Written for lastcrazyhorn's Big Future Challenge
Featuring: Giant!Harry, Snape-Harry mentorship
A/N: I'm always interested in new Harry versions, and I'm so happy for lastcrazyhorn to suggest an interest challenge. I just hope to do the topic justice. Let me know how I do with reviews please and if you have any questions! I'll try to check off most of lastcrazyhorn's items on the list, but it'll happen when it happens hopefully. Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: Do not own the characters, the world, or the writer, etc. I'm just doing the challenge. So it might not even be my idea. Who knows?
A Serving Extra Large
Harry scrunched down in the bathroom staring at the mirror, depressed. He'd grown. Again. "Damn," he muttered brushing at his fringe tiredly. His glasses were perched rather brokenly and the shirt that had once been too large, now comfortably fit him though it was rather stretched in the middle and a bit short, though the old pants of Uncle Vernon covered up the gap with a rather beaten belt of Dudley's. At six feet and eight inches Harry Potter, or as known at home, Boy or Freak, was exactly that, a freakishly tall almost eleven year old boy. He finished his day preparations as his aunt screeched for him.
"Boy!" He heard his aunt call from below made him curl even further in on himself. Over the past years his aunt had stopped chasing him with a frying pan, especially since he out grew her by several inches, but her verbal darts had just grown nastier. Shuffling out of the bathroom and down the stairs, he ducked under the doorway and dodged the kitchen's hanging light. She stood there and narrowed her eyes at him dangerously.
"Make breakfast, then take a plate outback before you do the lawn work," she barked waving a wooden spoon threateningly in front of his face.
"Yes ma'am," he said quietly. Hunching, he delicately opened the refrigerator door before pulling out the eggs, bacon, butter and vegetables. Quickly cutting and dicing with the large kitchen knife he prepared the frying pan. Hunching slightly over the stove top he added the bacon and quickly scrambled part of the eggs, while carefully preparing a pot for poached eggs and setting the tea kettle to heat after filling it. Setting the table he made sure to not break a glass by holding it too firmly. Placing an hand carved plate aside for his own breakfast, he moved on to pulling out the perfectly cooked bacon before saving the grease for the scrambled eggs after adding a touch of butter and olive oil. Soon he heard his aunt calling for Dudley, knowing he had only twenty minutes left he started on the poached eggs and hash. Heating another pan he added the prepared vegetables with the pre-cut and softened potatoes he prepped the night before. Soon the round bouncing ball of a boy came into the room. He sneered at his much larger, but thinner, cousin before plopping down in his seat. His mother, sniffed as she joined him, shoveling food onto his plate in large quantities. Harry set the orange juice, coffee and milk down before moving to leave out the kitchen door to eat outside as he had for the last five years.
"Freak!" He heard his uncle bark and he mentally sighed. Setting his plate down secretively on a bush he turned back and said politely, "Yes Uncle?"
"Fetch me the paper and mail!" His uncle barked, although he eyed his nephew carefully, he was a large man, but barely topped six foot, a full eight inches shorter than Harry, and his largess was from fat, not the wiry muscle Harry owned. Harry nodded and slipped around the kitchen, hunching under the doorway, and headed for the front door and mail slot. Picking up the mail he quickly organized it, frowned briefly at a thicker envelope made of some type of heavy parchment, but ignored the writing, and stacked it at the bottom before picking up the paper. He settled it all quietly at his uncle's elbow and left through the door once more.
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his breakfast and sidled over to sit under the shade of the shed on the iron wrought bench beside the bushes he meticulous trimmed every Saturday. Eating his toast, a ration of two slice of bacon, hash, and scrambled eggs he drank down his milk before taking both items back to the house. Entering he settled the items into the sink before turning to clear the table as usual. He stopped dead when he saw his uncle's purple face. His cousin had already left and his aunt was looking over his uncle's shoulder dead white. Glancing at what his uncle held in his hands was some strange type of paper, it was thick and slightly curled, which reminded him of the envelope this morning. He shrugged mentally, before going on to do what he always did when something upset them, do his chores and keep quiet. Collecting the plates, silverware and dishes he turned and place them neatly by the seat before tossing out the extra food, ignoring the constant urge to eat more. He set the platters there next to the earlier dishes he cleared before taking a rag and dampening it slightly on one edge. Turning back he cleaned off the table, scrapping the excess sauce and food into his hand before neatly tossing it into the trash. He rinsed off the rag and turned back to the table. Finding it finally vacated he slide around it to do a better wiping. Hearing the fire crackling in the living room he cocked his head to the side in surprise but shrugged.
