others of old pureblood families. But you should dress accordingly and show more confidence in yourself.
Having said this let me tell you that I love you and I am proud of the fine young man you have become. I know that both your parents would be proud of you too.
Harry stared at the letter for a long time. Heir ring? House of Potter? Lord? What in Merlin's name was Sirius talking about?
Deciding that he wouldn't get an answer by staring Harry took a fresh piece of parchment and his quill and began to write
Last Heir? House of Potter? What by Merlin's twisted beard are you talking about? I mean, with the Dursleys kicking me around making me do all the chores in and around the house while Dudley is practically glued to the TV how can I be a Lord? And my clothes! What do you expect? It's not like the Dursleys ever bought me anything and Dudley's old things are more than a few sizes too big for me.
If I am really a Lord (or will be) than why did no one ever bother to tell me? How am I supposed to know? Its not that I knew I was a wizard before I became my Hogwarts letter three years ago. What am I supposed to do? Sorry about my rambling but who was supposed to tell me?
I am glad you are safe. The Dursleys are okay for now.
Looking up from his writings Harry saw that the colourful bird was sleeping. Deciding that his letter could wait until the next morning Harry went down to dinner.
It wouldn't be much. After years of uncontrolled eating the school nurse of Dudley's school, Smeltings, had finally send (again) a few well chosen words with his end of the year report. So Dudley, and with him everyone else in the Dursley household was on diet. When Harry came back from Hogwarts at the end of June he reacted at once, sending a plea of help to all his friends. It was not that he needed a diet. And now, hidden under a loose floorboard in Harry's room was a rich assortment of pasties, cakes, sugar-free snacks and fruit (in a box under a preservation charm). So Harry ate his salad without comment and, after cleaning up, went upstairs to finish his transfiguration homework and finish a large piece of Mrs Weasleys fruitcake.