The three fillies stared at Harry with wide eyes. They had never heard of anypony whose relatives treated her so bad. Scootaloo’s parents, while not the most engaged of parents, still managed to give her her own bedroom in her aunts’ home, made sure she had the things she needed for school, and that she ate properly. What do you say to somepony when you discover they’ve been heavily abused?
Harry just stared at the ceiling. He would see if anything different came of this new situation. He didn’t have much hope for that. Now that they knew more about him, that he was a freak, he knew the three fillies would soon abandon him as all the other kids his age had done. They, or at least their parents, wouldn’t want them to associate with someone like himself. After all, only freaks required beatings to make them normal.
His bones didn’t ache nearly as much as they should. He wondered how long he had been asleep. Normally, the day after Uncle Vernon or Dudley broke one of his bones, it hurt like the dickens, and every move was agony. The second day was a vast improvement, but still any movement brought a bit of pain. By the end of five days things were back to normal.
On the other hand — or was it hoof, now? — he had never had a cast before to hold his broken bones together. That had to make a difference.
In the meantime, he started to itch. Not all over, of course, just in those places where it would be impossible to scratch due to his restraints. And now that he had started to think about it, there were several places that just itched terribly!
Scootaloo jumped up onto the bed and began examining the various ropes and pulleys dangling over his bed. She pushed on one rope. Harry’s right arm shifted up, twisting his cast slightly.
There was a minor twinge of pain, making Harry blink in surprise. Based on that it had to be the third day, meaning he had been asleep for nearly two days. That was bad. He needed to eat. If he went too long without eating it became very difficult for him to stay awake and move around.
“Scootaloo! Don’t do that!” Apple Bloom ordered.
“Aww. I’m just trying to figure out how these things work.” She moved her hoof off that rope to another.
Harry’s right arm settled back, but now his left shoulder lifted. That didn’t hurt, but it gave him an idea on how to deal with the itch right there beside the cast. The girls hadn’t run off in disgust yet, but after telling their parents about him he was sure they wouldn’t return. He should probably take advantage of their presence while they were here.
“Um,” Harry said, trying to wriggle his shoulder against the bed, “Could one of you scratch my shoulder, here?” He tried to point with his nose. Sweetie Belle moved around the bed and propped herself up against it, extending a hoof to his neck, “Here?”
“No, more to the back, right at the edge of the cast.”
She moved her hoof towards his back.
“Just a bit farther. . . .”
“Can’t,” she said, “you’re not high enough.”
“Scootaloo,” he said, “Lift me a bit higher.”
Eventually, through trial and error, Harry was twisted mostly to his right and Sweetie Belle managed to find the spot.
“Oh, yes, that’s it,” the colt crooned. After a moment, he added, “That’s enough, now right between my shoulder blades about ten centimetres down, do you think you can reach it?”
After a explaining he meant a hoof-length or two, it took a coordinated effort by all three fillies to get him almost sitting up. The three fillies pushed or pulled various ropes to accomplish that feat. It hurt a little bit, but no more than a mild toothache. The kind where you can’t seem to leave the little bugger alone, you just have to keep poking at it to see if it still hurts. And it feels so good when you stop. But getting that itch scratched was more than worth it.
Just as he was about to tell Sweetie Belle that she had taken care of that itchy spot perfectly his room’s door opened. He glanced over at it as a new doctor walked in. She, he assumed it was a she from the length of her hair, was a unicorn and had a dark brown coat with a yellow mane and tail. Her higher voice confirmed his guess.
“What are you doing?” she cried out as soon as she realized what she was seeing, taking a half-step backwards.
Already precariously balanced and startled by the sudden yell, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle slipped and fell into the ropes. Apple Bloom simply fell off the bed with a thud and an “Ow!” Harry, on the other hand, was yanked up into a standing position — that is, standing like a biped and not a quadruped — then dropped and flung onto his face as first Sweetie Belle and then Scootaloo managed to extricate themselves from the ropes by following Apple Bloom’s example and falling off the bed.
“AHHHH!” cried Harry at the sudden and unexpected change of position. “OWW!” all four foals said from their new positions a moment later.
