Harry Potter and the, ah man, ANOTHER trans Harry fic? Really?

Summer in Little Whinging

DISCLAIMER!

J.k. Rowling invented and mostly owns the world, we all are just trying to perfect it.
Brief descriptions of abuse, minor self harm in later chapters, friendship struggles, and hopefully a happy ever after. Trans and random Queer themes.
First time actually posting a fanfic, so bare with me as i figure the site out. Figured I'd mooched off the community enough, better contribute. Grammar isn't my strong suit but I'm trying! I am definitely going to be using ideas I've picked up from other fics. If I've seen it in multiple fics i won't comment, if I've only seen it in one or two I'll definitely try to give credit.
Uh, yeah hopefully you guys enjoy. If you see any glaring mishaps please let me know!

~Harry was undeniably a most unusual child. For starters, Harry possessed magic, not that he understood it as such when he was young. All he knew was that something would inevitably go wrong and he'd be blamed for it. Harry was raised by his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, who hated all things, "peculiar or odd." Although realistically, "Raised by" might be giving them too much credit. The Dursley's provided just enough food that Harry didn't literally starve, usually. The starvation for any kind of emotional support however, that was harder to live with. They provided enough halfway decent hand-me-downs so that Harry's appearance didn't draw too much negative attention, but only because it would make them look bad otherwise. And although they tended to stay just on the legal side of physical abuse, Harry's punishments, which came fast and frequent, were nothing short of brutal.

Harry's aunt and uncle were bad, but most of his real torments came at the hand of his cousin, Dudley. A spoiled hooligan who had learned early on that it was his duty to make sure Harry was miserable, and goddess but he was good at it. Dudley blamed anything and everything on Harry, and Dudley's parents always took his side. As they grew up, Dudley, being slightly older, often used Harry as his very first and favorite punching bag. Thanks to Dudley, Harry learned to run away very early. Unfortunately, Dudley's considerably larger size meant Harry had a very good reason to learn quickly. Even though Dudley couldn't often catch the smaller boy, he rarely held back once he did. Harry regularly received a bloody nose, cut lip, black eye, or even suffered broken bones, though they thankfully healed up in a day or two. If not for Harry's magic becoming so proficient at healing him, Harry likely wouldn't have survived to his eleventh birthday, cause heaven knows the Dursley's weren't about to take Harry to a hospital.

Dudley and his cronies hurled insults as often as fists. Harry hated it, but the insults often hit harder. After all, it was because of Dudley and his gang of hoodlums that Harry hadn't had a real friend until his eleventh birthday. Anyone that even started to befriend Harry backed off as soon as the taunting and threats started.

Because the primary school he and his cousin attended was headmastered by an old friend of Petunia's, the school staff fell prey to Petunia's sob story about how troubled the boy was when all they'd ever done was offer Harry affection. Harry was labeled as a liar and troublemaker at school.

All that changed three years ago, when Hagrid, the giant of a man knocked down the door to deliver a letter. A letter that finally explained what Harry was and why he was so different. For an entire week Uncle Vernon had gone to increasingly bizarre extremes to stop little Harry from reading the letter with so exact an address as to even list his cupboard under the stair. It seemed the sender realized Harry hadn't read the letter, as the very next day three more arrived. When Harry still didn't get to read one, although he, Dudley, and his uncle had wrestled for control of the letters, during which there was a lot of whacking and poking done via Dudley's new walking stick. On the third day of the letter sender's assault nine letters arrived, through various windows and under doors, even though Vernon had blocked off the mail slot. This continued for an entire week, with the letters quickly becoming ridiculous in number and delivery method. By Sunday Vernon had boarded up every access point to the entire house, even going so far as to tape over the shower drain! As Vernon sat down for breakfast Sunday morning, it was with a slightly unhinged smile and a cackle of, "No posts on Sunday," so of course it was at that moment when the enormous Hagrid announced his arrival by loudly knocking at the door. Vernon Dursley, a walrus of a man himself, immediately threatened to call the police. While Vernon felt completely safe in his assumption that the giant man couldn't possibly enter through a locked and boarded door, he dreaded what the neighbors would think. He felt certain all the way up until Hagrid, with a chuckle and a, "have it yer way then," reached out and simply pushed the door over.

Thanks to Hagrid, Harry finally managed to read the long awaited letter. Harry was a wizard! And all the strange occurrences that seemed to surround him were the result of his magical talents reacting to his needs and emotions. Not only that, there was an entire hidden society he was about to join. He had been invited to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! As Hagrid prepared to escort a newly eleven year old Harry to purchase his necessary school supplies, Hagrid shiftily wrote a quick note to Dumbledore that he might just send someone over to keep the Dursley's from trying to withhold Harry from school. The Dursley's, bullies that they were, were easily cowed, though they never told Harry about the incident.

Harry's first two years at Hogwarts were simultaneously thrilling yet terrifying, immensely challenging and ridiculously rewarding. Hagrid, although a bit childlike himself (not to mention a tad irresponsible) provided Harry with his first adult figure that he felt some level of trust for, and by the end of second year Hagrid was almost more of an uncle figure than his blood family ever could be. Harry even made his first real friend in Ron Weasley, and while Ron was a lot of fun, and could even occasionally be thoughtful and really sweet, it wasn't until some funny business involving almost certain death and a troll that Harry made his second true friend. Hermione Granger may not have been as much fun as Ron, but she was incredibly smart, thoughtful, observant, and kind. While neither Ron nor Hermione were particularly patient, especially not with each other, they quickly became the family Harry had never had.

During the summer before Harry's third year at Hogwarts, things had been going, well, suspiciously well. Harry still had a ridiculous amount of chores to keep up with, and of course the verbal abuse was ever present, but he was often turned loose before Petunia's friends came round for afternoon tea. With so much more free time available than Harry was used to, he often escaped to the local library. Because of a couple nasty incidents near the beginning of the summer where Dudley and co. discovered Harry's hideaway, he no longer stayed to read quietly in the library. Harry wasn't sure if the librarians believed Dudley's taunts of "The freaky poof," but he worried that might. He had nervously checked out a few books from the girl section, like the "Babysitters Club" and "Nancy Drew." He didn't want to risk a confrontation, so from then on he would quickly check out a book or two and do his best to imitate a magician's assistant. He tried his best to disappear.

Given all of Harry's unexpected free time, he had actually managed to finish all of his summer homework assignments before the train ride back to school. During last year's train ride, after explaining that he hadn't been given access to his books all summer, Hermione, thank goodness, had made an exception to her strict no copying rule. After all, it hadn't been fair that Harry wasn't allowed his school books during summer break. But for whatever reason Vernon hadn't immediately confiscated Harry's trunk this summer. There was still an ironclad rule of no mentioning his freakishness while in the Dursley's house, but Harry was able to smuggle out his books during his afternoon escapes. He'd had to write his essays in muggle notebooks, but he figured his professors would accept the necessity considering he had been in public, more often than not, up in a tree at the park, when writing them. Truthfully, lined paper and an ink pen were way easier to use than parchment anyway. Not for the first time Harry shook his head in wonderment at the backwards traditions of the magical world.