Disclaimer: The characters and certain situations in this fic belong solely to the author and manga author of the Harry Potter series and One Piece respectively. And that's my lame attempt at a disclaimer that applies to all chapters in this fic.
A/N: I have read several crossovers where Harry Potter is brought into the world of One Piece, and I'm inspired to write one with certain twists in the plot. Hope you will enjoy this
Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived
Harry Potter, of number four Privet Drive, was proud to say that even under the tyranny of his relatives, the Dursleys, he has never given up hope that one day he will gain his freedom and truly lived, not just surviving on scraps of food like a stray mongrel and working like a slave.
A typical day in this green-eyed, black haired ten-year-old boy's life went like this. First thing in the morning, he would wake up to the screeching of his Aunt Petunia, a thin, blonde middle aged woman with a spindly neck which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences in her not-so-discrete spying on the neighbors.
After a short trip to the loo, Harry would hurry to prepare breakfast for the older hungry whale Uncle Vernon, his son the mini whale Dudley, and the fore-mentioned Giraffe Aunt Petunia. Now, if you are wondering why Vernon and Dudley are likened to that of the bigger marine mammal, a whale, here's a brief description of the two male Dursleys.
Vernon Dursley, the director of a firm that made drills, was a large, beefy man with hardly any neck, and a very large mustache. His son, Dudley, is a smaller version of Vernon, minus the mustache due to his young age of ten-and-a-half, and perhaps a teeny tiny more visible neck.
For the past few years, the two gained their bulk mainly due to the excellent meals prepared by a young budding genius cook, who was forced to be skilled enough so as to avoid the wrath of his relatives should the food not be up to their expectations.
After a thankless breakfast where Harry successfully dodged being brained by his Aunt Petunia with a frying pan, he would get his usual fare of a single slice of toast and a glass of water from the tap. As the sun rose higher, he would gather his ratty duffel bag from the cupboard under the stairs and proceed to the local primary school with his cousin.
In school, it was the normal routine of listening to the teachers drone on about stuff he has already learned from his own reading, and letting his mind wander a little, dreaming of the day he would attain freedom and explore the world. Every recess would be spent running away from Dudley and his gang of bullies, while also secretly practicing his recently discovered ability of teleporting.
One day, many months ago, Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when much to Harry's surprise, one moment he was jumping behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors, and the next he was suddenly sitting on the chimney on one of the school's buildings. At first, Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump, but after this happened a few more times, his overactive imagination whispered that perhaps he had the power of teleporting. Haven't Aunt Petunia been calling him a freak as long as he could remember? She must have suspected that her nephew had some sort of abnormal ability.
A further racking through his memories revealed other strange things that happened around the young Potter. Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already ridiculed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had chopped it off.
Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a disgusting old sweater of Dudley's. The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a Ken doll, but certainly wouldn't fit him. After much pondering, Harry believed that he must be a freak with these abilities, and since he was frequently punished anyway, there certainly would be no harm exploring these strange powers he has.
Thus, everyday, Harry would practice the few abilities he seemed to have – teleporting when Dudley is commencing 'Harry-Hunting', shrinking some of the old, over-sized hand-me-downs from his cousin so that it fits his malnourished frame better, and in the privacy of his cupboard at night, transforming his hair into different lengths and colors.
In between his 'practices', school and the many chores he was dictated to do (cooking, gardening, cleaning, repairing toys that Dudley broke), Harry's days were busy and passed quickly indeed. Soon, Dudley turned eleven years old, and the fateful day where Harry gained his much dreamt about freedom would arrive in an unexpected way.
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The day of Dudley's eleventh birthday started with the usual wake-up-call from Petunia's shrill voice.
"Up! Get up! Now!" Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.
"Get a move on! I want you to start cooking and make sure everything is perfect on Duddy's birthday."
Harry groaned quietly, careful not to let it escape the confines of his cupboard. "Yes, Aunt Petunia." Dudley's birthday – of course it would be today, after Harry had a particularly late night up refining his latest technique of lighting up the dark. He discovered this new ability a few weeks ago when the light bulb blew out and he was desperate and frustrated for some light to do his homework after a long day of chores.
Harry hurried out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a greyish pair filled with holes under his lumpy bed, and after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. He was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.
When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all of Dudley's birthday presents, and Harry wondered how long the new toys would last before his cousin broke them. The spoiled boy never takes care of his things, well, one man's loss is another's gain, for Harry has been secretly smuggling the toys he repaired and selling them for some pocket money. The cash has been most useful in the procurement of new books, which the Dursleys would never in a million years, give to their inquisitive nephew.
Harry, a young curious boy, was interested in all manner of things, but had learned not to ask any questions if he wanted a quiet life with his relatives. Thus he satisfied his inquisitive mind with books, lots of them, over a variety of topics – non-fiction ones such as biology, botany, history, cookbooks and many many more. He also loves reading fictional stories, especially of the fantasy genre, which further fueled his overactive imagination.
When he was younger, he had always wondered about the thin strange scar that resembled the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead. The first question he could ever remember asking Petunia was how he had gotten it.
She had gotten all pale and snapped out, "In the car crash when your parents died, and don't ask questions."
Now any other child would have accepted this answer from their Aunt, but not Harry. With his imagination and newfound abilities, he thought that maybe his parents were freaks too, with abnormal powers like he has. If that's the case, they wouldn't have died so easily from a normal thing like a car crash, would they? This further fueled his dream for freedom, so that he could go out there and search for his parents.
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After a larger and more elaborate breakfast than usual, the telephone rang and Petunia went to answer it while Dudley unwrapped his presents eagerly. He was ripping the paper off a new video game when Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.
Turned out that Mrs. Figgs, an old lady who lived two streets away, broke her leg and was unable to take Harry while the Dursleys go on their family outing. After a short discussion, they decided to take Harry along with them to the zoo. It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. Harry enjoyed the best morning he'd had in a long time, eating in the zoo restaurant and looking at all the animals. He even got to eat an ice-cream that Vernon reluctantly bought for him when the lady selling ice-cream had asked before they could hurry him away.
Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last.
After lunch they went to the reptile house. There were all sorts of snakes and lizards behind the glass where the reptiles were caged. Dudley was knocking on the glass of one the tanks, trying to get a response from the snake inside but it wasn't cooperating at all. Having little patience, if any, the birthday boy lumbered off to the other tanks. Harry moved in front the same tank Dudley had been at and looked intently a Boa Constrictor he could have sworn was winking at him.
Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.
The snake jerked its head toward Vernon and Dudley, and then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:
"I get that all the time."
"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."
As the snake nodded its head vigorously, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. "DAD! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"
Dudley came waddling as fast as he could and punching his cousin in the ribs to get him out of the way. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, he had leapt back with howls of horror.
Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.
As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come... Thanksss, amigo."
The zoo director himself was puzzled over the disappearance of the glass, but he apologized over and over again to the Dursleys. When they all calmed down enough to get back to the car, Dudley started swearing how the snake had tried to squeeze him to death. Worst of all, he looked at Harry and grin maliciously before saying "The freak was talking to it, weren't you?"
Vernon waited till they were back in the house, safely away from prying eyes before starting on Harry. He raised his meaty fists and rained punched down upon the young boy. It was the first time Vernon had gotten so angry and violent towards his nephew.
Much later, Harry lay in his dark cupboard, wishing again that he could escape his relatives and gain freedom from this wretched life. As the blood from his wounds seeped through the floorboards, reaching the mysterious wards in the house erected by the sacrifice of one Lily Potter to protect her beloved son, a bright white light glowed and Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was granted his wish.