With his face buried in the bed, Harry reflected that maybe asking the fillies for help in scratching his itches by playing with the ropes wasn’t that great of an idea. At least now the pain from his casts did a marvellous job of masking the itches. And pain he could handle. But still, probably worth it.
The nurse, when she arrived in answer to the yelling, was not pleased. Harry knew she was a nurse because she wore a nurse’s hat with a red cross on it and was all white. And she had a name tag that said, quite clearly, “Nurse Redheart.” She had neither wings nor a horn.
She soon had Harry on his back, his arms suspended properly over the bed, and his pain rapidly fading back to normal levels. The three fillies were each sitting in a separate corner of the room, with their noses firmly placed at the intersection of the walls in each respective corner. Their ears were all swivelled towards Harry so they could hear what was going on when they couldn’t see.
Nurse Redheart finally left with much grumbling about meddling fillies. Just before she closed the door, she said, “One little peep out of any of you,” and she stared at each filly in turn, even though they couldn’t see it, “and out the door you go! And I don’t care if the Princess wants you here!”
After a moment’s silence, the new pony, who had observed everything from a position beside the Guardpony and staying well out of the way of the irate nurse, stepped closer. She said, “Good afternoon, Hahry Potter. I am Doctor Deep Healer.” She, too, had a clipboard floating alongside her head. “I’m a unicorn specialist.” She sat beside his bed. “Now, I’ve been told that you managed to teleport. Is that correct?”
Harry blinked at her, then said, “I guess, if you say so, ma’am. I don’t know what teleporting is.”
She gave him a long look, then explained, “Teleporting is disappearing from one place and reappearing at another, which can be some distance from the original place. Most adult unicorns never manage that skill as it takes a great deal of concentration and power. And even then they can only manage ten or twenty thousand celestials, fifty thousand at most, without a lot of practice. For someone as young as you to successfully do it for the distance you covered, almost three thousand celestials, is unheard of.” She gave a brief smile. “That’s why I was called in. To determine the extent of your magic abilities.”
“There’s no such thing as magic,” was Harry’s reflexive response, as his Uncle had beat into him.
The doctor leaned back and blinked in surprise. The three fillies exchanged surprised looks from their respective corners. “’Course there is!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “Yeah,” added Apple Bloom, “we all have magic! Scoots to fly, and me to the earth!”
As soon as Harry had said that, though, his eyes turned to the clipboard and feathery pen floating beside the doctor’s head. His Uncle and Aunt had always insisted there was no such thing as magic, even going so far as to turn off the telly anytime there was a show that had magic in it or just mentioned the word. And Harry could still hear his Uncle’s voice as he declaimed, “All magicians are frauds who fool people with smoke and mirrors.”
Now, watching that clipboard hang in the air as if it were resting on a table, he had to wonder. Where were the smoke and mirrors? And then there was his sudden change in form from human to pony. If that wasn’t magical, what was?
On the other hand, he had read magazine articles in the library that explained how scientists were trying to determine if things such as telepathy and other so-called “mind arts” existed. The evidence was contradictory and almost never could be done a second time by someone else in a scientifically controlled experiment. But that it happened in the first place meant things were not as black and white as some people believed.
And then there was the famous quote from the science-fiction author Arthur C. Clarke, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” Perhaps that was what magic was, a highly advanced technology that the ignorant lumped together under the misleading label of “magic.”
“At least that’s what my uncle and aunt always said,” he added softly.
The doctor was obviously rethinking her approach as she pursed her lips and hummed.
“Has it ever happened that when you wanted something really badly, like candy or a cookie, it just seemed to fly to your hooves?”
He slowly shook his head. His Uncle and Aunt would have severely punished him if they had ever seen something like that happen. Just thinking about it made some of his scars twinge, and those were from things his relatives had accused him of without anything indicating he was responsible! If they had actually seen him doing something so freakish . . . . Well, he shuddered to think what his Uncle would have done to him.
He thought about some of the odd things that had happened in his life that had gotten him punished. “My teacher once had his hair turn blue. And another time I was running from my cousin and I suddenly was on top of the school. I thought a wind had blown me up there.”
She frowned. “So, you’ve teleported twice now.” She lapsed into thought, worrying her lower lip. Finally she said, “I’m going to cast a small spell to see if I can determine your magical potential, okay?”
