It was a perfectly normal day on the perfectly normal street of Privet Drive, in the perfectly normal town of Surrey, in the perfectly nor - alright, yes, that's pushing it - in the country of England, in the United Kingdom. In the cupboard under the stairs of a perfectly normal house on said Privet Drive, lived a young Harry Potter.
Harry, though, barely knew his own name. In point of fact, he barely knew anything at all. He lived with his perfectly normal "family", consisting of a bulbous, whale-like Vernon Dursley, the horse-faced and remarkably skinny Petunia Dursley, and the son Dudley, who was growing to resemble his father in every way that counted. And for all they knew, or told him, his name was "freak", "boy", or even "that".
This young boy, Harry Potter's, will had been broken from a very young age. He was trained from the time he could walk to cook breakfast and dinner, and do a list of chores that a live-in maid would have walked away from.
Until one day, Harry Potter stopped.
He didn't ever announce it, he didn't ever say a word. He just stopped listening.
When his relatives told him to come out, he did not. When they beat him, he just silently took it, and still did not do what they said. The beatings got more and more vicious until they realized he simply was not going to budge. And at that point, the beatings stopped. And so did the food.
Which was alright, because he had stopped eating as well. He only ate enough to survive.
This was not a problem for anyone but Harry until it became time to go to primary school.
He refused to go.
They beat him, they cajoled him, they promised him things, and still he refused to go. Finally, they bodily picked him up, forced him to eat, forced him to get dressed, drove him to school, and dropped him off on the doorstep.
He refused to go in.
It became very clear to the teachers very early on that Harry would not do anything he was not physically forced to do. They called on him, and he did not answer. They gave him lunch, and he did not eat. His grades were atrocious because he absolutely refused to do any of the work. He never talked back, never said a word, by all rights he was a perfectly polite young lad, he just did not do whatever it is he was supposed to do.
For years, his teachers were at their wit's end, even moreso by the fact that somehow he seemed to pick up the skills he needed anyway. He learned how to read, and to write, and all while not doing a single thing. Social workers were called in, but by this time the abuse had pretty much stopped because the Dursleys realized it would be useless, so there was nothing they could do. They chalked it up to a "learning disability" and tried their hardest to make accomodations. Nothing worked. He remained scrawny, underfed, and completely unresponsive to anything that was required, requested, demanded, cajoled, or just asked of him.
And yet, somehow he survived. One day his relatives even dragged him to the zoo. He refused to walk. He refused to look. They tried to force him but the looks they were getting as they dragged a ten year old who was completely limp through the exhibits became too much, and they just left him in the car.
One day, on his 11th birthday, a letter came.
Because his relatives had long given up on having Harry get the mail, Dudley got the mail.
"Look!", he said. "The freak's got some mail!"
Vernon ran as fast as his massive legs would go and grabbed the letter. "Let me see that!" he said. And his face gradually turned a lovely shade of purple.
"I'll not have it!", he said. "Never!". And he tore up the letter.
Harry was oblivious. As usual.
Over the next few weeks, more and more letters arrived, and Vernon became more and more upset. Finally, having had enough, he dragged his entire family - and "freak" - to an island with nothing but a large, waterswept, stone lighthouse.
But that did not stop those who wanted to find him. There was a pounding on the door, as if by a massive hammer, and the door caved in. There stood the largest man any of them had ever seen.
"Harry Potter!", he bellowed.
"Stay away!", yelled Vernon. He had a large shotgun.
"Oh, and I suppose a great Muggle like you is going to stop me?", the interloper said sarcastically. With several steps he thundered over to Vernon, and before he could get a shot off, he plucked the shotgun out of Vernon's large hands, and bent the barrel - after which he threw it to the side.
"I'm here for Harry Potter. Where is he?", he roared.
Fearfully, the Dursleys pointed to a corner, where Harry was propped up. He was half asleep, his hair messy, his clothes unwashed, and he was far smaller than he should have been for his age.
Hagrid took one look at him, and rounded on the Dursleys. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?", he roared.
"Nothing", Petunia spat. "He's been like this for years. He won't do anything, he won't say anything, he just sits there and wastes space. He's just like his worthless parents."
"WORTHLESS?", Hagrid roared. "I'll have you know that James and Lily for the finest witches and wizards to ever grace the hallowed halls of Hogwarts!"
Harry perked up. Just a little. "Witches? Wizards? Hogwarts?", he rasped.
"Yes, Harry", Hagrid said, a little gentler. "Yer a wizard, Harry. And a thumping good one, I'd wager."
Harry shrugged. "I don't care."
"You don't care? How could you not care?"
Harry shrugged again. "I just don't."
Hagrid fished out the letter and handed it to Harry. Harry opened it, and read it. He crumpled it up and tossed it aside.
"Not going", he said, with an air of finality.
"What do ya mean yer not goin'", Hagrid said, genuinely confused. "Don't you want to find out what you are?"
"Nope", Harry said. "Not interested."
"How could you not be interested?"
Harry shrugged.
"Well, ya have to come wit' me, regardless.", Hagrid said. "We have to get your supplies."
"No."
Vernon and Petunia smiled to themselves. Maybe finally something would go right.
Dudley didn't care. He was too busy trying to eat the cake Hagrid had bought. Hagrid whirled around and gave him a pig's tail. Harry smiled. But just a little.
"It's not going to work", Vernon said, smiling triumphantly. "We've never been able to get him to do a single thing at all without physically forcing him."
Harry just stared at the wall.
Hagrid sighed. He wasn't paid enough for this. He pulled an object out of his pocket and spoke clearly into it. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I need help". Then he put it back and smiled smugly. Dumbledore would set things right. Great man, Dumbledore.
And Hagrid, Vernon, Dudley, Petunia, and Harry, stood in a stalemate until Dumbledore arrived.
A/N - a short chapter to begin with but I hope it sets the pace. I'll try to make the rest of the chapters longer. This story asks the question: What would happen if Harry absolutely refused to do anything at all?