A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first fanfic and I'm frankly scared as hell that it will be the worst thing ever... ^.^

So anyway... This is just a little idea I had. I'm not sure yet how long/short this will get - let's just let the story be told. There might be a little Character bashing, but I'm not entirely sure yet. I'll definitely mention it in the ANs though!

If you find any errors, mistakes, etc. please let me know, as I do not have a Beta yet. I offend tend to write certain Characters (like Harry) too OOC. So if something seems too weird, don't hesitate to tell me!

And by the way: I do really enjoy reviews, so don't forget to leave 'em (flames will be used to roast marshmallows, so don't worry about 'em... I got it covered)

So without further ado (except for the Disclaimer) I present "Miscalculations"

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the words I used. I merely claim their order and the characters and places I invented. Everything else belongs to the one and only J.K. Rowling. Should the situation concerning the ownership of Harry Potter change in my favor I will notify you. However since I'm pretty much broke, I gues it willstay right where it is.

XxXxXx(1950s)xXxXxX

"You wouldn't believe what a single drop of blood can change. It is a single drop that decides whether a wound is fatal or not. A single drop of blood suffices to determine if it is compatible with another type. A single drop of blood can be used to discover your true parents.

But most importantly, a single drop of blood can give you power. A power so great even the most ancient mages fear it, for it is more ancient than even they can imagine.

Blood Magic has been known to be one of the very first practical uses of magic. However, all magic has to come from somewhere. While Blood Magic is indeed old and dates back to the first scrolls ever written on magic, there is said to be a form of magic, so long forgotten, that even the powerful druids didn't know about it. A magic from which blood magic and ultimately every other magical practice originated.

Legend has it, the magic is so powerful, it was used to create non-magical humans in the first place. Of course modern wizards and witches have discovered this to be fairy tale. Now if you are interested in the History of magical uses, I explain it all in my new book 'Magic – A History of our Power' which thoroughly describes my research."

With that the old man sitting on a large desk in front of an equally large audience concluded his speech. Slowly the people started to scatter around the bookshop, still chatting excitedly about what they just heard. It took a while for every single one of them to lose interest in the speaker. When all the ado died down a figure in black robes headed toward the researcher. If one of the customers in the shop would have looked closely, they would have seen robes so black, they seemed to eat away all the light.

"Asterios Julius Hibbernatch", said the figure, the low pitched voice not giving away even a hint of emotion, "It is quite interesting to finally meet you."

The old man, Hibbernatch, seemed to be startled by the sudden appearance of yet another admirer, but he caught himself immediately. "It is always a pleasure to meet one's fans. What can I do for you? Do you want me to sign a copy of my book?"

Still devoid of emotions and completely unfazed by Hibbernatch's enthusiasm, the figure spoke four words: "You know too much."

As soon as he spoke the words, all the torches and candles illuminating the shop were extinguished, leaving the shop in an unnatural darkness, despite the sunlight flowing in through the window. A few customers let out startled cries of surprise, but before anyone could ask any questions the light came back with a blinding force.

While everyone present tried to get out of the shop as quickly as possible, no one seemed to notice the missing author. It would be years and a depressing war later, that his dead body suddenly appeared in front of the office of the newly sworn in Head of the DMLE, Amelia Susan Bones. It was most curious however, that there were no signs as to how one Mr. Asterios Hibbernatch died. Not even the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries could find a cause of death. To them it seemed as if Hibbernatch was still alive. Just not in the body in front of them.

While the Unspeakables were still trying to solve the mystery of the undead corpse, a little boy, merely a babe, still didn't know what the future would hold for him. Then again, not even the future was sure what to think of this peculiar boy.

XxXxXx(1987)xXxXxX

"Get up Boy!"

It was fairly normal for seven-year-old Harry James Potter to be woken up by the screaming, screeching voice of his aunt Petunia. It was also normal for him to be given a list of chores every day. You see Harry Potter was a slave. Now don't go ahead saying slavery is dead. Maybe it is dead, but it is far from extinct. One of Harry's classmates once did a presentation on Slaves and since then Harry was pretty sure he was a slave.

But who was he to complain. From what he learned from his own research into slavery, he had it good – well not good, but… you know... There were no death sentences, he got food – well most of the time. Harry was in no way trying to defend his relatives. He didn't like living with them. He hated them to be honest. But he liked not living on the streets.

So as it was a normal day, Harry got his list of chores and went to go about his day, hoping that his Cousin would leave him alone.

He was tending aunt Petunia's roses, when Dudley decided he didn't like the show he was watching anymore and got bored. It was usually never good when Dudley got bored. At least for Harry. It usually meant a lot of pain and a lot of bruises.

"What are you doing Cousin?", Dudley asked trying to sound as sweet as possible.

"Leave me alone Dudley please. I have to do all of this stuff today and I'm not even close to finishing.", Harry replied motioning toward the list of chores in his pocket.

Still failing to sound sweet Dudley told him: "You know I called Pierce over and we were hoping to play another round of Harry Hunting."

As soon as he heard this, Harry scrambled to his feet, wanting to run away. But he was too slow. He didn't even get to start running, when Dudley landed his first punch. Ignoring the pain, Harry ran and climbed through the secret hole in the garden's fence – Dudley hot on his heels.

Harry would actually have enjoyed this game of tag, if it weren't for the price that came with losing. He still remembered one time when they broke his arm while playing. So instead of laughing he was crying for help. But for some strange reason no one seemed to hear him. Heck not even the people in their front yards seemed to notice him running past them.

He was just nearing the playground, when he stumbled and hit his head hard on the ground. The last thing he saw before he blacked out, was his cousins smirking face. It looked positively evil.

XxXxXxX

A/N: That's it for now! I hope you liked it.

Cya soon(er or later ^^ )!