Chapter One: The Consequences.

The Dursley family were proud of their normality, and made their distaste of anything against their standard very clear. From foreigners to the couple at number eight who's sense of fashion was just simply revolting, they didn't discriminate, ironically. As such, Mr Dursley was quite pleased with his normal job as a director of a firm called Grunnings, with a perfectly normal stay-at-home wife and a darling of a son. They would be quite happy if their repetitious life continued as so without anything abnormal getting involved.

And this was the crux of the matter of why they utterly despised their nephew, Harry Potter. For Harry was not a normal child in any sense of the word. His black hair refused to be tamed in any respectable manner, often pointing in various angles that simply defied gravity and products alike. Brilliant lantern eyes that were just such an unnatural shade of vivid green. But his wild looks were not his most freakish feature, no. Harry Potter had magic.

The very thing that could not be rationalised, nor understood by the Dursleys. It terrified them. But of course, men weren't supposed to be frightened of brats, Vernon Dursley reasoned. So he treated the boy like dirt on his shining shoes, and his wife Petunia and son Dudley followed by example.

Harry simply didn't understand why he was treated so. Why did Dudley get a bedroom, and he got a cupboard? Why was it his aunt and uncle get twitchy whenever something related to magic or fantasy is mentioned? It wasn't fair. For as long as he can remember he was sneered at, disregarded, and hated by his 'family'. Whenever he said something that could be interpreted as backtalk or cheek no matter how ludicrous the reasoning was, he would be punished. Yet Dudley could demand why, scream no at the top of his voice and throw temper tantrums without so much as a sharp word. He hated it.

And so, when he was blamed for turning his teacher's hair blue, somehow, he had enough. He'd already been blamed for something he couldn't explain, when he got stuck on the school roof after being chased by Dudley and his gang.

"I will not tolerate your nonsense, boy! Your freakishness has gone too far!" Vernon roared, spit flying in the face of an seven year old Harry Potter in the hallway of Number Four. "Now, you will apologise to-"

Then, Harry did something he had never done before, because he feared the consequences. He interrupted his uncle.

"No."

Dudley, who was giggling from the top of the stairs, stopped, mouth gaping. Petunia, while preparing to start frying the bacon for Dudleys' after-school lunch, dropped the raw meat on the immaculate kitchen tile.

"I-You...What?!" Vernon spluttered.

"No." Harry repeated, firmly. "My 'freakishness' hasn' gone too far, 'cause I don't know what it is." It wasn't fair, so he wasn't going to let up until he knew why he was getting punished for something he didn't do!

Vernon was simply overwhelmed. First he was being talked back to, and second, well... How could he answer that question?!

"It doesn't matter-" He started, only to be interrupted yet again.

"Yes it does." Harry said angrily. "'Cause I'm always getting blamed for stuff I didn't do an' I wanna know why!"

They glared at each other, short bespectacled seven year old against the fully grown walrus, until Petunia broke the silence.

"Come here boy." Aunt Petunia snapped from the kitchen.

Glancing down the hallway, before looking back to his uncle, he only went when a purple faced Vernon managed a jerky nod.

"Since we obviously can't get rid of it, goodness knows how we tried, we might as well tell him, Vernon." His aunt said, once she was seated at the table, fists clenched on top of the surface. "He just keeps doing it!"

Harry hesitantly took a seat, while Vernon stood at the doorway.

"Your mother could do those freaky things too. And your good-for-nothing father. It's where you got it. We tried to stamp it out of you, we swore we would, but it hasn't worked. I hate it."

"What is it?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Magic." Aunt Petunia hissed, as if it was a particularly uncouth curse word.

Wait, if they could explain what was happening, then...

"You knew?!" Harry yelled. "You knew why my hair grew back so fast, how I got on the roof, how her hair turned-"

"Yes of course we knew." Aunt Petunia sneered. "You're just as strange after all, just as, as abnormal as her. Lily got to go with that beastly boy to that castle and learn-"

"Learn? There's others?!"

