One with Magic

Harry Potter was in hell from the moment he was left on the Dursley's steps. With unusual power, he murders his the Dursleys at age eight and is thrown in a juvenile delinquency institute. With the Malfoys, a muggle and a magical at his side, will he find his place among wizards? No pairings for Harry though there is a bit Harry/Narcissa Malfoy

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, sadly.

It All Begins

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Mrs. Number Three Privet Drive had never seen such a pleasant, quiet, and warm day on Privet Drive in all of her years of living there.

Even the birds wasted no time basking in the rare and sunny, yet not too hot or humid, day. Without a cloud in sight, they soared in circles in the gorgeously blue sky and played 'tag' in the bushes.

The houses lay quiet and still as most of the children were away; some enjoying their day at the park, some having gone to the beach, and some having outings elsewhere with their parents. Therefore, it was rather serene. Wonderfully calm, almost peaceful. It's a perfect day for a tea part-.

"BOY! YOU- HERE-NOW!" The bellow rattled the windows of Number Four Privet Drive and sent birds flying in fright.

Mrs. Number Three, who had accidentally clipped a beautiful flower that she had been admiring, angrily picked up her fallen hedge-clippers and moved closer to the front of her house. She could see the large Vernon Dursley gesticulating dramatically and wildly through his large, sitting room window.

That man!

This was certainly not the first time that she had heard Vernon Dursley yell at the boy he claimed to be 'a miscreant.' She, like many of the others on Privet Drive, had previously, mistakenly, assumed that he had been disciplining the boy because the child had been continually misbehaving.

Really, who would scream "BOY" all of the time at their nephew unless the child was such a menace that he did not even deserve a name!

With a casual flick of her hand, as if to get dirt off, she gestured to Mrs. I Can Do No Wrong Even Though I'm Cheating On My Husband Number Five Privet Drive. The secret signal was returned with a slight nod and then sent to the other women working in their gardens.

It was something that she and Number Five had worked out - well, Number Three had worked it all out and Number Five tagged along because she wanted to do everything she could to destroy Petunia Dursley's reputation.

Their rivalry was probably due to some grammar-school vendetta or with some other childish and insignificant origin. Mrs. Number Three truly did not care about either woman. It was that dear, sweet boy who had been troubling her soul over the past few years.

She had watched him often through her front window with her binoculars. In various hours of the day, she had observed him cleaning the house, gardening, and manicuring the lawn. She was pretty sure that the boy was being forced to cook for his family as well. While Dursley passed it off as chores to "keep the little delinquent busy," Number Three was not stupid. She had recognized child abuse for what it was.

The boy was little more than seven at the time anyhow; he couldn't have been that much of a criminal.

She had been simply overjoyed when she, along with Numbers Five, Six, Two and Eight, the esteemed Ladies of Privet Drive, wandered onto the topic at brunch on a rather humid day two summers back.

"Are you sure?" Number Two demanded.

"Of course she is, Dorothy! Have you forgotten Petunia's pathetic attempt at a Yule party last year?"

There was a pause as each one of the ladies slipped into a state of reflection, and they set down their teacups in unison.

Number Two squeaked in shock. "I remember now! He served the food and drink there! He looked so hungry and small, and she-."

"She kept smacking him." Number Six remembered gravely. "I don't remember him 'getting cheeky'."

"The boy had barely said a word the whole time!" Number Five growled. "He was five years-old, I believe she said. Funny how that never struck me as odd."

Number Three had smiled inwardly at her subtle victory. "Not to mention the clothes he wore."

"You mean forced to wear." Number Eight said regally. Number Two nodded.

"Those horrible overalls. I swear I saw her son wearing those same dreadful pieces of clothe- why, it couldn't be but a few weeks ago!" Number Two said in her pathetic, squeaky way.

"They are so outrageously large on him." Young Number Eight spoke around the food in her mouth. "But then again, he was never large to begin with. Not like Dursley's son. I wonder if Petunia lets her son eat the poor boy's foo-." Bits of the biscuit she had been chewing on found its way onto her lap.

