I own only that of which I have invented.

Buzz... Buzz... Buzz...

CRASH

Buzz... Buzz...

BOOM

The young man opened his eyes and looked at where the nightstand should have been. He already knew from the crash that the lamp was lying on the floor in pieces. Knocked over in his attempt to shut off the alarm clock. But that was nothing compared to the nightstand or what was left of it, which wasn't much.

'I really have to get better control of that…', Harry thought to himself. Looking at the slightly smoking pieces of wood and the scorch marks on the wall.

After sighing to himself at the seemingly unstoppable pattern that his mornings seemed to start with, he repaired the table and lamp with a flick of his wrist. Looking around his room he wondered if it was all worth it in the end. Here he was at the age of 16 he was wealthy and held in high regard by many of the worlds aristocracy both magical and mundane. In the end though he was quite alone, well that's no true he had Ann of course. Ann was his cook, maid, and about everything else that he or she could think of. In short she was his mother of sorts. She was his only source of love and affection, his only true vestige of family.

Rolling out of bed he walked to his bathroom for a nice long shower. Stepping into the bathroom was like walking into another world. The room responded to a mere though on his part, 'Tropics' and just like that the whole room was transformed from the white Italian marble with solid gold accents to a beautiful beach with a waterfall a small ways up the beach. After taking a nice relaxing shower under the waterfall Harry pictured the room in its original form and was once again standing in his Italian villa style bathroom.

Wrapping a towel around his waste he stepped out of the room to head for his closet. Stepping into his closet, which was more like a department store with every type of clothing imaginable he found a pair of black slacks and a ribbed black Armani muscle shirt. Sitting on his bed and pulling on his black shoes Harry couldn't help but think he forgot something. Giving up on trying to figure out what he had forgotten he headed for the bedchamber door. Reaching out to turn the golden handle, he was startled when it turned of its own accord...

WAM...

The door flew open colliding with his forehead and propelling him back wards to land in a heap on the floor in front of the closet doors. Reaching up he felt an egg beginning to form where the door had made itself know to his skull. He looked up at the person standing in the open doorway. It was his only true confidant Ann Wright.

With a look around the room her eyes caught on the bedside table that Harry had fixed. Wondering what she was looking at Harry followed here line of sight and realized with a sigh that he had left the scorch mark on the wall. "Harold James Potter. What have I told you about blowing up your God Damn Bloody Furniture?" she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Punctuating each couple of words with a poke from her rolling pin that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. "And what are you doing sitting in front of the bloody door?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Good morning Ann." Replied Harry heaving himself back up to his feet. "How are you this morning?" he continued. Not waiting for an answer Harry walked out of his room and down the hall to the grand staircase that led from the 3rd floor where his bedroom was located down to the second and first stories of his West Shire manor. After making it to the first floor he traipsed his way into the kitchen. Going to the cabinet above the main sink he pulled out the aspirin and a glass, which he filled with water.

"Harry dear did you wake up with a headache again?" said Ann's worried voice, as she entered the kitchen from the back entrance. Harry and Ann had met 8 year earlier. Ann had worked for his family on and off her whole life, now at the age of 48 she worked for Harry full time, choosing to travel with him and stay close rather than settle down in one of the many homes Harry had offered her.

FLASH BACK

Harry was not a normal child by any stretch of the imagination. He spent the first 8 years of his life in an orphanage, with over 50 other children of which he was the smallest. Until one day at the age of 8 he decided that he was tired of being bullied by the other bigger children while their 'care takers' did nothing to stop the abuse. That same night he left the orphanage and never looked back. That was eight years ago and Harry hasn't regretted leaving in the slightest.

Harry had at first tried to live on the streets but that was a tough life for a smaller than average 8 year old. He did ok for a while but with the start of winter and cold nights he became sick after the first night he began to cough up blood. By the second night he was delirious and running a high fever, but it was on the third night of his sickness that he knew he was going to die. But still he wished that he had a home and some one to love him and with just a thought he was transported from the slums of London to the coast of Spain. More precisely to Sharp Thorne Bastille.

Upon arriving the house elfs of the property were notified of the presence of their master and set out to greet him. What they found shocked and dismayed them there was Harry Potter their master unconscious on the front steps. Not having the medical training that they would need to heal Harry the elfs sent for Ann Wright an old family friend who was also a Healer.

Finding that Harry had no one to take care of him Ann decided that she would take up the task herself and had been by his side ever since.

End Flash Back

After recovering from his illness, Harry discovered that he was the heir to the Potter fortune and soon found that he was not only the heir to Potter but quite a few other names as well.

Things went well with Harry going to a prestigious private academy in Northern Wales. School provided little challenge for Harry and he subsequently skipped quiet a few grades and graduated in the top 2 percent of his class at the age of 14. He also took up weapons lessons finding it a good way to relieve stress. Now at the age of sixteen he was a proficient user of the sword and staff, but he truly excelled at the use of throwing knives and unarmed combat.

Even having started training in the use of magic at the age of 10 Harry still had trouble controlling the vast reservoirs of power that he had at his disposal and tried to keep a tight hold on it but some time it got away from him, but he worked hard at it so that he could practice his favorite type of magic, Harry calls it Magic Engineering. It combines engineering, Ancient Runes and Harry's own magic to make a number of different items.

Today was July 31, 1996 Harry's 16th birthday. Sitting down at the kitchen table he poured himself a glass of orange juice, to go along with the eggs, beacon and sausage Ann had already made. Taking a sip from the glass he realizes that Ann had slipped out of the room when he was lost in thought. He looked over at Ann as she re-entered the kitchen caring a wrapped box.

Setting it down in front of Harry she looks at him expectantly with a raised eyebrow. Finally giving in as he sees her reaching for what he suspects is a rolling pin he slowly opens the wrapped gift. Inside is thick leather bound book, across the front in glittering gold lettering, 'Stone of Power, Construction and Implementation'. With a gasp Harry whispers almost to quietly for Ann to hear, "Where did you find this? It was said to have been lost to the ages.", with a smile Ann replied. "I am of course the sole remaining member of the Most Ancient and Innovative House of Wright after the passing of my dear husband Archibald. It was in the family vault."

Before Harry could reply there was a tap at the window. Sitting just outside the window was a smug looking barn owl. Ann went over to the window and let it in. Turning to Harry she said, "It would appear that you have a letter." As the bird glided over to where Harry was sitting. Detaching the letter from the owl's leg and offering it a saucer of water and some bacon. With the owl taken care of Harry opened the letter and found that it was from his Gringotts solicitor.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I am happy to report that your request for an appointment with the muggle Prime Minister has been approved and scheduled for September the 15th at 9:00am. If any of this is unacceptable to you please let me know and I will see that the time and date is changed.

Yours in Good Fortune,

Griphook son of Goldtooth

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