SG's Fun-filled and Somewhat Story Related Fact: An adult male manufactures over 100 million sperm cells per day!
Interpretation: There is a 1 in 100 million chance that your father will produce your sperm cell today. If you do not reach an egg within that day, you are promptly reconverted into protein. The chance that "your" sperm could be the first to reach an egg twice is so infinitely small that it is simply easier to round off to 0. Thus, given the short span of human lives, the combinatorial nature of human reproduction, the number of times humans are actually engaged in sexual activity, and genes that recombine and change fluidly, there is logically only ONE moment in the grand scheme of time that you, exactly as you are, could ever be conceived.
Mind-Bottling!
So just to be clear. A female Harry Potter in an HG fic means femmeslash (Slash pairings becoming het, het becoming femmeslash) It will begin as the closest of friends and become something more. I'm pretty open to all ships as long as there's no incest.
About Harry: She was raised the same, treated the same, and had similar experiences to canonHarry. Ask yourself, will she be the same? Maybe.
0000
0000
betad by Baby-Summer-Gurl
0000
0000
Chapter 1: The Zoo
"There was a sound of thunder."
-Ray Bradbudy
0000
0000
It all comes back to a juice box.
0000
0000
THUMP.
She sat upright in bed so quickly, that her habitual ducking motion was forgotten. With a heavy clunk, her forehead slammed against the coat rail that lay two feet above her crib-sized mattress. "Bol… Bollocks," she moaned quietly, rubbing away the tears that welled in the corners of her eyes.
Dudley cackled as soon as he heard the telltale clunk accompanied by her moan. She heard his heavy footfalls clomp down the stairs and into the kitchen where he would consume his morning feast.
Clutching her aching head, Harriet Potter... Harry... sank backwards into her grimy bedding and pulled her knees to her chest.
She glared bitterly at the coat rail as she waited for the stars to clear from her eyes.
Dudley and the coat rail. The coat rail and Dudley. The two were incomplete without the other. And together they were the bane of her existence. There were many banes to her existence in the Dursley household, but Dudley and the coat rail... well, if she were to be found dead one morning in her cupboard, they would surely be the ones to blame. Dudley had taken a serious liking to waking up before she did just so he could creep to the ninth stair from the bottom floor, jump, and crash with all his weight on the fifth.
It was terribly loud, shook the whole house, and made her cupboard creek and groan. Thus, her forehead was intimately acquainted with the coat rail. She knew that one day soon, Whaleboy would leap from that ninth step, crash through the stairs, and break something valuable. Harry would of course be blamed and made to fix everything. Perhaps the coat rail, in a final showing of repentance, would impale her as Dudley fell and thus spare her from her fate.
Brushing a small spider away from her ear, Harry gazed around at her cupboard in the faint light. She had truly loved it when she was younger. It had been her very own special place. It had been her palace tower; her cave of mischief and wonder; her impenetrable fortress against the forces of Dudley.
But... it was so small.
Harry had a feeling that she'd never get very big, but when even she could no longer straighten out as she used to, with Dudley tormenting her every morning, she came to see that this cupboard wasn't a special place at all.
It was where the Dursleys had hidden her; out of sight and out of mind.
She had never questioned before. She had never questioned why Dudley had two large rooms, while she had only sixteen square feet. She had never questioned why Dudley was smothered in hugs, kisses, and comfort, while she had been pushed roughly away every time she had tried to latch onto her aunt's hand. She had never questioned why Uncle Vernon chuckled every time she had burnt her hand on the stove. She had never questioned why Dudley threw bits of pebble at her when she was on the monkey bars at recess, or why he punched anyone that talked to her.
A few years ago, one boy in her class had offered her his juice box, as he had seen that she only had some toast for lunch. Dudley had seen and had dragged the boy out behind the school to 'set him straight.'
Piers had never been kind to her again.
Harry had never questioned why her hurts had gone unhealed; why she had to wear ragged cut-offs of Aunt Petunia's old nighties; why her knickers were done up with safety pins to keep them to her thin waist; why the only family she had didn't… want her.
But now? She knew now. She wasn't theirs. Her parents, according to her Aunt, had been drifters; bums. When they died, drunk in a car crash, her Aunt and Uncle had taken her in, but... she wasn't theirs.
Harry turned and buried her throbbing forehead into the mess of towels and pincushions that she called her pillow. She had been having such a good dream. She tried to remember it fully, desperately clinging to it as her mind became active and ready for the day. There had been a man with a beard who had looked down at her with such warmth. She had tried to grasp his large hand as it tickled her stomach, but found she could not quite hold it. The man had let out a huge laugh and said… well she couldn't remember now. Just like the man's hand, her good dreams were always things she couldn't hold onto.