He nodded.
Her horn started to glow a deeper pink. Her eyes lost focus, as if she were looking at something closer to her than his head. She took a quick breath and a step back, as if startled, then frowned again.
“I need to do a stronger spell. You might feel a little warm.”
The glow on her horn intensified and, indeed, he felt a warm heat suffuse his body. It was sort of relaxing, actually.
The doctor squinted, then sighed. She shook her head. “I’ll need to consult with some of my associates in Canterlot before I can say more. In the meantime, please take it easy and relax and recover from your injuries.” She smiled at him and stood. “Your meal should be here in a moment.”
True to her word, no sooner had she walked out the door than Nurse Redheart brought in a push cart with a bowl and three plates on it.
“Hello, again, Hahry Potter,” she said in a kindly voice. She gave a stern look at the three fillies each of whom quickly returned to examining their respective corner intently.
He nodded in acknowledgment, offering an accompanying and meek, “Hello, ma’am.”
“Okay you three troublemakers, these plates for you three. You can stay as long as you behave,” she said. Shamefacedly, the three fillies turned around, “Yes, Nurse Redheart,” they said.
“It was an accident,” said Scootaloo.
“We were just trying to help Hahry scratch his itches,” said Sweetie Belle apologetically.
“Ah’m sorry,” said Apple Bloom sorrowfully.
After staring at the three sternly, the nurse’s expression slowly changed to a smile and she pointed with her nose at three plates to one side of the cart. They appeared to be salads of some sort.
One at a time a soft pale-green glow surrounded each plate and brought them over to the girls. Harry noticed the same pale-green glow around Sweetie Belle’s horn. The little filly had her face scrunched up in concentration and her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth.
Scootaloo somehow grabbed her plate between her hooves as it hovered in front of her and started munching away at the greens piled on the plate. Apple Bloom soon followed her example. And then Sweetie Belle served herself. There were no utensils, they just stuffed their muzzles into the greens and started eating.
Meanwhile, the nurse was positioning herself beside Harry. She smiled at him. “We’re going to start you with vegetable soup.” Then she took a spoon with a long handle on it in her mouth and scooped up some soup from the bowl on the cart. She swung it over to him and waited a moment. It was clear that because he couldn’t feed himself, she was going to do it for him. Sighing, he opened his mouth and let her do her job.
It was a light vegetable soup that was more broth that substance, but it was just what he needed. And it was surprisingly flavourful. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever having a soup with as many flavours as this one seemed to have. He was surprised at how quickly things went as he finished off the bowl in what felt like record time. He would have licked the bowl if she had held it up for him. “Thank you,” he said gratefully, “that was very good.”
“Good,” she said. “That should have filled you up nicely!”
He looked at the empty bowl, then back at her. Somewhat hesitantly, and in a small voice, he said, “Could I have a little more?”
She stared at him, surprised. “Really?”
He nodded hesitantly. He was a bit surprised she hadn’t yelled at him for criticizing how much she had fed him by daring to ask for more.
She frowned, then said, “Well, we’ll wait half an hour and if you’re still hungry, I’ll bring you a bit more.”
He nodded. That was how she planned to handle it. Keep him happy by promising more knowing she wouldn’t be back. She probably thought he would only realize she wasn’t going to be bringing him more when bedtime arrived. Well, at least they had actually given him one decent meal.
Sweetie Belle had already put the fillies’ plates back on the cart, so soon it was just him, the three girls, and the guard.
With a full stomach, and his bad days before, Harry realized he was still quite tired. However, there were a few questions he had. Harry looked at Sweetie Belle. “How did you do that? Make the plates float, I mean.”
“What?” She frowned. “Well, I just . . . .” And that turned into an odd discussion which boiled down to, “I don’t know, I just do it!” About the only useful information he got was when she said, “. . . I tell the magic what I want to do and then push it out from my horn.”
Ah. That was disappointing. He didn’t have a horn. He also didn’t have wings — he certainly would have noticed them when the doctor was doing his examination!
That was when Sweetie Belle said, “But you won’t be able to do anything anyway . . .”
