Summary: Harry's life sucks, but at least it's simple. Go to school, fight Dudley's gang for some pocket change, lose to Dudley, respawn in his bed. Everything's simple until a massive but friendly man named Hagrid cruises though his dreams on a flying motorcycle and looks shocked to see him. "Yer a wizard, Harry." But the path of magic doesn't have a red carpet. He'll have to fight his way through Voldemort's seven evil plots in order to have the life he wants. Can Harry beat up the bad guys and survive a year without losing his precious little life – permanently?
Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, possession of JK Rowling that it is, nor Scott Pilgrim, which is owned by Brian Lee O'Malley. But the plot bunny wouldn't let me go.
"Again, Potter?"
Harry Potter grunted, not dignifying Dudley's lackey with a response other than putting his fists up.
Piers Polkiss shook his head with a huge grin. "Never learn, do you? Fine by us. Get him, boys."
Harry kept his grin strictly internal as the nameless mooks that appeared whenever Dudley wanted something done started to rush him. This would have been a lot harder if they ever varied from a one-every-five-seconds rush. He ducked under a fist and struck the grunt in the stomach, causing him to vanish in a puff of smoke. He tackled the next into the oncoming third, defeating them both, and took the fourth out with a clumsy sweep-kick from his position on the ground while he regained his feet. The next one fell victim to a headbutt and an elbow to the throat felled the next. A straightforward punch to the face of the next led to the satisfying crunch that indicated he'd broken the grunt's nose before he vanished, and number eight and nine had their heads slammed together with a loud crack. Harry managed to get around behind the tenth and took him out of the game with a chop to the back of his neck.
Harry panted slightly as he faced Dudley and Piers, the leader of the gang and his right hand. He knew from past experience that Piers was tough but not unbeatable, but Dudley was faster and stronger than he had any right to be. Certainly the fat tub of lard wasn't nearly that fast when trying to chase Harry down, rather than letting his cousin come to him.
Piers Polkiss stepped forward. "I'm going to enjoy beating you down again, Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes, careful to only do so while he was still facing the ground as he caught his breath. No need to antagonize Piers beyond what he'd already done. "I beat you the last three times, Polkiss."
"Yeah, Potty, but you still haven't beaten Big D, have you?"
Harry ground his teeth in frustration. It was true, he hadn't. Not for lack of trying, however.
"Bring it on, Polkiss."
The larger boy took his challenge and stepped forward, initiating the battle. Harry immediately charged, launching a lightning-fast punch combo at Piers' head. Piers moved to dodge back but was blocked by the area boundary, so he threw himself to the side at the last second, meaning Harry only hit him in the shoulder and not nearly as much as he'd intended. Displaying agility that someone of his bulk shouldn't have been capable of, Piers caught himself mid-fall with one hand and kicked at Harry from his half-fallen position before pushing himself back to his feet. Harry aborted his lunge in order to duck under the kick, rolling forward towards Piers as the wind from the passing foot ruffled his hair.
"You hit like a girl, Potter!" Piers jeered, swinging wildly as Harry came up inside his range.
"Oh yeah?" Harry responded as he twitched his head out of the other boy's path. "Then let's both be girls!"
This declaration was followed up by a punishing kick with all the force Harry could put behind it to Piers' groin. Piers whimpered, hands going instinctively to cover his crotch as he curled up in a fetal position. He rocked on the floor for a bit as Harry stepped up to him.
"Say goodnight, Polkiss."
WHAM!
Harry turned away from the poof of smoke that marked where Piers had been as he shook his hand to limber it up. "So, Dudders, you going to dirty your hands at last?"
Dudley smirked at his cousin as he stepped forward. "You're never going to learn, are you? You can't beat me."
"That's what Piers used to say, and now look at him."
Harry kept his guard up. As soon as Dudley initiated the fight, he repeated the tactic that he'd tried against Piers, a lightning-fast punch combo. Dudley stepped forwards, and-
COUNTER! REVERSAL!
-Harry was on the ground, seeing stars.
"Dammit!"
Harry Potter. Age 10. Dudley's Punching Bag. Rating: E for Everyone.
"Any last words, freak?"
Dudley Dursley. Age 10. Optional Boss. Rating: F. It's on his report card.
Harry glared up at his cousin from where he lay on the ground, prone. "Bastard."
The last thing he saw was Dudley's piggy face smirking at him as his side exploded in pain from the kick and everything went black.
HARRY POTTER'S PRECIOUS LITTLE LIFE
INSERT COIN
PRESS START TO CONTINUE
CHAPTER ONE
"Urrrgh."
Harry sat up in his bed. It sucked having to respawn when he lost the boss fight, but at least he only dropped half the money he'd picked up from Dudley's lackeys. That left him with enough to buy himself some food to supplement the meagre offerings his relatives gave him after they finished with their own meals. Speaking of which…
Harry reached into his tatty backpack and grabbed an apple. He chomped on it casually as he leaned back in his bed as he waited for his Aunt to call him to come make dinner as usual. It really sucked having to deal with the Dursleys, but it wasn't like he had a choice. They were apparently his only living relatives after his parents had died in a car crash of some sort, which didn't make a lot of sense really. Uncle Vernon always complained about the driving minigame, but no one ever really died in minigames, did they? Still, no one questioned it, so he figured it must have been a scripted death. Sucked to be him, really.
"Get out here and start dinner, boy!"
Harry finished his apple and tossed it aside, sitting up with a sigh. Apparently Uncle Vernon was hungry.
"Coming."
Harry pushed himself off the bed and stepped out of the cupboard under the stairs where he slept, heading into the kitchen to make dinner for his relatives. It wouldn't do to annoy them too much the day before Dudley's birthday. It was bad enough to get beaten up by Dudley when he voluntarily ran the gauntlet, it was a lot worse if Harry made his relatives annoyed enough for them to set him on Harry to try out his new accessories.
It was hot. Harry was thirsty. The desert stretched out before him, endless in all directions. He'd just finished off the last of his water moments ago and there was no chance of getting more. He was lost and had no idea where to go.
"Oh, god, I'm so… so alone."
All of a sudden, he felt like it wasn't worth standing anymore. Harry fell to his knees, then dropped his face onto his arms which lay on the desert sand.
"Oh god…"
He stayed like that for a short while, until a loud rumble from the distance caught his attention. As it grew louder, he sat up and stared at the motorcycle racing through the sand – no. It was flying above the sand. On top of it sat the largest man Harry had ever seen in his life. The man was about to fly by when he glanced down and did a visible doubletake, then turned his flying motorcycle around and landed nearby. "Harry? Harry Potter? I 'aven't seen you since you were a baby! I 'ad no idea that this path went through your dreams…"
Harry went to speak when he was suddenly pulled into a bearhug, the giant man's coat muffling his voice neatly. He was deposited back on the sand shortly afterward and the man smiled broadly at him. "Name's Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. You'll know all about that o'course. I can't stop and chat, got an errand to run, but I expect you'll be seeing me again soon."
Harry was left blinking, mouth hanging open, as Hagrid got back on his motorcycle and started it. "And yer not alone, yer just having a dream."
The motorcycle roared and lifted off, taking Hagrid with it. As they faded into the distance, Harry could only think to stutter out, "I'm… dreaming?"
He sat up in bed to banging on the cupboard door. Blinking, he muttered, "What the hell?"
Still, his relatives weren't going to wait for him to figure out an answer to that question, so he shoved it to the back of his mind. Time to cook Dudley's precious birthday breakfast.
