The idea for this story came to me. It was "Harry starts a revolution" but then I thought, "How do I make Harry get to the point he starts a revolution" the answer came to me, his friends. This will include major character loss, Harry will not be becoming the next dark lord but neither will he be the next lord of the light.

I guess you could also say the story is about the science of magic too.

As this story is still being written you may come across mistakes, I would greatly appreciate these mistakes being pointed out so that I may fix them and improve the overall quality of the story.

For as long as Harry Potter could remember he had known he was not like the other children, at first he had assumed other children also needed to cook every meal for their families. He had been excited to go to school at first, he was optimistic and saw it as a chance to find someone else, someone like him.

After awkwardly trying to make conversation with the other students Harry quickly discovered two things, the other students were far better at talking compared to himself and nobody else seemed to be treated like himself. None of his classmates slept under the stairs and most were appalled at the idea of cooking for their families.

As the weeks passed he noticed the biggest difference between himself and his classmates was that the other children were loved, they would run up to their parents at the end of the day and chatter about their day and achievements, their parents smiling down on them as if nothing else was more important than listening to their children.

He saw all these happy families as he walked home by himself, knowing that once he arrived home he had chores to do and dinner to prepare before he could even think about starting on his homework.

For his part Vernon Dursley was proud to say that no matter how angry he got, he had never struck his wife or nephew. Whenever someone came up on the news who had been abusive he would turn to his nephew and say "Good thing you aren't with that person, frankly we must be saints to have put up with you for so long."

Petunia had just enough love left for her sister that she wouldn't intentionally harm him either, she ensured he got enough food to live, but lack of physical abuse was not the same as a healthy childhood. Instead of beating him they simply acted like he just didn't exist, whenever they needed something done they would just yell for the "Boy".

By his seventh birthday Harry had realised that the Dursleys would never care about him or what he achieved, he discovered that so long as he stayed inside his cupboard and out of sight, ensuring his chores were all done on time and to the expected standard then the Dursleys would leave him alone and leave him to his own devices.

At school he had found solace in the library, the librarian didn't ask him difficult questions or make fun of his clothes. She helped him if he needed it and kept the other students bothering him, being in the library was the most peace Harry had ever managed to find.

One day during the summer, once Vernon had gone off to work and Dudley had gone out with his gang, he had gone up to Petunia in the living room and asked her a question.

"Could I have a card for the library, Aunt Petunia?"

"Why would you want a library card?" she asked distractedly, she was currently trying to peer out the window to see what the young couple at number 9 were doing.

"So I could read in my cupboard, I find it very relaxing and if I was allowed to read I wouldn't need to leave it so much. I could just go down to the library and pick out a few books every so often and then just read in quiet." Harry said innocently

"Hmm, I suppose it wouldn't hurt, you're to ensure your chores are completed before you can read. Very well I'll take you to the library tomorrow so you can get this card."

After getting that little library card Harry Potter's life had changed for the better, the Dursleys almost forgot about him entirely and Harry went through great effort to make sure they had no reason to remember his presence. He taught himself skills that interested him or he found important, such as how to sew and fix the hand-me-down clothes the Dursleys had given him, he used his new found knowledge to make his clothes fit him better.

Books became a vital lifeline for him, they were his escape from reality and saviour from the Dursleys contempt, with them he discovered great, expansive universes and learned more about the world he lived in. They taught him science and maths, they taught him how to talk like an adult and how to keep going no matter what stood in his way.

If Petunia had not forgotten one major fact she would never have let Harry have that little card, as with most things people tend to forget it was a simple, undeniable fact. Children's books were often about magic and nobody had bothered to tell Harry that there was a difference between fictional and non-fictional books.

One day, just after his seventh birthday he was reading one of his favourite books on the school playground, it was about a boy who grew up on a farm. A boy who's only relative was a strict aunt and the boy's wise but aged mentor, mister Wolf.

The boy, Garion was capable of performing magic, something which Harry was desperate to learn. The first act of magic was the boy accidently incinerating an enemy, Harry had no desire to incinerate anyone but he couldn't deny the idea of being able to summon fire at will was interesting.

Harry had no idea how to summon fire but fortunately the book gave a fairly detailed guide, first Harry needed to focus his will on what he wanted. He held out his hand and imagined a small flame dancing across his palm, he didn't want it to be too hot or for it to burn him.

The next step in the book was to say the word, the boys mentor, mister Wolf, had told Garion to use a word that fit. Harry focused on his palm and willed the fire to form, he felt something stir within him and he let it build, then when he felt like he was about to burst he said "Flame"

Slowly, carefully a small flame flared into existence on his palm, it even moved how he had imagined. He spent the rest of his break getting the flame to respond to his will, he could change its size and even its intensity. But the more he experimented the more tired he became, when he finally went back to lesson he felt like he hadn't eaten in days.

