Mighty Little Mage

by DZ2

Rewrite of Knowledge is Power: After being robbed of his childhood innocence, Harry Potter was forced to rely on his greatest weapon: his mind! Grey Superpowerful Harry; Eventual Harmony;

1. A Very Different Beginning

Mighty Little Mage: A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own any crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.

Plot: Rewrite of Knowledge is Power: After being robbed of his childhood innocence, Harry Potter was forced to rely on his greatest weapon: his mind!

Author's Note: So, as I once said I might do, I finally decided to go ahead with this rewritten version of one of my most-successful WIPs that, regrettably, died on me thanks to negative responses and flat-out criticising and insulting my style. But, this time, I'm determined to let nothing stop me, so, let the fun begin.

And, as always, if you don't like it, don't read it.

Recommended Reads: The Rise of the Last Potter by HPfanfictioner66, Proud Parents, Harry Crow and More Important Things by RobSt, Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality by Less Wrong, Partially Kissed Hero by Perfect Lionheart, Harry Potter and the Daft Morons and Angry Harry and the Seven by Sinyk, Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man, Harry Potter and the Rune Stone Path by Temporal Knight and A Study in Magic and A Study in Magic: The Application by Books of Change

Key Pairing: Eventual Harmony

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

/Parseltongue/

Chapter 1: A Very Different Beginning

"This boy will be famous. There won't be a child in the world who doesn't know his name…"

"Exactly! He's far better off growing up away from all of that…until he is ready…"

Even as he seemed to placate Minerva McGonagall's worries, and proceeded to set down baby Harry James Potter on the doorstep of Number Four, Privet Drive, leaving a letter with the blanket-wrapped bundle, Albus Dumbledore had no idea just how wrong he was.

And, unfortunately for the old man, it would be ten long, emotional years before he found out.

In the meantime, thinking he knew what he was talking about, Dumbledore smiled sadly at the sleeping infant lying there.

"Good luck…Harry Potter!"

Mighty Little Mage

Ten Years Later

For as long as he could remember, Harrison James Potter had always loved to read.

To be able to learn anything and everything new about the world, add to his already-impressive arsenal and acquire the skills and knowledge to survive, the only way he knew how; it was a gift that was far better than any other in the world. Books were his sanctuary, knowledge was his mistress and the pursuits of it all were his quest.

One that would never end, for as long as he should live, never looking back, only forwards, as he sought new answers and rose to new heights.

Mind you, given the fact that Harrison couldn't forget anything about his life – even if he wanted to, in the case of some things – it would probably be more-appropriate to say he'd always loved to read for as long as he was able to do it.

As a child, while others were busy generally being the way kids are, Harrison – once known as Harry before he'd decided, all on his own, he liked the name of Harrison better – was reading books, examining newspapers and generally learning as much as he could about the world. If anyone bothered to ask him – and not just laugh at and mock him because he'd rather read and study than play games outside and be what some claimed was a normal boy – Harrison would admit it to them: he couldn't explain it and neither could anyone who saw him, especially when some people often claimed he was looking at the pictures or messing about trying to read and learn above and beyond his station.

However, when he turned around and gave them an accurate description of what he'd been reading, they soon shut up and, while many of the people he knew saw this talent as a good thing, there were those who saw it as wrong, weird or just plain freakish.

He couldn't explain the how or the why, but it was like, ever since he'd been able to put eyes and voice to text and image, he had developed a keen, if not unconquerable hunger for knowledge that refused to be sated until he was…well, a better man and a smarter individual than most others, if not pretty much anyone and everyone else out there.

Take Harrison's family, for example…

Mighty Little Mage

Mr and Mrs Dursley of Number Four, Privet Drive, had always liked to believe they were the cream of the crop and that everything about them was nice and normal, in such a way that they'd have probably found pleasurable company in a certain snooty socialite with a surname that was spelled B-U-C-K-E-T – but pronounced Bouquet.

From their snooty, unpleasant, we're-better-than-you-and-we-know-it attitude to the fact that they encouraged their only son, Dudley Dursley, to become morbidly-obese and turn into something of a bully, the Dursleys were anything but normal.

