The Threadmarks below are the corrected version of the chapters.
On a Similar Path
Harry, the ruthless and powerful wizard
This uses Tom Riddle as inspiration to how Harry develops. True, he won’t be nearly as villainous as Tom, but he will be clearly similar to him regardless.
-----
I don’t own ‘Harry Potter’; I also lay no claim to ‘His Dark Materials’ which is referenced in this story.
(Yes, the anachronism is deliberate. I claim artistic licence; and a canon Playstation in 1992 or so.)
-----
-----
Harry had just become six years old. Most children his age were pretty carefree, even with school‘s burdens; however, Harry Potter was contemplating much heavier matters than the usual, even for adults. To be exact, he was considering dropping his efforts to impress his relatives. Why? Because he was certain they would never care.
“Aunt Petunia! Aunt Petunia!â€
“What is it, boy? Out with it!â€
“Look, my progress report! Perfect scores all around!â€
Petunia looked it over, then turned her nose up and looked to the side, whispering “far better than Dudley.†She returned to her usual shrill, loud voice. “That’s it, boy! Off to the cupboard, with no dinner! You are not better than Dudley, no matter what delusions might enter that head of yours. You hear?â€
His aunt’s reaction to a mention of a birthday party was just as bad; rather than angry and cruel, she was casually cruel (‘of course there will be no party; it’s not like something important happened’).
Even though he was awfully young, some people mature quickly. Harry realised the futility of seeking his ‘family’s’ affection; something which, for some people, might continue well into adulthood. Worse, with others, despair would set in and they likely ended up mentally broken or at least horrible (and usually malicious) shells of their previous selves.
There were also the rare people who, while significantly impacted, still functioned; and, above all, were pure of heart. Harry could have been one of those, but his patience had worn thin. Thus, while he was unbroken and not truly malevolent, he was far from pure-hearted.
‘What should I do? I’ve been studying far ahead, but since I know it won’t change anything now, I should stop. Right?’ After a bit of thinking he decided. ‘No, definitely not. I’ve put too much work into my studies to stop now -hell, I learned how to read when I was four on my own, after almost a year of effort- so why would I stop now? I won’t do it for anyone other than myself; after all, didn’t I want to read to find something to do then?’ Though, to be truthful, he started learning how to read because he saw Vernon trying to teach Dudley (in vain).
Of course, nicking Dudley’s never-used books from the second bedroom without being noticed had been a staple and a passive-aggressive form of revenge for Harry since early on.
-----
Our protagonist’s temper was a lot more volatile than before, due to his optimism having run dry; or it would have been, had cold calculation not held him back. In the past few months, he had progressed in the subtle arts of deception and manipulation. He was much better at acting submissive and using flattery to his advantage, and had managed to keep the Dursleys from ever denying him food, through carefully mentioning the school nurse and how inquisitive she was.
Harry prodded Petunia and managed to get her to put more vegetables and fruit in their diet, even if Dudley never touched them and Vernon only ate them on rare occasions. Another skill he had developed was ‘reading’ people; their body language, minute face twitches and mannerisms, the meanings hidden in words and other such things.
His morals, already ‘flexible’ enough, had become more something in the line of ‘don’t get caught’. Whereas before, he only took Dudley’s books and even returned them afterwards, recently, Harry had sold some of those he no longer needed as ‘slightly used’ at a shop on the other side of Little Whinging.
He used the earnings to buy a small lamp and more powerful light bulbs as a better light source for his cupboard and a flashlight, in order to better read in other dark places. Otherwise, he was pretty careful about what he did; he only ever took things from his relatives, did so on rare occasions and never directly stole money or something that would be missed.
Time went on, Harry got far more clever and deceptive in a gradual process; he progressed in his studies, reaching early secondary school work. His grades hardly reflected his progress, since even for a first grader, Harry looked especially dim; which was an apt description for his cousin, Dudley, after whom he modelled himself in class.
Close to a year had passed since Harry gave up on the Dursleys, he was nearing the age of seven and his carefully controlled emotions were about to show themselves.
