Harry Potter 1. prologue: Sunset

Prologue. Power of the Sunset.

Disclaimer: I own harry potter… wait J.K rowling has a penis?… HOLY CRAP… wait no I only dress up in women's clothes to pretend I am J.K so I can own harry… wait stupid me.

AN: this is like prologue so the actual chapters will have a lot dialogue and less scene description and more from harry's head so I will be in like normal pov.

Sunset. there are many features about a sunset, many think it is romantic setting, others calming but almost everyone agrees it is one of the more beautiful sites that a man can see, and he can see it daily, but would never tire of it because they are always different. One boy a very young boy about the age of seven, always liked the sunset, moving over the horizon escaping from this part of the world, the boy was envious of the sun, of the simple principle of freedom, freedom of movement freedom of life and freedom of the soul. This boy, Harry James Potter, did not have any of these freedoms and was envious of the sun because of all its freedoms, and all its power, the unsurpassable power to light up the whole globe from millions of miles away. Harry wished he could have that power...or any power.

But alas living with the Dursley family took away all the power he had or could ever have. He was completely powerless and nothing scared him more than this lack of power. How he wished he could have complete control and power over at least one part of his life, any part, just one piece that could be his haven away from everything. One last piece of hope that when he finally escaped instead of falling in upon himself, as unlikely as that seems due to the circumstances of his living, he would bounce back and know the taste of freedom and be somewhat prepared for it.

He seemed to be completely self dependent but he knew different, he knew absolutely nothing about the real world, yes he was one of the smartest, and brightest children in school, but he learnt his lesson of showing his true colors when his report gave grades much higher than his cousin, Dudley. That left him for another week without food and only one glass of water a day but somehow he managed, exiting his cupboard under the stairs looking the same just a little be more careworn and dirty. Things like this also puzzled poor Harry, for although he would deliberately do bad on his tests to make Dudley look good he knew that someone could not go without food for several days, especially a child, a malnourished child at that.

But here he was now, watching the sunset, escaping over the horizon to a new land where it would be greatly appreciated and welcome, so very unlike Harry. Watching the sunset usually calmed Harry, but not tonight, no tonight he was afraid. At that very moment Harry was several tree limbs up in a very old and ancient looking tree, it had a whole magnitude of whorls and knots within the wood, and it felt oddly comfortable within its limbs. But fear of what to come outweighed what ever comfort the tree gave Harry.

For you see, Harry was no where near home, well the Dursley's home, at the moment and that was because the very same Dursley's thought it would be ever so wonderful to go camping, or more specifically talking about all the camping adventures they _could _have and safely living them out in the safe warm and cozy rented cabin, where all Harry had was a half empty wood bin along the side of the cabin. The woodbin was not too bad it was roomier than his cupboard and he had layered enough old bark, sawdust, woodchips and shavings into a decent and dary bed.

If that was the case why, you may ask is he indeed stuck high up in the tree. Why Dudley of course, and his gang of merry little _dumplings_. One of Dudley's favorite games was one that his gang made up, _Harry Hunting._ Such a lovely game _Harry Hunting _is, just fantastic, lots of running joyful screams, not so joyful ones, the flush of the chase, the pride of catching your prey, and the relief of avoiding the hunters. This Is what he was doing at the moment, avoiding the hunters. Although they gave many an hour ago when they realized they just weren't agile enough to climb the tree to get to Harry. But Harry knew as soon as he got back to the Cabin, Dudley and two of his little play pals would soon again take up the chase.

Harry was too tired and sore though now to go back, not only would he have to face Dudley but his Aunt and Uncle too, and they could be so much more hurtful than Dudley ever could. His uncle Vernon was much stronger than Dudley,alot crueler and was not so easily distracted, he was a lot more focused when he went to punishing him, either with his belt, or a table tennis bat that he found in the garage when Harry first cleaned it. Vernon had kept it as a trophy to psychological torture Harry. He was so proud when he finished cleaning the garage and his achievement was being used to beat him. It was perhaps one of the most humiliating things on earth, and his uncle knew that.

His aunt Petunia though, she was a master of crushing his mind. All he ever wanted was to be loved, and his aunt took great pleasure exploiting that fact. Her favorite feat was when his uncle would be particularly harsh to him, his aunt would come into his room at night a clean the wounds with a tender care of someone who loved him. This was all a farce when he had relaxed and all the wounds were clean she would pull out a small spray bottle filled with salt water. Petunia would then calmly spray all his wounds with the salt water with a small coy smile upon her faced while he screamed out his pain. The physical pain Harry could handle, put the process in which it happened was worse, a loving touch, followed by pain, lots and lots of pain. He feared it would scar him for the rest of his life, never being able to touch anyone, or be touched by anyone without fear of pain. He _hated _his family.

Harry harshly grasped the tree just thinking about his family, but he suddenly yelped and clutch his hand. Looking to the side he saw a stick bug like creature staring at him with harsh, razor sharp, bloodstained claws. Harry looked down at his hand and saw a fairly shallow but long cut on the back of his hand. Harry knew from experience that shallow cuts bleed a lot, hurt a lot, but overall did no lasting damage to him.

Leaving his hand to bleed out, he looked back at the creature to find it gone from his view. It was strange, as harry had no friends at school, again thanks to Dudley he spent his time in the small library reading what ever informative books he could find, and never had he heard of a stick bug that had razor like claws, and living in England, where The majority live in rainforests and the jungle. He pasted it off though as the many strange things that happened in his life, like talking garden snakes, spiders doing as he said within his cupboard, suddenly appearing on the school roof, and of course growing his hair back all in one night. All of these things gave testament to the fact that he was a freak, just like his _family _says he is.

With frustrated tears, stinging his eyes he grips the tree tighter preparing for a cold night in the tree. With the sun finally over the horizon, Harry didn't want to risk finding his way back to the camp in the dark and was scared of getting lost, and the tree was just so comfortable, it seemed so warm, almost like it was giving off some sort of calming energy. Harry closed his eyes and struggled to stay awake unsure why, it was just like he knew something was going to happen. Snapping his eyes open and jerking up straight he looked down and saw more of the stick bug like figures, three in total clawing into the tree almost like they were carving something out of it.

He could feel it now that he was fully awake, the tree was exuding a powerful energy, it was pulsing with it and it seemed to originate from where the stick bugs where carving into the tree. Harry was concentrating on the pulsing energy, to determine what it was, and he could feel his senses drifting, and he could feel the energy drifting within himself, swirling into his body to his centre, his core, to the place where it itched when ever something weird happened. He could feel more strands of energy now, coming from many things, the trees around the one he was sitting in, a whole manner of bugs and birds, he could feel everyone of them, the sparrow swooping down on a small caterpillar and devouring it, the baby chick eating from its mother, and the slates eating away at the leaf liter on the ground. He could feel all the organisms giving off energy and he could feel himself gathering it in. he could feel the energy leaving him now, flowing back into the place where the small but powerful bugs were carving out something from the tree. Harry reached down to what the bugs carved out, feeling as if it _belonged _to him, as it was part of himself, but before he could grasp it one of the bugs slashed at his open palm, splattering blood along the side of the tree and all along the carving.

The carving, an almost foot long piece of wood, fairly sleek, and it seemed somewhat bendy, for wood, gave a great flash and seemed to absorb the blood that was splattered upon it and darkened in color from a reddish brown, to emphasized the red streaks and grains within the wood. He looked down and the stick bugs and saw that they were scurrying away. He deemed it safe now to grasp the foot long stick around the thicker end which had been carved it a handle somewhat, and pulled in out the side of the tree. As it left the tree Harry could feel the flow of energy change, directing all of the strands through his new stick, and back into him filling him with new energy. The flow was getting stronger and stronger until it reached a peak where the air around him seemed to glow, the wind flowed violently around him, the clouds above broke sending down waves of rain from the heavens, lightning streaking through the sky thrusting down into the middle of the small forest striking a very ancient looking tree, with a small boy holding a stick to the level of his eye with the violent winds whipping his hair around his face, the rain plastering his clothes to his body and the animals are around him keening in praise at the power the small boy was absorbing. But that one fierce lightning bolt, striking the stick like a lightning rod, and flowing through the boys body, frying the water in his clothes making steam shoot from his body and hair, and launching the boy from his perch in the ancient looking tree.

Harry had one last thought before the black abyss of unconsciousness claimed him. One thought he deemed worthy to be vocalized.

"Whoa!" after it croaked out of his mouth his eyes slid shut despite his protest and a deep sleep claimed him while his body went to work putting all that absorbed energy to good use.


	2. His Stick Sticks?

AN: one of the most annoying things I find in these types of stories where harry gets powers before he is 11 is that he is so effing accepting. I am also looking for a beta… anyone… just get to read it before everyone else I don't make too many mistakes so it wont be too bad a job…

Chapter 1. His Stick?

Harry groaned as the unusually harsh sunlight hit his eyelids waking him as usual at the break of dawn. But today was different, the light was brighter, harsher and it felt as if it had more heat than usual. Harry's first thought was that he woke later than usual and it was already into late morning with the sun full into the sky, but when he dared crack open one eyes he saw only about a quarter of the sun had broken the horizon.

"Huh?" the small exclamation grumbled out of Harry's mouth. "That's… unusual."

With a groan, that was all to do with the mentality that he did not want to get up, he pushed up from the ground in a classic push-up position, and noticed this movement didn't have the normal feeling of weakness, and struggle that he usually had when he pushed himself up in the morning. Looking around quickly he saw that he was still on the forest floor with leaf liter, all through his clothes. He looked behind him and saw what he was hoping for, but what he feared as well.

Scrambling up to his feet he spun around to look at the scorched and split, ancient tree that he inhabited last night. He thought it was all a dream but there was the proof… some proof. The stick he was holding was gone. He could only conclude it must have shattered when the lightning hit… or his mind was just scrambled into hallucinating all of it because of the lightning strike. That seemed the most obvious answer. But as harry finished justifying his answer in his mind he saw it, one of those little stick bugs, next to an almost foot long piece of springy wood.

"Shit!" Harry exclaimed whilst drawing out the S, he reached up to cradle his head in his hands, but as he bought up his right hand, there were bloodstains on it, but no cuts. they were gone. With a pained groan Harry dropped to the fall and put his head between his knees and started breathing heavily.

Sitting there for a indeterminate amount of time Harry looked up only to be startled and begun crawling away from the small stick figure which had dragged the stick along with and… stood for a lack of a better word, in front of Harry and gestured to the stick and pushed it forward to Harry.

"Okay… crazy stick bugs carving out a stick from a tree, make me bleed all over it, and then lightning. HA! The Dursley have finally cracked me!" Harry mumbled to himself in a dejected tone, somehow knowing there was nothing wrong, just something different. It felt… right, like something that had been missing was suddenly there, but he had no clue to what it was.

A grating sound brought him back from his mind to see the stick bug clawing gently on his old wrist watch, as not to brake it but get his attention. As soon as it saw Harry pay attention it hopped and skipped off, leaving the stick at Harry's feet. It was there that Harry got a much better look at it. The Wood, although looking brown, and a much more distinctly grey color to it, with crimson, blood red streaks running along the grain of the wood going through the whole length of the wood. The tip, where he presumed the lightning struck, instead of being scorched as he expected it was a bright yellow, almost white, and he had a feeling it was the exact same shade as the lightning as which struck it. From the tip to about half way down the stick there were the bright yellow streaks, but as it went further down it faded into the wood.

Reaching over Harry picked up the stick by the larger end, noticing when it was in his hand it fit perfectly like there was a custom made grip to it. Looking down he could see there was indeed a handle but carved into the wood just so it would flow into the rest of it without much pause. All in all it looked like and master piece of art.

Like instinct Harry, pointed the wand so it was at the same angle as his arm, and saw two small holes there. Bring it up to his eye with one hand he reached up with his other and moved it around his face as if to adjust a pair of glasses that were not there.

Forgetting all about the two small holes at the bottom of the stick he frantically jumped to his feet and started looking around. Not looking for something, just seeing things.

"Holy Christ!" Harry said in a breathless and awed voice. For you see not even twenty four hours ago, if Harry was without his glasses he could put his hand ten centimeters in front of his face and not see it clearly. Now he was seeing everything better than he ever has before, picking up the fine detail of every leaf, on every tree, it was amazing.

Harry started laughing, one of those full hearty, full belly laughs, a laugh that is used when all tension has disappeared in a moment to something inane, yet it lacks that hysterical quality to it. And laugh Harry did, for hours it seemed, but it was only for one breath. He put his hands on his knees then, his right still clutching the stick and saw his discarded glasses not to far away. Walking over to them he contemplated breaking them, put he knew he would be punished more for that. So instead he picked them up, then with unnatural strength pushed the lenses out and placed them back on the bridge of his nose.

Looking back over at the burnt and split tree, he saw even more of the strange and agile stick figures carving out the centre of the tree, making the vey core ring of the tree into a smooth, seemingly well polished six foot long stick, which could only described as a staff. But if that was true, that could only make that stick in his had a what? A Wand? It was just such… a feminine prospect. If there was such a thing, why would a man have a wand, or at least call it a wand, it sounds like something a fairy or a fairy godmother would use.

Although Harry liked to read mainly informative books, this did not mean he read the odd fantasy book, and some of his favorite was about the ancient and powerful wizard Merlin. If this _Wand _was indeed a wand, he would have to rename it to something more… manly. But again, he could be hallucinating; he did sleep outside for the night, in a tree, during a rainstorm, on an autumn night, in Britain. He concluded that considering the facts at the moment, he was probably having fever dreams. But at least in this fever dream something cool is happening. Harry Potter had gotten himself a Magical Foci.

Looking down at his new foci, Harry looked back at the staff in the middle of the burnt out husk on the ancient tree and picked it up, and gave it a whirl.

"Most definitely a fever dream there is no way I could be this coordinated with a staff if just picked it up without it being a fever dream." Said Harry to himself, as he spun the staff around his body in a figure of eight using both hands before twirling in his right hand. Looking at it, the wood had the same grey brown color but this had far less red streaks, and they were a more earthy color in nature, and not anything like the blood read streaks in his foci. The staff was completely symmetrical, about six foot long, and about two finger joints in width, it thickens near both ends, the ends though curved inwards to make in concave.

Just like his foci his staff had two holes, but at both ends, and taking a closer look at both he could see that they spiraled around each other and he could guess they went the whole length of each implement, stopping just short of the other endin his foci though. He had no idea as to what these holes were but he could sense that they have a very important role in his foci and staff. Looking at his staff, then to his foci he was wondering if he should put some of his blood on the staff, but decided against that thinking that if it wanted the blood he was sure the stick figures would be nice enough to slice open his arm so the blood would spill over it.

"Not bitter at all are we Harry" Harry said to himself in a somewhat bitter but breathless voice.

Looking up at the sky he could see there were some clouds retreating over to the north with the wind and the sun was just coming over the horizon. Harry stood there for a moment watching the last bit of it slip above the horizon before starting to move back to the cabins.

