Alright, this is another plot bunny that ambushed me in the night, I hope you guys like this one as much as Runaways. I do not own Harry Potter, only my idea.
Chapter 1: Criminal
Six-Year-Old Harry Potter was standing on the roof of the Dursley's house, watching as Dudley and his band of friends tried to climb the walls to reach him. He had no idea how he had gotten up here, but he knew it meant he wouldn't be eating tonight, because not understanding what happened = freakishness, the highest crime you could commit in the Dursley household.
Uncle Vernon had made it clear that he wouldn't tolerate any of Harry's 'freakishness' inside his house, and any forthcoming would be met with being locked in the cupboard that served as his room or not being fed that day. Usually a combination of the two. Petunia would also deliver earsplitting lectures in a high pitched voice that never seemed to end. Other crimes included backtalk, outclassing their precious 'Dudders', and not doing his chores when he was told to. If he made them angry enough, they would hold a hand under hot water for a while, until it hurt so much he almost cried.
Vernon made sure everyone knew he was a freak so no one would want to be friends with him. He also didn't care that Dudley and his friends went after him and beat him up together. He would come home bruised and battered and usually to add insult to injury he would get in trouble for 'starting it'.
Harry didn't know what he had done to make Dudley hate him so much; was it just because he existed? But he hardly stole any of his aunt and uncle's attention; he didn't get more presents than Dudley and he would get in trouble if he ever got higher grades than his cousin. So why? Why?
He had asked himself that question so many times. Why? Why had his parents abandoned him to these people? Why did these strange things keep happening around him? Why did everyone hate him for these things, which he seemingly had no control over?
Harry was sad and lonely but today he was mostly angry.
Petunia and Vernon said he was a freak and a troublemaker. He had no idea what he had done to warrant that but apparently it was so.
And the last time he had been thrown in his cupboard a thought had snuck into his head; maybe he should do something bad. Something wrong. Something he wasn't supposed to. He could get back at them by breaking these things they liked so much, their precious 'rules'.
He was going to be punished either way, so why not do something? Why keep shying away from it when nothing he did could convince them he wasn't a bad boy?
He'd shooed the thought away, at first. He was appalled at the thought of deliberately antagonizing the Dursleys. They were hard enough on him as it was; deliberately disobeying them could only make it so much worse! Why give them extra reasons to hate him?
But two days later, shut up in his closet again for getting praised over Dudley for his artwork, the thought returned to him, more powerful than before. Dudley didn't deserve praise, and he did good work, why was he getting shut up? It wasn't worth being good, he just got in trouble anyway.
Do the dishes, do the weeding, do the mopping. It never ended. Paint the fence, do the laundry, stop getting better grades than Dudley, stop outrunning Dudley. Something was always wrong. Always. No matter what he did, they were always angry. They were never happy. They were never proud of him. He was just a freak and a burden. He never did anything right.
He was absolutely sick of it.
Maybe I can make something freakish happen. Screw just sitting here and waiting for whatever they're going to punish me for next. If I'm going to be a bad freak, I'm going to be a bad freak!
Harry glared hard at Dudley and John's hands. He felt something stir within him. Suddenly, with a scream, they fell from the roof, hit the alcove over the back porch and rolled off it onto the ground. Dudley started screaming his head off, summoning Petunia from the house.
Emboldened by his success, Harry glared down at his aunt's head, attempting to repeat what he had just done. Sure enough, he felt that strange pressure inside him.
Petunia screamed, and with a loud CRASH every window in the Dursley house, and every house on either side four houses down shattered.
Harry couldn't help it, he giggled. He had always thought Petunia's scream was like shattering glass; now he had proof!
Vernon waddled out of the house, shouting at the top of his lungs, Petunia was screaming uselessly and leaning over his whale of a cousin, and John's mother ran over from the house next door having heard her neighbour shriek.
Eventually Dudley – the little tattletale – pointed at the rooftop where Harry was sitting and giggling. John's mother shot to her feet and said, "that boy's gone too far, I'm calling the cops on him!"
"N-No Olive, don't worry, we can punish him," Vernon said, flustered. He didn't want the cops coming into his house and asking too many questions; he didn't want them to see the cupboard.
But Olive was vehmently shaking her head, and declared, "No, this is a professional case, he's broken my boy's wrist, bruised him terribly and knocked the wind out of him! That's criminal behavoir! Some time in Juive will set that little horror straight, I think!" She determinedly ran back into her house to get her phone, John whimpering pathetically on the lawn.
Harry had frozen at the words cops. He hadn't expected them to be called! Vernon always handled his punishments! But, what could the cops do that Vernon hadn't already done? They couldn't come up with anything he couldn't. There was no way they could be any worse.
The car came thirty minutes later, sirens blazing, an ambulance right behind it.
Officer Linda Parker was at a loss. She stared at the black haired boy in front of her, no more than six. She had never gotten an attack from someone this young in all her years as a police officer. Bone breaking had always been an accident. The boy didn't seem the malicious type, either: small, slight and downcast. She took a deep breath. There were protocols for dealing with child offenders; she just had to follow them. "Hello Harry, I am officer Linda Parker. I'm here to talk to you because - "
"I'm a freak?" The boy asked, his harsh, cold tone at odds with both his face and his age.
Linda blinked. That...wasn't what she was expecting. "I'm sorry?"
"I'm a freak." The boy repeated, his tone still angry and resolute. "My aunt and uncle always say that. Bad things happen because of my freakishness. Everyone says so. I'm always in trouble for it and no one ever cares."
Linda made a mental note to interrogate the boy's guardians afterwards. Calling a young boy a freak? That was not a good sign, he could be making it up but he sounded so raw and angry. She said calmly, "No, that's not what I was going to say. You understand you did something wrong? Your cousin could have been seriously injured when you knocked him off the roof."
"And they'll do what?" Harry challenged. "Toss me in my cupboard? Scream at me? I'm always in trouble. I'm always wrong. So I might as well be bad. At least I get something out of it then." He looked defiantly at her. "So send me away. Lock me up. It can't be worse than what I've already had to put up with for things I can't even control!" He scowled. "Dudley always hits me. It's time I hit him back."
In any other scenario Linda would have added 'disrespect to an authority figure' to the list of breaches Harry had committed, but the tone of it held her back. If this family was abusing him – and what Harry had just said was more than suspicious – she was going to throw them in jail. "Well, Harry, I'm going to talk to your aunt and uncle afterwards." She looked the boy up and down. "You're going to be moved to a temporary schooling place for other boys like you. You'll go there tomorrow, it won't be for long and it won't interrupt your schooling. Okay?"
Harry nodded, and Linda could have sworn he was smiling.
Vernon blinked. The policewoman who had been talking to the freak had now turned towards him and looked serious. She approached him just as the ambulance holding Petunia, Dudley and John was getting ready to leave.
"Sir, may I have a moment of your time?" She asked, sounding like she was trying to hold her temper.
"Yes ma'am?" He asked.
"I was just speaking to Harry, and he's said some things that have left me a little concerned." The policewoman, Parker, said.
"What kind of things?" Vernon asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"Well, according to him, you call him freak instead of Harry, you punish him for things he hasn't done, he sleeps in a cupboard, and Dudley attacks him." Parker responded.
"He-He's exaggerating!" Vernon said, praying the woman couldn't see his hands shaking or the sweat starting to pour down his forehead. "The b-Harry has always been a troublemaker but he hates being punished, so he tries to make us look bad."
The Parker woman's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "May I see his room, then?" She asked in a tone that said, 'asking is a formality, refuse and I'll order you.'
Vernon's mind raced; he had to find a way to satisfy this woman. "O-Of course! This way please," He said, leading her up the stairwell.
With a burst of thought, he took her into Dudley's second bedroom. It had toys there and looked like a young boy's room. He turned and opened the door.
Officer Parker looked around the room, frowning. There were plenty of toys in here, but it looked unused. Maybe she was imagining it, but she was going to give these people the benefit of the doubt for now. She'd come back later. "I see. Thank you Mr. Dursley, I'll be here tomorrow at 9:00 to pick up your nephew." She turned and left the house.
As soon as he was sure she was gone Vernon sagged against the doorframe in relief. That had been a close one. Once the freak got back from the correctional facility he'd have to move him to Dudley's second bedroom...the woman was clearly suspicious and would probably come back. He'd tell Petunia about the switch as soon as possible.
