AN: Hey all. This is Chapter 1 of Harry Potter: Loyalties. Just so you know, the beginning of this chapter is canon, but then takes a sharp right turn. Any and all Text quoted from the book will be in Bold italicized, like this. Otherwise, this is my own works. It will loosely follow canon, and may see some character deaths that weren't in the books. So have fun, and please read and review.
Harry went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually. Harry sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room, but Harry was far too used to this to care. He helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict.
"...the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately."
"No need to tell us he's no good," snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. "Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!" He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed.
Casting a final glance the T.V, Harry walked outside, intent on spending as much of his birthday away as possible. "BOY!" Uncle Vernon was waddling towards him. "Marge is coming over for visit. You best be on your best behavior or no supper for a month. Understood?" Harry nodded, before bolting out the door. Aunt Marge, or the Barge behind closed doors, was a whale of a women with a bulldog who loved the taste of harry's flesh. Everytime she came over, the dog either bit him, ate all his food, or found some other way to make harry's life hell.
That night, Harry was in his room, reading Introduction to Basic Runes. He had decided to take Runes and Arithmacy, as Divination seemed like a joke, and he needed to stop slacking. Ever since the events in the chamber, he had noticed how much he was slacking in class. From Transfiguration to Potions, he had slacked i every class except Defense. Now, he was determined to do his best. No one would be in danger because of his slacking again. Just as he was turning the page, the sound he had been dreading all night sounded. The doorbell. From downstairs, he could hear the Barge showering praises on Dudley. Groaning, he put the book down, deciding to make himself known, and get the torture out of the way.
"So!" she barked. "Still here, are you?" "Yes," said Harry. "Don't you say "yes" in that ungrateful tone," Aunt Marge growled. "It's damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you. Wouldn't have done it myself. You'd have gone straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on my doorstep." Harry was bursting to say that he'd rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but the thought of the Hogsmeade form stopped him. He forced his face into a painful smile. "Don't you smirk at me!" boomed Aunt Marge. "I can see you haven't improved since I last saw you. I hoped school would knock some manners into you." She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache, and said, "Where is it that you send him, again, Vernon?" "St. Brutus's," said Uncle Vernon promptly. "It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases."
As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Harry caught himself thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Harry to stay out of their way, which Harry was only too happy to do. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, wanted Harry under her eye at all times, so that she could boom out suggestions for his improvement. She delighted in comparing Harry with Dudley, and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents while glaring at Harry, as though daring him to ask why he hadn't got a present too. She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person. She glared at Harry, willing him to say something. Anything she could use to reprimand him. As the evening wore on, more and more faults were found in Harry. From how he was wearing the "Generously donated clothes on his back" to "Using Dudders toy room to sleep in. What happened to keeping him under the stairs?"
Threw all the abuse, all the torture, not a word. Harry just took it. He didn't anger when Marge implied he was mentally inferior to his cousin. Or shout when she implied all of his friends did it out of fear of murder. He only briefly angered when told that he wasn't even good for breeding, just another useless runt to be drowned. As the visit finally came to an end, Vernon was staring at Harry, fear prevalent in his eyes.
"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia" - she patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovel-like one "but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us."
Harry stared at the bulky women. Surprise and anger written all over his face. A slight breeze was picking up, as well as clouds darkening the sky. Petunia was looking around, checking all of the windows. When she saw all of them were closed, she stared at harry, fear showing in her eyes.
"This Potter," said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what he did?" Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents. "He - didn't work," said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Harry. "Unemployed." "As I expected!" said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who -"
Suddenly, there was a hole in the wall, leading to garden. The breeze was now a maelstrom. In the center of it, a 14 year old boy, who was holding his hand straight in front of him. No one moved. Suddenly, Harry made a fist, and Marge's screams could be heard, as the bones in her hands started to break. Dudley watched his cousin in shock, as Petunia fainted, and Vernon grabbed his shotgun, the barrel having been straightened in the three years hence. As sudden as the firing of the weapon was, the pellets all stopping in the maelstrom were even more so. Vernon stared in shock, as the boy turned his head, and his eyes appeared to be wreathed in flames. Marge's screams intensified. "I will be leaving now. Try to stop me, and you will end up like her. I will not be coming back. This is no longer my home, and I want nothing to do with you."
Harry then turned, and marched upstairs. As he burst into his room, everything he owned started to fly up in the storm. His clothes and books flew into one of his trunks. His gifts and quidditch supplies flew into the other. As soon as everything was packed, he stalked out of the room, and down the stairs. As he entered the kitchen for the last time, he looked out the hole he had made, and saw the family gathered around a corpse. While unrecognizable, the copious amounts of fat that had been drained through the skin, and the drooping flesh that hung from its arms gave insight as to who it was. The icing on the cake was ripper, who, as his name implied, was ripping flesh off of the mass, as the family looked on in horror. Harry smiled, feeling glee that he had defended himself, and walked out of the house, not noticing the faint shimmering that was fading as he walked away.
While not the best place for a wizard to brood over the death of his aunt, the park did have swings. And so, without a care in the world, Harry sat on one of them, and proceeded to swing to his hearts content, his trunks left sitting by the metal bars. As he swung, he contemplated the death, no, the murder that had just taken place. While he knew he should feel remorse, he didn't. If anything, he felt happy. Now that he was free of that women and that family, he could do whatever he wished, or go where he wanted. As he swung, some neighborhood animals came around. Included in this gathering of beasts was a couple cats, two dogs, a snake, and an owl. The owl was no surprise. He had used magic outside of Hogwarts, and he had killed someone. As he pondered, a third dog joined the little party. While much shaggier then the others, this new dog seemed much more intelligent. This dog also was the only one to come straight up to Harry, and sit down right next to the swing. Eventually, Harry grew tired, and stopped swinging. He walked to the curb, and sat down, somehow knowing the dog would follow. As the dog lay down next to him, Harry drew his wand, and just stared, wondering if the ministry would break it for what he had done. Suddenly, the dog bit his hand, forcing him to drop the wand as he grasped at the bite. As he glared at the dog, a bus seemed to appear out of nowhere. As Harry starred at the blue bus before him, a man, no older then 25, stepped off, and read from a ticket.
"Welcome to the knight bus, transportation for stranded-" The man stared at Harry on the ground, nursing his right hand, and at the midnight black dog sitting next to him. "What yous doing on the ground?" Harry just stared back. "I was sitting here, minding my business until this dog bit me, and I dropped my wand." The man just glared. "Fine, does you want to go anywhere? Maybe the cauldron so you have a place to sleep?" Harry pondered this for a moment. "Yeah, the cauldron sounds good." With this decided, the man walked onto the playground, picked up his trunks, and swung them onto the knight bus, pulling Harry on at the last second. Harry stumbled as the man let go, and happened to glance back towards where the dog used to be, and caught sight of a ragged man just before the Knight Bus blasted off into the night.
AN: Here is chapter one. Originally, this was going to be a 3-part narrative, hitting Goblet of Fire through Deathly Hallows. However, much of the AU I wanted to hit would need some back story. So, Now POA is included. Note, the other 3 books have outlines prewritten, and I have been working on them for about a week now. This just came into my head at work today, and I wanted to see where it went. Let me know what you think, and if you think I should just go ahead and start with GOF. As always, please leave a review. I want to know how I am doing, and if you like the story. Otherwise, let me know what is going wrong and I can fix it.
