adHP: Ready As I'll Ever Be

1. Michael vs Paperwork

[I'm the bad guy, that's fine
It's no fault of mine
And some justice at last will be served.]

||«"I'm planing on taking on a protege."»||

When one believes one is dead it is often highly disconcerting to realise they are not.

Harry was not displeased by this feeling though he'd strongly believed he'd have only ever felt it once. Imagine his surprise to be snapped from it a second time. And in such an odd manner. He swore that it was the long since forgotten sound of Petunia smacking her hand into the cupboard door, startling Harry from his cot. He stared at the tiny space eyes clouded with confusion.

"Get up boy, get up!" That was definitely, without a doubt in his confusion ruled mind, Petunia's voice, younger though, he thought blearily as sleep began to loosen it's hold on him. Her voice was less scratchy, more shrill, like she had the renewed vigour to taunt him with the insistent screech of her banshee like voice. He glanced around the cupboard, how many years now has it been since he'd slept in here? Some many years he could assume. Easy to count on two hands though should he be bothered too, certainly not long enough he decided recoiling at the stale smell of the small cupboard. It seemed bigger than he last remembered, spacier. Which was odd considering he had grown a fair bit since he'd last slept in there. He was snapped from his thoughts when the door opened revealing Vernon Dursley, speaking of things getting bigger. Harry swore that while Vernon looked thinner he was also somehow bigger. If that was possible. The idea was already causing a dull ache in his head as he tried to process it.

"Are you deaf?!" The man growled reaching in and dragging Harry out by the scruff of his second hand shirt. Harry fought a scoff. With all the screaming and crap he'd gone through, it was a wonder how he wasn't deaf. His brows knit into a small frown as realisation struck him. As scrawny for his age as Harry was he doubted the man should have found it so effortless to drag an 18 year old out of a cupboard. How he'd fit was a mystery in of itself. He was at least taller than the 11 Year old that had once slept in there. Sourly he registered that his whale of an uncle was speaking again, Harry still dangling from his grasp, held at arm's length like a rag covered in something nasty. "What have you done to your nails, freak?" Vernon asked. Harry glanced down at his hands, noting but not really understanding how small and smooth they seemed to be. Years of fighting and trouble had calloused his hands and they seemed so much smaller than he recalled, and thinner, as if the healthy fat he'd managed to build up had once again melted so he was barely better than a skeleton with skin. His nails were black, as he'd remembered from the night before. Though he also remembered dying so he wasn't sure what to believe. Maybe the last part had been a bad dream brought on by the change.

"Has the mutt gone mute or something? And usually he struggles more." Petunia shrilled. Oh how Harry had hated the sound of her voice. Now it was a neutral feeling as if he couldn't bring himself to hate it. She herself sounded unsure, she stood nearby, her bony arms folded over her chest, looking at him dangling from Vernon's gasp. Her eyes narrowed and cold as if he had insulted her mother. Harry noted he hadn't spoken, call it instinct but, he felt no need to do so either. He blinked and in his head vowed silence until things started to make sense. Vernon shrugged, which caused Harry to swing around wildly. He really should not be able to do so as easily as he did. Harry contemplated kicking his uncle and reminding them he wasn't going to take their crap. He was of age now, he could use magic outside of school. They had some nerve treating him like a house elf again. But he pushed the thoughts aside, he needed to figure things out before he started to act rashly.

"Perhaps he's learned his place." The beefy man said not caring. He dropped Harry on the ground who made no noise as to hint that it had hurt. Unfortunately though, it had, pain flaring at his tailbone and shooting up his spine, nearly knocking the breath out of him. He noticed he was in different hand-me-downs compared to the night before, but he shrugged it off as remembering wrong. Harry frowned again, he shouldn't have fallen that far, he was almost as tall as Vernon. Or should have been. "Get up. You have garden beds to de-weed." Harry stood up and looked curiously around him, everything was bigger, and the Dursley's hadn't made him do menial house work in years. When had they suddenly gained back their courage? The question kept popping up in his mind. It was baffling, sure they had still treated him disdainfully but if he left them alone they usually left him alone. "Get moving." Vernon said harshly kicking Harry who resisted the urge to turn at bite the man. Which was a strange urge. He's never been one to bite before.