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Saturday, October 29, 2005

Posted: Mon, 18 Jul 2005 04:02:45 GMT

Source: So I found this fic while I was looking for the Tri-Wizard cup/Charlie/magical museum/Cedric's ghost fic (which I didn't find. don't think it's on the computer. hum...).

I don't think it has a title because I'm really bad at them, but it's all about how Harry is left-handed. Because that would make him much cooler, as everyone knows. But I don't really remember anything else about it. Except that it was probably supposed to end up Harry/Draco or Harry/Snape. Or possibly no pairing.

Anyway! I'm going to post the prologue, because I can. I'm also not going to read it, not right now at least. Cause I'm busy. But I think it would be good to have it here for safe-keeping.

From the moment That Boy was left on the Dursley's doorstep, they were watching him. After all, they were all too aware of what his parents were like, what sort they were.

Initially, the watching was not too careful; it couldn't be. Their most immediate concern was what to do with the boy. He was a nuisance, a disruption to their quiet little lives. If only he hadn't been left on their doorstep. If only his parents hadn't gotten themselves killed. If only Lilly hadn't married that strange Potter fellow. If only that owl hadn't arrived, officially declaring Lilly's weirdness to the whole family. But they had, she had, and it had, and the totally ordinary couple with this rather extraordinary problem had a thousand questions. Why them? Weren't there other relatives? Anyone? Maybe even a neighbor or friendly postman? Just so long as it wasn't them, anyone would do.

They even a hired detective to look in on the situation. After months of hard searching, no one was found. Little Harry was all alone now but for Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley. As much as it pained them to admit it, the Dursley's were stuck with him. There was no getting rid of him, not any time in the foreseeable future anyway, so it was decided by the elder Dursleys that, if Harry was to be raised along side their precious Dudley, some precautions were in order.

First, a nice, plausible, and (above all) normal explanation for the death of Harry's parents must be concocted. A car crash, perhaps? Yes, a car crash, and it, too, could provide the reason for Harry's unsightly scar. But what of his...heritage? The activities and lives of his parents had been utterly distasteful. Their school, their friends, their "work," their very clothing were things to be avoided at all costs. If Dudley were to be exposed to such things, well, the consequences were nigh unthinkable. As the offspring of such people, it was highly likely that Harry could follow in his parents' footsteps. One never knew; these sorts of traits could be genetic, and, if so, it would be best to stamp out any freakish inclinations at as early an age as possible.

So it was agreed upon. Besides raising their own beautiful boy, Vernon and Petunia Dursley would take it upon themselves to raise Harry, grooming him to become a productive member of society. The sort of person you wouldn't look twice at, could blend into a crowd, and was never a cause for gossip. To accomplish this, Harry would need a firm hand. Who knew the sorts of problems he had already developed from his parents' ways? Any sort of deviation from the norm should be snuffed out the moment it was noticed, and that is when the real watching began.

The first few years passed by fairly uneventfully. That is, with no signs of strangeness. Naturally, he was never as advanced as Dudley. Whereas Dudley soon fleshed out into a nice pink baby plumpness, Harry was always, well, a little scrawny. And Harry's hair, once it grew in that is, was just never right. Even in his infancy it would never conform to any normal sort of style. Sometimes it was almost as if it were trying to get right off his head. Perhaps that was just what it was doing too - trying to get away. This thought first occurred to Mrs. Dursley one evening just before she put Harry to bed and directly after losing yet another battle with his hair. What was it about those locks? It all seemed very . . . strange. Abnormal. And obviously a cause for panic.

After a lengthy consultation with Mr. Dursley, the two decided that while his hair had no overt weirdness about it, it still was not quite natural. It certainly wouldn't blend well into a crowd, so something had to be done about it. Harry was subjected to all manner of haircuts, hair gels, hair relaxers, and hair brushes known to man, but nothing helped. The Dursleys suspected he was doing it on purpose, even if he was only two years old, so they kept watching - both Harry and his hair.

Then, just when they though his hair would be the worst of their worries, something even more terrible happened. Harry started...doing things in a way that just wasn't right. In fact, it was very much left. Whatever it was that Harry wanted to do, whether it was reach for a toy or hold a spoon, he insisted upon doing it all with his left hand. This just wouldn't do, and it caused the Dursleys no end of stress.

After all, everyone knows what left-handed people are like. All one would need to do is pick up a dictionary, and right there in the definition the traits of a lefty are stated: "awkward, maladroit; of doubtful sincerity, dubious: a left-handed compliment."

These left-handed tendencies had to go. Harry was stubborn, but so were the Dursleys. Plus, they had help. Everyone, from Mrs. Figg down the street to Dudley himself, was instructed to not allow Harry to do anything with his left hand. Not a single thing. A series of punishments was established to ensure Harry would quit his odd lefty ways and instead turn to the normal, right ones.

Harry, as stupid and slow as the Dursleys might think he was, soon figured out that his life would be much easier, not to mention less painful and embarrassing, if he would only conform. He made a conscious effort to pick up silverware, cups, and writing implements with his right hand. At first, it was very difficult. I didn't feel correct to him, and made him feel off-balance somehow. But gradually, with a lot of practice and no few reminders from those around him, it got easier. That part of himself that was branded "different" was methodically stamped out until even Harry himself could not remember a time when he was anything but right-handed. At least, he couldn't consciously remember anything else. Beneath the surface level of his mind, however, half-hidden amongst a thousand other things he had done, Harry remembered. He just needed some help to bring those memories back to the surface.


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12:08 PM


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