Harry Potter and The Imaginary Friend.

Don't own Harry Potter, that wonderful right belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Warning: M for language and potential implied situations

Edit 11/14/2014: Little things added and spelling errors fixed.

M.D. edit as of 01/17/2015

More edits as of 06/2018. Going back through this story to fix any discrepancies before I resume work on the second story. Thank you everyone for bearing with me.

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Prologue: The Beginning

At Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging there was a quaint little house with a rather unusual family residing within. There was a young boy by the name of Harry James Potter and he lived with his Aunt Petunia and his cousin Dudley. While his Aunt and his cousin used the rooms on the second floor as their own, his room was the little cupboard under the stairs. Now that might sound a bit questionable, until hearing that said cupboard had been magicked to be just as large as the smallest bedroom of the house. A room that was currently being used for storage. The young boy was a very special boy, living in a very special room as, you see, Harry James Potter was a Wizard.

Young Harry was also rather intelligent for his age and knew quite a few things that had happened in the ten (almost eleven) years that he's lived thus far.

He knew his parents had been killed by a very, very evil wizard. A Dark Wizard who had drawn people in with his charms concerning Pure-blood families strength versus non-magical humans and their magical children. The man was comparable to the non-magical tyrant that had been defeated in WWII; Adolf Hitler. This evil wizard had killed many non-magical's as well as dozens of witches and wizards who had tried to oppose his visions of conquest.

Oh yes, Harry knew about the horrible war that had claimed his parents' lives.

He knew as well that his Aunt Petunia and cousin were his only living blood relatives because of said war. Grandparents on both sides? Dead. Immediate cousins on his Father's side? Dead. Same with his mom's cousins and any Great-Aunts/Uncles. His dad hadn't had any siblings and his mom had only had Petunia and they had become estranged over the years. Now though? Now there were extremely powerful wards that were built upon the bonds of blood relation. Wards that were currently wrapped around his Aunt's house. These bonds meant that he could not be tracked by magical means and allowed him to hide in relative safely with his muggle, or non-magical, relatives.

Another thing he knew was that when he'd originally come to live with his Aunt's family, he'd been prone to horrible, outright terrifying dreams. Because of these dreams he would escape from his bed with magic, bypassing its' child-safety bars, in order to hide and eventually sleep inside the broom closest below the stairs. Really, it had been quite the good idea to his young mind. Who in the world would look for a little boy in a broom closet filled near to the brim with supplies?

He knew that his Aunt, while she did not quite love him as much as she loved her Dudley, still cared for him in her own way and did her best to instill him with good manners and a healthy respect for his elders. She had originally tried to force him to stay within said 'second bedroom' in order to instill within him the need to be normal, but he'd somehow magic himself into said cupboard every night to 'hide from the bad man'. Eventually, the supplies had been moved out and a mattress and blanket moved into the little cupboard. His Uncle had been quite happy to leave him there and had eventually dubbed the bedroom that Harry had been using as 'Dudley's second bedroom' and the cupboard as 'that freak boy's room'.

When Harry had first arrived his Uncle had been very much against him staying and was adamant that he would not shelter a 'Freak' in his house. You see, when Petunia had first explained the magical world to him so he would know about her sister, he had reacted... well to say he reacted badly would have been putting it mildly. Very mildly. While Petunia had eventually been able to convince him to let Harry stay, he was a blood relation after all, Vernon in turn managed to convince Petunia that they would be able to 'punish any magically ability out of him' if he did indeed show himself to have said 'Freakish Tendencies'.

Still, Harry knew that she had often hoped that he would prove to be non-magical as well. He'd often heard her muttering to herself over the years that she wished any signs of magical ability would 'just go away'. She often tried to teach him how to do 'normal' things in the hopes that he would thrive at being, well, normal. Because of those well meant attempts at trying to teach him, they had found out that he was good at, and even enjoyed, cooking of all things!

His Aunt was a hard taskmistress when he first started learning how to cook. The wooden spoon she used doubled as a paddle to his hands if he tried to add salt instead of sugar for example or when he tried to touch the burner when it was hot or cook without her being present in the room. To his Aunt, cooking was a delicate and dangerous art that required precise measurements and attention to detail. They both found some enjoyment in a 'Normal' activity that they could share and, though Dudley had no skill at the art of cooking, Harry's cousin enjoyed sampling the food that they cooked.

