Harry Potter and the Clueless Gopher

AN: Just to disappoint everybody out there, I doubt there will actually be a gopher in this story. Sad, I know. I thought I'd tell all of you before you actually start reading the story. I don't want a bunch of fan-girls attacking me in my sleep for the lack of gophers. Hm, where was I? Oh, yeah! You all know who owns the characters. If you don't, then I'd recommend you pick up one of JK Rowling's books, they are rather popular nowadays. I'd hate the first contact anybody has with Harry's world be something that spurted out of my mind.

Chapter 1

Back to the Drive

By now he should be used to it. By now being back in Privet drive shouldn't get under his skin like that. Dumbledore had died. It was his wish for Harry to go back to a place he had never enjoyed calling home. Who was this scrawny kid to defy the wishes of a dead man?

Sure, he had grown over the last few years, but for his age he was still shorter than most. Being underfed for so long does take its toll on the body. He was not ugly; some actually found him attractive in a messy sort-of-way. Maybe it was his eyes, his mother's beautiful green eyes, constant reminders of the love that saved his life. Maybe it was true, something he had never wanted to believe. Did girls really dig lighting bolt scars?

Harry was snapped from his musings with the tap of a beak against his window. A fluff of feathers fluttered forward, failing to stop before the young wizard. The collision caused both parties to fall backwards and a dignified 'Hoot' to be heard from the other side of the room. Hedwig had never really warmed up to that excitable owl by the name of Pig.

"Hullo Pig" said the young man, giving the owl a treat from his pocket. Because it's not weird to carry owl treats in your pocket...

He took his letter from the owl and a smile crept onto his face before being shut down completely. Why did she write to him? Hadn't he been clear that he couldn't afford to be happy and have someone support him both physically and emotionally?

'I guess I'll have to send Ginny the memo again'

My dearest Ginny,

Though my heart beats only for you, I must remind you that I cannot be happy. It is part of the Harry Potter fan-code. You must wait a few chapters before I'll even give some thought to you. Seeing as you are writing six letters per day, I must assume you have not gotten the memo. Don't worry, I'll attach a copy with this letter. Send your family my love

Harry

With that done, he continued on his musings. Harry had only been in number 4 Privet Drive for a few days, and already he was tired of it. He hadn't slept well in the past couple of nights, having very realistic feeling dreams. In one all he had seen was a very bright light. It didn't have a place of origin, if anything it seemed to be emanating from him. The next night it was the same, just that this time it was even brighter. Was Voldermort trying to tap into his mind again? Was he asking too many questions to nobody in particular?

There wasn't anything else for him to do. He could read the newspaper, but that was rather depressing. He could study, but that was a waste of time seeing how he couldn't do anything practical. He could make fun of his cousin, but that was just too easy.

Harry smiled at the memory of Dudders reaching for his behind each time the young wizard oinked.

The next morning Harry woke up with cold sweat flowing freely. No longer haunted by bright lights, the dream had started rather innocent. He had been walking along the beach, watching the waves crash on the rocks bellow. He enjoyed the ocean, at least what he imagined it would look like seeing how he had never been close to seeing it first hand. On closer inspection, the rocks were actually whales, stranded on the beach. A large cry rang through the air; the whales seemed to be welcoming their death. Unable to take it any more, Harry fell to his knees and cried.

As he put his hands on the ground the earth began to shake below him. A large wave came roaring, washing all the whales away into the ocean. Relief lasted exactly 20 seconds, when the aftershock caused another wave to come crashing, this time taking Harry with it causing the teen to wake.

Never in his life had Harry experienced something so realistic. Even when he found himself inside of Riddle's mind, it was always abstract, as if he knew it was beside himself.

Freaking out could have been a proper term to describe this adolescent. No Dumbledore to ask, no parental figure to guide him, he needed to come up with the ideas on his own. After serious thought and hours of pondering the idea hit him like a ton of bricks.

"I shall make myself a smoothie"

It was early enough for the lazy bunch… I mean, the Dursley's to be asleep providing a clear coast for Harry down on the main floor. It was only noon during a weekday after all. Grabbing a mixture of fruits and vegetables, he pressed the 'blenderize' button, regretting it almost instantaneously. Sometimes, mind you, only sometimes, his conscience said something worth noting. Personally, I believe this was one of those cases.

'Good job idiot, wake up the whole bunch with as much noise as you can.'

The trampling sound of hippopotamuses coming down the stairs was expected. What was not was the fact that nobody had yelled… yet.

"BOY!"

I retract my previous statement.

"You have a lot of nerve waking me up this early on my day off. I ought to throw you out into the … Is that a smoothie?"

"Yes uncle Vernon"

"I am rather parched at the moment. Give it over!"

It was the last straw. 'How dare he? The abuse! The insanity! The smoothie!'

"No, make your own," Harry managed to say with the coolest and calmest of tones.

Flabbergasted, the half pork/half man didn't know what to do. After all those warnings from those freaks over the years, he knew that he couldn't actually do anything. He resorted to the dirtiest of tricks, one that he knew for sure the teen would not know how to react to.

"Please?"

Rolling his eyes, the youngster poured the smoothie into a tall glass and drank it very slowly, savoring it almost as much as the look of rage that kept building up on his uncle's face.

Once back in his room, a small smile crept on Harry's face, all previous worries gone. Maybe making the smoothie wasn't such a bad idea after all.

AN: I don't expect a lot of reviews. But of course I'd like to point out that they are not only welcomed but required. You took the time to read this chapter, it will only take you a fraction to write something good or bad about it. Scratch the last part… It will only take you a fraction of time to write something good about it. Bad reviews take an insumra… inuma… a lot of time.

J/k though, review's are welcomed. Especially because the plan for this story is rather open, and I wouldn't mind throwing in Omake's at the end of the chapters with plot bunnies any of you might have.