Disclaimer: none of the characters recognised by you are mine, unless they are O.C's I made for previous fics.
Dedicated to Senyor Fier Mensheir
This was a challenge by the illustrious Senyor Fier Mensheir, and I swear he did it to get back at me for the Lemondrop thing: A Harry Potter One-Shot in which all of Harry's spells are in Pig Latin. There was no specification of Founder's Era, Marauder Era, pre-Hogwarts, Hogwarts, or Post-Hogwarts. It will be a pre-Hogwarts (as in Pre-Harry goes to Hogwarts) and I am going to have a bit of fun with this... and if Snape shows up, all the better to fry him with my dear.
The Four Year Lament
In Number Four Privet Drive of Little Whinging, Surrey there lived a perfectly normal family who lived their perfectly normal life. Neither too rich, or too poor the family who lived there had a comfortable existence. They were, indeed, completely normal, except for one thing. A young boy who lived there, but didn't appear in any photographs. He wore clothes at least three sizes too large and his skin was tan from the light of the sun. His hair seemed so black it was nearly blue and his eyes so green one might think them emeralds. His face was thin, and his cheekbones rather high upon his face, giving him an exotic air. This young boys name was Harry James Potter, and today he was seven years old. Harry knew himself to be odd, and years earlier he thought himself to be a freak even though he now knew that his Uncle was likelier to be called a freak by the neighbours. He believed his oddness was the reason his aunt and uncle didn't like him. It would make sense as they were always raving about it, his tall and corpulent uncle did at least. 'Funny Business', he called it, or if he was really angry 'Freakishness.' His short and thin aunt simply looked on in fear, though he didn't know what she feared to be quite honest. He had never hurt a fly, nor uttered a word against another person so it couldn't logically be him. Harry was a very logical child, to be honest, but he also knew that certain things would defy logic. These illogical happenings, people bowing to him and even odd occurrences on those times when his emotions ran high, he knew he had to accept as fact until he could find a way to categorize them. Never the less, he was seven that day. His birthdays weren't usually celebrated at Number Four, but they didn't usually assign him chores either. He honestly believed that was his Aunt's doing, as he doubted his Uncle remembered. For his birthday though, he'd walk down to the library and research what the occurrences were once more. Simply because he had to accept them, didn't mean he couldn't try to categorize them.
Waking up early, around six, and noticing his Aunt Petunia making the breakfast he smiled and sat at the already meticulously set table. He probably would be fed today, especially since his Uncle would be gone. "Good Morning Aunt Petunia," Harry said in a cheerful voice, knowing that the standard return would be kinder than his Uncles.
"Morning," she replied, already kinder than his Uncles, "You get two pieces of bacon, an egg and two pieces of toast. Be happy, Vernon wanted to give you a glass of water and cheese." Dishing out the food, she turned before saying, "It's your birthday. You can go out today, but be back before dark."
"Thank you Aunt Petunia," Harry replied, a wide smile on his face, "I'm going to go to the library."
"You spend more time there than anyone else in this family," she muttered, somewhat pleased with the results of raising her nephew. He was more logical than her sister after all. "Go, and don't get hurt."
"Thank you Aunt Petunia, I should be back in a few hours." With that he exited Number Four Privet Drive with a wide smile and hop in his step. The picture of a happy child.
It was once more Harry's birthday, his eighth this time. Once more he was left alone, but instead of the library he went to the park. It had been two weeks after his seventh birthday when Harry finally found what the strange occurrences were. Magic, magical power, or sorcery, the list went on and on. He was a magician, or perhaps a sorcerer. He found out the truth because of a book he read on different super abilities. He also knew he couldn't speak of it to anyone in Number Four. Uncle would go puce like always and yell, and his Aunt wouldn't like it either. That didn't mean he was going to ignore it, or not use it though. He had started trying to do magic a lot, to be honest. It was hard, and tiring. A lot of the time it didn't work right, or not at all. Those times it did work right though, those were the times he treasured. So far he had made things float, teleported, and changed the colours of things. Later he would try hair growing, and perhaps making his clothes fit better. The possibilities seemed endless so far. The only problem he had was that whenever he tried something, he had to speak Pig-Latin to do it. There seemed to be no explanation for the link between Pig-Latin and magical effect. Oat-Flay made things float, eleport-tay made him teleport, olour-cay, made things change colour. He just hoped to figure it out soon.
It was only weeks later, in school, that he had a huge break through. Elemental magic, like the magic he'd seen in various books, was available to him. As long as he had enough power to do it, he could call any element to him. He also found that he had limits, a finite energy source, and though it was growing daily it was still smaller than he would have liked. So he would work until it was bigger, far bigger. He would also have to be far more cautious, his Aunt and Uncle seemed suspicious of him. Training and using magic, Harry quickly deduced that if he used magic he'd have more magic to use the next day. It was two more weeks before he learned a new lesson, he can heal people, plants and animals. He also learned that healing often took more power than anything else. He would need to sleep if he ever tried healing many people in one day. Funny enough, when he first healed himself the prominent scar on his forehead hurt badly, then it stopped and now it was simply a thin line. He also learned that he could command himself to fly, but only for short distances and with an extremely long incantation of Y-Flay y-may ody-bay. He used it to get away from Dudley, a few people saw him but no one remembered it the next day.
