Living with family, Harry Evans thinks, could be worse. Probably. It isn’t all that great, to be sure, but it’s something. He has a roof over his head most days, food to eat (however sparingly), and running water at all times thanks to the garden hose. Though he has his chores, he can usually go to the library and read when he has time, as Dudley is quite allergic to silence and academic reading. Harry also finds peace in gardening, as the toads will hang around him when it rains and the snakes are utter gossips. It’s as good a life as he can remember having, as long as he doesn’t idle inside the house for longer than a minute or two. Sometimes, the neighbours even ask him to help with their gardens, and he’ll receive a sweet or even some money for his work. As long as nobody but him knows his stash exists, he can save up a good amount - well, good for him. Dudley would call it the week’s allowance.
Of all the seasons, spring is his favourite. It’s still cloudy and rainy at times, but the air isn’t too hot or too cold on sunny days, and Aunt Petunia is more than happy to let him stay with Mrs Figg for a few hours twice a week; Wednesday afternoons and Sunday mornings, as Aunt Petunia likes to invite her friends over for tea, and Harry is not welcome at church. Mrs Figg is an odd old woman with many cats such as Tibbles, Snowy, Mr Paws, and Tufty - she has books with information most would consider hogwash, but work for Harry at least half the time - and a home that smells of cabbage.
Harry has learned a great many things from the books in her house, such as the proper way to thicken sauces (tap the side of the pot thrice in quick succession with a wooden spoon), and the proper way to catch toads as well as which fruits go off the fastest (raspberries) and why. Other such information includes when to put the flour before the eggs (never, if you’re Harry; Aunt Petunia seems to be exempt from this rule and can do it in whichever order she pleases) and how to become friends with the cats in one’s neighbourhood. Her books have had the added effect of making Harry as superstitious as an old woman who lives alone after the death of her husband who gets no visitors and rarely leaves her home, not that he’ll act on said superstitions if anyone is watching. It also means that Harry’s cooking skills are just around that of a middle-aged housewife.
Mrs Figg, for all her strangeness, is also not the only reason Harry can be considered strange; the snakes, or at least the travelling ones, will occasionally tell him of several special words. The few that Harry knows only work partially, though they are very useful. Scorgify, Aloha-mora, and Loom-os can be quite the time savers. Scorgify (Harry is never quite sure how to pronounce the words, as the snake language is fickle and strange, but he does his best) speeds up cleaning, Aloha-mora will unlock locks at least seven times out of ten, and Loom-os makes it easier to see in the dark.
Eventually, when Harry is eleven, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon decide that Harry is going to be going to a boarding school for troubled boys. They decide to ship him off early, just to rub it in, so Harry is dropped off at the station as soon as school ends with his case.
The funny thing about being dropped off at the station is that while he’s there, waiting to be carted off, two boys with red hair appear as if they’d just walked out of a stone wall nearby. Harry tries not to make it obvious that he’s staring, but the boys - twins - are laughing and smiling as they drag their trolleys away, looking happy and free. Harry is so spellbound by the sheer joy on their faces that Harry can’t help but cross over to see what’s on the other side of the stone wall. It’s like Narnia, almost, the way the wall gives way to a different station. Nine and three quarters, the sign says.
None of the adults in strange, colourful robes nor the children with a variety of strange pets seem to notice him. In fact, the station is starting to clear out, and the big red train starts to leave the station. Harry feels panic rip through him for some reason, like the train is his last chance at true freedom, and runs up and grabs the guard rail to the end of the train. Adrenaline courses through him as he manages to get himself and his luggage up on the train, hiding before anyone can see him. From the lack of yelling, nobody does see him, or at least nobody cares.
Then, after a moment, Harry wonders what he’d just done. He’s on a train he didn’t have a ticket for that’s going somewhere he doesn’t know with nothing but a small case of clothes and school supplies. Harry thanks his lucky stars that he has a chain for his glasses in case they fall off due to the wind.
