Chapter 1: On the Manners of Fate, or the lack thereof
It is often said that fate rarely reveals its path to the unsuspecting victim, and that while psychics can see the future of others, they can never see the future of themselves. In this aspect, fate becomes a weapon of torture and hope, for how often is karma used to inspire fear and kindness and how often is the fate of death a source of relief? Humans have long attempted to explain and understand this shrouded concept with little success. All that is known is that some will rise from its manipulations victorious while others will fall into a pit so deep there is never a hope of climbing out. With these two possibilities, human beings live their lives hoping for the former; spurning the latter, and wondering about the manner in which their captor works.
The purpose of this diatribe, is to introduce a little tale I -- the narrator -- would like to tell you about one newborn child who started out his life in the hands of fate and inevitably ended it in the hands of fate. Whether that ending is good or bad...is of course up to the perspective of the reader.
Once upon a time, there lived a child named Harry James Potter. With his tiny fingers and his tiny toes, his jet black hair and his verdant gaze, he exited his mother's womb on the date of July 30, 2009 a mere fifteen seconds after his elder sister. Here fate's feet leave prints, for who else would offer the gift of twins to a father stuck in tradition and a mother stuck in fear? James Bradley Potter was well known throughout the wizarding world for his conservative beliefs. So when it was heard that his wife, Lilian Marie Potter, gave birth to twins, it was obvious the youngest would be either given up for adoption or ignored, because in wizarding tradition, the youngest is shunned to make the decision of heir both easier and more obvious.
As the years passed by, young Harry was not given up for adoption, but treated like a ghost. As a toddler, he was given enough food to merely stay alive while his sister feasted on evening dinners and tasty treats. At the age of seven, Harry walked down the streets of Hogwarts looking for something to do with his time while onlookers shook their heads in pity. Harry knew not his place in the world, but as he grew up, he quickly came to learn his place in the Potter household. None. Harry knew that he had no place in the hearts of his parents, and that if it wouldn't bring shame upon them in the modern world they lived in, his father would quickly disown Harry for a crime Harry had no control over. In the beginning, it hurt to know that a mere fifteen seconds cost him a loving home and an attentive sister. He often wished he wasn't a twin and that he was either never born, or born on a completely different date nine months later.
"Good morning Mr. Florish. Good morning Mr. Blotts."
"Well hello, Avery. What are you doing out on such a chilly morning? You should be in bed."
""Ah...boredom...A most dreadful curse. It drains the mind of peace and robs the body sleep." Besides, Mr. Blotts. If I should be in bed, you should be cacooned."
"Did you just call me old?"
"Of course not, sir. Merely a bit creaky."
Harry smiled while Mr. Blotts pouted. For the past two years, Henry Blotts and Andrew Florish have been father figures to Harry. They were the first and only to assure Harry that if his family was ever foolish enough to disown him, he was more than welcome to come into theirs. They not only accepted him, but taught him a lot more than his parents were ever willing to.
"My goodness...How old are you now?"
"Three years and one too many months away from a wand."
"And have you been practicing your teachings? You know..."
"Yes yes. Talent never undermines practice. I've been meditating twice a day, seven days a week, four weeks a month, and twelve months a year.
"Cheeky little brat. Make yourself useful and help those customers over there."
"With pleasure, sir!"
As Harry mock marched himself over to the customers, he couldn't help remembering the first time he met the two aging men behind the counter two years ago. He'd been following his parents, but they never looked back and Harry never looked forward, so he got lost somewhere in between and wandered in. He was only five-years-old that time and when they asked him who his parents were, he didn't know how to respond.
The little bell above the door of Florish and Blotts softly dinged, and a five-year-old Harry Potter walked in. He looked around with all the curiousity of a toddler, and wandered through the legs of men and women like they were doorways and passages.
"Hold there, wandering imp! How gain you entry?"