He was nine when he discovered other magic users, and he was disappointed in what he saw. He found Diagon by accident, having been practising Teleportation and ending up in London.
Flash Back:
Harry sighed quietly as he looked at his surroundings, his eyes quickly locating a street sign proclaiming Charring Cross Road. Knowing that Charring Cross Road was in London, Harry smiled. 'I can teleport to London at will now.' Looking down the road and stretching his senses as far as they could he stiffened. 'Magic.' Walking towards the power that felt much like his own he noticed a small family of four walking towards a seemingly dilapidated pub called The Leaky Cauldron. He stopped walking and looked about before turning into an alley way. Looking once to make sure no one was around he focused on himself and said, "Ange-Chay, Olour-Cay, Air-Hay," in a fast sequence. In the place of the nine year old raven-haired boy was someone who looked fourteen with blue hair and grey eyes. Knowing it to be an illusion Harry quickly walked to the pub and walked inside. Finding the family walking out the back door he followed, just in time to see the wall open to a new street. He blinked twice before going through the now opened doorway and looked around. Walking up and down the street as he became more and more disappointed. It was dirty, archaic and relied on wands to do magic. Their clothing looked like dresses and they seemed almost obsessed with superiority. This magical society apparently wasn't for him. He would have to find another one, and hopefully one that didn't rely on a stick to do any magic or wore dresses.
:End Flashback:
From what he'd gathered in the half year from then, their dresses were robes and the wizards wore them constantly. They had a school of wizardry, and these 'wizards' don't start school until eleven, nor are they allowed to do magic outside of school. They thought using magic without a wand required great skill and power and they flew on brooms. They could teleport, but it made a loud sound every time they did it. They were weaker in every aspect, it seemed to Harry. But the worst thing, in his mind at least, was that they didn't even seem to realise they could be so much more. Truly the only thing he liked in that world were the Gringotts Goblins.
On his tenth birthday, Harry learned how to transform an object, instead of creating an illusion for it. He had gone back to the magical alley, called Diagon, few times for research purposes. He'd also never gone there without looking different. He'd found out that Harry Potter was a well known name to Wizards and Witches, but that for some reason they thought he had a bright pink scar instead of the thin silvery line it was. 'I wonder if I can transform myself,' he thought at the breakfast table.
His aunt got his attention with a snap before speaking, "Harry, Vernon's been angry lately," His aunt looked frightened, as she often did when discussing his Uncle. "I'm sure he won't do anything, but just to be safe you should go get something to eat at the convenience store." She handed him ten pounds and said in a shaky voice, "We may have to leave here soon, if he gets worse."
Harry nodded at his Aunt, and in a surprise to even himself, gave her a hug. "It'll get better Aunt Petunia," he told her confidently, "It can only get better from here, right?"
"I hope so, now scram. I need to clean a bit before your uncle gets home," she said, a thin smile on her lips.
Harry smiled back at his aunt and walked out the door, to the library for research.
Harry walked out the door, down the street, and teleported to London with a mumble of "eleport-tay."
Harry swiftly moved through the crowds, trying to lose the old man who was following him. The old man was bearded and dressed in a hideous lemon coloured robe, which caused Harry to wonder if he ever owned a mirror, looking quite like the caricature of a Wizard. Walking swiftly into the Goblin bank called Gringotts, and knowing he had a vault there, he walked up to the teller and said, "Hello, Griphook, can you spare a second... there's a really creepy guy following me. Wanna help me out?" He grinned at the Goblin even as the old man came up to him and tried to grab him. Harry quickly ducked his grasp before shooting a pleading look at the Goblin.
"Excuse me, Dumbledore. What do you think you're doing with that young man?" The Goblin asked, a smirk on his face even as he motioned for some guards.
"Nothing that concerns you, I must get this boy back to his relatives," the old man said in a holier than thou tone. This tone, surprisingly enough, was one of the Goblin nations least favourite tones.
"I think not, Wizard. Unhand the child who asked for our help, and we won't rend you to shreds," the Goblin's smirk widened even as the Wizard, Dumbledore, looked around him and saw the guards of the bank surrounding him.
"Now listen here Goblin. This is Harry Potter and I must return him to his relatives home," the old man, now known as Dumbledore, said.
"Look Dumbledore, he doesn't even know you. It shows that you've never introduced yourself or looked after him. It also shows that you aren't his true guardian, which means your access to his vaults will now stop," The Goblin sneered as he delivered his bureaucratic killing blow.