"Bonkers the lot of them," he muttered under his breath as he turned the water on and carefully washed everything before drying it and putting it away. Leaving the kitchen he went on with his chores. The day went on as it usually did in the summer, he weeded, mended the fence, washed his uncle's car, cleaned the gutters, scrubbed the windows, mowed the lawn where it had popped up, and any other chore outside that needed doing before entering inside after his 'family' left to vacuum, dust, and any other sort of thing. He had a sandwich of leftover meatloaf and lettuce from an old salad, washed down with some water. He cleaned the mess before starting dinner. Popping the ham into the oven he set the water to boiling before starting the potatoes that would be going with it and making the cake batter. Hearing the door open he listened to his aunt enter and head up to 'tidy herself before dinner', then Dudley who stomped up the stairs to play his games, and then his uncle who thudded into the living room. Going in there he placed his uncle's slippers next to his armchair as per usual and poured him a finger of his brandy before slipping back into the kitchen, no thanks given.
Dinner went per usual, he ate in his room, they in the kitchen at the table and he finished the dishes before going to his room. Eight o'clock came around and the lock on his door snicked locking him in til seven o'clock the next morning as. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, but that envelope.
The rest of the week, however, did not go as per accustomed. Which was exactly why he found himself cat napping a stroke to midnight on his birthday on the floor in a cabin, in the middle of storm, in the middle of the sea utterly bewildered.
Waking up as the light on Dudley's watch flashed signaling midnight, Harry smiled to himself. "Happy birthday to you Harry m'boy, you're eleven years old today. Hurray Hurray Hurray," he murmured. Curling up he listened to the thunder and how strange, he would have sworn the storm was tapering off when it's loud slamming echoes were getting louder. Wait, was that the door? Glancing at it he felt around for his glasses. Pulling them on he was able to focus on them as the heavy wooden door burst off it's hinges and his uncle and aunt finally clattered down the stairs. Dudley, rather in a piggish fashion, woke up squealing in fear as an enormous man, even taller than Harry, and even wider than Uncle Vernon stood there in the doorway with a wide cheerful grin.
"Why," he said staring at Harry in a friendly fashion, "'ou must be 'Arry!" Harry blinked rather dumbly at the large man and nodded.
"Er, yes, yes sir I'm Harry, how do you do?" He said to the large man who smiled genially at him.
"Who are you oaf!" Uncle Vernon barked pointing his recently acquired shotgun at the stranger.
"Me? Oh, why 'm Hagrid, nice ta meetcha and all dat." The large man, Hagrid said glancing at the man almost warily. "Now Muggle iffin you would jus' butt out fer a moment I'da like ta talk to 'Arry 'ere."
"Muggle?" I ask surprised, "what's a Muggle?" Hagrid just smiled at me.
"A non-magical folk," he said in a chipper, "someone who ain't a wizard like you and mes. A person who ain' got da ability to do magic!"
"Uhm... I can't do magic, Mr. Hagrid," Harry told him.
"Incompetent boy," he heard someone snap.
"Oops! Fergots you were der Pr'fessor Snape," Hagrid said moving farther in. A man taller than his uncle, but shorter than he glided into the room.
"You!" His aunt hissed.
"Tuney," the man smirked, "how unpleasant it is to see you."
"Yo-you freak! You stole my sister from me! You and that horrible horrible school!" Aunt Petunia hissed venomously. "Vernon shoot them! Make them leave this instant!"
