At the age of six, Harry came to the conclusion that he was smarter than his classmates. A lot smarter. He called them fish. The same level of observation, cunning, intelligence...yes, really, everything. They looked, but they didn't see. He hoped the teachers would be smarter. It turned out that they were the same fish, but with a little more knowledge. They don't bang their foreheads against the wall of the aquarium, so to speak. Well, Harry decided that it wouldn't hurt him much to learn from their knowledge so that he could use it much more effectively later.
The plan was definitely a good one, until he brought home a perfect report card. They beat him up, put him in a closet for two weeks, and then called the school and told anyone who would answer the phone that he'd cheated off Dudley. No one believed it, and they didn't cancel the results, because the little boar had barely gotten a passing score.
So Harry realized that the fish around him didn't like it when someone stood out among them.
Once, when the Dursleys "forgot" to feed him for the third day in a row, he tricked his classmates into getting several lunches. Then he had intimidated every member of the Dudley gang, and they had been afraid of him ever since. It was, surprisingly, elementary.
That's how Harry realized that the fish around him were fairly easy to control.
One day Potter was beaten up near his favorite library. Neither persuasion nor reasoning worked. He lay in pain for an hour or so before he could get up and waddle home. This wasn't Dudley's gang, but real thugs who didn't skimp on the punches.
So Harry realized that the fish around him could be aggressive, just because.
One day he decides to commit a crime. All because he was tired of eating out. Potter conspired a local gang of teenagers to rob a large store, with Harry himself as a sort of "hostage". In fact, he had deceived the robbers, and while the police were dealing with them, he had privatized some fifty-pound bills. After that it was a simple matter to pretend to be a poor victimized boy. And then no one looked for the missing two hundred and fifty pounds. Everyone was satisfied that the main sum had been recovered. And if they did, they didn't even think about Harry. It was enough money to keep him from starving for a long time. And the robbers, by the way, were put on trial, with Potter as a witness.
He had managed to trick and manipulate Dursle into signing up to study at Oxford, whose rector Harry had been able to get in touch with and arrange for an externship. It had been quite a challenge to prove to an adult that you were clearly capable of pulling off an institute at the age of nine. But it was worth it. He even got a scholarship.
Two months before his eleventh birthday, Potter received his Oxford degree.
Harry was now officially smarter than the fish around him. Fish love paperwork.
Then it turned out he was a wizard. To be honest, he didn't care. Yes, it took him a while to adapt to the new world, to realize that he was a star there and that the headmaster obviously had plans for him. However, the main thing was to stay out of the way. At lessons he behaves as before, a little above average. But then all day long he had free classrooms and the library at his disposal. Those were very good conditions.
There was a mishap at the end of the year. Harry killed a teacher. It was the first time Potter had ever killed someone. He realized that most likely the professor was no longer human, and in general Dumbledore pushed him to this step in every possible way. And then reassured him morally. But...
This summer Harry smoked for the first time.
Although the fish was stupid, but it was a pity.
The Basilisk mess had started in second year. For some reason, the Headmaster kept setting Potter up to be the first on the scene. Everyone around him turned on him, getting angry, calling him names.
It wasn't very nice when stupid fish opened their mouths at him.
But along with that came another problem - his brain was demanding a workload that he couldn't give. All study now consisted of "memorize the word and gesture", "repeat the word and gesture", "repeat the gesture without words", "perform the spell without crutches". No strain on the brain. Math didn't help. You know, it's like scratching around a mosquito bite. It's kind of easier, but not completely.
Harry found that the pain he was inflicting on himself was morally relieving, and he felt better. From then on, he started cutting himself when he couldn't take it anymore.
Oh, and at the end of the year, he had to kill that snake on the headmaster's orders. It wasn't hard. Avada is an ultimatum.
It also turned out he had "friends." Potter didn't fully understand the term. One was named Ron, and Harry really liked him. He made Potter look even smarter. And there was a curly-haired girl... Harley? Gerda? Well, it didn't matter, anyway. They were always following him around. In class, at lunch, dinner and breakfast. They're always around him. It was annoying.
Sometimes the fish flicker in front of his eyes too quickly.
Before his third year, Harry decided to learn how to use knives for more than just dissecting himself. The training was going by leaps and bounds. After all, he was a genius, not an ordinary person. He had grasped all the theory, after all, there wasn't much of it, the main thing here was reflexes, experience and dexterity, which Potter decided to practice every day. Not that it would be of much use to him in the world of magic. But why not?
He bought different knives to diversify his self-harm. Some of them are probably illegal in Britain. Well, that's beside the point.
Sirius Black escaped this year. If you consider the Headmaster's plan, he's likely to turn out to be innocent. You need someone Harry can get attached to, and he realizes that very well. Smart grandfather, that Headmaster, after all. The first person in Potter's memory that he doesn't call "fishy."
Patronus spell. Harry still didn't understand what was so "super complicated" about it. But he saved his godfather. You can't let the Headmaster down.
He had his own pet fish.
The Headmaster had saved the tournament for fourth year. Potter really didn't want to participate. It would take up his free time, which was getting shorter and shorter every year.
Once again, his brain was lacking in workload. Harry had gone through the entire Hogwarts program by the end of his third year.
The itching was increasing.
He started smoking and cutting himself almost regularly.
And then there's that dumbass Ron who smeared his favorite robe. And that curly-haired... Heron? Herma? Keeping track. Naive. Although she does seem to be a little smarter than the other fish. Memory's not three seconds, it's four. Ha-ha. Well, let him watch. It's no harm to him.
The brain needed activity. Potter was annoyed. A lot of things were piling up and he needed an outlet for his emotions.
There was a French girl who surprised Harry. Very much so. She was obviously smarter than the others. And she understood what he understood. Even though outwardly she was merely asking for bouillabaisse, she was actually testing to see if he would stare at her like those fish around them. Honestly, he would start staring. As much as he was morally older than his entourage, hormones were hormones. He replied politely, of course, and served the right dish to the lady, but he showed a sneer with his eyes. She caught it. Probably took offense. A little disappointed in him.
Partly, though, Harry was grateful to her. She was an unsolved mystery to him. Something he could keep his brain occupied with. And judging by the looks she was throwing at him, it felt similar.
When the fourth, unexpected, note fell out of the goblet, Harry realized what was in it. Everything that had been building up inside him had found its way out.
I think it's time to show the fish who's the fisherman.
