Chapter 7.

A/N:

Thank you again for your faves, follows and reviews.

Please enjoy the next instalment and sorry for the long wait. I have been busy with RL commitments, I finished my studies, got a full-time job, and moved interstate. I have been settling into my new job, and it's my first time living away from home.

Some previous chapters. have had light edits done, a few typos fixed and some minor alterations for flow and/or clarity. Nothing that requires a re-read.

I have also been working on another fic which will be finished and posted in the coming months.

Story so far:

Harry has tiny demon fairy minions which he has a strange bond with. Together they help and protect each other, especially against Dudley, and the chronic neglect of the Dursley's. Harry's bond with the small demons grows, and his anger at the Dursely's grows with each passing day.

The incident with the boa constrictor at the zoo resulted in the longest, but thankfully not the worst, punishment Harry had ever experienced. It had been hilarious to watch the Darkling's shove Dudley into the tank and he thought the memory of the event was worth the punishment. Dudley was now spending the summer avoiding him, something which Harry had no complaint against. All took was a knowing smirk, and his wobbling cousin would waddle nervously in the opposite direction. Still, his stomach panged with hunger, and his hands and feet were sore from the unrelenting and imaginative chores his Aunt and Uncle had thought up for him.

The whole drama had been precipitated by Harry's extreme discomfort in the busy zoo. While he was used to the crowds of students at school, he avoided the general noise and discomfort of large groups during break times. He knew all the best quiet spots and didn't like to have his silence invaded.

In the zoo there was no escape from the screaming children and their doting parents. Their glares at his ragged delinquent-like wardrobe dug into his back and raised the hairs at the nape of his neck. Dudley's bullying and general nastiness only increased his self-conscious anxiety. The noise and scrutiny suffocated him, bringing a loud buzz to his ears and dimming his vision to a blurry pinpoint.

He really didn't like crowds, especially those with lots of adults. As his vision grew darker, the buzzing in his ears escalated and pulsed. When it finally reached its peak after lunch, a shockwave burst out from within him, shattering all the glass sheets in the reptile house, the sharp shards spraying outward at incredible speed. The glass didn't harm any of the creatures, despite the invisible shockwave that came from Harry, the glass had exploded in the direction of the crowd of, leaving the reptiles without a scratch or scale out of place.

The result was blessed silence. For a few seconds at least.

Pure chaos descended upon the room. Children cried covered in glass and cuts, their parents yelling as they rushed to their children, only to scream in terror as the collection of reptiles in the room bid a hasty escape. Snakes slithered out of their cages, small lizards hastily skittering across walls and leaping out of their enclosures.

The Darkling's revelled in the chaos, squealing in delight and ferrying the larger lizards out of their cages and down to the ground where they could make their break for freedom.

Harry's attention was drawn to Dudley and his Aunt and Uncle. Petunia's shrill voice and Vernon's roar were two very distinctive sounds. They were trying to help lift their son out of the boa constrictor enclosure. The clamouring crowd around him faded to a distant din, and he could do nothing but watch the drama unfold with an incredulous look on his face. It was as if everything had slowed down, and he could see it all crystal-clear clarity. Now that there was no longer any attention on him he felt invisible at the centre of the pure madness that had erupted around him.

He smiled and laughed (In hindsight, that had been a bad idea. He blamed his manic laughter on the Darkling's, which had been enjoying themselves quite spectacularly.)

Uncle Vernon saw.

In general, the last two years had been the best of his life. The same two years for another person would most likely be miserable, but for Harry anything more than complete and absolute misery is an improvement.

His anger did get the best of him a few times, but the Darkling's were irreplaceable and loyal friends. They were like an extension of his own body, an additional and far-reaching limb with a mind of its own. He could no longer tell where he ended and where they began, their thoughts flowed together seamlessly, feeding into each other and blurring at the edges. They were two halves of a whole.

The Darkling's would always be mischievous creatures, far more than Harry himself, and he allowed them to indulge in their wicked sense of humour on more than one occasion, although he always made sure that Uncle Vernon was nowhere nearby to try to pin on him.

Now it was well into the summer holidays, and as soon as they (along with his very long punishment courtesy of the Zoo Incident) were over Harry would finally be free from Dudley and his silly gang. Dudley was headed off to Uncle Vernon's old school, Smeltings, while Harry himself was headed to Stonewall High.

Smeltings was a boarding school practically on the other side of the country, which meant that Dudley would be far away for a majority of the year – probably saving the Dursley's thousands of pounds in food expenses. Unfortunately Stonewall High was a day school, so Harry would still have to deal with his awful Aunt and Uncle every day after school. Not getting beaten up so often was a massive bonus, so it wasn't all bad.

