A new story, quite different from The Balance. Hopefully more fast paced, but no promises, aha.
From Harry's POV, starting with the Dursleys for the first several chapters. Mild corporal punishment in this chapter.
The first rule that Harry learned was from his relatives.
Nothing in life is free and everything had it's price.
His uncle constantly bemoaned the fact that Harry was costing them money to raise. The clothes he wore, the room he stayed in, the food he ate, the school supplies he was allowed to use, everything was money taken from his relatives' purse to fund his living with them. And they demanded payment for it.
In return for food, he was made to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen. In return for pencils and paper, he tidied and vacuumed the living room. For Dudley's hand me down clothes, he helped with the laundry once a week, every Saturday morning. As a place to sleep, he was given a small cot and blanket, set up in the entry hall cupboard under the stairs, where he was left when there was no cleaning or use for him.
The first time he'd ever held a 10 pound note was at the age of 5. Harry, his aunt and his cousin had just left the grocery store after a shopping trip, with Dudley throwing a temper tantrum in the midst of their walk home. He wanted cookies, and he wanted them now.
Aunt Petunia, doing her best to calm her precious Diddums down, had pulled a note from her purse and slapped it into his little hand, demanding he run back to the store and purchase the box of fudge biscuits and not a thing more. He was to bring her the receipt and change, and she would be checking to make sure not a single pence was missing.
At 5 years old, Harry had never dealt with the word "change" or "receipt" before, but he dutifully responded with a programmed "Yes, Aunt Petunia" and took off back to the store. Standing in line with the orange slip of paper and a box of biscuits, he watched as the housewives of the surrounding neighborhoods purchased cart loads of food items, handing over paper and coins in exchange.
When it was his turn, he placed the box on the counter, and then handed the nice lady his own piece of paper. She smiled down at him, praising him for being such a big boy that he could buy his own sweets. He'd smiled back, shyly, and told her that they weren't for him, but for his cousin. He didn't really understand why her smile grew, or why she patted him on the head, but then she handed him a bag with the biscuits as well as a little candy, along with a handful of coins wrapped in a slip of paper.
His Aunt was not where he had left her on the side walk, and so he toddled back to the house on #4 Privet Drive. Clutching the grocery bag in one hand, and the coins and candy in the other, he thought about how he could savor the little sweet. The only time he got such treats was when it was a classmates birthday, and their parents brought in sweets and cakes for the class. If he was careful, his cousin would be too distracted by the biscuits to notice one little piece of candy.
When he finally reached the house, Aunt Petunia met him at the door, berating him for being so slow. She pulled the bag and change quickly from his grasp, and with his tiny little hands unable to hold a proper grip, the coins, paper, and candy were scattered through the entrance hall.
Aunt Petunia let our a frustrated sigh and bent to pick them up, snapping at him to hurry up and help her. When she spotted the candy, she went extremely still.
"Where did you get this?" she asked in a low voice, holding up the small drop of hardened sugar.
"The lady gave it to me." Harry's voice was small, knowing by the tone of her voice that he'd done something wrong, but unsure as to what, apart from dropping the coins.
"Do you think I'm going to believe that?" she cried, grabbing him by the arm, digging her nails into his skin. "You better not have spent a single pence on this boy, or you won't know what's coming to you."
The next moment was spent counting the change, and when she realized it was all there, her anger remained unsatiated.
"You little thief." She hissed slowly, jerking him closer. Her hands shook with anger as the clawed at him. "After everything we've given to you? Do you think it's fine to take something that's not yours, just because you want it? What would we do if the neighbor's found out we have a thief in our home!"
"But I didn't steal it!" Harry denied vehemently, uncomprehending as to why she was so furious at him, and a little scared at what was going to happen.
"You lie." She hissed, her lips pulling back in an ugly snarl. "You always speak lies! You are nothing but a liar and a thief, just like your parents." She stood and dragged him a short ways down the hall.
"You, boy, are going to stay in your closet. Vernon will want a word with you when we get home. You'll not be having supper tonight. If you're going to steal food like a little hellion, you don't deserve any of the food us normal people spend good money on to purchase."
Throwing the door open, she forced him into the closet, where he landed on the little cot. Harry's eyes watering, he called once more, "But I didn't steal it. She gave it to me and said I'm a good little boy! She did!"
