chuckee. presents: a story that popped into my head outta nowhere and now I have to write it 'cause i'll lose my mind if I don't

Harry Potter & The School of Hard Knocks

Chapter One: Check the What?

September 1991.

..

Harry Potter was a very lonely child.

His parents had passed away when he was a baby. His aunt and uncle weren't the most loving people in Britain; while they never physically hurt him they worked him to the bone. His early days usually consisted of hours upon hours of chores and garden work. And once that was done he had his older, much larger cousin, Dudley, and his friends to look forward to running from until it was dinnertime or Dudley got tired.

And if they weren't working him to death, then they didn't bother with him period.

There was many a night where Harry had to make his own dinner because his Aunt Petunia had forgotten to make enough for four.

Harry found that he loved going school and because of that he did pretty well, though that was mostly because it gave the boy a chance to be away from home. Any time away from that cupboard room was precious to him.

It wasn't until 4th grade in a language arts class that Harry realized he needed glasses; a quick trip to the optometrist diagnosed him with a bad case of nearsightedness and his Uncle Vernon reluctantly shelled out a couple of dollars for the cheapest pair of glasses they had.

Harry didn't think much of it until the next day when Dudley and his gang were particularly hurtful. The whole class found their teasing funny this time around and soon everyone was laughing at "Old Four Eyes". Harry's already well-known love for learning didn't help him much in the eyes of the other children.

To Harry's credit, not many nine-year-olds would've handled the situation as well as he did for three years.

One night, after an especially terrible dinner, Harry snuck by his uncle's sleeping form on the couch and squeezed himself and a tiny backpack- filled with what hand-me-downs his family let him have and a bag of crackers- through the unused dog door and took off.

Maybe his aunt and uncle would notice when he was gone altogether.

…

Harry was having a blast. Walking through his neighborhood was much different at night than blazing through it trying to escape from his cousin during the daytime straight from school. He smelled the scent of delicious bread being baked wafting from a house a few roofs down from his and the harsh orange streetlights that lit up the streets and sidewalks.

Even the sky was different. Glittering starts littered the inky black background while the crescent moon reflected off of the boy's round lenses.

"Wow… that's pretty..." Harry thought.

Soon enough, Harry had come up on a part of the neighborhood he'd never seen before. He knew he'd have to be on guard; there was no telling who was around. "The sight of a 10-year-old walking around unsupervised might raise a few eyebrows too," Harry added.

A variety of different shops laid between each other, all of them Harry wanted to visit. He didn't have any money, but he'd figured he'd just look around anyways.

That's when he heard it.

(Music: A Tribe Called Quest – Check the Rhime)

Music was coming from one of the weirder-looking stores all the way to the left on the other side of the sidewalks. Intrigued, the young man hastily crossed the street and entered, eager to see where the music was coming from.

High shelves and racks of flat, black discs and tiny rectangular cases were everywhere; people were standing around, shuffling through them until they landed on something they wanted. Some were tapping their feet with headphones on near a strange machine that looked straight out of one of Uncle Vernon's science fiction programs.

He followed his ears until his eyes stopped on a large pair of speakers and a banner tacked right above it that read "Naughty by Nature – The #1 Album Available Now!"

The drums were rough and unlike any other music he'd heard before- the only music his aunt and uncle allowed in the house was jazz or classical music, not that he complained- the strumming of the bass, blaring horns and the gentle ding of a piano appearing here and there mesmerized him.

But what caught Harry's attention the most were the lyrics: no one was singing! The men in the song seemed to be doing some sort of intense poetry competition; a flurry of words and rhymes came at him in what felt like a whole paragraph a second.

"Hey kid!" He heard a feminine voice call. His blood froze and Harry went rigid. "Please don't be talking about me, please don't be talking about me..."

He turned to the left and saw a tall, very pretty chocolate-skinned young woman with wild curly hair in a ponytail dressed in a shirt that read "Marley's Records & More" and a pair of dark blue jeans standing behind a busy counter. Her brown eyes gleamed behind her round, wooden glasses and she made a "come here" motion with her first finger.

"Well, running away was good while it lasted," Harry thought glumly before walking slowly towards the counter. "Y-yes ma'am?" He asked quietly.

The woman appraised the boy for a few seconds. He didn't look particularly homeless but she honestly couldn't tell. Between his messy black hair, raggedy clothes and ratty shoes, it was fair to see how she was on the fence.

"What's your name, kid?" She replied. Harry was surprised by her American accent but he figured now wasn't the time to ask about it.

"Harry Potter, miss," He answered, not looking her in the eye.

"Harry, eh?" She grinned oddly, like she knew something he didn't. "Where's your folks?"

His gaze snapped up and his eyes shifted from side to side nervously. The woman smirked. "Ah, must be a runaway then," She thought.

"U-um, they're uh… a-at the other store!" Harry finally stammered out. "Yes, the one r-right across from here."

The tall woman gave him the look all women gave men when they knew they weren't telling the truth but she let it slide. "Alright, then. You like what's playing, Harry?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically and smiled, "Yes, ma'am. I've never heard anything like it! What's it called?"

Laughing at the change in his expression, the woman picked up the rectangular case that sat next to the speakers currently blasting the strange music. "It's called hip-hop. There's a ton of artists but these guys just came out with an album I think is really good."

Harry now stood on his tiptoes, trying his best to see the case. "Who are they?" He inquired, green eyes shining with interest.

"A Tribe Called Quest," She replied. The boy nodded and took a closer look. There was a feminine figure kneeling in front of a black background. What caught Harry's eye was that the woman was painted red, black and green while the title of the album slithered over the curve of her back and hips, The Low End Theory.

Something tugged at Harry deep inside of himself as he held the case. The rhythm had struck a chord and the green-eyed boy knew this was something he had to get.

"Um, miss?" Harry almost whispered. The woman chuckled, "Call me Alicia, kid."

Harry shuffled uncomfortably but continued on, "Um, Miss Alicia… I-I don't exactly have any money but… I really would like to borrow this. O-only if it's okay with you!" He added quickly. "I live on 12 Privet Drive so y-you wouldn't have to worry about me not returning it and-"

A deep laugh from Alicia stopped the boy's ranting. "Alright, alright Harry. I'll let you borrow the tape-" A bright smile from the boy. "-on a few conditions." His smile fell. "Um, okay. Sure, I don't mind that."

The bespectacled woman stepped from behind the counter and stopped in front of Harry, kneeling to meet his eyes better. "First, go straight home. Don't walk around here at night without your parents anymore, okay? You're a cute kid, it's not safe out here to be by yourself."

A deep blush and a quiet nod.

"Good," She exhaled a sigh of relief. "Second-" Alicia pulled a couple of bills out of her back pocket, "Get yourself some shoes from the store next to us."

Harry stood wide-eyed and shook his head rapidly. "Oh no, Miss Alicia, I-I can't take this..."

She placed the money into his hand and folded it with a firm, almost motherly touch. "You need this more than I do. You gotta keep yourself protected and warm, even the parts you think wouldn't need it."

Reluctantly, the boy nodded and stuffed the bills into the pocket of his baggy pants.

"Third, and finally…" She paused for dramatic effect. "Come back here every Friday after school and talk to me about hip hop and I'll let you borrow a few more."

Harry was so amazed at her generosity that he didn't do anything, not a nod or a verbal response for a good few seconds. "B-but why? I mean..." He looked down sadly, "I'm not that special. I'm a freaky four-eyed geek."

Alicia put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. "Don't say that about yourself. You're worth far more than whatever people say about you. And as far as being a 'four-eyes'-" She wiggled her glasses up and down, "Do you think I look ugly?"

The poor boy's face turned cherry red and he averted her eyes again. "N-no, no ma'am."

She grinned, "That's what I thought. Take pride in your glasses, you hear?" He looked back at her, a look of determination etched onto his features. "Yes ma'am, I understand."

She got back up from her kneel and placed the cassette in his backpack. "Alright, then. Get yourself home safe, okay?" Harry nodded excitedly. As he was about to walk out, he heard Alicia say "Oh!" and rushed behind the counter to putt out a strange yellow device that was only a little bigger than the cassette he'd just received.

"Take this too. A dear friend of mine gave that too me a while ago, so take care of it!" It was heavy so he put it in his backpack too. Eager to get back home and listen to his new music, Harry took off out the door with a grateful goodbye.

Alicia stood outside, a wistful smile gracing her pretty features. An even taller, caramel-skinned man joined her outside, a pair of headphones wrapped around the back of his head bracing his loose curly hair to the sides. "What's up, darlin'?" He asked. "Everything okay?"

She looked up at the man and kissed him on the cheek, "Mm-hmm. I just put someone on to Tribe again." The man grinned and took her by the hand, kissing her slender knuckles. "C'mon hon, let's close up shop. I reckon we got some jazz records to break in back home." He finished with a sly wink.

Alicia blushed and smiled, "You're such a dork, Harrison..."

…

Harry quietly crept back into his house and quietly closed the door to his "room". Unpacking his new machine and cassette tapes, the boy got dressed for bed, shut off the light and let the music take him to another world deep in his mind.

He pressed the play button. Hiss from the tape filled the headphones as Harry waited silently for the music to start.

A bass riff and quiet bongos started up in the back. A shiver ran down Harry's back and a warmth grew inside of his chest.

"Back in the days when I was a teenager, before I had status and before I had a pager..."