Harry Potter and the Power of Intimidation (rewrite)
Chapter One: Of Introductions and Weeds
"Wretched creatures those mortals... Always messing around in things far above their station in life." muttered the elder vampire, reclined casually in his favourite wingbacked armchair, the wrinkles on his world weary face given unfathomable depth by the flames dancing in the hearth of the victorian marble fireplace.
A small gathering of 'Younglings' had begun to form around the seated elder, their eyes filled with the mischief of new immortality, still revelling in the thoughts of truly having all the time in the world.
"Elder, we are here for our lessons." said one of the more pompous looking brats, clearly the stuck up aristocratic type.
"Lessons? I do not give lessons child. I am but a story teller, a bard of the ages. If you choose to hear these tales as lessons, then you might just survive to the end of the story... However, I doubt many of you posses the necessary patience, or skill, to draw out the lessons hidden in the tales of Harry Potter."
A hail of daggers, glared from forty six beady little black eyes was all the response he recieved.
"Very well then, I shall begin, but know your impertinence will not go unpunished... Your mentors shall hear of this."
Silence reigned over the small gathering of immortals, broken only by the even ticking of the carriage clock sitting upon the mantlepiece.
"Good, it would appear I have your attention. Now the tale of Harry Potter is not a pleasant little journey through the old Wizarding school of Hogwarts, oh no! It is a grotesque tale of torture, deception and betrayal of the highest order. Are you sure you wish me to continue?"
The sea of eager faces nodded a wave of approval, 'If only they were always this innocent,' thought the elder vampire, 'Soon they shall know of the harsh reality they face beyond these walls.'
"Very well then, As I was saying, before I was so rudely interupted..." the culprit of said crime swallowing loudly as his eyes darted back and forth, seeking some reprieve from the hateful glares of those around him. " The mortals were always messing around in things they had no right to be messing around in... I doubt many of you will remember the dawning of christianity, or even many of its teachings and beliefs. Well let me assure you I shant be wasting any time on that little sore spot in history. However, no mortals were ever considered as stupid as those who mistreated a young boy by the name of Harry Potter. It is his tale, you all will learn from. I hope...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the wind violently tore at the neatly manicured lawns and rose bushes of Privet Drive, a perfectly normal street in the perfectly normal suburb of Little Whining, Surrey, no one would suspect the universe altering phenomenon that was about to occur.
The street was deserted, everyone either working or slaving away around their homes trying to ensure that each and every speck of dust was destroyed before a neighbour caught sight of it, all save the rose bushes of Number Four.
Within these rose bushes, a young boy lay struggling with a weed that had become ensnared in the very heart of the thorniest rose bush in the front yard. Now the boy looked no older than six or seven, but was infact a collosal nine years of age and he wasn't too happy with his current predicament, as yet another scratch marred the tight skin of his underfed face.
"Stupid Durselys," the boy muttered to himself, still struggling with that lone weed. "How come Dudley gets to just sit on his fat bum and watch TV all day while I have to be outside in the cold wind."
To anyone who lived nearby, this was quite a common scene. Especially on the less appealing days to be outside gardening. No one dared to say anything however, because the Dursleys were firm in their belief that this nine year old child was a criminal degenerate and deserved the treatment he was given, Penance they called it, and who would risk their neighbourhood standing by bad mouthing last years 'Best Lawn and Garden' winners.
However there was a little something that went completely unnoticed by the rest of the neighbourhood. For the first time in the history of Privet Drive, the boy was answered politely.
"I do believe it is because they are a collosal waste of space and oxygen, my boy."
The boy, having not expected a response, jumped slightly and earned himself a few more battle scars of the great 'War of the Roses'.
"W-who said that?!" stuttered the boy, clearly afraid that his 'loving relatives' had over heard him, but then if they'd over heard him, he'd be getting beaten by now.
"I, or should I say, You did."
The boy was confused now, this voice wasn't making any sense at all! Wriggling his way free of the rose bush, earning a few more trophies of the war, he glanced about to see that there was not a single soul on Privet Drive as far as he could see.
"Where are you? How come I can hear you?" the boy said, confusion growing as the mysterious disembodied voice appeared to be just that, a voice without a body.
"I told you, I am you, and you are sitting in the cold, on the lawn in front of a rose bush."
"You're not making any sense who ever you are!" The boy was getting rather riled now, feeling as if the voice was mocking him in its obscurity.
"How can I put this in a way you might understand... I am a voice inside your head. Now lots of people have these voices, some people talk to them when they are lonely, others look to them for advice and guidance, some simply do what their voices tell them to. I am here, because I believe we are both getting rather tired of our current situation and I can help you do something about it."
