Harry Potter, nine-year-old extraordinaire, had never been so excited to be woken up.

Sure, the cupboard under the stairs was dark and thundered horribly whenever anyone walked down the stairs, but this time he had something he wanted to see outside of the cupboard.

Dudley Dursley.

Ever since Harry had found a baby stinging nettle in the cat-grass he was forced to garden, his entire life had changed overnight. He had taken revenge on Dudley. He had gotten the last laugh.

And he couldn't wait to see the results.

A handful of tiny stinging nettle needles scattered inside of Dudley's sheets, though Harry had had to pick several out of his own skin afterward. Then he had dashed back downstairs and started to hurriedly throw ingredients to create the stew he had already planned. The meat had been all-too-quickly chopped up, sending tiny bits of fat over the counters. The noodles he had found in the back of the pantry were partially broken and he had had to break the rest to make it even. The carrots had been sliced up with the speed of a cheetah.

He had set the table, making three different settings. Then he had taken the smallest bowl the Dursley's had and scooped himself up a bowl of chicken noodle soup, barely making a dent in the bowl that was nearly the size of himself.

Sneaking away to the laundry room to eat his meal in peace and quiet, Harry had waited for Dudley to go to bed and then wake up.

Now the moment was here. He heard the familiar thudding of his Uncle pounding down the stairs, and the shower of dust fell lightly across his face, getting trapped in his hair. He coiled by the door, ready to emerge out. His fingers tapped along his thighs, already changed into his clothes for the school day.

The thudding sounded right outside his door, before stopping. Harry heard the click of the latch only seconds before Uncle Vernon's booming voice echoed throughout his skull.

"Get up, boy!"

Harry sprang out of the cupboard, nearly smacking his head on the wooden bar. But he righted himself and was ready to go, small school bag swung over his shoulders. He glanced both directions, but Dudley hadn't come down yet. Harry pouted slightly before turning to the right, heading towards the kitchen.

He walked inside, seeing Uncle Vernon already sitting at the table with three pieces of toast in front of him and the paper spread in front of his face. There wasn't even a grunt as Harry walked by, which was fine with him.

Harry headed to the fridge, carefully setting his bag by his feet. He pried open the doors, the chill from the handles seeping into his skin. He scanned the contents quickly, finding what he needed fast.

The remnants of the chicken noodle soup were packed in a small package by the floor, having been put there himself. The Dursley's always ate so much, but they wouldn't accept leftovers when Harry made them a new dinner every night. So any leftovers were shoved onto him for breakfast or lunch.

Harry was perfectly fine with this. He simply adored soup, leftover or not. He carefully pulled the package out from the fridge, testing its weight in one hand. Just enough for his breakfast. He pulled off the plastic lid, setting that on the counter. He put the soup container in the microwave, setting the timer.

It was then that he heard a distant shriek from Aunt Petunia and slow, heavy thuds of someone coming down the stairs.

It was also then that Harry realized if he was caught having needled Dudley, his head would hang.

Harry hurriedly tapped his foot, spoon already clenched in his hand. The school bag was on his shoulders and he had located his shoes, but it seemed the soup was taking extra long to cook. Uncle Vernon grunted once and Harry quickly stopped tapping his foot.

A pleasant 'ding!' later and Harry was practically ripping open the microwave to get at his soup, darting off with it to the front door. He shoved his feet in his shoes, knowing he'd tie them later. He shoveled spoonfuls of soup in his mouth, careful not to spill.

It burned a path down his throat but now he watched Uncle Vernon look up from his paper as Aunt Petunia cried out again, and Dudley's footsteps grew ever nearer. He sped back to the kitchen, dumping the empty bowl of soup into the sink. Uncle Vernon was standing up, paper clenched in one hand.

Harry's hand was inches from the door when the demon that was Aunt Petunia erupted from behind him.

"WHO'S TOUCHED MY DIDDYKINS?"