One might ask at this point what other part Aunt Petunia's husband, Vernon, played in all of this beyond angry mutters and threats?

Threats that were in no way idle ones.

Vernon had no love of 'Freakish' people. In fact, Aunt Petunia was barely able to prevent his Uncle from his more harsh reactions of wanting to 'beat the magic out of him' the first time they realized that it was his accidental magic that was helping him hide in the cupboards, not clever baby-tricks. She suggested 'chore' type punishments and food punishments such as doing yard work or going without dinner if he misbehaved and, for a time, that worked to distract her husband's ire.

It certainly didn't help matters that Vernon favored his own son. The older man tended to yell at Petunia if she showed Harry even the slightest bit of attention or worse still, her approval. She needed to instead 'focus on spoiling her own son instead of that Freak's spawn'. Petunia did try at first to ensure in the early days that the boys got along, but Vernon was quick to counter any punishment she might bring down on Dudley for his own misbehavior and instead blamed 'the freak' for absolutely anything that went wrong be it grades or Dudley's first signs of bullying.

She'd even wanted to do something as simply as keep his prescriptions for his glasses up to date and had instead been forced, originally, to give her nephew glasses from a bargain bin. No, Vernon would not 'waste a single cent' on the younger boy.

Things had continued along that vein until after Harry had turned eight years old. He'd had to use magic while at home to escape from Dudley and his cruel taunting. Harry had shouted for Dudley to go away and leave him alone and the bigger boy had ended up on the roof of number 4 Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon had been forced to get him down. Vernon himself had been panting and red-faced by the time he got Dudley down, Vernon was very much overweight and having to climb the ladder to get the heavier boy down had taken quite a bit out of the beast of a man.

Vernon had sent Dudley to a friends house and, sadly, his Aunt had been out of town with her friends for the day. He didn't remember quite what had happened after Vernon sent his cousin away but he knew that it had been bad. Bad enough that he had forgotten quite a few memories from before he turned eight.

How then, you ask, did he know all this? How did he know these things when he didn't actually remember any of it?

A simple answer really. Harry had a magical friend. An Imaginary Friend.

His Friend was named Beth. She looked how one might imagine J.R.R Tolkien's elves would look in real life. Tall, graceful, with hair the color of living fire and eyes as bright a green as Harry's own. The only oddity was that she had scales, lovely little scales as fine as sand! They were the same color as her eyes and trailed down along her spine and even wrapped around her wrists like bracelets that led up to a point along the top of her hands only to stop at a point at the base of her middle fingers. She was always wearing a soft, silvery gown and a belt that had a number of different types of small sheathed blades attached to it with smaller belt-loops and hooking rings.

Beth had once told him that Imaginary Friends lived on a separate plane of existence that could barely, just barely, interact with his own without aid. Imaginary Friends could show themselves to any young human, magical or not, but could only be with a non-magical child for as long as they were needed. They couldn't even affect anything 'real', anything physical, around their Normal Humans. This, she had said, was because of the lack of a strong Core in the Non-magical's. Specifically, a person's innate magical Core tied to one's soul. Everyone, everything, living had such a Core that kept them alive at the very least, she'd said. Like little candles. Not all living beings had a strong enough Core to be a 'wizard' or 'witch', whose Core's usually shone like large braziers or even bonfires. Eventually Non-magical's, or 'muggles', would no longer be able to support the Bond between them and their friends.

For Magical Humans however, the Imaginary would remain at that Witch or Wizard's side until their dying day. Unless a particularly extreme set of situations occurred. This was due to the fact that they had a strong enough magical core for the Bond to last.

Beth had taught him that there were many different shapes that an Imaginary might end up taking. It wasn't by choice, but rather something that their Bonded chose subconsciously. Something funny or strong. Something soothing and kindly or even something kingly and regal. Harry had laughed when she'd originally told him that a Imaginary Friend could be anything from a 'Talking Slug' to a mighty 'Jeweled Dragon'. She had warned him to never confuse a real Jeweled Dragon (native to her world) with the dragons of his world, 'for Humans are crunchy and taste good with ketchup'.

He never did feel brave enough ask her to clarify how she knew that last bit...

