I do not own anything of either Harry Potter or Stargate
Thanks to the stories Oma's choice, The Next Great Adventure, and Fighting the Gods. These are all really good Hp/SG crossovers and if you haven't read them, I encourage you to do so, they were part of what inspired me to (finally) write this fic.
July 3, 1987
Little Whinging Public Library
Harry wasn't a very sociable child. Where other children often spent their time running around and screaming at the top of their lungs, he spent most of his time in the Library, his Sanctuary.
At school, he had no friends, no real mentors, no one that really cared what he did. He was 'that troubled child', the one whose parents died from drinking and driving and was taken in by the Dursleys out of the goodness of their hearts.
He scoffed at the thought. The Dursleys had no hearts. Petunia and Vernon were married, but they did not truly care for each other. He could see it, the way that they had no shows of affection for each other, while they gushed over their whale of a son. It was almost…sad.
Not that he really cared for them though. As long as he could remember, they had hated him. He had vague memories of a smile, of music and laughter and green eyes much like his own. But after a while he dismissed them as wishful thinking, a hope for love in a house in which he received none. Hell, the Dursleys treated him like he was a disease they could never be rid of, something to be ignored and hated at all costs. And he had done nothing to them.
They said he was unnatural, freaky, a thing, but when had he done anything that was out of the norm for a kid? Besides reading. Or staying indoors (though that was mostly because of Dudley), or never showing a smile or any other emotion in their presence(again, the Dursleys fault). It was like they expected him to turn them all into toads.
He could tell that it unnerved his teachers in school, how quickly he picked things up, how he always knew the right answer, but to be honest, he couldn't really care what they thought. It wasn't like they cared about him. It wasn't like anyone actually cared about him, so who would care if he just disappeared?
He shook his head wistfully. He was not the most physically inclined kind of person, especially because of his age. It would be insane, idiotic, to leave the Dursleys for the unknown , even with the slaps and punches and verbal abuse every day. For all he knew, he could be kidnapped by one of those 'bad men' that their teachers in school were always warning them about.
He gasped lightly from his seat as a painful twinge made its way through his heart. That was the fourth time this week, and the second one today. He knew it had nothing to do with his heart, and it felt too sharp for growing pains, but other than that, he had no clue. He doubted it was something that would kill him, after all, what kind of childhood sickness would allow him to live this long without medical intervention? He also knew that even if it were something that was life threatening, the Dursleys would hardly take him to the hospital. They would be happy if the freak, the burden in their lives was gone for good, six feet under, pushing daisies, and so on.
Harry shook his head to clear out the unwanted thoughts. He hadn't come to library to ponder his unhappy life. He had come here to study more maths, given that the multiplication tables he had already mastered weren't even taught until third grade. And so, he had brought a few scraps of paper from Vernon's office, along with a few stubby pencils, to take some notes. He only had until midday before he had to leave.
By the time he returned home, the pains had happened twice more, and in smaller intervals than the last two. He was starting to feel just a little worried. He had a decent pain tolerance, mostly thanks to Dudley and his little gang, but the last pain had really hurt, enough to make him hiss loudly.
He started to do the cooking, hearing the slam of the door that told him Dudley had come home from the park. His cousin was a menace, a fat bully that chased all of the other children around the park and acted like he was the king of the world. He heard the TV switch on and let out a sigh of relief. The boy took almost every opportunity that he could to get Harry in trouble, messing with the chores he was given, tearing up his homework, you name it, Dudley had done it. And of course, since he was the perfect child that could do no wrong, his parents ignored anything the remotely said he did something bad, even his teachers at school. Harry hid a small smile at the letter the school nurse had sent them with her concerns over his cousin's weight. The boy was only seven and he was already considered overweight, nearly obese.
"BOY! WHY HAVEN'T YOU FINISHED DINNER YET!" And there was his uncle. Never mind the fact that the man usually came home much later in the evenings, if the dinner was not finished by the time he came home, he would blame Harry.
He waited until his uncle came into the room, knowing that the man would say he was 'yelling in the house' otherwise. "I'm sorry for not starting sooner sir, I'll finish it in about twenty minutes." He said, not quite soft, but enough to be deferential, submissive. He hated acting like that, but he knew it was better than inciting his uncle's anger with 'disrespectful behavior'.
The man's beady little eyes narrowed in on him before the man grunted and moved off into the living room. Harry waited until he was sure that the man was gone before turning around to continue working on the dinner.
After he had been allowed his scraps, he quietly made his way to the cupboard under the stairs, wincing at the pains. He knew something was dreadfully wrong with him, but he also knew that the Dursleys would not really care if he keeled over, unless it somehow got them in trouble. He smiled in morbid humor. That would be ironic, given the reputation they provided for him within Little Whinging.
It wasn't until the house was asleep that he felt something…wrong. He blearily opened his eyes, and then screwed them shut as pain overcame him. It was everywhere, every nerve and muscle of his body felt like they were in agony, that there was something like fire…no, lightning tearing him apart from the inside.
And then, suddenly, he felt something within him snap, and what felt like a torrent of cooling water moved through him, soothing his pains. Exhausted from the ordeal, he collapsed, not noticing the faint streams of white light moving around him before they disappeared.
Edit 7/13/13: People kept on telling me about the hospitals being paid for in britain, so I have finally changed it; now it says the Dursleys would never take him to the hospital instead of pay for him to go.