Disclaimer: I do not own even the tiniest piece of Harry Potter or the world in which he lives. I do own the particular sequence of words herein, so if you want to use them please ask.
Once I have a few chapters I will make this a podfic but right now am not looking at doing it. If anyone would like to help me read through these to check for mistakes before they are posted, please let me know :)
00000000
Harry woke with a start from a dream about flying motorcycles. Someone was tapping at his door. "Come in." He called, putting on his glasses. His mum nudged her way into the room, carrying a tray. His dad followed closely behind, carrying a large wrapped box. "Happy birthday Harry!" They smiled. His mum put the tray on his bedside table, loaded with plates of breakfast and mugs of tea. Harry scooted upright so they could both sit, beaming at them. "Good morning!"
His dad placed the box on the bed in front of him. He stepped back, smoothing his large mustache like he always did when he was nervous. "I know we usually get you a few presents, but this is a bit bigger than normal, and, well, we'll make it up to you today. Go on, open it."
Harry smiled at his dad and tore open the paper. Inside was an IBM computer. His jaw dropped open and he looked at his dad with wide eyes. "You're not making fun of me, are you dad?" His dad shuffled a bit, and his mum piped up "No Harrykins, we thought you might like one of your own." Harry scrambled off the bed and hugged his dad fiercely, before turning and launching himself at his mum on the bed. "It must have cost you guys a bag or two, I can't believe this!"
His mum sniffed and tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear. "Put it down for a minute and we'll eat breakfast, you can set it up later." "Okay mum." Harry picked up the box with some effort and placed it on the ground by his bed. He then sat back down and handed around plates before tucking in. "This is great mum, thanks." He was done in record time and immediately pounced on the box by his bed. His dad chortled into his mug of tea as Harry unpacked everything and started moving it to his desk. "I suppose I shouldn't have been worried whether you would like it. What would you like to do today?"
"Could we go to the zoo?" Harry asked, looking up from the manual he was reading. "Of course we can, my boy." Vernon chuckled. "11 years old and still wants to see the animals." "Don't listen to him, Harry dear." Petunia said. "He likes the zoo just as much, he gets to visit his gorilla cousins."
"Oi," Vernon laughed. "You can talk, Ms. Giraffe neck!" Harry rolled his eyes as his parents collapsed in a heap on his bed, laughing at each other. Honestly, sometimes he felt like the adult in the house.
The zoo was just as exciting as always. They all got ice-creams at the entrance and wandered around enjoying the cool treats and looking at the animals. Once they finished, they headed into the cooler rooms of the reptile house.
Almost immediately, Harry caught sight of a blond boy tapping on the glass of one of the enclosures. He walked over. "Stop that, Piers," he said. "It upsets the animals, and you don't want an angry snake on your hands." Piers sneered and turned to him. "What are you going to do about it, Dursley?" Harry turned away to find a zookeeper, and Piers shoved him into the glass. But suddenly, the glass wasn't there! Harry fell with a thud into the enclosure, his glasses tumbling into his lap. He picked them up and placed them back on the bridge of his nose just in time to catch the advance of the enclosure's inhabitant: a large, brown snake. Harry pushed himself back and tried to get to his feet. "S-stop!" He shouted, using the bar to pull himself upright. He turned, and saw that the snake had stopped and was looking at him oddly. "Go- go away?" Harry stammered, unsure what the result would be. The snake turned and made its way further back into the enclosure.
Harry clambered over the bar and out of the enclosure. Piers was standing there, looking like he had seen a ghost. His parents were there too, his mum reaching out to him but looking just as horrified as Piers. His dad was pale behind his mustache as they hurried back to the car. The ride home was silent once Harry accepted that his questions about what was wrong would go unanswered.
Once safely in the house and dry, Harry's parents sat him down in the lounge with a cup of tea, looking like they had something difficult to say. "Harry," his mum started. "You have to know that we love you, and we always will." Harry nodded, nervous. "Harry, darling, we had hoped this would never happen, but, you seem to have magic." Harry laughed nervously. "Magic?" He asked. "Where would I have gotten magic?"
His dad cleared his throat. "Er, from your parents." "My parents?" Harry asked. "But you're my parents." His mum patted his knee. "We'll always be your mum and dad sweetie, but we're your aunt and uncle. Your mother was my sister. She and her husband died when you were very little. They had magic too." Harry stood up, slopping tea on himself, and walked into the kitchen. His dad followed. "We had a little boy who was about the same age. They died so close together and we thought-"
Harry exploded. "You thought what? That you could keep this from me? That you could lie to me and pretend to love me? I saw how you reacted today. You hate magic, don't you? You must hate me too, now."
His mum tried to hug him but Harry pushed past him and raced to his room. He threw himself down on his bed and tried not to cry. He had always wondered why he looked different to his parents, why he wasn't blond. But he had always figured it was one of those things, like brown haired parents having blond kids. When his parents looked at him, did they see him, or his dead cousin? And this magic, too. He didn't want it. He saw the way Piers and his parents looked at him when he did that magic by accident before. He didn't want to be a freak. He would learn to control it and hide it away. He moved to his desk and stared at a pencil, willing it to move. Nothing happened. He kept trying, trying to feel his magic, to know the enemy.