Harry stared out the broken window frame at the Dursley's house from Figg's place. Vernon had gone off to see Dudley at the hospital and that left him stuck here. He stared at the screens that had been put over the broken windows and he smiled.
He waited until Figg was asleep, grabbed a leather bag and went back to the house that was his prison. He took a kitchen knife and pried one of the screens open. He pushed past it and climbed into the house.
Harry walked up the stairwell towards Aunt Petunia's room. He figured that if he could grab some of her jewelry he could sell it and buy himself some decent clothes and a new pair of glasses. The drawer wasn't hard to find. He grabbed some golden necklaces and a handful of earrings and went back to outside.
It took some walking about, but he found a man named Ryan DeSantos, who traded things for money or favours. Harry had heard of him from one of Dudley's friends.
"Hey kid," Ryan grinned at the small boy, he had heard Petunia yelling at this poor kid many times he had passed her house, he had figured it was only a matter of time before he turned to criminal activity to get away from it. "Got something for me?"
"Yessir." Harry responded, opening the bag with Petunia's jewlery. Ryan's grin widened and he reached into his pockets for the appropriate amount of money.
"Good luck kid. Some advice for you – try not to get caught too many times, or they'll transfer you to an adult system."
"Thanks. I'll remember that."
Eventually Harry opted to buy himself some books after deciding to show up for the police as his usual ragged self, no one had cared before so why would they care now? The policewoman from yesterday had sighed when she saw his glasses and clothes and declared that she'd have to replace them when they got to Juvie. Harry just shrugged and entered the police vheicle.
It took an hour but they eventually reached their destination. Harry stared up at Juvenile Hall, eyes wide. It was a cold iron building that looked as forbidding as a haunted house, with bars on the windows and grey paint. Linda stepped out of the car and held out her hand expectantly. Harry accepted it in silence and let her pull him past the doors.
"Potter, Harry?" The receptionist asked. Harry nodded and watched as she handed him a grey outfit with a prison number written on it. It was better than anything Vernon had gotten him, and that made him smile. "Now, there aren't many offenders in this area, so the girls and boys are in the same room together. You'll get regular meals but no deserts. Your teachers and warden will explain more when you go inside." She indicated the door to the right.
Linda shuffled Harry through the door and closed it behind him.
Harry took a deep breath and looked around the room. There was a long table in the middle where the other inmates were already eating lunch. He counted at least thirty two in total.
He took a nervous breath and walked over to the edge of the table, the only seat being next to an intimidating blonde girl who looked about a year older than him.
The girl looked up and raised an eyebrow. She had the bluest eyes Harry had ever seen, but there was barely any warmth in them. "You can sit down. I don't bite."
"Yeah, right." The boy across from her muttered. "You might not bite but your punch so makes up for it."
The blonde skewered him with a glare, and Harry, despite his nervousness, found himself stifling a giggle. He sat down next to the girl and started eating, causing one of the other boys to look at him in awe.
"You don't look like a troublemaker." The boy said, looking over Harry critically. "In fact, you look like a breeze will carry you away."
"Get stuffed, Pierce. We can't help what we look like." The blonde retorted. She turned to Harry and frowned. "You do look thin, though. Eat up. You don't want to be weak around here." She glanced further up the table where several of the older boys and girls were looking at Harry as though he were their next meal.
Harry nodded obediently and dug into the rice and peas on his plate. They were dry but they were better than any food he'd eaten in a month. Pierce exchanged a shocked look with the girl sitting next to him. No one ate prison food that willingly.
"What's your name, kid?" The intimidating girl asked.
"Freak." Harry responded without thinking. When her eyes widened, he caught his mistake. "I mean, it's Harry. Harry James Potter." He said the last bit happily. He had written it on the inside of his door to ensure that he had a link to his mysterious parents, even as weak as his name.
"Why...?" Pierce started asking warily, before trailing off as though guessing the answer before Harry could answer.
"If we're going with middle names, then I'm Carrie Anna Fawkes." The intimidating blonde girl told him. "Welcome to jail."