-----
Harry was running to save himself. That school year, Dudley had taken to a game he called ‘Harry Hunting’. It involved taking his gang of junior delinquents, catching the aforementioned cousin and beating him up.
He was out of breath, so he stopped for a bit. “Huff, huff, huff. Have, I, lost them?â€
“You wish, Potter!†Said Piers Polkiss, the newest, rat-faced addition in Dudley’s gang.
Piers was the fastest of them; he very well might be the fastest in their grade -along with the next-, with the exception of Harry. Of course, Piers, Dudley and the rest of them had the advantage of numbers - so Harry, for all his cunning, speed and stamina, tended to run out of energy and get beaten up for the few weeks since Piers and his family moved to Little Whinging; even if he sometimes managed to use his stealth to hide well enough to dodge the proverbial bullet.
The beating that day was especially brutal, since Dudley was trying out his new bat. Harry knew better than to fight back, since Dudley’s parents could make his life really hard, which was why he wouldn’t push his luck. It was fortunate that the bat broke rather easily, and that Harry was surprisingly durable.
-----
“Potter!†Snapped the teacher, sneering. “Why do you look like that - have you been picking fights again?â€
Harry rubbed his tender skull, then spoke. “A gang of bullies were picking on me, Ms. Muggleham.†He said, anger mounting.
“A likely story, boy.†She replied, dismissing his words. “Does anyone know what truly happened?â€
Dudley immediately spoke, without bothering to wait for permission. “Ms. Muggleham! Harry tried to beat up a first-year girl and I stopped him. He tried to beat me up then, but he couldn’t.â€
“I see. Apparently, you are incorrigible, Potter. Detention for the rest of the month.†She ignored the light fading out and in repeatedly, and said her piece. “I’ll have to speak to the Headmistress; perhaps expelling you is the only solution, after all.â€
‘That- that bloody - bitch!’ Harry was trembling mildly in his rage and glaring at the fat-arse teacher. Nobody could tell for sure what happened then; the only thing that was certain was that Ms. Muggleham’s wig had disappeared somehow.
-----
“…So you see, Headmistress, there must be a logical explanation for this.â€
The Head of St. Grogory’s Primary School looked unmoved, but she sighed. “I suppose I cannot blame you for this, Mr. Potter,†she told him. “There is also no evidence that you ever bullied any first year girls, so I shall have to ask Mr. Dursley not to say such things.â€
Thus, Harry was spared any punishment at school. However, Dudley described what happened in class that day (the filthy snitch), so Harry was confined to his cupboard for the next four weekends. His meals, on the other hand, remained exactly the same - there is a lot to be said of the value of subtle manipulation.
The Dursleys added to Harry’s chores: breakfast became Harry’s duty, same with tending the garden. The tenuous peace he had established with his Aunt and Uncle had shattered; it was much harder to manipulate them, since they almost never spoke to him for longer than a few seconds, and usually only to… give him ‘fashion advice’ (‘Comb your hair, boy’, ‘fix those wrinkles’). They even actively tried to make him miserable, something that seldom occurred before.
So, we could find our hero inside his cupboard, once again giving deep consideration to something; in this case, the nature of Ms. Muggleham’s wig’s disappearance.
‘There’s no doubt that the Dursleys were right this time. I caused Muggleham’s wig to vanish. No, the question is “howâ€. A better question is “can I reproduce it, on purpose?†’ Harry’s mind had its gears turning at maximum speed.
After a bit of thought, he decided that either he was either some kind of mutant, or a potential magician; maybe both. Harry was reasonably certain that he had to will reality to respond to his, well, will, but needed more information. True to the boy’s character, the answer lay in books. To be exact, he would read as much fiction as possible at the school library in order to think up a way to call upon his power deliberately.
He would rather not have it respond to extreme emotions, since that would mean it could easily get out of control. Harry refused to have any more ‘accidents’. Considering Dudley usually angered him greatly, there was a chance Harry would do something to said cousin, and that might have his horse-faced aunt skewer him on a kitchen knife, or his walrus of an uncle break out his ‘secret’ shotgun.
