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Harry, the chosen one, the special one, the abandoned one
Harry, who wants to be great, to be admired, to be
free
All Harry James Potter had ever wanted was to be wanted, to be loved.
Harry was a bright boy, he knew his so called family resented him, resented every fibre of his being. As long as he could remember Harry had been trying to prove himself to them, but being the model child, the perfect son, only shone a harsher light on his precious cousin Dudley- the chosen one, If Harry out performed Dudley he was hit, if Harry could do anything better than Dudley it was soon beaten out of him and leaving him crying in the pathetic space of a cupboard under the stairs.
When Harry turned nine he stopped trying to impress them, each beating being met with a stone faced resignation and fiery defiant eyes, he studied hard, and made up for what he lacked in weight and size in speed and a sharp wit, by age ten he could run faster than Dudley and his goons, and duck away from Petunia's sharp claw like hands and Vernon's rings that left bruises that would sting and then ache for weeks. Petunia and Vernon were careful not to leave marks no one would see, after all it wouldn't do them any good to have child protection darkening their doorway and tarnishing their reputation- the one time Harry had gone to the school counselor for help Vernon has broken his arm in two places- the councillor had been convinced like everyone else Harry was a nasty story telling vindictive child and the hospital had been convinced he had simply fallen down the stairs.
By age ten Harry has stopped hoping for someone- anyone to save him, he hides his books under floorboards until he has finished everything at the school library, he watches the martial arts club the Dursleys would never pay for at lunch and practices until he moves as if he had been born ducking and weaving and he withdraws from anything social, after all, all he has ever had and all he would ever have was himself- and he would be damned if he let anyone else let him down.
And then he turns eleven and a letter comes, Vernon calls and Harry tucks it under his shirt without a moment's hesitation knowing nothing about what it is or why it came, but it was his and his alone and that the dursleys would surely only take it from him. Later in the flickering light of the half dead bulb screwed into the ceiling of the cupboard Harry found himself for the first time in a very long while with a glimmer of hope.
Harry looks at the light, looks at the people that did nothing for him, and dives into the dark, eyeing knockturn alley as Hagrid walks him past, he supposes he should feel grateful but when the large oafish man speaks of dumbledore a strange hate bubbles in him, Harry returns to diagon alley after Hagrid leaves him at the Dursleys, he walks into knockturn alley with fear in his eyes and determination in his heart and he walks out with books that hum with the power of dark magic and sharp knives that make Dudley’s swiss army look like a toy.
Gringotts is wary of the child who walks in alone in muggle clothing, who speaks like an adult jaded from war and demands for a record of his accounts- he had read the entire financial section of the library, Harry knew how these things worked. Harry potter walks out of gringotts that day with a newfound ally in the Goblin Nation, and no one knows quite how he did it but albus dumbledore is frozen out of the potter accounts and served a notice to return all artifacts and gold by September eleventh, Harry is almost as tight gripped as a goblin with what is his, and the man who had condemned him to the Dursleys would not have his fingers in it.
Harry potter goes to hogwarts and meets a redhead in his brothers shadows and sees a like soul, he meets a girl with dark curls and a mind as sharp as his own and he wonders if she can see the loneliness in him that he can see in her- she leaves before he can ask.
When “Granger, Hermione,” is called, Hermione’s logic catches up to her excitement and she realises that the sorting hat has been a part of this world for centuries and she’s only been in it for weeks, and that she wants to listen to what it has to say before asking to be placed in Gryffindor. And the hat looks, and the hat sees someone who’s always been on the outside, who has such thirst, such ambition, and who knows that she is capable of
more
. And thinks Slytherin immediately.
“Very well,” Hermione thinks. “Put me in Slytherin.
And the hat warns her that she is not choosing an easy path, that there is a reason that no muggleborn has gone to Slytherin since the time of Voldemort. It tells her that it is dangerous, and that he can put her in another house as he has done for those before her. But he looks into her mind and sees the force of her conviction.
“I’ve been facing racism my entire life,” she tells it. “Here I have the power to do something about it. Put me in Slytherin.”
“Very well,” the hat thinks, and announces her placement. And jaws drop and eyes widen in shock as this little girl with eyes like a bronze warship and the bearing of a queen walks over to her table.
table.
The word mudblood is whispered and Hermione shoots her a look so dark pansy parkinson stops mid sentence, she’s seen that look one place before, the eyes of a cruciatus caster and she thinks to herself that maybe, the girl with golden skin and curly hair isn’t an easy target at all.
And When “Potter, Harry,” is called, the hat sees a child who has suffered, but is so powerful, more powerful than almost any child he has ever seen, if he could only believe what he is capable of. Powerful enough to do what is needed, even though it shouldn’t be his responsibility. And Harry is so nervous he tells the hat to put him anywhere. Put him anywhere, just let him stay.
