Ch.1

Privet Drive was an ordinary street, in an ordinary neighborhood, filled with ordinary people. Same house after house that was as unremarkable as the last, filled with neighbors that knew each other and everyone around them, so there were no secrets to be had in this small burg. At first glance and indeed hundreds of them afterward, this didn't seem any different than any place, in any other part of the world. Nothing strange had happened or would ever happen here. So it would be safe to assume that this place was just a normal street like any other. You would be wrong.

There lived, on number four, Privet Drive, the family of Dursley. People, who were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last any would guess were involved in anything strange or mysterious because they just didn't hold with that nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. (Page 1, Chapter 1, HP: Sorcerer's Stone.)

But they are not what is important, their dreaded secret is what is important. Something they have shamefully hidden from the world. A child locked in the small cupboard under the stairs, which had barely enough room for him and the clothes he was forced to wear, which were clearly Dudley's hand-me-downs, being that they were two sizes too big. A child of 9 years, respectfully. He was tall for his age, skinny and malnourished. His facial feature had a sharp and aristocratic look about them, jet-black hair falling almost to his shoulders, never falling from its perfect position. His face was framed by vivid green eyes, too hard and world-weary for one his age. Hidden by his hair was an bizarre thing, a lightning bolt shaped scar. Of which he didn't know the origin of, so it was ignored.

Harry James Potter was an altogether disturbing individual, cold and detached from everyone around him, be them child or adult, he strived and flourished. Even under the chore list that was his life. Playing did not matter, friends did not matter, family did not matter the only thing that mattered was him and the things he could do. The abnormal things that should not be able to be done; he was doing. He has always known he were different, special, unique. So set apart and above all around him. Superior.

With all the odd occurrences in his life he was surprised that he didn't figure it out early what he could do. Moving things just with a simple thought and as he grew being able to lift heavier and heavier things. Being able to manipulate and control the elements around him. Earth, Fire, Water, Wind; they were his to control as he saw fit. When he wasn't needed, he was training his gifts. Honing them till perfection. Soon he was discovering new things, how to blend into the shadows; become invisible to all around him. Having the ability to change the shape of things, and sometimes the material of things. Heating and cooling himself and the things around him was a relatively easy process. It was proven the more he did it the easier it was for him. It soon became almost second nature for him.

Harry now felt confident enough in his powers and his control that he planned on showing his 'family'; he sneered as he thought, that he would be giving himself a birthday present. So it was with anticipation he left his cupboard, moving the living room where he knew his dear Aunt and Uncle were sitting in front of the television. As he entered the room, they turned and peered at me, faces anger at my intrusion. "Vernon?"

My Uncle response was expected, "What is it boy?"

At his angry question I responded by waving my hand at the large television, turning it off, and sat in front of them on the table, smiling slightly. "Oh, nothing. Just want to have a little chat is all."

Face burning with anger, Vernon glared at me, as Petunia sat shaking at his side, face seeming shocked at what I had done. Coldly I told the in my smug voice, "The cupboard is getting a little cramped, ya' see. I am a growing boy, so I'll need an actual room if you could be so kind."

Rising from where he sat, Vernon almost shouted. "What is this nonsense? I will not stand for this behavior, get away you!"

Face blank, I responded. "Alright." Standing from where I sat, I coolly looked up at them, watching as the windows and doors shut themselves, locking us in together as the light flicked over and over again. As they both watched in horror at there surroundings, I asked them again. "I will be needing Dudley's extra room. Now."

Falling back onto the couch beside his wife, Vernon sputtered in anger at me, "Now see here…in my house, …"

Shaking my head at their foolishness, I thought, 'Time to step it up a notch'. And soon, everything began to lift into the air and more rapidly in a circle around the room, faster and faster as I kept asking them, "Come on, make up your mind."

Soon they were a blur as they moved all over the room and just I was about to kick it up some more, Vernon yelled. "STOP! Now, It's yours. Just…stop."

Nodding to him softly, I turned and walked from the room, all the things falling and breaking as I left, saying simply. "You have two days."

A smirk almost splitting my face, I left the house, truly content for the first time. 'I am far above those people, inferior being. That utter filth that is the rest of my family. I am above them, Harry James Potter is…' My face breaking out in a grimace I thought of my name. Harry James Potter. So common. So bland and plain. All the things I'm not.

Face thoughtful, he ponder his dilemma, 'I could fashion myself a new name. I name that will inspire fear and envy in all.' One word seemed to move threw him, ' I am Malificaus.'