Harry sighed heavily and sat up, rubbing at her eyes. Opening the grill in her cupboard door, she glanced briefly at the pin-up calendar that hung across the hall.
July 20th.
It took several moments for her sleep ridden mind to realize why that date seemed important.
Oh bloody hell, it's Dudley's-
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DIDDYKIMS!" squealed Aunt Petunia shrilly.
Harry heard several noises that resembled the sound of a suction cup releasing violently; Diddykims' eleven birthday kisses she presumed. Getting up, she pushed open the small wooden door and made her way around and up the stairs to Aunt Petunia's bathroom. She turned on the light and closed the door behind her, preparing to wash up.
Aunt Petunia hated it when Harry used her bath. Ever since she could wash herself alone, she had been made to stand over the sink and use a small spunge to scrub away at her skin. She gazed longingly at the bathtub. Harry had had several opportunities to use it when Aunt Petunia headed out to the market while Dudley and Vernon were waddling around in the backyard, attempting to play sports. Whenever she was lucky enough for this to occur, she would rush up here to the bathroom, lock the door, and run a steaming hot bath. She always had the time of her life; splashing around, making castles from soap, and really washing her hair instead of using a soapy comb.
Without looking at her reflection, Harry scrubbed and dried quickly. Going to the bathroom pantry, she pulled out the one piece of clothing that was hers and fit. It was a simple summer dress; snow white with black, velvety lace around the waist. When Aunt Marge had gotten it for her last year, the first time Harry had ever met her, Uncle Vernon had pulled his sister aside to whisper heatedly in her ear. Harry had only caught a few words along the lines of "give an inch" and "takes a mile." Suffice to say, Marge was especially chilly toward her after the conversation. Thankfully, the Dursleys had let her keep it so as to not insult Marge and Harry had cared for the dress like she would a child. She personally hand-washed it, bleached it, and starched the collar. It was bit itchy at the waist, but... it was hers and it fit.
Looking to the mirror for a quick once-over before she left the bathroom, Harry froze in her tracks.
OH NO!
She ran to the mirror and leaned onto the sink, running a hand through her long, black locks in disbelief.
My hair... it grew back! Aunt Petunia... She's... She's going to kill me!
Her aunt had just yesterday cut Harry's hair into a bob that didn't even fall below her chin. Harry had absolutely hated it; it made her hair stick up all over the place. At least when it was long it attempted to lay flat... well... flattish.
Maybe if I tie it back she won't notice.
She attempted to lift it into a messy bun, but several shorter strands fell into her face and over her eyes. No matter what Harry did, she couldn't get them to stay up.
Giving up the futile battle, she sighed resignedly and left the bathroom.
Bring on the punishment. I bet I'll have to weed her weedless garden.
Groaning, Harry marched back downstairs and into the kitchen. The mound of presents in front of her reached all the way to the ceiling. Dudley sat next to it, his blubber falling over the edges of his chair. Already, her cousin had unwrapped roller skates, video games, a bicycle, a computer, squirt guns, cap guns, and every other thing a boy of eleven could possibly want... and he wasn't even halfway through the pile.
As Uncle Vernon pranced around nearby with a camera, Harry stealthily crept to the stove to put on the Kippurs and eggs. Thankfully, Aunt Petunia was much too occupied fussing over Dudley to notice the state of her hair.
"So, Dudders, where would you like to go today?" asked Uncle Vernon jauntily as he danced about, clicking the camera furiously.
Dudley thought... and it looked like he was in pain as he did so. "The Zoo! I want to see whales!"
Harry smirked at the bacon.
You don't need to go to the Zoo for that, Diddykims.
Her uncle clapped Dudley loudly on the back and chortled, "The Zoo it is. Why don't you call up Piers and Malcolm and see if they want to join us?"
Harry grimaced as Dudley waddled over to the phone.
Piers and Malcolm; Dudley's lackeys. Malcolm was the brawn; dumb as a stump... but he was even larger than Dudley. He would grab her hair and arms as Dudley hit her. Piers was the brains; what he lacked in size he made up for with his sharp tongue. Ever since the 'Juice Box Incident,' he had followed Dudley around like a lapdog, partially out of fear, but mostly because he had few friends. Piers would taunt her, Malcolm would hold her, and Dudley would hit her. If bullying was a sport, they would surely be on the English Olympic team.
"Malcolm says he's right sick, but Piers will come." Dudley sat back down and started shoveling his eggs into his mouth as quickly as a human being possibly could; eggs that Harry had just taken off the stove. The satisfying squeal when they burned his tongue made her grin.
"I can't take her today, Vernon," said Aunt Petunia, nodding vaguely in Harry's direction. "I'm going to Garden Club and I absolutely won't have her and her... unnaturalness-"
Harry missed this next bit because her thoughts were whirling.
Good. I don't want to be there. Bunch of gossipy ladies talking about everything except gardening. At least I can play with Mrs. Figg's cats today.
