HP (Harry Potter) Requests

What if harry potter thanks to being abused by the dursleys likes to give any female he comes across a wedgie to let his frustrations out:

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione sighed, "you've got to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Harry replied, feigning innocence as he shuffled through his textbooks.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You know what she means. Giving every girl in school a wedgie. It's not right."

The three of them sat in the Gryffindor common room, the warmth of the crackling fireplace creating an orange glow on their faces. The rest of the room was a buzz with students chatting and playing games, but Harry's focus remained on the parchment in front of him, trying to ignore his friends' concerns.

"It's just a little prank," Harry said, shrugging it off. "They're all right after a minute."

"A little prank?" Hermione's voice grew more stern. "It's humiliating. And it's not funny."

Harry looked up, his green eyes meeting Hermione's stern gaze. He knew she was right, but he couldn't explain why he felt the sudden urge to do it. It was like a pressure release valve for all the anger and frustration he'd held in since the summer with the Dursleys.

"Look," he said, setting his quill down, "I don't know what you guys don't get. It's just... it's a thing."

Ron leaned in, his freckles more pronounced in the firelight. "But it's not a thing here, Harry. At Hogwarts, we're all equal. We don't do that kind of stuff."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, and they all turned to see Professor McGonagall, her stern expression unwavering as she looked at the three of them. "Mr. Potter, may I have a word?" she said.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry knew he'd been caught. He had no idea how she found out, but he couldn't ignore the call. He followed her out of the common room, wondering what kind of trouble he'd be in now.

The corridor was eerily quiet as they walked, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Professor McGonagall's office was at the end, her silhouette framed by the flickering torchlight. Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Close the door, please," she said once they were inside.

Her office was as neat and orderly as ever, books lining the shelves and a large, intimidating desk between them. Harry sat in the chair across from her, his palms sweaty.

"I've had several complaints about your...behavior towards the young ladies of this school," she began, her voice cool and measured. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but the words caught in his throat. He knew he couldn't lie to her. He hadn't realized how much he'd been letting his past get to him, how much he needed to lash out.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I just..."

Professor McGonagall's gaze softened. "I understand that you've had a difficult time, Harry, but that's no excuse for treating others poorly. We need to find a better way for you to cope."

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks. He'd never thought about it that way before, about how his actions affected others. He'd been so wrapped up in his own anger that he hadn't considered the pain he was causing.

"I'll stop," he promised, his voice earnest. "I just didn't know how to deal with it."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Good. Now, I don't think this warrants a trip to the headmaster just yet, but I expect to see a significant change in your conduct."

"You will," Harry assured her, his mind racing with thoughts of how he could make amends.

As he left her office, the weight of his promise heavy on his shoulders, Harry knew he had to do better. He had to find a way to move past the Dursleys' abuse without hurting others in the process.

---

The next day, Harry found himself walking the halls with a new sense of purpose. He made a point to avoid the crowded areas where he was more likely to encounter his female classmates, his heart racing every time he saw a group of them giggling together. He knew he had to make things right, but the thought of facing their anger and embarrassment was almost too much to bear.

During lunch, he spotted a first-year Hufflepuff, her robes slightly too large, sitting alone at a corner table. He recognized her as one of his recent targets. She looked up as he approached, her eyes wide with fear. He swallowed hard and sat down across from her, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "For what I did to you. It was wrong, and I shouldn't have done it."

The girl stared at him, her cheeks flushing. "It's okay," she mumbled, clearly not believing him.

"No, it's not," Harry insisted. "I've realized that it's not funny or cool. It's just...mean."

Her expression softened slightly. "Why did you do it?" she asked.

He told her about the Dursleys, about the way they used to pick on him, and how he'd been taking his anger out in the wrong way. She listened, her eyes never leaving his, and for the first time since he'd started at Hogwarts, Harry felt truly understood.

"I know it doesn't excuse it," he finished, "but I just wanted you to know that I get it now. I won't do it again."

The girl nodded slowly, then offered a tentative smile. "Thank you for saying sorry," she said, her voice quiet.

It was a small step, but it was a start. Harry went through the rest of the week, seeking out the girls he'd wronged and apologizing sincerely. Each time, their reactions varied from shock to anger to sadness, but eventually, they all accepted his apologies. He could see the relief in their eyes, the weight lifted from their shoulders, and he felt a similar easing of the burden he'd been carrying.

But as the days passed, Harry began to realize that apologies weren't enough. He had to find a healthier outlet for his frustrations. He turned to his friends, who were more than happy to help. Ron suggested Quidditch practice, while Hermione recommended meditation and talking to Professor Dumbledore about his feelings. Harry tried both, and while he didn't find immediate solace in either, he knew he was moving in the right direction.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice session, Harry sat on the edge of his bed, sweaty and exhausted. He thought about the Dursleys, and for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel the urge to seek retribution. Instead, he felt a strange sense of pity for them, for the way they'd chosen to live their lives. He knew he was different now, that he had friends and a home where he was loved and accepted.

Looking around the warm, familiar room, Harry made a silent vow to himself. He would never let his past define him again. He would grow, learn, and become the best person he could be, not just for himself, but for the people around him. And with that realization, the need to give anyone a wedgie disappeared, replaced by a newfound determination to be the hero he was destined to become.