Harry Potter & the legacy of the Dungeon Lord: Bob Chapter 1, a x-overs fanfic

Title: Harry potter Dungeon Monk
Category: Books » Harry Potter
Author: Kingdark
Language: English, Rating: Rated: M
Genre: General, fantasy, sci-fi
Warning: The first part is about an OC. Once that part has passed he won't be mentioned again except (maybe) in passing.

THERE MAY BE THINGS IN THIS STORY THAT OFFEND YOU. BOB'S OPINION THAT WOMEN ARE ONLY GOOD TO CLEAN UP, PLEASE HIM AND AS BABY FACTORIES IS NOT I REPEAT IS NOT AN OPINION I SHARE. I DO NOT AGREE WITH THE IDEA OF A HAREM AND I AM ALL FOR MALE/FEMALE EQUALITY.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Harry Potter and the legacy of the Dungeon Lord

Summary: Harry meets the Dungeon Lord after he saw the genocide of his race making him the only Dungeon Monk alive any time, any place and everywhere. The Dungeon Monk, being as weak as he is, has no choice but to pass his status on to an untrained young wizard leaving only his Imp of knowledge as his only legacy. After spending five years in Bob's localized dimension which is only five minutes in real time, Harry has a new mission: hunt down that bastard that calls himself GEK!

The character GEK comes from a certain long crossover story. It has over 390.000 words and is written by VexMaster if that is not a hint I don't know what is. The cross will be minimal at this point though because at this point, GEK is the bad guy. If VexMaster reads this story he may work with me to make GEK speak and act like the real thing (aka as if it was written by VexMaster

Final read / proof check done on 23/03/2012

Chapter one

Bob had been a Dungeon Lord for well over ten thousand years and that was only an average age for his race. Bob was a Dungeon Lord because he had 'inherited' his power from the Dungeon Lord before him. He had inherited his power and Yoda the Imp before he had killed his mentor in cold blood.

Only a Dungeon Lord -Bob in other words- could choose a new Lord when the time was right. The power that Bob had inherited from the previous Dungeon Lord actually prevented him from referring to himself as a Dungeon Monk.

Bob had learned many things in the many decades that he spend with the Dungeon Lord as the future Dungeon Lord. Some of he most important bits that Bob would bash into whoever would inherit his power would be the following:

a) All dungeon monks had to obey the Dungeon Lord. That did not mean they couldn't betray you.

b) A Dungeon Lord can either breed to produce more dungeon monks or he can give the future Dungeon Monk a tiny bit of his 'spark.' This procedure is VERY dangerous for both the Dungeon Lord and the Dungeon Monk.

c) Dungeon monks and lords could live for thousands of years this did not mean that a Dungeon Monk or lord was immortal or invincible.

d) A Dungeon Monk or lord could only be a male.

e) A Dungeon Lord had a rival of equal power to balance his power out.

f) A Dungeon Lord could only 'give' a spark once every six months and then six months would be added onto it. This meant that after ten dungeon monks were chosen the Dungeon Lord would have to wait five years before he could chose a new one. If he didn't chose a new monk after five years then the next one could be chosen in four and a halve years. If he didn't chose one again then four years later he could pick a new one. This would continue until he got back to six months.

A Dungeon Lord did not have any limits in creating biological heirs. They would not inherit his title of Dungeon Lord and could only become a Dungeon Monk IF they had the spark and could activate it.

Bob was just over ten thousand years and he still looked like he was in his early fifties when he was in his natural form. Dungeon monks and lords weren't all that different in that aspect. Both could live for a very long time. Something that his mentor that taught him was the fact that it didn't matter that you could destroy entire armies with a thought if you let your power corrupt you. It was for this reason that dungeon lords and monks by extension had their own natural rivals (enemies) that rivalled them in power and ability.

This enemy and the Dungeon Lord balanced each other out and were meant to keep each other in check. The rival of the Dungeon Lord also happened to be a female. Always. The Dungeon Lord and this enemy didn't have to be enemies. They could be allies, friends or even lovers though a child could never happen.

