Roseworms Arising!

Chapter 1. Switch of the Flip

Harry could pinpoint the exact moment he realized the way his relatives treated him wasn't normal. He had been four at the time, just tall enough to reach the stove when standing on a stool, and therefore tall enough to add cooking to his already extensive list of chores. He had also been old enough to, surprisingly, read. Never let it be said he was stupid – though it was said quite often, regardless – for he wasn't. He had learned how to read from scraps of news papers left around by Uncle Vernon, and the occasional trashed book thrown away by Dudley. The latter, he would often sneak out to pick up from the trash can while doing his gardening chores. He reasoned that since it was thrown away, it was free property. The books certainly didn't mind being patched up a little with small, deft fingers and some tape, band aids and string – whatever Harry could get his hands on, at the time.

The realization came in the form of the TV. Now, Harry wasn't allowed to watch the TV, himself, but he would occasionally watch from the tiny crack at one of the walls in his cupboard. Dudley could often be found occupying his favourite spot on the sofa, and coincidentally blocking his view of the appliance, but sometimes, especially late at night when Dudley was asleep and Uncle Vernon was watching something or snoring away at the TV, he could sneakily watch and see glimpses of the world outside. Mistreated children, neglect, abuse and such were often the topic on the News, but it was only after he saw the movie Matilda on the TV one day when Dudley forgot to shut it down, that Harry realized something was wrong with the way he was treated. It was also the spark that lead to Harry discovering the joys of the library.

The Dursleys were all too pleased to not have to see him all day, and as long as Harry completed his chores he was free to come and go as he pleased. He would only have to make sure to be back by 9 pm, or face a cold night outside at the doorsteps. He knew – from experience – that his so called family wouldn't come to open the door, no matter how he rang the doorbell or knocked. At library, the staff quickly became accustomed to him, and after seeing him enough times even made him a special library card that Harry got the signature for by noting it was a school paper that required one. His uncle signed without even glancing at it. Harry's favourite librarian was Mrs. Kettle, who by no accounts resembled one except when she was screeching angrily at some teenagers for ruining books. Mrs. Kettle called Harry Matilda, being familiar with the story and finding the child visiting the library so often quite alike. Harry wondered, sometimes, if he should tell her he was a boy and not a girl, but figured it didn't hurt. And he liked being called Matilda. It was her who showed him the wonderful world of books.

Harry would be the first to acknowledge the similarities between himself and Matilda. He had, after all, witnessed first hand all the strange things that seemed to happen near him. Similarly, he found himself unchallenged and his progress smothered by his relatives. While they weren't his parents – who, according to the Dursleys, were ungrateful drunkards who got what they deserved – they were still his caretakers, and couldn't have cared less for him. Harry found ways to challenge himself in the library, with all the books, and with his thirst for something, anything, that could change how things were, quickly finished with the children's section and moved on to teens. It was also at this time that he proceeded to read some non-fictional books about science, mathematics, psychology, and whatever sparked his interest. It was these books that gave him the idea to try to train his "Freakishness", which was what his relatives called anything even remotely odd (or that upset Dudley) that occurred in his vicinity.

Harry started his training, shortly after he turned all of six years old, with meditation exercises suggested by books for concentration and focus – he figured that if he could find a way to focus better, his Freakishness would be easier to control as a result. However, even though he greatly enjoyed the exercises and found them helpful for keeping his calm when being insulted by Uncle Vernon or when trying to plan an escape route when running from Dudley, they did nothing for his Special Freak Skills. The only difference he noted was a decrease in them, so he figured he was going at it the wrong way.

The next thing Harry tried was staring. It was quite similar to focusing, except instead of focusing – or trying to – on nothing, he focused on a single, solitary object and tried to see if something would happen to it. While this proved interesting of its own accord, the only reward he got from his experiment was an aching head, after Aunt Petunia hit him with a frying pan for "being unnerved by his freakish glare".

After his latest failure, Harry figured he was still taking a wrong approach. He spent a day at the library not reading, and instead simply thinking and trying to remember what had been going on during all the previous appearances of his Freakishness. He finally came to the conclusion it had something to do with emotions. All the times before, he had been either feeling very angry, scared or sad – all considered negative emotions according to one of his psychology books. Harry wondered if it was impossible to do Freakishness with good feelings, or if it was simply because he had never been happy or excited enough. It's not like you encounter a lot of happiness living in a dusty cupboard with spiders for company.

Armed with this knowledge, Harry set out to do some new experiments. This time he knew to avoid doing any of them anywhere near Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon – Dudley, however was a different story. Luckily Harry had enough self preservation instincts to know it'd be a bad idea to try anything on Dudley before he was sure of it working. He had a lot of experience with Dudley's fists and friends. Hard learned lessons are the ones that stick the longest.