"Well let's see what we can do so that the dream Dursley's doesn't see either of these" Harry stated to himself. Looking at his foci, he frowned at the thought of his _family _and gasped and jumped back in shock swearing that a burst of… lightning, a small burst jumped out of the end of his wand. Laughing hard he wheezed a bit saying to himself in a reassuring way

"Ha! I am in a dream, of course its lightning! Meet Harry Potter the boy wonder who can wield the storm!" his laughing took on a distinctive hysterical quality to it near the end, and he had to stop walking as he risked falling and hurting himself.

Stop suddenly with only a puff or two to regain his breath Harry sat on the leaf litter and calmed himself, as his blood started to cool, and his heart rate slowed, his mind slowed a little and that's when he noticed it. He could still feel everything, all the energy flowing through all the living things there, and then looking down at his two foci, he saw that they glowed with energy brighter than anything else around him. Groaning and gasping at the same time Harry flopped his head down to think, but on the way down his head hit the staff.

Only one thought went through his head before he passed out, two maybe. _Damn how hard is that staff! _Was his active thought, but beneath this it was a dread that he knew this probably was a dream, and when he woke up that small measure of power he had would be taken away forever.

* * *

Waking up for the second time in one day to a blinding light shining into his eyes, Harry could not help but groan out "not again!" 

Grumbling to himself as he got up, he noticed that he felt more rested than he had ever had before, he felt stronger as well, healthier. Harry put this down to sleeping well past the time he usually woke and spending the night away from the Dursley's, he knew that would do wonders for his mental health. Looking up in the sky he noticed that the sun had clear the horizon by a decent amount, and he guessed it was close to eleven in the morning.

Stretching his back and arms he prepared to head off when he took stock of his surroundings. Trees, lots of them, makes sense he was in a forest, no lightning struck tree about… "Pity it was a good dream, but a dream is a dream" Harry said clearly into the air, in an effort to comfort himself. Sighing he took two steps before he froze; it was almost like he had been snap frozen. There on the tree directly in front of him, was a grayish staff, propped up against a tree with a red, grey and yellow wand at the base of the staff where it touched the ground.

"What the…" Harry said in a breathless voice. Thinking about it Harry thought it must be a pretty bad fever he had or it was true, and he suddenly got himself two magical foci, a _wand _and a Staff. "Can't be not true… oh man." Closing his eyes as he said this he started up a mantra of "Not true, can't be there" in his mind he saw the tree but without staff and wand near it. Harry subconsciously felt a swell of energy and open his eyes.

"Phew… knew it couldn't be true." Harry sound relieved but he was very disappointed as well, he _knew _it could not be true, magic just was not real. But he really longed for that power, earned for it. With this earning he begun to think of the staff and the wand, he was still staring at the tree, but this time he felt the swell of energy from his surroundings.

With a small 'pop' and a high pitched shriek, staff and wand were once again at the foot of the tree. "Holy… NO!" Harry was backing away from the tree with the staff and wand at its feet, when he fell backwards tripping over a root hidden in the leaf litter. Jumping back to his feet he started to run… away from the tree.

"no, NO! it can't be real! MAGIC! No it can't be. AHHH!" with this last shout he suddenly stopped and kicked at the base of a large tree. "OW" grabbing at his foot he fell to floor once again. Grumbling under his breath about uppity trees, and bad shoes, his mind wondered back to the staff and wand. What if magic was real? No, it can not be true, I mean it couldn't be. Seeing the staff and wand in his minds eye again, suddenly the was a 'pop' in the air breaking his grumbling and another shriek followed the appearance of the staff and wand.

"What! What do you want from me!" with scarcely an effort Harry was once again on his feet running from the staff and wand, casting backwards glances towards where he thought they were. He was running faster than he ever had before, and he learned to never take his eyes off of where he was running when he suddenly stopped abruptly with a muffled 'oompf' as the air left his lungs and thump as his body hit the ground.

Gasping for breath Harry managed to eject out a few words " stupid…Trees!... in my… WAY!" not even caring that he was babbling he started to shout in his mind. No what the hell is happening. This is so stupid. There is not such thing as magic. Fever dream, yeah that's it. AHHH! Why does this always happen to me, I am a normal boy. I am not a FREAK. "AHHHH! Wake UP!" shouted Harry as he started to hit himself in the head fully intending to wake himself up from his fever dream.

Harry did not even get to hit himself a second time, as he fell from his kneeling position, back to lying on the ground groaning. Harry knew he was weak, there was no way he could hit himself hard enough to do that much damage. But looking up at his right hand, the one he punched himself with he saw fresh blood on his knuckles, reaching up with his left hand he touch the place where he hit and winced. Bringing his hand back to his eyes he saw that they were blood stained.

Letting his arms flop back to the ground he started to breath deeper, fully intending on following what his body said. He was hurt, he was dizzy, and he was a bit numb, he needed to sleep. Closing his eyes, he heard a muffled voice. As it got louder he could start to make out some of the words

"Dudley this way… heard… shouting… cousin" Harry recognized that voice. Piers one of Dudley's friends, it seemed that they indeed started up another round of Harry Hunting. He could hear them now, a crashing in the woods, they were getting closer and they made no effort to be quiet. If Harry could have gotten up he would have run, but his arms, and muscles just would not work, they were just too weak.

"There he is! Let's get Him!" shouted Dudley as he run towards me, not even slowing as he reached me, he drew back his leg and kicked me in the ribs using the momentum of his run to add strength to it.

"Dudley. Duds. STOP! Look at his head, its bleeding. We have to go man, we could get into trouble" Piers said in a shaky voice as he grappled with Dudley's shoulders. Dudley seeing what Piers was talked about looked at Harry's head and started to panic.

"Oh man, we have to get out of here. Man its looks like he going to die!" Dudley's other friends did not even stay with them as soon and he saw Harry's head , he just bolted back to the cabin, leaving Piers and Dudley shocked for a moment before they too run.

Oh well, it seems it's the same old Dudley even in my fever dream. This was the last coherent thought Harry could get out before he blacked out from punching himself in the head.

AN: what u think... i thought it was good, but hey u might not... i think that harry fully freaking out is much better than him just accepting that is true, i mean come on who the hell would just accept shit like that without some real quality proof? and also when they can just explain it away... u might think fever dream what a stupid excuse. but harry still wants to be accepted by the dursley, even if he does hate them he is a litttle boy earning for love and he is trying despretly to get it from anyone, and if that means being the imbodiment of normal so the dursley will accept him he will try everything so he is that.

anyhow i am looking for a beta to just check out my work to do up mistakes and so forth, much easier for a non-author to be objecive and clean up the mistakes than the person who wrote it so sorry if there are some gramitcal errors still in there.

ciao, might be another couple of days before another chapter comes out, so stay tuned


	3. I am Normal

Chapter 2: I Am Normal!

AN: I like Cheese!

I could feel myself stirring, and yet again I could feel the harsh light burning into my eyelids. This light, however, seemed different; it held less energy and felt…well, the only word that comes to mind is artificial. Cracking one eye open, the reason why came to me quickly as I found myself looking up at a bright white ceiling decorated with sterile fluorescent lighting. Strangely, I did not notice I was in a bed at first; however, now that I knew I was, I released the tension from my muscles and burrowed deeper into the mattress below me, which was much softer than the one in my cupboard by any stretch.

Looking around, I saw Aunt Petunia talking to someone whom I assumed to be the nurse at the administration desk. I was not surprised by the worried look Aunt Petunia was displaying for I knew it was all just an act. After all, it would not be good if word were to get around that the Dursleys held anything but _love _in their hearts for their nephew. No, that would cause a scandal, and while Aunt Petunia did love juicy bits of gossip, she very much preferred them to involve someone other than herself, of course.

When she saw that I had awoken Aunt Petunia grimaced, for now she knew that she had to interact with me and put on the false display of a loving, caring guardian. She figured that if she was not there when I awoke that I might beg leave from the nurse, and I would no longer be a concern of her or her family. Unfortunately, now that they both saw that I had indeed risen from my unconsciousness, she knew that she had to _love _me, no matter how distasteful that may be.

For me, the whole situation was disgusting and insulting; basically, I hated when these types of situations arose. I was reminded of when something like this had happened once before. Aunt Petunia had been called in to school because, quite simply, Dudley had broken my nose. I was mystified when she fussed over me, almost as though she cared about my welfare. All that was cleared up when I got home, however; it was…_explained_ to me that it was _my _fault that my nose was broken, as though I brought Dudley's fist up and _face butted_ it just so I could have the rest of the day off from school. I received several sharp smacks to the nose from her wooden spoon, and then was sent to my cupboard to _think_ about what I had done.

All that, however, was nothing compared to what happened when Dudley and Vernon got home. The trouble started when Dudley began complaining that my _fist hurt_. Upon hearing this news, Uncle Vernon, in true Uncle Vernon fashion, proceeded to break my nose even more with my own fists, to teach me a lesson, I suppose. The only good thing that came of this is that at least when he broke it, it returned to being straight, and my sinuses cleared out in the process. There was now only a small bump where the two breaks had been, showing the only evidence that my nose had ever been broken in the first place.

Breaking from my reverie, I saw Aunt Petunia coming over in a hurried fashion, sniffling quietly as if she was close to tears; it was yet another horrible blow to my psyche; a reminder to never let anyone love me because, of course, love wasn't real, but just a false image.

"OH, MY BABY!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" she wailed, completely over the top, obviously faking the emotion. Just like with the school, however, the nurse did not pick up on this, as her mind was clouded by the _loving_ image before her. She had a great deal of sympathy in her eyes, and was most likely thinking something along the lines of, 'This poor woman, who found out that her nephew was seriously hurt! Ah, but all's well, she knows now that he is going to be alright. Aww, how lovely.' How lovely indeed.

"I'm fine Aunty, really," I said in my best loving and embarrassed voice. Though the temptation was great to show my Aunt for the fraud she was, I knew that if I did not play along, I would be punished even more than I was already sure to be. After all, I had already caused my _loving family_ the expense of a nurse, along with ruining the rest of _their_ holiday. Sometimes, I've learned, it's best not to dig myself in any deeper than I already am.

"Oh my poor baby, lets get you back to the cabin so you can rest in your own bed, okay Honey?" Aunt Petunia was really putting on a show, using that sickly sweet voice way to much. I really must admit though, she did look like a hysterical mother caring for her child. I, however, could see the malice in her eyes, previewing the pain that awaited me when I got back to the cabin.

"Just one more thing before you two leave," said the nurse in a cheerful tone, happy that wewere together and _oh-so-__happy. _"Here you are Mrs. Dursley; these are pain killers for young Harry here. They ought to help him with any pain he will be experiencing over the next few days."

"Thank you so much, I'll make sure I give them to him when he starts to hurt. Thank you again for taking care of him." With that, not even waiting for the nurse to reply, Aunt Petunia pulled me out of bed in the most motherly way she could manage, and then hurried me out of the nurse's office. The trip back to the cabin was a silent one, but I could now openly see Aunt Petunia's anger, and I feared what was to come from Uncle Vernon upon arrival.

As soon as we were safely inside the cabin, Aunt Petunia shoved me to the center of the room and turned me away from the awful stares of Uncle Vernon and Dudley while asking, "Which side of your head did you hit you stupid, stupid boy?" in a chillingly calm voice.

Through my incredible fear of what was to come, I could not help but stutter out my answer. "M-My r-r-right side, M-Ma'am." Finally having spat out a response, I snapped my mouth such tightly and turned my gaze to the floor around my feet, not wanting to see what was coming. For a few tantalizing moments nothing happened, allowing my foolish mind to begin to think that maybe I would be left alone. This was not to be, however, as my Uncle's swinging, club-like fist struck me on the right side of my head from behind, a few centimeters away from where the injury was located.

Flung to the floor, I let out a startled yelp of pain. Knowing that more punishment was to come, I quickly began shutting down my mind, dulling myself to the painful sensations I would soon start to feel. After years of habitual beatings, I gained this ability by necessity, and it allowed me to lessen the painful feeling somewhat. Unfortunately, this detachment from my senses forced me to lower my resistance to their attacks, leaving me even more open to their brutality; overall, though, I knew it was worth it.

"Get up, Boy!" yelled Uncle Vernon, whilst yanking me to my feet by the hair on the right side of my head. "What do you think people will say now, you freak!" He punctuated the word freak by cuffing me again on the right side of the head, this time nailing my injury perfectly. "What will they say, eh? Can't even protect our nephew from serious injury! People will start asking questions about you now! WHAT WILL THEY SAY NOW, BOY!" he bellowed. During the rant, he hit me sharply with each point he made, as though he was attempting to drive my point home through pain. I could feel my injury throbbing now, and knew that it was getting worse as my violence continued.

Finally, I fell in a heap to the floor, seemingly losing all my muscular strength. Though my thoughts were becoming more and more dazed, I still well aware of what was happening to me; indeed, the stark reality of Uncle Vernon's _lesson_ served as a very efficient reminder. Inside my mind however, detached from the pain, I could feel all the energy around me, from Uncle Vernon's rage, to Aunt Petunia's suppressed joy at witnessing the beating being received by the foul spawn of her no-good sister. I could even sense Dudley and my two friends crouching outside under an open window, listening in on my punishment. Dudley's energy spoke of glee, while the other two's seemed more of curiosity, hinted with the sense of relief that they were, thankfully, in the clear.

Indeed, though I was outwardly becoming less and less conscious, I could still feel all the energy around me. I could feel the location of every last living creature within that cabin, no matter how small or insignificant, even including all the insects. For example, I knew that there were ants on the right wall scouting for food, and that there was a spider on the ceiling waiting in its ever-patient vigil for the fly that was not-to-far away to fall into its trap. Though I could not see these things, somehow, I just knew them to be so.

So dazed was I that I did not even notice when I was thrown roughly back into the wood bin. Not until the lid was shut and all the light was cut from my vision did I venture forth from my mental hiding place, acknowledging the sensations coming from my badly beaten body. Suddenly, a sharp gasp, followed by a pain laced groan, filled the silence of the wood bin as my hands hurried to cradle my head. Uncle Vernon must have hit me extremely hard this time, for I could now feel the slick blood slowly flowing from my wound. Not knowing what else to do, I quickly took off my shirt and tied it around my head to dampen the open flow of blood before I suffered too much loss.

I was really starting to dislike this camping trip. So far, the only sleep I was able to enjoy came when I managed to lose conscious, and judging by my current state, it looked like that would not be changing any time soon. My body had felt awful since hitting my head in the forest, and my mind was reeling.

Through the haze, however, I could still feel the energy of my surroundings. Somehow, I have this power, somehow now I could still feel so much around me, from the moss inside the bin growing on the old wood, to a whole manner of insects and insects, scurrying here and there, going about their usual business within the walls of the bin. Thinking through the past few hours, I came to the conclusion that this…'energy sensing', or whatever it is, started when I climbed up in that tree. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Granted, strange things had happened before, but nothing like this.

Gathering my courage, I decided to give in to this feeling, to test the power of these sensations, and opened my senses fully to the energy around me. My head started to spin, making me feel even more disoriented than when it had been hit. I felt like I was spinning out of control. I leaned on my side and violently vomited up all the contents of my stomach, which unfortunately totaled little more than stomach acid. This being the case, I was reduced to dry heaving for the duration of this episode.

