A black haired, wiry boy laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had just awoken, his eyes opening gently as he felt the warmth of the sun peeking through his window. He carefully reached over to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand, where they had been carefully placed the night before. He sat up while putting them on, giving him the clarity he needed to see his room.

It was a fairly empty room, yet somehow it was still a mess. Against the wall was a small bookcase, with well-worn books haphazardly shoved in to make them fit. It wasn't a very large collection of books, just what his family could afford for him but he still loved them. They were on a variety of subjects, from robotics to film and even some on more advanced mathematics, at least advanced for a ten year old.

He'd been intending to straighten it up for quite some time, but every time he pulled the books off the shelf with the intent to straighten it up, he couldn't help but rereading particular sections. He had left piles of dirty laundry that should have been taken out at least a few days ago amongst the piles of books his small shelf simply could not hold. The floor that was showing appeared clean, but the science books he read had ruined that illusion for him. He thought of all the dust and dirt on the floor that he couldn't see, and he immediately tried to find something to distract himself with.

The desk, which was situated near the corner by the door, held a number of notebooks, which had piled up over the years of recording observations. A few papers laid scattered on the part of the desk not filled with notebooks. He recalled a certain experiment he'd been conducting o the favorite foods of some local caterpillars. He knew it didn't qualify as something overly scientific, but it was something to test the scientific method on, even if some steps had to be removed.

The wall on his right had various charts posted, all of which depicted the stars from his observations out the window at night. On the opposite wall on his closet doors hung a number of posters full of useful information for aspiring scientists. From the periodic table of elements to the makeup of atoms themselves, the posters gave him quite a bit of knowledge at his fingertips, or rather, on the wall. He smiled as his fell on them, remembering all the hours spent poring over them, trying to memorize the contents.

He sighed, shaking his head at the mess. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and got up. He made a quick laundry run as he headed for the door, picking up what he could. He walked quickly down the stairs, considering for a moment the idea of jumping down the last few steps. While it was perhaps childish, he was still a child and decided to make the jump. He landed with a satisfying thump and deposited his laundry in the laundry basket and made his way back up to his room.

In his haste to collect the rest of his laundry from his room, he accidentally tripped on an unseen book just inside his door. He cursed himself for avoiding it on his way out yet tripping on it on the way in. It was then that he realized that perhaps he should have hit the ground already. He knew that in situations of duress, one would feel like the world was moving in slow motion. It was the first time he had experienced it, but it took him but a second to realize that he was actually falling much slower than he should be. It was quite a strange feeling.

Upon his gentle landing, he laid there for a moment, pondering what had just happened. Could it have been a dream? No, every time he fell in a dream, he ended up falling much farther than he thought possible, like the motion was exaggerated somehow. He got up, still staring at the floor where he had fallen. Would it happen again? He walked out and walked back in, taking extra care to trip on the book. Unfortunately, the fall didn't repeat in such a slow fashion and he found himself rubbing his hand that he had used to break his fall.

It was a curious thing, but it wasn't the first experience he'd had with this sort of thing. He remembered once while he was getting chased by bullies, he suddenly found himself on a roof, out of their reach. Still in a state of shock mixed with disbelief, he walked over to his desk. He looked at the various colour-coded notebooks. There were at least a few in each colour, but he ignored them and instead reached behind the notebooks and pulled out a solitary, dark blue notebook.

He opened it up to the marked page about a quarter of the way in and started reading the entry before it, noting the gap between it and the event that had just occurred. It had been just over two weeks since the last of the strange occurrences. He couldn't help but flip through the entries before that. The longer he looked at the dates the more he felt there was something about them. Some quick mental math confirmed that the events had been getting more and more frequent. He flipped back to the marked page and began writing.

"July 17, 1991:

Today the most odd of occurrences happened. I was walking into my room and in my haste I tripped over a book hidden from my view. Instead of falling at a normal speed and hitting the ground in less than a second, I fell at a slowed pace. It took many seconds for me to land gently on the ground.

I thought it could possibly be related to the spot I fell and I attempted to fall at the slowed pace by tripping over the book again, but it was unsuccessful. I fell at a normal pace, resulting in minor injury. The most likely explanation is a temporary gravitational anomaly. However, this is quite improbable and I can offer no explanation for it."

He closed the notebook and stashed it away behind the others. He got back up and put away the book he'd tripped over. He paused for a moment, looking at the book. It was ordinary, just like the dozens of other books in his room, yet it had made his day rather unusual. He shook his head to clear his mind and focus more on the task at hand, the state of his room. It had to be cleaned. A dirty workspace was not a good workspace.

About an hour later he was standing in his doorway, admiring his work. It kind of bothered him that the surfaces in his room could perhaps be less cluttered, but at least now he wouldn't be tripping on anything for a few days. He shut the door behind him as he went back downstairs to get some breakfast for himself. He found his aunt and uncle, his adoptive parents, sitting at the table, staring at a lone letter sitting on the table before them.

As he sat down, they looked up at him, somewhat surprised at his appearance at the table. No one said anything for quite a few moments, as if the letter carried great importance to the family. He went over and got himself some toast and eggs from the counter. He ate in silence, staring at his uncle, who seemed to be staring back at him the entire time. Just before he got up, his uncle, who was called Vernon, finally spoke.