"He is unhealthily skinny; I wouldn't be surprised if you're right." Number Three said tersely, shaking her gray head. It had been quite clear to the other Ladies that she had been shaking her head at Number Eight's barbaric table manners and not at the statement she had just made.

Number Five leaned forward with her teacup in her hand, the universal gossiping signal that a major secret was soon to be spilled. The other Ladies followed suit by leaning in too, although they were very much alone.

"I invited the boy in for some lemonade last Saturday. I had accidentally made too much, thinking that my husband would come home early." When she lowered her head to set down her teacup to refill it, the other Ladies gave each other knowing looks over her bent head and hid their knowing smirks behind their teacups.

They all took that to mean that she had made some lemonade for her "Gardener" and that her Eduardo had not been able to miss spending the day with his wife and three children to spare her some adulterous satisfaction.

"Go on!" Number Eight said, her eyes aglow, hungry for gossip. Number Three rolled her eyes in exasperation. Number Two giggled softly behind her hand.

Young Number Eight had moved in a month ago or so. She had been newly married and expecting a bundle of joy at that time. The Ladies of Privet Drive had taken her in under their wing and into their 'private club.' Yet, even after the month of underling training, she had yet to learn the delicate etiquette of gossiping!

Number Five continued with a fresh cup of rosemary tea, "Well, I invited him in. I had seen him working so hard in the garden. The poor boy, he looked absolutely famished and dehydrated. I asked him what he had been doing, just to see what he would say." She paused, for an obvious and unnecessary dramatic effect. "He told me-."

She leaned in closer, moving her chair closer to the others in the shade on the back patio of Number Six's house, "He had been weeding the yard. Well, I told him that I used to have my son do that too. And the look he gave m-."

"Afternoon, ladies!" Petunia Dursley's obnoxiously shrill voice interrupted from the yard over.

"Good Afternoon, Petunia." They all said in unison and with sugary-sweet voices. They raised their flowery teacups in her direction. Her eyebrows had furrowed instantly together. She appeared as if she wanted to ask something, but they had already turned away from her and had gone back to talking.

"Go on, Susan!" Number Two said eagerly to Number Five.

Mrs. Number Five took another sip of tea. "The look he gave me… almost like he thought I was the devil in women's clothing!"

Number Three swiftly kicked Number Six under the table. She had been in the process of opening her mouth and saying something particularly vicious. The kick was quickly returned.

Mrs. Number Five continued, eyeing the two of them with suspicion. "Right, then he held out his hands." She made a face. "They were cut bloody, swollen, and most likely infected! He had been forced to do it without gloves!"

They all reclined back in their chairs with repulsion and outrage.

"God above!"

"My heavens."

"That poor boy!"

"How old is he again?"

They all glanced over into the Dursley's yard, where Petunia was overtly observing them. They all beamed poison-laced smiles at her and lifted their cups to her once more. In the corners of their eyes, they all observed the boy as he carried heavy buckets of water to the front of the house while his cousin whacked him repeatedly on the back with a stick. "Boy, hurry up! Dudley hit him harder!" Vernon encouraged through the kitchen window. Petunia had waved back to them hesitantly, completely unaware of the plan that would revolve around her nephew.

The Ladies had then decided that they would each call on 'Precious Harry,' as they so lovingly named him, to come over to their houses when they could, to keep him away from his abusive family. They did it all under the pretense of having Harry work for them. Without any substantial proof of abuse, they could not get child protection involved. And none of them wanted the reputation-wrecking stigma of "family-breaking" attached to them and their households.

Immediately, the bait had been taken. The Dursleys quickly accepted the proposal for Harry to do jobs for the Ladies when they needed him. Petunia's attempt to use Harry as her invitation into the Ladies of Privet Drive, or to get dirty news on the Ladies as Number Three believed it to be, was fairly obvious. The Ladies even gave Harry small pocket change to keep the rouse up. The money had been continuously taken away by the Dursleys until Harry later confessed to having "saved" some of his money in an undisclosed location.

The Ladies knew instantly that the Dursleys were taking the small monies, but they did not say a word, nor did the boy. It kept the Dursleys under their control and where the Ladies wanted them. So long as they gave Harry a little money, and he gave a little to the Dursleys, the Dursleys were not suspicious.