The official title of the Dungeon Lord his rival was phantom Queen. The death and rebirth of a Dungeon Lord or phantom queen ALWAYS occurred at the same time. Always with no exceptions.

The Queen had the same abilities that Bob had. She could 'activate' the spark in those she chose. And just like Bob the procedure was dangerous and would increase her 'charging time' by six months each time. Just like Bob she had no limits in how many children she could bring into the world.

Bob's rivalry with the current queen was especially violent. He had tried for decades, centuries even to repair or at least bring their relationship into 'neutrality' with no success. The bitch hadn't made an appearance in centuries and his made wary. It was for this reason that he was travelling back to his 'country' he had crafted over his long life. His 'country' actually was a number of closely related personal dimensions so closely linked that it seemed like one big country at first glance. This country wasn't located in any dimension or reality. It wasn't even located in a galaxy. His country was located outside of time. Time passed of course, linked to a number of realities where time passed just as quickly.

Bob had created more then his own share of new dungeon monks if only to keep the older ones in check. These dungeon monks were very loyal to him. He had given them the spark, taught them what they needed to know and then cut them loose. He had chosen his dungeon monks carefully though. Six months wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things but he still could create only one Dungeon Monk every time.

Another solution was of course to create a biological son... Or many of them. The downside was that it would take many years before his son was old enough to be taught. Any daughters he had were taught how to defend themselves but they were normally always married off to other Dungeon Monks. Bob could and had created whole harems to please him. Sometimes just to use them as baby factories, to take care of the babies while they were too little to do anything other then crap, eat and sleep and finally to clean up. It was all they were good for in Bob's humble opinion.

Usually he impregnated several women so he could teach whole classes ten years later. He tended to lose interest quickly though. Bob thought it was a small price to pay. Give him a son and please him whenever he got into the mood in exchange for unlimited luxury and anything she would want.

There was actually a reason for the fact that time increased by six months every time he created a new Dungeon Monk. To 'give' the spark to anybody was very dangerous. It exhausted even the strongest of Dungeon Lords. It took six months to recover the raw amount of power that it took to transfer the spark to the future Dungeon Monk.

The raw amount of power required to 'give' or 'share' the spark doubled every time he created a new Dungeon Monk. The time was meant to a) let him recover and b) give him time to grow stronger so he wouldn't kill himself if he tried to create another Dungeon Monk.

Other Dungeon Monks could create Dungeon Monks on their own. But only through breeding. Bob's mentality to women wouldn't be accepted by many. But at least he could say he never abused them. He never hurt them and always tried to please them as much as they pleased him.

The punishment if you abused your women was a hundreds years of being able to get as horny as you get but unable to get 'it' up. If they broke the rule again within a century they would be forcefully de-aged into toddler's age so they could be re-educated as to why abusing women was a big NO NO.

If this still didn't help and the Dungeon Monk kept at it, Bob would take drastic measures, block eighty percent of the dungeon monk's power shape-shift him into a female form and then drop him off in an SM whore house. The moment the Dungeon Monk learned his lesson he would be out of there.

Once the new Dungeon Monk had completed his training he would be cut loose, given a few directions to a couple of interesting dimensions and then send on his way. Most rookies spend their few centuries mastering their power and gathering 'awesome' powers followed by the creation of their own very secret dimensional stronghold where they ruled supreme... Unless Bob happened to visit. These dimensional strongholds were essentially fortresses by themselves. Very difficult to find let alone to attack.

The oldest dimensional strongholds had dozens of families living within with hundreds of servants, three time that many minions and ten times that number in soldiers. Other dimensional strongholds had hundreds of families living within with countless of servants, soldiers and allies protecting it.

Since Bob was the Master of all dungeon monks he knew of every dimensional stronghold they created, every dimension or reality they visited and all the bits of knowledge they learned and Yoda didn't know was recorded.

Bob could allow himself to be connected even more deeply then he already was. But he felt that was too close to stalking. He hadn't checked in on them for a few decades and felt it was time for a few surprise visitations.

You can't imagine his incredible surprise when he finds the outer cities in ruins with nothing but corpses and smoke. Finding the vaults empty and all weapons and valuables gone angered Bob to the point he could barely contain his power.

