AN: I've never done a purely Harry potter fic. I've always wanted to but I could never come up with a decent enough story line that wasn't already mass produced.

Until now.

I don't know how unique it is but I'd like to think it is a one of a kind for the time being. Hope ya like it.

Chapter One.

Minerva Mcgonagall disliked the Dursleys. That day she had observed them from afar, disguised as a cat, she learned for the first time how to utterly despise someone, to look down upon them for the savages that they are. And as she watched them, her disgust with them only grew. And when Dumbledore told her his plan to leave the boy-who-lived with these…people she had tried with all her might to convince him that this was not a wise decision. Harry would not survive these savages. She just knew it. But Dumbledore just smiled, his damn eyes twinkling as he said everything would work out fine in the end, and to trust him. There was something about the way he said those words that unnerved her, as if he was hiding some unknown hidden purpose…

But she relented. As hesitant as she was to do so, she relented.

And for the next ten years she waited anxiously until the day that she would see the boy again, if only to be assured that he'd at least been able to grow. And as she waited she built up this image in her head. She imagined meeting a malnourished, timid, broken soul of a boy desperate for any sort of positive attention. She had come up with all sorts of horror stories in her head, painting and drawing the Dursleys up to be vicious ugly monsters that she couldn't wait to pull Harry away from.

That is why she demanded to go and retrieve the boy herself, when the letter that was sent to him went unanswered. She was going to get her answers and yes, even a bit of revenge for the boy by putting the Dursleys in their place.

But when she appeared in a pop of apparation, she immediately noticed that something was up. The atmosphere was charged with energy. A lingering feeling hung in the air, singing to her magic and making her sense of paranoia go haywire. She spun in a constant circle, as she approached number four of Pivot Drive, trying to pinpoint the reason for the sudden attack of her own senses.

"I wouldn't step right there if I were you."

The sudden voice of the woman speaking with a slightly flat but clipped tone coming from behind her almost caused her to jump out of her skin. Spinning around she barely fought down the urge to draw her wand and faced the Dursleys. Petunia and Vernon stood before her. Or perhaps some other parody of the two stood before her. They were so very different looking than the last time he'd laid eyes on them. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Vernon spoke before she could gather her thoughts. His voice was strong and full of amusement and a sort of resignation that had come from something he'd had to accept years ago.

"That there's a trap," he began. "And a right bloody good one too. It'll string you up faster than you can draw that stick of yers and I guarantee you won't leave it unmarked."

His arms were crossed over a broad chest, a far different image than the fat slob she'd seen years ago. Vernon was still a large man, this is true. Genetics itself seemed to constrain the man to a big body. However what used to be layers upon layers of fat and rolls had seemingly been transformed. She could see the muscle rippling beneath his skin, ready to be put to work in a moment. And over that was a thin layer of fat he'd probably never get rid of, but there was no denying at all that the man was in excellent…impeccable shape. His face, no longer round and swollen looking was actually quite fetching. Even with that funny looking mustache. And his eyes were bright and blue and full of life. He stood there, dressed in brown slacks and a dress shirt of an off white variety.

Petunia likewise was stunning. What was once a long stick thin waif of a woman with a horse-like face and a long giraffe pencil neck was a tall slender woman of beauty and inhuman grace. She stood there, with more meat on her bones than she'd ever had before, a cascade of taught muscle accentuating her every curve. Thighs, hips and waist…all of it was there and the way she stood reminded Mcgonagall of a feline ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. Her eyes were alert, taking in every single minute detail of her surroundings and filing them away for action later. If she hadn't known what type of people these two were, she would have thought she was looking at a pair of warriors. What the hell was all this?

Minerva's observations took less than five seconds before the words spoken by the Dursleys finally registered. Looking down to the area she had been about to step into, she saw nothing at first. She looked back up, a question on her lips but was once again stopped as she saw the pair kneeling in opposite sides of the yard. But before she could stutter in shock at the speed and silence at which the pair had moved, there was an audible twang in the air and the entire area in front of her spanning a surface of five feet shimmered to life with near invisible wire as it loosened and fell to the ground. And as the wire fell she felt a slight shock beneath her feet as something very obviously mechanical clicked and settled again.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley rose almost at the same time and, pocketing what looked like a metal steak before seeming to dance across their yard, hopping twirling, ducking and bending as they moved, returning to their porch. They moved with experience and ease, as if they had grown accustomed to such movements. And looking closer, Minerva could finally see why. The whole yard was littered with trap trip wires. The Dursleys danced through, over and under them without even having to look at where they were. They weaved in and out of the web of danger like they'd been doing it their whole lives. And it was at this sudden moment that she understood just how these two had gotten into such wonderful shape. But even all of this did not explain the obvious magical charge in the air or the way the two exuded a beauty on par with many magical creatures.