"Right you lot, I'll give you to the count of three to get out or I'll shoot you." Uncle Vernon said gesturing wildly with his weapon. Hagrid scowled and Professor Snape sneered.
"We will not, so please be quiet," Professor Snape drawled pulling a thick vellum envelope out of his sleeve, "while I give Mr. Potter his letter." His uncle turned puce and his aunt deadly pale.
"No!" Aunt Petunia screeched launching herself off the stairs at him. The man simply whipped something else out of his sleeve and snapped, "Stupefy!" She froze collapsing onto the couch on top of her obese son.
"Interesting," Harry said mildly before glancing at the somberly dressed wizard, "it's nice to meet you Professor Snape. However, I don't quite understand what exactly is going on."
"Of course you do not, however I believe it will be rectified the moment you read your letter." Professor Snape sneered holding out the envelope.
"Thank you?" Harry said uncertainly as he carefully opened the envelope.
"Oh no you don't!" His uncle said swinging his gun around to point at Harry and the professor.
"Watch where yer pointin' tha' thing!" Hagrid said yanking it out of Uncle Vernon's hands. "Yer bound ter injur' yerself yer 're." Taking the gun in his hands he twisted like a pretzel before throwing it out the still open door. "Oops, I'd betta shut dat, lettin' in da damp I am." And lifting up the door he shut it.
"Thank you Hagrid," Harry said weakly before pulling out the strange parchment and unfolding the creases. Ignoring his uncle's screams, and his cousin blubbering Harry read the words.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find the enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Harry stared at the page, before promptly looking over the next page and then rereading both. He glanced up and blinked slowly.
"I see. I really am a wizard?" He glanced at the professor who rolled his eyes before nodding. "And I am required to go to school to learn to be a proper one," another nod. Harry nodded to himself. "How am I paying for it, how do I get there, do I have to have my aunt and uncle to agree to go there, and how do I get the necessary supplies?"
"Good questions," the professor said slightly startled, though there was a look of slight approval know in those dark eyes, "your tuition was paid by your parents."
"But my parents are dead." Harry said, "did they pay for it while I was still in their care?"
"Yes, your name has been on the list of attendees, as Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore like to gloat, since you were born. Your parents knew you would go and made the necessary monetary adjustments for it." Professor Snape said.
"Oh, how did they know? Did they get a letter as well telling them that I'd be a wizard?" Harry asked.
"They knew because they were a witch and wizard as well," the man said in an annoyed fashion.
"Oh, then how did they die in a car crash if they were a wizard and a witch," Harry asked him and his eyes narrow dangerously.
"What was did you say? You think your parents died in a car crash." He hissed. Hagrid who had been fishing for something in his pockets turned around and stared at them.
"Yer parents neva died in no car crash 'Arry!" Hagrid said startled, "they was killed in da war against da dark!" Snape, on the other hand, turned away from the boy and glared at his uncle.
"You told him his parents were killed in a car accident," the professor hissed. His uncle glanced helplessly at his wife and the man rounded on her. "Evvenerate!" He barked pointing his stick, maybe a wand?, at her. His aunt jerked away and started screaming. "Silence shrew!"
"Wha-wha-what happened?" She said weakly trying to hide Dudley behind her thin frame.
"You told the boy his parents died in a car crash?" The professor snarled.
"So?" She tried to say in a superior fashion, "it made more sense than saying some Dark Lord killed her in a war she never should have been a part in! Just because she was a freak doesn't mean she should ha-"
"She was not a freak. She was a witch! Something you were jealous of then later despised her for! She was a beautiful person something your horse like features would never deign to match! Was your pettiness why the boy does not know who he truly is Petunia Evens? Or was it the fact you could not stand the fact he had what you never would?" Petunia's face went through a series of emotions before landing and saying on bitterness.
"I hate him because he got her killed!" She finally cried. "If she never had him she would have never been hunted down by that nutter!"