This particular morning Dudley was playing with the Smelting stick that he had taken to toting around the house. He was being supremely unsubtle in his attempts to hit Harry with it, Uncle Vernon was quite encouraging of the activity. Harry was luckily able to get away from Dudley's swatting when Uncle Vernon issued the command for the mail to be brought over.

In the pile of bills and postcards was a letter addressed to him. Harry Potter, under the stairs, at number four Privet Drive. Well, that was creepily specific.

'How curious', he thought. A flash of coloured thread caught his attention, from the Darkling's perspective he could see that this letter was wrapped neatly in emerald thread, the same colour as the ink that his name was written in. It pulsed around the letter, one of its ends stretching out to an unknown destination. There was purpose in this thread, there was none of the normal wild tangling that he observed in the natural threads of the world. These threads were artificial, too structured to be accidental.

Concluding that this was something important and therefore should remain out of sight, he decided that for now it would be best to keep the strange letter a secret. Besides, even if it wasn't important, it has his name on it, and knowing Dudley and the Dursley's, it would be taken away in the blink of an eye.

The Darkling's reacted to his thought, and within seconds the entire envelope vanished, swallowed up by the swarm.

For a moment Harry was shocked. Had they just eaten his letter? How could they? That letter was for him! It wasn't a snack! He grit his teeth as anger prickled along his skin, a harsh reprimand burning in his throat.

The Darkling's tittered at him, projecting reassurance toward him. Ah, they hadn't eaten it. He immediately deflated, feeling embarrassed. They were just keeping the letter it safe like he wanted.

He perked up as he realised this was a new discovery, a new ability! Never had they taken something into themselves to hide it. Could they hide larger objects? Where did the letter go? Did it shrink, or dissolve? Some experimentation was in order!

"Hurry up boy! What are you doing? Checking for letter bombs?" Shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen, chuckling at his tasteless joke.

Later they would test the boundaries of the ability, but now was not the time. He smoothed his face and adopted a bored expression, expertly locking away the anticipation bubbling in his tummy. He carried the post-cards and bills to the kitchen, ready and resigned to another day of chores.

Harry finally had the opportunity to open the letter late in the evening. The dishes had all been washed, dried, and put away, and the Dursley's were watching television in the living room. They would not call on him again for the rest of the night.

Not wanting the Dursley's to notice the light on, the Darkling's seeped into the cracks of the door and filled the gaps of the vent. Despite being invisible, the Darkling's could block light and cast shadows whenever they wished, and the ability grew stronger the more they practiced. At first, they had only managed to dim the light, but now they could block all but the brightest of lights.

The envelope that he held in his hands was thick and smooth. On the back was a wax seal, a crest pressed into it. The crest was incredibly detailed with four animals and tiny words on the ribbon below. The tiny words weren't in English.

Breaking the seal, Harry pulled out a thick wad of the paper-like material. The first sheet was a letter, addressed to him. The first letter he had ever gotten. Over the past few years his literacy skills had dramatically improved thanks to the patience and support of his Darkling's. Even when he was frustrated and angry at his own failures, not for a second did they leave his side or give up on him. For that he was thankful, and it meant that he could properly read his letter, even if he found long words tricky sometimes.

He mouthed the words as he read. When he got to the end his brain stopped. Ground to halt and refused to go.

He blinked.

What?

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Was this a serious letter? This had to be a prank. A school named Hogwarts, how ridiculous was that? He had no problem in believing in magic, that wasn't the issue. He spoke to snakes and was surrounded by obviously magical fairy-thingies. But HOG. WARTS. Seriously? The Headmaster has the title of Supreme Mugwump. What does that even mean?

He felt a little uneasy now, he had a vague feeling that this Witchcraft and Wizardry thing was going to be utterly mad. The gleeful excitement of the Darkling's only cemented his premonition.

Somewhat nervously, he shuffled the papers to look at the attached materials. The equipment and materials lists didn't exactly inspire confidence. Robes and wands, cauldrons and books, and first-years are not allowed broomsticks.

Harry could feel a head-ache coming on. He'd spent his whole life being neglected by the Dursley's and hunted by Dudley's gang, how was he going to handle navigating a place that he knew nothing about?

Besides, the Dursley's would never let him go anyway. He had no money of his own, and their obsessive hatred of anything abnormal guaranteed their unwillingness to even entertain the thought.

Pulling out some lined paper and a pen, Harry wasn't sure how to formulate his reply. Accept the invitation school or reject it? A large part of him desperately wanted to go, to get away from the Dursley's, to find out more about magic and investigate the origins of his Darkling's. But the more rational and pragmatic part of brain screamed 'NO', these witches and wizards came across as totally insane, and not to mention totally unbothered by the fact that he lived in a cupboard. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would have a fit if he accepted, would they treat him even worse when he announced it, or would they just kick him out entirely?