Harry swallowed the urge to laugh and wrenched open the door, speeding outside. He closed it as quietly as he could and was out on the front porch, peeking around the front door to glance at the window.

Uncle Vernon was on his feet, face a burnt red and mouth open, probably bellowing. His hands shook with a mighty rage and his paper was ripped up by his feet. Aunt Petunia was crouched in front of Dudley, eyes flicking over every part of him to see where he was injured. Her hand flew to her lips. But Dudley…

He was wailing, great tears splashing down his face and onto his pajamas. His hands were clenched in fists and his face was screwed shut.

But the priceless thing was the giant rash spreading from his neck to his cheek. It was massive and had several large red bumps, where the needles probably were.

Harry made it a few steps away from the house before almost falling over in a fit of laughter. His stomach clenched and shook, his arms limp and useless. He knew that if he saw himself his face would be as red as Uncle Vernon's.

He stayed that way for a few minutes, collapsed on the pavement in endless peals of laughter. He didn't care about whether the neighbors saw him, whether someone called the police or even if he was abducted right then and there.

Nothing was as satisfying or hilarious as what Harry had seen right there.

But soon the tears of mirth stopped falling and he was able to pick himself off of the floor. His chest still ached and his legs were noticeably weaker than before, but he knew he had to get to school soon.

Harry turned to one side and saw his school bag had fallen off, and one of his books were poking out. Stifling a grunt he picked it up, swinging it over his shoulders and wincing when the heavy books hit his back.

The teachers at his school were evil, he swore.

Sighing once more and letting a stray giggle out, Harry began the walk to his school.

The Urtica Dioica, also known as the common nettle or stinging nettle, is a poisonous plant native to Europe, Asia, Africa, and Northern American. This little plant brings a sting, so make sure to avoid it! The plant has broad, pattern leaves that…

Harry sighed and shut the book, wiping at his eyes. That was the first of the books the librarian had been able to pull out for him, yet the end of lunch was only twenty-two minutes away.

He idly wondered if time was speeding up particularly for him. If so, he disliked the gesture.

Harry tapped his fingers along the spine of the book, labeled Native Europe Plants. The other two books were called All About Weeds and Poisonous Plants Found Right in Your Backyard!

At least one of them had something to do with poison, so he flipped it open. The first was a table of contents, which he skimmed quickly. There was an entire chapter devoted to Nettles. His excitement growing, he flipped past dozens of chapters until he arrived at page 238.

There are many different names associated with Urtica Dioica, with the most common being the Stinging Nettle. Others include the Burning Nettle, Nettle, or Nettle leaf.

The Nettle is a plant that has been used by cultures for generations. It has been eaten as a scavenging plant, applied medicinally to the skin, and drunk as herb tea. It has even been woven into fabric as a fiber.

But the hairs along its spine will inject several neurotransmitters to those who touch it, and the hairs will harden and become indented into the flesh of the toucher.

It lives best in partially shady areas with moist fertile soil, though it can grow well in almost all zones.

Harry shut the book, rocking it back and forth in his hand. The nettles grew well in partially shady areas, such as an area with many tall trees overhead casting shadows. A plan took seed in his mind and began to sprout.

Nettles, not being extremely poisonous, do not have many side effects when stung. The hair will inject as much poison that it has inside of it but will remain in the skin until removed. It is widely speculated that an overdose on nettles could result in upset stomachs and potentially diarrhea.

Diarrhea… Harry winced for the mess when he got home. Maybe he shouldn't have given Dudley such a large dose.

He thought of his own little stinging nettle plant - when did he start to think of it as his? - and of the forest only ten minutes behind his house. There must be a small clearing in there somewhere, a place that a little nettle plant could grow and flourish.

He stood up, green eyes flashing to the clock above the door. He had around five minutes to get to class and put the books back. He slid the first two, Native Europe Plants and All About Weeds, back into their spots along the shelves. But he kept the last book and walked up to the librarian, who had been checking out two other students. Another kid looked back at him before turning back to the man.