"He had access to my vaults?" Harry asked as he glared at Dumbledore, "Who is this guy?"
"He is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and is currently re-running for Supreme Mugwup of the I.C.W. He has also been claiming to be your guardian for the past nine years," The Goblin said, sneering at the disgraceful wizard in front of him.
"He's the reason my Aunt Petunia has been cowering in fear of my Uncle then?" Harry asked, 'Should I burn him now, or later?'
"Now Harry, my boy, I'm sure it hasn't been as bad as you..." Dumbledore started before he was cut of by a Goblin blade near his throat, the other wizards that were in the bank switching between helping him and hurting him at what they were hearing.
"Thank you, honoured Griphook," Harry said calmly, a polite bow to the Goblin before winking, "for being truthful and honourable in your actions. I can only wish Wizards and Witches would emulate you in this, as so far this society has been disappointing me for four years."
"You are welcome, Wizard Potter," The Goblin,Griphook, said, knowing exactly the kind of political ramifications that the move could have. "I hope to do business with you for many years, and plead with you that if you move there are branches of Gringotts in every country."
"I will remember that, Honoured Griphook," Harry said before asking, "Can I please teleport out of the bank?"
"Go ahead, Mr. Potter," Griphook said with a smirk.
Dumbledore looked between them with wide eyes as Harry teleported with a mumbled spell out of the bank, passing through the Gringotts anti-apparition wards as though there were none. "How did he do that?" He asked himself out loud.
"Obviously he teleported," the Goblin said, "He always teleports from Gringotts to do his shopping/research trips."
"He's been here before!" Dumbledore yelled in outrage.
"Every year on the same day, he comes here and up to my counter. He also comes here every once in a while besides, but always to my counter" The Goblin sneered at the Wizard, "and you'll be happy to know that you aren't allowed in Gringotts any more. Escort him out boys."
Harry's Eleventh birthday was two weeks away when Harry received his letter.
Mr. H Potter
Smallest Bedroom
Number 4, Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey
"Aunt Petunia, that letter is here," He called from the walk way, his Uncle Vernon having been arrested for Domestic Abuse a little over a month ago. Harry had been the one to get the police there, and the one to throw a fireball at Vernon.
"Are you going there, or do you want to go elsewhere?" she replied, not keen on Hogwarts as a school.
"Dumbledore is still headmaster of that school, so I don't think I want to go there. I guess I could go to Beauxbatons or something, but I really would rather go somewhere Dumbledore wouldn't find me," Harry replied to his aunt, "and that they aren't so weak."
"Write to them that you aren't going, and go research some different schools. You could go to Stonewall with Dudley," She said, a small smile on her face. Dudley Dursley had learned quickly that he could no longer throw tantrums to get things, especially since his aunt was working for all their food and clothes.
"Yes Aunt Petunia," he said with a smile, sitting down to write his note.
You Idiot Dumbledore,
I decline to enter Hogwarts, you haven't anything to teach me truly. I will enter a school in a Magical Society that isn't quite so antiquated.
Hope you choke,
Harry James Potter
"If I put Hogwarts on an envelope it'll work right?" He asked his Aunt, who he was sure would know, "otherwise I'll have to go to the Owl Office in Diagon."
"It should work, there are Wizards in the Post Office," Petunia said absently as Dudley sat down at the table for breakfast, "Now hurry up, I've got to go to work in an hour."
"Okay."
Two days later, Minerva McGonagall found herself in her best muggle dress walking up the way to Number Four Privet Drive at 8 o'clock am. Knocking on the door, she waited two minutes before it opened to reveal Petunia Evans, or rather Petunia Dursley.
"Oh, it's you," she said, frowning slightly, "Harry is currently looking at schools to go to. Would you like to come in?"
"Yes please, Ms. Evans," Minerva replied to the blonde haired, sea green eyed woman.
"Tea and Biscuits?" Petunia asked the older woman politely, if a little cold.
"If it isn't any trouble," McGonagall replied once more, politely.
"It isn't any trouble as I don't work today and I was going to make some tea anyway, my stomach isn't feeling well," Petunia explained to the Witch.
"I'm sorry to hear that. I would try to help, but I've never been great shakes at healing," McGonagall lamented, "I've tried learning, but I always get something wrong."
"If it gets too bad, I'll ask Harry if he can do something. Perhaps I could also go to the doctor," Petunia said, mumbling the last part.
Minerva looked at the woman, blinked twice, and confirmed what she heard, "Harry will heal you?"
"Yes, he is quite skilled in healing. In fact, he's skilled in every area of magic he knows. Its all rather practically based, and he uses it a lot to be honest. I've seen him conjure flames, levitate objects, transform things, create illusions, and more. He even saved me from my former husband," Petunia admitted, somewhat proud of her nephew, "I learned he can teleport and often goes to Gringotts as he likes the Goblins, and the Goblins like him too."
