Disclaimer: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter, the characters are all a property of JK Rowling.
Authors Note(Please Read): This story is purely my interpretation of how things could go if Harry had a little bit more of James and Lily's intelligence, remember for all of the pranking and bullying claims against James, he was rather smart, he had become an animagus without any adult help with only Sirius to help him. He was also most likely an instrumental part in the making of the Marauders Map and the communication mirrors Sirius and James used during detentions. I will address his supposed bullying in a later author's note when Snape comes into the picture or as a part of the story in a conversation with Sirius so that we can get the POV of the Marauders and not just Snape. Lily's personality and intelligence is generally accepted, so not much to comment there, Harry was smart enough to puzzle out multiple things throughout his years at Hogwarts, his being unwilling to apply himself could be down to the conditioning years with the Dursleys has on him, this story will attempt to correct some of them, this will have your usual tropes of Lordships, ancient houses etc. There will be bashing but it will not be indiscriminate senseless bashing, this isn't an evil Dumbledore story, he is just an old man who is too set in his ways and has become so used to everyone believing his words as gospel that he always thinks he knows best. Any comments with valid criticism even if it is just to question my writing style, my opinions are welcome but remember there is always a line, criticism is sometimes the greatest boon anybody can have, but the moment it becomes abuse, all it does is show the abuser to be a shallow fool who has no other outlet beyond hiding behind a random account and hurling words. With all that said, in the words of Fabrizio Romano - HERE WE GO!
Chapter 1 Discovery
On a hot June evening, six-year-old Harry found himself sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him, desperate to escape from Dudley and his gang of friends. The oppressive heat of the evening sun beat down on him, making the air thick and stifling, but fear gave wings to his feet, propelling him forward with a sense of urgency and dread.
"Catch him!" Dudley shouted, his voice echoing menacingly through the narrow street, the sound bouncing off the brick walls and amplifying the threat. "The freak is gonna get it today!"
"Let's spread out across the lane so he can't hide," suggested Piers, his voice dripping with malicious glee and anticipation.
'Oh no,' Harry thought, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized his escape route was blocked by the advancing bullies, their shadows stretching long in the fading light. Panic surged through him, bringing back memories of all the other times he had been caught and subjected to Dudley and his gang's merciless thrashings. He frantically searched for an escape, his eyes darting around, and his gaze landed on an alleyway. Without thinking, he dashed into it, only to discover to his dismay that it was a complete dead end. The walls towered over him, trapping him with no way out except the way he had come.
'I'm stuck,' Harry realized in despair, his breathing growing shallow and rapid. 'I need to get away from here.' He scanned his surroundings for any possible hiding place, his mind racing with fear and desperation. He knew that if he got caught, the punishment would be severe. His breathing grew ragged, and he felt his legs starting to give way under him, the adrenaline beginning to wear off. Closing his eyes, he wished with all his might to be somewhere, anywhere, that Dudley and his friends couldn't find him. Just as he felt his strength waning,
"Crack!" A sudden, sharp noise pierced the air, and Harry felt a squeezing sensation engulf him. Before he knew it, he found himself on the roof of a building, the world below him spinning slightly from the unexpected journey. Panting from exertion and the shock of the sudden movement, he looked around in amazement, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
'Where am I?' he wondered, his breath coming in short gasps, the cool breeze on the rooftop a stark contrast to the stifling heat below. He looked down at the street below and recognized the familiar layout of his school's grounds. He was on the school's rooftop. 'I got away,' he thought with a mixture of relief and disbelief, as the sound of Dudley's angry shouts faded into the distance. Feeling a surge of giddiness, he began to piece together what had happened. Cornered in the alleyway with no escape, he had somehow ended up on the school's roof. This wasn't the first time something strange had happened around him. He recalled the incident when his teacher's hair turned blue while she was scolding him because Dudley had destroyed his homework.
Sitting down to catch his breath, Harry thought, 'I did something freakish again. I can't let Aunt Petunia find out or I'll be thrown into my cupboard without dinner.' He glanced around, trying to figure out how to get down from the rooftop. 'Now, how do I get out of here?' he pondered, feeling a mix of dread and curiosity. The prospect of being stuck on the roof was daunting, but the fear of what awaited him if he didn't find a way down was even worse.
Later, the principal called Vernon and Petunia, reporting that Harry had been found on the roof with the entrance door locked. The principal accused Harry of climbing to the top of the school building. Vernon and Petunia exchanged a worried glance, knowing that Harry was too small and weak to have climbed up there on his own. They suspected his "freakishness" was the cause.
Once the Dursleys and Harry arrived home, Harry braced himself for the inevitable punishment. He knew that being called into the principal's office and making the Dursleys come to fetch him would earn him a beating and another day without dinner. As the front door closed behind him, he saw Petunia's face twisted in fear, her eyes wide as she murmured, "Like my sister," and, "He shouldn't be able to do it this young." He turned to Vernon, whose face had turned an alarming shade of purple, the vein on his forehead throbbing ominously, indicating the storm that was about to break.
