My Story
Harry J. Potter
Order of Merlin 1st Class
Member of the Wizengomot
Member of the Order of the Phoenix
The Boy Who Lived
Introduction
I am dedicating this to someone very special, she already knows who she is she prodded me, poked fun at me, and has always been my most loyal advisor, confidant and partner in crime.
Sometimes, Love, dreams do come true.
Harry James Potter
Chapter 1
As with all good, and many not so good, books you have to start somewhere. So here's where I am going to start: It was a long, long time ago. In a land far, far away. A small child heard his father die trying to save his life, and then watched a green glow envelop his mother, and saw the life drain from her loving face.
Of course I don't really remember this. In the presence of Dementors I can still hear my mum and dad's last minutes of life, and I can see the greenish haze surrounding the shape of my mother, and hear her beg and plead for my life. A part of me curses them for their Gryffindor courage and another part understands as I watch my own toddler stumble across the floor. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Sometime after the death of my parents, I was delivered to the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Winging, Surrey in England. My parents both dead, the only choice to make sure I was safe from the Death Eaters still loyal to Voldemort was to place protections similar to the ones surrounding the Ministry of Magic around my aunt and uncle's house.
Let's move forward in time just under ten years, I am sure many of you are wondering what kind of opulent, and decadent pleasures I shared with my 'loving' family in Surrey. Truth be told, I was abused both physically, and mentally by all three members of my 'loving' family. One of my many guilty pleasures includes the knowledge that all three got what was coming to them, the debt for how they treated me was repaid in full by members of the wizarding community.
For a child who had no idea what was in store for him, I felt something was odd in the air that morning. As usual I got the mail, and found the letter that was to invite me to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, though it was several days before I read it, I felt the beginnings of a change. As if I were passing through a doorway that was closing rapidly behind me, shutting me off from the only stability I had known. Sure they didn't care what happened to me, but it was consistent, and normal.
The next few days were a blur of activity. I was moved out of the closet under the stairs to my cousins' second bedroom, where he kept al the junk he had broken. My greatest fear is that one day the wizarding world will recreate the house on Privet Drive, as a museum, and there will be a walkthrough tour with some vapid witch in a bored voice saying "And this is where the Boy Who Lived spent his summers. Note the piece of paper taped to the wall to count off the days until he was able to go back to Hogwarts and continue to fight He Who Must Not Be Named.". Seriously, I wake up screaming to that nightmare, you can ask my wife.
I was excited beyond belief when Hagrid handed me my first birthday cake in my memory. I am sure at the age of one I had one, knowing who my dad and mum were, and their friends, I was sure that I had had a terrific first year of life. It was the next ten that pretty much were the epitome of hell on earth. But on a hut, barely able to keep out the elements, I read those magical words:
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress
I am sure to this day Minerva never really knew what the future held when she dictated that letter and sent it off with the owls that attempted to deliver them. If she had even had the most minor idea, would she still have sent it? She assures me that she would have no matter what, my place was here in the wizarding world, but I have my doubts. I know she carries a number of grey hairs on her head from me and my best mate Ron and Hermione. Oh, make no mistake, they are two VERY separate people, but together they are my best mate. It's as simple as that. The three of us together can do almost anything. But if one of us isn't there, it's not going to work. Believe me we have tried when one of us was brassed at one of the others.
So here I am an eleven year old kid with a ticket for Platform 9 ¾, an owl, and a trolley full of stuff, and everyone looking at me like I'm daft. I'm scared, literally I'm frightened witless. Then I saw Molly Weasley (though I didn't know at the time) ushering the lot of her children through King's Cross. I was about to give up and try and figure out how to get back to Privet Drive, when I heard her muttering about muggles. I knew I had found a wizard family, and I followed them, it wasn't until it was Ron's turn that I finally screwed up the courage (and swallowed my pride) enough to ask her how to get on Platform 9 ¾.
For anyone reading this who doesn't know, Molly Weasley is the sweetest, kindest woman on the planet. She took pity on the poor boy who didn't know how to enter their world, without knowing a single thing about him.
Ron followed me through. Somewhat prophetic, actually he felt as if from that moment on he'd always live in the shadow of me. He felt jealous of my scar, my fame, my money. I'd have given it all away to have the riches he's always had; brothers, sister, and the love of his parents. He basked in their pride and care, and didn't see it for what it was until much later.
But look, I'm waxing poetic, and I'm supposed to be telling a story here. Ok, let's bring back the vapid tour-witch. "Now we will move on to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is a replica of the actual compartment where Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger first became friends." HA! Harry Potter made a funny. God we couldn't stand Hermione. If first impressions were all you had to go on, there is no way we would have bother talking to, let alone becoming friends with her.
She knew everything then (or so it seemed to us) she was bossy, and irritating to no end. But honestly, she grows on you. She really doesn't know everything, and she knows it, but it irritates the bloody hell out of her when she has to admit it.
From the Dictionary of Hermione: "I Don't Know" is a foul phrase, and should instead be replaced with "I Need To Look Up Something In the Library." Followed immediately by flaunting off to hide behind books until the answer finally comes to you.
If you ever want to irritate Hermione remind her that Chocolate Frog cards are in fact research material. If she gives you any guff, I have 2 words for you: "Nicholas Flammel" She'll sputter about it not being fair, but that's life. It's not fair.
