Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I would be a female, for one.
A/N: This is a rewrite of my previous story. I wrote it when I was going through a bad time in my life, and so I lost inspiration. My interest has been rekindled, but it'd be best if I started fresh.
Summary: Harry Potter has powers. He's known since he "magically" grew his hair back. Curiosity leads to stumbling across the magical world, and Harry is not pleased. AU.
Prologue
"Sit still, boy!" Petunia shrieked, her dislike of the boy before her evident with every syllable.
"Sorry, Aunt Petunia." Harry replied hastily, quite frightened. His Aunt and Uncle didn't beat him too much, but when they did, it hurt. He didn't want to jeopardize his luck by telling her exactly how he felt about her.
Several minutes passed, until Petunia and scurried off, indicating the haircut was done. Harry could tell she wanted to be as far from him as physically possible.
Dejectedly, Harry went to the bathroom to see how his new haircut looked. Upon sight, he was horrified. He had no hair. No sign of his unruly black hair.
'I'll get beat up even more at school even more now. Thanks for nothing, you fuc-–'
Harry's train of thought was interrupted by a loud slam. Uncle Vernon was home. Following his initial shock, dread crept its way to his stomach. He always felt unbridled fear when Vernon arrived home, because his mood depended heavily on his day at work, and a bad day for Vernon meant a lot of bruises to Harry.
He exited the bathroom and walked quickly down the stairs. He couldn't see Vernon. Maybe he had left... His train of thought was once again interrupted, but by the sound of laughter. Swiftly turning around, he spotted Vernon. Vernon was on his knees, cheeks a deep red as he laughed himself silly at Harry's haircut. Harry wasn't sure whether he was relieved or scared. Probably some mixture of both.
"May I go to my cupboard, sir?"
"Go right ahead, boy. Hee hee..." Vernon said, still chortling at the very sight of Harry.
Harry sighed. At least he had caught him in a good mood.
Entering the cobweb ridden cupboard that had become his bedroom of sorts, he propped himself onto the floor. He could never defend himself at all from them, and there seemed to be no light at the end of the tunnel. He couldn't survive this forever.
Harry continued thinking of how he badly he would be ridiculed the next day until sleep gave way.
Unknown to any of the residents of Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry's body became cloaked in a harsh, golden light...
Unholy Flames
Harry woke up feeling quite rested. Unnaturally rested.
Dismissing it, Harry rushed to the shower and quickly bathed and clothed himself. He then sped to the kitchen to cook the Dursleys' breakfast. He didn't want to think of what would happen if he was too slow.
Half hour later, the Dursleys' arrived to the kitchen, all fully dressed for their day. They sat themselves and gorged themselves with the food. Harry had eaten his own measly breakfast of a piece of bread, and so he headed out to go off to school.
He couldn't stop thinking about how much more he would be teased. He arrived to his school in a daze, and noticed no one spared him a second glance, so he reached a hand out to his scalp. There was thick hair, but it had been slicked back to fall down the nape of his neck.
'How the bloody hell could I have missed that? That's impossible!'
Try as he might, he couldn't come up with a rational argument. He could only assume he had unknowingly entered himself in some cult, and received superpowers (yeah, right). He decided to confront the Dursleys about it. He doubted he would be punished for asking a harmless question.
After school, he found Petunia in the living room watching a soap while the smell of roast beef engulfed the house, Uncle Vernon's favorite. He decided to simply get the question of his chest.
"Aunt Petunia? I need to ask you a question." Harry inquired.
"Ask quickly, boy. I don't have all day." Petunia snapped, her direct attention still at the soap opera on TV.
He took a deep breath and asked "Am I magic?"
Guarded blue eyes locked with curious green eyes. He hadn't thought he would illicit any reaction.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Though she attempted to seem mildly interested, he had known her long enough to know she was surprised, and not pleasantly surprised.
"Well, as I'm sure you remember, you gave me a haircut yesterday," Harry said, gesturing towards his black hair, which had grown surprisingly more tame, but still had the air of unruliness it had in the past. "I can't seem to think of a way it grew back yesterday besides magic."
"Go to your cupboard," Petunia bellowed, her blue eyes shining in outrage. " I don't want to see you!"
Something clicked in Harry's head. Why would she have such a violent reaction to magic? Now that he thought of it, that might explain why she always called him a freak. He decided to bluff, and hoped he would not die today.
"You might prefer not to tell Vernon," Harry said, voice now cold. "I think we both know that if you hate magic, he must loath it. This conversation will stay between us, hmm? Or I think my magic will utterly destroy you."
Petunia was too shocked by the idea of Harry sticking up for himself to give any gesture that could be identified as affirmative or negative. She didn't say a word, even as Harry slammed the door to his cupboard shut. Harry took that as a yes.