AUTHOR'S NOTE: to my readers who were hoping for a continuation of my other story…too bad…this one wouldn't leave me alone.
Disclaimer: I'm not a JK Rowling...surprise
and here we go prolouge...
Harry Potter lay on a bed in a small room filled with cheap and dilapidated furniture, and an assortment of broken televisions and computers. Scattered on the floor were books with interesting titles like Quidditch Through the Ages and Standard Book of Spells: Grade Five. The boy in question was scrawny with jet-black hair and emerald green eyes. Currently he was staring at the glowing red digits of the clock on his bedside table.
For the moment the inexorable march of time seemed to have stalled. Harry mentally willed time to speed up. After what seemed an eternity the clock finally changed to midnight. It was now July 31st and Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world was sixteen years old, and he promptly blacked out…
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