A/N: By my calculations, which were never actually calculated, this is the Prologue of one of my N&I stories. Oh yeah, if you find anything glaringly wrong don't be afraid to mention it.
Narration: Harry was in Olivander's wand shop. (Excerpts are in Italics)
Speech: "I remember every wand I ever sold..."
Thoughts: 'I doubt that'
Spells: -Stupefy
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Story Begins Here
Quirrell cursed under his breath.
"I don't understand is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"
Harry's mind was racing.
What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, he thought, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?
He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself.
"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"
And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself. (Taken from Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone)*
In another universe Voldemort would have answered with 'the boy' all pedophile like. In this universe Harry was a little faster. that didn't mean he had anything good to say.
"Break it." As Quirell stared at him blankly he explained "I would break it, so break it." Harry already had the Stone in his pocket he might as well bluff. What's the worst that could happen. The Worst happened when Quirell broke the mirror.
"Bloody Hell." That was all Harry got out before he was bombarded with shards of enchanted glass, which also just so happened to be sharp enchanted glass. The shards hurt about as much as regular sharp glass to Harry. So Harry lay on the floor dazed, covered in numerous cuts, while Quirell was unconscious. Well, that was anti-climatic. That's when Dumbledore in all his lemon-drop glory got there.
He took in the room, his eyes stopping on Quirell's body. He brought out his wand and began to cast spells upon it. After a few minutes in which Quirell's body did nothing Dumbledore began inspecting the broken mirror. He soon questioned Harry on what had happened to the artifact.
"Harry, My Boy, can you inform me of what took place?" Harry scuffed the toe of his shoe while staring intently at the stone floor.
"I...uh told him to break the...uh mirror, and he... uh did." Let it be known that Harry wasn't one for grand explanations." Dumbledore, using nothing but pure will, got Harry to lift his head. Looking intently into Harry's eyes he asked a question that made Harry freeze. "What of the Stone My Boy?"
Harry was between a Wizard and a broken Mirror. I mean a Rock and a Hard Place. Harry had had few selfish thoughts in his life. Mostly being about eating a healthy meal, not sleeping in a cupboard, and wanting a nice family. Totally selfish.
However, he wanted the jagged rock in his pocket. If it only severed the purpose of something to look at over the summer. It was awfully pretty. So with new reserve he told the first lie he had ever told out of selfishness.
"I don't know Headmaster." Dumbledore gazed in to Harry's eyes and had his own searched by expressive emerald ones. They pleaded with him to believe him. To let him have something to be just his. "Can I go back to the my room? I'm feeling a tad tired." Dumbledore simply smiled his grandfatherly smile, twinkled his eyes, and gave him permission.
Break
Harry lay in his four poster bed. What was he doing you may ask. He was staring at his new Treasure. It was beautiful in a unearthly way. It was smooth yet had jagged edges. It also seemed to change colors in the light from a startling crimson to a deep vermilion. When harry clenched it with his fist, he felt a deep power coming from it.
Harry would tell no one of his new Treasure. It was his no matter what anyone said. He had nothing of his own that was of such beauty. Nothing that hadn't been his to just have forever. He would not use it. No, using it would only taint the purity of it that he come to enjoy. It was simply his Treasure, nothing more and nothing less. Harry wrapped it in his Invisibility Cloak, and left the room giving several glances to his trunk on the way out*. He wouldn't be leaving it's company at all, his friends however were waiting on him.
Break
Harry and Co. were in a compartment on the Hogwart's Express. They were idly chatting about mundane things. Through out it all Harry had one powerful urge. It was to bring out his Treasure and feel it's smooth yet jagged edges. It was an urge similar to the pull of the Mirror of Erised. It was bearable, but as long as he thought of it, it grow stronger.
The only difference he could discern was that this would be remedied as soon as he entered his bedroom at the Dursley's home. He kept his wand in his hand, as that usually helped to soothe him. It always seemed to give off a faint song that only he could hear. He had once contemplated researching it, but did not as he felt that would take away it's effectiveness. Sometimes ignorance truly was bliss.
The train stopped and they exited the Express. Harry watched as his friends were embraced by their families. It made his stomach turn. He had never had that, He looked at his relatives who stood stiffly. They would never want him in that way. The only solace in the situation was that he didn't want them in that way either.
Break
It had been a month, give or take a few days, since term had ended. Harry lay on the bed in his small, yet strangely clean for a boy his age, room. After never making it to any barber his hair had become shaggy. It now, instead of sticking all over the place, laid down and covered his eyes. Despite Vernon's protests of his 'scruffiness' there was nothing to be done for it.
