AN: Hello! This is my first fanfiction, so please don't be too harsh, although I'll welcome any advice you can give! Also, it's highly likely I'll forget to mention this in other chapters, but I do not own Harry Potter nor the idea of a Dark Harry posing as Voldemort's son. Also, I will probably go rather fast through Harry's early life so that A. I can add flashbacks that don't have to be something I've already written, and B. It'd probably be really dang boring! Now that that's out of the way, to the story!
"Good morning! Harry! Get out of bed! It's your brothers birthday today, and your mother and I decided the three of us should bake him a surprise!" Father announced, a giant grin on his face.
'Bet he won't do anything this special for my birthday tomorrow' Harry grumbled, his brother, Griffith, was the boy-who-lived, he had been born just moments before July became August, which made him fit a prophecy. Harry was born only a minute after, but the clock had already passed midnight. Sometimes Harry joked to himself that their clock had been off or they were switched at birth, but of course, witches and wizards wouldn't be stupid enough to make that kind of mistake would they? If that were true, Harry thought he fit so much better than his stupid little brother. But of course, everyone had to worship the little boy-who-lived, on his fifth birthday. Mother and Father always talked about how Griffith would be a great wizard when he grew up. If Harry ever asked, Mother and Father would say they were sure he would be good to, but that he should never aspire to be something he's not.
Harry jumped out of bed, if he took too long, he'd probably get a talking-to from Mother about how do is half of done and he shouldn't waste time on getting up, it built bad habits. He hurriedly roughly transfigured his clothes into something like robes. His brother had burnt his old robes and Harry knew Mother and Father wouldn't believe him if he told them the truth. His transfiguration wasn't great, the robes seemed stiff and when light went on them they had the poka-dots of his pajamas. Harry smirked proudly all the same though, his brother couldn't even transfigure shapes! They both had gotten wands, since Mother and Father had grudgingly agreed when Harry begged them to let him get one too. That also made Harry proud, he'd gotten the wand that was the brother of the wizard whom his brother defeated. It seemed that destiny wanted Harry to disagree and punish his brother. His wand seemed to beg it of him. Griffith couldn't understand his wand, not like Harry did.
Harry skipped down the stairs softly, carefully counting and going over those that squeaked. His parents would kill him if he woke up Griffith. Quickly stepping over the last stair, Harry turned right into the large kitchen. It had a gold and red theme, as did almost everything in the house. Mother and Father were very proud of the house they came from in Hogwarts, Gryffindor. He thought it was a rather stupid thing, as Hogwarts was simply a school, but many seemed to think it was the center of the universe, what house you were in could judge what kind of job you get. Hufflepuffs would get chosen as judges and such commonly, because they were loyal and trustworthy. Ravenclaws would be librarians, teachers, and also sometimes working in the Ministry with Hufflepuffs. Slytherins were never trusted, but rarely actually ever caught doing anything bad, although it seemed clear to many they were up to something. No one ever could out-con or cheat a Slytherin, they were cunning, the opposite of Gryffindors, Slytherins were slightly proud but understood self-perseverance. As such, they were usually seen in the Ministry as the criminals, not the judges or victims. Lastly, there were Gryffindors, they would likely get jobs as treasure seekers, Aurors, or work in dragon reserves. Harry thought they were the most likely to get killed, they never seemed to think before they acted.
Harry was suddenly shoved a pan, flour, eggs, and all the other ingredients needed to make pies, cake, cookies, etc. He quickly set to work, any slowness could be used against him. The cake was in the oven in record time and Harry was quickly stirring the cookie batter. Then, things started to go wrong, Mother and Father had gone out because they decided to get Griffith a few extra presents to add on to the… 33? Presents they had already gotten him. Harry knew they had gotten him around three new toddler-brooms because they always ended up broken because Griffith could barely fly them. There was also a few books, galleons, a ton of candies, a few living figures, a stack of picture books, a broom repair kit (like Griffith would be the one doing the repairing), a magical fake cauldron that was safe for kids, fake ingredients for said cauldron, and a bunch of other stuff Griffith would never use.
Griffith came stomping down the stairs like a giant troll. He saw that Harry was baking the cake and scowled, "What are YOU doing, baking my cake? Hey, is that a solid chocolate cake? I told you, I wanted a wizards chocolate and sweet lemon cake!" Griffith shouted, throwing a fit.
"Mother and Father agreed that it was too expensive, anyways, you don't deserve it," Harry told him.
"Oh really? I defeat the darkest wizard in over a century when I'm fifteen months old and I don't deserve a good cake? Huh?" Griffith warned.
