a different harry potter

Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

A small, bespectacled child lay on his side in a darkened cupboard under the stairs of Number 4 Privet Drive. One arm was held close to his body as if in pain, and tears stained his dirty cheeks. He'd been locked in his cupboard for almost three days now, and if not for the daily trip to the bathroom where he could drink water from the tap, he wondered if he'd still be conscious. Of course, Dudley had chosen to hit him several times with his Smeltings stick again as Harry was returning to his cupboard earlier and his arm and right side ached with pain. It didn't feel broken, and for that he was very thankful.

He used his left hand to remove his glasses, and carefully lay them on a nearby shelf. Then he wiped his face on his too large shirt, a hand me down from Dudley that was several sizes too large and practically threadbare. He knew his relatives did not care for him, and he knew that was not going to change. He did not remember his parents or a time when he had not lived in the cupboard under the stairs and did chores to pay for his keep. He had no explanation for the weird things that sometimes happened to or around him. When he was really small, he had asked his Aunt Petunia if it was magic. She insisted it was not, and locked him in his cupboard for a week. He learned not to ask questions after that.

When he was younger he would make up stories for himself about his parents, and how someone

for himsen about his parents, and now someone would come to take him away and raise him. Then Uncle Vernon said his parents were dead. That they died in a car accident, driving drunk, while Harry survived but was left with the odd, lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. His relatives made sure to tell him that no one had wanted him. That they had been forced to take him in, and he would be straight off to an orphanage if he didn't behave and do as he was told. He stopped making up stories after that because it hurt too much as year after year passed and no one came for him. He shook his head at his morbid thoughts. Being locked in the cupboard gave him too much time to think.

He shivered and pulled his second oversized shirt around him to try to ward off the chill. He shifted slightly to lie in a position to try to ease the ache in his right arm and side. His aunt had screeched that he'd have chores tomorrow, so he hoped that mean he'd finally get to eat something. If not, he would have no choice but to try to slip out of his cupboard and sneak some food. He avoided sneaking out of the cupboard and taking food if he could for fear of getting caught. Another lesson he had learned the hard way, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. Satisfied with his short term plans, he finally closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep too exhausted to stay awake.

Harry awoke to banging on his cupboard door, and the high pitched screech of his aunt to get up and start on breakfast. The pain in his arm and side had eased, but not completely faded. He only hoped he would be able to keep up with his chores. He sat up slowly feeling slightly dizzy, but pushing past it. It happened sometimes when he hadn't eaten in awhile. He hated summer holidays because it meant he couldn't at least eat food at school. Hewould be able to keep up with his chores. He sat up slowly feeling slightly dizzy, but pushing past it. It happened sometimes when he hadn't eaten in awhile. He hated summer holidays because it meant he couldn't at least eat food at school. He knew if he was careful, and ate something today, he would hopefully be better by the next day. He got to his feet slowly, and was just pushing the unlocked door open when someone pushed hard from the other side causing Harry to fall backwards into the opposite wall. His vision blackened as his head connected with the wall, and he slid down it. He suppressed his urge to cry out, and focused on not giving in to the darkness. He needed to eat today. It wouldn't do to get locked back into the cupboard before he had a chance to sneak some food.

"Hurry up you lazy boy, Dudley's already downstairs," his aunt commanded wrenching his door open as Harry blinked at the light in the hall. He leaned forward and crawled out of the cupboard. "Go wash your hands and face, and then get in the kitchen and start preparing breakfast." Harry slowly got to his feet, swaying slightly, and did as he was told. He moved as quickly as he dared, and tried not to noticeably favor his right arm. It wouldn't do to show weakness in front of his relatives. Just as Harry exited the bathroom,

feeling slightly better, the doorbell rang.

"Get the door, boy." Harry shuffled towards the door, and opened it. A young woman stood before him dressed in a knee length blue summer dress and heeled sandals. She had black hair that fell around her shoulders, and large dark blue eyes that seemed to match her dress. She smiled easily at him and Harry found it made her look quite pretty.

"Hello. Who is it?" He stated in his most polite voice.

"Hello, my name is Septima Vector, and I am here to speak with Harry Potter and his relatives," she explained in a quiet voice. Harry was careful to keep his expression neutral He did not recognizekeep his expression neutral. He did not recognize the woman, and he wondered why she was her to see him. No one came to talk to him.

"My name is Harry Potter," he managed softly. "Please come in while I call for my aunt," he stated and invited her into the entryway. He closed the door behind her, and then moved back towards the kitchen, calling out for his aunt.

Septima Vector took in the well kept entry way around her, but mostly she used the time to carefully study the young child in front of her. She knew him to be nearly eleven years old, but she would guess him as much younger. He was wearing clothes that were much too big for him, and seemed to hang off his too small body. His face had been extremely pale, with lank, messy black hair that was faintly damp. His large green eyes were hidden behind badly broken black framed glasses that like his clothes seemed too large for his angular face. He also had looked away from her quickly, as if he was shy or unused to meeting others eyes. As she watched him move, he also seemed to favor his right arm a bit. It was barely noticeable, but then she had been tasked by Minerva to pay attention and determine her opinion of the boy's home life. She had only been in the home a moment, and already she was not impressed.

A tall thin woman, with blonde hair moved into the entryway, without the boy. "Hello, dear, I'm Petunia Dursley. What did you say your name was?"

"Septima Vector, I'm here to speak with Harry Potter and his relatives," Septima replied coolly as she eyed the woman before her. The woman was dressed in a flowered dress that attempted to flatter her thin frame, with a strand of thin pearls around her neck.

"Harry is my nephew, and I'm afraid he has some chores to be doing right now, and my husband has already left for work. What exactly did you want totalk about with us?" Petunia enquired not knowing how to deal with the woman before her.

"I must insist that Mr. Potter be present for the discussion as it is him that I mostly came to see. Could we perhaps have a seat somewhere?"

"Of course, please go on into the parlor, just to your right. I'll just let Harry know he's needed. Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you," Septima replied and turned to enter the room as directed. The room was immaculate and smelled faintly of lemon scented furnisher polish. She made her way to an overstuffed chair and primly sat on the edge of the seat, setting her purse by her feet. The walls and surfaces held numerous pictures of the woman she had met, a rather large man who must be her husband, and an equally large blonde haired boy who must be their son. She did not see any pictures of the black haired boy who had opened the door for her. She watched carefully as Petunia and Harry entered the room. The boy was looking down at his shoes, and merely stood to the side of his aunt rather than seating himself. Septima found this behavior slightly strange, but brushed it aside for now.

Petunia Dursley sat on her favorite chair, her curiosity as to the young woman piqued. She did not recall ever having met her before and she wondered why the woman wanted to talk to the boy. Septima waited for several more moments to see if the boy would take a seat, but he didn't. Finally, she decided to just begin her tale and go from there.

"Mr. Potter, I am here today to deliver your letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."He'll not be going," Petunia stated emphatically rising to her feet. She had not suspected the young, well dressed woman of being a freak, but now that she knew, she had to get her out of there. "Harry, go to your room." Harry moved to comply.

"Mr. Potter, please stay," she countered and the young man seemed to hesitate before looking towards his aunt. He really wanted to hear what the woman had to say, but he really could not afford to irritate his aunt or make her mad.

"I said go," she ordered firmly and so he did as he was told. He'd be locked in the cupboard for sure if he disobeyed.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said very softly before he left the room.

"As for you, get out of my house now," she ordered. "I will not have you freaks in my home." Septima rose to her feet as well. This was not going as she had imagined.

"Mrs. Dursley, I do not take kindly to your interruption or to being called a freak. If you cannot sit down and remain quiet while I speak to Mr. Potter, than I shall make you."

"This is my home. If you don't leave immediately, I will be forced to notify the police," Petunia insisted eyes flashing. "He won't be going to some freak school," she practically hissed. "Now get out!"

"Very well," Septima replied and before Petunia could blink she found herself completely frozen in place. "I did warn you." Turning from the woman whose face was now a bright red, Septima made her way back into the entryway and stated loudly.Mr. Potter, it is imperative that I speak with you. Please come back to the entryway, I can assure you that your aunt will cooperate, and you will not be punished. You have my word."

Harry sat in his cupboard and pondered her statements. He had no real reason to trust this woman. No one had helped him before now. And she may discover that his room was the cupboard under the stairs. If she knew that, would it be enough for her to take him away from the Dursleys? Did he want to leave this way? This could be his chance to get away from the Dursleys. He thought he had given up hope of that occurring before he finished school, but apparently a spark of hope still existed and he could feel it wanting to grow. He took a deep breath as he searched for the courage to fight for something better. He should at least hear her out, and then decide for his self. He pushed aside his fears and opened the cupboard door, slowly making his way out into the hall. He did not see his aunt anywhere, so he straightened to his full height and raised his eyes to meet those of

the woman who had silenced his aunt.

"Is that your room, Mr. Potter?" Septima did her best to keep the surprise out of her voice. She had expected the young man to come down the stairs in front of her, not appear from a door set underneath those stairs. She moved closer to him, and Harry took several steps back wondering if perhaps this was such a good idea. She looked from him to the door. "May I?" She requested. At his barely perceptible nod, she pulled the cupboard door open noting the lock on the outside. Inside lay a thin and dirty crib mattress, a rather large shirt and pants, and when she looked closer she noted a small sign in a child's cravon scrawl denoting thisa small sign in a child's crayon scrawl denoting this as "Harry's Room." She swept her eyes over the entire room, before rising again to her full height and studying the dark haired boy before her.

"Mum! I'm hungry!" A voice whined from the doorway just past the cupboard. Septima looked up to see the large blonde haired boy from the pictures.

"Make yourself a bowl of cereal. Your mother is busy at the moment."

"The freak is supposed to make breakfast," Dudley insisted, hungry and not caring that he wasn't supposed to call his cousin a freak in front of adult guests.

"There is no freak here, young man, and I have given you an order. I expect it to be followed," Septima stated coldly. She did not appreciate the whiny quality of the boy's voice or what his comments were revealing about Harry Potter's home life.

"Mummy! The freak isn't making me breakfast!" Dudley Dursley practically screeched deciding to ignore the strange woman standing near his cousin. Septima released her wand back into her hand and pointed it towards the obese boy.

"If you do not return to the kitchen quietly so I may talk to your cousin, you will find yourself frozen in place," she informed him fully intending to stun him to stop the whining. She noticed that Harry watched her warily remaining out of her reach and not saying anything.

"What's that stick supposed to do?"This is a wand. And I am a witch. I can use magic with this wand to turn you into a pig if I so desire. Now, I suggest you go back into the kitchen quietly as I have already told you to."

"There's no such thing as magic," Dudley insisted petulantly. With a flick of her wand, she stunned the obnoxious child who fell onto the floor.

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter, but I did not wish to argue with him further. I will levitate him into the parlor if you wish to return there with me to finish our discussion." Harry nodded in agreement, and moved carefully towards the parlor keeping a sharp eye on the woman who still had her wand in her hand. He did not want to make the same mistake as Dudley and disobey a direct order from her. He watched carefully as Dudley was floated into the living room and placed on the floor near his aunt who appeared to be frozen in place.

"Are they okay?" Septima looked to the dark haired boy at his voiced question and decided to remain standing.

"Yes, they are both fine. The spells are temporary. Your cousin may have a headache later, but once the spells wear off they will be back to normal," she reassured him. "I do not mean them or you any harm."

"So, magic is real," Harry needed details. What she had just done should have been impossible. He barely held back a relieved sigh when her wand disappeared again.

"Yes, magic is real and Hogwarts is a boarding school in Scotland where you will learn about magic. Both your parents went to Hogwarts, so itis no surprise that you are a wizard. School starts on September 1, but I am here to deliver your letter with details on what books and supplies you will need and to answer whatever questions you have that your guardians did not or could not answer," she explained with a smile trying to be reassuring. This meeting had not gone anything like she expected, and it was obvious from her eyes that the frozen Petunia Dursley was upset about her current condition and that of her son.

"I take it your relatives did not tell you about magic." Harry shook his head.

"They always said that magic doesn't exist."

"How did they explain your bouts of accidental magic? Instances when something odd or strange happened?"

"I'm a freak," he stated simply with a sidelong look at his aunt. Septima nearly gritted her teeth, but focused on remaining calm. This was one of the reasons why she had learned occlumency. She knew what she needed to do, but she also knew she had not prepared to do that.

"You are not a freak, Mr. Potter, and your relatives should never have told you that," she stated firmly. "All magical children have instances of accidental magic. It is perfectly normal and natural to do so," she stated and then paused for a moment to take in the room one more time. She knew what she needed to do as she could not imagine leaving the young man here, and she needed to know more about his treatment. She doubted he would tell her everything at once. After all, he had no reason to trust her. She studied Harry Potter carefully as well.eyes slightly downcast, but she did not doubt that he was observing her as well.

"Now, from what I have seen and observed, I do not think your relatives are fit to serve as your guardians. If you will please gather any belongings you wish to take with you, Mr. Potter, I will take you away from here, and if you want, I will do my best to see that you do not have to return." She was careful to keep her voice both quiet and calm. Her fingers itched to hex the blonde haired woman who thought a child should be locked in a cupboard until she was nothing more than a blubbering mass of flesh, but she reigned in her rage and focused on the child before her. He hadn't moved from his position standing just inside the room, but after her last statement he looked up at her with those intense green eyes. Slowly, he left the room and returned only a moment later with a tattered blue blanket and what looked like some toy soldiers. As if the cupboard wasn't bad enough, what did it say about their care of him if his prize possessions were an old baby blanket and some plastic soldiers? She knew she would not allow him to be returned here. She did not want to think of him locked in that cupboard, probably hungry given his small size. No child should be treated that way.

"I'm ready to go, ma'am," he stated politely and it dragged her from her thoughts.

"Mrs. Dursley, you should hope we do not meet again. I am sure someone will be in touch with you in regards to how you have cared for your nephew. For now, I will be taking him to get his school supplies and I sincerely doubt he will be returning here," she stated clearly and distinctly. "Mr. Potter, follow me, please," and with that she made her waythought a child should be locked in a cupboard% until she was nothing more than a blubbering mass of flesh, but she reigned in her rage and focused on the child before her. He hadn't moved from his position standing just inside the room, but after her last statement he looked up at her with those intense green eyes. Slowly, he left the room and returned only a moment later with a tattered blue blanket and what looked like some toy soldiers. As if the cupboard wasn't bad enough, what did it say about their care of him if his prize possessions were an old baby blanket and some plastic soldiers? She knew she would not allow him to be returned here. She did not want to think of him locked in that cupboard, probably hungry given his small size. No child should be treated that way.

"I'm ready to go, ma'am," he stated politely and it dragged her from her thoughts.

"Mrs. Dursley, you should hope we do not meet again. I am sure someone will be in touch with you in regards to how you have cared for your nephew. For now, I will be taking him to get his school supplies and I sincerely doubt he will be returning here," she stated clearly and distinctly. "Mr. Potter, follow me, please," and with that she made her way out of the Dursley's home with Harry Potter by her side.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. I did not start posting this story until I had several chapters completed. This has been mostly done for some time, but I wasn't sure where to have the natural break between this and the next chapter. Thank you so much for the reviews so far, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and no money is being made from this story