"Teleport? Like apparition?" McGonagall asked the woman, "that's illegal in our world for someone without a license."
"Its not exactly apparition, or at least not as I understand it. Harry probably knows better than I, and would probably ignore it if it was against the Wizarding Worlds laws anyway," Petunia admitted, "He really doesn't care for your society."
"I was wondering about why he declined Hogwarts, is that why?" McGonagall asked.
"That, and that you all use wands," Petunia said, "he doesn't think a society that relies on sticks of wood is worth much."
"But wands are essential for magic," McGonagall protested.
"Harry does all his magic without a wand, all he does is speak in Pig-Latin," Petunia said with a thinly veiled smirk, "and I'm really doubting that early magic users used wands."
"True, but only really powerful magic users can use wandless magic," McGonagall argued back.
"Harry's been doing it since he was about eight," Petunia punctured the argument viciously, "he said the biggest problem was finding a language that worked for him."
"Really?" McGonagall asked, the professor in her rearing its head, "Could he teach me? I've always wanted to learn wandless magic. I've always admired the Wizards in stories who didn't have to use a wand."
"You can ask him yourself," Petunia said with a true smile, proud of her nephew's accomplishments even if she wished he'd become a writer instead of a Wizard, "he should be in here any minute." As though called for, Harry walked into the kitchen with a grin.
"This is a Witch from the school then," Harry said with a frown, "What does she want?"
"Mr. Potter, I originally came to request information about why you wish not to go to Hogwarts. But teleportation, elemental conjuring, transfiguration, glamours and all of it wandless... I've never heard of this in magical Britain before. Could you perhaps show me what you can do, and if you don't mind could I learn it?" Mcgonagall asked, rather politely, of the young possible prodigy before her.
"A Witch asking for help," Harry said, seemingly surprised before he deliberated for a few seconds. "Sure, but we'll need to go somewhere we can't be seen. You Wizards and Witches like your secrecy, right."
"That would be preferable, and if you would like I could hopefully get you a job teaching wandless magic... I've always kind of admired the Wizards of old," McGonagall said with a blush.
"I'm not sure I would be okay teaching yet, but if I could help this magical society get to the point I would be proud to be a citizen it would be okay," Harry admitted, "I simply dislike their weakness and the archaic buildings, clothes, and dirt."
"The magical streets do seem less clean than Muggle streets," McGonagall reluctantly admitted, "Even Gringotts is cleaner than Diagon Alley."
"I noticed, do they even use cleaning can-trips on those streets?" Harry scoffed.
"They used to when I was a child," McGonagall admitted, "but it fell out of favour in the last two decades due to terrorists and no one started again. I think they are just too lazy to do it."
"Why can't anyone else do it?" Petunia asked, "If all it takes is a word then why wait for others to do it?"
"Because technically the street in front of the Alley belongs to the store-owners," Minerva explained, "We aren't allowed to clean it because traditionally they would host sales outside the shops."
"Is it illegal, fine-able, imprison-able?" Harry asked.
"Fine-able, and on a teachers salary I can't afford the fine," McGonagall said, "We may be paid 1200 galleons a year, but at least half goes to furthering our own education, and 600 galleons doesn't help a lot with that either."
"Why?" Harry asked, "Is it that much to go to furthering education?"
"Its that there are no colleges, so we have to buy more and more books to further ourselves," Minerva said. "There were many universities a few hundred years ago, but we got complacent and they went bankrupt."
"Then were do new spells come from?" Harry asked curiously.
"Unspeakables mostly, or freelance researchers. But they usually only release one spell a year," McGonagall said, "There is a lot of testing that goes into a new spell once you make one."
"That seems rather limited," Harry dead-panned, "anyway, you need to pick out a time everyday for me to teach you. Preferably a place as well that is secluded and we won't be ambushed by your boss."
"Ambushed?" McGonagall and Petunia asked.
"He tried to when I was at Gringotts last year, and I'm sure he'll try again as soon as he realises I'm not in Hogwarts," Harry pointed out, "If he tries this time, I'll curse him."
"Okay, let's try to avoid cursing others," Petunia soothed, "he won't try again, especially if you hide in Gringotts."
"Is this the reason he sends me to do all the shopping?" McGonagall asked, "He said something about not having the time, but as far as I know he's never had that problem before."
"He isn't allowed in Gringotts any more as the Goblins don't take kindly to lecherous old men," Harry answered with a satisfied smirk, "He tried to grab me in Gringotts, while I was talking to a Goblin. Have I mentioned that I usually talk to that Goblin and we tend to get along?"
"No," McGonagall answered, "but it certainly explains why he can't do his own shopping any more."
Four days passed before he got a letter via Owl from Minerva explaining that he was no longer down for Hogwarts, and that she could be by around 7 o'clock at night on Mondays. Seeing that the Owl had waited for a reply, he quickly wrote that it would be acceptable and sent it off. The next day he would go to Diagon Alley and talk to his Goblin friend.