"BOY! What do you think you were doing, using your freakishness? I'm done with you and your freak world!" Vernon bellowed, his voice shaking with rage and frustration.
Petunia turned to Vernon in shock, realizing he had let slip something about the wizarding world, although it wasn't much for Harry to understand. The tension between them was palpable, a mix of fear, anger, and confusion.
"Pack your things, boy. You'll be staying with Mrs. Figg for a while. You've been suspended from school for a week, and we will stay with Marge this summer so we won't have to see you until September," Petunia declared, her voice cold and determined, leaving no room for argument.
Harry's heart sank as he trudged upstairs to gather his things. He knew that his stay with Mrs. Figg would be miserable, and the prospect of being separated from the Dursleys until September filled him with a strange mix of dread and relief. He couldn't shake the feeling that his life was about to change in ways he couldn't yet comprehend, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him.
A few hours later, Harry found himself seated in the spare room at Mrs. Figg's house, surrounded by a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The events of the day had left him grappling with a maelstrom of confusion and curiosity. From his initial yearning to escape the stifling atmosphere of Privet Drive to the startling confrontation with Petunia over Vernon's vehement rejection of the magical world, Harry's mind raced with questions. Were there others like him out there, hidden away in ordinary neighbourhoods? Where could he find them, and what would they be like? The uncertainty gnawed at him, a constant undercurrent to his thoughts.
Seeking solace and grounding, Harry reluctantly turned his attention to the simple meal laid out before him—a steaming bowl of soup and a few slices of bread, lovingly prepared by Mrs. Figg. Hunger gnawed at him, a stark reminder of his human needs amidst the chaos of discovering his extraordinary abilities. The aroma of the soup was comforting, a small beacon of normalcy in an otherwise bewildering day.
As the night ebbed away into dawn, Harry's rest was fitful and restless. He awoke with the first rays of sunlight, his body trained by years of routine to rise early. Yet this morning held a peculiar weight; uncertainty clouded his every move. Unfamiliar with Mrs. Figg's preferences, he tentatively ventured into her quaint kitchen. The fridge beckoned, its contents a mystery to him until now. He wondered what kind of food she kept, imagining rows of tins and jars, each holding some unknown delight or dread.
Casting a wary eye around the tidy kitchen, Harry's gaze landed upon an unexpected sight—a newspaper spread across the dining table. Intrigued, he approached cautiously, drawn by a moving image that danced across its pages. A man soared on a broomstick amidst a sprawling stadium, defying gravity in a breathtaking display of skill. The magical spectacle captivated Harry, momentarily eclipsing his worries. The idea of people flying on broomsticks seemed too fantastic to be real, yet here it was, right in front of him.
The abrupt sound of footsteps echoing from above shattered his reverie. Startled, Harry swiftly retreated to the sanctuary of his room, pressing himself against the door to conceal his presence. Peeking through a slender crack, he observed Mrs. Figg descending the stairs with measured steps, her presence a calming anchor amidst the storm of uncertainty. He watched her movements closely, wondering if she had any inkling of the magical world that seemed to be unfolding around him.
Yet tranquility was short-lived. A sudden crackle erupted from the fireplace, causing Harry to jump in alarm. His eyes widened as the flames flickered green, forming a portal through which a familiar face emerged, calling out to Mrs. Figg with urgency.
"Arabella," the voice echoed, its tone weighted with concern. Harry's heart raced, threatening to betray his hiding place with a startled cry. Barely managing to stifle the sound, he watched in silence as Mrs. Figg leaned closer, engaging in hushed conversation with the unexpected visitor.
"Albus, Harry displayed a startling case of accidental magic yesterday," Mrs. Figg began, her voice carrying a mix of apprehension and resolve. "He apparated onto the roof of his school. The Dursleys have abandoned him with me, disappearing off to Merlin knows where. I'm ill-equipped to care for a child of his unique needs." The worry in her voice was palpable, a reflection of the challenges she anticipated.
"My dear Arabella, don't worry about his accidental magic, I will put up some wards to ensure he can't apparate again, and I will ensure funds are swiftly transferred to your Gringotts vault for the boy's welfare" Dumbledore responded calmly, his demeanor unwavering despite the gravity of the situation. "You may need to make a discreet trip to Diagon Alley to secure necessities. Remember, it is imperative that Harry doesn't find out about the magical world for the greater good." His words were measured, carrying the weight of a plan long in the making.
"I'll do my utmost to protect him, Albus," Mrs. Figg vowed solemnly, her concern etched deeply into every line of her face. "But he appears frail, too small for his age. I fear he may require care beyond what I can provide." Her voice trembled slightly, betraying her anxiety and the burden of responsibility she felt.
"Madam Pomfrey will attend to him under cover of night in a few days' time, ensuring he sleeps peacefully while receiving the care he needs," Dumbledore assured her, his words a balm to her troubled thoughts. "Now, I must take my leave, my dear Arabella." His presence seemed to bring a measure of comfort and reassurance, if only for a moment.
