Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. I have written quite a bit of it but the delay comes in the editing. Therefore, I make no promises as to how often I will update.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I think I know where I am going with this story but thanks for any suggestions you have.
Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, saviour of the wizarding world was not at the closing feast. He was not present for the final award of points, nor did he have knowledge of how Neville tipped the balance in favour of Gryffindor. All students had been forbidden to see him, those that had had been sworn to secrecy of the state of the boy. It would not do for the wizarding world to grow disillusioned about their hero.
After all Albus Dumbledore had bigger things to worry about than the bad publicity that would result from discovery, like how he could use the now blind boy who lived. He still had time, and if anything Albus Dumbledore was patient.
Maybe all his efforts may not be a total waste.
Well worse case he could always start again with another one. Plenty a witch and wizard had the potential to take on the sort of power. 'All I need is to find one that would continue to be useful.'
...
Harry's life was officially hell.
Since his arrival at Privet Drive the Dursley family had gone out of their way to make his life as miserable as possible. He had been relocated back to his cupboard under the stairs the instant they learned of his condition, along with his trunk and broomstick, for all the good that it would do him.
At least they no longer tried to force him to do chores, the oil burns on his hands and face had taken a week to heal.
He still had trouble contemplating what the man he believed he trusted had done when he arrived.
*Flashback*
The words were kind and nice, his condition as the headmaster called it was quickly explained. The magic was directed in several different directions, and the suggestions that were laced in the voice had dumbfounded the Potter heir. "Accept this," it whispered to him. While Vernon and Petunia were given quite different message "Same as before," "No magic," "despise," "ignore," "use," "distrust," "useless freak," "frighten."
The ramifications of it shocked the boy, apparently his reaction was exactly the same as what would be expected from the command. Dumbledore left not realising what he had left in his wake. He had not noticed that moments after he apparated out that the boy had tears of anger and frustration running down his face. Dumbledore made a serious error of judgment.
For this was one mistake that would affect him for many years to come.
*End Flashback*
Since then the Dursleys had been as bad if not worse than they ever had. Every lie that his supposed family ever told him was created by the greatest wizard alive.
The night that Dudley had pushed him into the stove with the hot oil for chips Harry swore that he would gain enough strength to stand by himself, for Harry Potter would no longer be a pawn in the other players' games.
...
For the past few days Harry had been noticing a presence in the air.
He was sure it was there before he had noticed it and he would not have if it was not for his attempts at testing his boundaries. He was feeling along the wards trying to pin point the exact nature of each of them. He felt Dumbledore's own, the strongest ones there, and a set of weak ones that only monitored that he was sure was the ministries. As he was prying at the ministries, figuring at least one was focused entirely on his own essence, he felt a twinge almost on the edge of his senses.
He thought he imagined it at first but then it was there again.
Focusing completely on unobtrusively finding the source he felt great surprise.
There was something in the rose bushes, in the backyard, farthest from the house.
Something not at all human.
Yet something completely magical.
Though the magic was not a wizards.
In his surprise Harry accidentally unbound one of the ministry wards. As it unwound it set off a chain reaction through the rest of them. With a twist of his will he prevented Dumbledore's wards from being affected.
...
A small creature outside in the rose bushes felt the disturbance in the magic around him. All the years working for his master taught him one thing above anything else, survival. With a -pop- the short creature was no longer there.
The warning must come some other day.
...
The Masons after putting up with the Dursley's 'hospitality' for the last hour, having to deal with the dim-witted son and the sexist and racist jokes, along with the grimace that spread across their hostesses face in a mockery of a smile.
They had to remind themselves "it was for business," "yes a sacrifice for business."
The Japanese golfer joke was coming to its punch line as Mr Mason realised he had some vacation time coming up. They might need a week off.
When Petunia asked if anyone wanted some pudding he had decided on two weeks were well deserved.
As Mr Mason was on his last thread purple lightening fell from the sky, causing all in the room to jump, incidentally causing Petunia to drop the pudding, upside down, on poor Dudley's head.
...
When the lightening flashed the first thing the adult Dursley's did was move their eyes to cupboard under the stairs.
The door being still triple locked and closed set their worries at rest.
Dudley ate his fill of the pudding.
Little to say when Petunia came back with a dish towel there was little left to clean up.
...
Now Mrs Mason was not stupid by any means, nor was she dense. She may seem as a little shrewd but she was a genius when it came to business and finance. In fact it was her that built up this company with the concepts she gained from the days that her husband was a builder (though he acted as the visible CEO). She realised early on that it was a masculine industry, and to be respected she could not appear to be the one in charge.
Mr Mason was her perfect counterpart. He was street wise and knew how to deal with these blue collared chauvinistic pigs. Even though he had shared nothing but their workplace he knew where to laugh and when to wink and what innuendoes to smile at.
After Chris shared some of his views at a pub, half drunk after a hard days work, being a perfect gentleman, it became clear they were a match made in heaven.
