Wacky Wizards
Harry Potter had always been a weird boy, a freak as his relatives would say, things would always happen around him. He was a lot younger when he found out he could speak to snakes.
He was seven, the sun shining down on him, making his skin sickingly sweaty, though dry at the same thing. It was a horrible feeling, the ratty shirt that barely hung to his frame sticking to his back. His hands covered in dirt, it covering the under of his nails as he used what once was a high quality trowel, was now bearly hanging on. He mostly used his hands, he had asked for a new one bit that hadn't gone down well. His skin was blistering and an angry red colour, he hated the summers. He'd much rather be doing this out in the cold. He wiped away the sweat dripping from his forehead as he heard a hiss, which strangely sounded like words.
"Ssstupid young one, easy prey" The garden snake hissed, startling Harry.
"You can speak!" he exclaimed, not realising the change of language, for him it just sounded like English.
"Foolish ssspeaker, I cannot sspeak your tongue, you are a ssssnake" It made its way over to Harry, curling around his arm, which made the boy slightly uncomfortable. The snake could've been venomous for all he knew.
"Sso this iss not English?" He asked, his s (ess) more overexaggerated than most who spoke the serpants tongue as he was young and inexperienced.
"Of course not young sspeaker, you have a rare talent." Harry thought he'd seen the snake roll its eyes, but snakes couldn't do that, could they? He must've just been imagining things as always. He had always had a wild mind.
That was Harry's first encounter with a snake, the one where he learnt of his gift, or freakishness as the Dursleys would've called it, though he'd never tell them. He'd was too scared to, they disliked anything that wasn't perfectly normal.
There had been a few more instances of something weird happening around Harry, whether it be him turning his teachers hair blue or someone getting onto the roof of the school. It always got back to the Dursleys, and he would be punished severely. The only thing that hadn't was his snake, it was his way of rebelling against them. It gave him a sense of freedom, even if they didn't even know the snake existed.
Harry awoke in his cupboard, curled up in his far too small cupboard. It was pitch black, the only thing that stopped him from not seeing anything was the light that seeped through the cracks. For it being summer, it was only cold. The only thing covering him was a small ratty blanket, the same one he'd used since he could remember. The cupboard whilst small, held a lot. From the cleaning supplies to Harry's primary school books, which would no longer be needed as soon he was to start highschool.
His snake, Ivar, curled around his arm, still resting. He went to push the cupboard door, it was locked. It was obviously quite early, aunt Petunia normally woke him around 6 to get breakfast started for the giant oafs he was to call his cousin and uncle. He peeked through the cracks, it was still quite dark outside. He estimated it was around 4am, maybe even 5am.
"Ivar? Please get off my arm, I need to move." His arm was going numb, recently Ivar had been growing, when he'd first met him he was quite small, but now he could wrap around Harry's arm. He would wrap around Harrys torso in the day, his baggy clothes stopping the snake from being seen.
"Go back to sssleep, young ssnake, you need your rest to grow." The snake complied, complaining whilst doing so. He slithered from his arm, up his sleeve and wrapped around his torso. He was always with Harry, mainly because Harry produced enough body warmth for the both of them.
"I need to get up sssoon anyway, now where did I put my glasses?" He hissed, frantically grabbing at things, trying to feel his glasses. Sitting up, he reached for the wall, finding his glasses hanging off a nail. His glasses sat uncomfortably on his face, making his eyes seem bigger. They weren't even the right prescription, though they did help him see a bit better.
"You really need new onesss" Ivar was unpleased, his head peaking out of the neck of Harrys shirt. "You also sstink."
Harry knew he wasn't the cleanest person, but there was no need to be so rude about it. Harry had never been able to wash properly, from not being taught and because he was only allowed five minute cold showers. He stood at 4'5, below average for his age, his stunted growth caused by both malnutrition and his time in his cupboard. His cupboard also being the reason for his deteriorating eyesight, the dark, small space not allowing him to develop properly. A nest of wild black curls, with the occasional auburn lock sat on his head. It was uncared for, matted in places, caked with both dirt and blood.
He reached, stroking the head of his snake. "Ssshut up you, you also don't have the most pleasant smell. I wish there was a light in here, there's nothing to do." He sighed, frowning.