"Mr. Kegg?" Harry said, placing the book upon the counter. The man looked down at him, bushy brown hair poking up in every which way. "I'd like to borrow this book, please."

The man looked over the cover, starting slightly when he read it. His eyes darted over to Harry, then back at the book. "School project?" He asked, taking the book from its place on the counter.

Harry paused for a second, thinking about it. He shook his head, idly wondering if he would ever get a class on poisonous plants. He wanted one.

"Okay, then." Mr. Kegg yawned slightly. "You can only have one non-school book out at a time, and it must be returned before two weeks. You know the drill." He stamped the book on the inside cover, sliding it back across the counter to the boy.

"Okay, sir!" Harry chirped, snatching up the book and taking off to the door. He had less than a minute to get to class.

But if only Harry had read the All About Weeds, he would have found a very important fact written on the first page about nettles.

Always use gloves when handling these plants!

"OW!"

Another cry echoed around Privet Drive, specifically in front of number four.

Harry knelt in front of the garden, his hands buried in a small bush of cat-grass. But every few seconds he would flinch back, pulling his hands out. He would pull another needle from his skin and then plunge in again. This pattern repeated itself many, many times. But Harry Potter was the most determined nine-year-old any had ever seen and he was getting this plant out of the garden!

He carefully spread the blue-green stems, baring the plant to the world. Its dangerous stem glimmered up at him, seeming to taunt him. Harry stuck his tongue out at it.

He had been planning to grab it by the roots and pull it out like he did with all of the pricker plants he had to weed. But this nettle's stem seemed to extend into the ground, and he couldn't dig lest he break cat-grass roots. That could not happen. He tried again, reaching for a relatively bare patch of stem. A second later, he was pulling back his hand and pulling another needle from it.

"Boy!" He heard a shout and he looked up to the front porch. There, in all of her long necked glory, stood Aunt Petunia, hands on her hips. She had stayed in Dudley's room all day and hadn't come out, and Harry had thought he could get away with it. He let the cat-grass slid back over the nettle, standing up.

"What are you doing?" She sniffed, delicately walking over to him. She stopped directly over him, noticing him over a patch of cat-grass. "Are you harming my plants?" Her brow began lowering and her hands twitched.

"No, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied dutifully. He knelt down again, shoving his hands into the stems. He pushed them apart, baring the nettle out to her. He suddenly wondered if Aunt Petunia could recognize that Dudley had been stung by a nettle. His back prickled slightly.

"Oh!" She sniffed. "Why haven't you gotten rid of it yet?"

Harry couldn't stop the slight blush spreading over his cheeks. "I can't grab it," he explained, "it keeps stinging my hands." He held out his hands, which were a bright red. There were several small bumps, but he had already pulled out the needles.

"Well, you idiot boy. You are allowed to go to the shed in the back and grab a pair of gloves."

Harry almost shot up, surprised. How could he have been so stupid as to not ask for gloves? Aunt Petunia would have let him if he was getting rid of a stinging nettle!

"But if I find you using the new ones I bought, I will let Vernon deal with you." She promised, turning on her heel and stalking back to the house. He waited until she had shut the front door before he shot to his feet, running around the side of the house. There was a small shed there that Uncle Vernon kept his lawn mower in.

He pulled open the door, walking inside. A wave of dust hit him like a wave, and he quickly coughed and waved hands in front of his face to clear it. He peered inside, looking around.

There were two large shelves on either wall, opposite of each other. They were neatly organized with trowels, handheld rakes, and several little bags of vitamin pellets. The mower was parked in the very back, covered under a tan tarp to prevent dust from covering it. He walked inside, scanning along the shelves. Nothing looked like it had been touched in a very, very long time.

He found a pair of gloves, ones that were covered in a thick layer of dust. He picked them and shook them violently, revealing their colors. They were a dark green with brown pads on the palm and fingers and looked kind of pretty. Harry shook them again, before slipping his hands in them. They fit well enough, but when he shook his hands they slid around a bit. But when his hands grew bigger they'd fit perfectly.

He turned around and walked out of the shed, carefully shutting the door behind him. He didn't want to risk Aunt Petunia's ire. He noticed there wasn't a latch on the door.

Harry trotted back around the side of the house to the garden, easily picking out the bush of cat-grass that held the nettle inside. The stems were all messed up; pointing in directions they weren't supposed to. He would have to fix that before Aunt Petunia saw.

He knelt again, spotting the dark green leaves. He reached forward, carefully. His hand closed around the stem.

There were no tiny needles stabbing into him.

He whooped with delight, fully grabbing onto the stem. He carefully avoided pulling on any of the leaves, before yanking it out the ground. Its roots gave way with a slight shower of dirt. He held it up, looking at its rather pitiful size now that it wasn't trying to stab him.

He stood up, still tightly holding onto the plant. He started to walk towards the house, slipping around the edge and onto the sidewalk that ran next to the house. Harry started to run, dirt falling from the roots with every step he took.

The path seemed longer now that he was worried about the nettle, but he paid it no mind, running hard. The sun, despite being a quarter of the way to the horizon, beat down harshly on his face. But he could see the rusty swing set of the park and he knew he was close. He darted around the wood chips and headed towards the woods.

He had been in here times before. The trees were spaced far apart, large enough to drive Uncle Vernon's car through. He walked on, staring up at the sky. He needed to find a place with partial sun.

After only a few minutes of walking, he found it.

A small clearing that had two small trees on either side. They weren't tall enough to block the sun so beams of light filtered through and smacked against the ground, lighting up the seabed of green grass and clover. Harry grinned.

He knelt down, closing a spot of sunlight right in the middle. He switched hands so that his left was holding the nettle and started to dig with his right. His hand dipped easily into the dirt, and he could feel the slight dampness of water in it. This was perfect.

Once the hole was big enough he plopped the nettle right inside of it, its roots buried. He dumped handfuls of dirt over it until it was flat ground with a thin green plant poking out.

He settled back on his heels, a smile on his lips. He had saved a stinging nettle plant from Aunt Petunia and gotten himself something to take care of. He watched as a sunbeam came down and hit it.

Something brown flashed in the corner of his vision. He swiveled his head to the right and caught a sight of something coming over the roots of a small tree.

It was a snake. It had light brown scales with a black zigzag down its back, looking like it water as it slid over and under branches and grass. Harry watched it curiously. Aunt Petunia said he should always kill snakes if he saw them, but he was already disobeying her by keeping the nettle, so he didn't think he should follow her rules now.

As the snake grew nearer, Harry frowned. Someone was talking.

"Hello?" He asked, not noticing his voice slipping into hissing undertones.

Sweet! Another chapter! Hope you guys enjoy this; I enjoyed writing it. But seriously, my hand is cramping. Two long chapters in two short days. You guys are spoiled xD

Anyway! So now Harry's got himself a stinging nettle and a meeting with a snake. This snake, for those who ask, will not be magical and tell Harry everything about the wizarding world. I do respect stories like that, but it seems a bit contrived and too easy. I'm going to make Harry work for his knowledge of magic!Now, I know that most stories would shoot directly to Harry going onto the train to Hogwarts with a little backstory for his new personality, but I've decided to do it in a bit more detail. So yeah, by my planning, there will be fourteen chapters until Harry goes to Diagon Alley.

But Harry's also got a stinging nettle in his own little clearing. Yes, this is on public property. Yes, someone could find the clearing. Yes, that could be a plot point xD

Now, I know that most stories would shoot directly to Harry going onto the train to Hogwarts with a little backstory for his new personality, but I've decided to do it in a bit more detail. So yeah, by my planning, there will be fourteen chapters until Harry goes to Diagon Alley.

But hey, if you really want me to speed up, just tell me!

Please read and review!

Frost OUT!

Hey Trickster here. Once again, this story is not 'mine' until at least chapter twenty two, which will be my writing. and I do not own Harry Potter.