A/N: Another New Story. Sorry, but I have writers' block in all the other stories I'm writing.
Even before Harry started at Hogwarts, he could cause things to happen, even without a wand. As Harry's magical training progresses, he learns how to use this power better. But is that a good thing?
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, places, names, etc. are not mine, but JK Rowling's, Warner Bros. Inc., Scholastic publishing, and all other affiliates. I claim no credit for them and no copyright infringements are intended.
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Harry lay awake in his bed at Number 4, Privet Drive. Sleep never came easy to him. It hadn't for the past three years. His dreams were plagued with visions of Death and Lord Voldemort ruling the world with no one able to stop him. He saw everyone dear to him die horrible deaths in these nightmares and often went without any sleep at all.
This particular night, Harry stared at his ceiling, thinking of something to pass the six hours left until sunrise. He had finished all of his summer assignments during the first three weeks of his holiday. He had just written to Sirius, his godfather, the night before, and so he was left with the task of entertaining himself by some other means.
He sat up and pulled out his wizard robes. To his dismay, they now seemed quite frayed from last year, but they were still the right size. Several loose strings were hanging off the bottom and cuffs of the sleeves. Harry pulled out a small sewing kit he had gotten on his last trip to Hogsmead to sew a Gryffindor lion onto on of his shirts.
Harry threaded the needle and started expertly pinning up all the unrestrained strings. A sudden tap on his window from an owl delivering a message caused Harry to prick himself sharply and drop his work, then tumble off his bed. Harry cursed under his breath as he opened the window to let the owl in. He directed it to Hedwig's cage for some food and water.
As the owl was replenishing himself, Harry examined his cut, and saw it bleeding, but not too bad. Harry had experienced far worse pain many times in his life, but still, this hurt quite bad. He stared at the tiny gash and, amazingly, it started slowly disappearing.
Harry didn't avert his gaze, in wonderment about this mystery. Soon enough, it was gone completely, with all the traces of blood as well. He traced another of his fingers over the spot where the slit was, and felt no pain.
The owl hooted and Harry tore his gaze away.
"Here," Harry said, untying the letter. "Off you go."
The owl took flight out of the open window and flew off silently into the dark night sky.
Harry sighed. Nothing ever seemed to be normal in his life, not even by a wizard's standards.
*
Harry didn't sleep that night, which wasn't a surprise at all. He'd spent the rest of the night pondering why his wound had suddenly disappeared. After that topic got boring, Harry extracted a notebook from his trunk along with a quill, and wrote everything going through his mind. It had no order and wasn't organized in the least, but it helped. He took up five rolls in total, and came to some new decisions.
He decided he needed to talk to Dumbledore about EVERYTHING. That meant any secrets he had been hiding, everything about what Tom Riddle was like at school, information about every Death-Easter, past or present, and any theories Dumbledore might have. Harry wanted to be prepared if Voldemort ever decided to pull a surprise attack somewhere.
Harry also decided that it was he that would have to end up killing Voldemort in the end. He, after all, had Harry's own blood circulating through his veins. He killed Harry's parents and altogether ruined his life.
There was, of course, the fact that Harry's and Voldemort's wands shared a phoenix feather core from the same phoenix. That made it very difficult to battle him, or to do any damage at all. Harry would have to talk about that with Dumbledore as well.
Now, though, Petunia Dursley forced Harry to cook the family a special breakfast, in honor of Dudley losing two pounds. (Actually, Dudley set the scale back. In reality, he gained ten pounds.) This was a laborious task, considering the size of both Dudley and Uncle Vernon, and the amount that both could eat when allowed it.
Harry had prepared pancakes, bacon, sausage, ham, eggs of three varieties, waffles, and French toast, all in huge quantities. A rumbling in the floor alerted Harry of his relatives' arrival into the kitchen, and he set all the plates on the table, not daring to take anything until they had first picks.
After everyone was seated, Dudley got first picks, then Uncle Vernon. By this time harry was worried there wouldn't be anything left at all for him. He was right. Aunt Petunia took the last "measly scraps," as Uncle Vernon called them, and Harry's plate was left empty.
Harry could feel his anger building in him, and he glared fiercely at everyone. Not a single thank you. Not even a hint of gratefulness in anyone.