Now, while Beth normally did not leave Harry's side, for two weeks out of the year she absolutely had to return to her own world. This time was used both to report to her immediate superiors as well as enjoy what amounted to a 'vacation'. Being an Imaginary Friend, she explained, was sort of like a muggle job and also sort of like a required mission for those who wanted to have a higher position among her people. The 'Event' that had left him with the hole in his memories had sadly occurred during one such report/vacation. Beth had just returned to her home-world through the 'Barrier Between', one of the main gates that let Imaginaries phase in and out of Harry's world, when she had felt his peril through their Bond. She'd stumbled and then rushed to cross back through the Barrier.

Sadly, it took several hours to 'traverse' the worlds. A kind of time displacement that was unavoidable and moderately draining. By the time she arrived back in his world, the damage had already been done. Beth had found him bloody, beaten up and locked up within his cupboard. Vernon had apparently left the house after hurting Harry so badly in order to go out drinking with some of his friends. Dudley was still out as well and wasn't due back until the next day.

Thankfully, Aunt Petunia returned home within mere minutes of Beth's own arrival. Beth had managed to wake Harry up long enough to beg him to let her use as much of his magic as she could to get his Aunt's attention. Given his health at the time, it would have been at the risk of loosing all of his magic. His Core was far too weak at that age and his physical state far too poor for her to cast any major magics without causing him even more harm. Per her own peoples' rules, she needed his permission if the spell she cast would potentially drain his Core to nothing.

With the damage, even a minor spell would put his Core at risk. But it was ask, and hopefully cast a single spell that would both get his Aunt's attention whilst also not killing him him, or risk him bleeding out before anyone found him. A potential no-win scenario if there ever was one...

Harry hadn't wanted to agree at first when she managed to wake him up. He wanted to just go back to sleep, wanted to keep forgetting, to just disappear, but he'd caved. If it meant the loss of his magic and in turn what had happened would never, ever happen again, he would honestly have been fine with that trade off.

He really didn't recall much of what happened afterwards. He'd only ever recall feeling oh so very tired after Beth had used his magic to get his Aunt's attention. The only clear image he could remember, was his Aunt opening the cupboard to find him hurt and, screaming in outright panic, she had rushed him to the muggle hospital for treatment.

What had happened in the weeks that had followed was... also pretty much a blur to him. Beth was there to keep him steady and help him talk about things, but he'd needed a lot of prompting on her part to even acknowlegde people. There was an even longer period of time spent talking to the police, the drawn out divorce case in the midst of a major trial. His Uncle was sent to prison for a very, very long time at the end of it all at least, a silver lining to the entire mess. It was only after he was gone, firmly behind bars, that Harry had started to show his previous, lively and energetic additude.

Aunt Petunia had later managed to get in touch with a nice old man with a fondness for Lemon Drop candies to change Harry's cupboard to the small room that it currently was. He'd originally refused to leave it except for eating and using the bathroom for almost a week after all the court cases were done and she wanted him to have some more space. The old man, Dumbledore, had even modified something called 'wards' in order to prevent Vernon from ever getting onto the property again once his term in jail was over before helping Harry recover from what the old man had called 'Core Sickness'.

He didn't blame his Aunt or Beth for what happened. How could he? Still, both were obviously upset with themselves for not being there to prevent the 'Event'. He had to keep telling them that he didn't blame them, that they weren't the ones that hurt him. He loved them.

Things definitely got better once Vernon was gone. Dudley didn't always get his way any more, not as he had previously had due his fathers insistence and favoritism. His outright blaming of Harry for things the younger boy had no control over. Dudly was instead punished when he did something bad as opposed to receiving praise said deeds. Furthermore, he'd been put on a diet that Petunia had long since desired to put him on. Harry was no longer sent to bed without food anymore (Vernon had often insured that happened though Petunia always made sure he got a good helping of breakfast and lunch at the very least) and, of course, if Harry misbehaved then he still had to do chores (though never to such a degree as before). Harry felt that his life was looking up!

And that was despite the fact that his Aunt still seemed to hope he 'wouldn't get that blasted letter'...

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Reviews would be lovely :)

Going through and editing this story. I realized there was a few spelling errors and a missing scene and a few other things so I will be going through to fix things. Thank you again everyone.