Three years in a working relationship they realised that they were friends. When their company's shares were released in the stock exchange they had dinner out where he proposed to Jules. Almost ten years and still going hot never a day of regret. Sadness yes but never regrets.
...
While the pudding was falling the boy who lived was on the receiving end of the results of his actions.
...
Though the wards were comparatively weak compared to Dumbledore's they were still put up by the Ministry of Magics Magical Law Enforcement's Ward Teams.
Specialists are usually called in to put up Ancient Wards, but the modern ones used everyday are put up specifically by teams of witches and wizards, numbering anywhere between thirty and sixty members. They take anywhere between several hours to the upper part of a month to do the work. If in muggle neighbourhoods they use a wide array of disguises illusions and potions to hide their presence, normally as a public works team.
Harry Potter's wards took three months with two, hundred man teams working around the clock (most of the extras needed volunteered for the job). They were forced to use a wide array of notice-me-not spells just to keep the numbers under wraps. The only reason that Harry was not under constant attention is that the spells used only need three or four wizards to be on location to direct them as they should, the rest were only needed within twenty kilometres of the final resting place, the magics being constantly invisible.
The problem with most modern wards is the sheer brute force required to get them initialized, the power in them is as strong as the day they were cast as the day they fade away. The one used on the boy should have lasted at least eight more years.
Over the past five years, the budget cuts have forced the ward monitoring from being constant. In fact the only one anywhere near constant would be Improper Uses of Magic, that being only when the wards pick something up.
Amazingly the only time that the wards would be checked for functionality is on the annual audit, which coincidentally was that very morning. The ministry would not find its error for at least another year.
Another accepted fact by the ministry and the wizarding world as whole, to take down wards before expiry is suicidal. Only very specialised teams from within the wards and complete access to all the information about them would ever attempt it, and that would only be as a last resort after a dozen protection and grounding spells were cast.
Harry Potter just took down wards of over four hundred thousand working magic hours by himself with no protection by himself. Protection equal to that of Diagon Alley including Gringrotts (wizarding equivalent not goblin magic) at the height of you-know-who's reign. To say the magical backlash was astronomical is an understatement. All the energy goes to the who ever is dismantling them, usually to be redirected elsewhere.
...
If anyone witnessed the wards coming down first hand they would have seen dozens of bolts of lightening striking the ground in an array of different colours, overall effect the purple lightening flash every one saw, though none directly. The only evidence a few light burn marks that could easily be dismissed by Dudley Dursley's fire works.
...
An old lady around the corner saw the lightening, when she checked Dumbledore's wards to find no problems at all her worry diminished. Her charges location was currently in bed having moved from studying. She dismissed it as a freak occurrence of nature.
...
Harry felt the power coursing through his body, not having any direction or focus continuing to build up over a period of several seconds until it burst through his skin, his mouth opening in a silent scream, before blacking out.
...
Mrs Mason certainly was not old, nor was she going senile, but she swore she heard a moan coming from the door near the stairs. By the way the Dursley's acted only caused her suspicions to increase. Before she knew it Vernon Dursley was pumping her husbands hand and showing them to the door saying that they would work the business details out at another time.
At that time Jules was to relieved to get away from those awful people to put up much of a fight. She pulled on her business jacket as tight as possible as she fished in her purse for the car keys.
Mr Mason got in the Mercedes right after her and pulled the map from the glove compartment to find the quickest route out of Surrey and away from those people.
...
To say Vernon was angry might be stating the obvious.
Vernon was furious!
The little freak soured the business deal intentionally!
He ruined the pudding and probably was at fault for the lightening!
Vernon decided then and there that he was no longer going to be nice. Storming to cupboard door he reached his hand to undo the locks and latches only to be shocked!
What nerve! With an inhuman cry he threw open the door preparing to beat the freakishness out of him. He threw open the open the door recking the latch only to find the freak lying down!
This was just to much, Vernon grabbed him by the neck and threw him across the room only to hear the freak's arm snap.
That was it!
His family had enough stress as it is to have to harbour that extra inconvenience, at least with a dog you can put them down!
Coming to a quick decision Vernon pushed reason aside and pulled open the front door only to walk over to pick the freak up to throw him out of his home. If he is able to do all the freakish behaviour then he should not disturbing the lives of completely normal people. Deciding once and for all he walked back to the cupboard and pulled out the trunk and broom only to throw it on top of him before slamming the door.
That was when the rain decided to fall.
...
The Masons had watched the entire scene from the point they heard the door slam open. Jules watched horrified as she saw the child that looked to be around the age of eight or nine be thrown ten feet to the curb. When she saw the trunk that followed almost hitting him she cried out.
'What kind of monster can treat a child, any child like that?' Chris whispered to his wife.
'We were sitting on his couch all night...' Mrs Mason responded, as the porch light on number 4 was turned off. The child stood up and felt his way towards where the trunk landed. Finally getting there only to sit on top of it to put his face in his arms and start sobbing, carefully cradling his left arm in his right.
Please review to tell me what you think. The more descriptive the better it helps