"What are you so angry about?" Uncle Vernon asked.
"Oh, I wonder," Harry said sarcastically.
"You, boy, be grateful you have a roof over your head. If it weren't for us, you'd be a bum on the streets, begging for food in shabby clothes."
"Gee, what a difference from here," Harry remarked, sarcastically again.
Uncle Vernon rose swiftly from his seat, and grabbed the collar of Harry's shirt. He held him an inch away from his face, so that Harry got pelted with food particles as his uncle yelled. "You ungrateful little rat! Why, you have no idea the sacrifices this family makes to keep you! We have to clothe you, feed you--"
"What!?" cried Harry. "You've never given me a single new thing in my life! For clothing, you give me Dudley's old rags! As for food, look at my plate! I don't get shit around here!"
"YOU! OUT! NOW!" roared Uncle Vernon. Harry glared at him maliciously. Harry could feel it this time. The magic from somewhere deep inside him was surfacing and he knew something terrible would happen to his uncle.
Harry backed away and couldn't help but smirk as he saw his uncle grasping for the table as he fell to the floor, clutching his stomach in pain. Aunt Petunia screamed and Dudley just stared in horror with his mouth gaping open and food dribbling down his chin.
"What have you done?" Aunt Petunia exclaimed. Harry strolled out of the kitchen and to his bedroom, oddly comfortable. He packed everything into his trunk, except his broomstick, and shrunk it, so that it would be small enough to fit into his pocket. He did the same with Hedwig's empty cage. Out the front door he walked, whistling a tune of the Weird Sisters, ignoring the frantic sobs of his aunt in the next room.
*
Harry mounted the broom and soared into the air as soon as he was in the driveway. He didn't know where he was going, but it felt good to leave that awful, muggle house. He flew for a while, a couple hours at least, thinking about nothing in particular. He thought vaguely of visiting Ron or Hermione, but right now, he needed to land. His butt and back were sore.
He picked a clump of trees to land in, and walked out of it, his broom concealed in his pocket, shrunk like everything else he owned. No one walking on the streets in the small town gave Harry a passing glance. Harry thought it felt good to not be gawked at by everyone.
Harry stepped into a nearby café and sat at the counter. A plump waitress walked to him and asked for his order.
"I'll have a hamburger and some fries, please. And a cola to drink." His food was delivered pretty quickly and Harry ate it fast. He wanted to get back in the air. Harry left the café and went outside after paying. (Luckily, he had some muggle money on him.) He was walking towards the small grove of trees when a large shaggy black dog strolled into his path. Harry froze and so did the dog.
"Suffles?" Harry asked. The dog nodded and motioned for Harry to follow him into the trees. Once there, the resumed the shape of Sirius Black.
"What on Earth are you doing here?" Sirius asked. Harry just looked at him. "Does anyone know you're here? I highly doubt Dumbledore would approve of you wandering about England on your own!" Harry didn't say anything. "Harry, you of all people should realize the danger in it! What if Voldemort or Death-Eaters had caught you? Then where would we be?"
"I'm seventeen, for cripe's sake! I'm fine! And I can take care of myself!" Harry retorted.
"Yes, but still, Harry, they're after you and you don't know where Voldemort's been lately, or where Death-Eaters have been spotted-"
"I would if someone would just tell me!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm not a little kid anymore! I won't be scared if you tell me where Voldemort is, especially since I already KNOW HE'S AFTER ME! God! Why won't anyone tell me anything?"
"Harry-it's not-that's not why- where are you going?" Harry abruptly stood up and stormed of deeper into the trees. "Harry wait!" Sirius called. Harry started sprinting and Sirius changed forms and darted after him. Harry pulled the minute broom out of his back pocket, simply looked hard at it, and it became full size again. Without slowing, he mounted his broom and took off into the afternoon sky.
Sirius slowed to a stop and watched his godson fly away in disbelief. Harry hadn't had a wand, so how did he make his broomstick grow in size?
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A/N2: It's not very long, but I think it's well written. What do you think? Why don't you tell me in a nice *review! * What a good idea!
*In future chapters, if I decide to continue with this, Harry will be caught by Dumbledore and brought to his house, where Harry asks to be told every secret that's been kept from him. Harry returns to Hogwarts and his friends don't like his new attitude.