"No."
"Well, if I don't get the cake I want, then I don't want any cake at all!" Griffith simmered, walking over to the oven, turning the temperature up as high as possible, and turning to Harry, "And when the parents ask who did it, it's all your fault! Little Harry didn't want Griffith to enjoy his birthday, little Harry hates his brother!" He sneered.
Then Griffith runs and tackles Harry, Harry struggles, managing to punch Griffith in the eye, which would likely later become a black eye. Suddenly, a crack could be heard from the fireplace. Harry wriggled out from underneath Griffith, standing up to see his Mother and Father looking confused. Griffith groaned, he wasn't hurt badly, why wasn't he getting back up? Oh no, Harry looked at his parents, fear in his eyes, Griffith was going to tell some sob story about how Harry burnt his cake on purpose then attacked him. Father runs over to Griffith and picks him up, cradling him in both arms, then he glares at Harry.
"Harry! What have you done! Go to your room and think exactly about what you've done, Lily and I will sort out your punishment and your poor brother!" Father shouted, then he harshly kicked Harry in the knee, not as hard as Griffith had, but it was the thought that mattered.
Harry dashed off and up the stairs, ignoring the pain in his ankle and the blood matting his hair as he ran into his room and locked the door. Then he allowed himself to weep for five seconds. Only five seconds, because any longer would be pointless, and it would prove him weak. He decided to make a very important decision, he was leaving. Then he grabbed his trunk, his ragged, rusty, torn, hand-me-down trunk. The magic in it was strong though, and that was all that mattered. Harry stuffed everything he had in it, including some things that didn't, that he had stolen from the Potter library, or found in his brother's trash can. Even so, it only barely filled one of the almost infinite compartments the trunk had. That included a broomstick Harry had managed to steal from his brother. Once shut, the trunk weighed little more than a pound, nothing Harry couldn't manage, with all the work his parents and brother had him do. Then Harry sneaked over to the huge window right by his bed in the attic. Pushing it open, it left plenty of room for Harry to fly his broomstick and trunk out of the house. Harry set the trunk about five centimeters away from the back of the broomstick, then pushed the button that made it clamp down on that spot. Then Harry carefully lifted off the ground, inching out the window before closing it.
The fresh air of the beginning of fall blew in Harry's face, with a shiver, Harry pulled on his blanket and put a few simple temporary sticking charms on it so that it wouldn't blow off. Not that that was likely, the broom maxed out at fifteen miles per hour and the wind was not gusting too hard. Harry turned to face his home for one last time, then turned the opposite direction and pushed the broom to its limits, wanting to get as far away as he could as fast as possible. Eventually Harry turned right slightly so that the wind was directly at his back, making the air blowing in his face a little more bearable. It was the time of year between summer and fall, where the leaves had just started to fall, and the ground was green with specks of golden. Harry held his wand, it was acting almost excited, and wanted him to change direction, a direction that would make him face the wind at a side angle. 'Tomorrow, after I'm far away from Mother and Father, I will go that way.' he thought, trying to tell his wand. Whether it heard him or not, it did not stop begging him to turn.
After a while, Harry saw the sun was setting, had it really been so long? A whole day had passed! It was likely that Mother and Father knew of his disappearance by now. Harry was pretty sure they couldn't locate him, not with magic anyway, as he had taken everything he ever considered a belonging with him. To anyone who didn't know, the attic of the Potter household was nothing but a neglected room, with a rotting sheetless bed in it. Deciding to rest, Harry spotted an alley between two muggle places, one Harry believed to be a restaurant. He leaned back on his broom, slowing it down and causing it to lower. No muggles were nearby so he wasn't too worried about being spotted. There was also a trash can, which Harry could bet had bunches of leftover food in. He ripped open the lid and grabbed a small roll of bread.
"Scourgify Esca" He whispered, holding his wand and using the food-freshening/cleaning charm.
He also cast a warming charm on himself and the roll. Then he carefully wedged himself between two dumpsters so he would be well hidden. Bringing the roll up to his mouth, he enjoyed the warm, chewy taste of it. Then he lay behind his trunk, curled up into a blanket. Being on his own wasn't that bad after all.
