SUMMARY: Harry's abusive family bring out something in him that no one expected. When he runs away, and meets two strangers, they tell him of his past and what is to come of his future. Training him for the inevitable battle at the end was never going to be easy, but with a bit of love and trust, will these two strangers become the closest thing Harry has ever had to family? And whats this about a power the dark lord knows not?
Powerful Harry. Weasley, Dumbledore bashing, mild abuse, occasional swearing, no slash atm.
GUYS, GUYS, THIS IS MY FIRST FANFIC AND I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR THE CRAPPY LEVEL IT WILL BE AT :D also, i know the first chapter is short, but i will try and make the other ones longer than this
DISCLAIMER: if I fukin owned harry potter, would I friggen be writing fan fiction of it?
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*WHACK*
"HOW DARE YOU TRY AND TAKE OUR FOOD, FROM OUR PANTRY?" Aunt Petunia screeched at Harry. The thin 9 year old had been caught taking a biscuit from the cupboard when his aunt walked in and bust into rage. "YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO TRY AND TAKE MORE WHEN WE DON'T EVEN WANT YOU HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE! WE GIVE YOU FOOD, A BED, AND CLOTHES OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF OUR HEARTS, AND YOU STILL TRY AND TAKE MORE! YOU PROBABLY GET IT FROM YOUR FILTHY FATHER, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING FREAK!" Harry curled up on the floor, holding his swelling cheek, and sobbed. He didn't know Aunt Petunia had been home, and had hoped he could have gone a day without getting yelled at or beaten.
"My mummy was a good person! Just like Harry is! Harry won't ta-"
*WHACK*
"DON'T YOU DARE TALK BACK TO ME YOU FREAK" Spit was flying out of Petunia's mouth at this stage, and it was really an overreaction- the biscuit that Harry had stolen was a really shit brand that no one in the Dursley household ate anyways. The overreaction wasn't unexpected though; Harry had noticed that his beatings had increased in frequency, starting from a couple weeks ago when Dudley and he got their school grades back. Harry had gotten quite well, and earned a B, whereas Dudley had failed the class, and would have to repeat. Fortunately for him, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had 'intervened' (yelled at the teacher until she changed Dudley's grade), and Dudley was now able to move up with the rest of his friends. But since they got the marks back, everyone had been hitting and yelling at harry more. Harry now understood that he was not to outdo Dudley in anything, and he was not to draw attention to himself at school. He'd only recently just gotten out of a three day cupboard confinement, for mowing the lawn suspiciously quickly, and the only meal he'd had since getting out was a bit of lettuce and two bread end pieces.
"VERNON! COME HERE PLEASE, AND BRING THE BELT!" Harry bawled at this; he could see that he wasn't getting out of this easily. His messy hair, plastered to his face from his tears, Harry remembered how bad the beatings could get. The strange thing about his 'punishments' was that, no matter how bloody or bad they got, he was always better the next day. He almost wished he wasn't, so someone would notice and take him away.
"Aunt Petunia, please, I promise I won't st-"
*WHACK*
"SHUTUP, FREAK"
Uncle Vernon plodded into the kitchen, with Dudley at his side and a thick leather belt in his hand. His moustache was bristling with rage, and his face was slowly turning a startling magenta colour. Dudley was grinning from behind his uncle, smirking at Harry lying on the floor. Dudley was a right prat, even at this age. He was already fat as a 16 year old boy, despite being only being 9 and a half, and Harry was astounded he had it in him to chase Harry.
"Little freak thinks he can take from us again? I guess I'll have to teach you another lesson..." Vernon said, walking towards Harry, and Petunia stepped back, making room for the following actions. Harry was ripped off the floor, and his shirt was wrestled off his back. "Bend over the bench, boy!" Vernon commanded.
Harry leaned over, his body wracked with sobs. He was so frail and skinny that you could see all the bones in his back. There were also numerous scars from previous beatings, and some were still healing. Vernon believed in violence to 'stamp it out of him', and Petunia just downright hated the boy. Dudley followed his father's actions, and enjoyed chasing harry with his friends and beating him up.
Vernon rolled up his sleeves and was just about to bring down the belt on Harry's back, when Harry turned around and held his hands up in defence.
"PLEASE UNCLE VERNON, I PROMISE I WONT DO IT AGAIN" he screamed. The belt, already on its way down, slapped harry across the face, and the boy screamed in pain. He collapsed on the floor, clutching at his face again. The boy's sobs got louder, angering Vernon further.
