Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from the Harry Potter books and/or movies is not mine.


A/N: So here it is - Preternatural. Sorry for switching it and all, it's just that with Rubber Ducky Loser losing her internet, I found it would be a bother to me to have to sign onto her name to update. Believe me, I don't like this either, but hey... I gotta' make you guys happy! Anyways, here's the first chapter rewritten, slightly. The next chapter will feature Remus in it. Yay! - Min


Preternatural

By: xScenex and Rubber Ducky Loser

Chapter One: To Wish Upon


THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN SLIGHTLY EDITED


It was a night like any other. The sky was cloudless, the pure, twinkling stars glittering distantly in the unknown abyss. It was warm -- a mid-summers eve, where the wind wound about against the long blades of grass, causing them to billow and quiver in a rhythmic dance, the fireflies drifting about playing hide and seek while the chirping of the crickets sounded in the distance. The air smelt of honeysuckle and grass, with a faint hint of standing water. It was a beautiful evening.

But beautiful things are always there to cross out the ugly.

Inside the house of Number four, Privet Drive, the tranquil setting outside opposed the feelings of a certain boy.

Namely, this boy was Harry Potter.

Now, he wasn't a normal boy - no, indeed he wasn't. In fact, he wasn't normal by any standards. ANY. Get the capitalization?

Harry Potter was known by many names. The-Boy-Who-Lived, Freak, Boy, the Heir of Slytherin, among other things. I bet you cant guess why he has all of those names, eh?

Allow me to explain a bit.

This boy was born to Lily Evans and James Potter, who were a witch and a wizard. Yes, yes, it's true, they exist. After Lily had married James, they became entangled in a huge war against an evil man named Voldemort. Or, the Dark Lord Voldemort, if you'd like to get technical. Thrice had they defied him.

Soon, a prophecy came along in history, causing abrupt problems with two families. The Potter's and the Longbottom's. The prophecy stated: 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ...' Since both of the families had a child on it's way, going to be born 'as the seventh month dies'; this concluded a problem.

So the two families went into hiding, but as fate would have it, there was a traitor amidst the light. Giving away the information of the Potter's location, Peter Pettigrew had betrayed them, thus allowing the Dark Lord to find them and murder the adults. But as he turned his wand upon the youngest Potter, he found his own killing curse flung back at him. Too surprised to do anything, the dark wizard had been ripped from his own body, leaving him nothing more than a spirit awaiting life.

Long story there. We'll fill that in at a later point.

After having his parents murdered, Harry Potter, the last of the Potter family, was sent to live with his Aunt and Uncle who were completely normal, thank you very much. They completely despised anything to do with magic, therefore, they outcast their nephew and attempted to 'squash' the magic right out of him.

The years had passed, and Harry grew up. At the tender age of eleven, although many preventions had been attempted, the boy was sent a letter from a magical school by the name of Hogwarts.

He couldn't pass the opportunity down and with the help of Hagrid, was able to enroll. He befriended the half giant, collected his school supplies, and acquired his familiar, Hedwig shortly before he was off to the school.

As he attended Hogwarts, he befriended a muggle-born witch named Hermione Granger, a full-blood wizard named Ronald Weasley, and became enemies with a boy named Draco Malfoy. As the years went by, he found out his heritage, discovered magical abilities, and learned just how unfair life could be. He also found out about his Godfather in his third year of attendance.

But happiness was something that came with a price, whether or not you want it. In Harry's case, he didn't want it. Classmates died, the Dark Lord rose back into power, though steadily and discreetly, and the boy's Godfather died. He lost trust in his mentor, his friends, and eventually, he fell into the addicting depression that now plagued his life. But the last event that had taken place really put a blow to his hope: his Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, had been murdered.

This is where we will find the older version of Harry Potter, sitting in his room at Number Four, Privet Drive, after coming home from his sixth year of school, aged beyond his years. He was not an innocent, carefree teenager as most would think of him to be. There was more to him than meets the eye.

And he hated it.

Sighing heavily, the raven haired boy sat down on his bed and stared out at the winking stars in the sky beyond the rooftops. It had been almost a week since he'd been back at Privet Drive. He had planned to leave there, but he couldn't find it in his heart to follow out with his plans. Even though there were horcrux's to find, he just couldn't find it in himself to get up and leave.

The depression had settled in worse than before. He was thinner than he'd ever been; his pale skin was stretched against his gaunt face, causing his emerald eyes to shine out as if in a desperate plea for help. His long, bony fingers shook with constant anxiousness as he tiredly ran them through his dark locks that surrounded his face and fell messily but elegantly against his shoulders.

If his aunt, uncle, or cousin noticed these changes, they hadn't said anything, although Harry had caught his aunt watching him from the distance every once in a while. But even though his family hadn't noticed the differences in him, his friends sure had. They had berated him for not eating and allowing himself to waste away the month before they were forced to go home, leaving behind the loving castle of Hogwarts, never to return for their last year of school.

The boy didn't listen to them though. He was lost in his own thoughts. Even the sight of meat had his stomach churning.