So, when Harrison had first wound up on their doorstep, dumped there like he was nothing more than a parcel left out in the early hours of the day, the supposedly, self-delusionally-normal lives of the Dursleys had, apparently, become threatened by this alien presence.

However, for reasons Harrison hadn't been able to figure out, even after things took a different turn for him, for a time, the delusional band of social piranhas put up with him, even going as far as assigning him chores while Dudley was generally treated like royalty, meaning he did nothing and Harrison did everything.

However, when the boys started school and Harrison was labelled as a prodigy while Dudley was constantly being referred to specialists about his lack of personal development or his obesity, the shit hit the fan for the Dursleys.

As a result, Vernon Dursley took it upon himself to accidentally lose Harry in the middle of a large crowd in the middle of Manchester, which led to the young boy being left alone, scared and, at the same time, curious about what was going on. Indeed, when the police found him, Harrison told them what had happened and gave them an address for his relatives, but, when reports came back saying that the house was empty and it looked like it had been abandoned, Harrison was left homeless.

As a result, he soon joined the ranks of St Christopher's Children's Home for Boys where his skills with learning, reading and his personal, mental and physical growths were all observed with careful scrutiny and interest.

At the same time, hoping for answers more than anything else, Harrison also kept one ear to the ground for any mention of the Dursleys, if only so he could enjoy the looks on their faces when he was sent back to them. However, after another three years in the orphanage, Harrison never heard from them again, but, if he was honest with himself, by that time, he'd actually stopped caring, choosing instead to be the only thing they'd clearly wanted him to be in life.

Alone, relying on nothing and no-one but himself and his smarts to survive.

And that was just fine with Harrison.

Mighty Little Mage

Shortly after Harrison's ninth birthday, however, he was left genuinely-surprised, if not briefly-excited when a kind, caring family finally decided to free him from the humdrum cycle of life and the rut he was in at St Christopher's.

Mr and Mrs Miller – whom Harrison was told to call Mother and Father and, for a time, he did so, enjoying the feeling of having a family once again and hoping everything was going to be all right – seemed like nice people and, at first, Harrison genuinely believed they wanted to give him a home, wanting him to be their son and give him the comforts of a family.

He even allowed himself to believe that their insistence on calling them his Mother and Father was a genuine wish to be family.

However, it soon became clear to Harrison that their true intentions were more-selfish: for one, away from the limelight of the Children's Home and anyone who came asking for Harrison and an update on his progress, instead of treating him like a loving son, the Millers expected him to spend hours on end poring over old, thick textbooks, filled with the sort of material that no nine-year-old should have access to.

Not that he minded the studies, mind you.

On the contrary, Harrison took to the new knowledge and the studies like a fish to water, but when he realised that the only love and pride he'd get from his family was the love and kindness of having a supposed child prodigy for a son, and filling his head with their desires of how they expected him to be the next Prime Minister or some other rubbish, he soon lost interest.

It got so bad that, after one particularly-intense, tiring study session, Harrison tried going back to St Christopher's, explaining that he didn't feel right staying with the Millers.

This, however, was the key turning point in Harrison's life when, rather than believing him and helping him, the carers at the home more or less forced him to go back when Mr Miller put on the façade of a kind, loving parent, turning on the waterworks and giving a performance worthy of a streak of a century-long run of Oscars for Best Actor, insisting that Harrison was just troubled and still unused to the love they could give him.

When he got home, however, Harrison's life took another turn for the worse when, after being put through the wringer and made to play along with the Millers' act of love and consolation of his fears as a sweet little boy, he later found bolts fastened onto the outside of his door, as well as real handcuffs fixed to his desk, and a huge stack of books and information for him to learn, all of which made him feel even less like a child and more like a prisoner in his own home – not that he called it a home.

Because of how he'd basically been betrayed by people who were supposed to care about him and have his best interests at heart – again, if he counted his experience with the Dursleys – that day was the first and last time Harrison put any trust in adults seeing him as anything more than a symbol, not to mention the idea that anyone could look at him and see a little kid.

