Chapter 1: Char-Broiled Zoo Animals. Or: Why you REALLY shouldn't piss off Harry Potter.

Like any child, Harry had a sense of curiosity wired into him. Not even the likes of Vernon Dursley could beat him hard enough to destroy it.

So when Dudley and his little friends had decided to watch a movie on the telly during a sleepover, 10 year old Harry had of course paid close attention. Even if he had to hide behind the couch, and sometimes duck around the wall to avoid detection. He knew better than to visibly show interest in something in front of any Dursley, lest they immediately take it away from him.

This movie was called "I spit on your grave". And the gore was exactly something that Dudley and his gang craved.

At first, Harry was horrified by the brutality of the movie. His stomach rolled in disgust as Piers cheered on the men that forced themselves upon the defenseless woman on screen. But soon Harry's horror turned to awe, and respect as the woman nursed herself back to health and began to take bloody revenge upon her rapists and would be murderers. His eyes grew wide, and his lips curled upward in satisfaction as one man was hogtied and helplessly drowned in a bathtub full of lye.

Feeling strangely empowered, Harry silently returned to his cupboard just before the credits began rolling across the screen.

He had learned a valuable lesson that day.

No matter how much someone manages to hurt you, get back up and MAKE THEM PAY!

- SVH -

Months passed, and a very different Harry Potter was introduced to the Wizarding World. Leading up to this day, many hours had been spent at the Little Whinging Public Library reading books such as "The Anarchists Cookbook", and "Revenge, And how to get away with it".

This gave Harry a lot of ideas, and he had the forethought to ask Hagrid a lot of questions.

As Hagrid escorted Harry through Diagon Alley, the young boy quizzed the half giant.

"Do Wizards have public transportation?"

"Are there Wizard Police?"

"Is there something similar to self defense courses?"

"Can you use magic to help construct a building?"

"Can you use magic to demolish a building?"

"Do those demolition spells make cool looking explosions?"

"Do they make bags and trunks that are bigger on the inside and weigh less?"

The questions went on and on, yet Hagrid patiently did his best to answer him and being his trusting naive self, the half giant never suspected that Harry may use this information for anything less than innocent purposes.

Idiot.

Suffice to say, Harry made a lot of purchases that day.

- SVH -

3:00 AM September 1st, 1991.

It was still pitch black, and only a couple of birds had begun to chirp in the distance. The street lamps had cut out hours ago to conserve electricity, thus providing enough cover for Harry to execute his plan.

A recently emptied gas can dropped to the pavement with a dull clunk next to Vernon's precious VolksWagen. Hanging from the car's gas tank was a rubber hose still dripping from a previous siphoning. The young black haired boy picked up the hose and grimaced at the taste of gasoline, but skillfully began the siphoning process for a 4th time that morning.

Gas-can full, Harry carried it back into the house to continue dousing Petunia's perfectly spotless carpet with sadistic satisfaction. She would soon pay for ever smacking him around for vacuuming in the wrong direction.

He walked the can along the walls and up the stairs, gently pouring gasoline in an uninterrupted line until he reached the upstairs landing. Here, he was more liberal, intending to properly soak the carpet of the hallway.

Feeling confident that his relatives were still heavily sedated from the chemicals he had enhanced their dinner and dessert with, he noisily dropped the gas can at the end of the hall where he finished. Trudging back downstairs, he checked his mental checklist to make sure that he had collected all of the items that he valued. Glancing outside, and seeing that his trunk and backpack were indeed still sitting on the front stoop for the 15th time, he wandered back towards the kitchen.

Upon verifying that all of the windows were securely shut, he picked up a heavily modified cooking timer off of the dining room table. It had a large lantern battery duck-taped to the back with several wires dangling about. Once the timer reached zero, it would begin creating a repeating spark until the battery ran out. After setting the timer for 30 minutes and reconnecting a stray wire, he set it down on the stove directly between the burners of the cooktop.

4 quick knob twists later, the burners were releasing natural gas at full strength without a flame. Nodding to himself, he walked back towards the front door passing a side table which laid the batteries from all of the smoke detectors in the house. Rapidly switching his shoes for a clean pair that didn't reek of gasoline, he stepped out of the front entry and closed the door solidly. Harry then slung the backpack over his shoulder, and proceeded to wheel his school trunk down the sidewalk away from #4 Privet Drive for the final time.

As he walked away from his old neighborhood he made an attempt at whistling merrily. After 5 minutes of failing to replicate the tune of the national anthem he shrugged his shoulders and began humming to himself instead.

Pausing at approximately 7 streets away from privet drive to check his wristwatch, he noticed that he had about 5 minutes before the timer was due to go off. Just as he was about to pull out his wand to summon his bus, he flinched violently, as a massive explosion lit up the sky in the distance. Shattering glass and a cacophony of car alarms could be heard going off.

"Bugger…" 'Should have done that synchronizing thing', Harry thought to himself as he flailed his arms to keep himself from tripping over the curb.

BANG!

Harry was promptly knocked forward off of his feet and onto the grass from the abrupt arrival of a purple triple decker bus, which came to a skidding halt in front of him.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus. Emergency Transport for the stranded Witch or Wizard." an odd pimply faced man read from a piece of paper unenthusiastically. "My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor for this evening." placing the paper back in his breast pocket, Stan looked about slightly baffled. "What choo doin' down there?"

"I fell over" Harry replied defensively.

"What choo fell over for?"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Harry was starting to get annoyed.

"Well come on then, let's not wait for the grass to grow!" Stan gestured impatiently towards the bus.

Not having to be told twice, considering that he had just committed an act that some would classify as terrorism. "Sounds good to me!"

After clambering aboard and getting his trunk loaded with Stan's help, he maneuvered around a few beds containing sleeping passengers. Harry's head swiveled about nervously, as he heard the distant sound of sirens.

"Take her away ERN!" stan knocked on the glass behind the driver.

BANG! Harry was thrown backwards onto the bed behind him.

Stan leaned against the wall of the compartment and chewed on his nail. "What choo say your name was?"

"I didn't."

Not bothering to react, Stan continued. "Where abouts you headin'?"

"Kings Cross Station, please." Harry requested with a forced smile.

"Right then." Stan turned around and joined the driver, leaving Harry to flop backwards on the wheeled bed and sigh in relief.

He had finally escaped the hell that was the Dursley home. Never again would he allow anyone to harm him without dire consequences.

Closing his eyes, a toothy grin split his face as a single thought encompassed his thoughts.

I

AM

FREE