Harry rolled his eyes. He wanted to say something sarcastic about Captain Obvious, but held back. Sarcasm frequently led to beatings. Or tattling to teachers, which led to problems of a different kind. Those problems usually entailed a beating at the Dursleys’ for being a rude “freak.”
“. . . because the doctors put a ring on your horn to prevent you from using your magic.”
He stared at her incredulously. “Horn?” he said disbelievingly. “I have a horn?”
The fillies exchanged puzzled looks. How could a unicorn not know they had a horn?
“Well, yeah!” said Scootaloo, pointing at his forehead.
Harry turned his eyes up and could just barely see a short piece of spiral cut bone that moved left and right as he moved his head. If he could have moved his arms he would have reached up and felt for it.
“I have a horn?” he said softly. Did that mean he could do magic, too? But, wait, Sweetie Belle said something about a ring. He looked back at her and said, “A ring?”
She looked down at the floor and traced a circle with a front hoof. “Yeah, a magic suppressing ring. It prevents you from using your horn to cast magic. They were afraid you might teleport away again and hurt yourself because you’re so weak.”
He glared at her.
She took a step back, “Hey, it’s not my fault!”
He looked up at the ceiling and huffed. They were right. If he could teleport, he probably would try to escape again.
He just stared at the ceiling for several minutes thinking about how he was now a unicorn and could apparently cast magic. He smiled to himself. Boy, he thought, wait until I get to the Dursleys. They will be soo sorry they weren’t nice to me! He would have rubbed his hands together if his arms weren’t in casts. He began to daydream about what he was going to do to them.
The three fillies quickly got bored after realizing he was lost in thought and fell to arguing about what they needed to do next on their current Cutie Mark Crusade.
Nurse Redheart returning to the room startled them all. “It’s about time for you three to be headed home,” she said, looking at the fillies. “We’ll see you tomorrow after school.” She turned to Harry. “Are you still hungry for a bit more? It’s been about an hour since you ate.”
Harry was startled that she actually remembered to ask that question. Did she truly plan to bring him more? Before he could reply, though, his stomach growled. Sheepishly, he just nodded.
The girls and nurse stared at him, astonished. He had eaten a full meal and his stomach was already empty? What kind of appetite did this colt have? Or did he have four hollow legs?
With a shake of their heads, the three fillies began to file out of the room. “Bye!” “See ya tomorrow!” “Don’t run through any walls!” They called out as they left. “Scootaloo!” scolded Sweetie Belle. Scootaloo just shrugged and waved goodbye to Harry.
Harry blinked at them for moment — he couldn’t exactly wave, now could he? — said, “bye,” and then stuck his tongue out at Scootaloo, who just laughed.
After polishing off a second bowl of soup, Harry thanked Nurse Redheart again. Then he returned to staring at the ceiling, contemplating what had happened the last few days. For which he had been conscious for only a few hours.
How he had gotten to this strange world he hadn’t the slightest idea. Why he was a pony, he likewise had no idea. That the ponies who populated this world treated him better than the people back in Little Whinging was a fact.
Well, he assumed that ponies populated this world. Perhaps there were other intelligent animals, who knew for sure? Anyway, he was getting far better treatment here than he had ever gotten in Little Whinging, so he wasn’t about to start complaining about little things like becoming a pony or magic being real. And, it seemed, that the ponies were convinced he, himself, could do magic!
In fact, thinking about what Doctor Deep Healer had said, she seemed convinced he had used magic back in Little Whinging! But how could he have done magic when apparently you needed a unicorn horn to do it?
But Uncle Vernon had always said magic was fake. Here, clearly, it wasn’t fake. And there, well, apparently, it wasn’t a big wind that blew him up to the school’s roof. He had “teleported” when trying to escape Dudley at school. And if he had teleported, which is called magic here, then magic was real there, too.
He remembered Aunt Petunia, tired of seeing him come back from the barbers looking as though he hadn’t been at all, had taken the kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left “to hide that horrible scar” he was so proud of.
And he had hated it. He knew the kids at school would laugh and make no end of fun at him. He would, again, be utterly humiliated. But the next morning, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off! Magic was the only reasonable explanation, now that he thought about it.
And then Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into Dudley’s old revolting brown sweater with orange puff balls. The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn’t fit Harry. Again, the only reasonable explanation was magic!