He could want things with all his heart without anger, hatred, envy or other emotions that could get out of control being involved much, thank you very much.
-----
Most of what Harry read was useless for his purpose (thus quickly discarded), until he stumbled upon the series called ‘His Dark Materials’. Research forgotten, Harry was immersed into a fantastical world of sentient Polar Bears, weird truth-divining devices and, of course, a protagonist who was too fun for her own good.
He snapped out of that immersion when he reached the part describing the focus needed for the use of powerful artifacts such as the Aletheiometer and the subtle knife.
To use them, one had to reach a state of mind in which he or she was focused on one thing, but also calm and detached; they would not be forcing themselves.
From what Harry could tell, it was a form of trance-like state. It seemed like a great idea, or at least a good start. He continued reading the book series on the side, but mainly kept experimenting in an effort to use his powers consciously.
The attempts bore no fruit for quite a while. Harry only had a small breakthrough when he decided to try to transform something into something else, rather than make it disappear entirely.
Despite failing to manage anything worthwhile for over three weeks, Harry persevered. He got better and better at the trance thing, owing to daily practice and a few books on meditation and something called ‘Divination’ he read at the school library, which gave him the impression that his power was likely to be some form of magic. Until, on a literal rainy day, he managed to turn a matchstick into a sewing needle, though not a flawless one. He had got the idea for this particular combination from an elderly woman in odd robes, who was telling what looked like her grandchild that ‘At school, it’s matchsticks to needles first.’
What was even weirder was that the old woman acted like she recognised Harry from somewhere immediately afterwards, and even tipped her hat at him, which felt kind of like a violation of the rules of the universe. Petunia pulled him away immediately - another consequence of the wig incident was that he was no longer allowed to wander off on his own, and the Dursleys often had their eyes on him, which put an end to his creative acquisition of funds due to the risks involved.
-----
“Wake up, boy!†His aunt shouted, with her oh so sweet screech. Petunia never failed to wake Harry up at a quarter past six every morning. In a deviation from routine, she didn’t wait, and opened the cupboard’s door herself. “What in blazes-†She had seen the new addition to Harry’s ‘room’, since Harry had forgotten to switch off the light. “What is this, boy?†She interrogated, holding up the lamp.
“Wha-†Harry wasn’t exactly coherent so early in the morning.
“Don’t play innocent, Potter! Did you steal this?!â€
Harry explained that he got it at a shop with used stuff, even told her which shop it was (fortunately, he was wise enough not to buy things from anywhere near where he sold what he stole) and, when the woman demanded that he tell where he found the money and if he stole it.
“You see, Aunt Petunia, people seem to think my family is hard up on money; not in this neighbourhood, but in other parts of Little Whinging, people sometimes give me money when they see me. I didn’t refuse the gifts; that would be rude, right?†He said, twisting the proverbial knife. He wasn’t truly lying, either, since that had happened more than once, though not often enough for Harry to buy anything more than a few sweets.
Petunia’s face turned a yellowish colour, then the shades of purple Vernon was so prone to, for the first time. Her anger turned into tired resignation quickly, though. “Just- stay in here, boy. No; make breakfast, then return to the cupboard immediately.†At the moment, her already sour personality was showing in her face to the fullest extent. Anyone would agree it made for an ugly sight, including Harry, but he also thought it was a sight for sore eyes. Her suffering, that is.
-----
Harry’s gambit backfired, but he maintained that it was worth it, even if he no longer had any money or a light source at his cupboard. Even the flashlight had been confiscated, not to mention the light bulb the Dursleys had given him. Fortunately, he had hidden the books he had kept in a place they wouldn’t be found. There was, however, a silver lining to the situation. While he didn’t get any new clothes (God forbid!), Petunia was more careful about what hand-me-downs she gave him, and even tailored them herself.
