Houses Comp piece. AU, at your delightful service. Many thanks to my amazing fellow writers in Ravenclaw. I love you all.

Ravenclaw, Head of House, Drabble (Additional), Prompt: Accidental Magic, WC: 489

AU, Obscurial Harry.

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Just as every day of Harry Potter's quiet and miserable life thus far, he woke up in the dark cupboard, a spider shivering in front of his eyes, and one hand caught in a web. It didn't bother him anymore. Not the ruthless banging against the door as Dudley passed him, kicking it hard. Not the shrieking shout from his aunt and uncle, demanding him to be awake two hours too early.

Harry raised his head slowly, pounding tiredness brutally harsh in the light as he switched it on. Aunt Petunia banged on the latch of the cupboard. A flash of annoyance sparked within him as his head throbbed painfully. He heard her gasp from the other side of the door and pulled on overlarge jeans with a shirt to match. Something of Dudley's, whose clothes had always been ridiculously large for the smaller boy who received them. Dudley had disregarded this particular pair of jeans after spilling hot chocolate on the knees, and the shirt was just something he fundamentally disliked.

"Dudley turn that idiotic thing off, right this second!" howled Uncle Vernon from the living room, from which his son was blasting the show Charmed. Harry knew it was because of the magic. Vernon Dursley was an empirical man and had never appreciated anything that was remotely unrealistic. Dreams of flashing lights, flying motorbikes, and magic were strictly forbidden. For the mention of a ghost, Harry had been without supper for an entire week.

Unspeakable things had been done and said to Harry for the little things that seemed to happen around him - things he couldn't explain for the life of him. How the ugly geometric sweater had shrunk every time it was almost forced onto him; how his hair had grown from shaven to messy again overnight; how he had jumped and reached the roof of the school building.

And he was terrified. What would the Dursley's do if they found out or realised what this was? They'd send him away, or burn him alive. Harry was sure of it. As sure as he was that it was magic.

On that particular day, it was bad. He'd reached for a cup, and it had leaped towards his outstretched hands. Glass slamming into him, scraping across the worktop. No one had noticed though. He had wished Dudley to shut up, who had then experienced a coughing fit. Out of breath, wheezing, Dudley had been unable to utter a word. Anxiety seemed to be pouring out of Harry. Contain it, he told himself.

Like many before him, it was too late. The roots had sunk themselves into him. The pressure to not perform accidental magic was too large, and it suddenly seemed to be bursting out of every orifice. Black, thick, and smoke-like. He was no longer a boy, or even human, but a magical entity that was tearing through Privet Drive and the streets adjacent to it.

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Thanks for reading!