And he couldn’t forget how he never got sick, although Dudley seemed to catch every bug that came by. While that might just be luck, everyone he knew in Primary school came down sick at least once a year, so probably not luck.
And then there were the beatings. Bruises disappeared in a few hours. Cuts healed overnight. It had always puzzled him that whenever he saw someone with a broken arm or leg, that they had to wear a cast for weeks. He knew his so-called uncle had broken bones with some of his beatings, but Harry always recovered enough to be back at his chores in a couple of days. Days, not weeks.
Was . . . was . . . that what they meant when they said they would beat the freakishness out of him? Magic was what made him a freak? Magic that he had that they did not? They were punishing him because he could do things they could not?
And that meant that all those things they blamed on him might truly have been his fault! If they had explained things, maybe he could have controlled it and prevented so much of it from happening!
He could do magic and they could not, so he was a FREAK. He had a talent that they did not and therefore he was a FREAK! All these years, all that pain, both emotional and physical, was because they were afraid and jealous of him!
He laid there, too stunned to know how to react. He wanted to scream, yell, throw things, kick the wall, and throw a tantrum that would put one of Dudley’s to shame. But he couldn’t move, the ropes and weights prevented him from doing anything physical. And if he screamed and kicked his legs in the air — and oh, how he wanted to scream and kick — that would only bring the nurses and then the doctors running. Not to mention startling the guard at the door. And they would want to know what was wrong and he would end up embarrassed and frustrated. And punished for disturbing everyone.
He closed his eyes and ruthlessly pushed down his primal reactions. The only outward sign of his inner turmoil was the way his breath hissed in and out through his gritted teeth.
It took a long time before he began to calm down. And that was only because he distracted himself with planning the retribution he would rain down upon the Dursleys and the other bullies in Little Whinging. Perhaps even burning the school down.
He finally faded off to sleep debating the order of his victims in exacting his revenge.
۸-ꞈ-۸
Wow, just one question: Why have the Dursleys beat Harry and still have nothing come of it? Even Dumbledore wouldn't have kept Harry there if his life was truly in danger, not to mention that no matter how much of a delinquent Harry was said to be, broken bones and mysterious absences from school due to said broken bones would warrant an investigation, leading to the Dursleys' arrest and Harry being taken into police custody.
That's some dark thoughts coming from Harry at the end. Very resonable for a child in his situation, but I thnk a lttle OOC for this stage, in his life. But i've seen the anger motivated Harry pulled off successfully before.
I do like the story, your writing is very entertaining. I'm looking forward to seeing more of your imagination.
Interesting...in earlier chapters you had Harry act a bit out of character. Not enough to call it out then, but he did seem to be more physically tortured and filled with more self hate than the normal canon Harry. Now from this chapters ending I'm getting the feeling you made these changes to Harry to create a darker version of the character. I can imagine this version of Harry, had he not been sent to equestria, would have followed Tom Riddles path, leading to a "Dark Lord Potter" battle with Voldermart. Now how will that effect the rest of the HIE path of this story.
8894905
It's not that difficult for parents to get away with mistreating children for years if they are careful -- just read the newspapers where you read about parents doing just that and the neighbors say, "We never suspected...."
As for missing school, "He caught the flu" "He slipped down the stairs," "He was climbing a tree and slipped," "He's such a klutz!" As long as it wasn't too often an occurrence no one would say anything.
Will the CMC ask Harry to join their group as a new member, also who will take care of Harry once he gets out of the hospital, I could see him being adopted by Twilight that's for sure.
8895065
What happens next is already written out over the next dozen chapters. Be patient and all will be revealed.
8895065
Now there’s a thought how would ponyville react to hagred
8898517
But here's another thought, what type of Pony would Hagrid look like, I would think a BIG Earth Pony bigger then Big Mac.
8898526
We have seen him use magic so I say BFU.( Big fucking unicorn)
Quite a reasonable point of view from a human child. Have to say Harry scream less than I saw in the movie - kinda impress me, really.
8894977 And as you've already shown, in this case someone (Dumbledork) was manipulating memories. There are several reasons Dum Dum would make Harry suffer systematic abuse.