Harry allowed a small yawn to escape his lips as he stood up slowly. He peered around his room for a moment, taking in all his belongings strewn around the room. He checked to see if he had his wand in his pocket before nodding slightly to himself. He was always sure to keep his only defense weapon with him at all times, even in his sleep, and cursed himself if he forgot it anywhere. It just wasn't allowed anymore, for a witch or wizard to forget their wand. Voldemort was still up and about, and with Harry being on his top five Hit List, he was just asking for death if he left his holly wand somewhere and forgot about it. After a moment of stretching, the boy took one more glance out the window before he decided to go downstairs to begin cooking dinner for the Dursley's. That would take his mind off of some things going on in his life, at least.

After walking slowly down the hall, down the stairs, and into the brightly lit kitchen, he looked around as if in a daze. He'd been doing that a lot recently; seeing things as if in a new perspective. After shaking himself out of his stupor, he went over to the refrigerator and began searching for the items he needed to make an Italian dish.

After about half an hour of standing over an overly heated oven, he decided to sit down at the table and wait for the noodles to finish boiling. While he waited and stared off into space, he didn't notice his aunt coming in from the door to the right that led from the living area. The woman had paused in her footsteps to get a good look at her nephew.

It was odd, to her, to see such a young man looking so old and worn out. He looked like the living dead, to put it simply. She knew he didn't eat anymore, and he would have horrific nightmares, or night terrors. He fidgeted constantly, as if just waiting to be attacked. He was a lost cause to her. There was nothing left of the boy she had grown to know, even if she disliked him still. He used to be so much like his mother, but now...

After a few moments, the boy finally realized her presence and turned to stare at her with a detached gaze.

"Dinner should be done in half an hour, Aunt Petunia," he stated dully, turning his gaze away from her, to stare out at the open window above the sink, where the warm breeze from outside drifted in, mixing the smells of pasta and flowers together in a soothing, exotic aroma.

He didn't catch the woman's slightly worried gaze, or the way she fidgeted before walking awkwardly towards him. She took a seat across from the wizard, startling him from his stupor. Harry sent her a questioning gaze.

The woman cleared her throat after a moment's pause, "Erm, Harry," she began, "I've noticed that you've, uh, stopped eating."

Harry just looked at her with that dull, penetrating stare that made her squirm in her seat, "I've been eating, Aunt Petunia," he told her, then added almost accusingly, "Not that it would matter to any of you."

His Aunt winced slightly, but continued, "I know something happened at that - that school of yours."

"Oh," was the only response she received. Even that sounded far distant.

"Yes, well." She looked extremely uncomfortable, "I-I wont ask you what happened, because I really don't care."

This caused Harry to give her a small, ghost-like smile, "Some things never change."

She shot him a glare, "Don't talk to me that way, boy. I'm trying to help you here." Her nephew nodded apologetically, but she knew he didn't mean it. Sighing, she said, "And I think I have the right thing for you."

After a questioning stare, she pulled something out of her pocket. It was oddly shaped, almost a cross between a circle and a triangle. It was silver, with chrome crisscrossing lines that sent light shafts everywhere and reflected all of it's surroundings perfectly, images of the kitchen and it's two occupants standing out among the light. There was a small knob at the top, almost like one of those winders on a musical doll. It reeked of magic.

Harry shivered at the sheer magic issuing from it. "What is it?" he questioned quietly, perplexed by the beauty it possessed, yet aware of the danger it possibly held.

"Do you honestly think I know that, Boy?" his Aunt snapped, then took a deep breath as if she were forcing herself to be calm. "That Headmaster of yours gave it to me years ago, when they left you on our doorstep." The boy took a deep breath and looked away from the woman across from him at the mention of his Headmaster. The memories were still painful. Unaware of the effect, she continued, "He left a note with it, saying that if you were ever in great need of a change, or if something extremely bad had happened and there was no hope left, to give this to you. The note said that once you have it, you'll know what to do with it."

Sliding the object towards Harry, she stood up and left the room without another word. The boy stared at the item on the tabletop in front of him, wondering what it was. The power emitting from it unsettled him, but he knew it wouldn't harm him. If his Aunt had touched it without being hurt, it shouldn't hurt him... right? It was from Dumbledore, after all.

He reached out and picked it up delicately, all the while feeling the raw power against his fingertips. It was almost an addicting. Actually… it was addicting.

Narrowing his eyes only slightly, Harry weighed the object in his hands, realizing that it was much lighter and warmer than it had looked. He blinked as he suddenly felt something different about himself. He felt a yearning in his heart for something, but he didn't know what. 'Once you have it, you'll know what to do with it…' His Aunts words rang through his mind. What would he do with it?

Just as he thought of what his Aunt had previously said, he felt the sudden urge to go outside. Blinking owlishly at the feeling, he stood up and went out through the back door as quietly as he could and breathed in the scent of the night as the summer breeze blew across his face.

A firefly passed him as he began walking through the small garden in the back, until he was in the center of the neatly cut yard. He stared up at the sky for a moment, his eyes locking onto a certain star that had been his only comfort since he'd arrived at Privet Drive, besides his trusty owl, Hedwig. It was the Dog Star. The very star that his Godfather had been named after.