The pocket change was not a problem, what to do with the boy had been a major question. They had absolutely no intention of giving him hard work. He had enough of that at home. It had taken some nights of discussion and tea drinking before they found a suitable solution.

Each Lady was to issue him completely useless jobs. They even competed to see who could come up with a job with the least amount of work. Recently, Number Three heard that Number Two asked him to move her welcome-mat precisely two centimeters to the left and then told him to help himself to her coveted Sweets-Cupboard a few days ago .

Number Three was positive that the boy was onto them. It's that unnaturally mature gleam of understanding in those emerald eyes of his! It was as if he could read their minds. One day he had even thanked her so profusely that it brought her to tears.

She flipped her hair, as if to get it out of her face. In the garden one door down, Number Five nodded. Number Three had taken him yesterday. It was Number Five's turn today.

Yesterday, Number Three had gone to the store and bought a big bag of cherry and grape candies. She told him to separate the red candies from the purple candies in the kitchen. When he looked at her in suspicion, she quickly told him that she liked the color purple more than red. She prepared a hearty breakfast and lunch while he 'worked'.

They had also taken it upon themselves to stuff the boy with as much food as possible while keeping him away from his family. It had been painfully obvious that he was not getting enough to eat from the Dursleys. That had quickly become another competition amongst the Ladies, who could fatten him up the most.

Number Three was certain that Number Six had been giving him some sort of nutritional supplements over the past year, and Number Three was not going to take it lying down. She made banquets for Harry and had him exercising, but not too much of course.

She and Number Six had been rivals even back when the Ladies of Privet Drive had just been a Wednesday brunch, over thirty years ago. They went from competing over 'Best Garden', 'Best Wedding', 'Best Husband', and 'Best Funeral' for said husbands, down the list to 'Best Weathervane' and 'Best Garden Gnomes.'

Yet, each time Harry leaves her house, he seems stronger and healthier! She must be slipping him something! It's unnatural! It's cheating; plain and simple! Number Three grumbled mentally.

Yesterday, after Harry had finished sorting the candies, Number Three had suddenly remembered that she could not eat the candy. "These old teeth, I almost forgot!" She had complained and told him to take it all home. The boy had almost cried of shock and of joy. Then he shocked her by hugging her tightly around the waist, nearly lifting her square off the ground.

His strength nowadays was amazing.

She smiled to herself. She would bet the very clothes on her back that neither Numbers Six nor Two had received such a hug from Harry.

He also shocked her with the news that tomorrow, therefore today, would be his birthday and that the candy was a great present. Number Three quickly relayed that information on to the other Ladies, and they immediately began making plans for a surprise but secret birthday celebration. The weather is perfect for it.

With unhurried, yet springy steps, Number Five had bounced out of her yard. She's acting as though her soaps are going to run the whole day!

Number Five was the only member who actually gave him work. She actually tried to make him sweat. He seemed to somehow enjoy going to her house and doing the many difficult chores that Number Five gave him. Number Three had once seen the nine year-old hanging upside down from Number Five's roof cleaning the high windows! And of course was Number Five watching him from the garden below with a martini in one hand, a gossip magazine in the other, and that queer grin on her face, the one she always carried when Harry was around.

It could almost be described as perverted, the interest Number Five had in Harry. Number Three ranked it somewhere between motherly love of a son and the lust for a future beau.

Number Three remembered the time she had invited herself over to Number Five's while Harry was there. She wanted to return the backing dish she had borrowed. In the sitting room, she was surprised to find Number Five lying on a small couch, draped in only a towel around her lower regions and having the boy rub her back. She had barely muffled the gasp that nearly escaped her lips behind her hands and slipped back out the door. She truly hoped it had never gone further between the two.

Number Five was also the first Lady to volunteer to host the birthday party today in her backyard. She was to 'put Harry to work'. At about three in the afternoon, and one by one, the other ladies would arrive, and they would stay until after dinnertime. Number Five had already called Petunia to request Harry a bit longer as she had "more work for the boy."

Number Three turned and wiped her lightly silvered brow with her left hand. Numbers Two, Six, and Eight, who all lived on the opposite side of the street, nodded at the signal and halted with their yard work.