"So I suppose you're here for my nephew," began Petunia, an unreadable look on her face. "Well come on then. Move in a straight line for exactly three and a half steps, each two feet in length then step once directly right. Move up two more paces then come to the porch at a forty degree angle. I'll heat up some tea. I imagine we have quite a bit to discuss."

And with that the Dursleys turned and entered their home, making sure to duck their heads under a trip wire as they did so.

Minerva Mcgonagall followed the directions in a daze.

Yeah there was definitely much to talk about.

Tea with the Dursleys was a quiet affair. The witch and the two muggles sipped their drinks down at a calm moderate pace, each one coming up with and failing to produce the best ice breaker in their minds, until finally Vernon just went for it and snorted. "I'm surprised you didn't just teleport to the porch. Your lot can do that right?" There was a chuckle from the man from behind his cup. "Probably best you didn't though. Dud's traps are nothing to sneeze at and a right nightmare to get out of but also quite fun to see as well, eh dear?" Petunia sent a mild glare at her husband as her cheeks gained a slight dusting of pink.

"Anyway," she said, totally cutting off her husband before he could say some other embarrassing thing. "Let's get down to business. Ask your questions then. I can tell you have quite a few." She gave a knowing smirk, one that really didn't fill Minerva with any good feelings. Oh yes she had questions! Like what the hell are trip wires doing all over the property? Why the bloody hell are they using them? Are they using this shit to imprison Harry!? All of these and more wanted to explode from her mouth all at once. But what came out was, "Why hasn't harry responded to our letter?" Her tone was accusatory and her eyes were glinting, as if daring them to say the wrong thing. They both were unaffected. Vernon actually snorted derisively while Petunia seemed to sigh in annoyance. At what, Minerva couldn't quite decipher.

"Oh yes," began Harry's Aunt as she reached into her shirt, a lily white blouse with a moderately low cut that exposed just the barest hints of her chest and pulled out a battered looking off white envelope. "His…invitation letter right? Here it is." The thing was covered in dirt and…blood? The wax seal hadn't even been touched. Petunia slid the letter to Mcgonagall with a rather expert looking flick of the wrist and then linked her fingers together under her chin. It was the real deal. Here it was in her own handwriting, addressed to a mister Harry James Potter of number four Pivot Drive. Hogwarts School of witchcraft and Wizardry. She eyed the letter, taking in its battered state, the stains of blood and dirt and she felt her anger begin to rise.

"What is this?" her words were quiet and deadly. They were a whisper on the wind, ready to explode in a fury of magic. If these...these…muggles dared to hurt-!

"Calm yer tits, witch," said Vernon, protective hostility upon his voice as he stared Mcgonagall down. "We've done nothing to the boy."

"Quite right," finished Petunia, her voice showing only the barest hint of the nervousness she felt at seeing the angry witch before her, past memories reminding her just what these people were capable of. But she pressed on. "Harry is a member of our family. Honestly I'm quite insulted actually that you would dare to assume we'd be capable of whatever imagined horrors you'd schemed up in that head of yours."

"Then what is all of this!?" Her voice was just below the point of full on yelling as she rose to her feet and gestured with her hands. "What the bloody hell is going on around here then? Where is Harry?"

"Upstairs I imagine."

Vernon's response was immediate and uncaring. He shrugged, while running a hand through his short blonde hair. "Little beast's been up there all day." His tone was indulgent, affectionate and full of annoyed amusement and it was this alone that made Mcgonagall sit down in shock as she gaped. Who the bloody hell were these two? These were not the Dursleys! But her shock was quickly replaced by mounting frustration. "Mister and Missus Dursley This is not something to be so…uncaring about! This whole situation is…is…"

"You wanted to know why Harry hasn't responded to that letter right?" Petunia's intervention was very well timed. Vernon wasn't helping at all and that annoyed her. But when she glared at him he simply shrugged and gave her a look. "You're the magic expert. Not me." Mgonagall stared hard at the muggle woman in front of her.

"Sigh…yes. I suppose that is the most important question." She said, resigned and finally starting to relax a bit. "What happened to prevent Harry from responding? The letter itself has a charm on it that lets the headmaster know that it has been safely received by the intended recipient. It is…concerning that this letter hasn't found Harry's hands." She fought to keep from sounding accusing and judgemental. It was best not to cause unnecessary conflict after all. She watched them as they pondered how best to answer the question. A silent conversation passed between the two until finally it was Petunia who spoke.

"You send letters by Owl if I remember correctly, yes?" Minerva nodded slowly. Petunia slouched a bit. "I thought so. Well the first thing I can assure you of is that Harry is fine. He's been a loved member of the family since he was four years old. Now I won't lie to you and say we've always been as…tolerant as we are now, of the boy's…unique ancestry. And quite honestly, my views on your kind haven't really changed much and I really want nothing to do with any of you... But we knew this day was coming and we've accepted it."

She took a breath then straightened herself out. "And considering that and what else we no doubt will have to explain to you, you can also assume that the owl that came, carrying your invitation letter was likely killed before it could get to him. Little Dudley's traps are no joke and an owl is a fragile thing when snared in a trap designed to capture, humiliate or mildly assault a human boy with abnormal powers."

"what!?"

"And assuming the owl survived past those," continued Petunia, having not even tried to pause while the witch was shrieking in indignation. "Harry himself is likely to have had that bird killed."

"Rubbish!"

"Believe what you will," said Vernon. "You don't live here with him or Dudley. You don't know what has been going on here."

"What my dear husband means to say," interrupted Petunia, trying to placate the irate witch. "Is that both my son and my nephew have a rather…volatile coexistence. Now that's not to say that they are constantly fighting or that either is mistreated by the other any more than normal- She glared at Vernon's snort. They do however, compete over everything. They are single minded in upstaging one another, to the point that there's nothing they won't pursue just to prove they are better at something than the other. And if one learns how to do something that the other cannot, then the other will simply learn a skill similar but very opposite of the other and use that against its rival."

"You are not making any sense!" Minerva had her wand out at this time. She was a hair's breadth way from simply casting a wide area detection charm, locating Harry and taking him herself, leaving these…freaks to stew.

"Harry can talk to snakes."

Vernon's blunt statement shattered all built up energy in an instant. Minerva gasped and pierced the man with her intense gaze. "W-what?"

Petunia sighed. "Harry can talk to snakes," she repeated. "And because he can talk to snakes, little Dudders got it in his head that he too needed a similar skill. He began to actively try and tame wild birds to counteract Harry's ability, made us hire a falcon trainer to teach him how to do so and everything and next thing we knew, Dudley had a whole stable full of birds of prey trained to attack on command, and trained to attack Harry's snakes. So naturally Harry has a rather intense…aversion to birds. If this owl showed up suddenly, heading right to Harry while he was out, it is likely he attacked and killed it without a second thought and fed the meat to his snakes. I couldn't tell you. All I know is that this letter was left in the yard."

Minerva had heard some tales in her lifetime. But what she'd just been told topped them all. Did they really think that poppycock story was gonna fly? What kind of idiot did these two believe her to be?

"You don't believe us," said Vernon, cutting off her thoughts as if he could read her mind. His eyes held annoyance in them as he sighed. "Harry! Dudley! Come here! I don't care what you two are in the middle of, come to the dining room now!"

Vernon's sudden yell startled Minerva with its volume. She narrowed her eyes at the Dursleys, another question on the tip of her tongue when the man held up a hand. "Wait for it," he said.

Then it came. There was a sudden snap and hiss in the air before the entire back half of the floor suddenly collapsed in on itself as if part of that area had been atop a sinkhole, revealing a ramp headed down into utter darkness. And from that room below came a scowling chubby faced boy with dirty blonde hair and dark brown eyes. Mcgonagall would have overlooked the boy immediately…if it wasn't for a few very noticeable attributes the boy carried. First of all, his eyes alone held a very strong sense of purpose. A resolute grasp of what he wanted to do with his life, fueled along by the burning desire to see that goal accomplished by any means necessary. It was…frightening to see such emotion in the eyes of an eleven year-old boy. And then she took in his appearance.

Minerva had seen her fair share of warfare. She'd been alive on this earth for quite a bit longer than one would have thought and she'd been around the world a time or two.

She knew what a child soldier was.

And watching Dudley come up out of that room and approach the three of them, made a startled gasp emerge from her mouth as she made the very eerie comparison between a child soldier and the boy looking up at her with confused eyes. Everything about this boy screamed fighter. The way he stood was that of an alert beast ready to react within a moment's notice. He was dressed in a big baggy coat that hid his frame but she could tell this boy was going to be of a larger variety as well, like his father, and what could be seen of his legs was similarly covered by baggy pants and child sized steel toe boots. And upon his forehead were a pair of goggles. He cast an annoyed look at his parents.

"You…"

His words were cut off abruptly as the magic permeating the air suddenly shifted. Minerva's senses went haywire as the air seemed to fluctuate and hum before there was a sudden poof and another boy was suddenly in front of her.

"Uh…You called, Uncle Vernon?"

The Harry potter that she'd imagined up and the Harry potter that appeared in front of her weren't all that dissimilar looking. Both had wild black hair, both had piecing green eyes and both had the scar.

However this harry potter utterly destroyed the image she had built up in her head of the last ten years. Confident, intelligent and strong, this Harry was not what she'd imagined at all.

And his eyes…They were just as strong as the other boy's, glinting like emeralds, full of power and ambition.

Mcgonagal could only gape at boy as he finally noticed her and raised an eyebrow at her attire. "And who are you Miss?" he asked. There was a sigh from Petunia, drawing Harry's attention.

"She's here to talk to you." She began. "She's…." And there was a noticeable hesitation in her tone but she pressed on. "She's like you."

The silence that followed was a lot more oppressive than it should have been. Harry and his cousin both suddenly pierced her with their stares. They were inquisitive, a million questions already swimming in their gazes.

Then the moment was over and Harry's face transformed into a look of confusion. "You said she's like me?"

Before Petunia could answer, Mcgonagal took the liberty to explain instead.

"Mister Potter," she began, ignoring petunia's outraged glare. "My name is Minerva Mcgonagal. It is as your aunt has said. I am like you. I am a witch. And I have come to personally escort you to get your school supplies. If you woul-

"eh!? Wait, wait back up! What was that you said about being a witch?!"

"Huh? But you just aparated! How do you not…?" She turned an accusatory glare upon the dursleys.

Vernon shrugged. "Hey we knew what the boy was. It does not mean we had to tell him."

Mcgonagal was scandalized, and went to show the Dursleys just what she thought of this whole mess. "W-What kind of irresponsible-!"

Only to be interrupted by the muggle boy.

"I knew it!" he yelled almost at the top of his lungs, pure joy radiating off of him as he turned a suddenly smug look upon his cousin. "I knew you weren't all that special! Hah!"

Harry was suddenly in his cousin's face, magic swirling around him and a very disturbingly haughty, superior look formed on his face, causing Mcgonagal to barely with hold a gasp of horror. She recognized that look. But to see it on the face of the boy-who-lived?!

"Special or not, dear Duddy-kins," began Harry, his voice just oozing superiority. "I'm still leagues above you in the evolutionary ladder. In fact, I would say that the fact that more people like me exist is absolute proof of this."

It was like a stab to the heart, hearing Harry bloody Potter spouting of the same sort of nonsense a pureblood supremacist would spit out. She turned a scandalized look to the Dursleys. How the bloody hell did this happen?!

But then something else happened to shock her motionless. Dudley, instead of being cowed by Harry's display of magic, actually stepped closer to his cousin, his face showing an equal amount of the self-assured superiority.

"Your "witchcraft" is a crutch, a tool you evolved to assist you because your kind was too weak to survive on its own without it. Evolution my butt, you're nothing but prey with a fancy self-defense system specifically designed to keep my kind at bay, lest we sweep you away." He reached into his pockets and pulled out a handful of marble looking spheres holding them in between his fingers with a grin. "I mean, the fact that your kind is in hiding is proof of THAT fact."

Harry's smug look grew more intense as he pressed his forehead into his cousins belligerently, his eyes actually beginning to glow. But by this point, Mcgonagal was already glaring towards the Dursleys who had looks upon their faces that she couldn't quite place. She couldn't form the words to voice her absolute shock, horror and the numerous other emotions the last several minutes had envoked.

Petunia seemed to sense this and gave a deep sigh. "So there you have it," she said, while gesturing to the bickering boys. "THIS is what we've dealt with for the last few years. This is the sum of the relationship between dudderkins and Harry."

"A constant argument as to which is better," muttered Vernon.

Mcgonangal was forced to look at the boys again as Harry's magic pulsated and the boy abruptly apparated to the end of the room to the doorway linking the kitchen and the living room, barely avoiding Dudley's thrown marbles, which exploded into a bright yellow cloud of gas. She had no time to react as Vernon and Petunia exploded into motion, moving even faster and more graceful than they had in the yard, Vernon snatching the befuddled witch by the waist as he dodged the gas cloud and weaved under and over trip wires, Petunia close behind. It all happened in a blur to her. The environment seemed to fade away into indistinguishable shapes and colors for a second as she was pulled along, before, with a blink, she realized she was in the dining room.

Before she could gather her wits about her, Petunia spoke. "A never ending bid to outdo one another," she said with an indulgent sigh. "A constant contest to see which is better…"

"Magic," said Vernon with just a barest hint of hostility as he pierced Mcgonagal with his eyes.

"Or science," finished Petunia.

The slightly frustrated yet energetic cries of conflict echoed through the house as Harry and Dudley…fought. Mcgonagal could feel the magic responding to Harry's will, directed in ways that no child had ever been able to before. How…how was she supposed to deal…with this?

Petunia gave a sardonic grin. "I hope you've brought something interesting to the table," she began. "Because if Harry doesn't think he can obtain anything that will help him against Dudley, you won't be able to convince him to go with you."

Because all he cares about is proving to his cousin, the superiority of magicals over Muggles. Yes. Minerva understood the message loud and clear. She just wasn't so sure she wanted to be the one to have to tell people that the boy who lived had such a mindset.

"Yes…" she began wearily. "I hope so too."

AN: And here ya go! Tell me what ya thought!