Why hadn't he heard their distress call? Why hadn't they warned him? Why hadn't Yoda said anything to him?

'Yoda!' Bob snapped.

The immortal Imp appeared with a loud snap. Unusual because he normally arrived soundlessly.

'Master!' The imp groaned. "Finally, I thought you would never call upon me! Have you broken the curse that stopped you from thinking of me and blocks or makes you ignore your connection to-" Yoda paused when he finally took note of his location.

The moment that Yoda had uttered those words, the curse was broken. It's power was based on the fact that Bob was unaware of it. Now that he knew it could not exist any more. Immediately after, Bob sensed hundreds of distress calls. With dozens being silenced abruptly. Bob had fought many wars in his time. He had been given hundreds of summon able minions he only summoned when it was really needed. His huge army of minions was one of the reasons why he was respected and feared. He was by all means a literal one man army. One that could slaughter whole armies with ease on top of that fact that his summoned minions were very powerful by themselves.

'Attention to all dungeon monks: the curse that prevented me from hearing you has been broken. Help will arrive momentarily. Don't lose hope.'

Bob closed his eyes and connected with the hundreds if not thousands of minions he had available.

'COME!' He ordered them. Immediately after monsters, warriors, Mages and adventurers alike began popping in.

Bob closed his eyes to concentrate on his connection that he had with the dungeon monks. Many 'cities' were already lost. He send orders to those dungeon monks to evacuate to more secure cities and to make a stand there. Immediately after he began sending his minions to the cities that were being abandoned. His minions couldn't be killed. Not really. They were connected to him. They could be destroyed but it would take them a few days to a few hours to recover back to full power.

Even with all the minions he had send to help he still had a huge amount left.

'Go to my capital city. Dig in. Reinforce the wards. Look for possible traitors, beacons or anything unusual.' He ordered them.

'Go!'

Bob immediately checked on the cities that were already lost and concluded that their vaults were raided and emptied completely. He followed that up by checking on the cities under siege only to find several vaults being emptied. He slaughtered the attackers with relative ease, relocated the remaining treasure to his own personal vault and followed the portal to see where it led.

The moment he arrived he found himself being aimed at by hundreds if not thousands of enemy soldiers. Bob didn't seem impressed. "I'm going to give you a single chance to bring me to your leader. I want to know why he attacked my country unprovoked. Failure to comply will result in your death."

The soldiers didn't think a second about his ultimatum. They opened fire. Bob already suspected that response and had been prepared. He already was in a different location and had dropped hundreds of powerful bombs in the crowd. They exploded violently killing hundreds of soldiers instantly with at least ten times that many that had injuries going from lethal to a simple bruise.

Bob continued to slaughter the small army until nobody was left. He searched the place carefully then left when he concluded that all his valuables were already gone.

Bob emptied all other vaults and placed them in his own. After checking and rechecking its protection and security. Only he would be able to enter it. Anyone even attempting to probe, scan or anything of the sort would be attacked violently alert him immediately.

Bob noted idly that the attackers had began retreating once his people organized themselves. It was either that or they had received orders to fall back. He wouldn't let that happen though. Bob concentrated and a dozen of weaker versions of him separated and vanished immediately after. Each weak version of him appeared in the middle of the retreating enemy and began slaughtering them without mercy.

There would be no mercy for the unprovoked attack.

His weaker selves had been given the order to let the highest ranking officers live. They would be forcefully interrogated. His weaker selves completed their mission, drained the officers of all knowledge then mercifully killed the officers in one blow.

Now that his people were no longer panicking, Bob wondered if his rival was under attack as well. There was not a single doubt in his mind that it had been his rival that had attacked him. She knew that if she attacked him this way he would strike back with equal if not more force. They would fight and eventually they would end up in a tie.

It was the way of things. Neither could defeat the other.

His people were retreating to cities that hadn't been attacked. His gut told him that this attack was meant to be quick and undetected by him. Since he had detected it, the enemy had to have a back up plan.

