***JKR is a god in her own right. Don't sue me. I'm just a kid from
Glasgow, Montana. Go Fighting Scotties!
HARRY POTTER AND THE MYTH OF THE SILVERSTAR
Chapter One
Harry Potter was no ordinary boy. His sinister Aunt and Uncle were all too aware of that. They made his life an absolutely miserable experience for almost the first decade of his life. Sometimes, he wanted to get back at them over the pain and suffering the Dursley's had caused him, heaven knew he had the ability to inflict everything they'd poured on him and more right back at them. Harry decided to play things the safe way. Besides, if he did decide to torture them in the same ways that they had metaphorically raped him, he was secretly afraid that he would enjoy it. That prospect scared the socks off of him.
It was two weeks until he was able to escape from hell and go back to the only place he knew of where someone possessing his quirks would accept him. The magical world of humanity was a swirling ribbon, which wound through the global population almost completely unknown. Wizards knew of other wizards of course, but it was a Muggle far and few between that had any clue whatsoever about the unexplained phenomenon that seemed to plague life from time to time. While the Muggles looked for the Loch Ness Monster, People like Harry and his kind liked to hide in the shadows and laugh at the silly dolts who believed that a real live creature was out in those waters.
Harry was in his bedroom, looking out the window hoping that his best friends from school were sending him a message, but the sky was depressingly clear, especially for England. He wanted to see an owl, any owl, coming toward him. Even his own beloved Hedwig was not with him, since she had not returned from her outing the night before. "Ron, Hermione, somebody. . .."He muttered to himself.
This had been a particularly dull summer. Following the events of the previous school year, two months with the Dursly's was less stimulating than an evening out to watch the neighbor's new paint dry. Hopefully, this school year, there would be nothing rivaling the Tri-wizard tournament. Just once in his school career, he would have liked to have nine months of normalcy (normalcy in Wizarding terms.)
The sound of light footsteps met Harry's ears. His horrible Aunt Petunia was on her way up to yell at him about something. He hoped he could get out of this tirade by merely having to spend the rest of the day out in the front yard clipping the hedges. He figured he might even luck out and get the opportunity to trip up his great hulking sod of a cousin on all of the leafy debris. Watching ol "Dudders" stumble and fall on his puggy nosed face would at least be a change in the perpetual doldrums.
"You'd better get down in the yard." Petunia whined through the door. No doubt she was attempting to listen in and see if he was up to no good. "Vernon's going to want that hedges done. Preferably before he gets home from work. . . Especially if you think you need to eat tonight."
It was a good thing there was a closed door between Harry and his Aunt. For as long as he had been with the Dursleys, Petunia had used food as a way of trying to completely control Harry's actions. Unfortunately for Harry, her deplorable ways had worked to some extent. It hadn't been until just after his eleventh birthday, and he'd been at school for a few months, that he'd started to fill out his elbows and knees body a bit. All truth be known, Harry could very well have starved to death as a small child. It was only the stigma of having a ward under her care parishing, that kept Vernon and Petunia from neglecting their nephew to the point of murdering him.
Harry trudged down the stairs and went out into the yard so he could get a start on his chores. He noted to himself that the Dursley's house was in a bit poorer condition that he remembered it being when he was growing up there. He guessed that was what happened when the family slave was liberated. He picked up the hedge clippers and began to start on his chore for the evening. When he'd been at it for just a few minutes, he heard a screech that sounded something like a human come from the hedge.
"Bloody Hell! Harry! You nearly took my head off with that one!"
Harry dropped the hedge clippers. "Ron?" He questioned. "Is that you?" All of the sudden, he felt awfully silly talking to a bush.
"No, it's the Queen Mum!" The bush responded.
Harry pushed his glasses up a bit father up his nose. Even after four years of exposure to the ways of the magical world, there were times when he was just flat out confused. "What are you doing--"
"Well, well--If it isn't my Cousin. The Freak!"
Harry's blood turned to sludge. It just had to be Dudly.