Aunt Petunia glared down at him, causing Harry to flinch and sniffle. "Don't you lie to me boy! I won't listen to a word more. You are a bad little boy, no one gives bad little boys candy. Only good, hard working boys like Dudley get sweets, and we spend our hard earned money on those. Thieves who simply take what they want are the worst sort of people. "
The door to the closet was slammed shut and locked, leaving Harry to sit and cry as he absorbed what had just happened. If he needed money to buy sweets, then why had the lady handed him the candy? Had she expected him to pay, and he'd just rudely left?
He felt his face burn in shame, to think that he really was a bad little boy like Aunt Petunia said. He was a thief. He hadn't meant to though! Maybe he could pay her back? He vowed that if he ever had some of his own coins, he would go back and pay her, just to erase the fact that he had taken something without fair exchange. Nothing in life was free, and everything had a price.
The second rule came from his teachers.
Never be late.
When Harry had attended nursery school, his Aunt Petunia had walked both her son and nephew to the school. It wasn't too far for an adult, about 10 minutes or so, but it was an absolute adventure to a curious 3 year old boy like Harry. After he'd stopped to pick up an interesting rock or a curious piece of garbage for the third time, he was smacked over the head and told to stop dawdling.
Some days, Dudley would be fussy, demanding all of his aunt's attention on the walk to school, which she willingly gave him, and Harry was often forgotten. He may have stopped to watch a caterpillar crawl along a bush, or play in the water that sparkled in a puddle after the rain, or simply staring at nothing, daydreaming of red hair, green light, and flying through the air in an uproarious contraption of fantasy.
Aunt Petunia would arrive at the preschool to find him no longer following behind her. She would often discover him in a neighbors front lawn on her way home from delivering Dudley, and having been unable to tell the truth as to where her nephew was, she would drag him home and lock him in his cupboard as punishment, telling him he was "sick" and could go to nursery school tomorrow.
Harry never necessarily felt it was punishment. After all, he didn't really like nursery school as none of the children would play with him, and he was always getting in trouble for something that was Dudley's fault. Sometimes it was more fun to spend the day dreaming inside his closet, or helping Aunt Petunia with chores.
His aunt continued to walk them both to school, even when they reached the age of their reception year and began attending classes at the local elementary school, St. Grogory's.
However, the days where Harry joined his aunt and cousin became sporadic. Sometimes Dudley would have a crying fit over a toy, or food, and Aunt Petunia would usher Harry out the door, sending him to walk to school on his own. Whenever the teacher's at the gate noticed him coming alone, and they bothered to ask him why, he would always tell them the truth, because that's what Aunt Petunia said good little boys like Dudley always did. He would tell them that Aunt Petunia was with Dudley, who was crying.
More often that not, Harry's two missing relatives would soon appear around the bend shortly after he arrived, and the teachers soon began to assume that Dudley had a temper tantrum on the way to school and Harry had simply kept walking. After all, there was no feasible reasoning in their minds that could suggest Harry was coming all the way to school on his own.
At the beginning of his first year as a student, Harry was officially left on his own in the mornings. It was then that his daydreaming quickly became a problem.
During the first week of school, he had wandered into the classroom 30 minutes after the lesson had already started. He'd been forced to stand outside of the classroom, holding two buckets filled with water, missing the rest of the lessons until break. When he'd finally been allowed to set the buckets down, his arms and fingers were sore and numb, and he was embarrassed further by his teacher spending the recess break lecturing him.
"Being late is disrespectful to me as your teacher, it is disrespectful to your classmates who are here on time, and it is disruptive to their learning. Bad children who are late do not deserve to join the lessons."
Harry had come to enjoy his classes at elementary school, art and reading time especially, and was horrified to be forced to sit out on such fun lessons as punishment. His final punishment had led to his knuckles being rapped by a ruler in front of the other children, who giggled and whisper about him as he retook his seat.
He was never late again.
The third rule he learned was from his uncle, one that was easy enough for him to follow, but hard because he really didn't understand it.
The events leading up to the rule had started at school, on a normal day when Harry had been playing by himself, off to the side of the rest of the children, but still within sight of a recess teacher. Dudley had come out of nowhere and began to pick on Harry, starting a fight that brought the several staff members running.
As they were pulled apart, Dudley began screaming about Harry breaking his crayons. It was eventually discovered that all the crayons that had been laid out for their upcoming art class had all been broken in half. Harry was quickly brought up to the principle's office.