"And just what exactly do you think you can do? Mr Voice-in-my-Head?" The boy was clearly getting aggitated now, thinking this voice was just an elaborate prank being played out by Dudley and his gang.
"Well, firstly I plan on giving you the control and freedom in your life to do as you please, then I think a side order of self confidence, followed up by a life lesson on what you can do to these wretched people. Then for dessert, a complete image make-over, so you look just as powerful and important as I know you can be."
"But I'm not important, I'm just a kid! I pick weeds in my aunt and uncles garden so they win prizes, I get picked on at school for having to wear my cousins hand-me-downs, I get bullied because I have to pretend to be as stupid as my cousin so he doesn't look bad. Hardly the most important person around."
"You really have no idea of your potential, do you? Look at your life this way, you are like the weed in that rose bush, you will never grow to your full potential so long as you are surrounded by thorns, or idiots as we'll refer to them from now on, now these idiots will constantly keep you under wraps, hidden away from a world full of potential simply because they have power over you. But all it takes is a little nudge, someone to come along and pull the idiots out of the way so the weed can be free to grow, to spread."
"But don't weeds just kill the plants they grow amongst?"
"Weeds my boy, simply take what they need. They do not live lush thriving lives like trees and flowers, they merely struggle on, sapping away on what they can get in their torturously controlled little environment. However set a weed free, in wild lands untouched by control and order? then that weed shall flourish into a mighty plant, showing its dominance by standing tall above all others, bringing down all who would block it from the sun."
The boy couldn't deny his 'voice-in-his-head' had a point. He'd seen pictures in school of all the wild-flowers growing in huge fields of colour, out of control, and in complete disorder. He thought then how beautiful it all looked, how natural it all seemed. Maybe the voice was right, maybe he wasn't meant to be surrounded in idiots all his life. (An image which caused him to giggle slightly every time he thought of it.)
There was however, one fatal flaw.
"But you don't understand," the boy said morosely, "I'm not special, or powerful. I'm just a freak."
"Hush now, thats nonsense. Just because your uncle calls you a freak doesn't mean you are. Just like your aunt calls those Lily flower seedlings 'Weeds'. If given half the chance, they'd blossom into beautiful Lillies. Think my boy, haven't you ever had a moment when you're really sad, or angry, and something wonderful has happened. Something magical?"
"Well sure, but Uncle Vernon says those things are unnatural and thats what makes me a freak." There was a soft note of sadness in the boys voice, his uncles distaste for him was not something he was unaware of.
"And of course these little Lily flowers will be unnatural too I suppose... just because your aunt finds them distasteful?"
"So you mean, all the wierd stuff that happens to me is normal? How come it never happens to Dudley?"
"My boy, you are a rare type of person. There are alot of you in the world, have no doubt about that, but there are many more like your relatives. Those who lack the power to change things. Those kinds of people are bitterly afraid and jealous of your type of people, and so your type of people live in hiding, so they don't have to hurt the weak people. All in self defence of course."
"So you're saying there's like, an entire hidden world out there? Where people with wierd powers live life like normal?"
"Yes my boy, that is exactly what I'm saying. This power is called Magic. It's that mysterious M word your uncle fears so much."
"I had always wondered about that... So my uncle is afraid of people getting cut in half, and card tricks?"
"No no, you misunderstand. Your relatives type of people, they created a type of illusion and slight of hand that they call magic. Think of magic in terms of power."
"Like electricity?"
"In a sense, yes. Except that your electricity is something humans aren't naturally born with the power to manipulate. Now credit where credit is due, your relatives type of people have done wonders with their unnatural control of electricity, channeling it in ways our kind can barely comprehend. However think of your magic as a kind of natural electricity, you were born with the power to harness and control it. You can tell it what to do, and it will do it. It is a part of your life like the blood in your viens. You can't say that about electricity now can you?"
To say the young boy was intrigued would be a severe understatement. The idea of all this power running through him, well it was a dream come true. 'Finally, something that proves I'm better than my Uncles claims. Maybe even people who'll accept me, be friends with me...'
"Let me get this straight. There is a power, Magic, running through me all the time. It's responsible for all the wierd stuff that happens to me. My Uncle is terrified of it and I can control it?"
"One day my boy, you could use that power to bring the world to its knees. Your Uncle is merely the beginning."
"Cool..." said the boy, amazement shining in his eyes. "Wait, you've told me all this, but you never even told me your name..."
"You may call me Tom."
"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
Tom laughed softly, the quiet serenity of his voice was soothing to young Harry. 'Finally someone who isn't laughing at my expense.'