Harry jerked awake and checked his watch. 2am. He still hadn't managed to move the pencil. He wondered, how had he done magic before? He had been afraid of hitting the glass, of being attacked by the snake. He could remember a hated teacher at school suddenly sporting blue hair, and a game of hide and seek where he found himself on the roof of the school. He supposed then that his magic only came out in the face of strong emotion. He would have to learn to control his emotions if he wanted his magic to stay hidden.
With this resolution made, he went to sleep.
His dad had already gone to work by the time he went downstairs the next morning, and his mum was in the garden. Harry made himself a cup of tea and went out to her. "Mum," he called. "Do you want a cup of tea?" Petunia looked up from her gardening, then took off her gloves and stood up. "That would be lovely; I'll be in in a minute."
Harry made her a cup of tea and sat down in the lounge to wait. After a few minutes his mum came in and sat on one of the chairs, sipping her tea. He put down his half-finished cup and looked at her. "Mum," He started, hesitantly. "I've decided that I'm not going to be magic anymore." His mum looked at him, surprised. "Don't say anything." He spoke in a rush. "I saw the way you and Dad looked at me when I did magic. I didn't ask to be this way and I don't want to be. I think I've figured out how to control it and it will take time but I know I can do it." He breathed out, glad to have said what he needed to. His mum looked at him in shock and put her tea down on the coffee table. She stood and Harry thought she was going to leave the room without saying a word. Instead she pulled him into a rare hug. Normally he would be the one to initiate contact and he always felt that his parents were less than comfortable with it. Now he realised that was probably because they were afraid of his magic and what he might do accidentally. It stung, but made his resolution to control his magic that much stronger.
"My baby, I am so proud of you. This is a difficult choice to make and I don't know what I would have done if you had gone away to that awful magical school like my sister and come back freakish like her." She pulled away and Harry realised his mum had been crying as she held him. "I must call Vernon and tell him the good news." Harry watched her walk toward the wall phone and dial his dad's office number. He was glad he had decided to suppress his magic, his parents were obviously terrified of losing another son.
A week after Harry first learned about his magic, a letter arrived on thick parchment, addressed in green ink to Mr. H. Potter, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Harry scoffed, they couldn't even get his name right. He turned it over and saw that the send address was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He scoffed again and tossed the letter into the garbage. Figures that wizards wouldn't check the facts before sending it out, he supposed his name must have been Potter before he came to live with his parents. Not only did they not seem to have checked his records before sending him letters, but he would have thought that at least someone would come to explain about magic before asking him to leave his family. Well, they could very well get along without him.
He was due to start at Smeltings, and carry the Dursley name into the annals of the school with pride. His training was coming along very nicely, and while he didn't quite trust himself to test it in real situations just yet he was sure he would be ready by the time school started. His parents were hesitant to enter his room while he practiced his control and he didn't blame them. He had broken a lamp the first day and left a dent in the wall with his shoe the second. After that he moved all fragile objects to the spare room and secured anything dangerous. Today however, he felt ready to start moving things back in. If he proved to himself that the thought of neither Piers Polkiss and his stupid taunts nor burning to death could break his control, he felt he would be ready to test his skills in the real world.
Two hours later, a flushed and happy Harry Dursley entered the lounge. His mum looked up from icing a cake and seemed concerned. She bustled over and put a cool hand on his forehead. "Are you feeling alright dear? You're very red."
Harry smiled at her. "I'm more than alright mum. I think I've learned to control my magic." Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "I'll get it." He said, and walked to see who had come to visit. He assumed by the cake that it was one of his mum's friends over for a good gossip. He opened the door and was surprised to see a tall woman in a severe tweed suit and a tight bun. "Hello." She stated. "I am looking for a Mr. Harry Potter."
Harry shut the door in her face. She must be a witch, nobody called him Potter until he received that letter. He walked quickly back to the kitchen, flush fading fast from his face. "Who was that?" His mum asked, not looking up from her cake. When he didn't respond she looked up and saw his pallor. "It's one of them isn't it?" Harry nodded. His mum put down her piping bag, brushed her hands on her apron and set it on the bench. She bustled down the hallway and opened the door to a somewhat bemused and matronly figure.
"You must be Mrs. Dursley. May I come in?" She asked, though it was obvious that she did not expect to be denied entry. Petunia sniffed. "You may not." She said frostily. The older woman balked and tried again. "I am looking for Harry Potter. I represent a school for-" "I know very well who you represent." Petunia bit out. "Freaks, the lot of you. There is no Harry Potter here. Only Harry Dursley, who will not be going anywhere with the likes of you." And with that she closed the door in the face of a very flustered McGonagall. The woman stalked away, muttering things about "the worst kind of muggles" under her breath.
Petunia entered the kitchen with her lips pressed into a firm line and hard eyes. "Harry" She said, steel in her voice. "Get packed. We're going away."
00000000
Second chapter up! I am a bad, bad author. I took way too long on this chapter because happy is too hard to write. Dark!Dumbles writes himself however, so after the Christmas break the new chapter should hopefully be up soon. A posting schedule of once a month seems to be a good way to make sure I write but don't fall behind.
Let me know if this is far too difficult for you, because I can always post in 'snippet' amounts on AO3 if you are willing to accept irregular posting and irregular lengths (e.g 70% of this was done in 1 day (today) and the rest dripped in in paragraphs - too annoying for me to read, maybe less for you).
Also, be prepared for a long haul my friends, because I plan on doing at least until book 4, but hopefully book 7 and beyond.