Dumb-old-dork needs a weapon. Something he can point at Voldemort and let go, and since Harry has to die anyway to destroy the Horcrux, there's no reason to want him alive at the end, or any kind of balanced, normal human being. Dumbles can trust the wizard healing factor to keep Harry alive through things that would kill normal humans, and has those monitoring devices not to mention Figg. If Harry was in immentent danger of death, Dumbles would be able to apparate there and keep him alive, or tansport him to Hogwarts Infirmary, making sure to swear Madam Pomfrey to secrecy and obliviating her after she healed Harry.
Harry's living conditions mean that he has no strong attachment to the muggle world, no connections to friends or family that might hold him back from martyring himself. It also ensures he has a reduced view of his own self worth, and is conditioned to be easily biddable, especially by anyone who shows him the slightest kindness. It's classic child grooming strategies, as used by pedophiles everywhere.
The other side of it is ensuring that the legend of 'The Boy who Lived' grows out of all proportion. Who do you think gives the press and the merchandisers the photographs so that people know what Harry looks like? And probably pockets the profits, sorry, 'keeps them safe for Harry', from the merchandising as he's Harry's Magical Guardian.
So when Harry finally enters the Wizarding woirld, he goes from being hated and despised to being a hero, loved by all... or rather his Dumbledore created persona is. So this puts a massive initial positive investment in Harry's emotional bank account towards the Wizarding World, making him feel it is his home, and even when bad things happen there he will still feel loyalty to it.
Of course, this ensures he's unlikely to make any real friends, as people will want to befriend 'The Boy who lived' not Harry. So once again there are no actual connections to hold him back from risking himself. It also puts pressure on him to live up to the persona Dumbles created, ensuring he will martyr himself on schedule.
And by being the person who makes all the good things happen, Hagrid coming to rescue him, being the kindly old grandfather who takes a personal interest in Harry, Dumbles ensures that he himself has Harry's love and trust, enabling him to manipulate Harry into doing whatever he wants. He also ensures that he is the first person Harry will look to for information. Once again, classic grooming tactics.
Of course, meeting the Weasleys was a set up. Does anybody honestly think that Molly Weasley, someone who's brought her brood to Platform 9 3/4 for years, doesn't know where it is, or would talk loudly about it on the muggle side of the station, risking the Statute of Secrecy? Dumbles probably suggested to Molly that she do something like that to attract Harry, 'to make sure the boy was shown where to go'. It also made sure that it was likely that Ron would be his first friend, someone who could be controlled by Dumbledore through Molly.
The fact that Ron is a jealous little prat who has a massive hate complex against Slytherins and want to keep 'The Boy Who Lived' exclusively his friend (see above and that the first thing Ron asked was to see his scar), would once again isolate Harry from making other friends, especially Slytherin friends, was just a nice bonus.
Even Snape is part of the schema. He's the abusive drill sergeant who's harshness is moderated by Dumbledore when he feels like it, once again making Dumbles the hero in Harry's eyes. He also maintains the level of abuse that ensures Harry's sense of self worth is thoroughly crushed. Once agin, Dumbles doesn't even need to do anything, he knew perfectly well what sort of man Snape is, and how he would react given a juvenile copy of James Potter to abuse without consequence. Yes, Snape keeps his promise to keep Harry alive, but that doesn't mean he likes him, and at the end he's the one who sends Harry to his death in front of Voldemort, breaking that promise too.
Basically, the game was rigged by Dumb Dumb right from the start.
9003167
Thank you. That was the most throughout and coherent analysis of canon Dumbledore's plan and crimes that I have read so far.
9003167
However, nothing you've said paints Hermione or Luna as traitors, so I'm content to sit back and let others debate.
9010167
Hop over to the fanfiction sites for Harry Potter and you'll find this a common theme explored in most works that have any time spent on Dumble's motives.
No matter how you cut it, in cannon Harry's home life is abusive. The fact that no school official, magical or mundane, ever stepped in is a major problem for any adult reading the books.
Even if there was no physical abuse (though the fact that Harry hunting is a thing lays doubt on that), emotional, psychological, and financial abuse was by cannon occurring.
