Harry Potter Starts A Race War

Chapter 1: Harry Potter's First Cleansing

The idea of promoting one's race isn't necessarily a bad thing; more often then not the act has been highly misunderstood. See, there's nothing wrong with being proud of who you are. Think if it as, well, promoting your self-esteem. Our society has a nasty knack for misconstruing confidence for arrogance; accusing someone of putting themselves on a high pedestal whenever they stand up for themselves. When you think about it, you're not actually obligated to mingle with others. Some people simply prefer to stick with their own kind… Who happen to share the same…qualities… as themselves.

However, we as a society has subscribed to the idea that "racism" is and should be regarded as wrong; it's what holds society together and keeps it from collapsing into absolute anarchy. See? United under a single banner. Nowadays, muggles cannot hold down a job if someone has accused them of being a "racist". Most of the time, there is not a single shred of evidence that proves an act of racism actually occurred; it boils down to one giant "he-said-she-said" argument. If everyone were to sit down and listen to all sides of the story, we wouldn't struggle with the socio-economic issues we have today. Not to mention most stereotypes have a speck of truth to them, so is it really racist to dislike a quality of someone who just so happens to be of a different ethnicity?

Hermione and Ron's mouths collapsed further to the floor as Harry continued explaining his newest philosophical insight late at night by the fireplace in the Gryffindore common room. Hermione wore a look of absolute repugnance while Ron's head was tilted nonchalantly, lost in morbid curiosity.

"Mate…" Ron coughed, after an awkward pause, "Where did all of this come from?"

"Something Uncle Vernon was explaining while watching tele," Harry responded, as if this were obvious.

Ron retracted his head. "Blimey Harry! Since when did you listen to that old git?"

"I don't!" Harry quickly replied, "I just happened to catch it while I was doing uhh.. Reconnaissance!"

Harry still struggled with the idea of explaining to his best friends how he spent his summer under a window hopelessly awaiting news for signs of Voldemort's return. He was still angry at the lack of response from anyone, despite how Ron and Hermione made it expressively clear that Dumbledore ordered the two to keep limited contact with him. Even though he knew it wasn't their fault, and they were just following orders, he felt they didn't fully comprehend his sense of abandonment. He wanted them to feel guilty. He wanted them to know what he had to endure by himself. On the other hand, explaining that you spent your summer lying in the garden is still a tad bit embarrassing, especially if you're the famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the one who defeated the Dark Lord at the tender age of 15 months.

"Harry," Hermione started, finally regaining her composure, "You don't actually… Believe… In that sort of.. stuff, do you?"

"It helped with getting rid of the Dursley's." Harry responded with a shrug.

"What!" Ron and Hermione both gasped. Ron leaned closer with anticipation while Hermione started nervously rolling her finger through her bangs.

"Oh yeah, funny story. Won't be seeing those guys again."

A very devilish smile spread across Harry's face. The movement of his forehead slightly parted his hair, revealing his scar. The look ran a shudder through Hermione's neck, as if the air suddenly turned pale.

"Harry, what happened? And why didn't you mention this earlier at… You know, the house?!" Hermione asked quietly, not wanting to bring attention to the fact the three of them spent the night at a wanted man's house.

"Well first off, I'm still rather angry at the two of you for your lack of correspondence," Harry started. "I mean since when did you have any regard for the rules or doing what you're told – Not a word, Hermione!"

That question was obviously directed at Ron, for Harry was swift to nip whatever Hermione had to say in the bud by slicing the air with his index finger and shoving it to her lips.

"But Dumbledore said-"

"Dumbledore said this; Dumbledore said that! Dumbledore also said Snape's to be trusted!"

"Look, we still don't know what he's planning, but surely he knows what he's doing! We had to trust him!" Hermione butted in with her unwantedness, as per the usual norm.

"Hermione…" Harry took a deep breath, as if to willingly choose his words carefully like he would for someone he viewed as an equal. "Did Dumbledore know what he was doing when hiring a Defense against the Dark Arts teacher? Like, ever? Need I remind you that four out of four times Hogwarts has been put into danger, and it almost always lead back to the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"Not true! Professor Lupin-

"Had to resign because he was a werewolf. And don't get me wrong, the guy was brilliant; however, he did forget to take his medicine during a very crucial time! Hermione, he knows when the full moon is. How the bloody hell do you forget to take the one antidote in existence during the one time you knew you needed to take it? How does something like that slip your mind?! I'd be living with my Godfather now if he had only remembered to take his pills!"

Ron tilted his head again. "What's a pill?"

"Shut. Up. Ron."

Silence.