She turned back to the Dursley's residence. They usually observed how the Dursleys reacted to each one of them as they picked Harry up. A lingering glance from Petunia did not always mean that the person's skirt is too skimpy, as it usually was the case with Number Five, such a look could also mean that the Lady had taken Harry too often or even picked him up too often. The Ladies had to be vigilant of those and similar, subtle signs. The tiniest of slip-ups could ruin their whole act, and their time with the poor little Harry.

She subconsciously compared her flowerbeds with Petunia Dursley's.

The only reason why they are immaculate is because Harry takes excellent care of them!

Then she heard it. It was the most terrible sound that she had ever heard, and hoped to never hear again. It was a sound that had never been heard in their neighborhood.

Number Five paused. The Ladies all looked at one another in shock. In such an esteemed neighborhood such a sound should never be heard, but it was, and they knew what it was. It was the scream of a child being viciously harmed.

And then it stopped. It was as if someone had turned a switch off. With agility she had not managed in years, Number Three hopped over her small bushes and, with her hedge-clippers still in her hand, ran clear out of her garden through the front of her house and then across the street to the Dursleys' front yard.

Number Five had stopped directly in front of the Dursley's living room window, frozen, pale, and shaking. Does she have no tact whatsoever? There are bushes to hide in!

The thought disappeared as quickly as it came. Number Three rushed forward automatically, the child's screams had returned. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

What she saw through the large window stopped her too. The scene was almost too unbearable for her to see, but she had to. It was her duty to see all and report most of what she had seen. The great brute Vernon was roughly holding down their 'Precious Harry'. The poor boy was thrashing around in pain, with every SMACK that landed on his tender flesh from his uncle's hands.

"YOU WERE STEALING FROM DUDLEY!" SMACK.

The child looked frightened to death. "I wasn-." SMACK. SLAP.

Vernon angrily shook a bag of red and purple treats in front of him. "WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS!" He simultaneously pulled off his belt.

Harry's eyes in horror went wide when he saw the belt. That look would be forever engraved in their minds. It was a look of absolute terror. "I got them from Mrs. Nap-." Number Three's blood chilled in her veins as her name was almost mentioned. Number Six shifted beside her. She prayed that Number Six had not heard the slip as well.

Vernon was completely purple with rage. He shook violently. The belt went flying expertly over any skin that possibly could be reached. I wonder how many times that boy has seen that belt.

"NO ONE 'BELT' WOULD GIVE YOU 'BELT' CANDY 'BELT' YOU DISGUSTING, 'BELT' NO GOOD, 'BELT' LYING, 'BELT', FREAK!"

He finished by viciously attacking the boy with his bare fists: choking and spitting on him. Harry lay almost motionless on the couch, most of his bruises bleeding. He did not even moan.

Number Five was pale with fright and indignation. She turned to the women gathered behind her, shaking as though she had seen a vision of herself being beaten. The look in her eyes portrayed the message that she could not speak, as the scene had rendered her speechless.

Call the police!

Each woman turned and ran to her respectable house, and there were more women in the front of the house than the Ladies. The scene had attracted the whole neighborhood. Everyone was mortified.

Number Three even saw a few women from Magnolia Lane watching the scene. The bloody vultures, always swooping around trying to get gossip material from Privet Drive!

She was once again defying her age, this time by how fast she was running back across the street to her house.

Out of the corner of her eye, Number Three saw Petunia Dursley in her window. Dursley's eyes widened in shock as the women dispersed from her yard. She quickly shut the curtains.

Oh no you don't, Petunia, we've got you! And for George's sake, buy curtains that match the theme of the front of your house! Those purple monsters are embarrassing the entire neighborhood!

She arrived in her kitchen as soon as she could get her dirty shoes off her feet; the floor was a hassle to clean otherwise. She got on the phone immediately. She called the police and told them everything she had seen, adding her own feelings and the reactions of the other Ladies whenever she could.

"…I believe half of the women on the block went into shock! Th-"

"Ma'am, we've a-."

Suddenly there were several loud bangs from across the street.

"Please hurry, I hear loud noises! I think they are doing more harm to the poor boy!"

