A/N: So this is my response to d27dyer's "Give Harry your Personality" challenge. Its not gonna be cohesive at all, more of a 'skip to the good parts' style.

So without further ado, I present to you...

HARRY POTTER AND THE NOODLE THINGS OF MAGIC, I GUESS
A Production by PixelKind413 Entertainment

BOOK 1: THE HIGHLY IMPROBABLE MAGICAL ROCK

Harry stared at the fridge speculatively. It was Dudley's birthday, and he'd been instructed to make breakfast. Now, it was a normal thing for Harry to not be allowed to eat any breakfast, since Uncle Vernon and Dudley literally ate everything. Today, Harry was taking that as a personal challenge.

"What's taking you so long, boy?" screeched his Aunt Petunia from where she was pampering Dudley.

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia." He replied as he pulled out the entire dozen eggs and the two biggest frying pans he could find.

Ten minutes later, Petunia stared at the child. "What on earth made you cook literally every breakfast item we had in the fridge?"

Harry shrugged. "Dudley and Uncle Vernon usually eat a lot, and they really like breakfast. I just got so caught up in it being Dudley's special day, I guess?"

Petunia glanced at her nigh-comatose husband and son, then the mountain of uneaten eggs, bacon, sausages, hash, and pancakes before sighing. She couldn't really fault the boy's logic, and regardless of her opinion of him, she considered it a cardinal sin to waste food.

"I suppose you can eat now, boy."

Harry turned his wide green eyes up at the massive stranger who had knocked down the door of the Hut On The Sea.

"I'm a... wizard?"

Hagrid smiled down on him. "Yep. A darned good one, too, I'll bet."

"So how does this whole wizardy thing work? Do I get to shoot fireballs or something?"

Hagrid blinked. "Er... not yet, I don't think. That sorta thing's usually done in the upper years?"

The eleven year old frowned. "What year do they teach you how to defy the basic laws of physics?"

Hagrid blinked again. "The wha'?"

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long night.

"WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, HOLD UP!" shouted the eleven-year-old. Everyone in the Leaky Cauldron paused in their mobbing of the child to listen.

"If someone could please explain why I'm so popular all of the sudden, that would be great. I suspect it's my flawless good looks and irresistible personality, but I haven't actually been mobbed before. Unless this is what normally happens in pubs?"

Hagrid coughed awkwardly.

Harry stared at the massive piles of gold in his vault. "This... is all mine?"

Hagrid nodded. "Yer parents were well off, Harry. Did yeh think they'd leave yeh nuthin?"

Harry shrugged, still staring. Suddenly, he broke out into a whoop and jumped onto a pile of Galleons as if they were leaves. Suffice to say, they weren't.

"Ow. Mistakes were made."

Harry stared at the blonde ponce, completely unimpressed. "Look here, Dranco-"

"My name is Draco Malfoy, you idiot."

"That's what I said. Anyways, why should I care one whit about what your 'father' thinks?"

The pureblood heir straightened up, inscenced. "My father is Lucius Malfoy himself, you ignorant peasant. He is Minister Fudge's right-hand man, and on the Hogwarts Board of Governors!"

"I repeat," said Harry blandly. "Why should I care?"

"Tell me your name, fool, so I can make sure Father has the opportunity to show you precisely why you should care!"

"Harry Potter."

Smirking at the now-pale Draco, Harry turned on his heel and strode out of the robe shop purposefully.

Harry eyed the eccentric wandmaker dubiously. "But if the wand chooses the wizard, how do you know a wand will pick the right wizard? I mean, potentially, if I were really attractive from the wand's point of view, all these wands would be lining up to choose me. How can you be sure the first match is the best, you know?"

Ollivander grinned at the child. "Wands are much more honest than wizards, Mr. Potter." He went back into the wand shelves and started pulling out thin boxes.

Harry harrumphed. "With all due respect, snapping turtles are more honest than wizards. They have no capacity to lie whatsoever - they don't even have a language to lie in."

The man paused in his wand retrieval to turn to the young wizard. "And I suppose you'll want to go to Hogwarts wielding a snapping turtle rather than a wand?"

Harry snorted. "You've got me there, sir."

After about fifteen minutes of being handed wand after wand without success, Ollivander reverentially brought out one single box. "I wonder..."

"What?" asked Harry as he absentmindedly grabbed the wand and waved it. With a deafening 'PSHOOOOOOO' sound, the holly-and-phoenix-feather wand rocketed out of his hand and, trailing bright blue sparks, smashed out the store window. The two wizards peered out the shattered window frame into the now-frantic chaos of Diagon Alley.

"I suppose I'll have to look in the back for a suitable match for you," mused the wandmaker.

"I don't care if that one doesn't like me," replied Harry slowly. "It hit that Malfoy kid in the face - I'm buying it."

Harry lounged across the seat in the train compartment, reading the DADA textbook he was holding in front of his face. Someone knocked on the door, Harry's eyes flicked over to the frosted glass before calling out. "Come in."

The door slid open, revealing a redheaded boy with freckles. "Um, hi. Mind if I sit in here? All the other compartments are taken."

Harry shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

The kid grinned weakly and lugged his trunk in behind him. He sat down opposite Harry, staring at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off.

"If you're about to make some remark about me being Harry Potter, my scar, or this 'You-Know-Who' fellow... don't."

The redhead closed his mouth. He watched as Harry changed his reading position every few pages, from normal sitting to draping his body across the seat upside-down with legs crossed against the wall. Suddenly, Harry put a bookmark in the book and shut it with a loud thud.

"Right. Socialization. Let's get to it."

The redhead stared. "Wha-"

"I finished the chapter," said Harry by way of explanation. "So, what's your name?"

"Ron Weasley..."

"Excellent. My name is Harry Potter but you can call me Harry. What're your thoughts on magic?"

Ron shrugged. "What about it?"

Harry stared for a moment. "Oh, wait, are you from a magical family?"

"Yeah."

"That'll explain it. Got any siblings? What do your parents do? Know any spells already?"

"Um, I've got 5 brothers and a sister. My dad works in the Ministry, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. And Fred and George taught me this one to make my pet rat turn yellow."

Harry grinned. "Cool. Could you show me?"

Ron took out Scabbers and began brandishing his wand, before the door to the compartment slid open. A bushy-haired brunette stuck her head in, but they could see a short, somewhat pudgy, nervous looking kid behind her.

"Have either of you seen a toad? Neville's lost his and we're checking the whole train. I'm Hermione by the way, Hermione Granger."

Harry blinked. "We're going to magic school and you're actually running up and down the train looking for it?"

Hermione shrugged shrugged. "Well, neither of us actually know any magic yet."

"Yeah, but older students are a thing?"

She nodded, but noticed Ron holding his wand. "Oooooh! Are you doing magic?"

Ron nodded.

"Let's see it, then!" the overenthusiastic girl sat down and leaned towards the redhead.

"Um... sunshine, daisies, butter mellow! Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"

Ron's face fell when nothing happened. Harry closely inspected the rat while the girl fired questions.

"Are you sure that's a real spell? I tried a few at home and they worked fine. I really hope I'm not at a disadvantage to everyone else - I memorized all the course books by heart, of course."

Neville, who was still outside the compartment, squeaked in alarm.

"How impressively useless," commented Harry, not even looking up from the rat.

The bushy-haired girl turned to Harry, incensed. "Excuse me?"

"Memorizing the textbooks by heart. No point in doing that."

"What do you mean, no point? We're going to be working out of those books for the next year!"

"I'd consider it a much better use of your time to try and understand what the books are saying, rather than absorb blocks of words, you know?"

Hermione shrugged. 'What's the difference?"

"I mean, here." Harry opened back up his Defense textbook. "What is the subject of page 56 of this book?"

"The strengths and weaknesses of the common mountain troll."

"Good. Now what would you do if you ran into one?"

Hermione paused for a moment, before responding. "I suppose I'd have to trick it somehow, or just escape?"

"See? It took you a moment to parse the raw data into usable information. You linked the idea of 'mountain trolls' to the page of your defense textbook, which you mentally reread and created an idea from there. A lot less efficient than linking 'mountain trolls' directly to their attributes."

Hermione blushed. "I suppose you have a point. I didn't catch your name?"

Harry grinned. "Harry Potter."

A small gasp reminded them of Neville's existence. Hermione soldiered on. "I've read about you, you know. You're in-"

Harry cut her off. "Lots of books that don't actually know diddly, I assure you."

She gave an indignant huff. "Then why do you let them write stuff about you?"

He shrugged. "Guardians don't care, I haven't gotten a good lawyer."

Neville entered the compartment and sat down.

"What House do you think you'll be in? I hope I get into Gryffindor - I heard it's the best house."

"Having a 'best house' defeats the purpose of the House system. Also, Hufflepuff."

Ron blinked. "What do you wanna be a 'duffer for?"

Harry shrugged. "If you can refer to yourself with a word like 'Hufflepuff' while keeping a straight face, you're already a legend. It's that or Ravenclaw."

