Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Elementary Calculations
2+2
13 reviewsAfter finding his magic earlier, a decidedly non- Gryffindor Harry Potter plots his way to success.
5Original
I disavow all claims to the rights of Harry Potter.
This is my second shot at a HP fanfic and my first multi chap. I hope you enjoy the story. The time line is pushed forward a bit so Harry will be starting Hogwarts in 2001 instead of 1991.
Elementary Calculations
Chapter 1: 2+2
Bloody hell.
Stomach roiling mutinously, Harry Potter pushed himself to his knees. The eight-year-old had been running from his cousin’s gang of thugs, wishing desperately to be somewhere else, when he felt the uncomfortable squeezing sensation. A quick look around assured him that, no, Dudley and his band of morons were not behind him anymore. In fact, there was no one behind him, because he was no longer on the street. He had evidently disappeared off said street and reappeared on a roof.
At which point I promptly tripped over my own feet and fell flat on my face.
Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair and ventured cautiously to the ledge of the building. The sounds of children playing teased his hearing as he looked out over the Surrey Primary School courtyard.
He stepped away from the edge and sat down, contemplative now. In the years he had lived with the Dursley’s - namely his so called ‘Aunt’ Petunia, ‘Uncle’ Vernon, and Dudley -this was not the first time something strange had happened around him. Indeed, only last year, his English teacher had been berating him for not paying attention when she found herself wearing a blue -formerly brown - wig. Random points in his short life had been garnished with mysteriously moving toys, shrinking clothes, regrown hair, and, as of now, a completely unexplained appearance on the school roof.
All of which get me lectures on freakishness, he thought, brows farrowed. Think this through. Since I could understand them, all they go on about is how unnatural and freakish I am. They treat me like touching me might contaminate them. I have my own dish, my own cup, and I have to wash my clothes by hand separately from theirs. I have to clean the shower every time I use it. Vernon demanded that Dudley be put in a different class from me. Petunia always goes on under her breath about how I’m just as unnatural a waste of space as my worthless parents. My freakish parents.
Previously, he thought that was just his relatives beings, well, themselves. Anything that didn’t fit the way they thought it should, was labeled “freakish” or some other conjugation of the word. A wry smirk flitted across his lips. Goths were freaks, homosexuals were unnatural freaks, the homeless were worthless freaks, and foreigners were just freakish.
They always go on about me though. Anything that goes wrong in that house is because of my freakishness. Even when I’ m not there.
Nobody’s ever accused me of being slow.
They obviously knew something. Something that caused them to think that any unusual occurrences should be laid at his feet.
Asking outright would get me nothing but time locked in that cell under the stairs.
Harry had learned when he was younger not to ask his relatives anything. If he wanted to know something, he had to either ask someone else, look it up himself, or keep quiet and hope they let something slip. Usually during one of their tirades about his worthlessness.
I can’t believe I’m related to those people.
Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley. While legally they were under the umbrella of family, he had never thought of them as anything of the sort: they were the people he had to share space with until he could legally leave. Number 4 Privet Drive was not a home: it was his prison until he was eighteen.
Unless I can get into a private boarding school, on a scholarship of course, God knows they won’t pay. Then I only have to worry about them in the summer.
This was the reason that Harry Potter was at the top of his class. He already researched viable schools at the public library. If he stayed at the top of his class till graduation and passed the entrance exams then he could spend as little time with his relatives as possible.
Not that they saw much of each other now. He was let out of his cupboard in the morning to wash up, get dressed, eat and leave for school. After school he went to the public library where he stayed and did his homework, read, and research until he had to leave to reach the Dursley’s in time for dinner. After which he washed up and was locked in the cupboard for the night. Some days he never exchanged any words at all with Petunia and Vernon. They had next to nothing to do with his schooling other than providing his notebooks and book bag. The uniform was school issued and mandatory. His teachers had learned in the years not to mention his name when talking to the Dursley’s. He never went on school trips or anything that required a parents signature.
Harry scowled. Back to the matter at hand. They think that I can do things. The fact that I am up here shows that they are right. The references to my parents suggest that it might be hereditary. That they call my parents freaks doesn’t mean much though since they call everyone not like them freaks. Except they say I’m just like my parents.
He sighed as the bell rung. The end of lunch. Then he cursed.
How the hell am I supposed to get off? Frantic green eyes spotted a door on the other side of the U-shaped roof. A dash to the door showed that it was locked.
“Now what? I can’t be found up here. I would never hear the end of it. Damn it all to the bloody depths of - [Click]-!”
Harry watched speechlessly as the formerly locked door swung in. Then he hurried down the stairs. The late bell would be ringing in a minute.
Just like my parents.
I can live with that.
Laughing softly, he made his way to class. He ignored the odd looks, they never played with him anyway.
This is my second shot at a HP fanfic and my first multi chap. I hope you enjoy the story. The time line is pushed forward a bit so Harry will be starting Hogwarts in 2001 instead of 1991.
Elementary Calculations
Chapter 1: 2+2
Bloody hell.
Stomach roiling mutinously, Harry Potter pushed himself to his knees. The eight-year-old had been running from his cousin’s gang of thugs, wishing desperately to be somewhere else, when he felt the uncomfortable squeezing sensation. A quick look around assured him that, no, Dudley and his band of morons were not behind him anymore. In fact, there was no one behind him, because he was no longer on the street. He had evidently disappeared off said street and reappeared on a roof.
At which point I promptly tripped over my own feet and fell flat on my face.
Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair and ventured cautiously to the ledge of the building. The sounds of children playing teased his hearing as he looked out over the Surrey Primary School courtyard.
He stepped away from the edge and sat down, contemplative now. In the years he had lived with the Dursley’s - namely his so called ‘Aunt’ Petunia, ‘Uncle’ Vernon, and Dudley -this was not the first time something strange had happened around him. Indeed, only last year, his English teacher had been berating him for not paying attention when she found herself wearing a blue -formerly brown - wig. Random points in his short life had been garnished with mysteriously moving toys, shrinking clothes, regrown hair, and, as of now, a completely unexplained appearance on the school roof.
All of which get me lectures on freakishness, he thought, brows farrowed. Think this through. Since I could understand them, all they go on about is how unnatural and freakish I am. They treat me like touching me might contaminate them. I have my own dish, my own cup, and I have to wash my clothes by hand separately from theirs. I have to clean the shower every time I use it. Vernon demanded that Dudley be put in a different class from me. Petunia always goes on under her breath about how I’m just as unnatural a waste of space as my worthless parents. My freakish parents.
Previously, he thought that was just his relatives beings, well, themselves. Anything that didn’t fit the way they thought it should, was labeled “freakish” or some other conjugation of the word. A wry smirk flitted across his lips. Goths were freaks, homosexuals were unnatural freaks, the homeless were worthless freaks, and foreigners were just freakish.
They always go on about me though. Anything that goes wrong in that house is because of my freakishness. Even when I’ m not there.
Nobody’s ever accused me of being slow.
They obviously knew something. Something that caused them to think that any unusual occurrences should be laid at his feet.
Asking outright would get me nothing but time locked in that cell under the stairs.
Harry had learned when he was younger not to ask his relatives anything. If he wanted to know something, he had to either ask someone else, look it up himself, or keep quiet and hope they let something slip. Usually during one of their tirades about his worthlessness.
I can’t believe I’m related to those people.
Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley. While legally they were under the umbrella of family, he had never thought of them as anything of the sort: they were the people he had to share space with until he could legally leave. Number 4 Privet Drive was not a home: it was his prison until he was eighteen.
Unless I can get into a private boarding school, on a scholarship of course, God knows they won’t pay. Then I only have to worry about them in the summer.
This was the reason that Harry Potter was at the top of his class. He already researched viable schools at the public library. If he stayed at the top of his class till graduation and passed the entrance exams then he could spend as little time with his relatives as possible.
Not that they saw much of each other now. He was let out of his cupboard in the morning to wash up, get dressed, eat and leave for school. After school he went to the public library where he stayed and did his homework, read, and research until he had to leave to reach the Dursley’s in time for dinner. After which he washed up and was locked in the cupboard for the night. Some days he never exchanged any words at all with Petunia and Vernon. They had next to nothing to do with his schooling other than providing his notebooks and book bag. The uniform was school issued and mandatory. His teachers had learned in the years not to mention his name when talking to the Dursley’s. He never went on school trips or anything that required a parents signature.
Harry scowled. Back to the matter at hand. They think that I can do things. The fact that I am up here shows that they are right. The references to my parents suggest that it might be hereditary. That they call my parents freaks doesn’t mean much though since they call everyone not like them freaks. Except they say I’m just like my parents.
He sighed as the bell rung. The end of lunch. Then he cursed.
How the hell am I supposed to get off? Frantic green eyes spotted a door on the other side of the U-shaped roof. A dash to the door showed that it was locked.
“Now what? I can’t be found up here. I would never hear the end of it. Damn it all to the bloody depths of - [Click]-!”
Harry watched speechlessly as the formerly locked door swung in. Then he hurried down the stairs. The late bell would be ringing in a minute.
Just like my parents.
I can live with that.
Laughing softly, he made his way to class. He ignored the odd looks, they never played with him anyway.
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