Weirdly, a fortnight later, Mr and Mrs Miller found themselves investigated for tax evasion, as well as how the police and the HMRC had received evidence, citing embezzlement from their businesses, both of which led to them being arrested.

Harrison, meanwhile, was returned to St Christopher's, not that he seemed happy about it either.

In fact, his stoic, apathetic expression soon earned him a wide berth from the other kids while, in an even weirder twist of fate, when the businesses in question went looking for the money that had been embezzled – which, when put together from a high-ranked manager's post with Selfridge's for Mrs Miller while Mr Miller was CEO with Halifax Bank, totalled somewhere in the region of 2.5 million pounds – they found no trace of the cash, let alone any sign that it had been diverted into an offshore account or any other hidden secrets.

And yet records of Mr and Mrs Miller's accounts said the money had been there, but nobody could explain where it had gone or how it had been done so expertly.

No-one, that is, except for the privately-amused little boy who'd been returned to St Christopher's.

A little boy whom, when questioned, denied having any knowledge of such funds or money.

Denials that were believed as well.

After all, who'd suspect a now-ten-year-old boy of being able to understand what embezzlement was, let alone how to use things like finances with such grown-up matters as bank accounts?

More to the point, who would trust a child with such private, personal information and think it okay?

Mighty Little Mage

Having been returned to his home-away-from-home, and outside of the public eye once more, Harrison continued to grow, as well as mature in a way that soon made him something of a pariah with the other kids, though not without silently congratulating himself on using everything the Millers had forced him to learn to bring about their downfall.

The £2,500,000 was a nice compensation package as well, for all the hurt, the mental and emotional scars and the sleepless, food-deprived days and nights where those magpie-minded egotists had decided Harrison was their pet project and not their prodigal son.

As for where Harrison had managed to store so much money and keep it from fair-weather friends and other money-grubbing minds: that was his little secret, but it was safe to say that he'd made sure the money was very safe indeed.

And it would have to be, if he was going to do what he did bets from then on.

Survive, relying on his most-powerful weapon – his mind – and the care and trust of the only one who mattered.

Harrison James Potter.

Mighty Little Mage

For the next few months, he continued to be a resident at St Christopher's, deciding to stay as far away from potential adoptions and foster families as he could, especially since he knew they'd probably be the same as the Millers with their hunger for fame in taking in a gifted child.

And for a while, Harrison was content being as far out of the spotlight as he could get.

That is, until the day when a strange letter, so precisely addressed to him that it might as well have been a laser fixed on his location in preparation for a nuclear strike, found its way into his hands.

On that day, Harrison found something that really interested him.

Something more than books and cleverness and the pursuit of knowledge.

He found something…he didn't know…

Mighty Little Mage

It was just another ordinary day for the kids in St Christopher's and while many enjoyed the summer sun out in the yard and discussed potential adoptions, there was one whom was where he preferred to be.

Inside, surrounded by the gateways to knowledge and greatness.

Looking at him, anyone would find it hard to believe there could be anything unusual about the boy known as Harrison Potter; with his black hair that never seemed to lie flat and his emerald-green eyes that never seemed to lose their calculating, but innocent gleam, he was described by most as an angel – though many more would call him a fallen angel. Even with his reluctance to go outside, the total exposure to the summer sun had also given him a healthy tan that accentuated his angelic features, as well as the air of nobility and pride in his facial features.

Unlike many of his peers, Harrison was dressed in a skin-hugging short-sleeved shirt as well as a pair of loose, dark-blue chinos, which would have looked informal, if not casual on anyone else, but, on Harrison, it made him look older than he was. A single black biro was nestled comfortably behind one ear while his hands held onto a copy of his favourite book, David Copperfield, which he read with the same bored, but private look about him that showed he was happier inside with the book than outside.

He could also imagine what it'd be like to be someone like Copperfield or another Dickensian character. (1)

As he finished the book for what seemed to be the tenth time since he'd first been given the copy as a birthday present, Harrison sniffed before he leaned back against the window sill and looked out of the window.