"To all dungeon monks: once you have settled in, begin digging in. I want our remaining cities to be fortresses. Wards upon wards upon wards. Summon your allies. Summon your soldiers. Call in every favour you are owed. We have been bloodied this day. We will return the favour a hundred in its intensity. Bob out."

Bob had a feeling that this enemy wanted to gather the keys to open THAT vault that he had sealed for good reason. It held such powerful items that it would make his power look like an ant. It had even been serious enough to make his rival agree to work with him on this. That should tell you something. To get a clue to where it was you needed hundreds of keys to just unlock the merest hints. You needed hundreds more to know what vaults to unlock. What time lines to visit. It's security was immense. This GEK bastard was coming closer then he was comfortable with.

While the sealed items within the sealed vaults were very powerful artefact it extracted a heavy price of the user. It would condemn the user for an eternity of everlasting torture should the user ever die. Bob had never considered himself arrogant, and he knew that he was strong enough to wipe out whole armies with relative ease. But even he knew that he wouldn't be able to keep that up for long. He required rest after intensive use of magic. Not just a few hours of rest but weeks, months or even years in order to recover his power.

Time was his ally and his biggest weakness all at the same time. He would grow stronger with every second if he was at full power. But once he expended even the weakest spells would result in a few hours of rest. The weaker he was the faster he would recover. The closer he was to full power the slower his his recovery would be as a result.

One thing bothered him a lot though. How had the enemy invaded his cities so easily? Even the smallest cities had hundreds of monks and even the weakest monk was powerful enough to stand against an army.

Six months.

Six months had passed fighting a war he had thought he could win. He was wrong. The two dozen cities he had left had been reduced to six. While they had been taken, the enemy had paid with blood for every street, block and county they took. Bob had chosen after careful deliberation to make his stand now. The six 'cities' left were the most valuable and could be defended the easiest.

If the enemy had one advantage that outdid anything that Bob's allies had to offer it would be numbers. The enemy would throw thousands of soldiers, machines of war at the wards for hours on end.

From what little that Bob managed to find out, the leader had an ability similar to him. He could travel to any reality he knew off. A world of fiction he knew in his world could be a world of reality somewhere out there. The man had used those worlds to improve himself. Make himself stronger. Tougher. Smarter. Bob knew that something had to happen though. Tough wards or not, very defensible positions or not, a war could not be won on the defence.

Bob had lost hundreds of monks. Experienced monks. While their knowledge was available to Yoda, because Yoda was connected to him and Bob was connected to every monk alive. Everything they knew, Yoda knew. No knowledge was lost but valuable experience was.

Many of their remaining dungeon monks were tired. They expelled magic faster then they could recover. Not only that but they couldn't keep resting. All the remaining monks were needed to keep the wards in top condition. They had lost an entire front when they had decided to let those wards weaken just a tiny bit.

The enemy had taken advantage of it faster then they had been able to compensate. Even with his awesome power he wouldn't be able to turn the tide. The few spies he had in his rival's kingdom it had been under attack as well. He had received no request for aid. Something he had fully expected. It would be too late now anyway.

The Dungeon Monk that were the most exhausted were send to the capital. Those that managed to recover at least somewhat were send back to the front. Bob knew that sooner or later he would have to use his secret weapon. His ace in the hole so to speak.

His elite. His guard. Those few that he had chosen to 'uplift' and had trained for centuries, carefully raising those children to be loyal to him but not mindless loyalty. Bob had seen what could happen to fanaticism. If convinced that his or her loyalty was wrong then all of its knowledge would be turned against him. While unlikely to happen it was still an option. That was why he had chosen to try and really earn their friendship.

He had gotten a mix of both. Something far more... Risky to say the least.

Bob returned back to his earlier thoughts. A war couldn't be fought on the defence. How it was going now wasn't an option either. Could he risk retreating to the capital? It still wasn't his own personal dimension because that was an absolute last resort. Call him selfish but he wanted to keep people out of the only place where he could let go the restraints on his power.

Bob could either retreat to the capital, giving his exhausted monks a real chance to rest. It would make the capital a really bad place to attack. A siege would likely take decades.