Dudley Dursley was a hulking mass of human flesh. At the age of fifteen, he tipped the scales at a whopping 290 pounds. He was lucky that he could still breathe well enough to walk on his own. Even though he was stupid and too fat to be very quick, it didn't stop him from being one of the meanest creatures Harry had ever dealt with in his entire life. Even Draco Malfoy was capable of some altruistic actions, even if they did directly benefit himself more than anyone else.
"Talkin' to the bush are ya? Wha-? No human is willin' to even look you in the eye because you're such a ruddy freak?" Dudley took a swat at Harry. If any curious neighbor had been watching, it would have looked like a friendly clap on the back. To Harry, it was like being hit with a warm side of beef. "It must be a real pain, and I mean a real pain, to know that you've got no friends--But then nevermind, that would require you to have had friends in the first place so that you'd know what you were missing!"
Dudley was dragging one of his beer swilling, rugby playing, hooligan buddies over for supper that evening. Harry had to deal with none other than Piers Polkiss standing right in his face. "Your hair looks like ass Potter." In typical Piers and style, the wooly thug hauled off and hit him as hard as he could in the stomach.
Piers and Dudley laughed until tears came to the corners of their eyes. They kept laughing all the way into the house. Harry, on the other hand coughed until he nearly fell over in the grass. Oh, if he'd had his wand handy. . . .
"Those wretched bastards!" Ron said.
Harry looked up to see his lanky friend standing above him, hedge clippers in hand. "Oh, Ron."
"If it wouldn't scare the crap out of them and get you in a world of trouble, I'd stomp in there and give them a piece of my mind." Ron was angry to the point that his ears were about the color of his hair.
Hair. . . .
Once Harry was able to breathe again, he stood--And started to laugh. "You're right. I nearly did take off your head."
Ron looked confused for a moment and patted the top of his head to discover that a good deal of his hair was missing. "Bloody--"
"Bald may be a good look for you." Harry stole a quick glance at the house to make sure that his Aunt wasn't spying on him. "Ron. What are you doing here?"
HARRY POTTER AND THE MYTH OF THE SILVERSTAR
Chapter One
Harry Potter was no ordinary boy. His sinister Aunt and Uncle were all too aware of that. They made his life an absolutely miserable experience for almost the first decade of his life. Sometimes, he wanted to get back at them over the pain and suffering the Dursley's had caused him, heaven knew he had the ability to inflict everything they'd poured on him and more right back at them. Harry decided to play things the safe way. Besides, if he did decide to torture them in the same ways that they had metaphorically raped him, he was secretly afraid that he would enjoy it. That prospect scared the socks off of him.
It was two weeks until he was able to escape from hell and go back to the only place he knew of where someone possessing his quirks would accept him. The magical world of humanity was a swirling ribbon, which wound through the global population almost completely unknown. Wizards knew of other wizards of course, but it was a Muggle far and few between that had any clue whatsoever about the unexplained phenomenon that seemed to plague life from time to time. While the Muggles looked for the Loch Ness Monster, People like Harry and his kind liked to hide in the shadows and laugh at the silly dolts who believed that a real live creature was out in those waters.
Harry was in his bedroom, looking out the window hoping that his best friends from school were sending him a message, but the sky was depressingly clear, especially for England. He wanted to see an owl, any owl, coming toward him. Even his own beloved Hedwig was not with him, since she had not returned from her outing the night before. "Ron, Hermione, somebody. . .."He muttered to himself.
This had been a particularly dull summer. Following the events of the previous school year, two months with the Dursly's was less stimulating than an evening out to watch the neighbor's new paint dry. Hopefully, this school year, there would be nothing rivaling the Tri-wizard tournament. Just once in his school career, he would have liked to have nine months of normalcy (normalcy in Wizarding terms.)