"I'm Pierce Daniel Collins." Pierce offered. "Please, no James Bond jokes. And this is my twin sister, Miranda Collins."
Harry looked curiously at Pierce. "Nice to meet you...who's James Bond?"
Pierce looked aghast. "You're British, and you've never heard of James Bond? Treachery! High Treason!"
"Don't be such a drama king." Carrie rolled her eyes. "He's a fictional spy, Harry. And a damn good one at that."
"Oh," Harry said, feeling a little stupid.
Miranda, with identical brown hair and brown eyes to her brother, asked, "Why did you say your name was freak?"
"'Cuz my cousin and my aunt 'n uncle always call me that." Harry mumbled, not looking at any of them. "They don't like me."
Miranda curled her lip. "And it just goes to show what the justice system of the world is like that you're in jail instead of them."
"Don't say that in earshot of the warden." Pierce muttered. "You'll be running laps around the parking lot until your legs fall off."
Carrie snorted. "Some things are just fundamentally stacked against you. Want a piece of advice Harry? Never trust anyone over 25 years old. They have very different priorities, and you're always going to suffer for them."
"You think so?" Harry asked carefully. Pierce said Carrie's punches hurt a lot, and she looked like solid muscle.
Carrie snorted. "I'm speaking from personal experience, kid. They're not going to care until its their ass on the line, and even then their attempts to change anything are pathetic and hollow."
Harry looked curiously. "Why are you here?" He asked.
Carrie tossed her blonde hair and smirked down at Harry; she was a good head taller than him. "I trashed my dad's pickup truck." She said with a smirk. "On purpose. I also get into fights...a lot. I have a temper on me." She scowled. "A few years with my family and you'll have one too."
"I knocked a boy unconscious with a chair at school." Pierce offered. "But he was a bully, and a mean one at that."
"I'm a kleptomaniac, and our parents won't get me looked at." Miranda said flatly, an undercurrent of fierce anger in her words.
"Kleptomani?" Harry asked, tripping over the big word.
"It means I steal. I steal and I steal and I steal and I can't seem to resist the urge or stop doing it, no matter how much trouble I get into." Miranda explained. "It's when you feel compelled to take things, not for personal gain but for reasons you can't explain."
"Oh." Harry thought about that. "I knocked my cousin and his friend off the roof of our house. They were chasing me and they were going to attack me. They at least broke their wrists when they hit the ground," He added, hoping to impress his new cellmates.
Carrie smirked and roughly ran her fingers through his messy hair. "Cool. I think you'll do fine here. Do you know how long you'll be here?"
"A few weeks, I think?" Harry responded, trying to remember what the receptionist had said.
"Great! We'll make a hell-raiser out of you yet." Pierce said happily.
"Attention!" A new voice barked.
Carrie, Pierce and Miranda immediately sprang to their feet. Harry look at them in confusion before Carrie roughly grabbed his arm and yanked him up too. After a second Harry saw what had them on edge; the warden had appeared.
After a week in correctional facility, Harry wondered if there was something wrong with him. You weren't supposed to enjoy being in jail, after all.
He had Carrie, Pierce and Miranda, who took care of him and protected him from the older boys. Carrie had been right to warn him about the older delinquents. The leader, a huge boy named Mark, had immediately singled Harry out due to his small size and meeker nature and started going after him.
Harry had fully expected to suffer but Carrie and the others had protected him. Pierce had been right to be afraid of Carrie's punch; she hit Mark hard enough to send him sprawling and spitting out two teeth. Pierce and Miranda had dealt with Mark's three thugs and sent them packing.
Carrie had rubbed the bruise on her arm that Mark had given her and waved off Harry's frantic apologies. "Some times you have to defend yourself, kid." She had said. "It can't be helped. Never be afraid to defend yourself."
"Why'd you help me?" Harry asked back, staring up at the three older kids.
"Because we wanted to," Pierce had said, at the same time Miranda had said, "because we like you."
Harry couldn't help it; he started to cry. When a bewildered Carrie knelt down and hugged him and asked what was wrong, Harry had told her, "No one liked me before this. I'm just happy I have friends."
Later that night, Harry overheard Carrie and Miranda talking about making the Dursley's life hell the minute they got back out of Juvie.