He worried at his lip in indecision. He didn't know what to write or how to write it. The Darkling's wrapped around him, soothing his anxiety.

Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,

That was the correct way to address his letter, wasn't it?

I'm sorry but I won't be able to go to Hogwarts. I think there has been a mistake, I am going to Stonewall High next year.

Yours sincerely,

Harry Potter

There. That was ok. Pretend it was all a mistake. Rejecting the invitation was upsetting and little disappointing, but he truly thought that it was for the best. A few more years with the Dursley's and he would be free. This Hogwarts thing would only rock the boat and make things worse. He didn't really need to learn magic. He had the Darkling's by his side, he would be fine.

Folding his letter, he wasn't sure what to do with it. The Hogwarts letter had something about an Owl, but Harry didn't have one of those.

A bat-like Darkling fluttered and squeaked at him, then swooped down and settled itself upside down on a glowing green thread. The green thread that was wrapped around the letter and stretching out into the unknown.

His brow furrowed as he thought, an idea forming in his head. He didn't have an owl, but it was obvious that this thread was the key to sending his response. The Darkling's really were clever little things.

"I need an owl." He whispered to them quietly, holding his arm up in front of him.

A group of winged Darkling's gently flapped down and landed in his outstretched arm, a mixture of insect, bird, and mammal type creatures, some with humanoid features and others an amalgamation of features from several animals. The six of them huddled together and began squawk and hum. He wasn't sure why they had come down like this, he only needed one to deliver his message.

There was tugging feeling at the bond, it was hard to define, like the air in his chest was being funnelled into his head and sucked out through his brain. He'd long discovered that this was a sign that the Darkling's were about to do something seriously awesome, or seriously terrible depending on your perspective.

Slowly, their edges began to blur and their limbs began to drip and coagulate. With a slightly unpleasant squelch, the roiling liquid blackness resting on his arm began to coalesce, reshaping and reforming itself.

A wickedly sharp beak released a shriek of triumph, the pitch-black owl with glowing green eyes stretching out its wings and giving them an experimental swish.

"Oh." He gasped out. "That is so cool!" He whispered excitedly.

The owl preened itself smugly. With a mischievous glint in its eye, it snatched the folder letter from his other hand and took flight. Using the emerald green thread like a guide, it disappeared through the wall, a slight smoky residue trailing behind it and seeping into the cupboard wall.

The sucking feeling in his head intensified and Harry was struck with an intense dizziness. Manoeuvring himself into a cramped lying position in his cot, he closed his eyes and slipped into an exhausted slumber, headache pounding behind his eyes.

The next morning Harry felt woozy, like his head been roughly stuffed with cotton. His limbs were heavy, and he moved through his chores monotonously. If Aunt Petunia thought something was wrong, she didn't show it.

His exhaustion only began to ease later in the day while he was working in the garden. Even in the days heat he was soothed by the activity. There was wholesome satisfaction and feeling of peace that came with watching the shimmering threads of stems and leaves of plants. The glowing bundles throbbed and coiled around and down deep into the soil where they joined with the earth. It was only because of the Darkling's that he could see the lines of life that existed in every living thing. The pulsing and throbbing of the threads was the universal heartbeat of all life.

Near his head, the green thread connecting his letter and some distant location was still shimmering brightly, a pure straight line in all the tangled chaos of life. He looked out in the direction of the emerald strand. A black pinprick in the distance was barely visible. It grew closer and closer, closing on his location swiftly.

The growing black splotch was the Darkling Owl, and it dove down at him, coming straight at him with terrifying speed. Harry raised in arms in surprise, instinctively protecting himself against the impact that was sure to come.

The impact never came. The Darkling Owl pulled up at the very last moment, bursting into six smaller Darkling's. They gently floated down toward him, tired chirps and squeak, slinking in to his hair and into his clothes to rest. They were projecting immense relief and happiness at having finally returned to him. Blurry memories flickered through his mind, soaring over expansive green landscapes, a castle tower, a flash of a stern looking woman with glasses.

His letter had been received.

Following his response to the Hogwarts letter, Harry considered the whole matter closed and pushed it to the back of his mind. No point in dwelling on what could have been.

He was in the kitchen preparing lunch when there was a pounding on the door, the sound reverberating through the hall and shaking the house.

"My goodness! Who could that be?" he heard Aunt Petunia exclaim from the living room.

He continued with his task, his Aunt could deal with whoever was at the door.

The door clicked open, and he heard a loud gasp.