His room was on the less-sunny side of the orphanage, which meant that any sunlight wouldn't hit the area until much later in the day; this was just one of the reasons Harrison liked it so much; however, as he looked out of the window, watching the dark-green leaves of a nearby oak tree blow in the summer breeze, Harrison's eyes narrowed slightly when he caught sight of something very strange making its way towards him.

It looked like a dark-grey tawny owl, the sight of which made Harrison's eyes narrow even further as, realising it was flying to his window, Harrison clicked the latch open. This allowed the strange creature to soar through the open window where it landed nimbly on the edge of his feet, which were currently resting on the sill with the rest of him.

For a moment, the owl shook itself before, to Harrison's bewilderment, he watched as the owl offered one of its talons to him, revealing an even stranger sight: a yellowish-coloured envelope with a red wax seal. As Harrison eyed the seal, he took note of the design it bore: a surprising, but interesting quartet of beasts surrounding a large letter H.

An eagle, a badger, a snake and a lion, all of which looked as though they were supposed to mean something, but Harrison didn't know what that something was, while, when he peered closer, Harrison could make out a string of very small letters printed over the bottom of the seal.

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titilandus.

"Never tickle a sleeping dragon?" muttered Harrison, his knowledge of Latin just one of the few perks of the lessons drilled into him by those who'd stolen so much from him, only to have the price paid back tenfold thanks to his deadliest weapon.

As for the owl who carried the oddly-sealed envelope, it didn't seem to move too quickly, which told Harrison it was waiting for him to relieve it of its burden; even when he did so, however, Harrison saw the owl remain exactly where it was, save for when he moved his feet, which caused it to hop off his socked feet and onto the sill.

"Strange bird," drawled Harrison, looking away from the owl as he eyed the envelope it had given him; aside from the odd seal and the parchment used to design said envelope, the only other thing Harrison noticed was an address written on the reverse in emerald-green ink.

Mr H Potter

Room 7

St Christopher's Orphanage

Guildford

Surrey

"What a strangely specific address," muttered Harrison, turning the envelope over once more before, lifting it to his face, he cracked the seal with his teeth, but not before he took a closer look at the envelope. It had come from a place where it was handled respectfully, since Harrison couldn't make out any creases or hints of a stamp; it also looked like whoever had addressed the envelope had either done so with stencils or some kind of computerised text printed onto the paper.

How else was the writing style so perfect, yet so unrecognizable that it looked almost too-perfectly written to have been done by a human hand?

As for the seal, it was candle wax, but there was an underlying tang of some hidden scent wherever the writer had sent the letter from; something like polished wood or…he didn't know…some kind of plant?

Wherever it had come from, Harrison was even more intrigued; as he cracked the seal, he gently examined the contents of the letter, which turned out to be a single letter with two pieces of parchment, one of which looked more like a shopping list while the other had a very unusual header.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

"Is this supposed to be some sort of joke?" scoffed Harrison, ignoring the long list of accolades concerning someone named Albus Dumbledore as he turned his attention to the letter itself.

Dear Mr Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

'A school?' thought Harrison, re-reading the letter several times over, while he also considered his thoughts. 'As in an actual school? With an actual Deputy Headmistress and Headmaster? But what kind of a name is Hogwarts anyway? And why would they say I've been accepted? I certainly don't remember being offered a place to begin with. And they await my owl…so…what? Am I supposed to send a reply back with this unusual bird?'

There was also the question of Magic, but Harrison ignored that, if only because he'd seen enough magic acts and secrets of the code to know that there were those out there capable of using prestidigitation to baffle the mind and befuddle the senses.

And, if this school was part of that world, then, who knows?

It might be good for a laugh.

For a moment, Harrison eyed the owl sceptically before he turned the letter over, reading the second parchment as carefully and with the same air of curious scrutiny as he did the first letter;

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require: Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following: The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT: 1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

'If this is a joke, I admit it: it's starting to get funny,' thought Harrison dryly, looking more to the list of books as he wondered, 'I mean, whoever came up with these authors, they must be capable of a level of comedic genius worthy of Messers Barker and Corbett: I mean, come on! Why else would you come up with a name like Newt Scamander? Bathilda Bagshot? Quentin Trimble? They don't sound like bestsellers…but it's funny because they actually sound like a bunch of interesting reads.'