“Very well,” the hat thinks, better be…
“SLYTHERIN” is the only sound before the hall is silent and shocked her again, as a shy little boy with black hair and tan skin who looks far too skinny and far too small stumbles over to the Slytherin table, trying his best to be as invisible as possible. And his big green eyes have a haunted look that says he’s seen too much for someone his age, and that looking back is not an option.
When McGonagall reads “Weasley, Ronald,” Ron is confused. An hour ago, he was sure he would go to Gryffindor, thought he knew the order of the world. But his new friend is in Slytherin and he’s too nice to be evil, and Ron questions what he thought were hard truths.
And the hat sees. Sees a boy who’s been overshadowed, who has so much ambition and so much longing to prove that he can be something. And he is something, something
more
. The hat can feel it in its very fibres. “You were made for Slytherin,” it tells him. “You have the mind of a general and the ability to face your worst fears and stand strong in the heat of battle.” And Ron thinks that sounds far too ominous, but all he knows is that his new friend is in Slytherin, the only friend he’s ever had that respected him like an equal and looked at him like he was Ron and not Just Another Weasley. And he makes up his mind.
“Okay,” he tells the hat. Aware that he is breaking away from centuries of Weasley tradition. But isn’t that what he wanted- to be noticed?
Ron, who wants to finally be free of his family’s shadow
“SLYTHERIN,” the hat calls, just as the students think that they cannot possibly be more surprised.
And the gangly redhead that slinks awkwardly to the table in green, away from all his brothers, doesn’t look like much, seems to the casual eye entirely unimpressive. But there is a look in his eyes that says he is strong, he is capable, he is loyal without fault if only he can find someone who is worthy to stand by him. There is power there, there is more.
And no one knows exactly what happened, Harry, the saviour of the light sits in between a muggle born and a Weasley on the table of snakes, he meets Dumbledore's concerned eyes with his own fiery green and the old wizard begins to see his empire crumbling. No one knows exactly what happened but one thing is sure, things will never be the same.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The trouble with trolls is the awful stench they gave off, Harry didn't think he'd ever wash it out.There are experiences that one can't go through with others without forming some sort of bond, Harry had killed a mountain troll for them, and so Ron and Hermione would follow him anywhere.They should have never have been in that bathroom, but Pansy's words had been oh so vicious and Hermione was only human, she was used to it that was for sure, but at least in the muggle world there was some sort of repercussion for the slurs, for the bullying- here Hermione had no one, and she felt so alone she retreated to where she was sure to find solace while the others feasted their Halloween away."Mountain Troll in the dungeons," Quirrel had cried,Green eyes met blue "Hermione," Harry simply stated,Ron's eyes hardened "Hermione," he had simply replied and the two had slipped away, wands out, determination on their small features.Harry killed the mountain troll and things changed, there had been fear in professor Mcgonagall's eyes as she surveyed the bloody mess of a bathroom the three children stood in, Harry had turned the beasts club against it, and had beat it until there was nothing left to beat but a pulp of a head.Harry Potter had seen the troll towering over Hermione, had seen it pick Ron up as the boy futilely struggled and he had seen Dudley, he had seen his cousin in all his disgusting glory- and harry had seen red, 'wingardium leviosa' and the club had flown out of its hand from where it had been about to crash down on the terrified girl.
The club had raised and fallen with a sickening thunk, again and again, something akin to a primal scream ripping through Harry’s throat as tears began to form in his companions eyes- all the rage, every time the Dursleys had ever hurt him forming in each brutal strike, Ron gently taking Hermione’s hand and pulling her away from the carnage, to stand behind harry and place a hand on his shoulder.The redhead spoke gently “Harry mate, it’s over, it’s done,” to his credit ron’s voice had not wavered as harry’s wand lowered and the boy sunk into the arms of the trio, green eyes welling up in horror and disgust.
They stood like that until the teachers arrived, a tangle of arms and hair and unspoken soothing words.
Hermione was the first to speak, clever hermione who minerva adored, who she had wished had been placed within her lions, who took so much hatred from her own house for who she was, from other houses for the green on her cloak “I needed the bathroom, Harry and Ron came to save me when none of you did,” she simply stated, a cold indifference in her voice, she knew all about staff that cared little for the prejeduce of their students, she wondered how many of them held blood purist sentiments themselves “Punish us as you must,”
“Who killed the beast?” snape’s voice cut through the silence that followed Hermione’s response to their arrival“I did,” harry replied “Because it wanted to kill Hermione,”“It was lucky harry and I had noticed hermione’s absence- our head of house didn’t, just like the awful things they say about her,” ron paused before taking the other two by the hand and walking away, barely observing the loss of house points called after them.Later that night the trio sat huddled around the fire in the Slytherin common room, again Hermione was the first to speak "Thank you," she whispered "I'm sorry,"
Harry, who's eyes had glazed over as if in a trance since the violence of the troll turned towards her voice and sighed, relief on his features as his eyes softened "What are friends for?"Ron smiled "I'm bloody hungry- lets find something to eat,"