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon will never see him again. This is most likely a good thing, as Harry doesn’t enjoy being hit in the head with a pan, but Harry is ten (almost eleven). He doesn’t know if he can survive on his own, since he doesn’t have any money. Harry isn’t sure if it’s good or bad that he doesn’t have any other reasons to worry about his survival.
Anyhow, Harry will most likely have a lot more time until he has to get off, so he might as well think about where he could be going. The red-headed twins seemed to be a few years older, and seeing as there were so many young people and parents, he’s most likely going to be heading toward a very strange boarding school indeed. Harry most likely won’t attend, seeing as he isn’t a student there, but at least he has somewhere to go if he can’t make it on his own. So. He has half a plan now. Get off the train when it stops, hopefully before anyone sees him, then find somewhere to live. Hopefully it won’t be too difficult, but either way, he’d rather live on his own than get help from strangers in this odd place he’s happened upon or go back and face Aunt Petunia’s wrath. Anyways, this is going to be his life now.
When the train stops before a large castle Harry assumes to be the school, he scampers off into the bushes as a large man stomps around at the station. He manages to walk around the very large lake until he’s a little ways away from the school. That night, he sleeps near the comically large sewer grate due to the rain, but it woken up by a strange voice.
[Freshhhh food,] the voice croons, and after a moment, Harry realizes that the speaker is a snake.
[I’m not food,] Harry replies.
The big snake slithers forward, coming closer. Harry watches the snake - which is several times larger than him - comes up to him from behind the sewer grate, eyes closed. [Sssspeaker? At Hogwartssss?]
[Well, er, I am speaking to you, but I haven’t the faintest idea what a hog warts is.] explains Harry, who honestly should be scared of the giant snake, but he’s also ten and has read many fantasy books with talking animals. [Is your sewer clean?]
[Hogwartsss isss the cassstle-ssschool. The little sssspeaker is welcome in the Chamberssss of Ssslytherin,] the snake tells him, rather helpfully. [The Chambersss are cleaner than the sssewer.]
So, Harry follows the giant snake down the sewer, into a chamber with pools of water and a lot of snake imagery. As instructed by the snake, he manages to find a door, to which a hallway and a few rooms are attached. It’s a little creepy, but much better than Harry had expected, especially since he had resigned himself to living in the wilderness for the rest of his life.
[What’s your name?] he asks the snake, as he moves to explore the rooms. [I’m Harry. Harry Evans.]
[Little Master called me Ashra.] the snake answers.
And that’s that.
-
Finding edible plants in a school is a difficult task. The greenhouses have plants, sure, but they’re all magical plants, and Harry isn’t eager to see what new and exciting effects they’ll have on his person if ingested. So, he climbs through the sewer system to the kitchen, and sees… small, bat-like people. There are two, as he notices from beyond the grate, and they seem to be engrossed in their work. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a sack of potatoes - potatoes grow in nearly any conditions, so Harry decides that if he’s going to start a garden, potatoes would be best. Opening the grate as quietly as he can, Harry uses one of his new special words, Accio. The sack of potatoes and a stray knife fly slowly towards the grate as Harry’s head starts to ache from using such a strong word, and he closes the grate behind him.
Harry breathes a silent sigh of relief at the knowledge that the bat gremlins haven’t seen him, and climbs back through the sewers with the knife and the bag of potatoes.
Potatoes are relatively easy to grow. Cut off a few of the potatoes into separate eyes, then leave them to dry for a few days, preventing rot. Harry leaves them in the Sewer Greenhouse - it has sunlight and everything. After that, he goes outside the sewer to look for more edible plants. He actually succeeds in finding wild garlic and elderberries, which is an awfully good haul for his first day. He also manages to nick a pot and a pan from the kitchen once his headache goes away, as well as a few other non-perishables.