Walking again into Gringotts, and escaping detection by Dumbledore through a high level illusion, Harry dispelled his illusion before walking up to Griphook. "Good morning Honoured Griphook."
"Good morning Mr. Potter, trouble following you again?" The Goblin asked with a toothy, and quiet honestly frightening smile.
"I avoided Dumbledore, though I am not sure if I did it well enough," Harry admitted, sparing a quick glance towards the large silver door to find a giant man watching, "I imagine that's one of his lackeys then?"
"Rubeus Hagrid, half-Giant, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts," Griphook replied, "I don't think he is going to grab you though. Not even sure if he knows you are here."
"Fair enough, but to be certain... Otect-Pray," Harry murmured, "I don't want any trouble to happen here. Blood is too hard to clean up."
"Thank you for your care," Griphook smirked, "You realise that if he has tracking charms on you, and you just shorted his signal, he might think you are dead."
"One can only hope," Harry told the Goblin Teller.
"So, withdrawal or deposit Mr. Potter."
"Withdrawal, I don't have any gold to deposit yet Griphook."
"Fair enough, but you know I have to ask."
"Touché," Harry admitted, a smile beamed at the Goblin, "Now what is this I hear about people thinking Goblins are all evil?"
"More Wizarding stupidity, I assure you," Griphook said, a hand waving as though to dismiss the rumour.
"One Witch isn't as stupid as the rest. McGonagall asked me for help," Harry said, "and suspected something odd of Dumbledore asking her to do his shopping."
"There's hope for one of them yet," Griphook dead-panned, "Let's get going, we can talk on the way." Griphook waved him to follow, even as he turned towards the row of carts. Harry smiled, following the small being with care. He glanced back to see the half-Giant, Rubeus, talking to another Goblin before he and Griphook entered a cart.
"So where are you going to shop today?" Griphook asked the emerald eyed boy.
"I'm thinking of hitting up Adjacent Alley, its right around the corner and I've never been there. I've already been through Diagon, Knockturn, and Magic Alley... and it's the only one whose name doesn't seem to be a bad pun," Harry confided in the Goblin, "Oh, and they might have those lizard legs you've been looking for."
"Thanks, but the ones you got me from Knockturn gave me a stomach ache. Apparently they were passed date by a few weeks."
"Knew they were too cheap."
"That'll teach you to trust a Vampire owned restaurant. They don't even eat anything," Griphook teased.
"Yeah, but they own a restaurant. I figured they'd know what was good and not," Harry mock-complained.
A half hour later Harry teleported out of Gringotts with a shrunken sack of galleons, appearing at the entrance to Adjacent Alley. He swiftly looked around for any sign of being followed before creating a new illusion and walking down the cleaner alleyway. Adjacent Alley was slightly narrower than Diagon, but cleaner, possibly due to necessity. It looked newer, more modern, but only just, and there seemed to be fewer people than in Diagon. They also tended to look more like muggles. Looking around the shops he noted the sign 'Staffs, Staves, and Stones' on one side, with a small book shop called 'The Magic Tome'. 'So this place sells alternative magic items,' Harry thought, continuing down the Alley and looking at the stores. Harry looked around before going into a shop called 'The Magic Mirror', which he assumed sold those annoying enchanted mirrors. Inside the shop, however, were small mirrors that could be hand held. "Hey," He called out, "What are these things?"
"Witches Glasses, often called two way mirrors," came the reply from somewhere among the rows. Harry heard a rustling of noise before seeing a man, about 15 years old, with black hair streaked with blue. He was wearing a flowing black robe over muggle jeans and a black t-shirt. "I'm Ced Jacobs, my father owns the store."
"Harry, and you don't look like a pure-blood so I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say you're second generation," Harry observed, "I really don't tend to like pure-bloods."
"Actually I'm third generation, my father is first though, it's my mum whose second. Technically I'm still a muggleborn though," Ced cheerfully claimed to the nearly eleven year old.
"Cool," Harry said, "I'm a Sorcerer."
"A Sorcerer?" Ced asked, "I'm not sure I've heard of those."
"I don't use a wand to do magic," Harry told the boy, "So I don't call myself a Wizard because of the fact that Wizards believe that they require wands."
"So... you're a wandless Wizard?" Ced asked, "And you claim that makes you a Sorcerer?"
"Well, it's mostly because I don't actually belong to this magical society. I didn't accept my place at Hogwarts, and as I was 'muggle' raised I am apart of the society whose school I accept," Harry explained, "it's an old law, but one that hasn't been off the books yet."
