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Warning: The following contains scenes of graphic nature and should not be viewed by young or impressionable readers. Read at your own risk.
Authors note: Greetings to those reading. Redlight47 here tell you briefly that I thank you for reading this story that I'm honestly surprised isn't done too often in the HP archives. I mean, having harry being taught by a guy so magically powerful he could just will things to motion seems like a give-me. Regardless, I'm grateful for you all to come here take the time to read this. If it's well received, I'll update as quickly as I possibly can. Enjoy!
~-~-Beginning of Prologue-~-~
I learned at a young age that all men aren't created equal. Everyone has something working either with or against them. Some sort of perk that gives them an advantage or disadvantage. And it could be anything, from being born into the 1% and having a special talent or connections, or having been raised in the slums and being forced into things even the most hardened of men would flinch at. However you want to put it, some had it good from the get go, and some just got the short end of the stick and have to cope with it until an opportunity comes.
In this case, I'd easily fall in the latter.
When my mum and dad came to me and told me that I'd be having a little brother, I was so excited at the time. Just think, a little brother of my own who I could show some of the things I've learned in my short life. As weird as it sounds, I've read plenty of books, both magical and muggle, and took a lot out of them. I knew a few parlor tricks that could impress the kids on the playground. And before anyone says, no, muggle books are not useless. In fact, with some of the things you could do in the mundane world, it was hard at times to differentiate magic from science as both gave astonishing results. I don't know why most magi think themselves superior when you have people who can go to the surface of the moon in a few hours.
Any who, months rolled by and my mum's stomach grew disproportionately until the water finally broke and we rushed to the hospital so he could say hello to the world finally. And I was so excited because it was on my birthday, 31st of July. My dad was worried, though; he paced back and forth as if he was expecting something to go wrong. My adolescent youth didn't comprehend he was worried about the risks of having a second child like miscarriages. But it was all well in the end as he was born and with him was the name Andrew given. He had a lot my mum's features, hair included, but my dad's hazel eyes. This would be when things get all happy and we roll the credits as the hard part is over.
But you can never expect a somber story like that with a happy ending.
Three months later, we were attacked by some Dark Lord everyone was afraid to talk about, but I heard some of his cronies calling him something along the lines of "Lord Moldy-Butt" or something else with that level of pretentiousness. Apparently he was here for me and Andrew, which was a big no-no. Dad was busy fending off the scrubs like a hero and mum, as frantic as she was strong, told me to get my baby brother and get as far away as possible. And I did so quickly and without question. I raced up to his room when no one looked and grabbed Andrew, making sure not to wake him from his nap and announce our presence.
Sneaking back down stairs, I saw Moldy-Butt, or his silhouette, for the first time. His pawns were scattered throughout the house unconscious and I couldn't help but be proud at my dad. Still both he and mum where on their knees and reeling at this bugger; I guess he was just that powerful. Luckily I was able to sneak out with a short apparition out the back door and into the woods. I hated what that monster must've done to them, but I still had a job to do, for mum's sake.
I pushed myself deeper through the forest, not knowing or caring where I went but rather if I was away from them. I thought I made good progress until unimaginable pain wreaked havoc through all of my being and was on my knees. I was still clutching Andrew tightly, but I must've held too tightly at that point because he was wailing on my shoulders. A moment later, more black pawns, most likely new ones, surrounded my brother and I like my shadows coming to life, and the big man himself took the typical evil route of appearing face-to-face to me.
This was when I really got to see his face and it was something more astonishing than horrifying. It was like looking at the deformed bastard child of a gorgon a wendigo. I would have felt bad for him had it not been for the pain I felt that moment. The only comprehensible thought in my then burning head was 'NO NOSE!' while looking at him, but whatever. He pulled out his wand with the intent to kill, but before he casted his curse, he said this to me.
"Shame, the two of you could have been powerful wizards under my rule. But I leave nothing to chance." He spoke honestly, posh tone aside, as he pointed the wand at us and casted the killing curse.
I don't know what happened after that, nobody really does. All I remember was the pain from the crucio curse coursing through me as violent green light shot from his wand. And then I felt so anxious and angry that all I saw was red for half a second and I felt something very hot stirring inside me that wasn't the unforgivable curse. And that's when I blacked out, feeling too cold and tried to do anything. I didn't want to wake up because I was afraid Moldy-Butt was who I'd see again. But then I heard the voice of my mother and I woke up at the hospital, my head pounding like someone thought it was concrete needing to be broken with a jackhammer.
It was here where I was told that Andrew was the Boy-Who-Lived, or some nonsense, and he would be a hero to Magic Britain because Moldy-Butt failed to kill him with his curse. At first I thought it was odd because I was sure he pointed his wand at me; then again, all I remembered at that point was seeing red and everything burning, so I was in no position to argue. In fact, I was proud of my brother for surviving and being the prophesized hero. This was before I realized just how big a shadow my infant brother casted despite being so small.
