AN: Yes I meant to say "The Man ON the Moon". And no, you're not supposed to get it.
A small child sat, wrapped in shadows and rags. His hair the color of midnight, his eyes more radiant than the most precious of emeralds. A lone tear slid down his already tear stained face but still the child made no sound. This child's name (though he is told he has none) is Harry Potter.
How could the savior of the Wizerding World be so sad? Shouldn't he be swarmed by admirers? Wasn't he supposed to be arrogant? Arrogant, but happy none the less. The explanation is quite simple, young Harry has no idea the Wizerding World even exists. In fact he is told, repeatedly and in the company of punishment, that there is no such thing as magic.
Poor sweet sad little Harry. Isn't there anyone that can save him from the road of destruction fate seems to have sent him down? Of course there is, but the question is, will they want to help? Will Harry want them to help? As people over the years have learned Fate works in mysterious ways, whether you want it to or not.
So, just who can save this poor child from a terrible future? The more appropriate question would be, "when?". Because, you see, they're here now, right outside the door.
A whispered word and the door unlocks. The little child, Harry, looks up.
The doorknob turns. He scoots into the corner, curling in on himself for protection.
The door opens.
AN: I know it's incredibly short but it all happened in about 30 seconds so give me a break. I just might make a sequel...but I'm not sure.