I apologize for bringing this up when you're already far past it, but at the same time, it's still somewhat jarring. How can you, in the previous chapter, have the doctor saying that he wants Harry to eat as much as he can, and then have Nurse Redheart acting surprised he wants a second bowl of soup? That just... I know it's a small thing, but it's still kind of jarring when reading the chapters back-to-back.
9031507
Many animals, humans included, when presented with food and or water after starving or being dehydrated have a tendency to overeat or drink to harmful levels, that's why she offered the half hour test, I think her shock came more from the fact he'd burned through enough of the food for his stomach to actually be growling.
9024940
Furthermore, White Bumblebee is the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; why did he never spend any time or resources checking if Sirius was actually guilty of mass-murder, either before his imprisonment or after his escape?
Because Long White Beard needed him out of the way, unable to use his godfather status to adopt Harry.
Similarly, I'm sure the old Foat Gucker made sure the Longbottoms (of whom Alice was Harry's godmother) were also incapable of adopting him; some fanfics assume they also used the Fidelius charm, with Augustus Longbottom (Neville's grandmother) as the Secret Keeper writing their address on parchment, which she gave to The Great Manipulator. Therefore, Albie could've given that parchment to Snivellus, in order to hand to Riddle.
If not that, then at least making sure the Longbottoms weren't healed; the magical government is heavily corrupt, so this wouldn't be too hard to imagine.
8894905
Because flanderization. Fanfics authors know that Dusley abused Harry, so they portay Dusley breaking Harry's bones on a regular basis, they know that Harry was scrawny, so they make it so Harry is in the last stages of dystrophia. They don't have enough imagination to portay anything else, they just crank it up to the max for maximum effect.
An Englishman (pony?) using Imperial measurements? What manner of nonsense is this?!
Harry wouldn't use imperial. He'd be using metric like a normal society should.
9059565
You also realize how easy it is to actually break a bone right? I mean, not run into a wall easy but fairly close, especially with the current setup for the story.
You know, I wonder what the unicorns of Equestria would think of some of the wand components used in their construction in the Potterverse?
9059565 Yes, this story lays it on THICK. Harry would have been better off with the Voldemort in the canon world!
These first couple chapters need a rewrite to tone it the heck down a notch.
No more was needed than the Dudley gang taking the beating too far and then ditching Harry in the woods and running for it.
9100773
Fluttershy would be over the animal parts. but the unicorn tail can't be torn off. it has to be cut and no one is gonna manage that without the unicorns permission.
9059158
STOP BASHING ON DUMBLEDORE!
Ah like this!
9130902
Brain.exe has crashed ... rebooting ... rebooting failed ... troubleshooting ... Brain.exe damaged beyond repair
9059158
A bit late, but I'd thought I'd point out that this wouldn't work. The Secret Keeper needs to reveal the secret directly. Dumbles note to Harry regarding number 12 was considered direct because A) it was written specifically for Harry, and B) Harry was the first (and only) person to read it. If Harry had kept that note and, say, given it to Dean, nothing would happen. Same here; Dumbles giving Snape (and indirectly, Riddle) would not reveal anything for the Death Eaters.
I've been thinking this for a while, but Dumbledore's lucky Harry didn't end up a complete psychopath like his League incarnation.
9184983
That is a conclusion shared by some clinical psychologists. ESPECIALLY when he learns a person in authority not only knew of the abuse, but condoned it. And if Dumbledore were truly worried about Harry's well-being, he would have established a generous stipend for the Dursleys, which certainly would have mitigated their treatment of him (his grandparents, who died only a few years before he was born, were classified as wealthy by JKR.
Whoa now Harry ... the Path of Vengeance is not a righteous one.
More corrections!
this sentence no verb
pretty sure that should be two words there ...
For people who defend Dumbledore, consider this: Destiny is only a few steps away from machinations. The puppeteer pulls along the strings of Fate. (However, puppeteers must be careful, for they may find poisonous thorns hidden within their marionettes.)
In other words, whenever someone uses destiny as a reason and motivation for anything, I call bullshit. He looked into the future for a prophesy and tried to build towards it.
However, the future is not set in stone like the past already is. The smallest of changes can make the biggest of differences. In order for a particular future to occur, one must manually pave the way, step by step, brick by brick. Any neglect and the path falls to the whims of entropy and luck. Either way, it was playing with someone’s fate either by tugging them along without choice or gambling on their lives.