Harry stared at the cat sitting on Professor McGonagall's desk. "You know, it would be my luck if our teacher accidentally got herself stuck as a cat right before our class."

The cat leapt off the table and turned into his teacher. Harry leaned back in his chair. "Called it!"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Potter, our new... celebrity."

"Yeah, I'm here."

Snape glared at him before moving on to the next name. After he finished the list, he swept to the front of the classroom and began speaking in a quiet, dangerous tone.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry stared in awe, before shrugging. "I'm not sure, sir."

"Tut, tut-fame clearly isn't everything."

"Clearly," commented Harry sardonically. Hey - if the teacher was going to be rude, so was he.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I assume the apothecary is the incorrect answer?"

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

"I mean, I thought I would have a decent teacher before coming as well, but the first three minutes of class fixed that."

Snape's eyebrow twitched.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry sighed and deliberately removed his Potions text from his bag. He flipped to the index and found monkshood, and then flipped to the respective page.

He looked up at the teacher. "It would appear they are the same plant. Sir."

"One point from Gryffindor for each word you have spoken, for your cheek. Ten more points for reading after I asked you a question."

Harry stared. The Potions Master simply raised his eyebrows and continued speaking.

"I do believe you have set a new record for points lost in the first Potions Class of the year, Potter. Fifty-five. Knowing your father, I expect you will consider this an achievement."

Harry shrugged and stayed silent. If his teacher was going to ignore his black-and-yellow tie, that was his prerogative.

"Hey, Granger!" Harry sat down directly across from the muggleborn witch. "You're brainy, yea?"

Hermione sighed and looked up from her book. "What do you want, Potter? Homework help?"

"No, actually." Harry leaned forwards over the table. "I just wanted to ask your opinion on something."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"You know the Levitation Charm, yeah?"

"Yes, although we haven't covered it in class yet. Why?"

"I'm curious. Tell me, can you use it to lift something in any direction, or just up?"

Hermione blinked. "I... I think it's just up...?" she said slowly. 'Why do you ask?"

'Well, you see," Harry leaned back against his chair. "I'm reasonably certain the moving staircases are trying to assassinate me, or at the very least get me in detention. I've been thinking about circumventing them entirely."

"Professor Flitwick?"

The diminutive Charms Professor looked up at Harry. "Yes, Mister Potter?"

"Sir, I was wondering if there was some sort of, erm, Grappling Hook charm that's easy enough for a first year to use?"

Flitwick thought for a moment, before grinning. "I'm afraid that no such Charm exists, to the best of my knowledge."

Harry sensed a 'but' in there somewhere. "Oh?"

"Allow me to amend that statement. No such Charm currently exists, that I know of."

Harry's eyes lit up. "You don't mean...?"

Flitwick just grinned wider.

"HAHA! I do love innovation, Professor!"

"You do understand," said Flitwick seriously, "that I will not be doing this for you. I will help guide you, and hopefully provide a factor of safety, but you must do all the work yourself."

"Oh, yes, sir. These are the best kinds of projects!"

"NO! I REBUKE YOU, LIBRARY-SATAN!"

Hermione stared at Harry as he brandished a cross symbol using his wand and his left hand. "What."

"I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE THIS FROM ME!"

"Take what?"

"I KNOW YOUR KIND, DEMON! IF I EVEN TELL YOU ABOUT THIS PROJECT, YOU WILL POINT OUT MY FLAWS AND OFFER GOOD IDEAS AND I WILL NOT STAND FOR THAT! BEGONE, FIEND!" Harry repeated the gesture with his makeshift cross.

Hermione, of course, only heard one word of that. "Did you say... project?"

Harry let out a small scream and scooped all his noted up into his arms. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

A few minutes and halfway to the Hufflepuff Common Room later, Harry lay on the floor, surrounded by his notes, with his legs quite literally turned to jelly. "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LET ME HAVE THIS?"

Harry complained the entire way back to the Charms classroom.

"You know, I'm pretty sure this is discrimination. It's because I'm beautiful, isn't it!"

Hermione swatted him in the back of the head and continued dragging him down the hallway. 'Don't be ridiculous. It's because you of all people were given an extra credit project! Not me but you! If anything is discrimination, it's that!"

"Look, just because you seem to have some sort of inferiority complex - understandable, since I'm involved - doesn't mean you have to try and put down my limitless intellect! That's called bullying, and I will not stand for it! Mostly because my legs are still made of jelly, but still!"