Even though Mrs. Figg was a barmy old woman, she did have a multitude of cats, whose company Harry had come to love. She loved anything that would sit still long enough to let her hold it... or at least not run from her in fear like her schoolmates.
"Ah well, I'll call up Figg then."
Uncle Vernon moved to the phone, but Petunia stopped him short. "Arabella is in the hospital, Vernon. Poor dear tripped on a cat and fell down the stairs."
Damn. Well, I hope she's alright. Bet it was Snowball.
"Well... what about your friend?" asked Uncle Vernon slowly, sporting the same pained expression Dudley adopted whenever he used his brain. "Yvonne?"
Petunia shook her head. "No... No, she's in Majorca for the holiday."
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia shared a look and then glanced at Harry. Petunia spluttered in anger at the sight of her hair, but said nothing in the tense silence. Dudley suddenly stopped shoveling Kippurs into his mouth and looked up at his mother pleadingly. Both he and Harry spoke as one.
"I don't want her to go!" Dudley whined.
"I don't want to go!" exclaimed Harry vehemently.
I hate Piers.
Uncle Vernon glared at her before turning to his son. "Dudley, we can't leave her alone in the house. If you're a good boy and don't make a fuss, I'll buy you two more presents while we're out!"
Dudley, after considering this, looked up at his father and said, "Three."
And so, an hour later, after receiving a sound warning from Uncle Vernon to 'not ruin the day for Dudley with any of her mischief,' Harry found herself standing in a cool, underground room, surrounded on all sides by glass tanks full of water, glaring longingly at Piers and her cousin as they demolished a pair of extravagant ice-cream sundaes.
In an effort to not appear stingy in front of Mr. Polkiss, Uncle Vernon had bought Harry a cheap lemon pop.
She was, of course, allergic to lemons.
When Harry could take no more of the torture, she sauntered off to observe the tanks.
As she leaned against the glass wall, a large dolphin sailed right behind her head. Upon closer inspection, Harry realized that the tanks were full of them. They were so beautiful. Round and round in circles they swam. It was mesmerizing. They seemed so carefree.
Dudley and Piers, having finished their snack, began to run from tank to tank, making faces at the dolphins, banging on the glass, and just being generally obnoxious. Despite the many angry murmurs from the other guests, Uncle Vernon and Mr. Polkiss paid their sons no attention as they sat talking about drills.
Ignoring it all, Harry closed her eyes and pictured herself swimming with the majestic creatures. She envied them. Although they were captives, she was positive that the dolphins didn't have coat rails to dodge when they woke up every morning.
"Budge over!" cried a familiar voice in her ear.
Harry felt an elbow slam into her ribs. She fell, glasses flying from her face, and skidded across the rough carpet.
When she came to a halt, she slowly pushed herself to her knees and glared defiantly at the blurry forms of Dudley and his blonde lackey, daring them to get close enough to kick. "What was that for, Dudley? I wasn't doing anything to you! L-Look what you did!"
Harry's arm sported a bloodied raspberry.
Without supplying an answer, Dudley quickly ran off, cackling at her misfortune.
Tearing a little at both the stinging sensation and the sight of blood dripping onto her bright, white dress, she got up. She was about to chase her cousin down to knee him in the bits as hard as she could, when Piers held out his hand.
To Harry's astonishment, clasped in the boy's fingers... were her glasses. He had picked them up and surprisingly, had yet to crush them. It looked like he wanted to do… or say… something, but he merely stared at her, blue eyes glued to her own.
The silence between them began to stretch.
Realizing the awkwardness of this particular situation, Harry tentatively took her glasses, shoved them roughly back onto her nose, muttered a polite, "Th-Thank you," and cast her gaze to the floor, her hair falling out of her bun as she did so.
Piers grinned nervously and shuffled his feet. "You're... You're welcome... Harry."
Her eyes widened.
Not Hairy Harry? Or Potty?
She hadn't heard him say her name with kindness in years... not since...
After seemingly having tired from taunting the dolphin he had been chasing all over the room, Dudley made his return. He had apparently missed the entire exchange. Her cousin threw an arm around Piers' shoulder and said cruelly, "That's what you get for getting in my way, orphan. Right, Piers?"
At Dudley's words, Piers' familiar, taunting smirk slid back onto his face. The blonde boy laughed heartlessly and turned his back on her.
Harry went very cold. She realized, quite suddenly, that she had to get out of this room; had to be somewhere... anywhere... that Piers wasn't.
Now.
She ran for the exit.
"GIRL! GET BACK HERE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, but Harry was already flying out the door. She ran to the next building over, wrenched open the door, and careened inside.
I hate Piers.
Down the hall she sprinted, turning whenever she could. She must've passed at least a hundred glass tanks before finally slowing to sit and catch her breath.