With a final nod of understanding, Mrs. Figg bid Dumbledore farewell, her gaze lingering on the flickering green embers that now seemed to hold the weight of Harry's uncertain future. The Floo call disconnected, leaving a sense of anticipation hanging in the air.
As the house settled back into its quiet routine, Harry carefully closed the door behind him, his mind racing with the implications of what he had just witnessed. He decided to get ready for the day, eager to explore and uncover more about this new and mysterious world that was slowly revealing itself to him. The desire to understand what was happening around him was overpowering, fueling his determination.
Later, after finishing his lunch, Harry lay down on his bed, pretending to take a nap. He planned to sneak out when Mrs. Figg wasn't looking. When he heard the door close and her footsteps receding, he opened his eyes, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Carefully and silently, he crept to the door, opening it just enough to peek through. He watched Mrs. Figg take a pinch of powder from a pot near the fireplace and throw it into the flames. The fire turned the same unusual color as it had during her earlier conversation with Dumbledore. She then stepped into the fireplace and said, "Diagon Alley," before being whisked away.
With Mrs. Figg gone, Harry saw his chance. He stepped out of his room, a sense of determination guiding his every move, and began searching for anything that could explain the strange things he had seen over the past few hours. In the living room, he spotted the morning newspaper. He picked it up and tried to read it, but much of it was confusing and unfamiliar. As he flipped through the pages, his eyes landed on a drawing of a boy who looked eerily like himself standing in front of a castle, riding a creature with the head of an eagle and the body of a horse. He almost dropped the paper in shock when he realized it was an advertisement for a book titled "Harry Potter and the Wild Hippogriff." The advertisement announced a grand launch the next day at a place called "Flourish and Blotts" in Diagon Alley.
Harry quickly gathered himself and put the newspaper back in its place to avoid arousing suspicion. He concluded that something strange was indeed going on and decided to find an opportunity the next day to use the same fire travel method that Mrs. Figg had used to explore Diagon Alley himself. The prospect of exploring this new world was both thrilling and terrifying.
The following morning, Harry woke up early to find the sun just rising. Mrs. Figg was still fast asleep, her house quiet and peaceful. Quietly, he changed into his best-fitting clothes and made his way to the fireplace. He hesitated for a moment before taking a pinch of the powder and tossing it into the fire, just as he had seen Mrs. Figg do. He said, "Diagon Alley," and watched as the flames turned green. Tentatively, he put his foot close to the fire, expecting to feel a burning sensation, but to his surprise, it didn't burn. Encouraged, he put one foot in and then stepped through the fireplace.
It felt as though he was being sucked down a giant drain. The sensation of spinning rapidly overwhelmed him, and the deafening roar in his ears drowned out all other sounds. He tried to keep his eyes open, but the whirl of green flames made him nauseous. Something hard struck his elbow, and he quickly tucked it in, continuing to spin faster and faster. It now felt as if cold hands were slapping his face. Squinting, he caught blurred glimpses of fireplaces and the rooms beyond them. Desperately, he shut his eyes again, wishing for the ordeal to end. And then, suddenly, he was flung face-first onto a cold stone floor.
Groaning, Harry pushed himself up and got to his feet, looking around to find himself in a dimly lit tavern. The room was filled with people sitting around tables, eating and drinking. He spotted the counter and approached the man behind it, his curiosity and urgency blending into a single question.
"How do I get to Diagon Alley, sir?" Harry asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and determination.
The old man behind the counter, who introduced himself as Tom, the barman, peered down at Harry with a concerned expression. "Where are your parents, child? You shouldn't be here alone."
Thinking quickly, Harry replied, "I got lost, sir. My parents told me to find someone here and ask to be directed to Gringotts. They said they'll be able to find me there."
Tom's expression softened at Harry's explanation. "Alright, follow me. I'll show you the way." He led Harry to the entrance of the alley and used his wand to tap a few bricks, which magically opened to reveal a bustling alleyway.
Harry's eyes widened in awe as he took in the scene before him. People in flowing robes moved about, and children ran excitedly from store to store. Tom smiled at the wonder in Harry's eyes and pointed to a majestic white building that stood out from the rest at the beginning of the alley.
"That is Gringotts, child. Go there and wait in the lobby. It is run by Goblins. Be polite, they aren't very kind to humans, but they are excellent at guarding our money."
Harry nodded and made his way through the alley, marveling at the variety of shops. Some sold pets, others offered books, and still others displayed strange plant cuttings and animal parts. He passed a group of children with their faces pressed against the glass of a store, ogling a broomstick mounted on the wall. Finally, he arrived at the largest building in the alley—Gringotts.
As he stood before the imposing structure, Harry felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. The grandiose architecture and the bustling activity within the alley hinted at the vastness and mystery of the wizarding world he was only beginning to discover. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside, ready to face whatever awaited him.