"Harry, this letter," he said, holding it up, "I've never quite liked the idea of you getting it, but Petunia, she… she…"

"I insisted that you had the right to know. I don't like it just as much as your uncle, but we knew this day would come, ever since we found you on our doorstep."

With that Vernon handed him his letter quite slowly, as if he still wasn't entirely sure he should be reading it. Harry was quite taken aback. They had mentioned how they had come to be his guardians only once, but they'd never mentioned a letter or anything. He found himself both terrified by the prospect of this development, and insatiably curious about it.

He looked at the front. In an emerald-green ink was his name. Now that he'd had a moment to process it all, the letter was heavy and made of a yellowish parchment. He took a moment to read the front, just to make sure it was indeed for him.

"Mr. H Potter
Upstairs Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whining
Surrey"

He told himself that he was being ridiculous, trembling at a plain letter. He turned it over and took a moment to examine the wax seal on it. The seal depicted a coat of arms of sorts; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large H. He paused to think about it. He had seen many coats of arms in encyclopedias, but this one did not look familiar at all. He finally opened the letter and unfolded it. It read,

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)"

Harry had to stop reading to fully comprehend what he had just read. He reread it three more times, just to make sure what he was reading was right. A school for witchcraft and wizardry? Wasn't magic just something from fairy tales? No, this was simply not possible. Or was it? He thought of the dark blue notebook hidden in his room. Perhaps there was an explanation for the events accounted for in them. He continued reading.

"Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Given your muggle-raised status, we shall send someone to explain.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment, which shall be explained. Term begins on September 1, expect the visitor before July 31. He or she shall send word of your decision to us."

He had to set the letter down. It went against his entire upbringing. Was it some sort of elaborate prank pulled by Petunia and Vernon? He glanced up at them, but Petunia was biting her lip, unsure of whether or not it had been a good idea. Vernon was wearing a look of apprehension, perhaps with a hint of anger. He stared at them, looking for some tip off that it was just a joke. When there was none, he picked up his letter and finished reading.

"Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress"

Between the lines was the looping and elegant signature of McGonagall. He didn't know exactly what to do. He folded the letter and put it away, his mind reeling from this recent development. Eventually Vernon spoke up and after the silence, it took Harry by surprise.

"Err- Harry, about this letter..."

His voice trailed off, but suddenly he became furious as his face grew red. He resumed speaking, this time in a low and hoarse whisper.

"I tried to stomp it out of you. I gave you science and math. I wanted you to never know about your mother's kind. Those books were a distraction!"

Harry was taken aback by his sudden aggression. How long had he been carrying this around? Vernon cut through Harry's thoughts as he resumed his menacing speech.

"For 11 years I took care of you when no one else would. This magic nonsense is a joke! I will not have you learn it! Go back to your science and math boy! Forget you saw this letter!"

By this point Vernon was almost yelling, which caused Harry's adopted brother, Dudley, to storm downstairs.

"Daddy why are yelling? Did Harry do something bad?"

Harry looked over at him and noticed that Dudley was ever so slightly happy at the thought if Harry in trouble. It used to bother him as a younger child but now he realized how idiotic it was. Petunia cut in, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Duddy-kins, why don't you come down for breakfast while Mommy, Daddy, and Harry talk?"

All it had taken was the mention of food for Dudley to become sufficiently motivated to charge down the stairs. He was a pudgy boy who ate quite a food and as Harry knew from both his appearance and his health book that what he ate was too much. As Harry pondered how exactly Dudley ate so much, Vernon spoke out.

"Petunia darling, I think we'd better go talk in the other room... Alone."

It was quite clear that Vernon wasn't going to have a particularly pleasant talk with Petunia. Even as they left, harry heard the beginnings of a whispered argument.

"Mum and Dad aren't fighting are they?"

Harry sometimes felt bad for Dudley. It wasn't that he was perhaps slower than a boy his age should be, but rather he knew that he could be smart. In fact, harry had a number of notebooks dedicated to Dudley. Harry always tried to help Dudley with his homework as a kind gesture between brothers. From the many sessions he knew that with the proper guidance, Dudley was bright, though he was a slow learner. After thinking about the best way to handle the situation tactfully, Harry answered him.

"Don't worry Dudley, it's just about my school."

It wasn't a lie nor was it the full truth. He didn't think Dudley would handle it too well if he straight up told him he was a wizard. He wanted to get Dudley away from his parents before he figured out what exactly was going on. Vernon made a sudden entrance with a smile on his face. Whatever argument they had in the other room, it was clear that he had won. He picked up Harry's letter and threw it away.

Harry got up to leave the table as Vernon sat down to resume his breakfast. He didn't want a confrontation right now, he had a lot to think about. So it was that he washed his dishes and retreated back to his room. He flopped onto his bed with the dark blue notebook and began flipping through the pages. He wanted some answers, no matter how far fetched they seemed. All he had to was wait less than 2 weeks and then he'd know. He couldn't help but smile, this was going to be interesting...

A/N: This is just a side project of mine, though expect frequent updates. (Once a week+)