Harry's first experiment was a total failure – not because it didn't succeed, per say, but because it succeeded too well. There's a limit to everything, and blowing up the house while trying to do something small is breaking it, like using a nuclear bomb to kill a fly would be. Harry had decided to start out with anger, the strongest of negative emotions he could come up with, and something he didn't have to work too hard to gather. There was plenty in his life to be angry about. The problem was how to get his anger to do something – in the past situations, there had been a specific result indicated by the object of his feeling. It wouldn't do to be angry at his situation and find out the Dursley home was on fire, after all. Especially with him still in it. So Harry had concluded that first gathering his anger from the Dursleys and his situation would be alright if he managed to concentrate the feelings of anger on something else right after – something like the annoying mid boss in Dudley's new Wii game, Flight From Death – The Mighty Bumblebee.

Flight From Death – The Mighty Bumblebee was all the rage recently, at least if Dudley was to believe, and usually his cousin was up to date when it came to things like games or television. Dudley had been complaining about the impossible mid boss for weeks now, saying that no one at school knew how to defeat him either. Several people had tried, only to find their Bumblebee munched to death in the mouth of the evil Dark Mid Boss Voldemort. Harry decided the Dark Mid Boss Voldemort would make the perfect target for his first experiment in anger fuelled Freakishness.

Harry's chance to put his experiment to test came on a sunny Sunday, when the Dursleys reluctantly left him locked in his cupboard (they didn't know Harry could easily open it from the inside, even locked, by lifting the rickety door just a little bit) to celebrate Dudder's birthday at a local amusement park. Immediately after hearing the car pull out from the yard, Harry proceeded to lift the door that tiny bit it took to open it and ran to the living room, plopping down in front of the Wii console. With a few experimental pokes the tv and console were up and running, and the game loaded up from the last save point, right before the mid boss' lair, a gigantic swamp. Watching the bumblebee fly unerringly to the swamp, Harry wondered if bees could read, and if so, why it would ignore the neon signs claiming Danger!!! and Trespassers Killed Without Remorse!!! with big, winking letters and skull marks. Why would a bee enter a swamp to begin with?

The start of the battle music, a cheerful little foxtrot, shook Harry from his thoughts and he focused to stare at the screen for a few moments, watching Dark Mid Boss Voldemort waltz – literally – from one of the big morasses, twirling a carrot. After staring for quite the while (it was a rather fascinating sight) Harry paused the game and proceeded to gather all his anger left over by his treatment at the Dursleys, all the while staring at the Dark Mid Boss Voldemort. The despicable, ridiculous Voldemort, his worst enemy, who he hated with all of his might, all of his heart, all of his spirit, abhorrent, horrendous Voldemort, dressed in his pink tutu, twirling his pink carrot- wait, what? For there he was, the Darkest Mid Boss of all times, wearing a pink tutu with a matching pink carrot, still doing his waltz, before a gigantic shoe descended from the skies, equipped with – as Harry just barely had time to read – a level 3 Pike of Doom, and kicked Voldemort back into the morass. As Harry stared at the still paused game, the morass let out a small poof of pink gas, causing him to pick up his gaping jaw, but did nothing to stop his staring.

Harry had barely enough time to register dropping the Wii remote before the scene on the screen started to shake, even while the poor bumblebee hurriedly buzzed ahead through the Voldemort-equipped morass, picking up all the dropped money while doing so. As if answering to the shaking going on in the game, the house around him started to shake, as well. Harry figured, rather quickly in his opinion, that a shaking house was probably not a good sign and getting out might be a clever thing to do. As he ran from the room and through the front door, Harry thought that if the game console still worked when Dudley got back, his cousin would be quite surprised to find himself about million honeycombs richer and the defeater of the Evil Mid Boss Voldemort and his pink, err, orange carrot.

Then again, a Wii console was rather certain to suffer some damage after being buried in the rubble that used to be a house just a few minutes before. Probably. Harry figured he had been doing quite a bit of staring lately, but didn't let that thought deter him from staring some more, this time at the smouldering remains of what used to be the Dursley residence.

Well, he thought, at least his experiment had been a failure of a success.

AN: So, this was going to be a completely serious, perhaps even angsty fic. Then I made the mistake of chatting with my friend about it, and it took a decided turn for the weirder. Make that the weirdest. I have an idea where I'm going with this, but expect some twists and turns along the way. And no, I haven't forgotten Matilda. Seriously.

Since this is brainstorming story, feel free to give suggestions. Also, I'm not yet sure if there will be any pairings for this, but I'm up to suggestions there as well – just rest assured it will NOT be a HarryGinny, since I loathe Ginny – sorry to the Gin lovers – nor will it be HarryDraco, because that's just overdone. And Snape will remain his bitter, snarky self in this one.

Next chapter

Harry gets kicked out and picked up by someone unexpected, and something curious is going on at the Voldefront.