Love's Keen Disregard.
Chapter 1, beginnings.
A/N I'd like to apologise in advance for any grammatical or spelling errors I make. Because there will be many. And if you don't like the story, don't hate on it. I just like writing. With that being said, enjoy. Oh, and I HATE planning, so sorry if it sees a bit jumbled. I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own the rights to the plot and any characters that I might make.
Harry Potter was an unusual boy. He didn't like the summer holidays, he loved school (Only when Dudley was pretending to be ill, which was about once a week.) He swore when he talked to animals they looked at him not like they could understand what he was saying, but could understand this thoughts and feelings. It was with this thought, that he looked up at the ceiling of his make-shift bedroom that animals were his only real friends. Especially snakes.
He was shaken out of his musings, however by a sharp tap on his tiny door.
"Get up!" Said a god- awful screechy voice. "I'll not have you laying around all day. There's work to be done!"
Jesus. Even with 10 years of getting used to it, that voice still left his ears ringing. Harry heaved a deep sigh, and started getting ready for was bound to be a physically and mentally wearing day. For it was Dudley's 11th birthday. Every year Harry was forced to get everything prepared for Dudley's birthdays since he knew what a birthday was.
He went about finding the least of his holey clothes, and tugged them on. On any normal day he would have worn his shabbiest of clothes because he loved winding up his aunt and uncle, even if his did earn him a sharp hit round the head. He went into the kitchen, and saw his usual chore list. He couldn't help it. His jaw dropped.
"What are you looking so shocked about, boy?" A gruff voice said." What, did you think that it would be any less this year just because you were hurt a few weeks ago? And you're still 'healing' or 'fragile'." He quoted with his fingers. This was what the nurse said. Uncle Vernon had beat Harry half to death, and not out of fear of Harry's well being, but because of what the neighbours might think if Harry was suddenly dead, took him to hospital. Using the story that Harry fell down the stairs. Where the nurse had had "He doesn't have any serious injuries, hut he'll be sore a for a few days, so don't let him do anything too strenuous." And without a second glance at the quiet boy, sent him on his way.
Harry stared at the pot bellied man incredulously, but didn't say anything. He hadn't said anything that his uncle might redeem disrespectful since he almost killed him. And Harry realised it was only because people would wonder where he was, that kept him alive.
He looked back at his chore lost to answer his uncle, not wanting to meet those malicious, piggy eyes. "No uncle. I'll get on it right away."
Harry smelt the overwhelming reek of alcohol, overwhelming because like all malicious men, Uncle Vernon had the tendency to hit first, think never. This was increased ten fold when he had been drinking. "Good. Because if one thing is out of place today, you'll wish you were never born."
I wish that very day, harry thought to himself. No doubt Uncle Vernon would see that as 'cheek.'
With that, Uncle Vernon went to plonk himself down on the sofa for well deserved rest (in his mind, anyway.) Being abusive to 11 year-olds was hard work.
Finally, the monumental task of what was to do on the list, was starting to sink in. He had to by lunch time:
-Hoover, dust and polish the whole house.
-Mop the kitchen floor.
-Put up the party decorations.
-Get the food ready.
-Clean the bathroom.
-Put away all the washing.
-Prepare the garden. (Although, Harry didn't really know what that involved.)
All that by lunch and it was barely 9. Harry pulled all his inner strength, and set about his tasks. Harry was so used to doing chores by now that he didn't notice time slip by. Whenever he had to do the ridiculous chores that he Dursleys set him, he would let his mind wander and think about the parents he couldn't remember. For he knew they were dead, because the Dursleys often spoke about harry as if he wasn't in the room. Harry often wondered if they could only see him when they wanted to say something or do something abusive to him. From what harry could gather over the years his parents were lazy, arrogant, jobless, pennyless people who died in a car crash after getting intoxicated. Harry didn't know what 'intoxicated' meant but he was sure that it wasn't a very nice way to die.
Not only this but Harry gathered that I wasn't a very respectful death. And when harry thought of his parents, he thought of warmth, and love. Surely if his parents were also mean disrespectful people he wouldn't feel so loved and warmth every time he thought of them, he thought, as he tried to remove a very stubborn puke stain from the rug.
It was 11:30 and harry was starting to get restless. He still hadn't got the garden ready, and was just debating on Whether to ask Aunt Petunia what she wanted him to do, when he heard the squeak of the letter box, then something paper sounding hitting the mat.
Harry's eyebrows came down in a frown. Not only was it Sunday, but the post came early in the morning. He went to the door, Apprehension building. Something out of the ordinary never sat well with the Dursleys. His apprehension grew to a small panic when he saw that he envelope had no stamp. He picked it up.
Mr. Harry .J. Potter
No. 4 Privet Drive
Surry
The Cupboard Under The Stairs.
Ok. Harry was defiantly panicking now. Not only had he gotten his first letter in his life, but whoever wrote it knew that he slept under the stairs. Oh no, this would defiantly not sit well with the Dursleys. Someone who was most likely very sure of their selves (If the neat, elegant writing was anything to go by.) Had thought of Harry as note worthy, and knew where he slept.
Harry had to open it. He looked at the clock hanging in the hallway. 11:55 Harry looked around no-one was in sight. He crept to his cupboard, and went in. accidentally slamming the door closed in his anticipation. He listened for a few seconds and heard nothing and started opening his letter.
With shaking hands he withdrew the parchment, he noticed, not paper. And read:
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.
We will accept your owl not later than 30th of August. A list of your school supplies are enclosed on a separate piece of paper.
It is also our duty to inform you that First years will not be accepted to join the quidditch teams.
If you are muggleborn a member of staff will come on the 12th of August to explain everything to your parents/ guardians.
Students may also bring if they desire an owl, a cat or a toad.
Harry stared at the writing. Things started to make sense. Harry Potter was a wizard.
