Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter franchise. I'm not making any money from this either.


More Than Equal

More Than Equal: Chapter 3

The cruelty of the gods surely knew no bounds, of this Petunia Dursley was sure.

She laid on her back and contemplated the mockery her life had become these past few months.

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Two years prior

Harry Potter had defied her…. It might sound silly to one who wasn't 'in the know' but Harry Potter had never defied his aunt before, in fact, he was terrified of her.

She stared.

Harry Potter had defied her openly, refusing to do as told.

Her face set she stood a bit straighter, her impressive height of 5'11" lending further to her powers of intimidation.

The boy had seemed nervous, unsure of himself, but then something happened; he steeled his nerves and pushed onwards.

''No…''

No?

Surely she had heard wrong, young Harry never told her no; unless it would save him from punishment. 'No I didn't break the plate aunt Petunia.', 'No, I would never disobey you aunt Petunia' all these suited her fine.

This latest no struck her like a physical blow.

She had asked him to tidy the kitchen table.

He had said no.

She had been angry but had also been confused. The request was such a standard one, a simple chore, one that even Dudley was asked to do now and again.

She had wondered for a few seconds what about her request could inspire such a response from her usually timid nephew. As soon as the shock left her and she'd finally processed the fact that she hadn't indeed asked him to kill someone; rather made a simple request that this... this…. lazy cretin had refused, why she became most incensed.

She had grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, not intending to harm him but to remind him of his place. Then he said something else…

Stop

And she had stopped.

Not because she was shocked, and believe me she was. She simply could not move…

She was terrified.

He just stood there, not even removing himself from her grip and just stared at her for what seemed like eternity.

He must have found whatever he had been looking for in her eyes.

Perhaps fear.

Nonetheless he eventually seemed satisfied; he simply smiled and then walked away.

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Harry Potter was angry.

He had been duped. Made to look like a fool.

She truly had no power, He had been afraid of his own power all this time.

He smiled. That is pretty funny he supposed.

He'd have found it ironic if he knew what irony was.

He'd learn.

Anyways…. his aunt hadn't blasted him.

His active imagination thought up all kinds of repercussions had he been wrong; blasts of lightning, a powerful beam of red light shot from her eyes to make him feel pain, anything, even being suspended in midair with her formidable psychic abilities (the cartoons on TV seem to favour that one). What he really, truly didn't expect was nothing.

She didn't do anything.

He'd spent days contemplating what he'd heard. He'd wondered if he heard wrong, if it was just a ruse because they knew he was listening or if his aunt kept her own powers secret even from his uncle.

He'd waited. He didn't want to make it obvious that he'd listened in on them. Besides, he had needed to watch his aunt discreetly for a few days to see if she'd do anything 'special'.

Finally he'd figured she was most probably a pretender, she didn't have any powers.

This did nothing to curb the feeling of butterflies in his stomach days later when he decided to test his luck.

He'd very nearly lost his resolve but pressed on with the knowledge that it was unlikely that his aunt would kill him even if he turned out to be wrong.

He wasn't wrong.

His 'freeze power', as he'd aptly named it, had stopped her dead in her tracks.

Harry Potter had used his power on his aunt successfully…. And she hadn't responded.

All that was left was to see if there'd be any retaliation later that night.



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There wasn't

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Back to present

Petunia Dursley sat in bed reading the day's paper hoping that something, some story in the paper could turn her mind away from it all.

Vernon was sleeping peacefully next to her. He was lucky.

She felt guilt begin to consume her as she gazed upon his form. He'd lost a bit of weight over the years.

It was her fault.

He was her nephew, she was the reason he even came to live with them.

What had become of their family, their dreams?
He was a good man.

She had to look him in the face everyday and she felt guilty.

She was always fascinated by 'magic'. The fact that her sister had this magic as a fluke was always a cause of contention between them. She didn't believe that fate could be so unfair as to bless some with these abilities and not others.
Sisters no less.

When things started to get out of hand with Harry she had decided to indulge her curiosity a bit and search for something that could help her.

It was a waste. Candles, herbs and symbolism did nothing.

Symbolic sacrifice of small animals, words of power, deep meditation, belief…they did nothing.

