Midnight tides bring ill omens.
It is the darkest of nights in a small town of little whinging, in surrey. In the neighborhood of Privet Drive, the fourth house. In its smallest bed room. There lies a boy. A very peculiar boy with messy hair as black as the night sky outside his window.
His hair fringe covering the most peculiar part of him, a scar shaped like lightning. He lies in his bed. Sleeping, but not soundly. He tosses and turns, his brow sheathed in sweat. Suddenly he wakes up yelling 'SIRIUS'. He looks around his green eyes lost in madness. He sees his surroundings and calms down.
He looks at his room, cluttered. A sleek broomstick lay in a corner and the word "Firebolt" could be seen on it; there was a cauldron in another corner. Books littered the floor, but not any normal books, books on magic. There were also newspapers on the floor which had pictures that moved and at the foot of the bed lay a silvery cloak that shimmered even in the night. These were not things you would expect to see in a normal 16 year old boy's room. But Harry Potter was not a normal boy. He has not been a normal boy since he was just a year old before a madman led by a prophecy came after him and his family. Harry took some deep breathes his body visibly calming down.
He looked at the clock on his night stand. It was late he puts his glasses on the night stand switches off his bed side lamp and drifts back to sleep a deep and dreamless sleep only to be awaken hours later by a knock on his bedroom door.
Author's Note: This is my very first published work. this is just the prologue, lets hope the story turns out good. So please read and review. Thank you :)