The police arrived at the house mere minutes after the call, sirens blaring and colors flashing. Number Three was standing in front of her house as they arrived. Five cars of them!

Honestly now! Are all of these cars needed! Some poor woman could be getting mugged somewhere in a dark alley, and there won't be a bobby in sight!

From the speed of their arrival, she guessed that one of the quicker ladies had called them before she had. The very thought made her blood boil.

She and the rest of the women reassembled in the street in front of the house. The Ladies of Privet Drive stood at their rightful place in the front, where they could observe everything.

After a few moments of standing there, they all knew something was wrong. It was absolutely, dead quiet in the house. There was no screaming Harry, shrieking Petunia and no yelling Vernon.

One brave bobby suddenly walked up the pavement, up the stairs and, finding the door unlocked like most of the houses on the street were, opened the door silently and rushed inside.

A moment or two went by while he was inside the house. Suddenly he came running out. The women, who all were standing behind a line of obstacle police, were startled as the man came out panting and wheezing.

He was completely green in the face. "It's a slaughterhouse in there!" Number Three was confused. As she looked at the other Ladies, they seemed confused as well. The Ladies of Privet Drive had just finished telling the other women of their philanthropy and of their 'Precious' Harry's previous abuse.

After he caught his breath, the stricken bobby finished. "Everyone- the whole famil-." He suddenly vomited on the lawn in front of the house. The Ladies turned their noses up in disgust.

Honesty! Did he have to do that in front of us! What respectable man would do such a thing before a woman, not to mention a whole street of them!

Three other officers looked at one another.

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Two, the shortest Lady, shot forward while the police were distracted with their sick comrade. When she got into the house, the metallic scent of blood assaulted her nose with the strength of lightening.

Her bad eyes prevented her from seeing the room without proper lighting. She hurriedly opened the curtains and turned around...

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When the other Ladies heard her piercing scream, they broke through the feeble police blockade and made their way forward. While standing around the front window, they all saw what could only be described later as the gut-wrenching preview to a horror massacre movie.

It was red. Everything had a red coating. Blood covered most of the furniture and seemed to be part of the very decor of the room. It trickled down from the walls and pooled on the floor. There was even a bit on the ceiling, dripping down to the floor.

Even on those dreadful curtains!

The first body that they spotted and pointed out to one another with mouths behind hands was Petunia's. She lay strewn in front of the fireplace. One Lady pointed out that her head lay dismembered from her body, next to the couch. She had obviously been stabbed multiple times, but it was hard to say what killed her, the beheading or the impalement.

Dudley Dursley's large body was spotted next. He had been thrown head first into the television set. He had obviously died of disembowelment as his insides were lying on the floor in a puddle of dark blood beneath him. In his hand was the bag of red and blue sweets; Number Three looked quickly away.

The only person that was not spotted immediately was Vernon Dursley. It was later reported that his body had been all over the room. He had been brutally shot in the stomach and hacked away into pieces.

It was also later discovered that Harry Potter, covered from head to foot in blood and other repulsive things, had been sitting behind the couch, bruised, with a handgun and a kitchen knife covered in blood in his hands. The gun was unregistered and the knife did not belong to the set Petunia kept in the kitchen. Where the little boy found the weapons remained a mystery.

The first murder in the neighborhood was a brutal one by all means.

The paramedics had been called in once they found a person alive, or at least fully intact. They rolled him out on a stretcher. He was still coated in bruises and welts from the earlier episode. Number Six said to herself what most of the women were wondering, "How did he do all of this in less than six minutes and after he was nearly beaten to death? And on his very birthday as well!"

"I wonder who will buy the house now that they're gone," Number Three wondered aloud as they drifted back to her porch after they had once again recounted everything that they had seen to every other person on the block, with commentary. The retelling of the tale had taken up most of the afternoon.

"I wonder if they will be able to sell the house," Number Five said, preparing the tea.

"I wonder who gave the boy the candies that started this mess!" Number Six said pointedly at the suddenly silent Mrs. Number Three.

No one had noticed the old, long and silver bearded man wearing a pointy hat, midnight blue robes and twinkling stars on them observing the scene with sad tears in his eyes.

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