Shaking his head as he thought on the humour of the moment, Harrison sighed before, removing his pen from behind his ear, he picked up his book once more and, turning it over, he rested the letter on top of it, giving him a hard surface to write on, while he penned his response.

Once he was done, he offered the letter to the owl before he said, "Well, off you go, Archimedes; I'm sure Merlin's waiting for your return. Say hi to the Wart for me too, won't you?"

If the owl even suspected the fact he was being sarcastic, it didn't seem offended or amused.

Instead, it took off silently from the bedroom window, leaving Harrison alone with his thoughts and the small glimmer of humour that lingered in the back of his mind.

Although he didn't admit it, there was a part of Harrison that couldn't help but think, 'Please let it be true…because it's a whole new world to explore, new knowledge to claim and new levels of greatness to reach.'

Another part of him, however, couldn't help but also think, 'Ha, ha, very funny; my name's Bugs Bunny…and I say: come on then, show me exactly what's up, Doc!'

Mighty Little Mage

When Minerva McGonagall received a response from one of the students whom she'd dispatched the traditional acceptance letter to, she was a little surprised, as well as a little aghast at the air of pride and mockery that was written in the response from said student.

This was only heightened by the fact that it was addressed to one student in particular, but Minerva didn't think of that as she read the response;

Dear "Deputy Headmistress McGonagall" (kindly note the air-quotes there)

Let me first congratulate you on making me smile with regards to your letter regarding the existence of magic, let alone the existence of a school where one can become a wizard – or witch in the case of the females of the species.

However, the thing that amuses me even more about your attempt at fun and games is the creativity that must have gone into naming those books and creating such interesting topics.

Now, don't get me wrong, I admire and appreciate LARPing as much as the next boy, but I, personally, have never had any ambitions to join any of them: whether they're Tolkien fans, Pratchett fans or even King fans, let alone the embarrassing LARPers who go around in George Lucas' gear and call it normal.

So, if you want me to actually consider your attempt at humour even an iota of truth, and decide it's something I am genuinely interested in exploring, it's going to take something truly spectacular; therefore, I cordially invite you to arrange the necessary proof and deliver it to my address on the eleventh anniversary of my birth: July 31st.

If you convince me, I'll attend your "school" but if not, I have the names and addresses of several well-known therapists who can help you keep your jokes in better taste.

As a wise man once said…

Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence!

And, sorry, but even my hunger for knowledge and your amusing book titles barely qualify as that.

Ball's in your court, now, "Deputy Headmistress" (again, kindly note the air-quotes)

Yours sincerely,

Harrison James Potter

Staring in disbelief at the way the letter talked about such things as magic and Hogwarts being fake, Minerva felt horror rise up in her heart.

How could Lily and James' son not believe in magic? How could he call Hogwarts a joke? Why did he seem so…different from the little boy she'd seen delivered to those damn Muggles?

Had she been thinking clearly, Minerva might have noted the address on the letter; however, with fear and disbelief clouding her senses, the only thing she could do was oblige one request on the letter.

Extraordinary evidence.

Fortunately, she knew just the colleague who'd be able to provide that and more in spades…

So, the rewritten adventure begins and, blimey, talk about a very different Harrison, but if the Muggles aren't prepared for what happens when he uses his most-dangerous weapon, how are the magicals supposed to prepare themselves?

Also, can Minerva prove the full existence and truth to Harrison, preferably without losing her mind when she sees the man where the innocent little boy should be?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: The Prodigal Saviour Returns: Harrison meets McGonagall and her colleague, leaving one beyond amazed at what they find and another asking themselves one question: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore: what have you DONE?

Please Read and Review

AN: Title

In case anyone's wondering, the title of this story is somewhat-inspired by Mighty Little Man, the theme song to the TV series Young Sheldon, which a few fans of the original version of this story actually compared Harrison to; obviously, all rights to the original creators of the song, but it just seemed a fun idea for the new title.

AN (1)

A nice little shout-out to Daniel Radcliffe's acting debut in David Copperfield.