So, that night, Harry has potatoes with wild garlic and salt for dinner. It’s not the worst thing he’s ever tasted, and considering the fact that he hasn’t eaten in little over a day, he feels that this may be one of the best tasting meals he’s had in ages. The potatoes will give him enough energy for the next day, at the very least. Afterwards, he goes to the library in the sewer and picks up the first book that seems even mildly legible to him; The Guide to Darke Wands by… some name Harry isn’t going to even try to pronounce. It seems to have been placed more recently than the rest, so Harry guesses it belonged to Ashra’s Little Master.
Wands, he learns, are magical conduits. The author believes that they are tools first and foremost, and that a good wix (Harry doesn’t have a clue what that means, but he’s going to assume that’s what he is) shouldn’t rely on one, though they’re good to have around. The best wixen make their own wands when they grow out of their first ones. There’s a note, presumably from Little Master, saying that the idea of each wix having to make their own wand is idiotic. Harry isn’t sure which is right, but seeing as he doesn’t have a wand at all, he decides that he might as well make one. He puts that on his list of things to do and goes to sleep.
When he wakes up the next morning, he takes the book with him to go find the right tree in the forest after snacking on some elderberries. Finding the right tree, Harry soon finds, is very difficult. It’s around noon when he finally finds a holly bush that seems at least a little willing to go along with his project. He gets a fair few scratches in the process, but once he’s done, he has his wood and spends the afternoon whittling it down by the lake. As for the core, however… that’s a bit less straight forward.
[Ashra, you’re a magical creature, right?] Harry asks the giant serpent later that day. [I need a core for the wand I’m making, and I was hoping I could borrow something of yours to make it with.]
[…Ssstupid boy. The only thing you could take isss my fang, and you would need glovesss to handle it.] Ashra responds.
Well, that puts a damper on his plans for the moment, but Harry is nothing if not resourceful. He asks the garden snakes of the area about it, and they point him to the one they call the big-big-human-giant’s hut. So, Harry sneaks in and out with the gloves, and manages to make the wand on his fifth day out at Hog’s Warts or whatever the school is named.
Holding the shoddily made want, Harry takes a breath. Then, he points the wand, and - “Loom-os.”
A small light erupts from the tip of the wand. Well, he thinks to himself, that’s… a bit disappointing, but it makes sense since the book said that wands were only a tool. So, Harry pockets his wand, and resolves to worry about it later. He has potatoes to plant, after all. Still, after he plants his potatoes, he has nothing at all to do.
In the face of such boredom, Harry steals a book from the castle’s library; A Muggleborn’s Guide to Basic Potions. With this, he finally understands why cooking has so many more rules for him than it does for Aunt Petunia, and more; which ingredients can do what, and all that. Harry makes detailed notes on the process and information before unstealing the book - actually, it was a library anyways, so he borrowed it. That book is also the reason Harry Evans starts growing magical plants in the Sewer Greenhouse, though certainly not to the same extent as the potatoes.
-
The first potion Harry Evans ever makes is a fertilizer. He does his research, of course; what will and won’t work together, what will help bring in a larger harvest, that sort of thing. So, he brings the cauldron to a low boil, and adds some minced potato eyes. Next, he adds some powdered bone (ethically sourced from Ashra’s part of the sewer) and lets it boil for five minutes, give or take a few seconds. Afterwards, he crushes a beetle he found for this very purpose, chopping up the pieces and adding it to the potion. He taps the side of the cauldron once with his wand, then proceeds to stir the watery green contents clockwise. Then, he lets it sit for an hour, before pouring some of it onto the potato plant he separated from the rest for the experiment, bottling the rest.
Somehow, by the next day, the plant is two inches taller - the potion worked. Harry makes sure to test it properly a few more times before using it on his other potato plants, but seeing as his first harvest goes well, he ends up using it for the rest of them too. Since he’s not a complete arse, he gives both the bat gremlins and the man in the hut who he has yet to see their own bags of potatoes, adding apology letters as well.
The next morning, a plate of eggs and bacon appears on his table, so he guesses that the apology to the bat gremlins in the kitchens was fairly well-received; he decides that he might as well try to make it a more regular thing, and gives them another bag of potatoes the next week, writing a letter of thanks and inquiring as to whether or not they’d like to make a trade agreement; potatoes and whatever other crops Harry grows in the sewers in exchange for breakfasts, various ingredients that Harry can’t grow, and seeds.
With that, Harry’s first business transaction is finalized, and he gets a free breakfast every day he spends in the sewers under Hogwarts. The house elves (he only learns what they are after one writes a badly spelt letter to show their consent to the deal) also bring him things without him even having to ask, which is very much appreciated; all in all, one of the best decisions he could have made. He also makes a deal with the owner of the Hog’s Head so he can make a little money (a few galleons is how they phrase it), but that’s a much less interesting deal by far.
-
Really, time does fly when there’s always something to do; before he knows it, the school year creeps up on him and things are in utter chaos for the poor house elves. Harry gives them an extra bag of potatoes and some carrots just to help them out, and the house elves promise to give him the welcoming feast’s leftovers. As the welcoming feast is underway, Harry is speaking to Ashra about a particular student.
[It’s Little Master,] she hisses, by way of explanation. [He isss sssmaller than he wasss, and he does not remember… but to me, it issss clear. That isss the Little Master that sssent me after that annoying girl.]
Harry stays very carefully silent at that, already having known about Moaning Myrtle. [Is destiny set in stone? Will he hurt anyone, or get you to hurt anyone again?]
Ashra shakes her head. [You ssspeak. He ssspeaks. Two ssspeakers, and I can choose which to follow.]
[Promise me you won’t kill anyone again, unless it’s in self-defence.]
[…I only shall promise asss long ass you ssstay in the castle-school.] she bargains.
And, in the end, that’s good enough for Harry. So how to try to convince this ‘Little Master’ not to hurt anyone… well, the boy is eleven, and hasn’t done anything wrong (to Harry’s knowledge). So, Harry decides that the best way to distract him is with a harmless prank; getting one of the more mischievous house-elves to put a potato under his pillow every night. Props to Floosie for helping him on this one; Harry will most certainly appreciate the commitment Floosie has for this prank for years to come.
In other news, Harry does actually manage to see some of the professors, though they can’t say the same for him. Sprout seems like a good teacher, and reminds him of one of his favourite teachers, while Quirrel is a bit of a nutcase. Flitwick seems like a jolly old man. Otherwise, he has no opinions on the rest, except for the potions professor. Snape is the only one Harry could learn from if he so wished, as there’s a grate in his classroom. Sometimes, Harry can be found writing notes on the lessons when Snape says anything particularly informative about the ingredients or process.
One thing to note about the grate is the fact that it is right near one Tom Riddle’s seat in potions; another is the fact that Harry has been speaking in parseltongue so that nobody notices his muttering. On occasion, Harry will also mutter about his potatoes and the general farming business he’s created.
Unbeknownst to him, Tom Riddle has put up a conspiracy board in the dorm room he shares with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Riddle’s current theory on the Potato Conspiracy is that someone is pranking him, though it will soon change to the idea that a Potato God is slumbering beneath Hogwarts and he’s the chosen apostle of said Potato God. Malfoy believes that Riddle is barmy, while Zabini is simply enjoying the chaos.
Anyhow, back to Harry; he’s just minding his business for a good while until Hallowe’en, when he hears Quirrel scream “TROLL! TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!” and remembers hearing a girl crying in the washroom only minutes earlier. He goes through the sewers just to check if she’s alright, but instead, he smells what can only be the stench of a troll coming toward the washroomm. So, Harry points his wand at the grate and unlocks it wordlessly; he can either do it without the wand or without the words, not both just yet.
The troll - a foul smelling, ugly creature - notices the girl. Still, as it raises its club, Harry has just enough time to dart over and grab the girl, yanking her over into the grate with him, locking it.
The girl stares.
Harry stares back. “…There was a troll in the dungeons.”
“There still very much seems to be a troll!” she hisses, voice shrill and panicked, which is fair.
“Well, yes, but it’s not in the dungeons anymore.” he points out. There’s a loud clang as the troll takes a swing at the grate with its club - Harry and the girl both flinch, before he takes her hand and pulls her through the sewer system, away from any possible troll encounters.
“Hey!” she whisper-yells, as he pulls her along. “Who are you?!”
Harry makes an abrupt stop. They’re in the area opposite the troll now, and with a smattering of footsteps, one of the teachers rushes up and lobs a spell at the thing; it goes down. So, he turns to her. “Don’t tell them about me. Say you got in here yourself.”
She takes a moment to blink in surprise.
In a flash, Harry scampers away, hoping the girl can make a sufficient amount of noise for the teachers to hear her and let her out. As much as he would rather not let anyone stay in his sewer, he would also prefer not to be found, and the troll was unconscious the last time he checked; she’d probably be fine.
Later, he does check to see if she’s still in the sewer, but seeing as she isn’t and the bathroom has been repaired, Harry assumes that all went well.
-
Two days later, Harry finds the girl attempting to get through the end of the sewer that he had opened those four or five months ago to get into the Chambers. She’s trying spells, but as far as Harry is aware, the only way to get through is with parseltongue. So, he watches the head of frizzy hair bob as she fails to get in for a few minutes straight before he comes closer.
“You can’t get in from that side,” he informs her.
“You! I have so many questions!” she proclaims, coming as close as she can without touching the grate. “But why on earth are you in the sewer?! It’s - it’s unsanitary!”
Harry pauses. “…Why do I have to tell you that?”
The girl gapes at his statement, floundering for an answer when she really doesn’t have one. She looks vaguely irritated at this fact, glaring pointedly at him. “But, but - I’ll tell the teachers about you!”
“I’ve grown every potato anyone has eaten at Hogwarts for the past few months. Do you really think that’ll help?” he asks, praying for her to buy into his bluff.
She huffs, but seems to believe him. “I’m Hermione Granger. And I’d really like to know why you’re in a secret sewer under Hogwarts. Can you tell me anything?”
“I grow potatoes and a few other crops. The sewer is also cleaner than you might think, for the most part.” he tells Hermione. “Other than you, none of the students know about me. The teachers do,” he lies, “and the house elves.”
Hermione narrows her eyes. “The what?”
“The house elves.” he reiterates. “What, did you think the food just… appeared out of nowhere?”
“I- well, the magical world doesn’t exactly make sense, you know!” Hermione argues, successfully proving her point. The magical world doesn’t make sense; that’s why it’s called magic and not advanced science.
“Fair enough. Anyhow, house elves are short little things with ears like a bat and bulging eyes; they clean and cook and do chores in exchange for magic. The Hogwarts elves take magic from the school itself.” Harry explains. “I thought it was rather strange, but the house-elves seem happy enough to me.”
Hermione looks upset at that, as though he’s said something wrong. “But - but that’s like slavery!”
“But they need the castle’s magic to survive,” he points out. “So how would you make a better system? I agree that treating them well is important, but otherwise, it’s not like we can do much. Besides, I used to do stuff like that all the time. Didn’t you?”
She shakes her head slowly. “…No. My parents said that children didn’t have to cook.”
“Well, you’re weird.” he tells her bluntly. “Or, at least, your parents are.”
“I don’t… I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Hermione responds, brow furrowing as she decides to express her feelings. “So, er… what else do you do here?”
Harry pauses. “Sometimes I listen to classes from the sewers and read books from the library.”
“And nothing - erm. Nothing else?” she ventures, eye twitching.
“Well, do you do much else? Other than going to classes, reading books, and doing your normal routine?” Harry asks, knowing that the answer is no. From what he’s heard during his listening-in on classes, Hermione isn’t the most popular of girls, and her attitude all but confirms it. She’s not mean, per se, but she comes off as someone who fancies themself better than others. “I’m just doing it without all that many people knowing.”
