The Boy Who Almost Got Killed

Welcome to "Harry Potter with Technology System," my fourth fanfiction. This work, already has around 100 drafts. I don't start publishing before having enough of them. It will be published on my Patreon alongside my fifth fanfiction, "Gamer System in Uchiha World." For my readers, there are tiered options available – you can choose to immerse yourself in either of these fantastical worlds separately, or delve into both for a more comprehensive experience. As always, all my novels are free to read. Patrons can read ahead, up to 25 chapters.

Important Warnings and Notes for Readers:

Manipulative Elements: This story contains manipulative themes and characters. These elements are essential to the plot and character development.

Altered Plot: Like all my fanfictions, the original plot of the Harry Potter series has been modified. Some alterations are mild, while others are more substantial, offering a fresh perspective on the familiar story.

Advanced Technology in a Magical World: The integration of a "Technology System" within the magical universe of Harry Potter is a significant deviation from the original series. It introduces a unique blend of magic and technology that may differ greatly from canon.

Character Development: Expect significant changes in character arcs and relationships. These alterations are in line with the story's direction and thematic requirements.

Emotional and Dark Themes: The narrative may explore complex emotional and occasionally dark themes that are integral to the story's depth and progression.

Creative Liberties: While staying true to the essence of the magical world, I have taken creative liberties to enhance the narrative and provide a unique reading experience.

Fan-Driven Content: This is a work of fan fiction, written for entertainment purposes. It respects the original creation but also ventures into new creative territories.

Reader Discretion Advised: Given the various elements and themes, reader discretion is advised. The story is crafted for a mature audience seeking an innovative twist to the beloved Harry Potter universe.

Age-Restricted Content: As the story progresses, there may be chapters with R-18 content. However, please note that such content will not appear at the beginning of the story, as Harry is still young. Scenes of a more mature nature, including 'lemon' scenes, will be appropriately introduced as the narrative and character ages evolve.

Incest: This fanfiction may explore taboo themes as part of its narrative. These elements are introduced to challenge traditional perspectives and add depth to the storyline. Such content will be handled with sensitivity and relevance to the overall plot development.

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In the small, ordinary town of Little Whinging, nestled behind a row of perfectly pruned privet hedges, lay number four, Privet Drive. Here, in this house of mundane routines and stringent order, lived a boy who was anything but ordinary. Harry Potter, a scrawny ten-year-old with jet-black hair perpetually askew and bright green eyes, was unlike anyone else in the house – or so he often felt.

On this particular day, Harry found himself on his knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor, while his Aunt Petunia, a woman with a delicate face and immense beauty, and a penchant for cleanliness, watched him like a hawk. His oversized, hand-me-down clothes, which had once belonged to his overweight cousin Dudley, hung loosely on his thin frame.

As he scrubbed, his mind wandered. Harry couldn't help but question why fate seemed so unusually cruel to him. He had never known his parents, James and Lily Potter, who had died in a car crash – or so he had been told. And ever since he could remember, he had lived with his aunt, uncle, and cousin, who treated him more like a servant than a family member.

Harry continued scrubbing, trying to block out the harsh world around him. But it wasn't long before his cousin Dudley, a boy with a face like a pig in a wig, came thundering down the stairs. Dudley, who took pleasure in tormenting Harry, began to circle around him like a shark. With each pass, he'd nudge, bump, or smack Harry, laughing uproariously at each jolt of pain he caused.

Uncle Vernon, a large man with a purple face and a bushy mustache, watched from his armchair in the corner of the room. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of disdain for Harry and delight in Dudley's antics. The disparity in treatment between Harry and his cousin was stark and painful.

As Harry tried to focus on his task, a sudden sharp jab from Dudley sent a jolt of pain through his arm, causing the sponge to slip from his grasp. It skittered across the freshly cleaned floor, leaving a trail of soapy water. Aunt Petunia, who had been overseeing the entire ordeal, shrieked at the sight of the mess.

"Dudley, enough!" she scolded, though her tone was more affectionate than angry. "Harry, pick up that sponge this instant and finish your chores!"

As Harry reached for the sponge, nursing the sore spot where Dudley had hit him, he felt a surge of bitterness and despair. Why did his life have to be so miserable? He longed for a change, for something – anything – that could break the monotony of his dreary existence at the Dursleys'.

Fate, indeed, often seemed more cruel than Harry could have ever imagined. As he reached for the sponge, Uncle Vernon's chair creaked ominously, signaling his rising anger. He got up, his face reddening with each step he took towards Aunt Petunia. "Don't you dare shout at my son for this useless trash of a nephew you've brought into our home!" he bellowed, his voice booming through the kitchen.

Aunt Petunia, taken aback by her husband's sudden outburst, seemed to shrink back, her delicate face contorting with a mix of fear and distress. "Vernon, I was only..." she started, but her voice trailed off into a whimper.

The air in the room grew thick with tension, the kind that precedes a storm. Dudley, sensing the shift in atmosphere, stopped his taunting and retreated to a safe distance. Harry, meanwhile, watched the scene unfold with a growing sense of dread. He had seen his uncle angry before, but never like this.

Vernon's eyes, now mere slits of rage, turned towards Harry. "This is your fault," he hissed. "Always causing trouble, always the problem!" Without warning, he seized Harry by the collar of his oversized shirt, lifting him off the ground. Harry gasped for breath, his feet kicking at the air, as Vernon dragged him out of the kitchen.

Aunt Petunia's cries echoed behind them, her sobs growing fainter as they moved further away. She ran to her room, the door slamming shut with a resounding thud. In the hallway, Vernon's grip tightened, his fingers digging into Harry's skin.

"You've upset your aunt," Vernon growled, his face inches from Harry's. "You ungrateful little wretch." With a force born of pure fury, he flung Harry into the small cupboard under the stairs, his so-called bedroom.

Harry's body hit the hard floor with a painful thud, the impact jarring his bones. The world spun around him, a whirl of shadows and muffled sounds. Pain radiated through his body, and his vision blurred. As he tried to push himself up, darkness crept into the edges of his consciousness, pulling him under. The last thing he heard before succumbing to the void was the sound of the cupboard door slamming shut, sealing him in darkness.

Harry woke up several hours later, completely surrounded by darkness. His body ached from the rough treatment he'd received from his uncle. Confused and disoriented, he tried to find the gas lamp he used for light in these pitch-black confines. As he fumbled in the darkness, something extraordinary happened. A panel of light appeared in front of him, its soft glow illuminating the cramped space. The words "Technology System is initiated" floated on the display, their presence both bewildering and fascinating.

Harry blinked, thinking he must be dreaming or perhaps had hit his head harder than he realized. He could see the text clearly in the complete darkness of the cupboard, an impossibility under normal circumstances. Then, to his utter astonishment, a voice spoke directly into his mind. It was old yet kind, with a distinct British accent that somehow felt familiar and comforting.

"Hello Master, I am Nigel, your assistant to use the Technology System to its fullest."

Harry's heart raced. He had never experienced anything like this. It was as if the voice was inside his head, yet it didn't feel invasive or threatening. Instead, there was an air of sophistication and wisdom about it.

"Who... who are you?" Harry whispered, his voice barely audible in the small space.

"I am Nigel, an AI integrated into the Technology System now activated within you. My purpose is to assist you in various capacities, be it through analyzing magical elements or providing emotional support. Think of me as your guide in this newfound journey," Nigel explained, his tone conveying a mix of formality and warmth.

Harry's mind raced with questions. How did this system get inside him? What did it mean for his life at the Dursleys', or even more broadly, for his existence in a world that had so far shown him little kindness? He had always felt different, but this was beyond anything he could have imagined.

Nigel seemed to sense Harry's confusion and apprehension. "Do not be alarmed, Master Harry. I am here to help you navigate through this. Together, we shall uncover the full extent of this system's capabilities."

Harry, still struggling to grasp the reality of the situation, asked, "But why me? And what can this system do?"

"The 'why' is something we will discover together. As for its capabilities, they are extensive. From spell analysis to potion composition, even accessing a vast digital library and recording memories. This system is designed to enhance your abilities and provide you with knowledge and tools previously beyond reach."

"S-spell?" Harry stuttered, his voice quivering in the darkness. "W-what do you mean by spell?"

Nigel's voice, calm and composed, resonated in Harry's mind. "Master Harry, you are a wizard. The world you've known is but a fraction of reality. There exists a magical realm parallel to the one you've grown up in, teeming with enchantment and wonder."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. A wizard? The idea seemed ludicrous, yet there was an undeniable truth in Nigel's words, a resonance that touched something deep within him.

"But how?" Harry whispered, struggling to comprehend this revelation. "I mean, wizards, magic... they're just fairy tales, aren't they?"

Nigel's chuckle was a soft ripple in the sea of Harry's confusion. "Ah, Master Harry, the world is far more mysterious and magical than you've been led to believe. Your parents were part of this magical world, skilled and respected wizards in their own right. It's in your blood, your heritage."

The words struck Harry like a lightning bolt. His parents – wizards? It was a lot to take in, especially given the stark, magic-less life he'd led so far.

Nigel continued, his tone patient and informative. "As for spells, they are but one aspect of the magical arts. With your inherent magical abilities and the assistance of the Technology System, you'll be able to learn and cast spells, brew potions, and much more. The system will also provide real-time analysis of magical elements, something quite unprecedented."

Harry felt a surge of excitement mixed with trepidation. Magic... it was a concept so foreign, yet it offered a glimpse of a life far removed from the misery of the Dursleys'.

"And you, Nigel, you're a part of this system?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Indeed, Master Harry. I am an AI assistant, programmed to guide and support you. My capabilities range from providing you with knowledge on both magical and non-magical subjects to offering emotional support and guidance. I am, in essence, your ally in this new chapter of your life."

Harry's mind whirled with possibilities. An ally, something he had longed for in his loneliest moments. Nigel, despite being an AI, seemed to offer a sense of companionship and understanding that Harry had never experienced.

"Then, Nigel," Harry said, a newfound determination in his voice, "let's start this journey together. Show me what I need to know. Teach me about this magical world and my place in it."

"Very well, Master Harry," Nigel replied, his tone reflecting both the gravity and the excitement of the moment. "Our adventure begins now. And fear not, I shall be with you every step of the way, imparting wisdom and perhaps a bit of dry humor to lighten our path."

As Harry listened, the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs seemed a little less oppressive, the future a bit brighter.