I hate Piers. I HATE him.
Harry leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, enjoying the brief respite she had from her cousin and his friend. It was wonderfully cool in this building as well; almost dank. She distinctly heard a soft, tinkling humming all around her. It sounded very much like elevator music and for whatever reason, Harry found it extremely soothing.
They must be playing it on the stereo.
After her breathing had slowed to its normal pace, Harry slowly pushed herself to her feet and peered into the nearest tank. It resembled a flourishing jungle setting. With her nose pressed against the warm glass, she searched for the animal it held... but, unsurprisingly, it eluded her.
"Yeah," she muttered under her breath. "I'd hide too if I was on display all day."
Dudley and Piers came around the corner and shouted when they saw her. Uncle Vernon was right behind them, wheezing slightly. He said nothing in the presence of so many onlookers, but his purple face, along with the death glare he was sending her, promised an extremely long stay in the cupboard... without meals.
Harry glared fiercely at Dudley and Piers as they banged on the seemingly empty tank. "Stop it, you stupid buggers! How would you like it if you were the one in the tank?"
They both flipped her the bird before running off to find something more interesting to taunt. Turning back to the jungle tank, Harry was surprised to find two large eyes, not four inches away from her face, staring right back at her through the glass.
It was a snake; a threatening, black, extraordinarily large snake.
Its eyes bored into her, drawing her closer.
And then... it winked.
Harry started in surprise and quickly cast her gaze around the hallway to see if anyone was watching.
They weren't.
She looked back at the snake and winked, too.
The snake jerked its head towards Dudley and Piers, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly: "I get that all the time."
"I know," she murmured through the glass, though she wasn't sure the snake could hear her. "It must be really annoying."
Her eyes widened as the snake nodded vigorously.
"So... where do you come from?" she asked slowly, not quite believing that she was actually having a conversation with an animal.
The snake jabbed its tail at the wall beside the glass. There were a few signs of varying sizes. One read: Boa Constrictor, Hog Island, while another read: Boa Imperator, Peru.
The largest sign, which happened to be the one the snake was pointing at, read: Boa Constrictor, Brazil.
Harry sighed longingly. "I bet it was really nice there, yeah?"
The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and she read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo.
"Oh, I see... so you've never been to Brazil?"
As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout from behind Harry that could have only been Piers, made the both of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"
Dudley came waddling towards them as fast as he could. "Out of the way, you," he said, elbowing her yet again in her already elbowed ribs.
Harry flew sideways and slammed into the wall.
What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened; one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.
She sat up and gasped; the glass in front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out and on to the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exists.
As the boa slid swiftly past her, Harry could have sworn a low hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come… Thankss, Chica."
The keeper of the reptile house was in shock as he examined the tank. "But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"
By the time they were all back in the car, Dudley was telling them how the snake had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down long enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"
The car went silent. Uncle Vernon stared back at her through the rear view mirror, a look of suspicion and growing anger on his face. Piers leaned over to her and said quietly, "You were talking to it, weren't you? I saw you."
Harry offered no reply.
"Harry?"
Rolling her eyes, she turned and was met by his startlingly bright blue gaze. "What?"
"Did you make the glass vanish?" asked Piers tentatively.
Wondering that herself, Harry shrugged and whispered, "So what if I did?"
Piers gulped nervously. "Do you… Do you maybe want to come over sometime… and you… you could teach me how?"
Harry thought about this. She thought about Piers; thought about how nice it was when he offered her his juice box; thought about the look he gave her this afternoon when she lost her glasses; thought about the kindness she had seen in his twinkling blue eyes; thought about his cold smirk whenever Dudley appeared; thought about his taunts; thought about every horrible thing he had ever said to her. Piers had been so cruel. He had participated avidly in Dudley's 'Harry Hunting' game, even if it had been out of fear.
Peering into his eyes, she shook her head… no.
Piers' face fell. He seemed hurt... deeply. Somewhere in those blue eyes, a tiny light flicked out.
Harry instantly wanted to change her mind, but before she could find the right words to say, Piers spoke, his voice laced with venom. "Fine. Be a freaky little orphan on your own."
Harry closed her mouth and let her loose strands of hair fall into her eyes. For the first time, after all this time, she knew without a doubt that Piers Polkiss had meant that one. Leaning her head against the window, she listened to the motor whir as they drove on through the city.
Uncle Vernon had waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting in on her. He was so angry he could barely speak. He managed five words, "Go... cupboard... stay... no meals," before he collapsed into a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run to get him a rather generous glass of Brandy.
0000
0000
0000
0000
Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.
Review! Feedback is wonderful even though I update regardless.
Stay Tuned. Next chapter in a day or two. I do read reviews and get around to answering them. Tell me what you think of the chapter and the fanart.