“But that - you aren’t even being graded! Why are you in a school if you don’t even learn properly?!” she asks, steadily growing red at the idea of Harry wasting resources that could be used elsewhere - at least, that’s what Harry assumes. “Y-you’re like a rat! Or a leech!”
Harry is annoyed by this, but decides that he won’t have a temper tantrum because of it. Being angry doesn’t solve anything. “And you’re a prissy little princess. Without me, you wouldn’t have potatoes; what do you contribute?”
“You- you!” she splutters, tears being brought to her eyes by his bluntness. “I’m a student! I’m not supposed to-“
“If I’m a rat, I’m a productive rat; I get things done! If you were a rat, you’d think that scrounging for scraps was too good for you, and die!” He snaps. “Be angry! I don’t care! I have better things to do with my time than care about what you think of me!”
Hermione lets out an angry sob, one that almost makes Harry regret his words. “H-how about this? We’ll duel, and I’ll be better, and that’ll show you!”
“Good luck with that,” he says venomously. Harry decides to oblige her, because he has nothing better to do than fight, and lets her into the sewer - he did, of course, make sure that Ashra didn’t come in and scare her by making Ashra promise not to get near any people.
Since Harry doesn’t cary about the rules, he has Hermione tell them to him.
“First,” Hermione tells him imperiously, “you bow, as a sign of respect.”
“Do we respect each other?” he asks.
Her eyes narrow. “No.”
“Then we should get on with it.” Harry decides. “On three.”
One.
Hermione readies her wand, and purses her lips. There’s a fire in her eyes that looks to be new. She isn’t used to being angry, so she can’t control herself when she is. Harry’s honed the art of not being angry, or in extreme cases, retaliating in only undetectable ways.
Two.
A leech. A rat. Harry is a problem child, and he knows it.
Three.
“Expelliarmus!” Hermione yells, waving her wand at him.
Within the time it takes her to say that, Harry abandons his own wand and thrusts his hand out, looking behind her for something to hit her with. “Accio rock,” he whispers, and Hermione is hit in the back before she manages to grab his wand.
As she stumbles to her feet, Hermione whips her wand at him, eyes blazing. “Diffindo!”
The spell slices through Harry’s cheek, but he doesn’t flinch away. He uses the same spell on the rock, but Hermione sidesteps it - however, she loses her footing, falling into the sewage at their side with a splash.
Shit. Does Harry have to help her? She doesn’t seem to be doing very well with swimming. Well, as Harry steps closer, she seems to get it, and digs her nails into the path next to the sewage, bringing herself back up and collapsing to her knees.
“Hermione, are you-“ he tries-
Another spell is lobbed at him, a Wingardium Leviosa. Still, Hermione can’t keep it up for more than a second before she starts coughing up a lung, trying to get the sewage waste out of her throat. Harry is lifted up a few inches then dropped back down within seconds, stumbling as he rights himself.
It takes a few more minutes to make sure that Hermione is alright.
“That was a shit duel on both our parts.” he says.
“Brilliant deduction! My being covered in sewage wasn’t enough of an indicator?!” she grits out, eye twitching. “And I don’t even know the cleaning spell! Oh, god, I must stink…”
“You do.” he agrees without question. “How about we try this again next week?”
“…Fine.” Hermione glowers, giving him the stink eye.
And that is how Harry gets a duelling partner who is equal parts insufferable and quite honestly very dedicated to anything she puts her mind to, including beating Harry in everything she can. Harry also learns that teaching each other is fun sometimes when Hermione isn’t subtly calling him an idiot, and so he learns the cutting spell and the levitating spell from her, while she does her best to use wandless magic. It works some of the time, but only barely, as she can get a stone only a few inches off the ground before her magic fizzles out.
This fact becomes very problematic for one Tom Riddle when, the next year, she beats him in a duel and sends him into one of many existential crises.