"Anyways, Dumbledore, our famed hero and genius who swears up and down Hogwarts is the safest place on Earth, literally hired the Dark Lord. Dumbledore, the most brilliant wizard there ever was, got fooled by the Polyjuice potion. Forgive me if my faith in him has dwindled slightly."

Hermione shook her head. "Dumbledore also prevented you from getting expelled, remember? Dementors? Using magic?"

"Dumbledore also hired a con artist and a squib to watch over me."

"Oh come off it, Harry!" Ron, feeling perturbed at being ignored, finally stepped in. "Okay we get it! Mistakes were made! Can you two just stop for a second, I want to hear what happened to that uncle of yours! What do you mean you got rid of the Dursleys?!"

The air once again thinned as the evil smile returned to Harry. Ron could have sworn he saw a thundercloud outside one the windows.

"Oh yes, the Dursleys…" Harry coughed, trying not to snicker too hard. "Well for one, Uncle Vernon held a rather poisonous stance on equality and classism. Ron, since you're not well educated on muggle systems of government I'll simplify things. In England, there's a huge canyon separating the classes. You've got the rich, the poor, and not much of a middle class. Sort of how your family lives in destitute while that rat face Malfoy loves flashing his galleons around like an American at a whore house – Not a word, Hermione!"

The air was once again split in half by a swift index finger to Hermione's lips.

"That being said, the Dursleys are rather well off. Not exactly loaded, but that pig of a cousin eats well… Too well… And on top of that, dear Uncle Vernon has maliciously instilled an overdeveloped sense of pride in that worthless son of his. Furthermore, on the topic of class, he's convinced the lug that they are superior to most of the world. Now take this mindset, and quantify it by Dudley's weight, and you have the Dursleys in a nutshell, as well as my ticket out of that household once and for all."

"I'm not following," Ron replied.

Hermione had a sudden epiphany. Knowing where this was leading to, she groaned. Harry, feeling proud of his adopted sister's functioning brain, chuckled before continuing.

"So one day while Uncle Vernon was watching tele, he began offering his unwanted opinions on people and their place in the world. And I thought to myself, 'well that's not something you should be instilling on a child' when it suddenly hit me! England has this thing called the NSPCC!"

Harry could tell Hermione really didn't like where this was going.

"Oh Harry, you didn't!" She groaned.

"Ohhhh I did."

"What is NPSC or NSPCS or whatever?" Ron asked inquisitively.

Hermione instinctively lifted her hand, ready to answer the question when Harry grabbed it and gently held it down.

"NSPCC, Ron, and I'm glad you asked. It's the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. It's a charity service in the United Kingdom dedicated to assisting with matters of child protection and deals with abuse. Basically, if you or someone you know is being abused by their parents or guardians, you can report it to them and they'll step in and get the authorities involved. So one night, after Uncle Ham and the Aunt Horse's usual discussion about my place in the world, I snuck off and got in contact with them. It wasn't hard, I just had to find one of those billboards with a phone number, and give 'em a ring. After arranging a meeting with an agent, I began telling them about how they were molesting me. They had been doing it for all my life. I told them how they fed me only crackers and grapefruits, while my poor, dear cousin ate cookies, cakes, and wasn't given proper nutrition. I feared for my life, see? I told them how they made me sleep in a cupboard full of poisonous spiders all of my life, and the only reason I got my own room now was because one of the neighbors asked about why they never saw the light on in my room."

Hermione's face went pale. She looked horrified at what she was hearing. "Harry!" She nearly shouted. "Molesting you?!"

"Mentally abusing me too. They had me believe my parents abandoned me, that they died in a car crash. I mean there was never a car registered to their name, so I was eventually bound to ask questions. They had me convinced that my parents never loved me, and they took me in by the kindness of their own heart. It's called Stockholm Syndrome, Hermione."

"I know what that is, but you lied to social workers to get your aunt and uncle in trouble!"

Harry chuckled. "Oh I didn't exactly 'lie', I merely exaggerated the truth… Well yeah, I lied. But ohhh man did they buy it. One look at my scar and they were calling the police."

As Harry continued his story, his voice grew darker, and his face twisted into something sinister. "It gets better. I told them how they were telling everyone I was attending St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurable Criminal Boys, and yet if you check the registry, my name's not even in the system. Sure enough, they did a bit of snooping around and found that everything I was telling them checks out. It was all working nice and well, but the icing on the cake was the scar." Harry put extra emphasis on the last word.

"The scar?" Ron asked, his voice shaking. At this point, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to know what Harry would tell him next.

