It's a quiet night where the story begins. More specifically, at an average neighborhood, at an average house, with an average family consisting of one average husband and one average wife, with one average child, and one abnormal child sleeping in a normal cupboard an-

Wait. What?

You read right. One Harry James Potter was sleeping peacefully in the cupboard belonging to the Dursleys, with not a care in the world.

Or not.

Harry was in fact, not sleeping peacefully. His small, nine year old body, was moving back and forth on his small bed, in the midst of a nightmare. In seconds, however his body shot up, gasping for breath with sweat pouring down his face.

His nightmare, or remembrance really, was about what happened, just yesterday...

(-)(-)

Harry Potter was, for a lack of better terms, a prodigy. What others saw as logic, predictability, facts and figures, even aerodynamics, Harry Potter just saw as common sense. His only vice, was that he was lazy as hell.

Anyway...

It was apparently a normal day for Harry, as he was walking to his first class of the day. He walked in, put away his coat and shoulder bag, and sat in his assigned seat. Then sat in silence, leaning back with his feet up on the desk, till class began.

Students around him, more or less ignored him, for no reason other than the fact that, he was smarter than them.

This was how Harry Potter's days went. Get up, cook breakfast, get ready for school, go to school, get ignored at school, go home, cook dinner, go to sleep, repeat. A very boring and understandably bland life.

But this day, was different.

Unknown to the students, a man was coming to the school to examine all of the students, and if necessary, recommend them for advanced classes.

And it would just so happen that Harry's class was the first one he was to watch.

(-)(-)

No one noticed Mr. Willfy as he creeped into the class just before it was to begin. He was a man of average build, coming to about 5 feet 7 inches, wearing a brown suit, with a white button up shirt, brown slacks, and normal white socks.

He took his place in the back of the, small, 15 by 20 classroom, by one of the three windows in the class. After getting adjusted to the chair he was sitting in, he did a once over of the students. He of course didn't expect much from 4th graders, and so was hoping the class would go by quickly.

Most of the students seemed average, if not below average, (CoughDudleyCough) but there was one boy that caught his attention, being all alone.

He looked at the class roster. Harry Potter, it showed. Mr. Willfy looked back at the boy, who was sitting in the very back right corner of the room, feet propped up on the desk, chair leaning back, and a sketchbook on his lap, a pencil and eraser in his hands.

The boy was wearing, what appeared very out of shape hand-me-downs, clothes too big for him, worn out trainers, and slacks that were just barely staying, aided by the worn belt around his hips.

Shifting in his seat, Mr. Willfy looked over the students shoulder, at the sketchbook.

And was promptly left gaping.

In the lap of Harry Potter was an incredible, half finished, detailed profile of a young girl, and looking at the class found the girl in question sitting with her friends, oblivious to the art being drawn in her likeness.

This caused Mr. Willfy to pay closer attention to details of the boy then he might have before. Details, like how his hair looked to be an uncontrollable mess, how he wore round, out of style glasses, and had the creepiest green eyes he had ever seen.

Yes, he would be paying attention to Mr. Potter, indeed.

(-)(-)

The class was already almost over before the teacher seeming ended class early.

"Alright everyone, I've got some stuff to deal with so you can all go out for recess."

There was short cheer from the students as some ran out of the class, others getting there coats from the side of the room. Meanwhile, Mr. Willfy made his way to the front of class, and informed the teacher of the only student that had caught his interest. She seemed surprised.

"Potter? Are you sure? That boy never pays any attention in class, and I'm sure he bullys other kids into doing his homework; he's always getting good grades!"

"I'm sure madam."

She just sighed. "Alright then I have him take the test after recess is over."

"Thank you madam. If you could just take the test to me in the teachers lounge, at noon, that's when I'll be grading today's tests."

And so he left never noticing the attentive green eyes watching him as he left.

(-)(-)

It was almost two o' clock, 30 minutes after all classes had ended for the day, when he had finally gotten to Harry Potter's test. He had started with the highest grade level(8th) and work his way down. It had taken so long, for there were quite a few students in the 8th and 7th grades with potential, and in actuality the test was quite long. It had questions about a variety of subjects, mostly the norm. such as history, science, math, etc. There were some questions that pertained to things like modern technology,and other things like that. At the very end was an essay that any of the topics givin in a box to the side could have been written about.

He stretched and took hold of his tea that he had set down only moments ago. He held it in his hand as he fliped to the very back of Harry's test, deciding to grade the essay first(if Harry had even compleated the whole test) then grade the rest.

He was just sipping the tea when his eyes scanned the essay...

...And promptly spit it all out in a coughing fit, spurred on by the surprise of what he read in the essay.

Probability and Coincidence: A Theory of Quantum Immortality By: Harrold J. Potter

(-)(-)

It was in the papers the next day- today. The news was all over Europe. A prodigy child, the papers told, a child who might solve all of humanity's problems. Harry James Potter was quickly becoming as famous in the muggle world as he was in the wizarding one.

And Uncle Vernin was anything but happy for his nephew.

Hence, the broken wrist.

'Enough with the thoughts of the past.' He said to himself shifting on the small cot. The cupboard was dark, as always. Uncle Vernin didn't appriciate the electricty bill as it was, always complaining that it was Harry using his light at night, running up the bill.

So Harry took out the light.

Even though he was consistantly robed in darkness, there were some benifts. His uncle never complained at Harry any more. About the electricity bill that was. Another thing was his night vision was outstanding, able to adjust with just the blink of an eye. Though that shouldn't be scientificly possible.

Shifting again, Harry watched a rare stream of moonlight come through the slot of the door. In its wake he could see little particals of dust, floating in the air.

"I'm not going to get to sleep again am I?" He mumbled out to no one.

He sighed, knowing it was inevitable. His mind wandered to his previous thoughts of himself. There were quite a few things about himself that shouldn't be possible. Like the teacher's hair turning blue. Or the time when he dissapered from the playground, to the school roof.

That one was his favorite. After all, who wouldn't like the ability to teleport! The outcomes whould be astronomical.

Not to mention that if he could teleport, he wouldn't have to put the extra energy into actually walking or running.

He grinned to himself. 'I'm gonna find a way to do that at will, if its the last thing I do...'

(-)(-)

A/N: Alright... 'Bout time I got something out... This is another writer's block reliever... I'll get more chapters for all my stuff up soon enough.