Disclaimer – Not mine. Don't own it. Don't particularly care if you sue me, but it'd be a waste of your time.
Summary – Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always tell people that Harry goes to St. Brutus' Center for Incurably Criminal Boys... What if Harry ended up going there for school, and it was much more than it seems?
A/N – I checked to see if someone had already done this particular 'What If' and didn't find anything. If you did a story on this line, sorry! I have another story on fanfiction... Don't read it. Please. I was a newbie then, my current project is on fictionpress, where I am also called QestioningReason. Check it out if ya'll want, this'll be second place to that story, for times when I don't feel like writing anything really deep. If enough people read both stories, Kay might make a guest appearance as a human.... That'd be weird, but cool....
Harry crossly untangled himself and put the palm of his hand to the lightening bolt scar on his forehead, which had begun to sting painfully. He rubbed at it with two fingers, using the rest of his hand to push his messy mop of black hair off of his damp forehead.
Idly glancing at his alarm clock, Harry discovered that it was just past seven in the morning. There was no use going back to sleep now. He crossed the room carefully, avoiding the bits of broken stuff that had once belonged to his cousin, Dudley, with the intention of getting some day clothes out of his dresser.
Halfway across the room, a split second before Harry would put his foot down on some sharp, broken, plastic /thing/, a loud, impatient tap came from the window. Harry whirled to face the window, adrenalin from the nightmare still running through his veins.
Instead of Uncle Vernon's fat face, or, worse, whatever face the Dark Lord was currently using, Harry saw a large barn owl, it's feathers tossed by the wind, which was carrying a heavy letter with the Hogwarts seal.
Confused, Harry walked over to the window and let the owl in, who hooted appreciatively. The letters for school weren't meant to be let out for another few weeks. The boy opened the door to Hedwig's cage for the barn owl to get some water. Hedwig was out hunting.
Harry leaned against his desk as he opened the letter, meeting the familiar green, flowing script that could only belong to Albus Dumblebor, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where Harry had spent most of the last three years.
Harry -
There has been a slight emergency here at the school. No one was seriously hurt, don't worry. It seems that Voldemort and his supporters have managed to get through Hogwarts' defenses and apparate directly onto the grounds. Sirius has had to depart quickly, please do not try to contact him, as it would undoubtedly reveal his location to the Death Eaters. We hope to have this problem rectified by the second semester. Until then, your Uncle, who I have had words with, has found a suitable place for you to spend the first semester. St. Brutus', or something. I know – you don't think that you will enjoy the first semester there. Keep in mind, not all is as it seems. You will be in no way cut off from the Magical community. Quite the contrary, in fact. You will understand after you start school there. I believe it will be a most enlightening experience.
- Dumbledor, you know all of the titles.
Harry glared at the letter for a moment, trying to decide if it was more fitting to rip it into shreds or to light it on fire, when something occurred to him. The dream, hazy in memory... Voldemort had mentioned apparating, this must be what he was so happy about.
The owl decided it was a good time to leave, taking the young Wizard's lack of response as acceptance, and flew out of the window. Harry started to slam the window shut, but stopped himself just in time, knowing that waking up his Uncle this early in the morning would be a bad idea.
With a resigned sigh, Harry threw on some of Dudley's old, oversized clothes, and slowly descended the stairs into the Dursley's immaculate living room. The downstairs clock read 8:00, so Aunt Petunia would be down the stairs in moments, before bustling back up to wake Uncle Vernon and Dudley.
Having nothing better to do, Harry set about cutting a grapefruit into quarters. Dudley was on a diet, and the whole family was taking part in it, which, unfortunately, included Harry. Aunt Petunia came down the stairs, looking as neat and spotless as her living room, and nodded to his Nephew, "Good. You're up. After Breakfast, I want you to weed the front garden. Maybe that will keep you out of trouble."
Harry responded with an empty, muttered, "Yes, Aunt Petunia." He didn't really care. His Aunt puttered around the kitchen for a moment, before going upstairs to wake her 'Dudy-kins.' Uncle Vernon had already left for work. At least her wouldn't be gloating over Harry's plans for the first semester.
As Harry placed breakfast at the square table, he briefly considered writing Ron and Hermione. He would get instant sympathy, but Dumbledor would undoubtedly tell them within the next few days. Harry just wanted to forget about St. Brutus' for as long as possible.
Harry totally ignored the conversation during breakfast, or lack thereof, as Dudley was staring blankly at the morning cartoons. After cleaning up the dishes, he dutifully weeded the garden, but mostly because he had nothing better to do.
While the afternoon was wilting away, Harry cleaned the lunch dishes and shuffled up to his room. He kicked open his school trunk, and grabbed the first book he found. He probably wouldn't even be able to /read/ about the magical world for a whole semester, despite what the Headmaster said. Harry was determined to memorize all of his schoolbooks by then, and do all of his summer homework, just in case.
Harry walked down to dinner, carefully bereft of calories, due to Dudley's diet, with a feeling of dread. Uncle Vernon would be there, and he would know about Harry's plans of going to St. Brutus'. Harry didn't need to be able to tell the future to know that it would not be a pleasant meal.
Harry slid into his place at the table, across from his ugly, fat Uncle and to the right of his uglier, fatter Cousin. Aunt Petunia seated herself on the remaining side of the table, handing out everyone's meal. To Harry, it looked like a bunch of fat-free hamburgers that were missing the buns, a lump of something gray closely resembling a softer version of a rock, and some yellow mush that was, supposedly, corn.
While Harry and the Dursleys started in on their dinner, Uncle Vernon grinned at Harry from the other side of the table, the pink folds of fat crinkling up around stupid, small eyes, "Well, boy," Uncle Vernon's voice was nasal and jarring, and his chins jiggle as he talked, "Looks like even that freak school of yours agrees that you're a criminal. Following after that godfather of yours, eh?"
Wanting dearly to jinx his uncle into several small, slimy pieces, Harry replied in a nonchalant voice before he could stop himself, "Yeah, I suppose so. But, I reckon I'll do a much better job than him."
Uncle Vernon, obviously not realizing all, or anything, that his nephew's response meant, simply leaned forward to peer at Harry, making him seem more like a fat, pink, shell-less turtle than a pig, and said sneeringly, "I wouldn't talk like that at St. Brutus' if I were you, boy. Might get you into some trouble. We wouldn't want that happening, now would we?"
Harry shrugged, keeping his expression calm and careless, as he rose from the table and picked up his mostly empty plate and cup, "Hmm." The Boy Who Lived cleaned up his dinner things, and the rest of the family's, as they finished eating, while tuning out further comment from his Uncle. Harry knew he would have an awful time, he didn't need anyone else to point it out for him.
Harry got into bed without any more rational thought. He found himself staring morosely at the calendar situated at the head of his bed. It was supposed to be joyfully counting down the days until Hogwarts began again. It was totally useless if Harry wanted to know how long he had until the beginning of St. Brutus'. He didn't know when that school would start, in any account.
Hedwig hooted encouragingly from the other side of the room. It only served to remind Harry that he would have to send her away – probably to the Weasly's – before going to school. The last, depressing thought in his head as Harry drifted off into the sweet oblivion of sleep was that Dumbledor had said, 'We hope to have this problem rectified by the second semester,' not, 'We will.' As far as Harry was concerned, it would be a long time before he would see Hogwarts again.
A/N – first chapter is totally not beta-ed, if you ignore the Microsoft Word thingy. Please review, it's appreciated and stuff. Later chapters will probably be longer. I never realized how much easier it is to write fanfiction as opposed to original works. There will be a definite twist in the next two chapters, things aren't as hopeless as Harry thinks they are. Review!