"IDIOT BOY, WHY DID YOU TURN AROUND? NOW PEOPLE WILL SEE THE MARKS! STUPID, JUST LIKE YOUR IDIOT PARENTS! WHY DON'T YOU GO CHUCK YOURSELF IN A CARCRASH, WHILE YOU'RE AT IT?" Vernon made to bring the belt down again on the sobbing boy, but Harry brought his hand up to deflect the blow.
Harry's face was burning from the impact of the belt, and his mind was screaming at him. 'Why do they hit me? I haven't eaten in two days, and Dudley doesn't even like that kind of biscuit! Why? WHY? THIS IS NOT MY FAULT!' With that thought, Harry noticed the belt coming down again, and thrust his hand in the air. He wished, oh he wished that they would stop. He shut his eyes, waiting for the pain, but instead, felt nothing. He slowly looked up at his Uncle, only to see him, Petunia and Dudley frozen where they stood. They weren't even breathing, or blinking. Even Vernon's belt was frozen mid-whip.
Harry gasped, shock worming its way through his tiny body. 'What happened to Uncle Vernon? And Petunia? Dudley too? Did I do that? I can't have, that's impossible!' Harry slowly stood up, and walked up to Vernon. He reached a hand out, hesitantly, and softly jabbed Vernon in the eye. Not even a flinch. Harry gasped again, and started hyperventilating. 'DID I KILL MY FAMILY? What if the Police find out, and put me in the orphanage, like Dudley said they would? What if I get arrested and someone beats me up ever more? I HAVE TO RUN AWAY!'
His breathing still forced and far too quick, Harry ran out of the kitchen, and burst into his cupboard. Grabbing his school bag, Harry shoved some hand-me-down Dudley clothes and a couple pounds worth of pence in. By now, his breathing had calmed down a bit, and his crying had stopped. He was more in a state of shock. Harry ran upstairs into his aunt and uncle's room, and grabbed 30 pounds out of Petunia's wallet. On the way out, Harry stopped at Dudley's room, and decided to steal all of Dudley's television remotes, as revenge for all the beating ups. Harry had a strong mischievous side, and even in his distressed state, realised that he could take full advantage of the situation. He darted into Aunt and Uncles room again, and grabbed 30 more pounds and a permanent marker.
Harry ran into the kitchen, with his backpack containing all the clothes and money (and TV remotes) on his back. He stocked some food in his bag, and walked over to stand in front of his family. Vernon, Harry noticed, had moved slightly from his original position, and was still slowly moving with the same face of pure hatred as he always had when looking at him. Harry noticed this with his other relatives too. 'Maybe I didn't kill them... Must be weird stuff, like that time I turned up on the school roof. Hopefully no one will notice me running away until they unfreeze...' Deciding to be quick about it, Harry starting drawing on the faces of his relatives with the permanent marker. By the time he was done, all three of them had heavy eyebrows drawn on, and moustaches and beards too. Harry giggled under his breath about it as he closed the front door on his way out.
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Harry ran to the playground straight after leaving the property. He didn't want to be seen by the neighbours, in case they called the cops, so he brought his hoodie up over his hair, and pushed his fringe in front of his scar. It was the only cool thing about his appearance, in his opinion. Heaps of kids at school had scars, but none of them had a lightning scar. This didn't mean Harry had any friends, it just meant he had one thing he liked about himself.
It was night time, and November at the time, so outside was really cold. His breath came out in puffs, as he gasped for air from running. Sitting down on the swings, Harry took the time to think about what was going to happen now.
'Well. I've run away.
Fuck. (He knew a lot of swear words from listening to Dudley try do his homework)
What the hell am I supposed to do now? I'm 9 years old, and it's like 10 o'clock! And I'm seven! Ugh, maybe I should just go back... NO! They'll just yell and scream at me again...
Bloody hell it's cold...' Harry was shivering pretty bad at this point, and passed a hand up to brush his hair away, not noticing that everything suddenly felt a lot warmer.
He sat on the swings for a couple minutes, and finally came up with a plan. It was a pretty shit plan, but he was only 9, so it was the best he could come up with.
'I'll catch a bus to London, and beg for a place to stay. Someone's got to let me in if I give them puppy eyes... What are puppy eyes, by the way?' With that thought in his head, Harry got up to begin his journey. He walked over to the street curb and tried to get a vague idea of which way to go. Harry lifted his hand in front of his face again, to brush his hair away, when all of a sudden a bus appeared on the street? Do buses normally do that?
