Capítulo 4: Chapter 4: Semblance of Magic
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I would like to thank my beta, Akisu, for his help in this chapter.
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13th March 1991, Privet Drive, Surrey
There was a slight bruise on his left cheek, but it didn't look serious. It was then that he noticed the distinct lack of a scar on his forehead, and all his plans went to hell in a second.
The young boy couldn't help but mutter, "Oh, fuck."
Young Harry did not expect the admonishing voice coming from behind him, "Watch your language, Mr Potter."
Instinctively, answered back, "I'm sorry, Nurse Royce."
The school nurse turned up her nose and nodded to herself, satisfied with his apology. Harry didn't even notice the woman enter. He was too distracted by the clusterfuck that he just figured out. He was not marked. Of course, it made sense now he thought of it, but the moment he remembered Harrold Smith's life, he forgot the fact that he lacked a certain lightning bolt shaped scar that marked him as the child of the prophecy, as Voldemort's enemy.
Harry tried to remember and thought back to any noticeable scar he might have had and found nothing. He didn't have a scar, that was a fact, then the question was what happened to his parents.
James and Lily Potter were supposed to be the Gryffindor golden couple. The Head boy and Head girl – which had to be very biased since they're both in the same house – they're supposed to be members of Dumbledore's order of the phoenix and die protecting Harry from Tom Riddle's attack on that fateful night in their cottage in Godric's Hollows.
But how much of what he remembered was true, or what else is false? Perhaps Voldemort had chosen Neville and he was the child of the prophecy, while Harry's parents were tortured to insanity by the Lestranges and Crouch Jr.? Perhaps they even abandoned Harry for some reason – which wasn't likely since Petunia would have done her best to rub that in his face, and she said that her sister was dead.
Perhaps the prophecy was different than the stories and Harry didn't need to be marked to be the Chosen One, or even better, there wasn't any prophecy in the first place.
Or maybe Voldemort never existed in the first place. This little detail, this scar, showed Harry that the books, the stories were fallible. They were just that, stories, but Harry lived in the real world. He would use what he could from the stories, but until he meets the magical world, it would be foolish to even plan.
For the present moment, it would be better to assume that he wasn't the child of the prophecy and move on from there. It's the outcome he was hoping for, at least. Harry was uncomfortable at the idea of being famous in any way, especially for his parents dying for him in the first place. Even now, compared to the books, the Dursleys looked tame. Oh, they hated the young wizard for his magic and were completely fearful of his potential, but they were overly abusive. Sure, they were spiteful, but they never beat him, constantly insult him, or even lock him up in the fucking cupboard under the stairs of all places. They were not insane, just some mistrustful muggles that were fearful of magic.
Honestly, the Dursleys from the stories felt more like a caricature of the evil stepmother from the Cinderella story than real people. He couldn't imagine ever people being so obsessed with being normal that they would treat their nephew as a slave. That was especially stupid when that particular nephew would one day be a wizard that could kill them in seconds with barely more than a few waves of a wand, and even hide any evidence of the encounter.
It would be the height of recklessness to justify the pleasure of being cruel to a defenceless child who would turn into a wizard one day. Oh, they didn't pretend to like him, but ignorance was far better than physical abuse.
The young wizard's thoughts were interrupted by the nurse's voice, "Are you listening to me, young man."
"I'm sorry, Nurse Royce, I'm just a bit distracted. Would you mind repeating what you just said?"
The grumpy nurse huffed, "Fine. As I said, you only have a slight bruise on your cheek. There doesn't seem to be any fractures or serious injuries. Honestly, I wouldn't have expected you to have been in a fight at all, at least compared to the other boys."
Harry shrugged, "I'm not much of a fighter. They just cornered me, called me a freak, and started beating me. I did my best to avoid being hit and run away. I even turned them against each other, but I couldn't run away fast enough."
The boy could swear to see a slight smile on the face of the nurse, who sighed in exasperation, "You could have really hurt them, kiddo."
Outraged, Harry responded, "You do realize that there were five of them. And I barely even hit any of them. They mostly just hit each other. The only one I really hit was Piers and Dudley, and my cousin is too fat to feel anything these puny muscles could hit."
"Well, you better convince the Headmistress. The teachers broke the fight between the three boys and brought you all here. Their parents are all in her office, complaining away."
Harry took a deep breath, "Well, that's not good, is it?"
"Yes, things do not look good for you. Now, let's not keep the Headmistress waiting. She told me to bring you to her as soon as you wake up."
The nurse then turned and left the infirmary, with Harry hastily following after her. The young boy was even gasping exhaustion by the time they arrived in the Headmistress' office. He felt drained and he didn't know if it was because of the fight or because of the magic he used.
