The Littlest Wizard
By: bigo4190
Disclaimer: I do not own this. The changes that differing events cause are mine, but the original idea belongs to J.K. Rowling
Speaking: "Blah"
Speaking in other Languages: "Blah"
Thinking: 'Blah'
Chapter 1The day starts perfectly normal on Privet Drive, and no sign exists that in house #4, there lies a secret. A secret kept from the one it concerns—that tells that he is not normal—and that he has the ability to be so much more. Harry Potter, a small boy, even for his 5 years, is a wizard. His family, who aren't, know this, but they aren't telling. But some things cannot remain hidden for long. And sometimes, the harder you try and keep something secret, the harder it is to keep, and the greater is the effect when it is finally revealed. That time has come, and there are some people who won't like the results.
It was a warm summer's day, and that meant that it was time for the back garden of #4 to be weeded. This would usually be a task for the lady of the house, or perhaps a charming young girl or strapping young boy. And while the lady of the house certainly was outside most of this time, she only oversaw the work. Unfortunately, their was no girl to carry on her mothers charms, and neither of the boys in the house could be called strapping. One, the lady's son, was barely 5, already doing a reasonable impression of a young cow merely by existing; the other boy, the nephew of Petunia Dursley, was much too small for his age. But it was this boy who had the enormous task of weeding the gardens of Privet Drive. It was something he only minorly disliked, because it meant time outside, and away from his cupboard.
Young Harry breathed an unnoticeable sigh of relief when his aunt went inside for some more lemonade—she of course was too hot, but Harry who did all the work, was not allowed more than a sip of water every hour. He was shocked when, from the shade of the plant he was removing weeds from around, there came a rash of angry muttering. "Stupid human, disturbing my sleep. I should bite him. I don't care if I'm not poisonous; the little mite deserves it."
Harry sat back shocked, the snake was speaking, hissing really as it still had that smoothness, and he could understand. "Ex-excuse me, Mr. Snake."
"A Speaker, this is a surprise. Tell me, little one, is this your first time talking to one of my kind?"
"Yes, I've heard of snakes before, but you're the first I've ever seen." Now, the conversation could have gone on further, but Petunia had come back outside, to here Harry hissing into the bushes.
'This has gone too far. He's even worse than her.' With no more thought than this, the horrid woman begins to rant at her nephew. "You little freak. It seems we were wrong. Just like your parents. The magic won't leave you; no matter what we do. It won't stare out, it won't be beaten out; and now, here you are talking to snakes—in their language. Even my horrid sister had the decency to never do that, at least around me. You won't be getting away with this though boy—when Vernon gets back you won't see daylight or food for a week, so just get out. Get…Out." And before the temporarily deranged woman can regain her senses, Harry turns and flees, not looking back. He just runs, as hard and fast as his small, underfed body can carry him.
When Harry had finally reached the limits of his body, he collapsed, lying still exactly where he had fallen—surrounded by scenery he had never seen before. He just lay on his back, taking in the scenery, when a sudden noise nearby shocks him. Harry tries desperately to move, straining, but his legs just don't have the power; but then a most strange sensation overcomes him. Closing his eyes against the pain, as it seemed his body was crushed, Harry missed the sudden change of scenery—until he opened his eyes once more, several moments later. The dilapidated cottage at the edges of the woods was certainly not what had been near him moments before. But somehow this cottage, in all of its run-down glory, seemed familiar to Harry—in fact, it screamed home at him more than Privet Drive ever had. And so, finally recovering from his exhaustion, and mustering the curiosity and courage that had not yet been driven from him by the Dursleys, Harry stood, and shakily walked through the hole that used to hold a front door.
The entry of the home showed signs of damage, as if it had been the sight of a battle. While there was no blood or bodies, the scorch marks and cracked walls certainly seemed to tell of a vicious confrontation. Harry continued to walk, and soon reached a flight of stairs, leading to the upstairs. Some unknown compulsion seemed to draw Harry up the stairs, leading him down the upper hall until he reached a particular door. He had no clue as to why he had come to that door, not even bothering to look into the others, but he felt that he must see what was on the other side.
Slowly he opened the door, revealing what had to have been, at one time, a nursery. Now however, a section of the roof and far wall were missing, leaving a hole gaping out into the outdoors beyond. And there, right in front of the section blasted away, on the floor, was a circular scorch mark with a strange shape in the center of it. After only another few moments Harry realized that it was the outline of a baby, and suddenly he remembered a strange dream from the night before; he saw a sudden flash of green light followed by a flash of pain in is scar. 'No, that can't be right. Why? How? This makes no sense!' Slowly Harry entered the room going over to the scorch mark and turning to face back towards the front of the room; it was then that he caught sight of a frame, the glass having been cracked so badly the actual picture was unseen. Even more slowly, he walked over to the picture, and carefully knocked the glass from the frame. He gasped when he saw the picture; it was a man and woman with a small baby in front of that very cottage. Looking at them, they could only be Harry as a baby with his parents. This had been his home, but then after regaining his composure, Harry noticed something strange about the picture, the figures moved. 'Mum…. Dad…. You were so much more than the Dursley's ever said. I'm going to make you proud' "I Promise."