Mr. Florish was the first one to grab the green-eyed child and hoist him up into his arms and over to the counter. With a spell, the owner increased the volume of his voice, and announced that there was "the most adorable little imp at the front desk," and requested that the "parents of said adorable litle imp come and collect him immediately." Each parent checked and accounted for their child, so no one came up to claim young Harry. As time passed by, it became clear that the parents weren't in the store.
"Not a one, dear child? Wherever did you come from?"
"-pan! O-pan!"
"O-pan? Aren't you old enough to make sentences?"
"-pan!"
"I think he's saying he's an orphan, Henry."
"I know that Andrew. All I'm saying is he's got to be at least four. He should be able to pronounce his "r"s."
"You do have a point. Maybe no one's taught him to speak."
"Well he must have had some authoritative figure in his life if he knows the word 'orphan.' So I repeat, where did he come from?"
Hours went by and they couldn't seem to get an answer out of the green-eyed imp, and Mr. Blotts grew more and more frustrated with Harry's inability to speak.
"It's ridiculous, Andrew! All these years, and no one's bothered to teach the child how to speak!?"
"Henry..."
"He doesn't even know his own name!"
Henry and Andrew took young Harry home, and it was already clear that Henry was growing emotionally attached.
"You always do this, Henry. You find a sob case and feel compelled to help. This one time, can't you just let it go and search for the child's parents?"
"L-Let it go? How could you be so heartless? The child is functioning at a level two years below his age. We have to help him, Andrew."
"And what would you suggest we do? Teach him ourselves? That would take months, and the parents are bound to start looking for him by then."
"But he's an orphan, remember? What if he has no parents?"
"Oh my good God. You wouldn't."
"But it's a wonderful idea!"
"No! It's a terrible idea! We don't know how to take care of a child."
"It can't be that hard! All you have to do is feed him, play with him, and teach him how to speak and read and write."
"Of course! That's definitely as easy as you make it sound! Don't you remember that we're business men? We hardly have the time."
"But Andrew..."
"No, Henry. We don't even know what he eats. What if he's a creature. Things like that don't show up in scans."
"Then we'll find out as time goes on. If it ends up that he's a creature, we'll send him to an orphanage. Until then, please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please!?"
"No! My God! Do you know what you're tying yourself to!? A child! A toddler!"
"I'm willing to commit myself to him."
"Those sound like lifetime vows, Henry. Be careful what you say!"
"I mean it. I'm willing to commit to him!"
"Oh my-! You know what!? Fine! Go ahead and keep him. Just remember that if he does have parents, and they come looking for him, we are giving him back immediately. Clear?"
"Crystal. You won't regret it!"
"Ha! I'm already regretting it."
Needless to say, Andrew didn't regret it. Before Harry's parents came looking for Harry, Andrew grew just as attached as Henry. When news of the Potter search for their lost child reached the two men, they did everything they could to hide young Harry from the public, and it lasted quite a while until someone blabbed that they saw Harry through their kitchen window. Henry and Andrew both knew that if Harry was found in their house after they were questioned about him nearly five times, they would be charged with kidnapping. After nurturing him for nearly a year, the wizards knew it was time they let him go. By this time, Harry was speaking above his level, reading above his level, and writing clear and legible sentences. In the end, Harry never did tell them his name, and the two aging men let him think they didn't learn it from the newspapers. They spent Christmas and New Years together before leaving him on James Potter's doorstep. They rang the doorbell and apparated away before anyone answered. Between the ages of six and seven, Harry grew colder and colder to the parents which still refered to him as an orphan (a word he now quite clearly knew the meaning of), while growing warmer and warmer to a family he saw once a day and accepted him. Rumours still circulated that it was the two owners of Florish and Blotts that kidnapped young Harry, but no one quite had the guts to accuse the esteemed businessmen.
AUTHOR NOTE:
Well here it is. This is the first chapter, and I have to say that I enjoyed writing it. Please Read and Review.
Til' next time.