She ignored him and knocked violently on the room to the classroom. The door swung open, revealing Professor Flitwick himself. He glanced between the two of them, before sighing. "Oh dear. Come in, please!"

As soon as they entered the room, Hermione began speaking indignantly. "Professor! What's this about you giving him" she hefted Harry in her off hand, still holding him by the collar, "an extra credit project, but not me?"

Harry raised a hand. "Technically, I gave me an extra credit project in his vicinity."

She shushed him. "Am I not a good student? Do you think I wouldn't be able to handle it?"

He shook his head sadly. "I really should have expected this. Miss Granger, Mister Potter came to me with a need. He is not doing this for a grade, but for something he can use. Giving him credit for his work is the least I could do. You on the other hand, seem to be here on some sort of crusade for nothing but the highest grade you can get. Between the two of you, who seems to be the most deserving of an extra credit project?"

Hermione was silent for a moment, before nodding. "You're right. I'm sorry, Professor."

"Oh, yes, that's also twenty points from Gryffindor for casting offensive spells on and manhandling a classmate."

Hermione paled.

Nymphadora Tonks had been watching the firstie in the corner for a few minutes, now. Parchment was spread out on the floor around him, and he seemed to be making diagrams and moving them around. Finally, her curiosity grew too strong, and she sauntered over to the kid.

"Hey, kiddo, whach'ya doin'?"

He looked up, grinning enthusiastically. "Hello! I'm trying to design a grappling hook spell I can use at my current level! Professor Flitwick said he'd give me extra credit for it!"

Her eyebrows rose. "You sure you can handle that? Spellcrafting is usually done after a year or two of Arithmancy."

He shrugged and idly sucked on the end of his quill. "Well, yeah, but I'm not making new spells from scratch, am I? I'm just cobbling together different spells in the hopes of lowering the power requirements. See, right here I'm using the Grab-and-Pull spell, Carpe Retractum, as the base, except instead of making the rope directly out of magic, I'm trying to swap in the rope conjuration from Incarcereros."

Tonks leaned over the equations in question, before nodding. "Yeah, but isn't conjuration more power-intensive than just having the spell be the rope?"

He waved his quill excitedly. "See, that's the thing! Conjuration takes magical energy and converts it directly into mass, but if I just conjure a tiny bit of rope and use a conditional enlargement spell on it, I should be able to get much more mileage from it!"

She nodded thoughtfully. "That's actually pretty smart. Hey, if you don't mind, I have an idea?"

He tilted his head. She leaned over and circled a small portion of the rope conjuration section.

"See this? This is the section that actualizes the rope. It changes it from the idea of a rope into actual physical rope. That's the power-intensive part of conjuration. If you take that out..." she trailed off.

He picked up the thread. "Without it, rather than swinging from actual rope, I'd be swinging from the idea of rope! Not only is that more efficient in terms of power, but its also more reliable! Brilliant!" he quickly scribbled out a note, before turning to her curiously. "Say, what's your name?"

She grinned. "Tonks. Just Tonks."

Harry grinned excitedly and set the Dictaquill down carefully on the parchment. He cleared his throat and glanced at Professor Flitwick, who nodded encouragingly.

"Dictaquill, On. Trial One of Grappling Hook Spell. Let's go."

He took a deep breath, before waving his wand in a complex pattern, muttering syllables under his breath. With a final flick, glowing green rope began spewing from his wand at high velocity, launching him backwards from the sheer rate of mass expelled. "Finite, Finite, FINITE!"

He dragged himself to his feet and trudged over to the table. "Trial One, Failure. Lack of momentum stabilization, excessive mass expelled from wand. Dictaquill Off."

He groaned and thunked his head down on the table. Flitwick patted him on the back sympathetically. "If at first you don't succeed..."

"Try, try again," Harry mumbled against the cold wood of the desk. "With all due respect, sir, you're speaking to a Hufflepuff."

"Indeed, I am."

"I think I might be developing an allergy to math."

"Dictaquill On. Trial Fourteen of Grappling Hook Spell. Streamlined the rope creation process, enabled iterative expansion charms. Let's do this."

Harry cast the spell. Neon blue rope shot out the end of the wand, smacking into the wall and coiling up at the base.

"Finite Incantatem."

He walked back over to the desk. "Trial Fourteen, Failure. Rope mechanism worked fine, but it continued expansion after impact. Dictaquill off."

"Dictaquill On. Trial Thirty-seven of Grappling Hook Spell. Reconfigured Boolean Expansion conditionals, reformatted the helixical wand motions."