-----
The next part in Project M (from Magic, which might or might not be the proper name) was, of course, to make light. Since Harry had already managed to use magic deliberately more than once (being a bit of a perfectionist, he had practised the transformation repeatedly, until he could do it in less than four seconds. He especially tried to get into the trance more quickly, but long-term practice would be necessary for serious results), it didn’t take nearly as long this time.
He did seem to have more of an affinity for transforming things (and probably making and vanishing) than anything else, which he took note of. Making a light source was fairly easy as far as magical skills were concerned; the hard parts were to keep the light there while concentrating on a book, and to modify it so that it came from somewhere above Harry, rather than his palm or index finger.
After a few more beatings from Dudley, Harry was ready to call it quits, make a skill that allowed him to travel very fast and be out of there. However, another idea came to him suddenly: They fear my powers, and potentially me. Why not give them a real reason to?
Learning how to keep his relatives in check became his top priority.
So, he started making a skill to move objects and, when that was mastered, animals. He dared not use it on his relatives until he was much better at it. His first true test? Killing Ripper by planting him into a wall, somewhere he couldn‘t be seen, of course. He made the corpse vanish and washed off the blood by making water (a skill which was obscenely difficult; he managed it after studying Chemistry a lot and months of practice).
Harry also considered something else after he was ready to try magic on his relatives: if they murdered him in his sleep, no level of magical skill would save him. So, as much as he hated what he was doing, he tried giving orders to Dudley. He failed, but had more success with giving him ‘suggestions’. Eventually, he reached a level where he could keep his cousin from remembering something which even he wouldn’t normally forget, and keep it that way for months. Undoing it immediately was another skill Harry practised.
Making Dudley do something he truly didn’t want to was easy after that, but Harry still avoided using it for anything more than practice. Mind control was something that sickened him to the core.
When he could use it on five people and make it stick for longer than two months (potentially much longer, since he didn’t take the time to see his limits yet), he suggested to Vernon, Petunia and Dudley not to ever kill him or try to. Then, the fun began.
-----
-----
Please tell me what you think of this idea, and don't hold back.
On a Similar Path
Harry, the ruthless and powerful wizard
This uses Tom Riddle as inspiration to how Harry develops. True, he won’t be nearly as villainous as Tom, but he will be clearly similar to him regardless.
-----
I don’t own ‘Harry Potter’; I also lay no claim to ‘His Dark Materials’ which is referenced in this story.
(Yes, the anachronism is deliberate. I claim artistic licence; and a canon Playstation in 1992 or so.)
-----
-----
Harry had just become six years old. Most children his age were pretty carefree, even with school‘s burdens; however, Harry Potter was contemplating much heavier matters than the usual, even for adults. To be exact, he was considering dropping his efforts to impress his relatives. Why? Because he was certain they would never care.
“Aunt Petunia! Aunt Petunia!â€
“What is it, boy? Out with it!â€
“Look, my progress report! Perfect scores all around!â€
Petunia looked it over, then turned her nose up and looked to the side, whispering “far better than Dudley.†She returned to her usual shrill, loud voice. “That’s it, boy! Off to the cupboard, with no dinner! You are not better than Dudley, no matter what delusions might enter that head of yours. You hear?â€
His aunt’s reaction to a mention of a birthday party was just as bad; rather than angry and cruel, she was casually cruel (‘of course there will be no party; it’s not like something important happened’).
Even though he was awfully young, some people mature quickly. Harry realised the futility of seeking his ‘family’s’ affection; something which, for some people, might continue well into adulthood. Worse, with others, despair would set in and they likely ended up mentally broken or at least horrible (and usually malicious) shells of their previous selves.
There were also the rare people who, while significantly impacted, still functioned; and, above all, were pure of heart. Harry could have been one of those, but his patience had worn thin. Thus, while he was unbroken and not truly malevolent, he was far from pure-hearted.
‘What should I do? I’ve been studying far ahead, but since I know it won’t change anything now, I should stop. Right?’ After a bit of thinking he decided. ‘No, definitely not. I’ve put too much work into my studies to stop now -hell, I learned how to read when I was four on my own, after almost a year of effort- so why would I stop now? I won’t do it for anyone other than myself; after all, didn’t I want to read to find something to do then?’ Though, to be truthful, he started learning how to read because he saw Vernon trying to teach Dudley (in vain).
Of course, nicking Dudley’s never-used books from the second bedroom without being noticed had been a staple and a passive-aggressive form of revenge for Harry since early on.
-----
Our protagonist’s temper was a lot more volatile than before, due to his optimism having run dry; or it would have been, had cold calculation not held him back. In the past few months, he had progressed in the subtle arts of deception and manipulation. He was much better at acting submissive and using flattery to his advantage, and had managed to keep the Dursleys from ever denying him food, through carefully mentioning the school nurse and how inquisitive she was.
Harry prodded Petunia and managed to get her to put more vegetables and fruit in their diet, even if Dudley never touched them and Vernon only ate them on rare occasions. Another skill he had developed was ‘reading’ people; their body language, minute face twitches and mannerisms, the meanings hidden in words and other such things.
His morals, already ‘flexible’ enough, had become more something in the line of ‘don’t get caught’. Whereas before, he only took Dudley’s books and even returned them afterwards, recently, Harry had sold some of those he no longer needed as ‘slightly used’ at a shop on the other side of Little Whinging.
He used the earnings to buy a small lamp and more powerful light bulbs as a better light source for his cupboard and a flashlight, in order to better read in other dark places. Otherwise, he was pretty careful about what he did; he only ever took things from his relatives, did so on rare occasions and never directly stole money or something that would be missed.
Time went on, Harry got far more clever and deceptive in a gradual process; he progressed in his studies, reaching early secondary school work. His grades hardly reflected his progress, since even for a first grader, Harry looked especially dim; which was an apt description for his cousin, Dudley, after whom he modelled himself in class.
Close to a year had passed since Harry gave up on the Dursleys, he was nearing the age of seven and his carefully controlled emotions were about to show themselves.
-----
Harry was running to save himself. That school year, Dudley had taken to a game he called ‘Harry Hunting’. It involved taking his gang of junior delinquents, catching the aforementioned cousin and beating him up.
He was out of breath, so he stopped for a bit. “Huff, huff, huff. Have, I, lost them?â€
“You wish, Potter!†Said Piers Polkiss, the newest, rat-faced addition in Dudley’s gang.
Piers was the fastest of them; he very well might be the fastest in their grade -along with the next-, with the exception of Harry. Of course, Piers, Dudley and the rest of them had the advantage of numbers - so Harry, for all his cunning, speed and stamina, tended to run out of energy and get beaten up for the few weeks since Piers and his family moved to Little Whinging; even if he sometimes managed to use his stealth to hide well enough to dodge the proverbial bullet.
The beating that day was especially brutal, since Dudley was trying out his new bat. Harry knew better than to fight back, since Dudley’s parents could make his life really hard, which was why he wouldn’t push his luck. It was fortunate that the bat broke rather easily, and that Harry was surprisingly durable.
-----
“Potter!†Snapped the teacher, sneering. “Why do you look like that - have you been picking fights again?â€
Harry rubbed his tender skull, then spoke. “A gang of bullies were picking on me, Ms. Muggleham.†He said, anger mounting.
“A likely story, boy.†She replied, dismissing his words. “Does anyone know what truly happened?â€
Dudley immediately spoke, without bothering to wait for permission. “Ms. Muggleham! Harry tried to beat up a first-year girl and I stopped him. He tried to beat me up then, but he couldn’t.â€
“I see. Apparently, you are incorrigible, Potter. Detention for the rest of the month.†She ignored the light fading out and in repeatedly, and said her piece. “I’ll have to speak to the Headmistress; perhaps expelling you is the only solution, after all.â€
‘That- that bloody - bitch!’ Harry was trembling mildly in his rage and glaring at the fat-arse teacher. Nobody could tell for sure what happened then; the only thing that was certain was that Ms. Muggleham’s wig had disappeared somehow.