As the dry heaves started to subside, my mind began to shut down of its own volition, dampening the feel of everything around me, involuntarily protecting my body from causing itself more harm. Desperately I clung to that sensation, that feeling of everything around me. So incredible was the feeling of power within me that, even though I feared it so, I never wanted to lose it.

As my feeling of self control slowly returned, my mind wandered to the staff and wand from the tree the night before. I felt that they were an important part of what was happening to me somehow, but I also knew I had lost them and would never be able to get them back. This was not the first time I had suffered head injuries, and I knew I would not be able to move properly for a couple of days. I also knew that the Dursleys would not let me out of their sites now.

Finally, I sighed in resignation; I would never get them back now. In an effort to get my mind off of the staff and wand, I once again concentrated on all of the energy around me, remembering that on the night in the tree the energy seemed to flow into me. With that thought I breathed in hard, attempting to concentrate on all the energy flowing into me, willing myself to use it as my own. Unfortunately, in my mind the staff and wand still stood clearly, blocking my ability to focus properly. I knew I was near to passing out, my eyes drooping, my concentration slowly fading; because of this, the small 'pop' that resonated off the walls of the bin did nothing more than startle me a bit, causing me to snorting in a breath, disturbing my breathing pattern and making me open my eyes. Seeing nothing in the darkness, however, my eyes closed once again, my mind processing nothing as I drifted off into sleep for the fourth time that day.

The first thing that I noticed as I woke from my slumber was the total lack of feeling I was experiencing, from the loss of pain in my head and ribs, to the loss of my 'energy sensing' ability to my surroundings. Also, I was feeling a whole range of emotions spanning from confusion, disappointment, resentment, anger and fear. I felt confused by the fact that I could not feel the surroundings around me; it was incredibly frustrating, as I had just managed to accept this…power as my own, then seemed to lose it shortly afterwards. However, I was in no way confused as to how I had no feeling in my head and ribs; they were Vernon's two favorite places to hit me, after all. I was just grateful that they were numb for now, even though I knew that this only promised pain in the days to come.

I was beginning to resent the power now that it seemed to have left me. How could it tease me so? I hungered for it now, though I was still strangely scared of it. So much was promised, so much that I had never had. My entire night had been filled with dreams of all the things I could do with such a great gift. One dream that stood out to me was quite frightening, for if it was true…

_I was in the woodbin, lying down on my left side so the cut on the right side of my head would not have any pressure on it. Curled up into myself and clutching my ribs, one might have simply thought I was cuddling myself for warmth during the cold night, however, that was not the case. Actually, I was putting pressure to the whole of my ribcage, which might hurt but also eased the pressure on my lungs, allowing me to breathe more easily. _

_Suddenly, I noticed that, although there should be no light source in the woodbin, I could see my surroundings. Looking around, I quickly saw where the light was coming from. Somehow, all the insects and fungus, basically anything that was alive within the bin, was emanating a dull glow. The fungi almost seemed to ripple, while the insects seemed to be writhing in pain. _

_Scared that this could happen to me also, I momentarily forgot all about the pain in my ribs and sit up bolt straight, then use my newfound power to stretch my senses wide in an effort to feel out what the problem is. After a while, I started to become cognizant of the fact that the very life force of everything alive around me was leaving its hosts and flowing into…me? _

_Oh God! I was doing this; I was the evil menace that was sucking the life out of all these creatures. I felt disgusted with myself that I could do such a thing, even if it seemed to be involuntary. My eyes fully widened, I could see the light in the woodbin start to fade. With every passing moment, the bin got a little darker, and a bug or a fungus would drop dead. When the last bug, a spider, died, the bin went pitch black and with that I began to scream. _

It was a crazy and frightening dream, not so much because all the insects died, but more due to the fact that my power was responsible for their deaths. I had drained the life from them. I began worrying about what might happen to people, people I knew. Though I do not like the Dursleys, not one little bit, I still would not wish for their deaths, especially at my own hands. Just thinking about the dream filled my mind so full of fear that I could not think of anything other than the danger I may represent to anyone who happens to be around me.

After a while, I leaned forward to a sitting position, but as I came upright, my vision began to spin once again and, with a groan, I fell back, but not before my hand shot out and tried to grab onto something in a vain attempt to keep from falling. Grasping something smooth, I deduced that I seemed to be holding a long stick of some kind, and it felt wooden. My breath hitched when I grabbed onto it… could it be my staff?

With a shaky laugh I flung the stick to the other end of the bin where I heard the familiar sounds of wood hitting wood combined with wood hitting metal. "I'm in a bloody _woodbin_,of course there's wood in here you idiot!" I said to myself. Upon finishing this statement, the woodbin once again fell eerily silent.

With a deep exhale of breath I flopped back, letting my head hit the ground, sending sharp pains from my injury. How long I lay there for, I had no idea, just fiddling with the bark chips and splinters under my hands. Whenever my hand would move over a bug, however, I would quickly pull it back, not wanting to get bitten or scratched. This served to only make me think back to my dream however; it was strange how I could still remember it so vividly. For a time, I entertained the thought that it had actually happened, but shortly afterwards I shuddered slightly, desperately clutching to the belief that it really wasn't so, because if it was, I wanted nothing at all to do with it. I did not want any type of power that could kill with a mere thought; it was just too evil, too sinister. In short, in no way would I want any part of myself to have that kind of capability.

As time passed by, I lay there thinking about the prospects of my seemingly delusional powers, imagining a great hidden community of people just like me. Considering the effects of my powers, I thought that an appropriate name for such a people could be feelers. Shortly afterwards, however, I decided that feelers did not sound quite mature enough, so after some more thought, going over all of the potential adventures I could possible have, I came up with the name Readers.

I had no idea what time it was but I could guess it was still before nine in the morning, since I had not yet been ordered to make the Dursleys breakfast. Usually I would have had to have it done before they woke, but since I was stuck in here, I would have to wait until someone came to get me. It would most likely be Uncle Vernon, and I could see clearly the length of dialog for such a retrieval in my mind's eye.

"Get up, Boy! You have to make my breakfast!" I muttered under my breath in a falsely deep, rumbling voice. "Stupid! I had to _walk _to get you out, do you know how much less fat I will have now? Well Boy? Smack!" I snickered as I clapped my hands together. I knew I was going to be punished for a number of things this morning, number one on the list simply for being me, two for being a freak, three for getting hurt last night, four not making breakfast before they woke (even though it was there fault and they know it), and five being alive.

One might think this was a very strange and frightening list, but for once I was glad, for one this was a shorter list than most days. Here, I was not responsible for cleaning the cabin, so they could not lay that responsibility upon me. Also, throughout the duration of our stay here, I had not once seen Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon without some sort of alcoholic beverage in their hands; while this made them more of a danger to me, it also made it easier for me to evade their thoughts, as long as I stayed out of sight.

Dudley on the other hand was another matter all together; nowhere near as strong as Vernon, and not even half as vindictive as Petunia. Whatever his shortcomings may have been concerning his dear cousin, however, he more than made up for them with a combination of persistence and hate.

Bang!

The loud noise jerked me from my thoughts. I quickly decided that it was most likely Dudley and his friends, as another loud bang was heard and the side of the bin vibrated. Dudley and his friends continued to clobber the side of the bin for roughly ten minutes before they finally stopped. I could hear faint laughter through the metal of the bin, and it sounded like they were running away. I was uncertain as to why they left, because I knew that Dudley could keep up that racket for hours on end. There were only a few reasons why they would have stopped; either because his friends got bored, which was unlikely, or an adult came towards them, also unlikely, considering the giggles. That leaves the last, much less desirable option. Uncle Vernon.

As the word Vernon came into my mind, a sudden flash of painful, bright light erupted into the bin, and I found myself being dragged by my hair by the walrus himself. "What do you think you are doing freak? Sleeping through all hours of the day, making a ruckus so the whole forest can here you!" As Vernon was fuming, there was spittle flying from his lips and his head was starting to turn a violent red from lack of oxygen, due to scowling and yelling. "Get in there and make my breakfast before I get my hiking stick!" surprisingly enough I only got hit once, albeit a large back swing that struck me on the injured side of my head, apparently Uncle Vernon's favored side. Even though it sent me tumbling to the ground, it was still only one hit, and I felt lucky not to have received a barrage of them.

Quickly getting to my feet with a nimbleness born from a great deal of practice, I rushed into the kitchen intent on making my Uncle's breakfast as fast as I can. I was just getting out the skillet when a loud hoarse screech interrupted my progress.

"What are you doing in the kitchen like that boy?! I will not have you bleeding into my food; you will go to the bathroom right now and clean your self up." Petunia's mighty screech was like bloody nails along a chalkboard.

"Yes Aunt Petunia," I answered in a monotone voice.

"Don't you talk back to me!" she said. While not true, this statement was enough to draw Uncle Vernon into the room…punching first, asking questions later.

"Why you ungrateful little urchin!" It always seemed to me that uncle Vernon had to punctuate anything he said with some form of physical violence, and unfortunately, I was always the target. "We take you in! We give you food and water! We give you a place to sleep! We even take you on holiday with us! And how do you repay us? By talking back, you ungrateful boy!" I did not even have to listen to what Vernon was saying, for it was the same thing he always said as he was beating on me. Early on, I would let it get to me, but gradually, over time, I came to understand that these people were simply not right in the head.

"Get to the bathroom and clean yourself up you stupid boy! Oh, and go ahead and clean the rest of the room while your in there." By this point my Uncle's face had so much blood flushing to it, it was almost a perfect match to the red shirt I was wearing at the moment.

"Yes uncle Vernon." My voice had a nasally quality to it and at first I feared that it might be broken, but then the familiar taste of mucus and blood reached my lips, and I realized it was just clogged from one of the beatings.

Walking dejectedly towards the rear of the cabin, I could hear the snickering coming from the boys' room. Most likely they thought I was a weakling, that I could not stand up for myself; I knew, though, that if one of those boys was in my position they would be bawling their eyes out at the first punch.

Walking into the disgustingly dirty bathroom I let out a sigh and shook my head dejectedly. There were pinecones, dirt, grass, mud, and toilet paper scattered throughout the room, along with what most likely was last night's leftovers and smears of human excrement on all the available surfaces. The Dursleys and Co. must have put in a mighty effort to get the bathroom this dirty; the pinecones seemingly would have been the hardest to get, for they would have had to go outside to retrieve them. Just then, however, I saw a tree limb filled with pinecones pressing against the bathroom window. Oh goodie, it seems that even nature has it in for me.

Walking over to the mirror I immediately noticed that it was covered in some sort of animal fat or grease-like substance, and the most I could see in it was a dark blur that I associated with my reflection. Turning on the tap in the sink, I looked down and saw that the inside of the sink seemed to be a cornucopia of different wastes. A spray of water hit me in the face, and upon noticing that the tap appeared to be shooting water in all directions, I quickly turned it back off. Looking up into it, I could see that it had apparently been blocked with toilet paper.

Pulling the clogged paper out of the tap, I started to use it to wipe down the mirror. Looking at all the rubbish around the small room, I gave a huge sigh and sat down on the toilet, only to immediately jump back up as my butt touch the wet seat.

Deciding to just hurry up and get it over with, I pulled open the window and started to hurl the pinecones outside to the base of the tree nearby. Once they were all outside, I started to pick up all the smaller rubbish and place it inside one of the garbage bags provided by my Aunt. With all the pinecones and general rubbish gone from the room, all that was left were the dirty surfaces.

An hour later I had finished scrubbing down all the surfaces, cleaning the toilet, shower, shelves, and the basin. Now that everything was clean, I went to the mirror to sneak a look at myself. As it was at home, while I was "cleaning", I sneaked in several services for myself, drinking lots of clean water from the taps, taking a shower while cleaning the inside of it, luxuriating in the use of an actual toilet break, and cleaning my clothes along the way. Although my clothes had been rung out thoroughly, they were still fairly damp and a little bit uncomfortable across my skin, but they no longer had a grimy feel to them, and I felt infinitely better because of it.

Looking into the mirror, I saw that what ever type of bandaging the nurse had used to wrap up my head was gone, and I could therefore clearly see the pus oozing, bloody, festering wound on the right side of my head. Seeing the wound now, I hissed out a pained breath before turning on the tap and picking up some clean toilet paper.

Dampening the paper I started out by cleaning the wound and the hair around it. Most likely, the scabbing had broken open during my shower, and now I had to clean it up. Looking at the dirty wound I started to pick at some of the scabby bits to remove debris from it. After a while, having picked off half the scab and whimpered many muted protests of pain, the wound started flowing freely with fresh blood.

Picking up some clean dry toilet paper I pressed it firmly against the wound in a hope to staunch the bleeding. Looking over the bench and sink now, I steadfastly collected all the used toilet paper and deposited it in one of the rubbish bins. Giving the basin a wipe down to remove the traces of blood, I started to put all the cleaning supplies back into the bucket. Once I finished I sat quietly on the toilet still firmly pressing the make-shift bandage to my wounded head.

Gingerly removing the toilet paper from my head, I looked upon its surface and saw a large red stain in its center, but flipping it over I saw that the blood did not seep through to the other side. Folding the paper in half I once again pressed it too my head.

Another twenty minutes later I was ready to leave the once dirty bathroom, with a clean, albeit heavily bruised body, a clean wound, and a slightly soothed mind. Stepping out of the bathroom, before I even manage two steps, I was grabbed by the scruff of my neck by my uncle and thrown outside with an order.

"Get wood for a fire Boy!"

Walking over to my negative five star bedroom, I lifted up the woodbin's lid and pushed it so it leant against the building wall and stayed open. Jumping into the bin, I began to pick up a few pieces of wood before yelping and dropping my load onto my foot. Startlingly, I saw a number of dead insects slide off my arm, making my skin crawl.

Shivering a little I picked a piece of wood and began to throw it outside of the bin to the forest floor near the cabin. Every now and then I would have to watch as dead insects fell from the wood as it was picked up from the pile.

I was beginning to get a bit jittery. Although I have lived with insects my whole life, I still found myself getting spooked, for even though I have seen lots of dead ones inside this bin, I also have yet to see any live ones. Seemingly beyond my control, my thoughts slowly drifted to the events that have been happening the past day or so; lightning strikes, funny feelings, appearing and disappearing sticks, and worst of all, strange dreams where I suck the energy out of all the life forms around me.

I was broken from my thoughts by a sharp pain in my hand; looking down at it a saw a large splinter wedge into my palm. Pulling it out at the same angle it went in my hand was once again laced with pain. Unfortunately, looking at my palm also turned my gaze so that I was looking down to the floor of the wood bin, the sight of which made me shriek. The entire floor was covered in dead insects.

Jumping out of the woodbin I started to back pedal, my mouth hanging open in continual shock and my eyes never leaving the bin. Around it was a ring of dead grass, giving a strange contrast to the deep green grass that I was now standing on. A sense of horror filled me completely as my mind was forced to make the connections between my dream and this reality.