He was woken up by the sound of a car horn right by where he was sleeping. He grabbed his broom, blanket, and trunk and stood up. The sun was shining red on the horizon and dozens of muggles were starting to bustle about doing whatever they do. Harry reached up and put his hand through his hair in an attempt to fix his slight bedhead. He was in his pajamas, as he wasn't good enough to cast permanent transfigurations. Shoving his broomstick in his trunk and appreciating the light weight of it, he lifted it up and started to walk out of the alley. Immediately, muggles were staring at him with weird looks on their faces, some were worried, curious, and confused. Harry shrugged, it wasn't his problem. Then an especially odd looking muggle walked up to him, he had a sort-of suit on with an undershirt with toothbrushes (?) on it. He guided Harry out of the way of the majority of the muggles paths, then kneeled on one leg so he and Harry were eye-to-eye.
"I noticed that you were walking all alone, are you lost?" The man asked, "I'm Alexander Granger, I have a daughter just about your age, what's your name?" Mr. Granger asked kindly.
"I'm Harry, I'm not lost, but I don't know where I am," Harry told him, the man seemed trustable enough.
"Oh is that right? Well, Harry, where are your parents?" Mr. Granger asked.
"They're dead," Harry answered, silently adding a "to me" at the end.
Sympathy passed across Mr. Granger's face, "Harry, I think you should come with me, I can take you to some people who will take care of you," he told Harry.
"Where? Who?" Harry asked, it seemed like a wonderful prospect, going to this
place and getting new parents since his old ones didn't care. Sometimes muggle logic was in fact logical.
"An orphanage! I'm sure they'll love you! You do seem like an intelligent young man after all," Mr. Granger smiled warmly at Harry, "I can take your trunk for you if you like." Harry handed him his trunk, Mr. Granger was surprised at how light it was, poor boy probably didn't have very many possessions, who knows how long he'd been without parents.
While Mr. Granger was fretting about how Harry had survived, Harry was quite enjoying himself. Oh sure his wand had wanted him to go somewhere, but he wouldn't choose his wand over a family, a real family. He skipped along and repeatedly crashed into people. Some were annoyed, some were startled, and some just ignored him entirely. Not that it was his problem, he doubted they even had the power to do anything, magical or otherwise. Instead, he worried about how he'd get his magical education. Oh sure he'd likely get invited to Hogwarts, but Harry didn't want to be bored until then. All he had were a few books, well a lot of books, but how much could one really learn from books?
It turned out they weren't far from the orphanage as they got there in no time at all. Well at least that's what it felt like to Harry. The orphanage was a surprisingly different building from the rest although it seemed nice enough. It had spruce colored doors made out of some sort of metal or stone with big glass windows on them. The orphanage itself was absolutely covered in windows. It had a decent sized yard and a few cheery looking kids playing outside. The green was a stark contrast to the other buildings around it. held Harry's hand as he walked up to the doors of the orphanage. Harry pushed the door open and looked at the bright red carpets and golden lights. Harry was a tad disgusted by the colors as they reminded him of the Potter home, but all the same, they did have a welcoming feel. About twenty feet from the entrance stood a tanish-marble desk with a tall woman who looked to be just under six feet tall.
"Ah! Welcome, how can I help you?" she asked warmly.
"Well I found young Harry here and he seemed like he was lost, I told him I thought this would make a fine home for him," Mr. Granger avoided saying anything about Harry's parents, but Harry noticed the look he gave the woman.
Her eyes flashed with sympathy, "Oh, I see, do you have any papers? Birth certificates?" Mr. Granger shook his head, "Well, then you can get going and I'll take care of, Harry was it? I'm Mrs. Caren, but you can call me Leah," She took Harry's hand and thanked her and left.
"Um, Mrs. C- I mean Leah, do you think I could get a different name?" Harry asked, then came up with a reason, untrue of course, as the real reason was for no one to be able to find him, "I-it reminds me of Father… his name was Harold," he then added a gulp.
"Oh sure we can, I lost my parents too, when I was 15, it's the reason I started this orphanage, to help kids like myself. So, what do you want to be called?" She asked, she seemed hesitant, but thought she understood.
"How about Praet, short for Praeteritis?" Harry asked, she showed a flicker of surprise, but didn't seem to know what the word meant.
"Unique name, you can choose to keep your last name, or wait to get the last name of whoever adopts you," Mrs. Caren informed him.
"I'll just wait until I'm adopted," Harry told her. Inside, he knew he would never think of himself as Praet, probably due to magic. He had just noticed his trunk where Mr. Granger had left it.
"Okay, well then Praet, you can either go outside and meet the other boys, or you can go to your new home, room 13, go up the stairs to my right, you have a roommate who I think is your age, his name is Aidan, turning six soon, how old are you?" She informed him.
Then Harry was reminded it was his birthday, "five actually, today is my birthday," he responded.