Well, let's follow the tour-witch to Chapter 2 and see what I really thought of First year..
Introduction
I am dedicating this to someone very special, she already knows who she is she prodded me, poked fun at me, and has always been my most loyal advisor, confidant and partner in crime.
Sometimes, Love, dreams do come true.
Harry James Potter
Chapter 1
As with all good, and many not so good, books you have to start somewhere. So here's where I am going to start: It was a long, long time ago. In a land far, far away. A small child heard his father die trying to save his life, and then watched a green glow envelop his mother, and saw the life drain from her loving face.
Of course I don't really remember this. In the presence of Dementors I can still hear my mum and dad's last minutes of life, and I can see the greenish haze surrounding the shape of my mother, and hear her beg and plead for my life. A part of me curses them for their Gryffindor courage and another part understands as I watch my own toddler stumble across the floor. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Sometime after the death of my parents, I was delivered to the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Winging, Surrey in England. My parents both dead, the only choice to make sure I was safe from the Death Eaters still loyal to Voldemort was to place protections similar to the ones surrounding the Ministry of Magic around my aunt and uncle's house.
Let's move forward in time just under ten years, I am sure many of you are wondering what kind of opulent, and decadent pleasures I shared with my 'loving' family in Surrey. Truth be told, I was abused both physically, and mentally by all three members of my 'loving' family. One of my many guilty pleasures includes the knowledge that all three got what was coming to them, the debt for how they treated me was repaid in full by members of the wizarding community.
For a child who had no idea what was in store for him, I felt something was odd in the air that morning. As usual I got the mail, and found the letter that was to invite me to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, though it was several days before I read it, I felt the beginnings of a change. As if I were passing through a doorway that was closing rapidly behind me, shutting me off from the only stability I had known. Sure they didn't care what happened to me, but it was consistent, and normal.
The next few days were a blur of activity. I was moved out of the closet under the stairs to my cousins' second bedroom, where he kept al the junk he had broken. My greatest fear is that one day the wizarding world will recreate the house on Privet Drive, as a museum, and there will be a walkthrough tour with some vapid witch in a bored voice saying "And this is where the Boy Who Lived spent his summers. Note the piece of paper taped to the wall to count off the days until he was able to go back to Hogwarts and continue to fight He Who Must Not Be Named.". Seriously, I wake up screaming to that nightmare, you can ask my wife.
I was excited beyond belief when Hagrid handed me my first birthday cake in my memory. I am sure at the age of one I had one, knowing who my dad and mum were, and their friends, I was sure that I had had a terrific first year of life. It was the next ten that pretty much were the epitome of hell on earth. But on a hut, barely able to keep out the elements, I read those magical words:
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress
I am sure to this day Minerva never really knew what the future held when she dictated that letter and sent it off with the owls that attempted to deliver them. If she had even had the most minor idea, would she still have sent it? She assures me that she would have no matter what, my place was here in the wizarding world, but I have my doubts. I know she carries a number of grey hairs on her head from me and my best mate Ron and Hermione. Oh, make no mistake, they are two VERY separate people, but together they are my best mate. It's as simple as that. The three of us together can do almost anything. But if one of us isn't there, it's not going to work. Believe me we have tried when one of us was brassed at one of the others.
So here I am an eleven year old kid with a ticket for Platform 9 ¾, an owl, and a trolley full of stuff, and everyone looking at me like I'm daft. I'm scared, literally I'm frightened witless. Then I saw Molly Weasley (though I didn't know at the time) ushering the lot of her children through King's Cross. I was about to give up and try and figure out how to get back to Privet Drive, when I heard her muttering about muggles. I knew I had found a wizard family, and I followed them, it wasn't until it was Ron's turn that I finally screwed up the courage (and swallowed my pride) enough to ask her how to get on Platform 9 ¾.
For anyone reading this who doesn't know, Molly Weasley is the sweetest, kindest woman on the planet. She took pity on the poor boy who didn't know how to enter their world, without knowing a single thing about him.
Ron followed me through. Somewhat prophetic, actually he felt as if from that moment on he'd always live in the shadow of me. He felt jealous of my scar, my fame, my money. I'd have given it all away to have the riches he's always had; brothers, sister, and the love of his parents. He basked in their pride and care, and didn't see it for what it was until much later.
But look, I'm waxing poetic, and I'm supposed to be telling a story here. Ok, let's bring back the vapid tour-witch. "Now we will move on to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is a replica of the actual compartment where Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger first became friends." HA! Harry Potter made a funny. God we couldn't stand Hermione. If first impressions were all you had to go on, there is no way we would have bother talking to, let alone becoming friends with her.
She knew everything then (or so it seemed to us) she was bossy, and irritating to no end. But honestly, she grows on you. She really doesn't know everything, and she knows it, but it irritates the bloody hell out of her when she has to admit it.
From the Dictionary of Hermione: "I Don't Know" is a foul phrase, and should instead be replaced with "I Need To Look Up Something In the Library." Followed immediately by flaunting off to hide behind books until the answer finally comes to you.
If you ever want to irritate Hermione remind her that Chocolate Frog cards are in fact research material. If she gives you any guff, I have 2 words for you: "Nicholas Flammel" She'll sputter about it not being fair, but that's life. It's not fair.
Well, let's follow the tour-witch to Chapter 2 and see what I really thought of First year..