"Harry my boy, I've known your name for eight long years now. So long I've waited to tell you all this, but I had to wait for the opportune moment. You had to be at a point where I could explain all this to you, and you'd understand. With careful logic and reasoning, you now understand me better than you ever could of. I'm glad Harry, that I can finally help put an end to your suffering."
"Wait, I'm nine! How come you weren't always part of me?"
"That Harry, is a story for another day. For now, we must get started on building a Harry Potter that will strike fear into your relaties. Someone who will command the respect that a mage of your standing deserves."
"Mage? Like a wizard?"
"Yes Harry, you are a wizard. Or at least that is the term that is commonly used to refer to our kind of people. Your relatives, we call Muggles, or Mundanes in more intelligent circles."
"So what now? Can I use magic to pull out that weed?"
"Leave it, instead, cut away at the roses with those scissors, let the Lily bloom, and watch your aunt wilt. A refreshing change..."
And so Harry did as Tom said, cutting the Lily free of the 'Idiots' constricting its growth. 'A perfect metaphor' thought Tom, 'Harry, soon you will feel the real power you hold within.'
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later that evening, after Harry had served his own personal thorns dinner, washed the afore mentioned dinner off the dishes (and floor, walls and windows. No thanks to Dudley.) Harry slipped off to his cupboard, where the first stage of Toms remodelling would begin.
"Now Harry, the first thing we have to teach you is to speak to me with your thoughts. As you are aware, I am in your head, so you need not vocalise what you wish to tell me. Simply say it as if you were reading to yourself, you can hear what you are reading, but no one else can. It's much easier than having to explain to people why you talk to yourself."
'Like this?' thought Harry, not fully expecting a response.
"Exactly Harry! My you are a quick learner. So keen to follow instructions... Now, let me explain how your magic has worked in the past. Previously your magic has responded to particularly stressful and emotional times, correct?"
'If you live in my head, you should already know...'
"Wit, Intelligence! From one so young? Excellent! I shall enjoy teaching you, my boy. I believe we can use this veiled side of your personality to great effect. No doubt it will infuriate your Uncle to no end. Now as I was saying, when your emotions are particularly high, when you're angry or afraid. This is when your magic is at its most responsive. There are a few other key emotions, but they are, unfortunately, something you've not had much experience with. Anyway, these emotions are what we need to bring out in you, so you can begin to make a few changes around here. Do you remember Aegis, Harry?"
--------Flashback-----------
Vernon had had one of those days at work. He had been made to fire that rather pretty little secretary of his. The one who was always so grateful for the advances he gave her in her salary. Well of course this had to have been the boys doing! So of course the boy deserved to be punished.
Harry had been beaten rather profusely that night. Sprawled across his closet, a mere four years old, Harry lay battered and bruised beyond recognition. Fortunately he didn't start school for another few months.
His magic however, was far more eagre to start working. Thus Aegis was born.
Earlier that day Harry had seen Dudley parading around the house with the latest bear he had acquired. A gigantic monstrosity of a thing. Pure white with big blue eyes, it looked rather out of place compared to Dudleys already notable 'mean streak'. That didn't stop Harry from wanting one though, seeing how his cousin would hug the bear tight, its stuffed arms almost appearing to try and hug the obese boy back.
Sitting alone in his cupboard, barely able to see for the tears parading in a silent march down his skeletal cheeks, Harry thought hard on the bear, staring at the miserable pile of rags he had to call his own. Harry had clutched a large black rag to himself tightly, it was an old coat of Dudleys, but that didn't stop Harry pouring his heart and soul into that hug.
Harry was never sure what had happened that night. He closed his eyes hugging a jacket, and opened them to see a pitch black teddy bear with glowing green eyes staring back at him, holding him like its life depended on it.
Its eyes almost seemed to plead with him, asking silently for him to never let it go.
Harry didn't want to. This bear, the first real thing he had ever had, that was all his. Untainted by his wretched relatives.
Such a thing of beauty, something so loved, deserved a name. But young Harry couldn't think passed the feeling of love that was radiating from the bear.
"Aegis" a voice called softly from the darkness.
'Aegis,' Harry thought. 'What does that mean?'
"Shield, my boy. And may he protect you from all that would bring you harm."
'Aegis, Shield... It's perfect.' Harry thought with a small smile, 'Maybe it'll keep Vernon away for a little while.'
Unfortunately Vernon found Harry asleep with the bear and thus Aegis' short, but beautiful life came to an end.
Harry cried for almost a week at the loss of that bear.
------ End Flashback ------
'I remember,' thought Harry bitterly, 'I remember Vernon burning the poor thing... I remember staring into those beautiful green eyes as they almost seemed to beg me for forgiveness.'