The sound of light footsteps met Harry's ears. His horrible Aunt Petunia was on her way up to yell at him about something. He hoped he could get out of this tirade by merely having to spend the rest of the day out in the front yard clipping the hedges. He figured he might even luck out and get the opportunity to trip up his great hulking sod of a cousin on all of the leafy debris. Watching ol "Dudders" stumble and fall on his puggy nosed face would at least be a change in the perpetual doldrums.
"You'd better get down in the yard." Petunia whined through the door. No doubt she was attempting to listen in and see if he was up to no good. "Vernon's going to want that hedges done. Preferably before he gets home from work. . . Especially if you think you need to eat tonight."
It was a good thing there was a closed door between Harry and his Aunt. For as long as he had been with the Dursleys, Petunia had used food as a way of trying to completely control Harry's actions. Unfortunately for Harry, her deplorable ways had worked to some extent. It hadn't been until just after his eleventh birthday, and he'd been at school for a few months, that he'd started to fill out his elbows and knees body a bit. All truth be known, Harry could very well have starved to death as a small child. It was only the stigma of having a ward under her care parishing, that kept Vernon and Petunia from neglecting their nephew to the point of murdering him.
Harry trudged down the stairs and went out into the yard so he could get a start on his chores. He noted to himself that the Dursley's house was in a bit poorer condition that he remembered it being when he was growing up there. He guessed that was what happened when the family slave was liberated. He picked up the hedge clippers and began to start on his chore for the evening. When he'd been at it for just a few minutes, he heard a screech that sounded something like a human come from the hedge.
"Bloody Hell! Harry! You nearly took my head off with that one!"
Harry dropped the hedge clippers. "Ron?" He questioned. "Is that you?" All of the sudden, he felt awfully silly talking to a bush.
"No, it's the Queen Mum!" The bush responded.
Harry pushed his glasses up a bit father up his nose. Even after four years of exposure to the ways of the magical world, there were times when he was just flat out confused. "What are you doing--"
"Well, well--If it isn't my Cousin. The Freak!"
Harry's blood turned to sludge. It just had to be Dudly.
Dudley Dursley was a hulking mass of human flesh. At the age of fifteen, he tipped the scales at a whopping 290 pounds. He was lucky that he could still breathe well enough to walk on his own. Even though he was stupid and too fat to be very quick, it didn't stop him from being one of the meanest creatures Harry had ever dealt with in his entire life. Even Draco Malfoy was capable of some altruistic actions, even if they did directly benefit himself more than anyone else.
"Talkin' to the bush are ya? Wha-? No human is willin' to even look you in the eye because you're such a ruddy freak?" Dudley took a swat at Harry. If any curious neighbor had been watching, it would have looked like a friendly clap on the back. To Harry, it was like being hit with a warm side of beef. "It must be a real pain, and I mean a real pain, to know that you've got no friends--But then nevermind, that would require you to have had friends in the first place so that you'd know what you were missing!"
Dudley was dragging one of his beer swilling, rugby playing, hooligan buddies over for supper that evening. Harry had to deal with none other than Piers Polkiss standing right in his face. "Your hair looks like ass Potter." In typical Piers and style, the wooly thug hauled off and hit him as hard as he could in the stomach.
Piers and Dudley laughed until tears came to the corners of their eyes. They kept laughing all the way into the house. Harry, on the other hand coughed until he nearly fell over in the grass. Oh, if he'd had his wand handy. . . .
"Those wretched bastards!" Ron said.
Harry looked up to see his lanky friend standing above him, hedge clippers in hand. "Oh, Ron."
"If it wouldn't scare the crap out of them and get you in a world of trouble, I'd stomp in there and give them a piece of my mind." Ron was angry to the point that his ears were about the color of his hair.
Hair. . . .
Once Harry was able to breathe again, he stood--And started to laugh. "You're right. I nearly did take off your head."
Ron looked confused for a moment and patted the top of his head to discover that a good deal of his hair was missing. "Bloody--"
"Bald may be a good look for you." Harry stole a quick glance at the house to make sure that his Aunt wasn't spying on him. "Ron. What are you doing here?"