"Seriously, well my dad and Mum went to Hogwarts, they even met there, but I am home schooled because we didn't have enough money in what would have been my first year. Dad went and got the supplies I'd need and Mum and Grandma taught me all they knew. I'm going to be taking my NEWTS this year, as I took my OWLS at thirteen. I only got ten of them though, can you believe it," Ced rambled on, "My Mum was proud, but I was so disappointed in myself. I may have to go retake a few OWLS so I can get more NEWTS."
"You seem rather smart... for a Wizard," Harry admitted reluctantly, "I wouldn't be nearly so ashamed to talk to you as I would most Wizards or Witches."
"Thank you... I think," Ced worded carefully.
"I guess you are welcome then, but you should try wandless magic. I could probably teach you, I am teaching someone else at Seven o'clock tomorrow. If you're interested I'll pick you up at six-thirty," Harry told the boy.
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow at six-thirty, pm right?"
"Yeah." With that, Harry teleported away to his house.
The next day, at six-thirty pm, after a few seconds of deliberation Harry teleported directly outside the shop before going in. "Hello," Harry called, "Ced, it's time to go."
"Coming," he heard stomps down the steps before he saw Ced, whose hair was still black, but now stripped pink, "Oh, Harry... you look younger now..."
"Yeah, I often change how I look but I didn't have time today," Harry explained, "Now, we have to get going, McGonagall may be there early and I don't want to keep her waiting."
"McGonagall as in Minerva McGonagall, the Transfiguration Mistress who writes for Transfiguration Today and Transformations Weekly? That Minerva McGonagall," Ced asked the boy in front of him.
"Of course that Minerva McGonagall," Harry said in an exasperated tone, "What other Minerva McGonagall do you know? Now grab on to me and don't let go." He waited for the boys hand to grip his arm and muttered, "Eleport-Tay."
As they arrived in the living room, Dudley and Aunt Petunia were out 'bonding', the first thing Ced said was, "That was better than apparition."
"I find that gravity based transportation magic is always horrid," Harry agreed, "That is why I use space based transportation. I fold the space I'm in, and move it. Instead of a squeezing/stretching feeling, it is as though you are weightless."
"Can I learn that, I can apparate but I hate doing it..." Ced asked the younger boy with a pleading expression.
"Of course you can," Harry encouraged, "In fact, you can make your own form of transportation magic. Perhaps fire-based, or water. The possibilities of magic are endless really." The doorbell rang in the distance, and Harry looked up, "It's Minerva, knew she'd be early. One second Ced, I have to go get that." He walked through the hall to the front door and opened it, revealing Minerva McGonagall. McGonagall had on a deep green dress and matching hat that day. "Hello Ms. McGonagall, I have someone else interested in learning today. Come along, we are starting in the living room with a minor demonstration." He turned and walked, McGonagall following, to the living room where Ced was already sitting down.
"Hello, Madam McGonagall," Ced greeted.
"Hello... I'm sorry, I can't place your name. Do you go to Hogwarts?" McGonagall asked the boy.
"No, I'm home schooled. I'm doing my NEWTS this year. I only got ten OWLS though. I think after I finish my NEWTS I'll do more OWLS and then take those NEWTS as well. It can't hurt that I'm going to be learning wandless magic though," Ced rambled, as he had done the day before.
"Well, you certainly seem rather devoted to study. I'm sure your parents must be proud," Minerva praised, a small smile playing on her lips.
"They are, my Dad got nine OWLS and my Mum got twelve. I think my Dad only needed the OWLS he got to stand a chance at opening a store though. He's first generation, and my Mum is second generation. They didn't really have much chance at life until Adjacent Alley opened ten years ago. Now we have a much better life," Ced rambled more, an embarrassed blush flooding his face.
Harry smiled at the two before interrupting, "Let's get started then. I'm sure wandless magic will help you get high scores for your NEWTS, Ced. Minerva, I'm sure you could start teaching wandless transformation magic to your students. Its a win-win situation and I'm sure that learning wandless magic will help pull this world out of the medieval ages. Now what would you like to see first?"
"Well, could you tell us how you learned magic first?" Ced asked, pouting slightly.
"Yes, I think that would be helpful," Minerva agreed, "after all, I don't know the system you use."
"Okay then, well first I split magic into categories to learn. Elemental magic for using magic to deal with the elements, Healing magic heals things, Alteration magic affects the natural world, Illusion is like what you'd call glamours and then there are the subsets. Gravity magic, such as apparition, is under Alteration magic. So is my Space based transportation magic, called teleportation. With me so far?" Harry asked the two.
"I think so," McGonagall said, "what about transfiguration though?"
"Its Alteration, transforming the natural world. Alteration also covers some of what you would call charms, like levitation. Levitation is Gravity based, so it belongs in Alteration. Flight also heads under Alteration if you use Gravity based flying magic," Harry explained to the elder witch, "Any questions Ced?"
"Yeah, just one. How did you come up with your four categories?"
"It was through research, really. I stumbled a bit, but I eventually found the rules that worked for me," Harry told the older boy, "Now, does anyone want me to demonstrate the spells?"