"Happy Birthday Praet! Now I must be going, don't know what those girls and boys outside have been getting up to," Mrs. Caren joked.
Harry was left standing by himself, hoisting his trunk up into the air, he walked towards the stairway, he knew that he was going to be pushed into muggle education when summer ended, which was only a month away. There weren't too many stairs, so Harry was up them rather quickly, he then entered a hallway, it had doors on either side, counting up from left to right. He looked at the numbers on the left as he walked, one, three, five, seven, nine, eleven, and thirteen. The door was unlocked, so he stepped in, there were three beds along the left side of the room with a dresser to each ones right. There was a single window at the far end, and the bed nearest to it was obviously taken. Harry set his trunk on the bed nearest to the door, leaving the middle bed open for whoever might end up there as well. Then he unlocked his trunk in the sequence that had all his stuff in it, and pulled out a book on wards. He wished he could do spells, but although he had a wand he wasn't old enough to cast the wards he found to hide magic usage..
After reading the instructions five times and staring at the picture for about a minute, Praet switched the book out for a more picture-filled book about magical creatures. Praet had read the book from cover to back at least five times, but he enjoyed it more each time, observing the moving pictures for the animal's behavior, reading every bit of information in the few words. His favorite animal was the basilisk, with deadly eyes and venom acidic enough to destroy almost any substance, magical or not. There was also the scale factor, a full grown basilisk could be over fifteen meters long, and its scales as hard as enchanted steel. After admiring the Basilisk as it lounged in a sunny part of the swamp it was in, Harry grudgingly put down the book and read about potions and herbology. They, along with the history of magic, were books that showed how to do things that required less practice and more memorization.
Suddenly the door slammed open and a light-brown haired boy with dark brown eyes burst in, laughing loudly. He stomped over to his bed, and only after being collapsed on it for at least a minute he turned and saw Harry, "Who're you?" he asked, eyes wide.
"I'm H-Praeteritis, you can call me Praet though, what's you're name?" Harry told him, ignoring the rather rude way Aidan, as Harry assumed the boy was, asked him.
"I'm Aidan! And I'm going into school soon!" Aidan exclaimed proudly, saying school scewel.
Harry inwardly sighed, he had really been hoping he wasn't mature for his age and that Griffith was just really immature, apparently not, "Interesting," Harry responded, then went back to reading about mandrakes. Luckily there was a charm that made it look like a muggle book to a muggle.
"You're a meany aren't you?" Aidan asked questioningly as Harry acted like he was ignoring him.
"Mhm," Harry responded without really paying attention.
"Hmph. Well I am going to go have fun with my friends," Aidan grumbled, "bet you don't have any."
Then he stomped out of the room without any more to say, the door slamming shut behind him. Harry shrugged and resumed reading, what an interesting plant, it would be dreadful if normal babies could knock people out by crying. To think that a plant could grow up to be able to kill someone just with its voice. Harry wished he could do that. Although wizards could kill with a well aimed spell, spells traveled slowly enough that they could be dodged. Harry wished he knew more about the killing curse, there would be so many times it would help him.
Harry went back to reading until Aidan came in telling him it was time for dinner, Harry bet he was forced to. After Aidan left with a loud bang of the door (That boy sure loved slamming doors) Harry reluctantly put his book back in his trunk and stepped out of the door. Then he realized he had absolutely no idea how to get to the dining hall, that could cause a… small problem. Opening the door, he set off down the hall and stairs to the lobby. Luckily, Mrs. Caren was there and he quickly found the dining hall. Dinner was surprisingly uneventful, other than a few boys teasing Harry, which he didn't really mind. Then Harry went to bed and fell asleep thinking about the new muggle clothes Mrs. Caren had promised to get him.
AN: Dang, gotta love that horizontal line though! I love it anyways. I have absolutely no idea what Hermione's dad's first name is so don't judge! I'm going to do a few chapters intro, also, I've only read five of the books in the Harry Potter series at this point so I may make a few mistakes, which I may or may not go back and correct after finishing the series. Please follow, favorite, and comment for more content! For now all I will demand for posting the next chapter is one review which I can probably make one of my friends do, but in the future… *cackles evilly*. Also, I hope that review can give me some ideas for a good title for the story, or just tell me the title I have is good.
See all you blubber-ducks later!
Peace! -Ariana Flynn Riddle/Lestrange (Should I be a Riddle or Lestrange? I may or may not add an OC of myself in the story, whom will have to be a Lestrange, and then I thought maybe I should be a Lestrange. :)
