A/N: I don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter 1: The Magician

The Dursleys were a normal family. They lived in a perfectly normal house, with a perfectly normal (if not slightly above average!) lawn, on a perfectly normal street, in a perfectly normal neighborhood, and had one, perfectly normal son. Yes, the Dursleys were a very normal family, thank you very much. Some might even call them aggressively normal. They were the kind of people who would do anything and everything to "Keep up with the Joneses" (quite literally, as the Joneses lived just up the way) and stamp out anything that wasn't "normal". So, it was no surprise that when their nephew decided to take up performing magic tricks, that they took some immediate measures. You see, magic is not, so to speak, normal. Well, that is say, at least to any other muggle—that is, normal—family it might be considered to be well within the realms of normal, but knowing just what the boy's parents were, and just what he would surely become, if left unchecked, Vernon and Petunia Dursley could not in good conscience allow such eccentricity to take root in their household.

And so, when a seven-year-old Harry Potter came home one day from St. Grogory's Primary School, innocently asking his aunt and uncle if they would like to see a magic trick, they knew they had to immediately shut it down.

"Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, come see this nice piece of magic we learned at assembly!"

For a moment all was still. Both Petunia and Vernon's faces were frozen with eyes wide, Vernon's cheeks rapidly reddening, even as Petunias became white and whiter still.

"Boy!" Vernon roared, face flushed red with anger,"We will not have such freakishness in this house!"

Vernon ripped away the brandished "magic wand" from little Harry's grasp, before snapping the cheap, black plastic over his knee, shattering it, suddenly releasing the spring-loaded streamers from inside, which intended to be released when the white cap on one end was removed, instead sprung out into Vernon's face. If possible, Vernon's face got even redder, not quite purple. With one great, meaty fist he grabbed the front of Harry's uniform, which was now dotted tears, and shoved him roughly into the broom cupboard, locking it behind him.

"What the devil are they teaching at that ruddy school!" Vernon huffed to Petunia as he brushed the stray streamers from his person.

Their son, Dudley, too came home brandishing an identical black magic wand, which was likewise promptly confiscated and thrown in the rubbish bin, much to his vocal displeasure.

But as many parents have learned throughout all of human history, when you deny something to a child, it only makes them want it all the more.

It wasn't fair! The plump boy huffed to himself as he stomped up the stairs to his room. What's so wrong with a little magic? For the very first time, Dudley had actually paid attention in assembly when the magician had gone up the stage and pulled a rabbit out of a hat. Right from the start, Dudley could hardly look away. Okay, well only after stuffing ice down Davies' pants. In Dudley's defense, his knee had felt better after being sent to the nurse's office the period before and he had to put the ice pack somewhere. Plus, it was funny! Almost as fun as Harry Hunting with Piers and the rest of the gang. But when the magician on the stage started sawing his classmates in half and making Ms. Smith cluck like a chicken, Dudley could do nothing else but sit there, open-mouthed, gaping in wonder. It was simply…well, magical! When he got home from school earlier that day, he was very much looking forward to messing around with the wand and shooting streamers in Harry's stupid face. But he never got the chance. Before he knew it, Mum and Dad had banned magic for life! "Freakishness", they had called it. But Marvin the Magnificent hadn't seemed like a freak at all. In fact, Dudley asserted to himself, magic was cool.

"Pet, I won't have any such nonsense in this house!" Vernon was still vehemently raging at what he saw as an invasion into his home. "It's not natural!"

"Vernon, dear, it's only a piece of plastic. Yes, the boy certainly needs no more encouragement to be a freak, but our poor Dudders! I hate to see him so upset," Petunia herself was rather distraught at seeing her precious son in such a state.

"He'll be fine. It'll toughen him up. No son of mine will be tainted by such filth! Don't you see, Pet? This is how it all starts. It's like a gateway drug for these kinds of people and I won't have it in this house!"

"But Vern—"

"No, Petunia! We have to draw the line here. If we don't stop this here and now…" Vernon's voice trailed off with a shudder. He took a deep calming breath before continuing much softer than before, from near shouting to a hushed, yet earnest whisper. "I need you on board with me, Pet. We are a team, we must present a united front against this. I won't let those freaks ruin our perfectly pleasant, normal lives! That ruddy Potter boy was a no good lay-about! And he dragged your sister down with him. I won't allow such influences on our son!"

"Oh, Vernon…I-I suppose you're right. It wouldn't be worth the risk. With the boy being what he is, and his parents being what they were…freaks!"

And with that, the discussion was over. In the coming weeks, the m-word became a taboo in the Dursley household and would remain so for many years.

Of course, the consequences of Vernon and Petunia having their heated discussion and subsequent resolution in the den, meant that the young Harry Potter was able to hear every word from his spot in his closet. He wasn't really sure what Uncle Vernon was talking about, calling his parents "lay-abouts". Marvin the Magnificent sure didn't seem like a lay-about to him. But he tossed that thought aside focusing on the more salient piece of information.

My parents could do magic?

Harry sat up on his futon, still puffy-eyed, pulling his knees in to his chest. Petunia and Vernon had always been very strict and short with him, but it was only because he kept doing everything wrong. Pulling out the wrong plants in the garden, burning the breakfast bacon, not folding the laundry with crisp enough creases. Such offenses were always accompanied by a cuff over the ear, some stern words, and occasionally being sent to his cupboard without supper. He was only seven years old, but he had promised them that he would get better! This time, however, Harry had no idea what had caused this explosive reaction from his aunt and uncle. He had never seen them quite so flustered and enraged.

But there was one thing that he understood from that night: My parents were magicians!

Harry always tried to avoid the Dursleys' ire, though it rarely worked. However, this piece of knowledge, the very first thing he truly knew about his parents, was not something that he would let go of so easily. Harry Potter finally had a chance to make his parents proud of him. Surely once he became a great magician himself, they would be smiling down on him from beyond the grave.

And so, Harry Potter vowed to himself that he would do whatever it takes to become the greatest magician the world has ever seen.

For the first time in what felt like many months, Harry found himself that afternoon utterly un-accosted by Dudley and his crew, who appeared to be just as fascinated by the magic as he was. So distracted, in fact, that they had completely forgotten all about the joys of Harry-hunting in their awe of what seemed, from a certain perspective, to be utterly impossible.

And now, to know that the very thing that let him get away scot-free for an afternoon and that he found so fascinating and wonderful was also connected to his parents? It was like the stars had aligned for Harry Potter, for the very first time in his life.

Little did young Harry know, that his magic and his parents magic were not in fact very similar at all. Indeed, in his parents' eyes, Harry would be considered to have no magic at all.