After that, Harry started to thrive. The teachers at the facility enjoyed working with him because he was so focused whenever he was given assignments. The food they gave him helped as well; after a little he started to fill out from the healthy meals he was getting.
He talked to the inmates a lot. He told them about Harry Hunting and about all the chores he had to do. He admitted they were the first people he could remember saying they liked him, and knowing he could believe them.
Carrie taught him how to fight after she heard about Harry Hunting. It was gruelling, but Harry was a fast learner. Carrie told him about the weak spots on a human body and how to fight someone bigger and stronger than you. "Put all your weight into the blows. Don't attack from the front, they'll waste you. Go for the legs or the nose. Hit the nose hard enough and you could knock them out."
Harry had also spent time observing Miranda's kleptomania in action, and after a little he started emulating her, hiding the stuff he'd stolen from Mark and the Kitchens under his pillow and in his suitcase. He got better at it as the days went on, and the laps he was forced to run whenever a supervisor or the Warden caught him helped to strengthen his legs.
Pierce taught him to read and write in his spare time. He had snuck Harry a copy of Les Miserables, since the number of words would make it a good exercise. Harry would spend hours reading it and would talk to his friends about the characters. Harry was a fast learner; one of the teachers complained that he could easily skip a grade if he felt the inclination.
And it was here that Harry began to feel his 'freakishness' coming closer to the surface. Mark's desk caught fire when he insulted Carrie in class. The plumbing erupted when the older boys tried to give Pierce a swirly, knocking them across the room. The door to the roof slammed shut and locked Darla out when she tried to attack Miranda.
It went on and on. Mark started avoiding Harry like he had the plague; he didn't have to be a genius to figure out that Harry was somehow causing these things and was afraid that Harry would make him disappear. One day, when Mark screamed when seeing Harry turn the corner, the boy felt himself smile. Being bad felt nice.
"You know, most people aren't depressed when their stay in Juvie is over," Carrie remarked dryly when she saw Harry moping in his room.
"But I like you guys," Harry mumbled. "And this is where you are."
Carrie laughed and ruffled Harry's hair. He had only managed to make her laugh a few times, and each time was like music. "Hey, I only have another week here before I go out too. Pierce and Miranda leave in two days. You know where we live and we'll stay in contact with you."
Harry managed to smile. Carrie looked seriously at him, "Now, remember everything we've taught you. Don't let that fat whale hit you anymore."
"I won't," Harry promised seriously. He hugged Carrie around the middle, and a moment later Officer Parker entered the room and gestured for him to come.
Dudley watched his freak cousin stroll back up to the house, smiling. His wrist still stung from when the freak had knocked him off the roof. What did he have to be so cheerful about? He had just spent time in jail. That should have been horrible; taught him his place. He hoped the other inmates had beaten him up a lot.
Harry walked into the house, politely thanked Officer Parker and closed the door. He turned to Vernon and Petunia and smirked. "I'm back," he proclaimed airily. He dropped his bag and walked over to his cupboard. "That was amazing! I went to this big grey place, and there I met Carrie and Pierce and Miranda and they like me! They've taught me to do all kinds of things and they protected me from the older guys who would have hit me. Also, Miranda likes to call me 'Wizard' because somehow bad things happen to people who don't like me or them. I don't know if I'm magical or not but I think I understand those 'freaky' things that make you so mad, I think I'll do them less often now! And that'll be good, right?"
Vernon and Petunia both gaped at their nephew. He didn't sound cowed, he sounded positively jubilant. Obviously this Juvie had been lenient on its prisoners; he also looked reasonably well-fed and fit. There were no bruises visible on his arms or legs.
Petunia was terrified that this Miranda freak called Harry a wizard; if the boy found out what he really was who knew how he'd make use of that information.
"W-Well, Harry, we've decided that now that you've served your punishment...and you've turned six, it would be time to move you upstairs." She started.
Harry turned around, eyebrows raised. "U-Upstairs? You mean I get a room now?" He asked.
"Y-Yes, of course," Vernon said, as though the words pained him. "P-Pet, how about you show him his new room?"
Harry looked around the room. It was Dudley's second bedroom. It was small and a little cramped. It was dull, too, but Harry could spruce it up. He'd been saving money, after all.
