Happy music blared from the television. It was dark, and it was quiet in a small, enclosed space where the boy lived. Darkness washed out everything, from the boy's unnaturally green eyes to the messy black mop of his hair.

There was only breathing in the small cupboard. The sound would not be washed out by the darkness, and a small, huddled form could hear that and be reassured he was alive.

It faded in and out, in times like these. Debating if this was worth it. Wondering who he was, because the happy family in front of the television lied so much.

There were shades of darkness, Harry had learned long ago. Different kinds. It was scary, but it wasn't going to hurt him. They hurt him, so the darkness would protect him.

Breath in, Breath out.

The darkness had no use for what was already hurt. What didn't mind terror anymore, - had learned to deal with it.

So the darkness cradled him instead, and dull green eyes closed, relaxing enough to sleep.

Breath in, Breath out.

Breath in, Breath out.

Breath in, Breath out…


Dreams never came for Harry Potter. Never had the luxury, he was too tired.

Only a form of broken reality was allowed- Flickers of various pieces of memory flashed through a hazy blackness, darting in and out, too fast to see- He didn't even bother trying to do anything about it anymore. There was nothing to see.

Finally, his world began settling into place, and Harry felt a vague floating feeling before he found himself on the cold marble of a chessboard, a vague wind blowing. Hairline cracks interwove in and out of the chessboard grounds.

There were pawns, as Harry could see off, far in the distance. He couldn't see them clearly, but he knew they were there. Watching.

The feeling of now wasn't reality, but there wasn't dreaming to be spoken of- the possibility had passed... He just existed.

Shattered pieces of white and onyx were grouped all around him- in grotesque mounds, similar to a grave. There were bodies to be found on this chessboard, and he found he only felt a detached grief for the fallen.

But who were the fallen? He didn't know.

Green eyes blinked sluggishly.

Bony white fingers brushed the black marble of the chessboard. There was no reality in this world of his. He had no name, so he had to make one. He was given so many. He didn't have his own, did he...? Nothing to call his very own. And for some reason, that made him sad. He had no toys. No life. No dreams. No goodness. Fear accompanied him, as did anger, hope, and bravery. But they weren't his. Cunning swirled around him like a snake, but he was his own being.

So did he have himself?

Not now. But he would, if he tried. So…would he try?

Suddenly, a silent choice was made and Harry felt himself walking across the chessboard, his feet careful not to disturb the graves of the fallen.

He jerked to a stop, turned. He was standing in the middle of the chessboard. He began walking again, and soon his feet took him to the edge of the chessboard.

He was himself, so he would not remain as a pawn on this chessboard. He would claim himself for himself, so…

Knees crouched, and Harry sprung into the blackness outside of the chessboard.

There was a new player that had to be found, after all...It was boring to play with one's self. Wind rushed around him, and he grinned, unafraid as he fell.

The greedy hands of the abyss swallowed him, and Harry plunged into the unknown, a startled laugh erupting from his lips.

Up, up and away…


"UP! GET UP! NOW!" a familiar screech awoke the small boy from his spot on the floor, startling him from his dream. Bleary green eyes opened, half-wondering if he imagined the screech. But alas, he did not- as he quickly discovered when a terribly loud rapping noise made itself clear through the small space. " Up!" A last screech, and he heard her walking away.

Harry sighed. Today was about to be hell, he was sure. A loud thumping noise jerked his attention upwards, and Dust and dead bodies of spiders began falling from the ceiling. He felt a wry, bittersweet smile tug across his face as he realized it was his cousin Dudley, whose birthday was today. Ah, he was sure to have an absolutely miserable day...the boy thought mindlessly with a small, grim satisfaction in predicting what always happened.

Not that he didn't have any good days, per say. Simply it would be saying that it would be much more horrid than usual.

The thumping continued, and Harry morbidly wondered if his elephant-like cousin would break through the stairs and squish him dead, as to not face the day.

Alas- he did not in fact, fall through the stairs, but instead began running down said stairs and into the kitchen, where he would be mothered and, dare he say it- cuddled by his horse of a mother. The mere thought sent a shudder down his spine, but he ignored it and pushed the door open. He had to make breakfast, after all...

And so he walked out of the small cupboard, leaving the safety of darkness to face the day. A big, colorless top that used to be his cousin's swished around his knobby knees as a tiny hand reached for the kitchen door handle.

Welcome back to reality, Mister Potter. Something's about to happen.


Authoress's Note: I have come up with a slightly twisted idea for this particular fanfiction. I am rather...new, at this. So try not to hate too much...-smiles apologetically- Actually, I'm trying to improve my writing skills in doing this. I hope you can give me some tips and advice. Uhm...This is a simple and short Prologue, so, yeeeesss...I think it may turn out a-typical for a beginning, but I do have this idea I want to spin out. I hope you can stick with me throughout the story, whoever you are.

Please Review? Thank you. Oh! yes. I don't own Harry Potter. I do own my ideas.