It took a while but he could finally hear the sound of footsteps, they were light and unhearable to most people. But Harry wasn't most people, he had heightened senses. The footsteps got closer and closer, before they stopped outside of his cupboard. There was some fumbling with the lock before the blinding light hit his face, his eyes ached from the sudden change as he scrambled to get out of the cupboard.
"Out, hurry!" Petunia, his aunt, hurried him out, rushing him to the kitchen. She turned her nose in disgust. "Wash your hands. After cooking go take a shower. I won't have you embarrassing me boy!" She scowled.
Harry scurried to do as he was told, firstly to the fridge to get what he needed. He was going to cook a full english, though instead of grilled tomatoes and mushrooms the Dursleys preferred hash browns. Though in his years of staying with the Dursleys he had never seen Petunia ever even eat half of what her son does.
He scrubbed the dirt off his hands, it washing away down the sink as he dried then off on the dish towel. He finally got started with the cooking, he was used to the oil spitting, his arms were evidence enough of that. They were littered in burns in all stages of healing, most were bad enough to forever leave a mark. Petunia hovered over the boy, with her pinched face morphing into disapproval as Harry overcooked an egg. She slapped him round the head. Harry curled in on himself, not being able to bear looking at her
"Look at me when I speak to you boy! Ungrateful, just like your mother." He quickly turned his head, looking up at her with his wide eyes. Eyes that pained Petunia to see, the vibrant green only ever seen on one other person. "We have clothed you, fed you and put a roof on your head and you cant even do one simple things! What do you think you're at boy?! Do it again." She ordered, this time continuing to check to see he did it right.
Once he'd finished he put his head down, making his way upstairs and to the bathroom where he undressed. It was always something he hated, having to look at himself. His poked out ribs littered in all types of wounds, most being from Dudley and his little gang. He just wanted to get over this, scrubbing at his unclean skin. Patches were lighter than others, from when he was made to scrub it with bleach. No one else in the area looked like him, he was different. His aunt blamed it on his father, said he was 'one of them', whatever that meant he knew it wasn't good.
He decided to take a risk, using little of the shampoo and even conditioner to clean his hair. He knew he wasn't allowed it, but he didn't think Petunia would notice. It helped the dirt wash away quicker, giving his hair a bit of a shine. Once he got out of the shower he grabbed a ripped piece of cloth, he wasn't allowed to use the nice towels, to dry himself off. Putting on his clothes, he noticed how they clung to his skin, he wasn't able to fully dry off. He knew Petunia would be up soon to force him out of the bathroom.
He heard movement outside the door, quickly hurrying to unlock the door and go back downstairs. It was Dudley, the boy pushed past him, running down the stairs. It nearly made him fall over, he was careful to keep his balance before returning to the kitchen to stand in the corner. The Dursleys liked to let him smell the food, but never eat. Surprisingly he was met by a small plate being shoved into his hands, the egg he'd failed to cook properly on top of a burnt piece of toast.
"You should be grateful you're even getting that boy, after all the trouble you've caused me." She talked down to him, not even looking at him before she went over to her 'perfect little Dudders' who was demanding orange juice.
He heard loud thudding. It was Vernon. The whale of a man was stomping down the stairs and into the kitchen, not even noticing Harry before going to sit down infront of his food. The man tucked into his food. "Its amazing as always dear." He said, placing a wet kiss on Petunias cheek.
Harry couldn't help but be repulsed by the man, it nearly put him off his food. But he was far too hungry to not eat, and even if he didn't it would end in punishment. Its happened before. He slowly started to eat his food, the toast was dry and chewy, but also burnt. It was like it had been left out for days. He could only eat his egg and half the toast before his stomach was full, he pocketed the other half. There was the sound of mail being put through the door.
"Dudley go get that." Vernon said, not looking up from his food he'd nearly finished.
"But dad! I'm eating" he whined "Go make Harry do it!"
"Boy go get the mail!" He barked out. From all Harry could remember he doesn't think Vernon had ever called him by his name, it was always boy or freak, he even thought it was his name until he had began primary school.
"Of course, uncle Vernon." He said, walking to go get the mail, looking it over. There was something strange among the bunch though, a letter addressed to him. He quickly pocketed it before making his way back to the kitchen, putting the rest on the kitchen table.
"Back to the cupboard boy!" When he turned to see Harry still there he yelled "NOW!" Harry quickly ran, shoving himself back into the dark box he called his room. He made sure the door was closed before opening the letter. He opened the little hatch, allowing some light into the room.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress