The Boy Who Failed

Who can say
Why Today
Tomorrow will be Yesterday?
Who can tell
Why to smell
The violet, recalls the dewy prime
Of youth and buried time?
The cause is nowhere found in rhyme.

"Who Can Say?" by Alfred Tennyson

Chapter 1- At Flourish and Dot's

Five years later...

"Excuse me, sir. Excuse me!"

Harry blinked several times and looked around. A plump woman all in blue was standing in front of him and staring.

"Yes?" said Harry, annoyed.

"Do you work here, or do you just like wearing the uniform?" she said. "I need help."

Harry's first instinct was to tell her to bugger off, but since he needed the job, he stopped himself and forced a fake smile to his face. "And how is it I can help you?"

"I'm looking for books by the Bronte sisters."

Harry thought for a second and then led the woman to a more distant part of the shop. "This is all we've got," he said pointing to on of the shelves. "Call me if you need anything else." She nodded.

Harry walked back to the front, muttering "Bitch" under his breath. He sat on a little chair in a corner. The shop was usually empty, this time of day, so he didn't have much to do. He opened his History textbook and started reading the passage their teacher assigned.

"According to the Nazi outlook, the pure blooded German is a product of the forces of nature. The fact of his pureblood is an axiom and thus, so is the anti-purebloodedness of the Jew. The new man has cruel characteristics not because he wishes to be that way but because he is. Cruelness is a noble quality for it is natural and it has to find outlet in order to express its power..."

BOOM!

Harry jumped in his seat and hurriedly looked up. Ged Ponder was grinning at him from the other side of the counter. "What are you reading that is so damn interesting?" he asked, taking away three of the Complete Oxford Dictionary volumes he had dropped on the counter.

"The homework Otak gave us." Harry answered, putting his book away too. "Something you should do too, you know?"

Ged waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, I copy the test from you anyway. So who needs to study?"

"I knew it!" answered Harry, smirking. "I've been saying from the fourth grade that you're my friend only because I actually know what those damn teachers ask in tests."

Ged nodded, smiling, and leaned on the counter. "So, when do you finish here?"

"Let's see, I got here an hour ago and Mr. Mazia'igan is already mad at me." Harry leaned on the counter next to Ged. "So I guess it's gonna be a couple of hours. Why, did that Susan finally chucked you and you didn't want to be alone?"

"Gee, thank you," laughed Ged. "No, nothing like that. It's just that Scott's doing one of his "Magic Mushrooms" things and I didn't want to go alone."

Harry shook his head. "You know I can't go to those things. Last time that bitch smelled that shit on me, you failed Maths."

"I see your point, shame really. Guess I'll have to find someone else."

"Guess you should."

"'K, anyway, I'll go now."

"You could stay here and hang out or something.'

"Nah, I'll go see Susan or something." He half-waved, turned around and walked out of the shop without a second glance.

Harry shook his head and reached for his History book. But he didn't feel like studying anymore.

If truth were told, Ged was probably his best friend. Well, maybe not his best friend, but a friend nonetheless. His screwed-up family never allowed him to have friends. But they didn't allow him a lot of things, not that it had ever stopped him. And, anyway, it's not like his "friends" were the "Through-Fire-And-Ice" shit they show on TV all the time. They were just a bunch of bastards who used him just as much as he did them.

Irritated, Harry threw his book under the counter and went to check on that Big Blue Whale from earlier. How hard was it to pick a bloody book, when you have only three to choose from?

The woman was crouching in front of the bookshelf; Jane Eyre half-opened on her lap. She was slightly smiling. Harry watched her for a moment. That book is bloody depressing, what could she be smiling at?

"You do know it's not a library here?" he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "Either buy it, or leave it."

The woman looked up at him and to his surprise her smile broadened. "I'm sorry." She put the book on the shelf, dusted herself off and took his hand in hers. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter."

Harry didn't even have time to be shocked. She was gone in a blink of an eye, the ringing of the doorbells, the only proof she was ever there.

Harry shook his head. "It's not happening again," he thought and decided that his History homework was a good choice after all.

~*~

"Boy, where's our coffee?" shrieked Aunt Petunia from the living room.

"I'm coming," Harry called back, and added under his breath. "It's not like I'm your slave that has to do every god-damn thing you want me to."

He opened the kitchen door with his elbow and reminded himself he had nowhere else to go. He put the tray with the mugs and the coffee-pot on the table. Harry then, poured the coffee into the two mugs and placed them in front of his aunt and uncle, who were watching some cheesy game show.

"You're blocking the view," barked Uncle Vernon.

"I was going, anyway," muttered Harry, edging towards the kitchen. Maybe, though it wasn't likely, he wouldn't go to sleep hungry.

"What was that?" Aunt Petunia lifted her head from the TV.

"Nothing," answered Harry, stopping.

"Where are you going?" Aunt Petunia's attention was now completely on Harry. She tried very hard to keep Harry as miserable as possible.

"Nowhere," said Harry, avoiding her eyes.

"Then go to your room. I don't want you to be here." Harry nodded and started walking fists clenched.

"Wait a moment," now Uncle Vernon looked up from the television as well. "You came after I did. Where were you?"

"At the book shop," said Harry. He was halfway up the stairs now.

"You come down here when I'm talking to you!" Harry imagined something wasn't right at Uncle Vernon's work and now he was taking it all out on him. He shook his head, sighed and went back into the living room.

"So?" Vernon looked absolutely pissed. "What troubles have you got us into now?"

"Nothing," Harry was getting sick of his uncle's attitude. It's not like he had had an easy day either. "I was at the book shop after school."

"What could you possibly do there?" Uncle Vernon laughed. "It's not like you can read any of those books anyway." Aunt Petunia giggled.

"Better than you," Harry muttered. His stomach was turning over from hunger.

"I heard that!" yelled Uncle Vernon, jumping to his feet. "Be glad, you little piece of -!" But Harry had had enough.

"Little piece of what?" he yelled back. "I should be glad for what? The fact that you don't feed me? The fact that I don't know how new clothes look like? The fact you treat me like your goddamn slave? What?"

A moment's concentration was enough. The big window in front to Harry exploded sending a rain of shattered glass flying all over the room. Vernon and Petunia didn't have time to react before the other two windows exploded as well.

Harry walked up to Uncle Vernon. "Don't mess with me," he hissed and walked away to his room.

Storming up the stairs Harry could hear his aunt and uncle arguing about how exactly they're going to punish him. "A couple of fucked-up bastards," hissed Harry to himself when he reached his room and then slammed the door shut.

He threw himself onto his bed, on his stomach, and tried to calm his breathing. It was always like this. Uncle Vernon would start picking on him and he'll react badly.

When Harry was still a little boy, he'd usually try to run away, but his uncle would always find him. There were times he had been unconscious for hours. But as he grew older, he tried to fight back, using these incidents to explore his strange powers a little more.

Harry rolled to his back. Sometimes he wished to know where these powers came from, or at least how to control them. Other times he wished to be normal.

He sat up in his bed and looked out the window. His head hurt a little, like it usually did. Harry reached up to his forehead to touch his scar. It felt as though the strange scar on his head was trying to tell him something. It wasn't logical, but he believed it nonetheless.

Dismissing the thought, like he usually did. Harry got up and sat on his window-seal, thinking about tonight's fight. The blow had been stronger this time. Of course, he meant to television to blow up, but the windows were good too.

The pain in his scar suddenly increased and Harry had to take off his glasses to rub his eyes. Two street dogs ran up the street.

Harry put his glasses back on and walked back to his bed. At least Dudley was in Smeltings and wouldn't be back until Christmas.

He walked to his bedside table and found one of Dudley's old sweaters, which he could use as a tent, curled up on his bed and fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming about dragons, swords and hunted castles.

~*~

"No! I'm sick and tired of you telling me what to do!"

"Sit down and listen to me. You are my wife and you will listen to what I tell you."

"I'm not your property, Arthur!"

"Yes, you are," shouted the man. He grabbed the woman by her arms and slammed her in to a chair; "You will not disobey me!"

"I will do as I please," she screamed at him, trying to get back on her feet, but he wouldn't let her.

"Stupid woman! Don't you know who you're dealing with?" he hissed in her face.

"Who? A coward of a man who kisses another man's robes?" she spat back at him. Arthur's eyes sparked with fury and he slapped her across her face.

"Don't you ever dare to speak like that to me!" The woman touched her cheek with her fingers; surprised to find it wet. She didn't realise she was crying. She backed away from her husband trying to reach the door. It had been happening for too long and her strength was failing her, she couldn't let it happen again.

"Where do you think you're going?" roared Arthur. "I'm not done with you yet."

"I am!"

"You want to leave me?" he smirked. "You know it's not going to happen."

"Watch me!" she said as she backed away. In three strides, he was in front of her, and although she tried to fight him off it was in vain, he was much stronger than she was. She was thrown onto the table.

The crystal vase, a present from her parents, fell from the table. She could hear it shatter into a thousand little pieces, and it was as if something shattered inside of her.

~*~

Sunlight was streaming through the open window when Harry woke up. He groaned, turned over and looked at his clock.

"Shit!" He sprung from the bed, quickly put on his uniform and started shoving books into his bag.

Harry ran down the stairs and out of the house, not even looking at his aunt and uncle sitting in the kitchen, who were eating and smirking as he ran past.

He sprinted down the road and thanked God that he could run fast enough to reach his first lesson on time. Who knows what Orrimy would do to him if he were late again?

Harry reached the class seconds before the school-bell announced the beginning of the lesson. He sank gratefully into one of the chairs at the back of the class, breathing hard.

Ged leaned back and looked at Harry quizzically. "Why are so out of breath, had a close encounter with Patricia lately?"

Harry shot him an evil look, but Mrs. Orrimy who at that moment entered the room cut off his reply.

"Good morning, class!" she said in the most cheerful voice existing. "And how are you all today? On this lovely November Wednesday!" She had the type of voice that can exclaim a question. It seamed to have an excited little squeak permanently screwed to it.

Harry saw Ged lean over towards Susan, who was sitting on his left. "It's bloody freezing outside. Have you ever met a bigger mental case?" Susan stiffened a giggle in response and Harry went back to listening to the impossibly cheerful teacher.

~*~

"So," asked Ged as he and Harry walked from their math class to Otak's World History lesson. "What was up with you this morning? If you were late again to Chemistry lesson Orimmy would have made us sing "Good morning" again."

Harry flinched. "My aunt and uncle "forgot" to wake me again. Thank God I can run."

"Yeah, definitely. Well, we don't want to be late for Otak either."

"He's a sadist on a completely new level," agreed with him Harry. "Hey, isn't that Scott with your girlfriend?"

Ged hurriedly looked around and bolted into the classroom, yelling something that sounded very much like "Oh, you're dead."

Harry chuckled quietly to himself and went after his friend.

That day they were studying about the rise of the Nazi movement in Germany during the early 30's. Harry found the subject unusually interesting and was actually listening to the teacher's lecture.

Suddenly, someone hesitantly knocked on the door. Everyone, including the teacher, looked up from his or her books and notebooks to see whom it was.

"Yes?" said Mr. Otak in a commanding voice.

A teenage boy, about Harry's age, walked into the classroom and looked around. "Umm..." he said as hesitantly as his knock. "Can I please speak to Harry Potter?"

To be continued...?