Disclaimer: All the characters here belong to the High Priestess J. K. Rowling, I have just raided her toy box. I will try to replace them all with minimal harm. The plot is mine and I am making no money from this

Okay this is my first fanfiction written because of the insistence of my best friend, so this story is dedicated to Ang for encouraging me to do what I love. This is going to end up quite long.

Rated PG-13, may rise if people complain about one of the later chapters

I also have one Australian reference in most chapters to make it closer to home for me.

Reviews are welcome and appreciated, as is constructive criticism. Flames won't hurt me because I am my own worst critic anyway./i

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Chapter One: Cats, Casts and so-called Family

Harry was not happy. The holidays almost appeared to have stopped progressing at all, slowing down like an old engine ill with age. Harry longed to be elsewhere, anywhere.

The Dursley's were as hospitable as ever, with Harry being forced to spend a significant portion of the break in the smallest of spare rooms and threatened with the closest under the stairs if he so much as put a hair follicle out of place.

Dudley was on yet another unsuccessful diet. He had grown so fat in the last year that he habitually turned sideways through doorways, though it made little difference. The lack of sugar and saturated fats made Dudley crueler than ever. As a result Harry's glasses were basically broken on arrival and the bandaids hidden from him, so for the first month Harry wandered around like Stevie Wonder, much to Dudley's delight.

Harry was clinging tightly to the stairs one morning as he headed toward the kitchen to make breakfast for the Dursleys. Too late he realised he stepped on what was half of Dudley's skateboard, broken in a tantrum. Harry flung his arms about wildly as he fell. Harry yelled out as inertia had him continue his trail, rapidly descending the stairs. He hit the floor with a heavy thud, landing just before a large pair of polished hush puppies.

Vernon's moustache twitched as he pulled Harry up by the collar of his too-big shirt.

"Why are you so clumsy?" Vernon was right in Harry's face; a purple cobweb of veins protruding against ugly red skin. "Why do you insist on being such a burden on us? You would have to be the most ungrateful thing alive."

Harry had no comeback, no reply. His mind was foggy with pain. He knew instinctively that something was broken in his arm, and he ached everywhere from various body parts hitting the stairs. He tried to straighten but it hurt, so he cradled his left arm gently and grimaced.

"Be a man, or at least the equivalent of a grown up whatever-you-are. Go and make breakfast, now."

Harry looked defiantly at his uncle momentarily, but turned, dejected and headed for the kitchen.

Somehow Harry made breakfast one-handed through the pain he thought would consume him slowly. During cleaning up Harry was told that he would be spending the day with Arabella, as the Dursleys had an important function at Dudley's school. Something to do with fees, funding and extra participation credit.

Harry showed up on the woman's doorstep, believing he was going to pass out from pain. If not, he was contemplating the creation of some diversion for Old Mother Hubbard and then somehow getting himself to hospital.

"Good Morning." Vernon formally greeted the swinging door. The little lady peered out into the sunlight; a couple of cats escaping through her legs.

"Hello Vernon, hello Harry. Are you alright?"

Vernon coughed. "Harry fell down the stairs this morning, clumsy thing he is. It appears he hurt his wrist but…" Vernon leaned toward the woman conspiratorially. "I think he may be acting up, you know, trying to get attention."

"I see," the stoic reply "Right. Well, come in Mr. Potter, I want to introduce you to a new cat of mine."

Harry's eyes rolled involuntarily, but halted midway as a tiny, marmalade kitten with blue eyes walked casually towards the door. It was one of the cutest little things. Not at all like Crookshanks or Mrs. Norris. Gently with his good arm Harry scooped up the ball of fluff and stepped into the smell of dust.

The door shut and a deep sigh arose from the little woman.

"Come here please Harry."

"What's his name?"

"Fagan. Now would you please put him down and come here."

Harry obeyed. The little lady lifted his left arm gently. "It's broken. Come on we'd better get that fixed."

Together they walked back out the door and towards the nearest muggle hospital, Fagan watching intently.

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Coming back, hours later, Harry thought this attempt at fixing his spiral fracture was definitely up on the last time someone had tried to mend his broken arm. A white plaster cast shrouded his left arm from the base of his fingers to the elbow. It throbbed a bit and itched like hell, but the painkillers the nurses had given him temporarily made the world seem sort of dull.

Harry and Arabella rounded the last corner to discover Vernon standing on the doorstep, red faced and bulged-eyed. Without missing a beat Catwoman stalked up to Vernon and rested her hand on his arm.

"It appears young Harry here did break his arm Vernon. I would gently suggest that you ask your son to put his things away when he is finished to prevent accidents such as this."

Harry looked up, mouth wide. He had not uttered one syllable about the circumstances around his broken arm.

Vernon's face changed from red to maroon. "Right, um, yes, well. We'll see to it that it doesn't happen again. Good day to you Arabella."

"Goodbye Harry."

"Goodbye." Harry almost growled, momentarily hating the woman for not realising the repercussions of what she had said.

Vernon and Harry got in the car and Aunt Petunia started. "What did you tell her Harry? That it was all Dudley's fault? It is hardly Dudley's fault that you are careless and clumsy. How dare you blame my little Dudley for this."

Dudley sneered the whole way through the lecture. Harry wished the Avada Kedavra wasn't an unforgivable curse.

Aunt Petunia still thought that the sun shone through Dudley, and Dudley could do no wrong, much to Harry's chagrin. While Dudley was larger than ever, Petunia was skinnier. Her dominantly horsy features were gradually being replaced with something that more closely resembled an Emu. She still spent a significant portion of her time staring out the window, desperate to know the goings on of the rest of the neighbourhood. Harry wondered if he would walk down the stairs one day to find Aunt Petunia catatonic, forever staring out at something she wasn't supposed to see.

"You ought to get a whipping for telling Arabella stories about Dudley" Vernon's moustache twitched as if it were exactly what he had decided to do, but Harry had another card he had yet to pull out of his sleeve.

"I don't think that Sirius is going to be impressed that I am going back to Hogwarts with broken glasses and a plaster cast. If you add bruises to the collection than there is definitely going to be…words."

Harry occasionally used his Godfathers unprecedented status to his advantage, and it always worked. Vernon's pallor changed to a deathly grey and upon getting home, Harry was presented with the Bandaids.

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It wasn't too torturous, was it?