At eight years old, Harry had been sent back to Juvie four times. And that was because he had been caught. Officer Parker had become resigned to seeing him and they could both recite the lecture about misbehaving and running afoul with the law by heart at this point. She had warned him that having a criminal records wasn't something to be proud of.
Harry had just nodded and smiled at her before returning to his 'home', if you could call it that. He was grateful that Parker's appearance forced Vernon to put his energy into making sure she didn't know he was abusive, it made things much easier. Six years of abuse had come to roost in the house; Harry turned to crime to get happiness and pleasure where it was denied everywhere else.
Carrie, Pierce and Miranda kept their promise to stay in touch. It was like having three older siblings in everything but blood, especially Carrie. They would often meet up in the park; Harry spent little of his free time inside the house.
"So, how's school Harry?" Pierce had asked, handing him a bottle of chocolate milk. Harry sat back on the bench. His hair and grown out since his first stay in Juvie; it was long and fell past his shoulder. Miranda would often tease him for being 'bishonen'.
"Good. Ruby threw a fit when she realized that her cellphone was missing, and my teachers have started noticing that it's Dudley who's misbehaving, well except Miss Cope." Harry said. "Too bad she spends too much time yelling at me than watching her desk."
Miranda rolled her eyes. "You're insatiable, Harry."
Harry grinned. "Also, I spiced the food I was supposed to serve the bridge club...a lot. Check this out." He reached behind his back and revealed Little Whining's newspaper, open to the parenting column. "An article in a newspaper denouncing me as 'a symbol of the lack of respect, honesty and good value in children these days'. Written by Petunia's gossip buddy, Olive."
"You couldn't buy that kind of publicity." Pierce said disbelievingly.
"Couldn't buy it?" Harry asked innocently. He pulled three cellphones out of his pockets, one gold, one red, and one green. "I guess I get to keep these then."
Carrie stared for a second and laughed, taking the gold cellphone from Harry. "Don't push your luck, trouble." She said fondly.
Dudley never seemed to learn, no matter how many times Harry knocked him out and Carrie tossed his friends around like ragdolls when she saw them chasing Harry. They supposed stupidity was a generic trait in the Dursley house. He would wail and scream and shriek like there was no tomorrow, but at last, aside from being confined to his room and denied dinner Vernon couldn't strike or burn Harry unless he was absolutely sure Officer Parker wouldn't be able to see it.
Cooking meals was one thing Harry had come to like doing, though he'd rather die than admit it. So he kept cooking for the Dursleys, though sometimes he would deliberately go overboard and leave then running for the sink.
Petunia eventually stopped forcing him to weed the garden after her plants started withering and dying. The rose bush had disappeared entirely. Petunia was distraught over this, while Harry had merely shrugged and said that he didn't understand plants, how about she do something about it?
Harry knew that his relatives would never buy him things, so he stole to buy what he wanted. Aside from the cellphones that he had enchanted for his friends, he bought himself books and whatever toy amused him he also bought clear contacts so he wouldn't have to worry about loosing his glasses when dealing with 'Harry Hunting' or the Warden.
He had become an excellent pickpocket and liar. He got it from Miranda. Harry could smile in someone's face while pulling something out of their bag. He used the money he got primarily to train at the gym near Carrie's house.
Harry was used to getting by alone and without support at this point.
When he turned ten, Harry had been planning for Aunt Marge's visit for a while now. This was probably going to get him sent back to Juvie...again...but hey, Carrie and Miranda were going to be there!
Harry had walked through the house, preparing the meals and being careful not to look either his aunt or uncle in the eye, because he was fairly sure he'd crack up if he did. He had greeted Marge politely when she'd entered the house, smirking a bit when she looked at his healthy, well-built form in shock. He'd set the table and cleared the living room. And then he set off his first trap.
He rushed up the stairs and onto the roof, listening to Ripper's barking growing louder and louder. Pierce was right, the paintball gun had been a brilliant idea.
Climbing onto the roof, Harry turned and saw Ripper rush onto the roof. Smirking wickedly, Harry turned, ran and jumped onto Olive's roof. Ripper rushed after him, jumped, fell short and promptly dropped two stories. The vicious dog lay whimpering on the ground. Didn't kill it, Harry thought with some disappointment. He had no ill will against dogs – quite the opposite, in fact – but this one was cruel and yet another symbol of how much the Dursley's hated and mistreated him.
