Boy-who-is-God?
It was not until the end of last year's term at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry that a discovery was made about the boy-who-lived.
Mr. Harry James Potter, a fourth year returning student of Hogwarts at the time, had barely won the Triwizard tournament when a certain incident revealed that the boy-who-lived might actually be the long awaited wizard god that many pureblood wizarding families worship.
If the symbols on Mr. Potter's back is anything to go by, which this reporter is very convinced, we might just actually be in the presence of the magical god ; Asclepius.
The Myth surrounding Asclepius states that this legendary God was a healer of sorts. Others state that the dark snake god created many of the deadly curses used today by many a dark wizard including He-who-must-not-be-named.
This reporter is very confused at this certain time as are many others in the ministry. This is what the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge had to say: "We are most excited to be in the presence of such a great god. The ministry of course will be providing for all of The Lord's needs."
This reporter is very sure that we will be hearing about 'Lord' Harry Potter for a long time to come.
Rita Skeeter,
Special Correspondent
A certain raven haired boy sat in a luxurious suite reading the very article about himself. His fists unknowingly crumpled the paper. Harry Potter sighed and threw the ball of paper into the rubbish bin.
A nock sounded on his door. "Come in." He said, un-used to people politely knocking on his door. His frown deepened when the Minister of Magic himself popped in looking excited; which worried Harry.
The elderly man with his pin-stripped suit smiled at Harry in what he must have though as 'charming'. "Good afternoon my lord." Fudge greeted. The green eyed wizard sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Please don't call me that Minister."
Fudge laughed. "Of course Mr. Potter." The emerald eyed boy rubbed his temple, hoping to evade the on coming headache. "What can I do for you Minister?"
Fudge clasped his bowler hat between his hands as he took a seat. "The ministry is holding a welcoming party tomorrow evening in honor of you Harry. There will be many people appearing to see you." The elderly wizard held up his hands before the boy could complain.
"This party means a lot towards those who do worship the gods. I'm afraid that you simply cannot miss this party Harry." he said sadly. Harry groaned in defeat, making Fudge smile. "I do believe that your friends and a very special guest will be there. Good evening." he said before leaving Harry to his thoughts.
Said teen flopped himself down on the big bed. 'Special guest'? he thought to himself.
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Harry woke the next morning by a rather excited tailor. "How can you be so cheerful this early?" he growled.
"Can you blame him Harry? He is serving a wizard god after all Harry." Harry turned to scowl at none other than Professor Albus Dumbledore; Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Harry could feel a deep anger boil in his blood. He clenched his jaw tight lest he loose his temper with the elderly wizard.
"And when were you going to inform me on this little tidbit Professor?" he said venomously, gesturing towards his back. "Or the little secret you keep locked up inside of your mind, hmmm?" he continued when the old man did not continue.
Professor Dumbledore blinked at him. "I don't know what you are talking about Harry." Harry scowled at the elderly headmaster, grinding his teeth together.
"You cannot fool me sir. I know that your keeping a secret from me. I can hear your thoughts after all." Harry said with as much venom as he could.
The instant he said that the headmaster's mind attempted to shut Harry out; proving His point. "How long." Dumbledore asked, his baby blues no longer sparkling.
"I've been able to read people's thoughts ever since I could remember." Harry said keeping his tone low so that the eccentric seamstress would not over hear them.
Dumbledore sighed, steepling his long bony fingers. "I will ask that you do not try to rip the information that you want Harry. It will come to you in due time."
Harry grunted in response. The tailor appeared minuets later with many fabrics. The poor wizard blinked and stared between the angry teen and the silent professor. "I will see you later tonight then Harry." The teen merely gave another grunt.
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Author's note: I seem to have come to a complete dead end in 'Peorcelin Masks'. I just cannot find anything to keep the story going. I cant help but feel sad over the lose of the plot. Hopeful this little bit will be a bit more that a failure.