She had visited with a few who dealt with the supernatural. Vernon could never find out, it was something he would never accept from her.

These people who claimed supernatural connections and powers were frauds. They had nothing on her nephew.

She had seen him do things they couldn't hope to replicate.

Things she had hoped to replicate.

Petunia Dursley sobbed… She sobbed as images of the things she had done came back to her.
Her own blood on the floor in different patterns; runes, pentacles, stars, moon phases and all sorts, books on Druid, Wicca and other things pagan strewn about as she sought to regain some kind of control over her life once more.

She had to do something. The thought that he could harm her or her family on a whim weighing heavily on her soul.

Things had changed.

After the boy had used his power on her he'd changed. He'd already had Vernon cowed and then poor Dudders just came in one afternoon refusing to speak.

She'd wanted to wring young Potter's neck and find out what happened. Faced with those cold greens eyes though, she'd lost her resolve. She knew he did something though.

It was him, it had to be.
Dudders had ignored his cousin from that day forward, a strange enough phenomena in itself.

The boy seemed to harbour a deep hatred of her for months until it seemed like he just 'got over it'.

At least she hoped he'd gotten over it.

He'd asked for a bedroom and he'd gotten one. She knew it wasn't really a request, he'd just take it if she said no. Dudley didn't even complain as his second bedroom was taken.

Things had seemed to go from bad to worse…..then not so bad.

She made the sign of the cross, dried her tears and once again reminded herself that it hadn't been as bad as it could have been, God was still protecting her.

She'd thanked god everyday for the past year that the boy hadn't seen fit to do any further harm her family.

He wasn't a typical bully, she was thankful for that.

He wouldn't actively seek anyone out to torment them.... but his ire was terrible, he was cruel when angered.

Her entire prize garden had just shrivelled and died the last time she'd angered him.

She had been distraught and he'd just smiled at her. A smile that made her thankful he hadn't seen it fit to express his displeasure with violence.

Vernon had gathered his courage one day and insisted that the boy attend Sunday mass with them. He clearly didn't want to go, she pleaded with Vernon that night to leave him alone but he insisted that church would 'help'.

Sunday morning came around and the car rolled back over Vernon's foot breaking it. She'd been horrified and so had Dudley. Dudley had immediately looked to his cousin before turning his gaze away sharply; she followed his gaze and her eyes came to rest upon those cold chips of emerald before she too was forced to look away. She'd called the ambulance and tried her best to comfort her husband.

She'd checked the handbrake and it was still firmly in place.

'I guess we're not going to Sunday mass then' he'd said.

They'd all turned to face him and she could see the horror dawn in Vernon's eyes.

Harry Potter was dangerous.

He was a cold kind of evil she'd thought.

Even now it brought tears to her eyes to even think of her sister's son as 'evil'.

She didn't know what she'd do when his letter came. Hopefully he'd pay even less attention to them; he'd find kinship with his kind and mellow out. Hopefully he'd become more like Lily, less dangerous, until he was 17 and could finally leave.



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~Privet Green, Surrey~

Young Harry Potter was bored. He briefly entertained the idea of going for a run but then discarded it just as quickly. He'd given up on exercise outside of PE class a long time ago.

He just didn't have the need anymore.
He didn't even want to think about that. His days of weakness were less of a shame now that the wound was long healed so to speak but he still didn't like thinking about it.

Physical exercise was unnecessary for one of his power he'd thought. A sentiment he'd soon learn most of his fellow wizards shared.

The sun was shining today; it was oddly beautiful considering it was early March. It looked like spring would come early this year.

Nice.

He could stay outdoors then. He was conscientious about keeping on top of his abilities. The zeal he'd lost for physical exercise had been routed to a new burning desire to make his magic stronger.

He could feel it, it became stronger and easier to use the more he practised it. He was determined to be powerful. Movies with people who had powers appealed to him these days, they gave him ideas.

Making fire was particularly easy for him but its uses were limited. He could make things move with barely a thought; the size of the object usually determined how much effort was need. Lately though he'd found even large objects to be increasingly easier to move.

He'd tried flight but it was not nearly as fluid as on TV. He could levitate himself off the ground but the movement while in the air was awkward and frighteningly clumsy.