"Yes Harry, Aegis wanted so much to protect you from Vernon, but he was sadly unable to. Your magic wasn't strong enough to animate him fully. But what you feel now, that resentment, that longing... that is what we need to continue. I need you to harness all that delicious hate, all the little things you hate about your uncle, channel that into this pile of rags. Make something your uncle would truly hate to see you wearing. Visualise yourself as your uncle would, if he were truly terrified of you. See what you are wearing and will it to be. Create your revenge..."
And Harry did. He closed his eyes and thought about all the different types of people his uncle hated, those 'Goth freaks!' he heard Vernon ranting about, standing on a corner smoking. Those 'Punk freaks!' with their music blaring in the park a few houses down. Harry saw in his mind how they looked, and focussed on the pile of rags. He remembered the look on Aegis' face as his body burned. He remembered the incurable feeling of loss, as his only ever 'thing' was taken from him.
Had anyone been watching the cupboard under the stairs of Number Four Privet Drive, they might have seen the flash of green, they might have even noticed the door warp and bend in on itself, they might have even heard the gasp of triumph coming from a nine year old wizard who had just changed a pile of rags into something even his mighty uncle would shy from.
"Fantastic Harry! Its dark, its dangerous looking, and it even kind of fits wizarding dress. You truly have exceeded my expectations. Well done!"
No one had ever congratulated Harry before, it felt good. However as Harry looked over the new clothes, he felt a wave of tiredness wash over him.
"Sleep well Harry, you've earned it. Tomorrow, we unveil the new Harry Potter."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At around 5.30am Harry awoke with a start, still not sure if the events of last night were a dream, he gathered his wits and looked around his cupboard. Sure enough, his latest creation was still in a bundle in the far corner, where yesterday morning there had been only rags.
'Amazing,' thought Harry, ' I can really do magic!'
"Indeed you can Harry, now get dressed. You're Uncle will be awake soon. We want to surprise him don't we? But we're not quite finished yet. You look entirely too cute to be intimidating, even in these wonderful clothes. We must do something about your hair. Think hard again Harry, just like last night, on something that would make your relatives unhappy, and will it to be so."
Again, Harry closed his eyes and thought hard about what his relatives would disapprove of. A strange, foriegn memory came to his mind. A strange man, who looked to be in his early twenties and bore a striking resemblance to Harry except his hair was almost down to the middle of his back, was looking down at him, to his side was the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen. With long, flowing red hair, eyes that were almost perfect copies of his own and a smile that just demanded attention.
Unfortunately the memory faded out, but Harry was inspired. He visualised himself now, with the mans long black hair, reaching just passed his shoulder blades, only it had streaks of the womans red running through it, fading in and out so it almost looked like his hair was streaked with blood.
Harry heard Tom muttering his approval and opened his eyes.
'Did it work?' thought Harry questioningly 'Do you know who those people were Tom?'
"Yes to both questions Harry. It worked perfectly, and looks very fitting. Should go well with your new clothes. As for your second question, those people were your parents. The very fact you have memories from those times is remarkable. You truly are an amazing young mage."
'My parents?' Harry was filled again with an overwhelming sense of longing.
"Harry, I'm afraid we have no time to dream about your parents. Your Uncle will be awake any minute. Besides, it doesn't do to dwell on things we cannot change, cherrish your memories, but don't try to act beyond that. They are gone Harry, and you cannot bring them back. You must control yourself for what is to come."
'Sorry Tom, you're right. I'll get dressed.'
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Well, my delightful little audience. Our time for this evening has come to an end I'm afraid." drolled the elder vampire, watching the disappointment clearly envelop his amassed younglings.
With a slight crack, he rose to usher the young vampires out of his lounge, but not without one parting barb.
"Should you feel ready to bear witness to the horrors that are to unfold, return next time. I assure you it gets rather violent from here." The elder was grinning as the raw anticipation filled the younglings eyes, like starved hyenas waiting for their prey.
As they left the lounge, the elder returned to his wingbacked armchair, sipping from a glass of brandy.
'Foolish younglings don't even realise the sun will rise in a matter of minutes. They should be more aware of their surroundings' thought the elder, placing the glass back on the side table.
With a puff of smoke, he was gone. Off to sleep until he was called upon again, to tell the tales of the Potter boy.
((A/N: And so the first chapter of the re-writes is complete. This is the standard I want to aim for in all the re-writes and I hope to keep a more regular update schedule. I would also like to thank those who, even nearly five years after the last update, still review, and still add my stories as favourites. It is you who inspired me to undertake this massive project. Thank you all.))