He spent the next several weeks experimenting, the more he practised the easier he found it. He quickly forgot his books and focused on teaching himself as much magic as he could, he could make small stones hover around him and once even made a flower burst into flame without being anywhere near it.

Every time he used his magic he felt satisfied and complete, it felt right. It fulfilled a desire he never knew he had, it felt like drinking when dehydrated or eating when starved. It didn't take long for Harry to wonder how he ever lived without magic before.

He soon ran out of ideas and went back to his books for any reference they had to magic, he spent every waking moment reading from his books, jotting down any interesting powers or abilities and trying to replicate them in his moments alone. If he hadn't been neglected and ignored his whole life he might have gone and proudly shown the Dursleys his magical abilities, who would have taken away his books in an instant and attempted to stamp out his freakishness.

But having learned the Dursleys would never care about him, Harry never even thought to tell them of his magical study, after all they didn't show any interest in his school work or his books so why would they want to see his magic work.

By regularly exercising and controlling his magic in private the accidental, uncontrolled magic that might have angered the Dursley's never appeared, when a teacher upset him he felt his magic rise to get revenge but he held it down. The wise mentors in his books always told their students to not misuse their magic, he didn't want to know what the Dursley's might do if they knew he had misused his magic at school.

Between Dudley threatening anyone that spoke to Harry and the boy preferring the solitude of the library, nobody at the school tried being friendly to Harry so he never asked about their own magical studies, if he had he would have known he was unique in his school. He was happier reading than trying to awkwardly talk to the students anyway, he told himself.

It came as no surprise then that Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, the boy-who-lived, grew up alone with nothing but books and magic for four long years. As any good psychiatrist would say there are many unseen issues that can occur within children that are neglected, one such issue being the habit to internalise their emotions.

Harry had learnt that when he was upset or angry Vernon would lock him in his cupboard without his books and once, when he had stood up to Dudley and his gang, they had taken great delight in kicking him to the ground and after returning to number 4 Petunia had taken away his books for a whole week.

After that Harry kept his emotions under heavy lock and key, some of the teachers warned the Dursleys that he was displaying sociopathic traits as he never seemed to get angry or sad and suggested that they should get him help before it began too late. The Dursleys couldn't see the point in wasting their time doing so and carried on as they were, after all so what if the freak was a sociopath, so long as he kept up his chores they couldn't care less about what he was or did.

He spent most of his school life in an emotionally neutral state, but no one really saw what was wrong with Harry, who in turn just assumed that it was part of growing older to hide your emotions and only show others what you wanted them to see. By the time his eleventh birthday was around the corner Harry had mastered the art of masking his emotions and his control over his magic had come along leaps and bounds as a result.

He had quickly realised that his emotions made his magic have unpredictable results, but when he held back his emotions his magic became easier to control and direct, although at first it was harder for him to bring his magic to the surface and control it without his emotions doing most of the work for him.

By then Harry felt like he had nothing left to learn while he lived under the Dursleys, a lot of the magic he wanted to try would require more time and space, neither of which was available to him, that is until one day, a week before his eleventh birthday a letter arrived.

Harry was used to receiving letters by now, often they were from the library, offering new books they had just received or a reminder that he only had so many days to return a book. This letter was not one of his normal letters, his library letters were inside thin white envelopes, this was a thick, tea brown envelope, sealed with wax. None of his normal letters had been to where he slept either and this letter was addressed 'Mr. H Potter, the cupboard under the stairs, 4. Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey'.

He slipped the letters that were addressed to him into his cupboard and handed Vernon the rest, he then set about cooking breakfast for the Dursleys as well as his own much smaller breakfast, after they had finished eating he washed the dishes and was allowed to return to his cupboard. Once inside he opened the letter from the library first, as expected it informed him that he had one week left to return his current stack of books 'Great, now I have an excuse to go to the library on my birthday' Harry thought excitedly.

Putting aside that letter he then turned to the other, mysterious letter marked with 'Hogwarts' and upon breaking the seal two pages of parchment fell out Harry stared at the coarse parchment, if he had any doubt left this proved it was not from the library as they would never have been able to afford this quality of paper, he read the letter… and paused… and read it again.

After reading both pages back to front several times he let out a happy sigh, there was a school for magic and he was going to it! For a long time now he had wondered if the other students in his school could do what he did, none of the children gave off a glow like the dark green of his own magic.

Every so often he would see people in the street that also glowed, they always looked slightly 'off', Petunia always made sure to steer Dudley and himself clear of them so Harry never got the chance to speak to them, however he had noted that they often glowed brighter than himself and were always a slightly different colour or shade.

Interestingly Dudley used to have a faint glow when they were younger but it had faded by the time they had turned ten, he never displayed any signs he could do anything like Harry could. Thinking of Dudley made Harry realise that he was going to need the Dursleys permission to go to this Hogwarts, he quickly planned what he was going to say before quietly leaving his cupboard and passing the letter over to Petunia.

At first she only glanced at it, dismissing it as some school trip, but then after a double take she went white with shock "Vernon… Vernon he got the you know what"

"HE WHAT?! I thought we had stamped it out! They must have made a mistake, he stopped that freakishness years ago!" Vernon roared, his face bright red.

Harry was deciding between staying and trying to convince them to let him go to the school and running to safety, before he could make a decision Vernon turned towards Harry while muttering to Petunia "You said this Hogwarts keeps the freaks away for most of the year right?" at Petunia's hesitant nod he continued "Maybe… Just maybe this isn't all bad then, we wouldn't have to deal with him for almost nine months, no need to feed him or have him underfoot… That must be why it was built I guess, to get his lot out of the way of us normal people."

His uncle looked like he was deep in thought, to Harry it looked like a gorilla having to choose which banana to eat. Vernon had started muttering to himself, so quiet that no one in the room could hear his words and after what seemed like an age he nodded to himself, turned to Petunia and told her "You will take him to get whatever they want him to have tomorrow, we can't have them sending him back after all, then we will decide how he will be getting to this 'Hogwarts'"

Petunia had taken him to London the next morning, Harry eagerly looked in every shop they passed but couldn't see any shop which sold any wizarding supplies so he turned to his aunt and asked her "Can you get all of my things in London then?"

"There is a street near here that caters expressly to your people" she had an ugly sneer on her face as she talked, as if it pained her to tell him "You're looking for a sign that says the leaky cauldron"

"Oh… have you been there before then?" Harry wondered

"Once" she looked lost in thought and at the terse reply Harry thought it best to leave her alone.

He noticed the sign she had mentioned a short while later and led her to it and at her instruction, held her hand and opened the door that had appeared. He found himself in a busy pub although he thought the word tavern might be a more appropriate term. Although as he had never actually seen a tavern in real life, the descriptions in his books matched this building. He noticed Petunia had walked up to the counter and was speaking to the old man behind it "I'm looking for… digon alley?" she asked, sounding unsure of herself.

"Ah, Muggle are ya? Diagon Alley, it's just through here if you follow me" he led them into the back and tapped a pattern of bricks with a stick, just as Harry was about to ask him what that was meant to do, the bricks parted before them forming an archway.

Petunia wasted no time in marching down the street, Harry wanted to stop and stare like the other children were doing however due to his aunt's pace he was forced to follow her closely. What little he did manage to see amazed him, he had never seen so many colours before, every person glowed with their own inner light and even the shops glowed brightly, he turned back to Petunia and followed her up the steps in front of a towering marble building that looked like it might topple over at any moment in Harry's opinion.

When he saw the creatures standing guard in front of the doors he thought they might be goblins. Despite the fact they didn't look all that evil and every book he had read agreed that goblins were greedy, mean spirited creatures. When he entered the building he saw that the entire building seemed to be staffed by goblins.

The goblins that were working behind the counters were almost identical to the goblins standing guard outside, the only obvious difference was that these goblins were all counting great piles of gold and silver coins and dressed in smart suits.

Petunia marched up to the closest counter "I wish to convert some money into your wizarding currency for my nephew"

The goblin paused his counting and leaned forward so that he was looking down onto Harry and about eye level with Petunia

"You should know that the conversion rate is… two and a half of your British pound sterling for a galleon" the goblin told her carefully, as if judging how she would respond

"When I was last here it was one pound to every five galleons, that seems a remarkable difference" she said stiffly

"Times have changed my dear. I'm sorry, there is nothing I can do about it" Despite his words Harry didn't think the goblin looked like he was sorry, but then a full toothed grin might have just been what goblins considered apologetic "Either tell me how much you want to convert or go waste someone else's time" the goblin replied sitting back in his stool smugly.

So it begins… having gone back and rewritten most of this chapter to better fit the story I am actually surprised at just how much I feel like I have improved, so much so I personally probably wouldn't have gotten through this chapter originally without leaving. As such I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who gave this story a go, both when it was first started and those reading for the first time!

For those that are new welcome, I currently update the story every Friday.