He wanted to be able to make storms and rain and lightning but it wouldn't work for some reason. No matter though, he'd get it eventually.

He wished he could make money though… That never really worked out. He could use his powers to steal it from his uncle but he always hated that.

He didn't want to be a thief, it seemed… low… to his sensibilities.

He could really use some ice-cream

'Dammit' he thought. It was so unfair. Any food he made with his power never came out right. And he couldn't make money.

It's a limitation he'd get rid of eventually.

One day he'd be able to do anything.

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~Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland~



Albus Dumbledore was torn.

Harry Potter was proving to be a powerful young lad. The monitors at his house had been detecting Harry's magic use for years. He wasn't entirely sure if all of that magic was accidental but it was Harry's magic nonetheless. From what he'd seen harmless, both he and his family were fine so there was no reason to worry…much.

Albus Dumbledore didn't get to where he was today by being a fool though.
On the contrary, for all his faults he was one of the magical world's greatest minds.

He didn't harbour many illusions about the likelihood of Harry Potter's magic use being intentional; after all, young Tom Riddle had frightening control of his powers from an early age as well.

It was only natural that the one who would one day be his equal would have similar prowess.

It was a good sign though, this magic use.

It seemed as though his family had told him of his heritage. That was good, it was always Dumbledore's intention that Harry Potter know he was a wizard, just not that he was famous. That type of attention would do the boy more harm than good.

As the monitor chimed once more Dumbledore allowed himself a small smile. The boy would be powerful indeed.

Harry Potter, with the right guidance, would no doubt be up to the tasks set before him.

It was simply up to Dumbledore to make sure that he understood the responsible use of his considerable power.

He would also have to make sure Harry Potter didn't have the same thirst for more power that Tom Riddle had.

He would be removing some of the more dangerous books from the library before young Harry started at Hogwarts next year, some of those books contained ideology and magical theory far too tempting for a young wizard powerful enough to actually make some of the magic work.

Afterall, some secrets of magic, quite a few of which he was privy to, were best left secret.

There had been some reports coming in from his people in Algeria; it seemed the wraith formerly known as the Dark Lord Voldemort was seeking out his sustenance in the notoriously dark, magical forest of Alingra.

This was troubling… All manner of Dark beasts and old magic resided in that forest. If Voldemort found anything there he could use….. He didn't want to think about that.

This second war would be a bloody one. Voldemort had already proven himself far more ensconced in the Dark Arts than even Grindlewald; his plethora of otherworldly abilities was telling.

His seemingly masterful control of Fiend fire in their last fight put Dumbledore on edge. Fiend fire was notoriously hard to control even by powerful, experienced wizards. It seemed Voldemort had truly mastered the dark arts beyond any in recent history.

'Perhaps I shouldn't think of such things.'

Albus Dumbledore liked looking toward the future…… though he never forgot the past.

He knew he wasn't likely to survive the next war but as long as young Harry could fulfil his destiny….. he felt he could die happy.

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A/N: Short chapter in comparison to my other story but I felt that I should end this here. I'll be time-skipping; I don't want to go through everyday of Harry's childhood. I don't have the patience for it.

Not the most amazing chapter I've ever written but the next one will be longer by a great deal.

I know some people may take issue with Harry not liking physical exercise but the fact is, it's overdone and pointless. Most people have Harry mega-fit physically, learning karate, kung-fu and jujitsu etc from some dojo around the corner yet when it comes down to it the fights are predominantly magical.

It's like giving him a sword because it seems 'cool' but never having him use it when you realise a sword fight between godlike magicians is stupid.

There are magical rituals that can strengthen a man far beyond what's normal for a human if you want a physically strong Harry.

Another thing people may take issue with is that Harry isn't evil enough. This Harry's not going to be rushing in with cliché speeches like 'Listen here Dursley, things are gonna change around here.'

I thought a different Petunia,Vernon and a more passive Harry would be more interesting.

I'm just saying this stuff so you won't bother complaining in PMs. This story will be different. Harry's character will take a while to fully develop as well.

Nxt update very soon.

Anyways, Cheers

Dumblemort.