Or he could mobilize everyone and charge. Take the fight to them. Force them to redeploy units and make them confused.

"I've decided." Bob said to himself. "I can't risk sending all of my people out. I'll just ask for volunteers. If they can setup resistance cells and hit and run attacks it might lay of some of the pressure..."

Six months later...

His hands were tied. He had no choice but to gather all of his forces into one location. The few expedition forces he had deployed had been found and slaughtered. Somehow the enemy could track them down using technological means.

Bob knew that he had very few choices left at this point. Right now their stronghold was impenetrable. It would give them time. He had visited the wing where the few surviving Dungeon Monks babies, toddlers and children were located. Bob could scatter them in every direction. Seal their powers away and teach them how to use those powers once they had matured. The fact remained that they would still grow up very slowly. It would make them unique and easy to track down.

No. that wasn't an option.

Could he kill them? The fathers wouldn't be happy with him and might try to betray him. Try being the key part because they couldn't. The children couldn't even be brainwashed in obeying their orders. The very power that they had would commit suicide rather then allowing the enemy control over one of their own.

In the end the decision had been made for him. The enemy attacked and so did a number of traitors among the non Dungeon Monk and the Dungeon Monk adults. The Dungeon Monks died immediately because of their betrayal and caused the rest of their rebellion to fail. But it had been enough. The wards were weakened and so were the defences.

Bob tried to re-establish the wards to full strength but it was too late. The enemy had a foothold and would be able to drop more and more enemies into their stronghold. Bob had no choice but to lead the survivors to his personal stronghold. It held the majority of the keys and items needed to unseal THAT VAULT. His personal stronghold took the definition of a stronghold and took it beyond the regular rules. It held eighty percent of his personal forces and his personal experiments.

Despite everything, Bob was a selfish man. He hadn't wanted to throw his personal troops into the fight. But now he was forced to do it anyway.

A year later.

Two years after the beginning of the war

For one year his people had been allowed to rest and recover. His personal stronghold guaranteed their protection and enough time to rest. Bob had spent a huge amount of the resources he and the Dungeon Lords had gathered in their time. You never know just how expensive funding a war is until you are the one doing so. Bob had hired mercenary groups to commit to hit and run attacks all over the place.

The results were immediate and predictable. The invading armies were being partially recalled and the enemy spend a lot of time and resources reinforcing their positions.

Their reaction had confirmed something for him though. This so called 'God Emperor' commanded an empire bigger then Bob's nation. But not even he could fight a war on several fronts. Low level spies had told him that he wasn't the only war the 'empire' was committed too.

That confirmed again what this God Emperor was after. The items that he had sealed in THAT vault. One year was enough for Bob to recover with some of the strongest of his Dungeon Monks. The enemy would learn why dungeon monks were so feared when angry.

Fifty years later...

Bob groaned when he received another report that another cell had been found and slaughtered. For fifty years he had fought a losing war against HIM. The self proclaimed God emperor. The arrogance of his alone was enough to make him puke. The fact remained that they were closing in on his stronghold. It had changed into a busy city. A capital city. Literal walls of thick powerful wards protected and made them virtually invisible to the enemy. Unless they knew exactly where to look it would be impossible to find his new city.

Fifty years of constant war had pushed even Bob's seemingly limitless resources to the test. The constant wages that he had to pay for those mercenaries to obey him was bad enough. But the amount of resources he had to use to keep the area safe that held the ward stones was at least two times as expensive.

Ward stones were the very source of any type of ward and highly difficult, dangerous and expensive to create. Ward stones were typically buried beneath the ground, surrounded by traps and other defences. Often they were buried deep beneath existing structures so that these had to be eradicated first before they could even begin and try and locate the ward stones themselves.

Bob not only had to pay to keep the traps in perfect condition but also for the alarms and for the wards themselves. The constant 'passing' of local citizens drained the wards constantly and naturally that meant that the wards required a constant amount of power to stay in top condition.