Eventually, Marge stumbled out of the house, soaked in orange paint, screaming, "THIEF! RAT! SOMEONE GET THAT BOY! EVIL! RAT!"
Harry smiled innocently at an exasperated Officer Parker who appeared at the house twenty minutes later.
"Dudley, get the post."
"Make Harry get it."
"Boy, get the post."
"Make Dudley get it," An eleven-year-old Harry said absently, still cooking the bacon. Parker hadn't been kidding when she had said a year in Juvie would wear on anyone. Carrie and Miranda got released early for reasons Harry hadn't caught, leaving him sulking there for three months before his sentence ended. They had kept calling him, but it was lonely in there without them.
"BOY!" Vernon shouted.
"Fine, fine. But don't blame me if your bacon burns," Harry warned, irritated. He set down his cooking untensils and walked to the door, sighing and wishing there was someone else out there who could do what he could. Carrie figured there were other people like him out there, but they weren't in Surrey. No, there was nothing wrong with Surrey, it was perfectly ordinary, with perfectly uniformed houses and perfectly normal residence, and he hated all of it. It was so irritating. He couldn't wait until college rolled around, if only so he could take residence and leave this hateful house and everyone in it...
Harry picked up the mail and stared at it. It was a letter addressed to him. To him. He never got mail; Carrie, Pierce and Miranda always called him on their phones and no one else cared about him. Wouldn't be Parker, either, she didn't send letters.
To Harry James Potter
Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whining
There was a crest on it. It looked like a school emblem.
Harry was about to rip it open and read it when Vernon marched over, saw the letter, and went from red to green faster than a traffic light. He snatched the letter and shouted, "It's nothing! Nothing at all!"
Harry was very annoyed with his uncle Vernon right now. He couldn't imagine why a simple letter addressed to him would drive Vernon to drag them out to a shack in the middle of the ocean. It was absolutely ridiculous. Carrie had called him about it and decided there was something big Vernon didn't want him to know.
She was probably right.
Of course, he was sleeping on the floor because Dudley always got the bed. Sighing, he turned to the floor and began to draw a cake on it. If they'd at least stayed in a populated area he could have bought himself a few donuts to celebrate his birthday with, but no.
Thunder crashed outside and rain hammered down on the shack. Harry sighed heavily again and muttered, "Make a wish, Harry." He then blew over the drawing, fading it.
Suddenly, there was a massive crash, like someone trying to get in.
Harry sprang to his feet in an instant. Vernon came down the stairs with a shotgun, Petunia right behind him. Dudley looked around fearfully. "Where's the cannon?" He asked. Harry frowned. It didn't sound like a canon. It sounded like a person. There was a second crash, and he corrected himself, a very big person.
"I'm warning you! I'm armed!" Vernon shouted at the door. There was a momentary pause, and then a great crash and the door came right off its hinges. A huge man stood in the doorway – bigger than anyone Harry had ever seen. He had shaggy dark hair and was wearing a huge coat. He had an umbrella in one hand.
"Sorry 'bout that." He said. He turned around and set the door back in place.
Harry stared blankly at the huge figure as he walked into the house and said, "Couldn't make a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…" He walked over to where Dudley was and said, "Budge, you great lump." Dudley immediately ran to hide behind his mother, who in turn was hiding behind Vernon.
The giant turned to Harry, who was standing by the firepit, tensed and ready to run incase things went south. "An' here's Harry! Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yeh dad, buy yeh've got yer mum's eyes."
"What?" Harry blurted out, momentarily forgetting himself. He had never met anyone who knew his parents. "I mean, I'm sorry?"
"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" Uncle Vernon demanded, making a funny rasping noise. "You are breaking and entering!"
Hagrid walked up to Dursley and eyed the shotgun disdainfully, "Ah, dry up Dursley, yeh great prune." And with that, he effortlessly bent the barrel of the shotgun upwards, twisting it out of shape.
Harry watched the scene in front of him in disbelief, though some part of him was crowing at seeing Vernon so terrified.