With my knees pulled tightly to my chest, I stared blankly at the underneath of the stairs in my little cupboard, my mind racing, no longer able to remember how I got through the rest of the camping trip. The only coherent thought that seems to be passing through my brain is, 'It was a dream, it had to be a dream…'

'IT WAS ALL JUST A BLOODY DREAM!'

Thanks to me beta RH4L should be about a week to the next chapter


	4. Real or not Real

Chapter 3: real or not real.

Disclaimer: edam gnieb si yenom on gnihton nwo i

The mail, every morning it's the mail.

Everyday there is a different yell, on Monday it is just "the mail boy." A nice even tone, very little anger only a little bit of agitation; the good memories from the past Sunday are still fresh in his mind.

Tuesdays are bad, "Get the damn mail now otherwise I will beat you for every second you are late getting the damn mail!" anger clear in his voice, the fact that he has had a horrible day at work the day before and is about to head out for another day makes it even worse. Following giving him the mail I receive a cuff to the head, even if his is still yelling while I hand him the mail.

Wednesday's are a nice respite, "boy! Get me the mail" nothing wrong with Wednesday's he is in the rhythm of the working week, his mind is a little numb and he is calm knowing that the weekend is only a couple days away.

Thursday's are worse, the board meeting looming in the morning of every Thursday morning always makes him anxious, walking into the kitchen he starts his rant "I swear to god you little cretin if my damn mail is not on the table by the time I get there I will slit your throat open with the damn letters!" of course I know this he tried it once, holding the edge of the paper taunt so when it was sliced across the skin of my neck it would slice in, it didn't work but I couldn't eat or drink for several days. The bastard enjoyed my pain.

On Friday's he is a bit giddy, since his promotion almost a year ago he got to get out of work on the lunch break at one in the afternoon instead of five in the evening. "Where is my mail boy!?" the coming of the short work day and weekend foremost in his mind when he should really be thinking about how to land the contracts he has been working on all week.

Saturday's the old bastard sleeps in but still wants his mail. "Boy! Damn you boy! Bring me my breakfast fast, and don't forgot my damn mail!" screaming from the second floor seems to relieve some stress because he always looks certifiable calm when I enter with the trays of food with the mail on the corner.

Sunday's would have to be the shortest order he ever gives, "mail." Seeming to believe that on a Sunday when the mail service is closed I will magically pop some mail out of my arse, and in the process rip out my innards but not before handing him the mail.

Today would be Dudley's birthday so it goes a little different, in hopes to engage in his son's birthday in one of the few mandatory days of the years he of course tries to communicate with the baby whale.

"How are you son, are you enjoying your birthday breakfast. While you up do you think you could get your old man the mail?" the cheesy grin on his face directed to his son's spluttering face that he actually got asked to do something that could use even the most precious of calories starts to tantrum having no clue as to want to do.

"wha… what! Why can't the freak get it! He's always getting it, he likes it! Make him do it!"

"But Dudders it's not that far." This is of course the wrong thing to say because the recently eleven year old boy starts to wail about child abuse from his dad, making him do everything not ever leaving him to do his own thing and getting no gratitude for it. Then he of course starts to go off on tangents ending up with 'my daddy doesn't love me because I am better than him.'

This in itself is to do with perspective, I personally think Dudley is better than Vernon, in regards to my own wellbeing Dudley's punches and kicks do far less damage than Vernon's so to me Dudley is better. But of course I know like all good parents Vernon just switches of his mind and ears as soon as Dudley started to yell in more than singular word responses.

"Well! Where is my mail boy!" this is of course directed it at me, how could it not, Dudley is now screaming incoherently so I have to make the dangerous trek of twelve steps to get the mail, who knows I might even die and save myself from the overwhelming pain on the latest trek into the unknown.

Reaching the front door where there is a small pile of mail resting at the foot of the door with one solitary piece of mail still stuck in the mail shutter. Freeing the letter from the slot I don't bother looking at it but notice it is heavy in my hands and has a much different texture to the normal letters. Looking at it now I see it has on the front of it in bold green ink my name on it.

_Mr H. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Private Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

Below this I can see a shield with a large 'H' emblazed in the centre like a shield with a raven, badger, snake and a lion surrounding the 'H' like a coat of arms. Thinking quickly on my feet, it has personal information on it, if Vernon sees it he is likely to think I told someone about how I live here. That would only get me a beating for something I had no hand in.

Quickly shoving the letter into my cupboard to hide it, I pick up the rest of the mail and retreat back into the kitchen.

"What took you so long you idiot boy!" I manage to keep my feet as Vernon cuffs me in the head before giving him the mail. I regain my seat only to see my single piece of bacon being stolen by Dudley.

"Oh look Dudley you got a letter from your Aunt Marge." Dudley hearing the words 'Aunt Marge' quickly snatched the letter away from his father before ripping open the letter, discarding the card inside and waving around a fifty pound note in the air whilst cackling wildly.

"Boy clean the kitchen," my Aunt petunia screeched at me before turning to Dudley, "Dudders, Duddykins… Duddylumpkins, look at your mother!" seeing she had her sons attention she put on a sweet smile, "Duddy how would you like to open your presents now?"

As predicted at the word 'presents' the Baby whale is out of the room faster than a speeding bullet and into the adjoining sitting room where all his presents are sitting.

Reaching the kitchen bench I ignore the yells coming from Dudley whilst I clean up the kitchen with thoughts of my own letter whizzing around my head.

Questions like, _where did it come from? Who would send Me a letter? What is it about? Why send me a letter? _The question were all zooming around my head and all coming up blank leaving me anxious as to the time where I could open it up and find out all about it.

With the kitchen clean I try to move to my cupboard and my waiting letter before I am interrupted from my thoughts by the yell of my uncle.

"Boy! Get in the room and get rid of all this wrapping paper. Now!" groaning under my breath I go into the sitting room and hear my cousin wingding about only have _thirty-eight _presents and not forty like he had last year.

Cleaning up the paper I see a broken, brand new skateboard, no doubt he tried to stand on the thing and broke it. Picking up the board I could see there was just a small crack along the tip and a broken wheel. It looked like it could be fixed so I decided to put it behind the shed where I could get to it later, along with some of Dudley's other broken toys.

With about half of the paper cleaned up, and all of the presents neatly stacked along one side of the wall, a small but fat hand clapped onto my shoulder and I was spun around to come face to face with Dudley and Piers, Dudley's best friend and the only one among them with half a brain.

By the grins on their faces, it seemed that Vernon and Petunia were occupied with something, that could only mean one thing, Harry hunting, but it would seem that the hunt and been concluded and it was time to enjoy the spoils.

Before they could get really into it though, there was a sickly sweet call from aunt Petunia and she would most likely that she had disturbed the boy's fun.

"Boys! Come here now it's time to go to the Zoo, are you both ready?" at a nod from both of the boys she smiled then headed my way. "It's about time we got you off to Mrs. Fig now isn't. Come here! You will finish cleaning when we get back, and you will be punished for not having it done by now."

Grabbing me by the collar of my oversized shirt she dragged me outside and down the street to Mrs. Fig's house. When we got there Petunia knocked on the door before releasing me. she stood stiff waiting for Mrs. Fig to answer the door. We were standing there for another five minutes, 12 knocks, and three shouts, before she hit me in the head and grabbing my collar again before storming off back towards the house. When we got back to the house I saw Vernon standing by the car with a purple face and a pulsing forehead vein.

"Whilst you were gone with the boy we got a call from Mrs. Fig, she broke her leg yesterday by tripping over her dammed cats. She can't take him today! She is the damn hospital!" this was a surprising bit of news if I left at home at could go over the letter in complete privacy. The other choice of course…

"We are not leaving this boy in our house; he will touch things and make them dirty!"

Damn well looks like the Zoo it is.

"Petunia but if we lock him in the cupboard? He couldn't touch your things that way… besides I do not want him in my car look at the filthy rat, he would get the seats are dirty and smelly!"

It looked like a battle of the vain, Vernon didn't want his car dirty, and Petunia didn't want her house dirty. What were they to do!? It seemed that Petunia broke first.

"Fine lock him in the damn cupboard!" Vernon answering grin was slightly terrifying as he gripped me by the hair and more or less threw me into my cupboard. When in the cupboard I stayed silent as I listen to my aunt and uncle gather the two boys and put them into the car. Listening carefully I waited for the sound of the car leaving and was soon rewarded with the sound of the tires screeching on the pavement.

I waited for a little while longer before unlocking my door, the stupidity of my relatives never ceases to amaze me, as the door to the cupboard isn't a proper door it couldn't fit a normal lock, therefore in place of that they had a lock with the mechanisms open to the inside of the door. All I had to do was twist a small knob and the door unlocked. Simple to understand but when my uncle fitted it to the door whilst grinning crazily in my face he didn't seem to grasp this fact.

Grabbing the letter I step out of my cupboard and went into the kitchen, when I was in there I made the effort to not touch anything leaving exactly how it is. Sitting in one of the chairs I set the letter on the table and just stared at it for a little bit. Reaching out I slowly run my finger along my own name, before snatching up the letter and opening it.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZADRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, _

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Question exploded into my head like raging fireworks, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I started to hyperventilate breathing incredibly hard; I just did not understand what was going on.

What was going on, unwanted and suppressed memories from years ago sprung into my head, sitting in a tree holding a stick being struck by lighting, later a Staff, being stuck in a wood bin, a dream of sucking the very life out of all the insects and fungus around me, sucking it all into my body. Running through a forest hearing popping noises and seeing the Staff and Foci resting on a tree in front of me. Unwanted images of the Staff and Foci entered my mind with minute details, the grain of the wood, crimson red streaks, the brown earthy color of the wood.

'Pop'

"Ahhh!" I screamed loud and clear, there at my feet were the Staff, a six foot long piece of earthy brown wood with dull red streaks through it, and the Foci, a small foot long piece of the same earthy wood but with crimson red streaks and a yellow almost white tip.

Dropping the letter I jumped out of seat a run from the kitchen into the hall. Leaning against the cupboard door I slowly slumped to the floor, I could feel them now. My mind was blank I could not think about anything except for the Staff and Foci and the prospect of magic. I could feel it now the… almost glow of the Staff and Foci in my find, both very similar but had slight differences, and they seemed connected, just like I seemed to be connected to them.

Focusing on the power of the Staff and Foci, I got up slowly and took flat, loud unstable steps back into the kitchen. Looking down at my feet now I could feel the Foci start to pulse a little stronger than the Staff, reaching down I picked it up, and dropped as soon as I had a strong grip on it.

The power that flowed into me was intense, the Staff's glow seemed twice as strong, and I could feel more now, the sink drain had the tiniest dull glow, in the top corner of the room was a single spot of power, along the window sill the was a number of dots forming a line. Feeling this now, the dream in the Woodbin came into my mind so I almost threw the Foci in an attempt to stop the feeling flooding into me.

As soon as the Foci left my hand so did everything that I was feeling leave my head, and as it did I collapsed to the floor panting and groaning. Sitting on the floor now I looked at the Foci lying several feet away from looking now just like a useless piece of wood.

The logical part of my brain started to kick in slightly, I had to prove something, and despite everything in me telling me that this is real I needed to check. Standing up on shaky legs I looked up into the top left corner of the ceiling and saw a spider making a web.

Gulping hard I step over to the sink, there on the window sill were a number of ants running across the length of it forming a line, my breathing picked up, I looked down the drain in the sink and saw all the algae growing on the inside of drain before slowly turning around and sitting once again on the floor.

Looking across the floor I could see the crumpled letter from Hogwarts on the floor next to the Staff. Crawling along the floor I avoided touching either Staff or Foci and picked up the letter, straightening the pages I shuffled through them until I cam to the page about books and equipment.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZADRY_

Uniform

_First year students will require:_

_Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

Set Books

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk_

A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot_

Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling_

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch_

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore_

Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger_

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _by Newt Scamander_

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble_

Other Equipment

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS._

Staring blankly at the sheet of paper I just gaped at it, how the hell was I supposed to get all of that? The Dursley's would of course be no help at all considering the fact that already called him a freak since birth.

Looking over the list once more, I begun to think, trying to work this out. Never have I ever heard of any of these things, which means that they must have hidden all of the shops, and what better way to hide things than by magic. Secondly it must be somewhere where everyone can get to it, not some remote village way off into the country, and than means London. But how would I find it? That was my worst fear, not being able to find any of it.

Looking down at the staff and foci my begun started to freeze, the feelings of the power that I had whilst holding onto that small piece of wood, being able to feel everything living near me. How would I feel if there was magic around the place? Determined now that if I held the foci… well wand I guess I would have to say now, I should be able to feel it… shouldn't I?

Folding up the letter, I went back to my cupboard and placed it under the small lumpy mattress. Going back into the kitchen I looked down at the wand before reaching down to pick it up. Just as I was about to pick it up, I faltered. I was scared; I did not want to suck the life away from everything. Taking off up shirt I dropped it onto the wand before picking it up.

I could just feel the glow of the staff now, like a small light just out my field of vision no where near as strong as it was before. Letting out a breath I went back to my cupboard I shoved the wand into one of Vernon's old socks before putting the other sock over that one. Putting it under the bed, I went back into the kitchen.

Looking at the size of it I frowned a little, my shirt would not cover it up. Going back into the hall I opened the linen closet and took out an old and faded sheet before fixing up the stack of clean sheets to make it look neat.

Throwing the sheet of the staff I started to role it up making sure that every inch of it was thoroughly covered up. Picking up I did not even get the dullest glow from my surroundings. Looking into my cupboard I tried to find a place to store the staff. Smiling I put it up right into a corner where it just fit under the top of the stairs.

Satisfied that it was safe there I went back into the kitchen and righted the seats to what they were before I was in there before going over to the sink and cupping my hands underneath it I turned on and took a long drink from the tap turning it off I grabbed my t-shirt and wipe the inside of the sink to dry it so it looked unused. As I was settling back into my shirt I heard the car pull in.

I guess I must have spent more time staring off into space that I thought, it was almost six o'clock and it looked like it was getting dark soon. Rushing back to my cupboard I quietly closed the door and jimmied the lock until it snapped shut. It wasn't too much later that I could hear the crazy giggles of Piers and Dudley as they jumped on the stairs on top of my room.

All in all it was probably the best of Dudley's birthdays that I had ever had the privilege of celebrating in. I was shocked out of thoughts as my door burst open and there was my aunt's face fixed in an evil sneer.

"Clean the house boy! Now!" the door was left open and I was soon zipping around the house avoiding Dudley and Piers whilst cleaning everything up. I guess it wasn't so good after all.

AN sorry about the wait i really dont want to explain... dont like first person? Harden the fuck up and take it it cause i do and i am the author so there!


	5. Thruths Revealed

Chapter 4- truths revealed

Disclaimer: what I said before.

AN: not so sorry about the delay I actually moved interstate by myself and it has taken a fair while to get everything sorted… had to find a cheap arse place to live… had to find a job to get money… then just get into things… it wasn't until about five days ago that I actually got my internet running and what a shit internet connections is… its what I get for getting the cheapest possible one. But hey my insomnia is back and that's the whole reason I started writing… you should all feel happy.