So it wasn't just him or his family?!

"Yes of course there are. You'll get a letter at eleven like perfect Lily did." His aunt glared. Then, she smiled. Not a pleasant one, however.

"Now you know why we hate you. You're a freak, you keep making those impossible things happen, it's just not normal!"

"Well it's not my fault! I didn't want to be chased by Dudley, I wasn't a cheater like she called me!"

"Liar!"

"Am NOT!"

The half full glass of cola on the table smashed, it's contents splashing everywhere.

Petunia shrieked, pushing back from the table to shield herself while Vernon bellowed, diving behind the doorway.

Harry, meanwhile, sat still, transfixed.

"You see what I mean! You're a FREAK!" His aunt screamed, pointing towards the shattered remains.

"But...why did it happen?" Harry asked timidly.

"I don't know! She could always do all sorts of things, like that blooming flower, just wanting it to happen she forced it to-"

Not a moment later, the shards of glass slowly started floating, before piecing themselves back together. Soon, the glass was whole, although without the liquid content, and nary a crack or chip visible.

Aunt Petunia watched open mouthed, while Vernon gazed worriedly.

"I just wanted it to happen." Harry said weakly. "An' it just did." A beat after, he yawned.

Petunia looked at him closely, muttering to herself.

"Boy, get to your cupboard, NOW." Vernon growled. "No meals-"

"Hush, Vernon."Petunia said softly. "I have an idea on how to fix our, freaky problem."

Harry watched curiously behind half lidded eyes, not really paying attention as Aunt Petunia went back to muttering to herself. He felt really sleepy.

"Here is what we are going to do." She announced. "You're going to get Dudley's second bedroom. We will sort it over the weekend. You'll keep doing your, your magic before bed EVERY day. If you don't, it's back to the cupboard. Do we have a deal?"

Harry couldn't nod faster.

"Good. Now you can make a start with Dudley on sorting what stays and what goes. Run along now."

Harry raced out of the room, excited at the prospect of his own bedroom.

Once they heard the heavy steps reach the second bedroom, Vernon finally spoke.

"What was all that about Petunia?!"

"Don't you see, Vernon! He's done three freaky things today, and look how tired he got!"

"So?"

"So," Petunia started, "it means that doing it gets their kind tired. Lily was the same! It must be like electricity in a battery, if he does it every night, we don't have to see or hear about it! He'll be too used up to make freaky things happen during school if he's letting some of it out! When he gets bratty, he won't have the energy to do it! He'll act like a normal person!"

"I suppose that is good." Vernon said begrudgingly, shuddering at memories of the tantrums the freak had when younger. He felt phantom pain in his knee from when it was broken. "But why the bedroom?"

"His kind will come knocking sometime." She snorted dismissively. "It's best if it looks like we've treated him like a normal person all along. Heaven knows how they expected us to have treated him so though, they gave no help whatsoever! And no taking meals off him!"

"Why not?" Vernon spluttered.

"Because if he goes hungry, he'll probably do freaky things to get food. Or, oh I don't know, maybe his freakishness gets strange, and it starts doing things itself?"

Vernon paled at the thought. No, it was better if the boy could reign it in.

"Right you are Tuney."

"I suppose I'll have to talk to the boy about how they died too, so he knows for when they come. Explain why we got landed with him, I suppose."

Harry meanwhile, was sorting through various bits of broken toys upstairs, and was very excited. He was getting his own room, maybe even his own things, and he wouldn't get blamed for the magical things happening 'cause he knew how to make it do what he wanted! Sure it made him sleepy, but like what Miss Fern always sang (rather annoyingly though) when they were doing spelling, practice makes perfect! He couldn't help but giggle at the thought. Practice makes perfect with 'spelling'! It was all happening because he stood up for himself! Maybe, just maybe, when he shows that he can be helpful by fixing stuff with magic they'd finally care about him!