"So blame the child, the victim, disgusting!" The man finally snarled. He rounded on Harry who was staring at them all blankly. "You, young man, are a wizard with a fantastical background. During the war, a very terrible man, the leader of those wreaking havoc on our society, a wizard by the name of Lord Voldermort, who we call He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, decided to target you, forcing your parents into hiding," Harry could feel the tears well up, "they were lucky for approximately a year before they were betrayed. On October 31st, 1981 your home was visited by the man and your parents murdered. When he turned his wand on you to kill you, something unthinkable happened."
"What?" Harry said wiping at his face. Hagrid moved over and offered him a large handkerchief which Harry took with a nod of thanks blowing his nose.
"You survived," the man said. "You survived what is called the Killing Curse. Something no one survived, that is, until you. Thanks to that you are exceedingly famous in our world."
"Why did I survive? How did I survive?" Harry asked.
"No one knows," Professor Snape stated softly. "Though the Headmaster proclaims that it's the love of your mother, I prefer to think it was her wisdom. She was an extraordinary witch and married to, though I find it hard to say, a powerful wizard. I have no doubt your parents were the reason you're alive to this day. So be thankful for that."
"I am." Harry said. The professor nodded and was silent for a moment.
"Now for your other questions," the professor said shaking off whatever had a hold of him, "for your third one, you do not need your aunt and uncle's permission. Your parents agreed when you were a babe, and even if they hadn't they would not be able to prevent you from going. As for your second and fourth, that will come in time. In fact, we shall be escorting you to get your supplies since it is obvious you are going."
"Now wait just a minute," Uncle Vernon tried to bluster. "You can't just take the boy!" The professor rounded on him and pointed the wand at the couple with the cowering boy behind them.
"I can, I shall, and I may. I suggest you get back to your cookie cutter house, and your pathetic little lives. We shall return the young Mr. Potter when it is convenient for us, and you shall do your best to be proper people who can adequately care for a child, although the state your own is in is a clear sign that you lack the ability. None the less, if the child looks any worse to wear when I come to fetch him at nine o'clock September 1st, I suggest you expect the worse, because I will do my very, exemplary best." After the Dursley's nodded, he replaced his wand from where it came from and nodded, "come Mr. Potter. We best be on our way."
"Yes Professor, sir," Harry said.
"Take my arm, you too Hagrid," Professor Snape said. Harry took his arm almost shyly and Hagrid gripped the other man's shoulder. "Now this will be a bit strange, but you must not let go." Harry cocked an eyebrow at that and nearly did let go when he felt a sudden jerk. Clenching his eyes shut he felt his feet leave the ground for a brief moment before reconnecting. He let go and took a deep breath before letting it out in a hiss. Squinting his eyes he saw they were in a rather plain and dingy pub.
"Whe-where are we Professor?" Harry asked dazed.
"The Leaky Cauldron. We'll be picking up your school supplies in the morning." The man stated. "Tom," he said to the bartender, "three rooms if you please, with beds that fit all of us. Charge it to Dumbledore, he said he would expect you to give him a reasonable price."
"Of course Professor, here's yous goes, number twelve for you, number fifteen for your guest, and number thirty nine for Hagrid. The bed'll stretch extra iffin you needs it to."
"Thank you Tom," the professor said followed by a soft thanks from Harry and a chipper, if rock sounding, one from Hagrid. The gaunt and darkly dressed man led them up the stairs. Hagrid stumped along further after Harry was deposited in front of his room with his key. "In you go Mr. Potter, I expect you to be up bright and early. If you are not up when I knock I will be most displeased. Do you need anything to sleep in?"
"No sir, I'll be alright. I'll see you in the morning, bright and early. I'm used to waking up at seven, so I doubt I'll be troubling you too much I hope." Harry said earnestly earning a nod. He entered his room and smiled at the bed. It was long and narrow much like him and there was a single table next to it with an unlit candle and a match box with the grimy words 'Leaky Cauldron' emblazoned on it. Taking off his sweater, jeans and shoes, he folded them and set them on the end of his bed before sliding under the worn, but warm quilt. Setting his glasses to the side he fell asleep wondering at this sudden climax of strange and wonderful events.