It was when Bob was away on a highly dangerous mission that would hopefully allow them to go on the offensive for a change. That had been the stupidest thing he could've done. This was the stupidest thing he could ever have done. When Bob returned home he found that the wards were nearly broken. The enemy had known where his stronghold was and had been waiting for him to leave. Bob charged the wards to their maximum power. He could feel the incredible anger of the enemy commander when he realized that Bob had returned already. That anger changed into something else that Bob couldn't identify for a moment.

Then the wards imploded. It meant that they simply stopped working.

Bob had a split second to realize this fact.

'Dungeon monks we are being invaded! This shall be our last stand. For too long have we been on the defensive, let them come and break their teeth on our power! DUNGEON MONKS CHARGE!'

The invading army thought it had reached victory. When they were met by only a few dozen defenders they scoffed and charged like a nest of ants attacking an invading insect. Had they been normal soldiers they wouldn't stand a chance in hell. These were dungeon monks though and Dungeon Monks were compared to Gods on occasion.

Ten thousands of soldiers died in an instant. Hundreds of more fell to the ground with dangerous injuries only to die seconds later because they were trampled by their fellow soldiers. The dungeon monks didn't stop there and truly let loose. All over the capital city the same thing happened. When the initial invading army was eradicated the dungeon monks thought they had won, only to see new enemies appearing but in even higher numbers.

The Dungeon Monks kept slaughtering every army they send in while Bob and his strongest of his elite were trying to set up new wards only to fail for some reason.

The battle kept going. No matter how many they apparently killed more would take their place. The enemy pressed forward while even dungeon monks were forced to fall back.

In the end, Bob was forced to empty his vault again and keep the items with him. He and what was left of his dungeon monks along with soldiers were preparing to flee. They had prepared tons of explosions that would destroy the entire army in their old capital.

Bob and the dungeon monks scattered. They had decided that sticking together wasn't a good idea at this moment. They would dedicate themselves to attack the enemy with hit and run attacks and do as much damage as possible.

Only Bob remained three of his elite. The best of the best. His strongest and closest friends.

Once Bob and his three friends were sure they were far away from any fight they allowed themselves to relax just a tiny bit. It was the next morning that they were confronted with yet another issue that none of them had expected.

Bob's power was telling him a new Dungeon Lord had to be chosen. His own power was rebelling against him. His friends told him they would die with him. There would be only one Dungeon Lord and no dungeon monks when he chose his heir and Bob had already chosen. Or rather his magic had chosen for him.

His magic had chosen Harry Potter. A young wizard that had the potential, natural raw power and the charisma and leadership that was needed for a Dungeon Lord to be successful. Bob used some time to examine the boy's natural time line. Once he knew what would happen with no interference he would decide when to interfere himself.

Bob knew that the moment they met, Harry's power would begin growing very quickly. It was to prepare him for the raw power that a Dungeon Lord had available to him. It would teach him how to control his power.

With GEK hunting Bob and all the remaining dungeon monks the slow ageing of a Dungeon Lord would be very unusual. This would also activate the moment they met. This meant that Bob couldn't visit the boy when he was younger or even take him away from his aunt's home before she found him.

Bob couldn't visit personally. His dungeon monks could though. With few subtle cast curses young Harry's life would be far more comfortable then it would have been if nobody had interfered.

"You could gift young Harry with the power to change his appearance." Yoda offered. "It would stop him from getting any other powers for a long time but it would be worth it."

Bob could have kicked himself. Why hadn't he thought about doing that with the Dungeon Monk babies before they were killed?

Bob would visit Harry, let his power grow and then at his eleventh birthday, the day where he would go and learn to control his power at this magical school he would pick him up and gift him with the power to alter his shape into whatever he wanted to be. It would allow young Harry a chance to study the wizarding world's politics and give him the choice of what sort of friends he wanted.

Bob couldn't resist the urge to meddle some more though. The magical and 'normal' worlds were two sides of he same coin. The magical side got stuck in their development while the 'normal' side flourished. This called for a bit of alterations in their past.

Bob could pretty much do anything he wanted when it came to travelling the multi verse. Only a Dungeon Monk, his rival and a few more powerful beings could navigate it flawlessly by instinct. His interfering with time lines did have one big flaw.