But if ur thinking that I have like a stockpile of already written chapters to post… well HA sucks to be you… that's the kind of stuff you get from a reliable person… let me repeat that, I COULD NOT BE FRACKED WRITING IF I COULDN'T POST IT so yeah, but you never know I could have another chapter out within a week you never know, wat with being in steady rythem now and everything.

Anyway onto the story!!

Btw I couldn't write 3rd person I tried but I kept slipping into first… sorry guys but hey im the author I can do what the frack I like

Standing against the fence of house in a neighboring suburb of little Whinging, I could not shake the feeling that something was going to go severely wrong. Wouldn't it be strange to the bus driver for a ten year to get on the bus by themselves? Would he ask questions I couldn't answer? Did I have enough pilfered money to get to where ever the hell I was meant to go? Could I even get an _owl _to deliverer a letter to Hogwarts saying I couldn't go?

So many things could go wrong. in my mind I was debating with myself, I'd have to do it eventually, the Dursley's by now would know I'm gone… so I would be getting punished whether I went to London or went back now. But if I went now the beating I would receive would far more painful than if I went back to the Dursley's.

On the other hand… it would only be a single beating. Off to London it is.

Checking myself I wanted to make sure I had everything… one of Dudley many wallets, check, pilfered money inside of said wallet, check. One securely wrapped up magical foci, check, and finally a map of London and its many bus routes, check.

With everything securely on me I let out a sigh of relief and fell heavily back onto the fence behind me. Spying the bus come around a corner several blocks away I pushed off the fence and took out the wallet in preparation.

The bus comes to a screeching halt with the door positioned next to the post, letting the one other person on the bus before me I listen and look closely to see what he does.

"King's Cross" the teenager says I don't quite here what the driver said but the teenager hands over a five pound note and receives some change before striding down the length of the bus and slinging himself onto the back seat of the bus.

Thinking quickly, King's Cross is in the centre of London near enough and it was less than five pounds, perfect for me because I did not have all that much money anyway. Stepping up into the bus I look the bus driver in the eyes and squeeze out the words

"King's Cross please." Tilting my head unconsciously to the side, I am now looking up at the bus driver hoping that nothing goes wrong.

"Three quid" is the driver's simple response. Opening the wallet I count out three pounds in coins and giving them to the driver. As I give them to him he looks at me a bit strangely, it could be because I just realize that I gave him the coins like I was being mugged, or the fact that my face was slowly burning up because I had yet to breath since saying 'King's Cross'

He counts out the money before putting it away, he pulls a lever and I can feel the doors close behind me.

"Well, take a seat lad" the driver chuckles a little before putting the bus into gear and pulling away from the curb. Hurrying through the bus I take a seat near the back. Once I was firmly seated I allowed myself to breath.

Zoning out a little bit and I don't really take stock of my surroundings, but I do keep an eye on the boy who got on before me, I didn't know which stop was King's Cross I would just have to get off when he did.

It seemed to take hours before the boy behind me and half the bus stood up and started to leave the bus, it happened so fast that my foot had just touched the middle aisle when the last pair of feet left the bus. Quickly rushing out of the bus I released a sigh of relief as the doors close behind me.

Looking around me I am quite surprised, there were people everywhere, all over the place, and the buildings, I could not believe that I did not notice how big the city was, I didn't even notice that I went from suburb to city within the bus, it was like I step into the bus in a forest and step off in high-rise central.

The activity was amazing, it felt so much more… comfortable than at the Dursley's it was so tense there, but here in the city it was rushed but it was, lively, exciting.

I was broken from my thoughts as I was bustled by some people stepping off a bus that had just arrived, quickly stepping out of there way I tried to find somewhere secluded. But a secluded spot could just not be found. I stopped for a moment to look around but I was roughly pushed from behind.

"Watch it kid, don't just stop in the middle of a street" said a faceless man before he walked along. I moved to the side and watched the traffic of people move for a while. It was here that I could catch my breath; it was also where I was starting to lose my head. There was just too many people about… how could I find anything with all these people around.

Backing into the wall behind me I started to hyperventilate, my breathing was becoming hectic, covering up my mouth with my hand I started to cough badly as I just could not get any air. Once my cough subsided I could breath just a little easier.

Looking around the street I could see a little alcove ahead, more of a door way but it would do. Walking forward I slipped into the doorway and felt instantly better. The door way seemed to cut off a lot of my senses; it was like I was looking out of window now instead of being right in it.

Once I had my breathing under control, I slipped my hand down into my pocket, griping the thickly covered _wand_ my breath hitched before I let it go. I couldn't feel anything, which was good I guess, and expected, what with a pillow case and two pairs of Vernon old woolly socks covering it.

Quickly ripping off the first pair of socks I focused solely on the foci, slipping off one of the socks leaving the tip still covered put the handle exposed, I moved the pillow case around until I could clearly see the handle.

Reaching down the closer my hand got to the foci the more it seemed to pulse with its own energy, focusing everything I had on the foci I slowed my breathing a gripped the handle. At first all I could feel was a pulsing inside of me that bounced off of the foci, it was nothing like I had ever felt before but it was a pleasant feeling.

Breathing a sigh of relief I let my focus go and looked up to the crowd, but to only see and feel a giant flare inside my head. Everything thing seemed to stop. All my sight, my hearing, smell, everything but I was still there. After a period of time I wasn't to sure things started to come back into focus, and the first thing that came back was my touch, I could tell I had a death grip on the foci.

Letting go of it quickly everything came back in one big rush, I could hear a pitiful groaning, the smell of asphalt and the same hurried footsteps and muttered words of the passing people. Looking up from the ground I could feel my head spin a little and the groaning heightened in sound a little, sitting up against the wall of the doorway I begun to collect myself.

The groaning, I was groaning, finding the sound to be grating on my nerves it ground out in a snort. I started to breathe deeply trying to figure some things out, mainly, what the hell happened. Thinking back I tried to retraces my steps.

"uncover my _wand… _focus on it didn't want a big unwanted rush of power, hah… no big rush felt inside of me then poof big effing flash of power," groaning again I held my head in my hands, "From what… from what dammit… the people I sensed the people, of course they'd be more powerful than ants you idiot."

Standing up I looked over the masses of people that were beginning to thin out, I guess it was about time they got to work.

"Okay, have to find a place… no people about. C'mon Harry you can do it." I can't help but chuckle deeply at this because according to uncle Vernon I can't do anything. "Hah"

Walking around London it was hard to find a place where there was no one around but I eventually found a corner by a rundown dark looking pub called the 'Leaky cauldron' sitting down on an overturned box I slowed my breathing. Focusing clearly on my foci I kept it clear in my mind. Reaching down into my pocket I lightly griped the handle. When all I could feel was myself and the foci I let my breath go.

Focusing on what I could feel, I just could not fit it to anything, it was like being in a cave and when you say something and it echo's around the cave, where the foci was the words and I was the cave. Or when you drop a stone in a pond and the water ripples around where it landed, or even waves in the ocean. With each deep breath the feeling just seemed to get bigger and bigger

Opening my eyes I looked around and saw streaks of different lights surrounding the area I was in. trying to think what it could be, my focus started to slip. Suddenly there was a sharp pain in my body and any and all thoughts left my head and all that was left was a cage of pain.

Suddenly it was all over, looking to my side I could see that my foci was a couple of feet away, it would seem that with the foci my connection to what ever it was that was causing me pain left.

Getting a sock out of my pocket I dropped it over the foci before picking it up and stuffing it back into my pocket. Sitting down back on the box I wanted to think but I was rudely interrupted by a number of men in strange clothes come out of the pub the Leaky Cauldron.

"What is it Tom?" said one of the men addressing the man who seemed to be leading the men.

"I don't know, something is off with the wards, the alarms went on and off… I don't understand, either they were tripped or they weren't." said Tom to the men. He suddenly stopped and pulled out a focus of his own. Looking at them my breath hitched. What was going on?

He waved it around a bit before getting a confused look on his face.

"What is it Tom?" asked one of the other guys.

"It's nothing really; the wards just seemed to have had a drop of power is all. Damn I will have to owl the Auror's to check it out though." Tom said with a bit of a defeated look on his face. "Oh well let's get back to the tables, yeah." The group of men turned to go back into the pub but the one called Tom caught sight of me.

"Oi you, Kid what are you doin' here"

"Nothing sir" my reply was quite hasty but I was just a little bit startled. Thinking back on what I know of magic there are a few words that spring to mind, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Gathering my courage I asked a question I wasn't to sure how to broach, so I just asked. "Are you a Wizard?"

The man called Tom just looked at me funny for a bit before walking over to me, the other guys seemed to have gone back to the pub, deeming Tom well enough to deal with me alone.

"And why are you asking that" he asked

Fidgeting a little a try to come up with something to say but thinking about what I saw I might as well go all out. "well I, um… well you see, I um… got this letter…"

"From Hogwarts?" he asks with a small smile.

I couldn't help myself my face broke out in a huge grin and a jumped up from the box I was sitting on. "Yes from Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Well that's good isn't it? Are you from a muggle a family?" Tom asked

"A What?"

"That's a yes, you see son a muggle is a normal person, a non-magical person see."

"Okay, isn't muggle a little bit mean? I mean it sounds mean I mean."

"Don't worry about it. What's your name?"

"Harry"

"Well Harry where are your parents, I bet your bursting to go see Diagon Ally by now."

"Um well… I'm here alone."

"Can I see your letter?"

"Um no… I don't have it on me; it's at home, what's Diagon Ally?"

"What don't you know? This was all meant to be explained to you when you got your letter. A teacher did drop it off for you didn't they?" at this I just shake my head, not knowing what to say. "Well come on then I know Minerva came through earlier, she's the deputy headmistress she will be able to show you around."

Tom grabbed me by the shoulder and steered me towards the pub, pushing open the door Tom pushed me through and my heart skipped a beat. It was amazing, floating tea cups, and pots, brooms sweeping the floor by themselves dusters dusting the shelves. It seemed magic wasn't just for what my mind could come up with.

Two men facing off in a forests with staffs out, magical bolts of energy bursting from the tips right before they charge at each other with fireballs, summoning demons to fight for them.

My mind was broken from its rambles by Tom, "Well come on then lets find you that teacher."

Tom steered me through the tables until we came to a back door, opening it up we walked out into a small courtyard with a couple of bins and a old red brick wall.

"Look closely now" Tom Said as he looked down at me. He took out his foci and tapped some bricks on the wall before looking down at me grinning like mad. "Look at the wall, you won't want to miss this."

Following his instructions I snapped my head forwards looking at the brick wall. Slowly starting with the bricks that tom touched with his foci, the bricks started to fold back, pop open and with increasing speed they moved away until all that was left was a clear doorway into Diagon ally.

"I remember the first time I saw this place to, I was awestruck as well, and I came from a magical family." With a hearty chuckle Tom started to walk me through the ally pointing out some shops as we went along, the book store a large three story building with books in the windows out front with the pages turning themselves every few seconds, the bank, a giant structure of white marble with the label the Gringots emblazed above the entrance.

"You see the bank there Harry? Its run by goblin it is." Tom said with a huge grin.

stores for everything lined the alley all with something in the window doing something so magical yet at the same time so inane, until we finally came upon the Owl Post.

The building from the outside was fairly plan, a grey stone building with a large sign in golden lettering saying 'Owl Post Office'

"Come on inside I heard that Minerva had to pick up some mail from here, look there she is."

The same could not be said of the inside. It seemed almost the same as a normal post office but there were quite a few differences. All along the back wall were owls, hundreds and hundreds of owls, all of different species size and color, but all standing proudly upon their perches.

Only the sides of the building there were a number of tables and counter tops, some with people on them writing letters, or checking them and at one of the counter's was the Deputy Headmistress

Walking up to her I begun to get a little bit nervous, having no idea how to greet her or what to say, about anything. Swallowing my beating heart I waited with bated breath, not knowing what was going to happen.

Tom seemingly noticing my anxiety squeezed my shoulder.

"Don't worry lad everything's going to be fine."

Releasing a shaky breath from my lungs we took the last few steps in the direction of the deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Morning Professor" said Tom with a cheery voice as we reach the witch's side. The professor not even looking around or even showing any notice of hearing what Tom said spoke over her shoulder.

Professor McGonagall had a stern posture, straight back, her hair in a tight bun and her clothes clean and falling straight to the ground, her whole appearance scream strict and responsible.

"What can I do for you Tom? I would expect you to be waiting your tables this time of the day." Looking up now she looked at Tom's face and caught the admonished look on his face, seemingly satisfied with what she saw she turned back to a stack of letters and various package on the counter near her.

"Well Professor I –"

"Tom I have not taught you in quite a number of years, please stop calling me Professor, its Minerva."

"Yes well, I seem to have come upon a young muggle born child, he's here alone and apparently hasn't had some things explained to him, like well everything." At hearing this the Professor's head snapped around to look at Tom before slowly turning to look at me.

She didn't say anything for awhile, she just stared at me, and I couldn't help but fidget under her stern gaze. Eventually she snapped her head back to Tom.

"Thank you Tom I will take it from here," Tom being dismissed let go of my shoulder and hurried out of the office and presumably back to the Leaky Cauldron. "So tell me your name?"

"Um, it's Harry" after she heard my name her brow crinkled lightly before her face became a stone mask once again

"Well Harry lets go somewhere quiet to talk yes? Come, follow Me." it was now that I could identify a Scottish accent to her voice, it was quick and clipped. She gathered her things and put them under her arm before turning on the spot and striding out of the Owl Office.

Following quickly, I wanted to ask her some questions but all that was happening as my mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out. After five minutes of walking through the strange ally I begun to slag behind until she suddenly stopped outside a shop door. Hopping on quick feet I quickly followed her through the closing door whilst managing to catch sight of the name, the 'Simmering Pot'.

The Simmering Pot was a much more subdued place compared to the Leaky Cauldron and much smaller as well. McGonagall walked up to a young girl at the counter. The young girl in question had a bubbly appearance with a big smile on her face and red rosy cheeks, bobbing her head as she hummed a tune to herself.

"I see you found yourself a summer job Nymphadora. I will take a private room, and would you send up some tea and biscuits as well?"

The young girl blushed at mention of her name, and so did I.

"Yes Professor that will be two Galleons and four sickles please."

"Thank you Nymphadora, come Harry."

Nymphadora blushed even brighter at a second mention of her name and turned away as I walked past her and up a flight of stairs before turning down the third door on the right. Inside of the room there were a number of cushioned stools, a low sitting couch and a coffee table in the middle of the room.

The room it self was fairly plan, an open window the wall directly opposite the door, a still life painting of a field of flowers to the wall on my right, of moving flowers.

Moving closers to the painting I could see that the field of flowers was actually moving in an unseen wind, random leaves and flowers breaking off and floating off out of the picture frame.

"Wow… this painting is awesome!" I said in an uncharacteristically excited voice, "Are all of them like this?" I asked before moving to the opposite wall where there was a portrait of an unknown man. The man in the painting _twisted _his head to look at me and blinked a couple of times.

"Are all of them like what boy?" said the painting in a tartly voice, I couldn't help but take a step back in surprise, before I could feel a face splitting grin upon my face.