-----
“…So you see, Headmistress, there must be a logical explanation for this.â€
The Head of St. Grogory’s Primary School looked unmoved, but she sighed. “I suppose I cannot blame you for this, Mr. Potter,†she told him. “There is also no evidence that you ever bullied any first year girls, so I shall have to ask Mr. Dursley not to say such things.â€
Thus, Harry was spared any punishment at school. However, Dudley described what happened in class that day (the filthy snitch), so Harry was confined to his cupboard for the next four weekends. His meals, on the other hand, remained exactly the same - there is a lot to be said of the value of subtle manipulation.
The Dursleys added to Harry’s chores: breakfast became Harry’s duty, same with tending the garden. The tenuous peace he had established with his Aunt and Uncle had shattered; it was much harder to manipulate them, since they almost never spoke to him for longer than a few seconds, and usually only to… give him ‘fashion advice’ (‘Comb your hair, boy’, ‘fix those wrinkles’). They even actively tried to make him miserable, something that seldom occurred before.
So, we could find our hero inside his cupboard, once again giving deep consideration to something; in this case, the nature of Ms. Muggleham’s wig’s disappearance.
‘There’s no doubt that the Dursleys were right this time. I caused Muggleham’s wig to vanish. No, the question is “howâ€. A better question is “can I reproduce it, on purpose?†’ Harry’s mind had its gears turning at maximum speed.
After a bit of thought, he decided that either he was either some kind of mutant, or a potential magician; maybe both. Harry was reasonably certain that he had to will reality to respond to his, well, will, but needed more information. True to the boy’s character, the answer lay in books. To be exact, he would read as much fiction as possible at the school library in order to think up a way to call upon his power deliberately.
He would rather not have it respond to extreme emotions, since that would mean it could easily get out of control. Harry refused to have any more ‘accidents’. Considering Dudley usually angered him greatly, there was a chance Harry would do something to said cousin, and that might have his horse-faced aunt skewer him on a kitchen knife, or his walrus of an uncle break out his ‘secret’ shotgun.
He could want things with all his heart without anger, hatred, envy or other emotions that could get out of control being involved much, thank you very much.
-----
Most of what Harry read was useless for his purpose (thus quickly discarded), until he stumbled upon the series called ‘His Dark Materials’. Research forgotten, Harry was immersed into a fantastical world of sentient Polar Bears, weird truth-divining devices and, of course, a protagonist who was too fun for her own good.
He snapped out of that immersion when he reached the part describing the focus needed for the use of powerful artifacts such as the Aletheiometer and the subtle knife.
To use them, one had to reach a state of mind in which he or she was focused on one thing, but also calm and detached; they would not be forcing themselves.
From what Harry could tell, it was a form of trance-like state. It seemed like a great idea, or at least a good start. He continued reading the book series on the side, but mainly kept experimenting in an effort to use his powers consciously.
The attempts bore no fruit for quite a while. Harry only had a small breakthrough when he decided to try to transform something into something else, rather than make it disappear entirely.
Despite failing to manage anything worthwhile for over three weeks, Harry persevered. He got better and better at the trance thing, owing to daily practice and a few books on meditation and something called ‘Divination’ he read at the school library, which gave him the impression that his power was likely to be some form of magic. Until, on a literal rainy day, he managed to turn a matchstick into a sewing needle, though not a flawless one. He had got the idea for this particular combination from an elderly woman in odd robes, who was telling what looked like her grandchild that ‘At school, it’s matchsticks to needles first.’
What was even weirder was that the old woman acted like she recognised Harry from somewhere immediately afterwards, and even tipped her hat at him, which felt kind of like a violation of the rules of the universe. Petunia pulled him away immediately - another consequence of the wig incident was that he was no longer allowed to wander off on his own, and the Dursleys often had their eyes on him, which put an end to his creative acquisition of funds due to the risks involved.
