A long as Harry could remember, he was taught to check around corners, to never leave the house alone, to scrutinize rooms for traps, and to always be wary of the dark. As a child, Harry was never allowed to go outside and play with the other children; he was rarely allowed to leave the house at all. If he did go outside, it was always under the supervision of someone, but Harry didn't mind; he had never known it any other way.
As he grew older though, he began to notice the way the other children were acting. They never checked around corners. They were allowed to leave the house alone. It all seemed so strange to Harry. Why were the other kids being so careless? Soon he began to wonder why he was raised so differently; why he was the only one who had to scrutinize the room for traps and be wary of the dark. He never asked his godfather though. To his godfather, these rules were absolute. Harry could only come up with one explanation, and it was something that had perplexed him for years.
Harry could only vaguely recall events that occurred when he was a toddles, but this particular event was nearly impossible to forget. When Harry was three or four he had gone to market with his godfather to stock up on food. Harry had been exuberant since he rarely got the opportunity to go out, and even more rarely was he able to go out without his invisibility cloak handy.
Harry could not recollect why he had wandered away from his godfather that day. Perhaps it was because his godfather's attention had been focused elsewhere, or maybe his natural curiosity had simply gotten the better of him, all he could remember was that he had snuck away from his godfather in Diagon Alley, and straight into Nocturne Alley.
The next thing he knew was that he was surrounded, surrounded by bad people. He wasn't exactly sure how he knew they were bad, but he didn't have a doubt in his mind that they were. They kept their faces hidden in shadow, while their bodies were obscured by enormous black cloaks. Harry could hardly even distinguish their genders.
One of them moved towards him. Harry backed away a few steps. He wanted to run, but he had backed right into a wall. The person who had stepped forward knelt down in front of Harry, to make eye contact.
"Come with us, Harry," he whispered sweetly. From his voice, it was now clear that he was a man. "I have a son about your age, and we'll have loads of fun." Harry did not like this man's emphasis on the word "fun." In fact, Harry did not like this man at all, nor any if these people. He wanted his godfather. The man reached out to grab him. No! Harry didn't want to go with this man! He wished he had never come to this place.
Just as the man seized Harry, there was a cry of "Stupefy!" Harry knew that voice; it was his godfather! One of the people fell to the ground. The man let go of Harry and ran. Most of the people scattered. One or two stayed behind but were easily overpowered by his godfather. Harry fell to his knees, frightened and shaking. His godfather knelt down beside him.
"Harry," he said softly, "Are you all right?" Harry managed a small nod. His godfather hugged him, and that was as much as he could remember.
Harry hadn't known at the time, but looking back, he realized that those people were attempting to kidnap him. Maybe that was why he had to be so cautious, so that he wouldn't be kidnapped. But, weren't the other kids just as likely to be kidnapped. Perhaps, for some reason, he was in much more danger of being kidnapped than the other children. This seemed to go deeper than that one isolated incident, far deeper.
There were other things Harry had yet to understand. Aside from the constant vigilance that his godfather urged, Harry had to wonder about his godfather himself. When he was small, Harry had never wondered why his godfather was taking care of him. His godfather just was. It wasn't until he grew older that he realized that most children had a mother and a father. Harry began to wonder, was his godfather, in fact, his father, and if so, where was his mother? This was something Harry could not bare to keep inside. When he asked his godfather, he responded simply, "No, Harry, I'm not your father." Harry was not satisfied with this answer alone. He asked him to elaborate, and his godfather continued on to say, "I was your dad's best mate, and when you were born, he and your mum named me your godfather. That means that if anything were to happen to them, I would take care of you. And something did happen to them Harry, something really bad. Your parents…died." Harry wasn't sure what it meant to die at the time. He could still remember the sympathetic, melancholy look in his godfather's eyes as well as the soft, sad tone he spoke in.
"Harry, that means that your parents have gone somewhere, and they can't come back. They can't talk to you or contact you, but, trust me, Harry, if they could, they would love to see you." Harry asked how his parents had died, but his godfather didn't respond. Finally he said, "I'll tell you when you're older." Harry detested that response but knew that it mean end of conversation. To this day, Harry was still unsure about how his parents were taken from him.
There was one other thing that puzzled Harry, and it rested dead center on his forehead. Harry had a strange scar hidden under his jet black bangs. It was shaped like a bolt of lightning and was so old that he could never recall how he got it. Whenever he tried, all he could remember was a flash of strange green light, but he could never make anything of it.
This was something he frequently asked his godfather about, but whenever he would ask, his godfather would always mumble, "I'll tell you when you're older." This was probably the key reason as to why he loathed that answer, but in the end, there where many questions that plagued Harry, questions that would be answered sooner than Harry thought.