"Awesome!" I said as I turned to look at the Professor, who had a small but strangely still stern grin.

"Please sit down Harry; I will answer any of your questions once the tea gets here okay? Good."

I just nodded dumbly and sat down on one of the stools while McGonagall arranged herself of the couch with her legs folded to the side. After a couple minutes of just looking around the room noticing so many small things which were just amazing, there was a knock on the door before a plump looking woman walked through carrying a tray with a teapot, two tea cups and a plate of various biscuits and pastries.

"Here you go Professor." Said the friendly woman as she set the tray on the table and unloading it before placing the empty tray behind her back.

"Thank you; I'll call you if there is anything else." She said whilst picking up a sugar cube and dropping it in her tea.

"Yes thank you" I say as she leaves the room, but I seem to go unnoticed beside the Professor. As the door closed the time to talk seemed upon me.

"So tell me Mr. Potter, what question do u have to ask me, because I have a fair few I'd like to ask you as well."

"I… um how did you know my last name?" I say kind of suspiciously now.

"Well I am the deputy Headmistress of the school, I have to screen each name before writing the letters to all new and old students, and there was only one new Harry, and that is you Mr. Potter." She explained eloquently as she took a sip of her tea. I blushed uncontrollably at her explanation, the simplicity of it.

"So Mr. Potter, is there any pressing question you want to ask me, or would you like me to explain in general Hogwarts and the magical world to you as you seem to have no clue." She sounded quite exasperated whilst speaking, and her Scottish brogue became more pronounced as her little speech went on.

"Um… well I don't want to be a bother… I just came to find out a why to get a letter to you to say I can't go." I ended up saying it in a rush, crushing my own hopes as I said, knowing though they were pipe dreams to begin with, there was no way I could go considering the Dursley's view of me. It was best to just get it out there.

The professor on the other hand seemed very surprised; in fact she showed more expression then than I had yet to see on her face, but the look of surprise was soon replaced with subtle confusion.

"And can you tell me why Mr. Potter?"

"It's ar… I couldn't um… I don't have any… well I can't afford to go." I just couldn't get the whole truth out of me, it's not that the Dursley's didn't have the money, it was just that there was no way in hell that they would pay for me to go, even if hell _did_ freeze over.

"That's Preposterous." The Professor look openly angry now, I had no idea why, it wasn't my fault, but the anger on her face made me so scared that I couldn't help but hunch in on myself.

"I'm sorry Professor, I didn't mean to make you angry." Saying what I thought she wanted to hear, who knows what she would do in her anger, the knowledge I had on what angry adults do when they're angry come from Vernon and Petunia, and it was never good. Never.

"What's wrong with you" she snapped out, I couldn't help my body involuntarily flinching. The tension of anger drained from her face and she seemed just a little bit paler than before. She leaned forward just a little and I put my head down and looked at the ground

"Harry," she said in a much calmer and quieter tone, "Why did you flinch?" with my body still hunched up on itself, my shoulders slumped, I was looking at the ground and didn't know what was happening, but when I felt a hand land on my shoulder, my whole body tensed up, every… single… muscle, including my brain. It instinctively shut it self down.

I'm not to sure how long I was unresponsive, but usually I had to force my mind into this state, to forget about the pain, not feel in being inflicted on my body, I could still feel, in a way, what was happening, but it was more of a knowing.

This time however, everything was shut out, I couldn't hear, couldn't see, but I could feel my heart racing, beating faster than I could ever remember. Why though? Was it because everyone single one of my dreams was just shut down, why did I even come here? I just got my hopes up when I k_new_ that I wouldn't be able to do anything about it. The anger I felt at myself was beyond anything I had ever felt before. Even for the Dursley's, all I had for them was a hateful disdain. But making myself feel that glimmer of hope before killing it, was just more painful than I could have ever conceived.

With my own self-anguish my mind slowly begun to get more feeling, it started deep in my chest, a slow thrumming, and a deep low beat. It felt powerful, so powerful I just slowly gave into; it was like waves in an ocean.

Waking up not knowing what was happening was, a feeling I was unaccustomed to. Blinking my eyes in big slow beats my vision started to clear I could see the concerned face of Professor McGonagall looking down at me.

I looked into her eyes and I could see unknown emotions pass through them, unknown to me at any rate. I could sometimes catch a glimpse of this same emotion glimmer in Petunia's eyes when she looked at Dudley when ever he was hurt. But to look at it myself was quite a different experience.

Just looking at the open concern in her eyes made the tension in my body relax; my shoulder's slowly released the tension, my legs soon followed. Looking her in the eyes still my eyes scanned her face and the emotions where clear on her face, I couldn't help but let my spine relax, I could feel my back now rest comfortably on the floor.

But as my whole body was relaxed, loose, the look in her eyes had nothing else to work on but my emotions. And I could feel them slowly unwind, a stinging in the back of my eyes that I had not felt in over six years. It was uncomfortable feeling, one I hated. My body tensed again, and seeing this, the professor backed away, out of my field of view.

Sitting up I backed away a little before turning slightly side on to the professor.

"What happened" I say not able to stand the silence, and to tense to stammer on my words.

"When I touched you, you froze up, completely." the professor in a somewhat shaky voice, more startled now. "You wouldn't respond so I stunned you, I made you sleep, and then I woke you up again." Her body whilst talking shifted slightly so now her head was slightly turned as she looked at me, a slightly defensive position. She paused for a while after I didn't respond, she moved around a bit, rearranging her clothes, not fidgeting, making them neat, she was collecting her self.

"Harry, I want you to tell my why you froze up." She was back to complete confidence, back straight, her body facing towards me, and her hands on her knees. An open posture, neutral, not anger or scared or shocked.

I tried to answer, to say anything but my mouth only flapped uselessly before snapping shut so hard I could feel my teeth pushing against each other and feel my gums flame up in some pain.

"Harry… has someone ever hit you?" I couldn't answer but I could feel my jaw clench even more, my teeth sliding along each other. "An adult? Your Uncle?"

I didn't relies I was staring at the ground until my head snapped up when she said Uncle, but realizing my fatal error I went back to staring back at the ground. In the few times that I did do something wrong at the Dursley's, I learned quickly that reacting to anything said was more or less an admission of guilt. It was a pity I couldn't have applied that lesson here.

"Harry did your Uncle do more than ever hit you? Did he beat you?" I couldn't stop my body from shaking, but I could not move, running away always leads to more hurt, at least by staying the pain was shorter, I wasn't to sure that this could be applied to what was happening now, but I still couldn't move.

The professor was quiet for a long while, either waiting for me to say something, or just waiting, I wasn't to sure, but the longer the silence lasted the more tension left me, I wasn't to sure if this was a good thing, I was still on edge, but without body tensing uncontrollably, my brain had time to think, and that uncomfortable stinging in my eyes started to return.

My nose started to run a little bit, and I couldn't stop a small sniffle trying to make the feeling stop. In an extremely quiet voice, so quiet I could barely hear Professor McGonagall spoke.

"Harry… its okay. I will not hurt you." The conviction in her voice just seemed to open something in me, a small dose of innocence I didn't know I had, or maybe even self delusion. But any real external thought stayed separate to what I was actually doing.

"You won't"

"Never Harry." She was still speaking in that quiet voice it was calm, it was like listening to the wind, peaceful. "You can talk to me Harry, I promise I won't get angry, I'll just listen, I swear." Her voice gained an edge at the end; it differed from her calm soothing tone, it was a little bit frenzied, made it sound so much more trustworthy… somehow.

Whether it was real or not, I did, I trusted her, and I talked to her, at first I was very unsure how to, but with a calm attentive, patient gaze many things came out, but nothing to specific. I talked about the Dursley's just what type of people they were, I never said anything about the abuse, but the way she looked at me the couple of times when I let slip a story of being hit here or there, being locked up for being bad, the looks she gave m as I gazed up at her through my fringe made me believe that she knew more was going on.

I never said anything about the staff and wand, something almost stopping me from doing so, but I did up telling her how I came about to find the alley where magic it self seemed to be fixed to, sitting outside the leaky cauldron, sitting on an old crate because there was no one around, and I needed time away from the vast crowds, and finally seeing Tom the bar keep come out with wand raised.

As I finished McGonagall reached out to touch me for the first since I froze up, and I let her lightly place her hand on my shoulder, giving it a small squeeze before sitting back down.

"Harry," she paused with a concerned look on her face, "Do you…want to go back, to the Dursley's?" she paused as if waiting for an answer but the way she posed the question it seemed somewhat rhetorical, but she didn't seem sure. "Or do you want to stay here until school starts?"

Silenced reigned for a short amount of time, it seemed even the background sound had been cut of the dull hubbub of conversation of downstairs no longer reaching the room we were in. licking my lips I replied cautiously not knowing what was going to happen from here.

"I would like to stay here" a quiet breathless voice spoke, seemingly different to any tone I have ever used before, it must have been hope.

"Okay" the professor said as a kind smile broke open her face. "I want you to wait here I will be back shortly, I will be going to book a room here for you, for the night, okay?" she looked to me wanting conformation that I understood. Not being able to speak I just nodded my head dumbly.

As my future Professor opened the door I was welcomed with the warming sounds of the Simmering Pot's tea house down stairs. As I sat there for an unknown amount of time and saw the picture of the man looking at me, he gave me a stern glare before walking _through _his own picture frame and walked over into the field of flowers where he sat down amongst them. Blinking slowly a small grin came back to my face.

"Magic is awesome!" looking around I saw another portrait on the same wall as the man, when she saw me looking she looked me in the eyes shook her head a little.

"You poor boy" the portrait said in a somber tone, the emotion in the portraits voice made the small grin fall off of my face as a looked to the door hoping that Professor McGonagall would return soon.

After another couple tense minutes of sneaking glances at the witch in the picture the door opened to the private tea room and McGonagall stepped through with a small smile in here eyes but with a stern expression back on here face.

"Well Harry I managed to get you a room for the night but there are some things I want you to remember okay? I don't want you to leave your room at all once we get there, and I will come and get you tomorrow okay, I will becoming around midday, we can get your things and set up something more permanent for your accommodation, okay Harry?"

Staring at her with my mouth agape, I just nodded at her silently as she smiled kindly at me.

"Well come on, follow Me." she left the room and held the door open, as I walked through it she closed it behind me and lightly placed just her finger tips on my shoulder and steered me down the hallway, as we reach a door with the number 7 stamped on it with fading gold paint, McGonagall reached into her robe and pulled out a key which she handed to me.

Taking the key gently from her hand I turned to the door and unlocked it, opening the door I walked through looking around the room with wide eyes before turning around and seeing the Professor standing in the doorway. McGonagall reached into the door removed the key and placed it on a table near the doorway.

"Good night Harry, I will see you tomorrow" closing the door behind herself I smiled and let my boy relax for the first time that day, turning around I jumped on the four poster bed and fell asleep before I had even stopped bouncing.

AN: it would be really nice if I could get some Reviews it would almost like having my mum here to wash my clothes…. And cook me dinner…. And and and… all that others stuff that mums do that you don't know that are important until there gone… like a clean fucking toilet.

PEACE OUT!!


	6. Shopping to Completion

…

…. A dramatic reenactment of why it took so long…..

_Hi im Microsoft word…I know I have been working perfectly for the past six months…. Put I have to do what computers do best… and I have to wait for the right time._

_Ohh…. That's it right there, that's right… ohh eleven thousand words… that's right I dare you to save it…. Go on I dare you…. That's right, ctrl s._

_YOUR FUCKED NOW._

_ERROR_

_ERROR_

_HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH_

_FUCK YOU delete it all ahahahah, im gonna make you cry just because I know you have spent hours and hours working on it._

_Not only that but the next time you open I am gonna crash your computer knowing that you cant even format the computer because you don't even have the system discs._

And I cried and cried.

And I doubt it will be as good as what I wrote so its gonna be pretty sub par. sorry

On to the story.

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Waking up confused and disgruntled was something I was very used to, however waking up on a soft comfortable mattress, warm and fully rested was something I was very unused to. Sitting up quickly I threw off the heavy quilt and looked out over the room I was dazed my mind not working properly after the first _real _sleep that I could ever remember having.

Looking around the room things started to become much clearer many things started to come back to me… Magic.

"YES!" flopping back onto the bed I completely relaxed into firm mattress, for once enjoying the sensation of being in bed, no longer cramped or cold, but warm and fully stretched out. Even the air smelled cleaner being away from the Dursley's, that could be though because Dudley only showers bi-monthly, lord knows why, the rare showers I ever had at the Dursley's I always savored.

Unlike the sitting room I was in before with McGonagall, this room had no portraits of people but held a large canvas of a corn field above a lone desk and chair. Looking to my sides I could see a bedside table with a glass of water and a large clock.

Refusing to let panic seize me at seeing the time, _9:28, _I just told myself that I was away from the Dursley's, did not have to get up at the crack of dawn, to make a feast for them, already clean the sterile house hold, the peace was an amazing feeling that compared to no other emotion I have ever felt.

Soon though the stillness, and the laziness go too much and I hoped out of bed and found that I still had my shoes on. Feeling my cheeks heat, I took them off and pulled back the sheets. Seeing dirt stains on the bed my cheeks started to burn. Looking around the plain room I noticed a second door and moved to open it.

Seeing a complete bathroom inside, with a bath and counter top, I smiled and headed inside already taking off my clothes ready for a good long soak. Sitting down on the toilet I was greeted by a warm seat, which made me jump none the less.

Finishing my business on the toilet I looked around for some toilet paper but couldn't find any. Looking around nervously I jumped and screamed when a cold wet sensation run along the inside of my cheeks. Turning around I heard the sound of a flush and a gurgle, and a pleasant smell filled the room.

Shifting on my feet I walked over to the mirror and turned away from it, looking behind me, I pried apart my cheeks and saw the site of an eerily _clean _buttock.

Spinning around I could see the blood rushing to my cheeks… the ones of my face in embarrassment and quickly hope into the shower. I got another surprise as cold water started pouring down onto my body.

"COLD, COLD!" screaming did not seem to help much, it even seemed to make the situation worse, making the water even colder, "HOT, make I hot!" sighing in delight I could feeling the water starting to heat up. It wasn't long before the water started to get to hot.

With many more shouts at the shower head the water soon stabilized at a comfortable warm, standing under the water, for lord knows how long the comfort it gave me was something else I have never had before. The showers at the Dursley's never lasted more than a couple of minutes and consisted of furious scrubbing and uncomfortable cold.

After forcing myself to stay under the water I looked up at the showerhead confused and decided to just step out of the shower. As soon as I was out of the way the water stopped streaming down.

Taking a heated towel off of a rack I dried myself hurriedly before putting my clothes back on, used to them being dirty.

Striding back out of the bathroom I looked at the clock and saw it was almost eleven o'clock, and I could tell an embarrassing blush reappeared on my face. Not sure what to do, I went and sat at the table and just stared at the field of corn watching the storks sway in the wind. It was just as a stork broke and fell to the ground that I noticed that my wand was in my pocket.