His hair however, in his Harry;s opinion, wasn't of great concern. Harry, our lovable protagonist, was close to an anxiety attack. Why? His relatives had locked his things in his old cupboard as soon as he reached the terrible residence. The only magical object he had was his wand, which he had slipped in his pocket when he reached Pvt. Drive. The most irritable thing was that he couldn't hold his Treasure.
Where the urge had once been easily cast aside, it now encompassed his entire being. He tried throwing himself into his chores hoping to distract his mind. This had the effect of increasing the strength of his 'still to scrawny' body. The muscle he had acquired from rigorous Quiditch practices had only been added too.
Harry had also taken to reading the books bought for Dudley over the years. They had been simply left in the room as he never used them. Aside form small spots of dust they were perfect. He found a few books that were surprisingly interesting.
The books in question were centered around the art of Meditation and Martial arts. The Martial Arts books only covered the basics and a few of the intermediate stances. However even that had taken to occupying his time. He started a regiment of basic exercises i.e. push-ups, sit-ups, and even running around the neighborhood.
Tonight however, nothing could take Harry's mind away from his Treasure. He tried forcing himself to sleep, but it had taken to invading his dreams. It taunted him with it's closeness and his inability to stand up to his relatives. Harry tried exhausting his body, but even that didn't work.
So Harry Potter lay on the bed in his room, muscles burning, and his will crumbling due to thoughts of his Treasure.
Break
Harry stared blankly at his Uncle as he tried to force his will upon him. He was more occupied with how close he was to his Treasure. Apparently his relatives were having a dinner party and were trying to instruct him to remember his place in it. He was told to pretend he did not exist.
He would have been glad to pretend such a thing if he had his Treasure. Ignoring the rest of his Uncle's words, Harry walked up the stairs and to his room. When he opened the door he was confronted with a...something sitting quietly on his bed.
"Why are you in my room?" As Harry asked the question he began to take the image of the creature in. It was a short thing, only coming up to Harry's knee, and was wearing a pillowcase. It also had bright green eyes that were the size of tennis balls. It began to yell his name which it had weighed down with titles that irritated him. "Stop flattering me, it only makes me sleepy. Just tell me what you want." Harry spoke with a defeated tone and conceded that he didn't have the energy to argue. The creature, not to be delayed by his tone, gazed up at Harry with it's expressive eyes.
"Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts." Harry stared at the creature in a way that made it fidget. It thought Harry would attack it in anger. Harry was actually contemplating it's demand.
"Sure, I won't go back." It was a complete lie, but no one needed to know that. The creature bowed it's head and left with a surprisingly loud 'pop'. In the place where it had stood, lay a bundle of letters. He picked it up and went through them. They were from his friends. He better mail them, Hermione had a tendency to rant when she thought he was being lazy.
Break
It was a week before school began and Harry was no longer at his relative's home. He had convinced his Uncle to take him to London a little after his twelfth birthday. Harry had taken up lodging at the Leaky Cauldron. It was in the cusp of Diagon Alley. Harry had, using his list which was delivered by owl this time*, took the initiative and bought all of his school supplies.
He had visited Ollivander's and bought a standard holster for his wand. He had actually bought two. The second had been modified, by Ollivander of course, to be of correct size for his Treasure. Ollivander didn't know what it was for and was happy to be of help.
Harry had kept up his Martial Arts and had even bought some more of the intermediate books in one of his few trips to Muggle London. He also furthered his personal library with books on meditation and basic Spellwork. He had, while in Diagon Alley, found a shop that specialized in eye wear. He had bought a pair of glasses that made his others seem like they had been made of frozen swamp water.
All in all Harry was happy. He had his Treasure, he could now see to the best of his abilities, and he was stronger and faster than when he had left Hogwarts. He had no worries now that he was in the magical world. His friends were no longer worried as he had lied and said that Hedwig had been sick. Yep, Harry Potter's life was pretty good.
A/N: Comments, concerns, and anything else you can fit in a review. I'm also looking for an HP beta, so give me suggestions. PM them or whatever.
*This is not exact events mind you. Harry didn't obtain the Stone until after the fact, but I just had him look in the mirror and get the stone before all that nonsense.
*Students of Hogwarts don't carry their trunks to the carriages just like they don't bring them up to the castle. They are retireved from the luggage rack on the train. It is easy to find because of Magic.
*Hagrid gave him his first school list and letter, that he was able to read anyway.