"Can you start with elemental magic?" Ced asked, even as McGonagall nodded her assent.
"Sure," Harry said warmly to his eager... friend? 'I've never had one of those... I'll have to tread carefully.' Harry quickly pushed the thought from his mind and called forth his power and holding his hand out, palm towards the ceiling, before incanting, "Ire-Fay." Fire sprouted from his hand, a small red fireball. "With fire, I use a small bit of energy to protect myself from the heat as well. Without it I'd be getting burned badly."
"How to you do it? I mean... what do you do to do magic?" Ced clarified, with McGonagall nodding to the question.
"Well the first thing you must do is call on your magic and ask it to do something... anything really. Until you can do that, you can't really learn wandless magic," Harry explained, "This is why I am going to be giving the two of you pieces of paper and have you do something to them." Harry waved his hand, and with a, "Ange-chay Air-yay aper-pay," caused two papers to appear. "Now, first I need you to remember how it feels when you do magic. Try that until you remember exactly, then tell me."
It took five minutes for McGonagall to figure it out, but twenty for Ced. To be exceedingly honest, Ced probably had had the right answer ten minutes previously but hadn't actually been sure of himself. "Okay, now I want you to try to do it without a wand. Try to call it forth without the wand. If you manage it, please attempt to push it towards the paper."
It took all of twenty minutes before Ced had gotten the paper to do something... and it exploded. The once pristine white paper blew up into flames, possibly from frustration. McGonagall got her paper to do something directly afterwards, and that was dousing the fire that had jumped to it. "It isn't much yet," Harry said to the two, "but it's a great start. Elemental magic from Ced, and Alteration from McGonagall. We can now start working on what you can do to summon the magic up quickly, and direct it properly."
"How do we do that?" Ced asked, his breathing slightly ragged from his exertion.
"Well, you notice how I use Pig-Latin to cast my spells right?" Harry asked the two.
"Pig-Latin?" McGonagall asked while Ced nodded.
"It's a made up language," Harry explained, "children use it to speak when they don't want to be over heard by adults."
"Oh, then yes," McGonagall said, "Please continue."
"We need to find your trigger. It may be gestures, or a language or something entirely different," Harry explained, "We must see how your magic will respond the best."
"Oh... so hit the books?" Ced asked the younger boy.
"Or simply try many different things," Harry added.
"What shall we do now?" McGonagall asked Harry.
"You two need to practice getting your magic to respond to something other than a wand so I'll go get my language books from my bedroom, Eleport-tay," Harry said, coming back within seconds. "Okay, so I have Spanish, Latin, Itallian, Greek, Hebrew and Japanese here. If none of these makes you feel your magic, then we'll have to try gestures."
"Okay," the two chorused before each grabbing a different book and starting to read. It wasn't long before different languages were being called out, and then something happened. Another fire.
"Ced... did you have to say fire in every language you read...eeze-fray" Harry asked, his voice frighteningly calm even as he caused the fire to literally freeze.
"Sorry Harry, but after seeing you cause a fireball I kind of wanted to as well," Ced admitted, blushing slightly from embarrassment.
"What language was that?" McGonagall asked the boy.
"Greek," Ced said with a smile, "It makes sense, my Grandmother is Greek."
"Nice," Harry said.
"Can I try that book," McGonagall asked, "I've not tried it yet, and I don't think I can pronounce Japanese."
"Can you pronounce Pyrkaia?" Harry asked the Professor.
"Pyrkaia?" McGonagall said, causing a small fire to start on the couch. "Oh god it worked!"
"Eeze-Fray. Greek is probably a good language, you have different words for different effects, a good versatile language that requires little visualisation," Harry said, touting the virtues of the language after freezing the latest fire, "Pitfalls may be that people suddenly think you are worshipping the ancient Greek gods, or some such thing. Ix-fay." The light damage on the couch fixed itself within seconds, "Now you will need to practice, find your own limits. Remember that the more magic you use, the more magic you will have at your disposal later. I honestly didn't think you guys would find it so fast, but I guess we got lucky that I had that book."
"Thank you Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, not looking at Ced when he gasped, "I'll take it he didn't know your last name?"
"Not yet, I was going to tell him but I figured he'd go crazy," Harry admitted as Ced started hyperventilating. "Ced, please snap out of it."
It was his birthday, July 31st, and Harry was sitting in the living room with Dudley and his Aunt Petunia when it happened. Albus Dumbledore, dressed in baby vomit green robes, apparated directly into the living room.
"Harry, my boy, come on. We must get to Diagon Alley and get your school supplies," The old man said, once more attempting to grab the boy who lived. He had obviously forgotten his lesson at Gringotts.
Harry dodged his hand and cried,"Keep your hand to yourself or lose it, pervert."
"And get out of my house," Petunia screeched at the Wizard, "I swear to heaven if you don't leave I'll attac..." She fell back from the red-light of the Wizards wand.