Taking it out I laid it down on the table and slowly removed the socks covering it until it was bare on the table top. Stealing myself I breathed deeply and closed my eyes and focused all of my thoughts solely on the wand.

Picking up the wand I sighed in contentment I felt the sensation of the 'waves' inside myself and concluded that it must be my magic. It was filling me up fusing deeply with my body making every cell in my body sing. I could feel the air tingle in my lungs as I breathed even deeper.

Holding myself in that state so many more things started to register in my mind, and in particular a sort of 'itch' at the front of my brain, shaking my head around to relive the situation, I lost some focus and the sensation got even worse. Turning my head down, I could feel the 'itch' shift until it was on top of my head.

Moving my head around it moved around with my head, until it always stayed in the same spot in relativity to my head. Turning towards it with my eyes still closed until it started to itch behind my eyes; I opened them and saw a field of corn.

This time it was much different though, a soft pink light seemed to encompass the whole picture frame, the colors even seemed. Blinking my eyes, I tried to focus more on it and it became even clearer, the pink light sharpened, I could see lines going through the pictures and they reminded me of the lines I saw outside of the leaky cauldron.

What could it be, could it be magic. Was I seeing magic, the magic that made the picture move in that way? Focusing more heavily on it, instead of the lights growing brighter they seemed to dull and weaken.

Closing my eyes, the sensation inside of me was different as well, it was like a whirlpool now, sucking something in, something pink. It stopped all of a sudden and I opened my eyes and looked back at the picture.

The light was gone, there were no more pink lines, and the picture was no longer moving. I could see another stork of corn halfway falling over and I was shocked, I knew what happened; I suck the magic right out of the pictures, just like outside of the pub, but this time it didn't hurt.

I could remember Tom saying that the wards were weaker, but it hurt then, why not now. There were a lot were colors and lights outside the pub though, could it be that it hurt because there was just so much more of it.

I was broken out of my thoughts when there was a knock on the door. Quickly wrapping up the wand again inside the socks I moved over to the door and flung it over to be greeted to the site of a very stern McGonagall. Today she was dressed in one of the gown's again but this time it was a plain black, and she had a crooked pointed hat on her head.

"Hello Professor"

"Hello Harry, I am sorry for keeping you waiting for so long but I had to some things first, why don't we go have some lunch and we can talk a little more?"

Not waiting for a response she turned around and started heading down the aisle, quickly rushing around the bed I pulled on my tattered shoes and rushed to the door, not before grabbing the key and locking the door.

McGonagall was waiting just outside the door she gave me a tight smile and waved her hand behind her. Walking behind her we arrived at the same sitting room we were in the day before. On the table there were too plates there, with a number of thick steaming sandwiches and a big bowl of chips.

"Go on Harry I know you must be hungry."

Rushing around I sat down behind one of the plate setting and picking up a half a sandwich and stuffed almost all of it in my mouth. I looked up at McGonagall and blush seeing the smile on her face. Holding my hand in front of my mouth I chewed down my mouthful before looking up at McGonagall.

"Eat up Harry we will talk after you are full."

Giving her a smile I dove into my food with just as much gusto, occasionally stuffing a chip or two into my mouth. After finishing my meal I looked up to see that McGonagall had not even touched her meal and was staring at me with a small smile.

"Um… Professor I'm finished." I looked down feeling slightly embarrassed and not sure what to do.

"It seems that you are Harry. Did you have any questions at the moment?"

"Not really Professor."

"Okay, well seeing as you no knowledge of how our world works would you like me to explain the basics?"

Giving her a nod I looked up through my long fringe and gave her my full attention.

"There is one matter that I want to discuss with you before we talk though, it is very important concerning you." The Professor put her tea cup back on the table and shifted in her seat until she was perched on the edge of the seat with a straight back. "What do you know of your parents Harry?"

The things that Aunt Petunia told me flashed before my eyes, that they were no good drunks that got themselves killed in a car accident. But with the way that McGonagall was looking at me the words were stuck in my throat. Shaking my head I hunched in on myself and looked deeply in McGonagall's eyes for a brief moment before looking down.

"You look a lot like your father did you know that Harry? You have your mother's beautiful eyes though." Shaking my head a warm feeling settled around my heart, I looked like my parents, the thought made me smile. I could see McGonagall sigh before taking a deep breath.

"Harry to understand the importance of things I am going to tell you a little bit about some history okay? Many years ago the wizarding world was in turmoil, we were at war with the forces of darkness and evil. There was an evil wizard by the name of V…Voldermort, and he was so feared that people feared to even say his name, calling him You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Your Parent's, James and Lily Potter, were in the fight against him in a group called the Order of the Phoenix.

The Order was the one thing that stood in You-Know-Who's way of taking control of Britain, and it was this reason that your Parent's were in serious danger. You-Know-Who would search for the members of the order and hunt them down. On Halloween night nearly eleven years ago he attacked your home at Godric's Hallow. When he broke into your house he killed your parents before turning his wand on you.

There was a spell, an unforgivable spell that killed whom ever it was cast upon and there is no way to defend against it, but when he cast that spell on you Harry, something wonderful happened. Not only did it now work but the curse rebounded off of you and struck down the very man who looked to kill you. All that everyone knows is that he cast that spell and died, and all you got was a scar," she reached up and moved my fringe my fringe away revealing my scar, "in the shape of a lightning bolt."

"I… I don't know… what does it mean." My voice was shaky shocked from the surreal tale that she had spun.

"It means Harry that you saved us, you saved the wizarding world, and everyone knows your did. In our world you are know as Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, and Savior of the Wizarding world. You're famous Harry, more famous than Merlin himself to some people, you are a hero in the flesh, people in this day and age can say they lived in the Generation of Harry Potter when they tell their children of your deeds; you are not a story to them from some ancient text, but a real hero living among them.

Children grew up hearing the tale of your life Harry, your name can be heard in the houses of every family in the wizarding world, and now that you are going to Hogwarts, everyone is going to have their eyes fixed on _you._"

Staring at her dumbly I tried to really comprehend what she was saying, how could I be so famous? I tried to accept what she was saying but I could not grasp it, people from the whole world knew my name before I even did. I just couldn't understand what was going on and just stared at the table top mesmerized by the grain in the wood.

"Do not worry Harry, you might not believe but when people find out your name, or even catch a _glimpse _of your scar… how they will react I do not know but you must be prepared for it, and understand why they will act around you Okay."

"Okay." The single word was hard to get out but casting it out from my mind I focused on other thoughts. "Do you know why I went to live with the Dursley's then, if everyone knows me?"

"Professor Dumbledore thought it best for you to grow up away from the fame, so you could have a normal childhood. But sadly that was a horribly idea." Staring at her only one thing went through my mind _Dumbledore _thought it was best, who was he to decide what was best for me, he is just a damn school teacher. I could feel the hate shifting, all the hate I had just shifted to one person Dumbledore.

"Now Harry, you must understand Dumbledore had no idea that they would treat you like that, you must understand it is not his fault." Hearing her say that did not change anything, it was Dumbledore's fault surely I could've been raised away from the Dursley's they know I was a wizard so why was I not living with a wizarding family for all these years, it's not like they didn't know I was a wizard. It was his fault I decided it was all Albus Dumbledore's fault.

Shaking my head I tried to clear my thoughts and tried to think of what else I could think of. "Can we go shopping for my school stuff now Professor?" chuckling she gave me a smile before standing.

"Of course Harry, but first we must visit Gringots and see what your parents left you after their death."

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Walking into Gringots I gasped at the site of the white shiny marble walls and pillars, and the gold veins that run through them, and even more at the strange creatures that sat behind desks and guarded the entrance to the bank. McGonagall told me they were goblins but they were so much smaller than I would have guess, only about five feet and squat, with a dark brown skin, sharp teeth pointed noses and sharp black eyes.

"Next!" shouted one of the goblins at a desk and we moved towards him with McGonagall pulling me behind her.

"Good afternoon, I have with me a young man who wishes to visit his vault" McGonagall said in a stern and somewhat strained voice, looking at the creatures with distaste that was similar to the way that my relatives looked at me, but hardly this contained.

"Key" was the simple reply from the Goblin, reaching into her robes McGonagall took out a small golden key and handed it over to the small creature. The goblin snatched the key out of her hand and placed it inside a marked box on the table top. I could not see what happened next but there were a series of clicks before he handed back the key.

"GRIPHOOK! Take these two to vault, 687" the goblin shouted, soon an even smaller goblin came over and ushered us over to a wall with a number of holes in them.

"Please step into the cart humans" the goblin said with a similar distaste to the way McGonagall spoke to the goblin at the counter. Seeing as McGonagall stepped into an empty cart and sat down, and followed and sat down next to her. The goblin named Griphook went and sat in front of the cart and soon we were shot back into our seats as the cart shot down into a tunnel.

Gripping to the sides of the cart I begun to feel queasy the unexpected movement shifted all the recently consumed food right into my throat. After a couple minutes the cart stopped with a jarring halt.

"Vault 687" the goblin said with a sneer. McGonagall stepped out of the cart seeming no the worse for wear except for a few stray hairs that escaped her tight bun. Following out of the cart and wobbled a little on the stable ground before releasing a deep breath feeling instantly better.

Walking up to McGonagall she handed me they key and stepped back.

"Go on Harry open your vault." She gave me a smile as she talked and gestured to the large vault door that was worked into the cavern wall. Looking at it the door was arched and seemed to be made of the same substance as the walls around it with thick metal hinges. Moving next to the door I located the ridiculously tiny key hole in the door and inserted and twisted the key.

The door swung open easily revealing vast stacks of coins.

"Wow!" I was stunned there was just so much of it, large cold coins, smaller silver ones as well as tiny bronze coins, all heaped into huge stacks. Images from a cartoon came to my mind of a cartoon character swimming in a pool of money, and almost felt the need to it for myself.

"Now Harry," McGonagall spoke from just outside the vault door and her gazed softened when I looked at her. "you do not need too much money for your shopping and seeing you will be staying here in Diagon alley you can always come back for more. Now the large cold coins are called Galleons, and are the most expensive currency in the wizarding world, the silver ones are Sickles and seventeen Sickles make a Galleon, finally the bronze coins are called Knuts, and twenty-nine Knuts make a Sickle.

I suggest you take about two hundred Galleons, that should take care of today's shopping and the rest of your stay here in Diagon Alley, then get maybe about another fifty Galleons changed into muggle money okay?" her tone was slightly tense and I could see the goblin Griphook standing close behind her, turning around she addressed the goblin. "Goblin, what is the current exchange rate for Galleons to pounds?"

"Five pounds, fifty-four pence to the Galleon, human, with a five Galleon exchange rate fee."

Nodding her head she pointed to one wall where a number of pouches were located.

"Use one of those pouches for the Galleons Harry, and we will get something for your muggle money later." Taking off a plain black pouch, I rushed to one of the large gold piles and quickly as I could counted out two hundred galleons, picking up the pouch I expected it to be heavy but it was surprisingly light, going over to the wall again I took off a grey pouch this time and counted out fifty galleons into it.

Rushing over to McGonagall with the two pouches she smiled at me before swinging the large vault door shut and locking it. As we climbed back into the cart she handed me the vault key and I put it into my pocket.

When we reached the lobby again after the cart ride I felt less sick knowing what to expect and quite enjoyed the ride. Griphook pointed out a smaller section with a sign over the top saying _Muggle Inquiries _with only one person in line. By the time we arrived over the counter the other man was gone and we walked right up to a teller.

"What do you want?" the goblin said hastily and McGonagall gave it a sneer.

"Yes we would like to exchange some galleons into pounds." She turned to me expectantly and I realized she wanted the money. Handing over the surprisingly light grey pouch over to her she handed it over to the goblin who placed it onto a pair of scales and tapped a button.

"Fifty galleons, exchange rate five pounds, fifty-four pence to the galleon, with a fee of five galleons, total comes to two hundred forty-nine pounds, thirty pence. Have a nice day." The goblin rattled off the information before handing over a clip full of notes and a small number of coins.

McGonagall quickly counted the money in the clip and I noticed a number of fifty pound notes, as well as some twenties. Its was now I truly grasped how rich I was, I had in my possession almost two hundred and fifty quid, and I had over four times that amount in wizarding money. The amount I took out of the vault did not even make a visible dent in the vast piles of money.

"I'm rich!" McGonagall turned to look at me strangely.

"Very rich Harry, you just came to this conclusion now, even after seeing the amount of money piled into your vault?" although she said it with a smile, there was a tired and worn out expression on her face which I saw many of the teachers at my old school direct and Dudley when ever he trough a temper tantrum at school.

"Sorry… It just didn't click."

"Yes well, let us get onto our shopping for the day shall we? Let us first get yourself a trunk, I know a store where you will get a good deal which will save us a lot of trouble and time, and seeing as you told me so, you are rich so the price will certainly not deter you will it now."

Just nodding at her I could tell she was getting a little over work and fell instep behind her with my head down. With my head down looking at the ground I could not really take notice of all the other shops but I saw many different shops, one which even seemed to sell brooms, and one that reeked of old eggs and had barrels of weird things out the front, soon McGonagall stopped walking and I almost collided into her.

"Come along Harry we can get almost everything from in here." She pointed to a store behind her with a sign in red on white name the store as _Diagon Alley Surplus Supplies. _Following McGonagall into the store I could a number of other customers as well as two men in matching robes.

McGonagall stopped before a display with two trunks on a raised platform with a sign over head.

_Diagon Alley Surplus Supplies, Specialty School Trunk._

_95 Galleons, 11 Sickles, and 28 Knuts._

_Easy to use dual compartment Trunk featuring-_

_Standard level security and comfort charms including anti-theft and jinx, weight reducing, stabilizing and more._

_A choice of three woods, Oak, painted Cedar, or Mahogany_

_Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_Set of glass phials_

_Telescope_

_Set of brass scales_

_Standard school set of potions ingrediants_

_Set course books for given year_

_Set of Protective dragon hide gloves_

_10 discount voucher for Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions_

Looking at the trunks they seemed to look the same but their contents were much different, in the one of the left, there seemed to be everything mentioned on the list neatly packed into the trunk, and now I could see a small dial where the lock was with a number one showing.

The second trunk seemed to have a closet coming out of the trunk with a number of spare coat hangers inside the open doors and a number of draws on the bottom of the closet.

"Are you happy buying this trunk Harry, it has everything you need for the coming year, except for your wand and clothes, but they will be our next stop." Giving her a nod she moved over to what I guess was one of the workers and pointed over to me. he looked over at me before giving McGonagall a nod and walked over to me with a big fake smile.

"How can I help you little man?"

"Um, hello I would like to buy of you specialty trunks?" my got a curious high lint at my question but the man just gave me a smile.

"Okay, now what wood would you like it in, what we have on display is the mahogany, but with oak, or painted cedar, where you can get any color you want really."

Looking over at the trunk I can seem some pretty basic designs around the feet of the trunk as well as the lip and lock, but it looked very nice so I decided on the mahogany.

"The Mahogany sir."

"Cool, now all I need is your initials, and a twenty galleon deposit."

"H.P" opening my pouch I reached in and started counting out twenty galleons before giving them to the man.