Yes, with his title as a hero, I was all but forgotten both inside and outside of the Potter house. Everywhere we went, people always wanted to take a look at the baby-boy-who-lived just to tell their friends that they were close to him once. My parents coddled him like no tomorrow, calling him "their pride-and-joy". My father even stopped teaching me spells just to spend more time with him. Don't get me wrong, I didn't hate Andrew for his fame because he's just a baby. He couldn't control it and He didn't have the power to stop the people around him. But I did start to resent everyone else for forgetting me, even my parents. I especially hated the kids who'd try to be friends with me because I'm his brother. You might as well wear a bright gold sash with the words 'BLOODY LIER' in bold red colors.
This went on for a few years by that time, my brother had been completely spoiled rotten with the all the praise and gifts received by the people on our birthdays and Christmas. My father had stopped teaching me spells while my mom was busy planning for big events, all for Andrew. Any new spells I learned would be on my own when I read books from the archives. All the kids flocked to the famous hero and trying to be friends, and I use that term more loosely than a working girls oath of fertility. Meanwhile, I slowly turned into little more than a specter for people to debate if I'm actually real or a figment of one's own imagination. Any new spells I learned were of my own doing and the only thing of value I remember getting were more books on spells and creatures by famous wizards. My uncle, Sirius Black, even gave me some books on muggle science by people like Reed Richards and Tony Stark. He admitted that it was a bit odd for me to be reading these books, but I never cared. It's not like I'd get noticed for it anyway.
Things were like this until I was around seven and he was three when Dumbledore suddenly showed up at our door. I was surprised someone as important as him would show up this suddenly, but then my surprise died when I realized that he was here for Andrew. I was right, of course, as it turns out that He had convinced my folks to let go of me permanently to raise my baby brother as the hero he was prophesized to be and send me off to aunt Petunia Dursley, a muggle, who I've never even heard of till then. They seemed a bit too okay with this too, like they always had the idea in the back of their minds. But you know what, I didn't even care because at that point I felt so detached from my family, I felt adopted.
And then I actually moved in with the woman. My dad was still perfectly alright, but my mom seemed on the verge of tears the closer we got and I understood why. It turns out my sweet aunt Petunia was actually salty at the fact she wasn't magic. Her husband, Vernon, was an astonishingly overweight man who viewed the magic world, along with anything not "normal" as freakish and needing to be put down. And if I thought my brother was spoiled rotten, my cousin was practically a decaying tooth with cavities big enough to house rats. So what we have is a spiteful giraffe married to a racist walrus that played in the sheets one day and birthed a gluttonous pig. This is the people I'd be living with, mind you.
Well, I wouldn't say "lived with" to accurately describe my time with the Dursleys. "Tortured by" seems more appropriate, "brutally beaten by" maybe, or how about "coping with the Dursleys" in the same way one copes with being diagnosed with terminal cancer. It seemed like each day I was with them I got a new scar and lost a few grams, or pounds in the case of Americans. I was worked to death like an indentured servant, beaten by Vernon's chunky fists almost randomly, brawled with Dudley's gang of idiot followers, and even nearly drowned while in the bath tub by Petunia. I would have gone to the police, but the walrus and giraffe demonized me to the point of being absolutely despised by the neighbors, who would be questioned by authorities. So not support on that end.
But then I remembered the story of Tony Stark when he was captured by terrorists and I vowed to follow in his footsteps. No, I couldn't build a set of scrap armor like him, not discreetly at least. But what I could do is plan and wait for an opportunity to present itself where I can leave this all behind. This is what made me so strong that I wouldn't break no matter how much they beat me. And with this mentality I was able to do things that normally leave me black and blue thanks to the clenched sausages that were Vernon's fingers. I snuck portions of food I was forced to make for the glutens so I wouldn't starve, I made friends with the bigger kids to help me fend off Dudley's crew in return for letting them cheat off me during tests and quizzes and help with homework, I spent time with teachers and did work for neighbors to break the face painted by the giraffe woman's words. My goal was to survive long enough to get more people on my side for when I do reach authorities. And everything went well until then this happened.
One day, the bigger kids roughed up Dudley to where he was visibly wounded. Of course, the Dursleys had assumed I did it despite the fact that the real culprits admitted it was their doing. No one was suspended because the school has given prior warnings about Dudley's behavior. This didn't stop them from going to town on me again, only this time they seemed more intent to kill than before. Vernon got a skillet from the kitchen, and was encouraged by Petunia and Dudley to "Put down the freak" as they said. And that he did, wailing on me harder and harder while I was on the ground in the fettle position. And this is when it happened again.
It was the same burning sensation from that night long ago when the dark lord tried to kill me. I was starting to see red like before as my senses enveloped in pain. Everything blurred together as this searing heat burst from my body and then… I just felt… fine. It was like I wasn't being beaten by a walrus seconds ago. I still felt tired like before, but I refused to fall unconscious so they could kill me in my sleep. When I opened my eyes, I found Vernon sprawled on the floor bleeding, Dudley was paralyzed and gapping like an idiot, and Petunia looked like she had just seen the devil incarnate. Which, in her mind, she probably did. That's when my body finally gave out and I fell unconscious.
But this time, things would be different because when I opened my eyes… I'd meet him.
~-~-End of Prologue-~-~