The door flung open and an old man hobbled out and croaked at him with a creaky voice,
"Welcome aboard thee Knight Bus, queeck transport fer stranded witches an' wizards. How may I help yeh, child?" The man leered at Harry, noticing his slight appearance. "Aren't yew a leettle beet youngh teh bee travellen by yehself?" the man asked, slipping into a wheezier voice. Harry didn't respond, as he was busy digesting the sudden appearance of the bus, and the strange look of the bus. It was a very thin three decker bus, covered in rusted bright purple paint. "THE KNIGHT BUS" was written on the side in bright red paint, and Harry could see people sitting inside the bus.
"Child?" the old man's voice persisted, breaking Harry's concentration. Jolting, harry met the gaze of the man. "How old aree yeh? Yeh look far too young teh be around a' thiss hour? Dew yeh want me the send ah patronus teh yeh Mummeh fer yeh?"
Slowly speaking, Harry replied, "I'm nin.. I'm ten sir." Harry said, realising the man was suspicious of his age due to his thin build. "My mother and father are already waiting for me at our hotel in London. How.. how quick will it take for the bus to get there, and how much will it cost me?" Harry asked, and started pulling a couple of pounds out of his backpack. The man looked up and searched the surrounding area before answering.
"It will cost yeh 11 seeckles from heere to Londen."
'I must have misheard that. What the heck is a seeckle?' Blinking, Harry asked the man again.
"Sorry, what was that? 11 seeckles? What's that?"
"A seeckle meh child, a seeckle. Yeh know, teh things tha' make up Galleon,' the old man said impatiently. "Come on child, we need teh get goin' or eelse thee Muggles will notice thee boos."
Harry, finally figuring out approximately what the man was trying to tell him, held up a handful of pence and pound notes.
"Will this do? I'm afraid I haven't any seeckles or galleens on me at the moment," he said as politely as one could, in this situation. The man picked up a pound note and sighed heavily.
"Eet will dew fer now. Give me two pounds and ey'll give yeh hot chocolate and ah toothbrush of yeh choice tew."
Harry handed over two of the notes, and hopped on board the strange bus. The old man followed him on, shoving the pounds in his pocket. He tapped on the pane of glass behind the driver's seat and told the driver to head to London.
Harry walked to the back of the bus, observing the other people on the bus. Due to the late hour, the majority were sleeping or on their way. Harry noticed the strange fashion sense that they all seemed to have. Who actually wore cloaks and pointy hats like that? Maybe it was a roaming freak show or something. 'You'll fit right in then, won't you' Harry thought dryly.
A couple minutes after Harry had sat down, the old man shuffled over to him and handed him a watery cup of hot chocolate, and showed him a selection of crappy toothbrushes that he could pick from. Harry chose the green one, as green was his favourite colour. The man shuffled back to his seat at the front of the bus and left Harry alone with his thoughts and hot chocolate. Sipping it, he ignored the off putting watery taste, and pondered what London would be like. He had no plans of going back to the Dursleys anytime soon.
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Just after Harry left, at 4 Private Drive
A loud popping noise was heard on the front lawn of the Dursleys house, followed by a bang of a front door being flung open, and loud cursing. A strange woman wearing strange clothes, and her strange companion had just apparated onto the front lawn, and barged into the house, only to find the slowly recovering Dursleys and no Harry.
"DAMMIT! We must have missed him! If only I wasn't in the shower!" cried the woman in frustration.
"Yeah, annoying that. Although, I certainly didn't mind you being in the shower…" murmured the companion, suggestively bumping the woman's hips. The woman glared at her companion with a stony face.
"I hope you realise what's happening here, Tee. We've just missed Harry Potter, now he's run away. He could be anywhere right now, and you're busy thinking about my showers," the woman said, walking around the Dursley's kitchen and examining the Muggle devices.
The companion, Tee, was examining the strange markings drawn on the faces of the frozen family.
"Hey, at least we know one thing about him," he said, ruffling Vernon's hair.
"What's that?" the woman asked, opening and closing the microwave.
"He's got a sense of humour- I mean bloody hell, what a way to leave a lasting impression," said Tee, gesturing to the moustache drawn on Petunia.
"Tee, please be serious for a moment here! We need to find Harry before the Ministry or the Order, or God forbid, Albus, does. Where would you go if you were a young boy who's just run away?" She cried in exasperation.
Tee snickered, replying "The local girls change room, what about you?"
Slapping the upside of Tee's head, the woman stormed outside, and a loud popping noise could be heard again.
"Ah good ol' Ms, always appreciates a chuckle," Tee sighed, before wandering out and popping away too.