When questioned, he truthfully stated that he knew nothing about the crayons and that Dudley had started the fight on the playground. Dudley however, claiming witness to the act, called Harry a liar. The principal seemed to agree. Punishment for lying, she stated, was 3 swishes on the buttocks. In disbelief, Harry struggled, even as the principal forced him to bend over a desk.
During the short struggle, a sudden fizzle in his energy left him slack against the hands holding him down, and it was with tired reluctance that he received the cane across his small back. He almost didn't even feel the pain as three switches slapped against his clothed behind. When he was pulled up, he sleepily opened his eyes to a vision of bright blue.
The principal's hair, which had been brown only moments before, was now a brilliant aquamarine. Too tired to really comprehend what he was seeing, he was sent back to his classroom without another word, where art was almost finished, many children glaring at him as they colored with their broken crayons. Not even a full 2 periods later was he called back to the office to be absurdly accused of having dyed the principal's wig blue!
Despite evidence that came from his teacher claiming that he hadn't left the classroom in the time since he had last seen her, the principal said she would be sending a note home with him to the Dursleys. He thought about hiding the note, but his entire class, including Dudley, had caught wind of the principal's now blue hair, and he knew Dudley would be racing to tell his parents.
In fact, when he left the school building to begin his walk home, Dudley and Aunt Petunia were still waiting outside the school gate. The smirk on Dudley's face, and the icy glare of Aunt Petunia told him that he was in far more trouble than a few switches from the principal's cane.
The walk home was quiet, interspersed with giggles and chatter from his cousin; his cupboard was dark and quiet after he was locked inside, and the house was quieter still after he heard Uncle Vernon return home that night. Harry sat as silent as he could, wondering why nothing had happened yet.
Most of the teachers at school had been angry and loud and noisy because of the principal's bright blue hair. Everyone had said it was his fault, but he hadn't touched her wig. She had yelled at him for breaking the crayons, hit him for breaking the crayons and when he'd left the room, her hair was blue. It was like…
The door unlocked with a click. A purple faced Uncle Vernon stood outside, grabbed his arm, and dragged him down to the basement laundry room. He was pushed inside, falling to the floor next to the washer and dryer, and left staring up at his uncle.
"What did you do boy." His voice growled.
"I didn't do anything, Uncle Vernon, I swear!"
A hand flew across his mouth with a snap, shocking him. Uncle Vernon had never hit him before.
"Don't lie to me boy. What. Happened."
"Somebody broke all the crayons, not me, not me!" He flinched, expecting another blow, but it didn't come. "The principal gave me 4 canes, and I went back to class."
"What did you do to her hair, boy?"
"I didn't do nothing. Mrs. Moore will vouch for me! I never left the classroom! Her hair just turned blue suddenly! It's like magic!"
Uncle Vernon grew very still and quiet. Harry peeked from between his hands, startled at the absolute white of his uncle's face.
"What did you just say boy?"
Hoping to absolve himself of guilt, he repeated, "Her hair just suddenly changed blue, like magic or a witch!"
The smack that came his way hit him so hard that he fell to the ground, falling the floor with such a shock that he was momentarily left unable to breathe. His head throbbed from where it had connected with the stone floor, but he was still able to absorb his uncle's words.
"THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS MAGIC!"
He'd gotten three swats from his uncle's belt after that. When he'd woken in the morning, his head and buttocks still aching, he had wondered why the house was so quiet, and why no one had come to wake him. Aunt Petunia woke him again in the afternoon with a sandwich and a glass of water. She avoided looking at him, but gave him a warning before he went back to his cupboard.
There's no such thing as magic, so he'd best not say the word ever again.
Kinda hard to ask what you think when this is only the first chapter, but I hope to have the next few chapters out in a bit. I wrote the first third of this story for NaNoWriMo in November, so the first third is 50k words, minus some unnecessary scenes.
Some keywords for whats to come in this story.
Caractacus Burke and my original character his son Arvirargus Burke, as well as (Cassius) Borgin. So basically Borgin and Burkes will be a huge part of this story.
Magical underground, transporters, Class A Non-Tradeable Goods, the Philosopher's stone, betrayal, Voldemort, fake names, etc. There will be Hogwarts in this story, but I'm hoping to skim through when Harry is at school, and age him up quickly once things get going.
Who knows what will happen though. That's the fun of writing!
Please review and/or favorite and/or follow~