9330465
Neither canonical Dumbledore nor this story version of Dumbledore are obsessed with prophesy, your argument is irrelevant.
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9346432 You fucking bastard, that was amazing.
9087690
If this is before Hogwarts, this is about 1990. When did England give up Imperial units for Metric?
It's moments like this when you realize Dumbledore was damn lucky his plan didn't turn Harry into as big of a muggle hater as any Death Eater.
9373195
Not that they necessarily gave them up, but England started going metric in 1965. The consumers however, have been remarkably resistant in weights and scales. Distances, however, are all in kilometers.
9410024
True, but it couldn't be help with everything going on at the time. Not to mention the spell that protected Harry while he was in the muggle world only has affect near blood relative of his mother until he turned 17. At least that what I could remember its been quite awhile.
9087690 9093705
Wait, weren't inches, yards, pounds, and Fahrenheit invented by the British?
Are you trying to tell me the English gave the USA a bunch of nonsensical measurement systems, and then went and converted themselves to metric while I had to struggle in school to memorize their crappy convoluted units? Bastards!
9100806
Actually no. This is exactly how traumatized Harry should be, and exactly how the effects of child abuse should be portrayed, if the novels were more adult-oriented and the author was interested in being more realistic. But ofc she isn't. I have a dim view of the entire series, btw.
9185065
The only ppl who scoff at the "Dumbodore conspiracy theory" are ppl who loved the books as kids, so can't accept their childhoods being tainted by reality. I like your portrayal of Harry as a real child, rather than some fairy tale juvenile hero as shown in the damn movies.
9614298
The problem is the severe tonal whiplash the beginning causes. I honestly wouldn't mind it so much if the rest of the story stuck to that tone but it doesn't so it winds up feeling unnecessarily dark and violent. It feels like it's only there for shock value rather than actually serving the story. You can do traumatized Harry without going into the gritty details.
9614298
No the EU forced England to switch to the subpar metric system and the public has basically not fully converted. It is a bit of a blend of the two systems based of personal preference.
9614977
Oi! Don't go calling the SI units subpar! Length and distance units (centimetre, metre, kilometre) go up based on powers of ten (10mm = 1cm, 100cm = 1m, 1000m = 1km), and temperature's on a 0-100 water freezing-to-boiling scale - which is perfectly logical and sensical.
Unlike your 'subpar' Imperial units, where water freezing is 32° and boiling is 212° - a 180° difference, and why such exact numbers? Why not round it off to 30° and 210°? And where 12 inches = 1 foot, 3 feet = 1 yard and 1760 yards = 1 mile - what sense does that make? Where's the pattern, the logic, in that mess?
There's a reason why most of the world uses SI units, and why scientists also use them; because they're just so much more logical and easier to follow.
9684412
Bull. I know the difference between an inch, foot, yard, and mile are anything in metric is pure fantasy. All those prefixes just confuses the average person. I don't need to remember what the difference between milli, kilo, micro, or any other prefix. You need different names for the units because it makes visualizing everything so much easier.
9684412
9684476
Remember Imperial units were first designed for an agrarian society where a farmer wanted to know how much land a plowing rig could do in a certain amount of time (furlongs per fortnight was really important at harvesting time -- furlong, a measure of distance of roughly 220 yards, originally the length of a furrow in the common, at the time, field of 10 acres). Getting an answer of this will plow 1/247th of a square kilometer was useless when most people were illiterate and couldn’t count higher than twenty-five. It was easier to say, “This rig can do an acre a day!” (the acre was in the typical area that could be plowed in one day with a yoke of oxen pulling a wooden plow). And eight furlongs was a mile.
Similarly, it’s easier to say “Use an ounce of cooking oil”, than “use 28.4 milliliters” and get the question “how much is 28 and a fourth? That’s a quarter, right? A fourth of one?”
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reading this while I have a tooth that hade chipped in 2 and a half is loose made me laff
Well, this story has taken a dark turn.
Than
10130929
live the first decade of your life being beaten by your neighbors, your relatives, and berated for every single thing around you that might or might not be your fault, and we'll see how well YOU take the bombshell dropped on you that Harry Potter received.