"Ello missus Dursley, is 'Arry in?" a voice boomed in question.

Curious at hearing his name, Harry put down the knife he was using to slice vegetables and peeked around the kitchen to look down the hall.

A humongous man was standing at the door, dwarfing Petunia with his massive size. He was wearing a large dark brown leather coat, and his entire face was nothing but beard and hair. A pair of black beetle-like eyes and a wide nose were the only visible facial features peeking out through the scraggly mess.

"Who are you and what do you want with the boy? He's not here." Petunia snapped, straightening her back and putting on brave face. Only the slight quiver in her voice hinted at the true fear that lay beneath her mask.

"I'm 'ere to take him to grab 'is 'ogwarts things!" The man replied, pushing past a sputtering Petunia as if she was nothing more than irritating bug.

As the man thudded toward to kitchen, he caught sight of Harry peering around the corner.

"Arry!" The man boomed excitedly. "Look at yer, all grown up! Yer got yer mother's eyes!" he continued, lumbering toward Harry, his beard contorting in a way that suggested he was grinning beneath the tangled fuzz. The black eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

Completely taken aback by the open friendliness of the stranger, Harry didn't know how to reply and acted on instinct. He squeaked audibly and darted back into the kitchen to calm his racing mind.

Hogwarts had sent someone to take him to get his school equipment! Which also meant that his letter had been ignored? Obviously if the giant man had been dispatched to come get him that meant that his attempt to frame the whole situation as a mistake failed. He wasn't sure if he was feeling happiness or annoyance at their obvious inability to take 'no' as an answer.

"Arry? You a'right, lad?" the man asked, looking down on him with concern.

Shocked by the sudden regard once again being aimed at him, Harry released an involuntary 'eep'. Blushing furiously in embarrassment, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"W-who are you?" he practically shouted, voice pitched and anxious. Without time to prepare to himself, an unexpected event like this wracked him with stress.

Looking confused but pleased by the question, the giant man let out a laugh and rested his hands across his belly.

"My name is Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts." He stated proudly. "You can call me Hagrid. Nice to meet you 'Arry, you were but a small baby last time I saw you."

Hagrid reached out as if to shake Harry's hand, but he jumped back at the large hand coming in his direction.

The giant man was visibly startled by Harry's quick movement away and retracted his hand, a slightly awkward atmosphere forming in the air around them.

"Well, uh, let's go be getting' yer school things then, Harry." said Hagrid, trying to dispel the discomfort.

"No!" shouted Aunt Petunia, face red and twisted in anger at the man who had come barging into her house. "He will not be attending that school for freaks!" she bit out vehemently.

"Freaks?" was Hagrid's enraged response. "Lily an' James weren't freaks! They were the best witch and wizard of their generation!"

"My parents were magic?" Harry interrupted.

Hagrid looked down at him, a stunned expression replacing his previous outrage.

"Magic? O' course they were magic! Yer didn't know?" he asked, "yer didn't tell 'im?" he yelled turning to Aunt Petunia. "Yer tellin' me you never told 'im?!"

"Tell him?" shrieked Petunia, "So he could become a freak like precious, perfect Lily?" she spat. "Magic" she continued derisively, "did nothing but get her and her good for nothing husband BLOWN UP!"

Harry paled. His mum and dad had been blown up? What did that mean? But his confusion at the fate of his parents was halted as his brain fast-forwarded and a detail from an earlier comment caught up with him. Lily and James. The names of his parents. Lily and James Potter.

Hagrid's roaring and Aunt Petunia's shrieking faded into the distance, a muffled noise that grew quieter as the world rushed around him, swelling and then collapsing back down on him.

He found himself lying on the floor, his breathing fast and shallow, tears running down his face. The Darkling's rested around him making soft crooning noised and spread themselves over him like a warm blanket of darkness. Mundane sounds began to filter back through to him, the dripping tap, the chirping of birds from outside. No yelling though.

He forced his eyes to focus on the world around him. Aunt Petunia was nowhere to be seen. The angry looking man named Hagrid was looming over him, eyes shining with worry.

"Harry, lad, are yer alright?" Hagrid asked, reaching hesitantly toward him. He was feeling too lethargic and confused to react in time to the massive hand entering his field of vision.

However, Hagrid only placed his hand gently on Harry's head, a soft gesture that was surprisingly comforting.

"Ready to go get 'yer things, lad? Don't you worry, yer gonna be a great wizard just like yer Mum and Dad." Hagrid comforted.

Harry nodded hesitantly. He was magic. Like his parents.

Next chapter we'll do the Traditional 'harry goes to Diagon Alley for the first time' chapter :)

I'll try to put some more time aside each week for writing.