"Okay come back in about half an hour, that should give you enough time to head over to Madam Malkin's, get fitted for you robes, come back here pick up your trunk, head back over their and use the voucher for you robes."

Giving the man a small smile and a nod, he moved away and was replaced by McGonagall.

"Come along off to get you fitted for your robes" falling in behind hind her we more or less crossed from one side of the alley to the other before opening the door to another shop, one I could only guess was Madam Malkin's.

"Ah Minerva, how good to see you again what can I do for you today?"

"Yes young Harry needs to be fitted for his Hogwarts robes and uniform, winter cloak as well please, and add another robe." Turning her stern gaze to me I looked down slightly and peeked a glance at Madam Malkin to see a plump woman in a dress with a wide skirt.

"Well come here Harry, come round threw the back and I will get you fitted. What fabric should I use Minerva?"

"Egyptian Cotton for the robes dear, make sure he has a thick cloak, with the usual charm work please."

The two woman continued to discuss something concerning the robes but I was lost to their conversation and looked around the room to see bolts of many different cloths lining the walls, and a number of moving mannequins showing off some dresses and robes.

"Move your legs apart a little Harry, there's a good boy." Said Madam Malkin with a detached voice as she moved a number of tape measures around taking my measurements. "I am going to fit you with a robe now so don't fidget or I might pin you."

She took down a large smock shaped piece of black cloth with a number of white lines around it, she made quick work of pinning it around me and as it took a semblance of shaped she pulled it off and I could see a bolt of black cloth suddenly spinning it self off of the wall.

"You're done dear, meet me at the counter." Walking back to the front of the store I could see McGonagall sitting down reading a magazine with a picture on the front, but she soon put it down and stood up. "Now four robes of Egyptian cotton, warming and resizing charms, four sets of the school uniform, slacks, shirts, ties, vests, one hat, and one winter cloak. Total comes to… forty-eight galleons, three sickles, and nineteen knuts, with the discount from the trunk and it is… forty-three galleons, twelve sickles and six knuts."

"We will pay when we come back with the trunk my dear."

"Well of course Minerva, the robes won't be done for another half hour or so."

"Come along Harry." As McGonagall guided me out of the store Madam Malkin had one last question.

"Wait, Minerva what's the boy's last name to sew into the robes?" McGonagall looked down at me moved to the side so I could see Malkin and spoke one word and all pandemonium broke out.

"Potter"

"WHAT! Oh my… I just measured up Mr. Potter's robes… don't worry about the price dear I will cover it." She rushed out behind the counter and run to the door where she took up my hand and started to really shake it up and down. "Oh my, it was a pleasure servicing you Mr. Potter." McGonagall choked a little bit for some reason, I'm not too sure and suddenly the seamstress let go of my hand and blushed a bright red. "I will see you when you pick up your robes!" she squeaked out before rushing back into her store.

When we fully out of the store McGonagall started walking in a different direction to the supplies store but soon stopped a couple of stores up and turned to look at me.

"Now Harry, getting your first wand is a very personally experience," I could see she rubbed her hand over a wand on her hip before looking back at me. "so I am going to leave you, and while you get your wand I will pick up your trunk and robes, and will wait out here for you. Now give me your money purse, and take out fifteen galleons, and give it to me. I will see you in a little while."

As she walked back the way we came I turned around and looked at the store behind me, the store seemed very dusty, and the was a single wand on a purple cushion in the front window. The store was called _Ollivander's Fine Wands._ Opening the door I stepped into the empty store and was surprised that the interior was just as dusty as the outside.

"Mr. Potter, I was wondering when I would see you." A voice spoke from behind me making me jump and spin around to be greeted by the site of a slouched old man with wild hair and electric blue eyes.

"Who are you?" I tried to sound confident but was voice was just shaky.

"Why I am Ollivander fine wand crafter for many years now. I image you are here for your wand are you not? Good hold out your wand arm." Doing what he said I held out my right arm and suddenly a tape measure was there measuring me all by itself as Ollivander moved behind the counter and into a number of shelves which I could now see were filled with small narrow boxes.

"Try this one, twelve inches vine, dragon heart string, very springy, good for charms." Taking the wand in my arm I was very surprised when I felt nothing, and was nervous and angry that I forgot all about how I reacted to the wand I already had. "Well give it a wave." The wand crafter spoke in a condescending way and it made me angry so when I waved the wand boxes suddenly flew from the shelves and landed all over the shop.

"No not your wand." He took the wand out of my had and pick up a wand case by his feet and looked at the side of it before opening it up, "Here nine inches, oak, sturdy, with unicorn hair." When I grasped this I immediately let it goes as a painful shock went through my arm.

"Painful or pleasant Mr. Potter?"

"Painful"

"Well it was obviously not that one." Frowning at the cheerfulness in his voice, I decided I did not like Mr. Ollivander not a bit. The time flew by as Mr. Ollivander made me try many different wands, there seemed to be no science at all behind the choosing of the wands, but eventually my nerves were running thin and thoughts of the wand in my pocket kept flashing in my mind. Why did I not just tell him straight away about it? But when Mr. Ollivander came out of the shelves again his was walking slowly with another wand box in his hand muttering darkly to himself, and I decided I did _not _want to try that wand.

"Mr. Ollivander what if… what if someone already had a wand?" he was only a couple of steps away from me now and he looked at me sharply before snapping the box in his hands closed with a loud crack that made me wince.

"Show me." the sternness in his voice made me obey and I took out the wand in my pocket socks and all. When he saw the socks his eye brows raised but soon took it gently out of my hands. As he peeled the socks away and grasped the handle I could see him wince before he overcame it and held the wand in front of his eyes and smelled it.

"twelve and half inches… oak? No red oak… no core as yet, two core chambers… interesting… there is blood? Who's what's? I cannot tell… something else… nothing I have ever seen before but what is it!" he held the wand down by his waist and was rolling it between his palms.

"Tell me Mr. Potter, where did you get this wand? What kind of blood is in it? And what I pray tell is this something else?" he placed the wand on the counter and looked at me with a much more serious expression on his face than I have seen on him before.

"I was in the woods, in a tree. There was a storm and this bugs with long sharp claws, that cut my hand and started digging into the tree, and when I tried to grab it out one of them slashed my palm open and my blood poured all over it, it glowed and I held it up and was struck by lightning!" I was excited about telling him all about my wand and when I told him about the lightning his eyes grew wide.

"I have heard about druids of old, into nature they go and the earth herself grants them with a wand, but never in all my years have I seen something like this. Lightning yes… it must be the something else… but no cores? Come Mr. Potter we will complete your wand together."

He picked up the wand and hurried behind the shelves motioning for me to follow. As I walked through the shelves, I could see the boxes taking a different shape become bigger and wider, with labels on them from al of the mythical creatures I have ever heard of and a lot I haven't heard of. There were also blocks of many different woods.

"Mister Potter I must say I have never made a custom wand for one so young and I have only made a wand with more than one core for three people before you. It is very rare to find a wizard whose core can work seamlessly with more than one core, powerful wands they make, but to find two cores to work together and do not fight against each other will be quite a task."

To say I was stunned, not only was my wand different from anyone else's, it was the only meant to exist in stories, and wizards _were _a fantasy. But to find out again that there were only three other people with two cores… I felt special, unique something that never happened with the Dursley's, they only ever made me feel like a freak.

"Now I want you to walk along that back wall and hold your hand over each of the cores on that table and tell me if they respond to you in any way. Make sure to touch each one, it will help your undeveloped magic to connect to the cores to see if they will respond to you."

Following his instructions I did what he said and walked along a work table where there were close to fifty different cores, some looked like hairs, and feathers, but some I had no idea what they were. Touching each of them I let my hand linger on them to see if my magic would respond like Ollivander said, most felt like nothing like they were just ornaments, some sent painful shocks through my system, but finally two cores sent a warm shiver down my spine, one was a bright red feather, and another what looked almost like a razor.

Taking the two over to Ollivander, when I had both in my hands it almost made me trip, they did not feel so nice anymore, quickly moving to Ollivander I put them on the table he was at.

"Ah, the Phoenix Feather and Bowtreckles Claw, both powerful vessels of nature."

"Mr. Ollivander when I held them both it made me kind of sick, but by themselves they felt nice."

"Well it seems that these two do want to work together, but do not worry Harry, I have more that one sample of any core. Wait here I will get some more samples." And that he did he came back with three large boxes and put them on the table before heading back into the shelves and bringing out two more boxes. He opened them up and spread them all over the table.

"Now, I want you to go over the Bowtruckle claws and find the one that reacts the best to you." I repeated the process touching all the claws, all of them sent a warm tingle down my spine before I came upon one that was darker and a little longer than the rest, when I laid my hand over this one I could tell it was the one, I got the same sensation when I help the wand, I could feel the ocean inside me and the waves swirling around. Dropping it I turned around and smiled at Ollivander.

"Found it, it's that one" pointing it out Ollivander looked at it and hummed deep in his throat.

"I remember that one, one of the few that I found in the wilderness, he gave me quite a cut." Now I want you to hold it in one hand, and touch each of the feathers." Picking up the claw I sighed deeply getting used to the feeling inside of me and touched the first feather in my reach, as soon as I touched it the peace inside of was shattered and I felt slightly sick. With each of the feathers it broke the ocean inside of me, but only a few made me sick. But the time I touched the last one on the table al I had gotten was a swirling stomach and a slight headache.

"Mr. Ollivander none of them worked, what should I do?" he looked at me for a moment then at the feathers, and finally at the wand box he brought with him into the back room. He moved to it and took out the wand. Moving over to a bare piece if bench space he took out his own wand and started mumbling. Soon the other wand was floating in midair and was spinning and stretching until a gold and red feather slowly begun to come out of the wand. When the feather was finally separated from the wand he picked it up and placed it next to the other feathers.

"Try that one Mr. Potter." He sounded tired and weary but his eyes shone brightly. Reaching down I picked up the claw again and felt the ocean deep inside of me and touched the gold and red feather. When I did I think I groaned but was not sure as my mind was blasted with a kaleidoscope of colors and sensation and the ocean inside of me seemed to break out into a storm.

Eventually the storm calmed and my mind slowly returned to the outside world to see that the work tables had been pushed back and Mr. Ollivander's hair was had an even wilder look to it, and a huge smile on his face. I could feel a dying wind in my hair and looked around the room to see everything out of place from it was last, and many things on the floor.

"Sorry" even though I truly was I could not keep the smile off of my face.

"Not to worry Harry, let us finish your wand and I will tell you all about the cores that you have chosen." Moving over to the wand on the table as I got closer I got feel the cores in my hand begin to vibrate, when I was one step away I saw the cores jump out of my hand, twirl around each other and shoot into the two holes in the back of the wand.

Both Ollivander and myself gasped loudly at the way the cores moved and as the end closed over the wand's end, slowly containing the wand's cores I quickly grasped the wand in my hand.

The feeling I felt now was nothing compared to what I felt now, it was unbelievably intense, I could feel my legs shaking, and the air was pushed out of lungs, but my mind was singing, I could identify everything in my head I could feel of the cores on the floor and the table tops, in the wands in the shelves, and Ollivander, the tightly compacted mass of energy of magic that was Ollivander was slightly frightening, he was as bright as the sun and just as hot, he seemed to be swelling in size, the energy focusing into a point, and suddenly I knew no more.

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Waking up groggy and confused was the usual for me, but having someone above you waving a wand in your face is very confusing.

"Mr. Ollivander what happened?"

"You were destroying my shop young Mr. Potter, I could have that now, so I stunned you, I have never in all my years seen a reaction quite like that when someone first opens the connection to their magic. Take hold of you wand now mister Potter I want to see what will happen."

Feeling slightly nervous now, I could see the destruction around the shop, the floor was slightly burnt, there were some scorch marks on an over turned table and one of the shelves seemed to have tipped over.

Seeing the wand by my side I picked it up and again felt the ocean more complete than it has ever felt before, but I was not sucked out of the world and I could see all the magic around the place and had to blink back tears when I looked at Ollivander, it really was like looking into the sun.

"Excellent Mr. Potter, now to tell you about your wand and cores, first is your blood, this will make sure you, and only you will ever be able to use this wand, or one of your descendants, secondly the Bowtruckle claw, a contradiction in itself you see cores tend to lean to a certain branch of magic and leave on side lopsided, in most case it leans to the persons strength, but the Bowtruckle claw is power for conjurations and transfiguring, but also on defense charms and warding, these two branches in the scales of magic are quite opposite to each other, but it will create a powerful wand.

Now most curious is the Phoenix feather, or more specifically _that _feather. I remember every wand I have ever sold Mr. Potter, and more importantly to whom I sold them to, and the Phoenix that gave the feather for the core in your wand, gave me one other, and that feather gave you that scar. Very curious indeed, the Phoenix feather though is a very balance core and reactions very heavily to emotions, making it powerful wand."

Frowning over the discovery that I was somehow connected to the bastard who killed my parents I still could not help but fell elated for my wand, and my magic, it feels so much calmer and in control now, much more peaceful.

"How can I repay you Mister Ollivander…? I mean I destroyed your shop! I can pay you what ever you want I mean it." Unsure of how he will react seeing the destruction I wrought in his shop and hoping he won't take my wand away.

"Well Harry… seeing as how there are two, cores in your wand… I will have to charge you for the price of two wands, so that's fourteen galleons and I will even give you a wand holster for your wand."

"But what about your shop! Fourteen galleons will hardly cover the damage!"

"Do not worry Mr. Potter, what do you think we have magic for, run along now, Minerva is waiting for you outside." Not staying to talk I quickly pulled out all the galleons in my pockets and run for the door forgetting completely about McGonagall.

Bursting from the shop I almost collided with McGonagall who was standing outside the shop with a mahogany trunk next to her leg.

"Careful where you are going Mr. Potter, I trust with the amount of time you spent in there you have found a wand for yourself Harry?" just giving her a nod I followed her in a daze, dragging my new trunk behind me.

Soon we were back in the Simmering Pot, where McGonagall used some of my money to pay for the rest of my stay until the school starts, she then went onto talk about studying before arriving at school but I hardly listened, so when she handed me my key to the room and told me to put my trunk in my room. She also said she would come see me in three days time and would talk more about the wizarding world.

Soon after arriving in my room I was dead to the world sleeping with my wand clasped in my hands.

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i am actually pretty proud... sorry about the bad grammer and stuff and just didn't have the patience to read through it, but i am willing to have a beta... u knwo... if u want.

i was not lying when i said eleven thousand words before, it just i cut some shit out cause i didnt have the patience to write it again, i have McGonagall talk about hogwarts as well, in particular the housing system and the teachers.

i also had harry visit everyshop insteed of ur one stop shop for everything and to be honest it worked out for the best, it pretty boring to read about him going around shopping for stuff so its cool. i think the wand scene and ending are better on this one though, but the grammer and flow of the pther was proberbly much better. again sorry.

PEACE OUT!

WILLING PEN.

please leave a real review... i will throw in some smut for you... just for you... not slash... so against slash... mainly cause they out number hetro fics 10 to 1... nough said.


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Harry Potter, Adventure, Romance