"Oh yes!" Harry's voice grew even more excited. "Wanna know how I got this scar? Well it's shaped like a lightning bolt because Uncle Vernon wanted to play Wizards And Wardrobes with me. That's what he called that sadistic game… He would dress me up in wizarding clothes bought at some costume shop. It came with books, a wand, everything. So he would make me dress up and say 'I'm a wizard, show me that gizzard!' And one day, I didn't want to do it. So he got real angry with me. Aunt Petunia shouted at me, told me to play along, but I didn't want to anymore. So Uncle Vernon got a kitchen knife, and he heated it up on the stove, right? He had Dudley and Aunt Petunia hold me down… I screamed the entire time. I said, 'no Uncle, I'll do it! I'll do it!' But it was too late. He stuck it to my forehead, and told me I would pay dearly for my disobedience…. By the time I finished testifying, the poor lady was in tears. I think I sold the story too well because that night, the police had both Vernon and Petunia in shackles. Nearly knocked Aunt Petunia's head clean off while shoving her in the back of the police car. Dudley was in tears. They didn't know what to do with him. Sent him to the hospital because they feared for his weight. I think he has diabetes or something. Don't know; don't care. They said they'll have him moved to a foster home until he's an adult. Unfortunately, since his parent's accounts were frozen pending the investigation, he can no longer afford to attend that prep school of his. Not like he was going to amount to anything. Just another shit stain of society, if you ask me."

There was a very long silence once Harry finished his story. Hermione looked like she was going to be sick. Ron, on the other hand, was completely wide-eyed and lost for words. The only thing that could come out, after nearly five minutes, was…

"Fuckin' hell, Harry!"

"RONALD! LANGUAGE!" Hermione nearly shouted. She turned to Harry, completely red in the face. "Oh Harry, how could you!"

"I know. Brilliant, right?"

"Brilliant?! Harry, your aunt and uncle are going to get locked up! Don't you realize what you've done?! You tore their family apart!"

"Yeah. And?"

"Harry! It doesn't matter how much they tormented you growing up, what you did was wrong! Even if they were mean to you, they're still your family! I… I can't believe you!"

Hermione found herself completely at a loss for words. Harry, feeling very little remorse for what he had done (quite proud, actually) turned to Ron. "You good, mate?"

"Good? Blimey, I'm fine, Harry. Are you good?" Ron finally answered. "Also, how did you get away if they sent your cousin away?"

"I told them I had a guardian who could take care of me. They tried to give me a ride, but I gave them the slip. Ran in to Mad-eye on the way. That's how I got to the house, by the way. Promised to keep that whole affair secret. Speaking of secrets, Dumbledore was rather displeased with me, since now he has to go out of his way to find a place for me to live, as if your parents haven't adopted me already. See? I was supposed to keep all of this a secret, but I told you, Ron. That's what friends do. They don't keep secrets from each other. See how this works? This is called friendship. Ron? Hermione? What have you learned?"

The two turned to the other to exchange looks. Ron was giving Hermione that "You're the smart one, what do I tell him?" look while Hermione gave Ron the "you are better at talking to him, you figure it out!" look. Their mental conversation didn't last long when Harry stood up, stretching is arms.

"You know, I feel great! Like I really, really accomplished something. Yeah, I feel extraordinary! I think this year will be better. I know the past four years have been a little rough, but I feel this year will be different."

"Your mental, you know that?" Ron muttered. "What about… You-Know-Who?"

"Oh yeah, the Dark Lord returned, but everyone seems fine ignoring it. Obviously, they're in complete denial, but I'm sure that'll sort itself out. In the meantime, if they're not going to care, then neither shall I." Harry looked down at his two best friends with a warm smile. "Anyways, it looks like we've got a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Can't wait to see what kind of fuckup she turns out to be. Anyone who wears that much pink is bound to be a complete and utter twat. Ten sickles says she and Filch will be shagging by the end of the month."

"Harry, I.." Hermione realized immediately something changed in Harry. His smile used to be warm and comforting, but now it was cold and sinister. She didn't know how to handle this newfound revelation. It felt like Harry realized he had discovered a very dark power, and was prepared to use it for his own gain. As scary as it was, she also felt comforted by the fact that whatever Harry was scheming, she and Ron would be shielded under the umbrella Harry would cast over them.

So…" Ron started, finally finding his voice, "What do you plan to do? Harry?"

"Hmm…" Harry started rubbing his chin. After a moment's pause he snapped his fingers. "I think I'll start a race war. Hogwarts could use a little cleansing!"

And with that, Harry cantered off to bed. "Night!"

Thus, Ron and Hermione sat silently that night by the fireplace in the Gryffindore common room, not sure what to say. Finally, Ron once again found his voice.

"Well the Sorting Hat did say he would do well in Slytherin."