"IRE-FAY!" A giant fireball rammed the older Wizard, "EEZE-FRAY!" A wave of cold swept the old man, who had successfully stopped the fireball from consuming him.
"Now Harry, stop this fit. We must really get going," Dumbledore tried to say, even as he dodged fire and ice spells. "Stupefy, petrificus totalis, impedimenta," his spells hit shields and summoned objects, "Harry. Stop this, this instant. I'll summon the aurors."
"Aurors can't do anything. You broke into a house that is registered as muggle," Harry yelled, "Now get out! E-Bay One-gay," he banished the headmaster of Hogwarts into the wall, and out the other side. "And stay out! Otect-Pray!" A blue shell of energy encompassed the house before sinking into the stones. "Ix-Fay!" The wall repaired itself and Harry sat down again, oblivious of the fact that his cousin was frightened. "Can't even have a relaxing birthday anymore," He grumbled. "Ake-way, Aunt Petunia, he's out of the house and can't get in."
"Did you get the number of that truck that ran me over?" She asked wearily, holding her head from the slight head-ache of being stunned at point blank range. She looked around before asking, "Where did crack-pot go?"
"I banished him, he is currently outside and attacking the minor defensive magic I put into the house to prevent his re-entry," Harry explained to his Aunt. "In about ten minutes I'll need to re-apply the spell at the rate he's taking it down."
"C-can't we get any help?" Dudley asked from the couch, "Isn't there someone who can stop him?"
"Couldn't you ask McGonagall?" Petunia asked her nephew.
"I'll send a message, but it'll be wind sent. Might take a few minutes to get to her," Harry said before grabbing some paper and a pen and writing a note, "Done. Now all I'll need is to go upstairs and open a window."
It took approximately twenty minutes for Minerva to apparate to Number Four, with ten aurors in tow. The lead auror was a tall, dark skinned bald man with broad shoulders. He wore purple robes of a sort that could easily be mistaken for a muggle trench coat.
"Mr. Shacklebolt, Albus Dumbledore has broken into this muggle residence attempting to kidnap Mr. Harry James Potter. Albus Dumbledore doesn't have guardianship of Mr. Potter, as the Goblins denied him such around a year ago. According to the law you must place him under arrest, I've already sent Amelia the notice," McGonagall instructed the man.
"Yes ma'am," Shacklebolt said, apparently reluctantly, "Albus Dumbledore you are under arrest for the attempted kidnap of Harry James Potter, heir of house Potter. Please come with me."
"No, it wasn't kidnap. I was picking him up to do his school shopping," Albus protested.
"Harry James Potter isn't attending Hogwarts, Albus. I told you that, and you still tried to force him to come," Minerva said sternly to the old man, "You broke into a muggle home, and it looks like you were beat by an eleven year old. Take him away aurors."
"Yes Headmistress," Kingsley said, once more with reluctance. He took out a badge and pressed it before it flashed, taking him and Dumbledore elsewhere.
"I don't think he'll bother you here again, Mr. Potter, but perhaps you should enrol in a school soon," McGonagall advised the young, emerald eyed man in front of her.
Epilogue:
Harry Potter never ended up attending a magical school, instead creating one of his own under a false name with Goblin help. His school, The Wandless school of Sorcery, stood for twenty years before Albus Dumbledore finally managed to destroy the building when no one was in it. Dumbledore ended up facing life in prison, as most Wizengamot member's children had gone to the Wandless School and Harry had taken up his seat in the ancient council. He later taught Wandless Magic at Hogwarts to every student in the first through third year. He never managed to cast anything without Pig-Latin, though he managed to learn to cast it silently.
Minerva McGonagall successfully ousted Dumbledore and removed the Philosopher's Stone from Hogwarts. She said it shouldn't have been there to begin with as it was too dangerous. Professor Quirinus Quirrell died early in the year, causing Minerva to ask Remus Lupin to fill the position despite his curse. Ironically it took a curse to beat a curse, the Werewolf was able to stay in at Hogwarts for two years until Sirius Black broke out of prison. Sirius was eventually cleared of all charges but breaking out of Azkaban thanks to Minerva McGonagall and Remus Lupin, though those were waved as he had spent eleven years wrongfully imprisoned.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was eventually arrested on charges of aiding a criminal, as he hadn't taken Dumbles to Amelia within twelve hours. He served a year in a ministry holding cell.
Petunia eventually remarried and had another child, Rose, when Dudley moved out. Rose turned out to be a witch, and as Dudley had already grown Petunia didn't favour her over him.
Dudley Dursley eventually became a heavy weight champion in boxing and won world chapmionships. He retired at 45 to take care of his family of five children, all wizards and witches. Not surprisingly, they had all attended The Wandless School with exceptions to the youngest, who Harry decided to train on his own.
AN: Read and Review. Tell me what you think.