"Trial Thirty-seven, failure. I'm close, though! The spell pulled my wand out of my own hands. Considering running an inverse of the disarming charm at moment of impact. Dictaquill Off."

"Trial Eighty-four, failure. Rope combusted on impact, fingers are now burnt. Maybe I should invest in a broomstick, next year?"

Susan Bones stared apprehensively at the large package that lay on the table in front of Harry. "Um, Harry?"

He looked up from the Ancient Runes book in his hands. "Yeah, Susan?"

"What's... that?"

He grinned and patted the package with his heavily bandaged right hand. "Harpoon gun."

She blinked. "Why do you need a harpoon gun?"

He scribbled something on the parchment next to him, before turning back to the book. "So I can enchant it into a grappling hook."

She considered that for a moment. "But... why not just buy a grappling hook, then?"

He snorted. "Because that's cheating."

Susan sighed and went back to her breakfast. Why were her classmates so weird?

"Trial Eighteen of Enchanted Grappling Hook, failure. Harpoon gun melted, internal mechanisms no longer function. Back to spellcrafting, I suppose. Dictaquill Off."

"Trial number, uh, one hundred and something. Success, kind of? Unexpected impact with stone wall. Must see Madam Pomfrey for concussion. Dictaquill Off."

Harry staggered into the room and practically threw the Dictaquill at the parchment. "Dictaquill On. Unscheduled field testing of Grappling Hook Spell, October 31. Successfully retrieved classmate - Subject Granger - from across a restroom. It appears that Newton's Laws do not apply to intent-based spells as long as you don't think too hard. Also succeeded in Grapple-swing-kicking a mountain troll in the face."

Harry paused for a moment, before continuing.

"Probably the coolest thing I've done in my life. Dictaquill Off."

"Dictaquill On. Unscheduled field testing of Grappling Hook Spell, November 8. Successfully Grappled to nearby Bludger after my broom decided not to like me anymore. Apparently, swinging from the enchanted cannonball is not against the rules of Quidditch, and I successfully caught the Snitch. In my mouth, but it counted. Dictaquill Off."

Tonks grinned and playfully pushed Harry's shoulder. "Looks like you really did get that spell to work, huh? What was it, your twelfth try?"

He shook his head, amused. "Trial number one hundred and nine was the first successful casting. I got a concussion from that one."

Tonks just stared. "Merlin's saggy left-"

Tonks draped herself across the back of the chair Harry was sitting in. "What're you doin now?"

He looked up from his parchments. "You ever read those Spiderman comics?"

She nodded. "Yea, my dad's a Muggle. Those things are classics."

He held up an old, battered wand holster, along with a miniature, deformed harpoon.

She blinked. "You're not serious."

He nodded. "I did kind of melt the harpoon gun, but that was probably because technology and magic don't really mix well. If I manage to enchant the harpoon with a high-powered sticking or immovability charm, and the holster with a focused inverted summoning charm..."

"Kid, you're insane."

"Hey, all the fun people are!"

"Trial Fifteen of Enchanted Wrist Grappling Hook, failure. It would appear I accidentally invented a magical, wrist-mounted rocket launcher. Unfortunately, the testing location is now lacking two windows and a door, and I might need a new uniform. Dictaquill Off."

"Dictaquill On. Field Test of Grappling Hook Spell brings another success. Spell is capable of successfully carrying the caster and a month-old dragon - Subject Norbert - from the Black Lake to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Ron's brother was impressed. Dictaquill Off."

Harry tossed the Dictaquill onto a nearby parchment from his bed in the Hospital Wing.

"Dictaquill, On. Unscheduled Field Testing of both the Grappling Hook Spell and the Enchanted Wrist Grappling Hook, partial success. The spell was used to successfully avoid a patch of Devil's Snare and pull an enchanted key from the air. The Enchanted Wrist Grappling Hook did not work as advertised, but the resultant blast did knock over a ten-foot-tall marble Wizard's Chess King. The Flame-Freezing Charm, taught to me by Madam Pomfrey after Trial Eighty-Four, was successful in circumventing a barrier of fire, and it appears that the Grappling Hook Spell can, in fact, remove a turban from a man's head. No comment on what was underneath, but Dumbledore is going to have to hire a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher next year. Dictaquill Off."

And so ends book 1. I did kinda skip a lot of the book, but Harry was entirely focused on trying (and failing) to upgrade his Enchanted Wrist Grappling Hook. It would appear complex runic structures are beyond his reach... for now.

I don't know if I'll actually write a book 2 yet. Maybe if I get bored enough?