-----
“Wake up, boy!†His aunt shouted, with her oh so sweet screech. Petunia never failed to wake Harry up at a quarter past six every morning. In a deviation from routine, she didn’t wait, and opened the cupboard’s door herself. “What in blazes-†She had seen the new addition to Harry’s ‘room’, since Harry had forgotten to switch off the light. “What is this, boy?†She interrogated, holding up the lamp.
“Wha-†Harry wasn’t exactly coherent so early in the morning.
“Don’t play innocent, Potter! Did you steal this?!â€
Harry explained that he got it at a shop with used stuff, even told her which shop it was (fortunately, he was wise enough not to buy things from anywhere near where he sold what he stole) and, when the woman demanded that he tell where he found the money and if he stole it.
“You see, Aunt Petunia, people seem to think my family is hard up on money; not in this neighbourhood, but in other parts of Little Whinging, people sometimes give me money when they see me. I didn’t refuse the gifts; that would be rude, right?†He said, twisting the proverbial knife. He wasn’t truly lying, either, since that had happened more than once, though not often enough for Harry to buy anything more than a few sweets.
Petunia’s face turned a yellowish colour, then the shades of purple Vernon was so prone to, for the first time. Her anger turned into tired resignation quickly, though. “Just- stay in here, boy. No; make breakfast, then return to the cupboard immediately.†At the moment, her already sour personality was showing in her face to the fullest extent. Anyone would agree it made for an ugly sight, including Harry, but he also thought it was a sight for sore eyes. Her suffering, that is.
-----
Harry’s gambit backfired, but he maintained that it was worth it, even if he no longer had any money or a light source at his cupboard. Even the flashlight had been confiscated, not to mention the light bulb the Dursleys had given him. Fortunately, he had hidden the books he had kept in a place they wouldn’t be found. There was, however, a silver lining to the situation. While he didn’t get any new clothes (God forbid!), Petunia was more careful about what hand-me-downs she gave him, and even tailored them herself.
-----
The next part in Project M (from Magic, which might or might not be the proper name) was, of course, to make light. Since Harry had already managed to use magic deliberately more than once (being a bit of a perfectionist, he had practised the transformation repeatedly, until he could do it in less than four seconds. He especially tried to get into the trance more quickly, but long-term practice would be necessary for serious results), it didn’t take nearly as long this time.
He did seem to have more of an affinity for transforming things (and probably making and vanishing) than anything else, which he took note of. Making a light source was fairly easy as far as magical skills were concerned; the hard parts were to keep the light there while concentrating on a book, and to modify it so that it came from somewhere above Harry, rather than his palm or index finger.
After a few more beatings from Dudley, Harry was ready to call it quits, make a skill that allowed him to travel very fast and be out of there. However, another idea came to him suddenly: They fear my powers, and potentially me. Why not give them a real reason to?
Learning how to keep his relatives in check became his top priority.
So, he started making a skill to move objects and, when that was mastered, animals. He dared not use it on his relatives until he was much better at it. His first true test? Killing Ripper by planting him into a wall, somewhere he couldn‘t be seen, of course. He made the corpse vanish and washed off the blood by making water (a skill which was obscenely difficult; he managed it after studying Chemistry a lot and months of practice).
Harry also considered something else after he was ready to try magic on his relatives: if they murdered him in his sleep, no level of magical skill would save him. So, as much as he hated what he was doing, he tried giving orders to Dudley. He failed, but had more success with giving him ‘suggestions’. Eventually, he reached a level where he could keep his cousin from remembering something which even he wouldn’t normally forget, and keep it that way for months. Undoing it immediately was another skill Harry practised.
Making Dudley do something he truly didn’t want to was easy after that, but Harry still avoided using it for anything more than practice. Mind control was something that sickened him to the core.
When he could use it on five people and make it stick for longer than two months (potentially much longer, since he didn’t take the time to see his limits yet), he suggested to Vernon, Petunia and Dudley not to ever kill him or try to. Then, the fun began.
-----
-----
Please tell me what you think of this idea, and don't hold back.
Last edited:
