His Father's Son

Chapter 1

Harry loved to tinker with things. He didn't know when exactly his passion had begun, or maybe he did. He just remembered fixing one of Dudley's toy cars with duct tape.  After that, he had gotten his hands on some glue and a toy soldier had received its head back.

The final deciding factor, however, was the programmable robot Dudley received for his fourth birthday.
His cousin had boasted about it for exactly five minutes until he had realized that the robot would have to be assembled first, and suddenly all interest in the gift had been lost.

For several days, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had tried to coax him into trying it out, to no avail. Eventually, they had dismissed it as a lost cause, and the robot had joined the other discarded toys in Dudley's second bedroom.

Harry, however, had been overjoyed and had spent many nights secretly building the robot. This had been his first real foray into tinkering - and he had loved it. It had been wonderful to see the little robot move about, and he had enjoyed programming its movements with the remote control.
Until he finally had tired of it.

He had wanted more. Something more challenging. He had felt limited, he always felt limited.

So, he started taking apart broken things and tried to put them back together. By no means did he always succeed. But every time he tried, he learned more.

Oh, and he loved learning. It was so elementary. He could not understand why Dudley struggled so badly every time his aunt attempted to teach his cousin how to read and count. After all, all he had to do was memorize the sounds and shapes. There was nothing difficult about that. Yet somehow Dudley never managed to remain attentive whenever Aunt Petunia brought out the educational videos. Just why was he not taking advantage of this golden opportunity? Harry would have loved to be in his position. He could do nothing but watch silently as he hid behind Uncle Vernon's armchair whenever the man wasn't at home.

Gradually, time passed, and finally Harry was enrolled in school.

Though he had been looking forward to it, reality turned out to be a disappointment.

Things were too simple.

The first half of the year flew by, and he completed his assignments in a matter of minutes. The teachers became aware of his abilities and approached his guardians.

They were not pleased to learn that he outperformed their son, yet they were too concerned about maintaining their image to deny him the opportunity to skip a grade.

Still, it was not challenging enough. Harry continued to excel until finally the school decided to sit him down to measure his abilities.

The results were staggering.

Or at least that was what the headmistress said as she looked at his disgruntled relatives. "Your nephew is a genius, Mr and Mrs Dursley. He is so far ahead of his peers that we are not qualified to teach him. I have reported his results to the Ministry of Education, and they have come to a decision. Harry will be given a place at the British Institute for Gifted Children and receive a full scholarship. All you have to do is sign here," the headmistress told his guardians, and slid a piece of paper across her desk.

His uncle signed the paper with a calculating glint in his eye. Aunt Petunia looked like she had just swallowed a sour lemon, but signed it anyway.

The headmistress took the signed document and put it away. "Congratulations, young man." She smiled at him.

Harry grinned. "Thank you, Mrs. Perkins."

And thus Harry Potter was admitted to the IGC.

Time passed and Harry flourished. Rather than following a strict schedule, the institute allowed children to study whatever subject appealed to them most, as long as they passed the mandatory exams.