Hogwarts: Sink or Swim Method. What if the whole timeline of the tale of the Boy-Who-Lived was moved a little bit into the future? Harry Potter was born in 1993, rather than 1980; as a result, Voldemort's reign lasted 13 years longer than it should have. Harry, instead, enters school in 2004. Hogwarts has changed, just a bit. Major AU, eventual Super!Harry.
Do or Die
"Up! Get up! Now!"
Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.
"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.
His aunt was back outside the door.
"Are you up yet?" she demanded.
"Nearly," said Harry.
"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."
Harry groaned.
"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.
"Nothing, nothing..."
Dudley's birthday - how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.
When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents.
It seemed Dudley had gotten the new Call of Duty game he had wanted; as if his cousin didn't have enough Xbox 360 games already. Another present looked suspiciously like a skateboard, which he likely wouldn't use. Dudley had better things to do, like eat and watch movies.
Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turned back to focus on the bacon.
"Pull up your pants!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting. "What's the point of wearing a belt if you aren't going to use it?"
Harry grudgingly did as asked, expertly flipping the bacon at the same time. His Uncle Vernon always seemed to have something to say about 'kids these days' and seemed determined to take it out on his nephew. Harry, however, was undeterred. In fact, he was just waiting for the chance to get his ears pierced; a boy in Harry's 5th grade class had them, and Harry was of the opinion that it looked bloody awesome. The only problem was that Harry tended to keep his hair rather short - no way to keep the earrings hidden.
Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel - Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.
Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.
"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."
"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy." At these words, his aunt shot a look at Harry that he took to mean, 'see, you've never gotten this, and you never will.' Harry ignored the look. Petunia obviously yet to see the obvious downside to the blatant favoritism in their household – Dudley was slowly but surely turning into a useless lump whose only use was to consume more food.
"Alright, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.
Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, dear? Two more presents. Is that all right?"
Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally, he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty…thirty…"
"Thirty-nine, darling," said Aunt Petunia.
Harry couldn't help it. He snorted.
"Do you have something to say, boy?" his uncle immediately snarled at him, looking up from his newspaper.
"Nothing at all…"
xxxxx
Harry left the premises shortly thereafter, having finished cleaning the kitchen and ignoring Dudley's loud exclamations of surprise and delight over his presents. Harry knew Dudley only pretended to be so happy with his presents just because he knew Harry had received nothing on his own birthday.
Walking three blocks west and one block north, he made his way to his personal safe haven. Marshall's house. Marshall had been his mentor and his friend for the past three years.
Walking across the unkempt lawn of yet another suburban home, Harry checked to make sure he still had his keys with him, and found them in the pocket of his jeans, which were once again hanging low. He paused for a moment at the door, hand poised to knock, then thought better of it and merely unlocked the door to let himself in.
He stepped inside, just to almost bump into a man who was clearly in a hurry to leave. The man looked like a surfer boy, except in his thirties – messy, sun bleached hair; button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and half the buttons undone; shorts; sandals. The whole deal.
Harry barely got a glimpse of the man before he stepped around Harry, saying, "Excuse me, I was just leaving." He shut the door sharply behind him, and the black haired boy was left alone. He blinked at the sudden darkness.
The black haired youth rolled his eyes in annoyance at the attitude of the man, but shook it off and headed into the kitchen.
A tall, muscled man sat at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and reading the newspaper. He had light brown skin and a rather plain face, except for the long curving scar on the left side of his face, stretching from his eyebrow to his ear.
He also noticed, with a smile, that the man's nose was still rather swollen from when Harry had punched him the day before.
"Marshall."
"Oh!" the man said, looking up for the first time. His gray eyes brightened upon seeing Harry. "Hullo, Harry. The Dursleys' let you out then?"
"Marshall," Harry repeated, looking his friend up and down. His green eyes flashed in amusement. "So what's with the guy that just left? Hmmm? Something you're not telling me?"