Still, he entered the room with all five of his aggressors and their parents staring down at him with furious expressions. The headmistress looked down at him with a severe expression, "Mr Potter, it's good to see you awake again. Well, now that you're here, we can begin. Can you tell us what happened, your side of things, at least?"
Harry shrugged, "Well, I decided to go on a walk for lunch since I forgot to pack myself any and didn't bring any money for the cafeteria. I was walking around when Dudley and his friends called me a freak and bragged that there were no teachers to defend me. They said they wanted me to teach me a lesson. I tried to talk them out of it, but it didn't work."
Petunia scoffed but was silenced by a glare from the headmistress. The woman then nodded to me to continue his story, "Since I'm not much of a physical fighter, I tried to turn them against one another. I said some very hurtful things that I'm not proud of to get them to focus on themselves. Malcom and Denis started fighting, and Gordon was trying to break them up."
All of the three mentioned parents glared at their children who looked down in shame and Harry stifled a smile of satisfaction at what was probably going to await them. "I then tried to run but Piers and Dudley held me up and still wanted to fight. When they hit me, I threw some dust in their eyes, and hit Piers in the leg, but then Dudley punch me in the face and I think I passed out. I don't remember anything else, sorry."
Petunia glared at her nephew, "Headmistress, you can't believe this nonsense, can you?"
The headmistress answered with a sarcastic tone, "As opposed to your son's story that he attacked them all for no reason whatsoever?"
Harry snorted in amusement and all of the adults looked at him with raised eyebrows, telling him to justify himself, "It's just that it's such a stupid story. So, I somehow went on a walk before them, and when they came out for no reason, chose to fight them. And that's your story, that an honour student who didn't go to a single detention in his schooling, decided to attack boys known for harassing their classmates, just for the fun of it. And most of all, you're saying that I, the short thin kid who can barely do a few laps in gym class, would physically fight not one, not two, but five people that are bigger and stronger than me at the same time. Are you seriously believing this?"
The headmistress must have had the same thought, "You have to admit that your son's story is far-fetched, Mrs Dursley. Look, we're all adults here, and we can admit that everyone here had their part to play in this mess. So, I'm giving you all two days of detention, and it will be up to you to add any additional punishment at home. As for now, it's almost the end of the classes, so take your children with you home."
Everyone seemed somewhat satisfied with the decision, even if Petunia was grumbling and the drive home was spent in silence. The punishment from Harry's aunt and uncle was relatively tame. They yelled at him for hurting their darling child and forbade him from leaving his room which wasn't really a big deal.
Dudley's grinning face, as they berated him, was annoying, but it didn't really anger him, not anymore. It's hard to imagine that he envied Dudley once. Now, he only just pitied him. His parents coddled him so much that they raised a dysfunctional boy that will not be able to live by himself when he grows up. He'll probably end up paying a small fortune in therapy to get over how they messed him up. And all because his parents wanted to show their superiority to their nephew.
Although, it really couldn't be out of spite, and they are just this much of horrible parents, as unlikely as that may be.
But Harry stopped caring about it, for now, Dudley wasn't important. Vernon and Petunia weren't important, because he had magic, now. He had real power, and in a few months, he would be invited to Hogwarts. It made sense because that's probably the arrangement Petunia was talking about when Harry mentioned secondary school.
As for now, Harry was confined to his own room until the end of the year, and while he would miss his trips to the library, he had enough time to experiment with magic properly.
The young wizard hadn't been successful in using it because he really didn't know what it was other than it was some kind of 'freakishness'. But now, Harry knew that it was just called accidental magic, a way for magic to express itself during childhood when they express powerful emotions.
It was often known to be chaotic and replicating it would be dangerous. It happened to Harry when he was scared or about to get hurt. It didn't really protect him, as much as it responded to his fear of something hurting him. Plus having control over the magic wasn't an impossible thing. Tom Riddle, as a child, had learnt to weaponize it to frighten his bullies in the orphanage. Hell, he even learnt how to telekinetically move objects by himself. Well, that's according to the stories, that is. If anything, Tom Riddle was an extremely intelligent child to figure this out on his own. He probably weaponized an emotion, most likely hate, and used it to channel his magic through it. It was as disturbing as it was brilliant, not to mention slightly frightening.
As for Harry, now that he understood the principal, he needed to use them slightly. He looked at the small sheet of paper on his bed and stared at it, as he had been for the last few hours.
Harry did his best to put the image in his mind, of Dudley trying to strike him in the face, he looked deep down, trying to channel it as much as possible. He almost felt like he was there, scared of being hurt, and with that emotion, he felt something stir inside him.
A small warmth spread all over his body, and the sheet of paper levitated a few inches in the air. Well, that was easier than he expected.
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