Fallen From Grace
Just Like Riding A Bike
Summary: The world wanted a hero, what they got was a very sick little boy who needed their help. The night Harry Potter lost his parents was also the night Voldemort's curse inflicted the traumatic brain injury that gave the child epilepsy. Ignored by the muggles for so long, Harry spends the month between his birthday and Hogwarts at the hospital and there he meets another shy boy by the name of Neville Longbottom; forging a friendship that would see them through the coming years.
Rating: Teen for now, because come on, they are ELEVEN. There will be no sex, maybe a bad word or two, but nothing too bad. Later on when they are older I will consider adding in pairings and raising the rating but there will be plenty of warning before I do that. I should warn that I am incredibly open minded when it comes to sexualities (it would be a bit hypocritical of me if I wasn't) so if it does come down to them having crushes I won't be picky about genders. It won't be explicit, but don't expect pure male on female from me.
General Notes: I wanted to play around with keeping Harry in Gryffindor but giving him a different support base. That doesn't mean he will only be friends with lions. I am much too fond of certain snakes to be content with that. I am not a pure basher either I'd like to add, most of the mistakes I see particularly Hermione making are just things kids are likely to do when stressed out and scared. I don't like Ron's jealousy, but that is also normal, as I said though I just don't like it. The adults have less of an excuse for their mistakes because in my opinion they should know better. However, as a sociology and psychology student in college that whole hindsight thing is very true; we really only see a situation clearly once it is over and it is much easier to evaluate a scenario we are not in ourselves (hence the need for beta readers, if we were capable of catching all of our own mistakes we wouldn't need them).
About Epilepsy: This is IMPORTANT: I have epilepsy, among other health problems. So what I am writing is accurate to the best of my ability to describe it. For the science side of the internet I have complex and simple focal seizures in my right frontal lobe as well as reactionary drop seizures. I do not have grand mal seizures which are the ones most people think of automatically when they think of epilepsy. I'm deliberately NOT giving Harry grand mal seizures because I don't want that automatic thought to pop into peoples' heads. November is actually epilepsy awareness month so seems like a good time for this story.
Chapter One
Down With The Sickness
The night Dumbledore left a sleeping bundle on the front steps of Number 4 Privet Drive he unknowingly left the Wizarding World's best hope in the hands of people who would do nothing but ignore him for the next ten years. There would be no warm hugs, no one to kiss his bruises, or chase the nightmares away.
There could have been far worse things. There were no beatings. He was fed regularly, well maybe not as well as Dudley, but seeing as how the pig of a boy had turned out no one was really sure if that was a bad thing or not.
School was a little rough. He had to keep his head down, careful to not outperform his cousin and keep away from the gang formed to hunt him down and have some 'fun' bullying him.
A fairly sad and lonely childhood, but that was his life and he had grown used to it. That was until the annoyances plaguing him grew worse, and little by little the haze of innocence lifted from his thoughts as it hit him he wasn't like other children. There was something wrong with him, something very very wrong. Only he didn't know what.
He tried to talk to Aunt Petunia about it once but she just went pale and hastily reminded him of his first rule, no questions. He couldn't ask about the things that made him different.
What Petunia didn't know, and the Wizarding World would soon be horrified to discover is Harry wasn't going to question her on turning his teacher's wig blue, he wanted to know why he tripped and dropped things more than other kids, or why he would stare off into space and get in trouble for daydreaming without remembering any of it. Sometimes he would be so tired he could barely move afterwards and get in trouble for being lazy, but he just couldn't get his body to move.
This was scary and he couldn't get anyone to listen to him, not with the rumors the Dursleys spread around about him being an attention seeking delinquent so he wouldn't get their precious Dudley in trouble for his cruel games such as Harry Hunting. His problems were too subtle and quiet. They didn't force the adults around him to take him seriously, no matter how many times he cried himself to sleep in his cupboard over the unfairness.
It only got worse as he got older. There was the time he was being chased by Dudley's gang, spraining his ankle in his rush to escape, only to pass out behind the garbage cans and wake up on top of the school roof. According to one of the other boys –Dudley refusing to say anything about it- he'd just dropped where he stood and disappeared almost as soon as he'd hit the ground.
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were far more concerned with him being on the roof than they were with him passing out, another mistake. This one landing him more time alone in cupboard. He did kind of need it to recover. He felt awful. So sick and tired. Like someone had stolen all his strength. Sitting up took effort and stringing words together seemed like an awful lot of bother.
He was envious of Dudley and Piers that they got to go to the zoo and he didn't, but at the same time he could barely open bleary eyes and look at Mrs. Figg hobble in on her crutches and settle heavily into the armchair before he went back to sleep. That was the only solution the Dursleys had found. Harry had to stay on the couch for the day instead of his cupboard of course; no neighbors were ever to know of his cupboard, that was Harry's second rule.
Time passed achingly slowly for the scared and lonely boy, until even more strange events intruded on his life. Letters, addressed to him of all people, were trying desperately to get to him. It had forced Uncle Vernon into shuffling them into the car and continuing to drive, not listening even to Dudley's protests.
Harry had nine years of miserable birthdays with the Dursleys, not counting that first year with his parents. He was pretty sure this one was going to take the cake as he shivered under the threadbare blanket on the hard floor of the hut. He supposed he should consider himself lucky to have any blanket at all considering how greedy Dudley could be, but right now he was not in a forgiving or generous mood, he was cold and hungry and tired, all he wanted was a good dinner and his warm cupboard.
When the knocks came, followed soon with the door blasting inward with a shock of green light and a noise louder than any thunder, Harry felt his heart race and ears ring. A weird gritty, earthy taste in the back of his tongue, like unwashed mushrooms, overwhelmed his senses seconds before the world went black and he crumpled to the ground.