For example, let's say you have time line A. He changes something in time line A to have something more to his liking. Time line A continues as if nothing had happened and time line B is the one where Bob interfered. If something goes wrong in time line B and he goes back to change that then B continues without change but time line C isn't.

To put it in easier terms: the moment he did something, or changed something, a new time line was created immediately. The time line where he made the changes would continue as if nothing had happened at all.

Now we switch to Harry's point of view.
By the end of that the 'real' story will begin.

Harry Potter was stubborn. This was a fact in his live at the Dursley's. His relatives knew it and he knew it. No matter what his aunt and uncle tried he did not break. He did not show weakness. He did not allow himself to feel any emotion when his aunt and uncle -or both- were in a bad mood. They had never really hurt him though. The occasional smack if he really misbehaved but aside from that they left him alone.

For his aunt and uncle he was nothing but an unwanted guest. Someone they couldn't get rid off legally. They would know because they had tried more then once. They had tried to leave him at an orphanage only to find him back at their doorstep the next morning. Since it was obvious that they couldn't get rid of him legally they settled for verbal abuse instead.

When he was seven years old Harry had learned an important rule in his life.

'Do not show weakness to either his aunt or uncle.'
'Do not cry.'

'Do not ask questions.'
'Obey any orders given by his aunt or uncle.'

Harry had learned early that he could interpret their orders in his own way. He would mess up in ways they couldn't blame him for. It had taught Harry the art of being subtle, sneaky and how to tell a half truth. More importantly it had taught Harry when to recognize a half truth being told to him.

Somewhere in the next year Harry learned another rule that was important.

'Respect is not given but it is earned.'

'Refer to aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon as 'Ma'am' and sir in private. Do not refer to them as such at all in public if he could help it. If given no other choice he could call them 'aunt' or 'uncle in public.'

After watching a movie marathon with his cousin, Harry amused himself by fooling around a bit. He tried to mimic the meditation that was mentioned. Harry had purchased the book version of the star wars films after he had watched them so he knew stuff that wasn't mentioned in the films.

Harry had been trying -and failing- to built a toy from LEGO that had been a gift for Dudley.

When he tried again at a hunch to built it while he was meditating he couldn't believe his eyes when he held the finished product in his hands along with several other repaired toys that had been discarded.

Harry kept practising and by his ninth birthday he could settle himself into a state of meditation in seconds.

Unfortunately that was just about the end of it when he was meditating. He could built and repair something through his meditation and he knew where everyone was and what they were doing.

"I want you to clean those gardening tools and then I want you to repair them once they are cleared of any rust. I will take you with me to the local do-it-yourself'' store to get the tools required. If you can make yourself useful and can repair those gardening tools, I will sponsor you for a permanent subscription for the public services and the library so you can expand your studies. I will not tolerate you having bad grades."

Harry cleaned the tools with the products he was given, sharpened the tools that were dull and tried to repair the grass cutter only to find he couldn't. Whenever he fell into his meditating stance it gave him a 'error' message. Harry realized that he couldn't repair something if he didn't know what was wrong with it. So he rented a few books from the library and began studying.

Harry was lucky that it was the summer vacation. He had plenty of time to study and try to repair it. Vernon had apparently realized that while Harry could fix the simpler stuff, a grass cutter wasn't by any means 'simple.' Vernon had bought himself a new grass cutter but his orders remained the same. Repair the grass cutter.

Even with constant studying, Harry knew that it would be impossible to fix it before the beginning of September. Since Vernon hadn't given him a deadline Harry took his time to study his books to try and understand more of mechanical machines.

Harry studied every book he could get his hands on. He really enjoyed taking things apart to see how it worked. Putting it back together correctly was oh so satisfying. He had convinced his aunt and uncle to buy him more advanced tools as well as a few cheap kits for him to experiment with. Harry got what he wanted from them: several kits to help him learn.

Harry's power was already growing quickly as shown by the fact he could repair toys that were broken beyond repair. Since Harry didn't really want to repair the grass cutter he didn't.

End

That's it! Eleven pages. This is the final version of chapter 1. Next chapter will be only five full pages. This way I have three chapters in reserve.

Kingdark