He missed his Godfather greatly. He wanted him to be there with him; but that would never be since the man was now dead - taken from Harry's life through the Veil of Death. A distant anguish engulfed Harry's heart at the thought of the Grim-like man.

The object that Harry held in his hands seemed to pulse convulsively as he felt the loss of his father-figure in his heart. What did Harry truly want? His Godfather back? His parents? Or even Dumbledore?

"I want a life where I was never The-Boy-Who-Lived," he said unconsciously with hooded eyes rested on his reflection in the object, realizing that that was truly what he wanted.

Suddenly, the world began to spin. He felt the ground quiver beneath him, and the sky above him seemed to collapse. The air suddenly convulsed and closed in tightly against his body and lungs in an almost suffocating way. Wind whistled in his ears loudly, but Harry was unable to move an inch. Glued in one spot, he stared, wide-eyed at the object in his hands. It pulsed, getting hotter and hotter each second and scorched his hands until he could feel tears well up in his eyes.

Soon, when it became almost unbearable, the mirror burst into pieces, releasing a horde of blue light and throwing Harry back for what seemed like miles.

And then the boy landed with a thump, right onto something remotely hard, yet soft at the same time.

Opening his eyes with a trained awareness, Harry realized that he was in a house, lying sprawled on a blue carpeted floor. He blinked and looked around, his senses working full force.

The room he had plain white walls, adorned with many posters and shelves that contained books, and photograph frames were scattered here and there among the place. There was an unmade bed and a bedside table in the far corner next to a single window, closed off by white blinds. An antique wardrobe stood at the other end, and to the far right corner of that stood a full-length mirror.

That definitely wasn't his room.

Feeling bruised and battered, Harry stood up unsteadily while his eyes darted around the room. He wasn't sure what happened, but that object had taken him somewhere. But where, he didn't know. For all he knew, his Aunt could have been under an Imperus curse and had handed him an object that would lead him to Voldemort... Oh bloody hell, he thought in the back of his mind for his carelessness.

But... when his Aunt said that the object would help him, did she mean it? And if so, what did the words mean?

Deciding that he shouldn't just stand there like an idiot, he began to shuffle around the room as quietly as possible, looking through drawers and other things, hoping to find something that would help him know where he was.

Oddly enough, when he opened one of the middle drawers to the bedside table, he found a whole bunch of bubblegum wrappers inside, some of the same brand and others not.

"That's odd…" he mumbled to himself before shutting it hurriedly. Afterwards, he opened another drawer and found an already read letter sitting inside with a neat scrawl addressed to him. The date on the front told him it had been just from the night before. Opening it with shaking hands, he read:

Dear Harry,

I hope this finds you well. I know we haven't seen each other since Christmas, but you're going to have to wait a bit longer until I come home. This Auror business has kept me busy lately, and since I'm still in Germany training, I'm afraid it may be another month before I'm able to see you again, since the Ministry is hyped about Voldemort's return. They've been working us nonstop, afraid that he'll bare down on them any second. And as Neville is in constant danger, they're having us keep lookouts on his relatives house.

I know things at school have been hard for you, and I wish dearly that I were there to guide you through things at the moment, but I can't. Please forgive me. I'll try to make up for it when we see each other in a month.

Take care of the house while I'm away, and remember not to leave the dish water running too long. I know you can forget that sometimes. And NO magic! I know you're allowed it now, but I really don't want to come home finding the house in ruins. Sorry, I had to say that.

Please take care, Harry. I do miss you.

Sincerely,

Sirius

Harry gaped. And continued to gape.

"Sirius?"

Looking at the letter awkwardly, things began to sink in. '…Neville is in constant danger…', '…Voldemort's return…'

It was odd, but Harry knew exactly what had happened. It was more of a gut feeling than anything else.

That object his Aunt had given him wasn't a trick planned out by a Death Eater or even Voldemort himself. It was, indeed, from Dumbledore and had granted his most heart-felt desire: to be someone other than The-Boy-Who-Lived. His aunt had practically stated before handing him the item that it would grant him that desire... had the Headmaster really thought so highly of Harry to give him something of such power?

The letter stated, although not up-front, that Neville was The-Boy-Who-Lived. It was as if Harry had switched rolls with his fellow classmate. And Sirius was there! Sirius was alive!

The reality sunk in, and laughing for the first time in months, Harry sat down heavily on the bed next to him. He laughed and laughed, doubled over and clutching his side, feeling as if something drastic had been lifted from his shoulders.

"I can't believe it," he breathed out after his hysterics had subsided slightly. "I just can't believe it. If I knew things could be this simple, I would have done this sooner."

Hope began to bubble in his chest as he rested his head in his hands. He felt exhausted, although at the same time, he felt as if he could take on the world. Maybe, just maybe, he had a chance. His Godfather was alive, from what he knew, Dumbledore might even be alive! Things could be much different!

With those thoughts in mind, the boy laid down on the bed fully dressed and closed his eyes slowly despite wanting to stay awake.

Yes, he thought, hoping to whatever God was up There, that when he woke up it wouldn't be just a dream. If this is real, then I do have a chance.