"Uh, sir?" He tried again. "Who are you, and how do you know my parents?"
The giant look surprised. "'Course, f'rgot to introduce meself. Ruebeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I knew your parents when they were students there!" He handed Harry a small box. Harry-a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here-I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right." He opened the box to reveal a cake that said 'Happy Birthday Harry' written on it in green icing.
Harry was stunned. There was too much going on at once and he didn't know where to start. "Um – thank you. Thank you." He managed, sitting down and helping himself to the cake.
"What about that tea then, eh? I'd not say no ter summat strong if yeh've got it, mind."
"I'm sorry, we left in rather a hurry, so we don't have anything to drink," Harry said slowly.
"S'alright, I've got summat here." Hagrid said, turning towards the fireplace and then back once he got a roaring fire going. He then proceeded to pull a good dozen or so things out of his coat pockets.
Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."
Hagrid chuckled darkly. "Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' any more, Dursley, don' worry."
At that, Harry did smile. He was starting to like this strange giant person. It couldn't hurt him to ask a few questions.
"You said my parents went to this Hogwarts place," Harry said, "What exactly is that?"
Hagrid looked at Harry in absolute shock. "You don't know about Hogwarts? Why, didn't you wonder where yer parents learned it all?"
"Learned what?" Harry asked, though a sneaking suspicion had sunk in. "Does this have anything to do with the weird things that always happen to me?"
"Now wait jus' one second!" Hagrid thundered, leaping to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys cowered against the wall. "Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that you told this boy - this boy - nothin' abou' - about ANYTHING?"
Now, Harry felt that was going a little far. He didn't get the best grades, but he wasn't an idiot. "I know lots of things," he protested, "I'm good at math and English and Science."
But Hagrid waved a hand and said seriously, "About our world, I meant. Your world. My world. Your parents world."
"World?" Miranda's laugh and cry of 'go, wizard!' echoed in his mind. "You mean – am I – are you trying to say I'm a wizard?"
Hagrid looked like he was going to explode. "DURSLEY!" He boomed.
Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like 'Mimblewimble.' Hagrid stared wildly at Harry. "Of course you're a wizard, Harry! You're mother and father – they're famous in our world! You're famous."
"I – I am? For what?" Harry was bewildered. He had a fair bit of notoriety within his neighbourhood, but he could hardly imagine anything he did would have made him famous across a whole world.
"I'll tell yeh all about that, but I think you should read this first." Hagrid said. Petunia moaned, but Harry ignored her. He accepted the letter from Hagrid, which read,
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 a place in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
It went on for a while, but all Harry cared about was the first line. He turned his ire on his guardians. "Is this why you didn't want me to have this?" He demanded, waving the letter over his head. "You knew, didn't you! You knew what I was! All those things – those freakish things you kept punishing me for – that was magic, wasn't it? Why would you do this to me?"
"PUNISHING YOU?" Hagrid roared, making Vernon stagger backwards. "Yeh've been pushing the poor boy for magic? ! He can't control it! No one can at his age!"
"Stop!" Vernon managed to find his voice at last. "We promised when we took him in we'd put a stop to this."
"Why?" Harry challenged. He turned his eyes to his aunt. "Is this why you never talked about my mother? Because she could use magic and you couldn't? I'm not a freak, then! I'm a wizard, like my parents."
"Freak?" Hagrid repeated in shock. "Freak? Is that what you've been calling him?"
Petunia squeaked. Harry wasn't done yet, "Yeah. I didn't know my name was Harry until I was four, I was used to being called freak, boy and stuff like that."
That did it for Hagrid. He roared again and pointed his umbrella at Dudley. A second later, a pig's tail sprung out from his behind, and he started oinking like a pig.
Harry laughed, he couldn't help it. He was a wizard. He was going to a wizarding school. Carrie would love to hear this.
So what do you think? I wanted a story where Harry is a darker character but not going into 'evil death eater in love with voldemort' or 'doesn't care about innocent people suffering'. So I made him a chronic lawbreaker with a disrespect for authority, and I'll go from there. No, it is not Harry/OC, he and Carrie have a brother/sister relationship. Also the muggle OCs play a different role later.
Read and Review please!