PROLOGUE
Hunter Walker is an enigmatic version of Harry Potter as an older, first-year college student at Hogwarts. With a similar story line to Harry's upbringing, Hunter goes through the journey of discovering his true story.
Hunter was adopted at a young age unbeknownst to him, living a normal muggle life with a supportive family. Around his 18th birthday, he receives an invitation to a peculiarly named college; Hogwarts University, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Having a background in sorcery isn't foreign to Hunter. He possesses snake-like abilities in reaction to intensive feelings of anger. The power to control snakes and the proficiency of reptilian vision are used to his advantage, heavily compromising his morals. The heightened adverse emotion intensifies as he ages, and his arrival at Hogwarts University escalates the sentiment.
Contrary to his deceased biological parents, both highly respected Gryffindors, Hunter is controversially placed in Slytherin. The insubordinate freshman walks to the beat of his own drum. He utilizes immoral tendencies to his benefit, and is defiant toward the professors.
Draco Malfoy, his roommate, is the first student to witness Hunter's reptilian eye first hand, and is instantly enthralled by the dark magic tied to it. The two Slytherins often butt heads, as they're equally domineering and stubborn.
Despite Hunter's ultimate loyalty to Malfoy, he befriends the Weasleys in Gryffindor. Ron and his twin brothers bring humor and luminosity to Hunter's darkness. Malfoy denounces his connection to the Weasleys based off the families combative history. However, the strongest denunciation between the roommates is centered upon the girl from Gryffindor; Hermione Granger.
Enjoy the journey alongside Hunter, in the exciting and ominous rendition of The Sorcerer's Stone.
A/N: In conclusion, the ultimate reason I changed Harry's name is due to the ingrained perception of his character. Harry Potter is pure, ethical, and selfless. Hunter Walker, on the other hand, has his demons.
CHAPTER 1
It's the final lacrosse game of the year and we're tied for the win.
"This is the final stretch," Coach Nelson hollers over the crowd's cheers. Our team huddles around him. He points his finger at me. "Peterson, step it up. I need to see more plays."
"Perhaps recruiting a handicap who can't see out of both eyes was a bad move, Coach," Sean Cooper torments, his eyes dead set on me.
"Cooper," Coach Nelson snaps, immediately shutting him up. "Now let's get back out there and take this home, boys."
The ear piercing whistle echoes across the field as both teams emerge to their designated spots. I stand in the middle of the field as my sweaty hands twirl the lacrosse stick between my fingers.
I'm hot, anxious, aggravated.
Everything resides on this play.
The second whistle indicates the beginning of the last quarter. Within seconds, the rubber ball comes soaring my way. My eyes lock on the midfielder of the opposing team rushing toward me also anticipating the catch.
I inch closer, my grip tightening, holding my breath as it nears. I position my stick at the perfect angle.
I was going to sink this one without a doubt.
Suddenly, I'm aggressively shoved from behind at full speed being sent face first into the ground. My mouth and helmet fill with grass and dirt.
A third, muffled sound of a whistle rings through my ears. I yank the helmet from my head gasping for air, on the verge of choking up the amount of shit I had just digested. I hunch over clutching my stomach as a large shadow casts over me.
I turn my neck to find Sean towering over me with a sinister grin beaming through his helmet.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!" I holler throwing my helmet to the side. "I WOULD HAVE CAUGHT THAT YOU IDIOT!"
The taunting smile remains on his face as he twirls his stick against the surface. "Stop lying to yourself already. Just give up."
I temporarily black out, charging the lower half of his body taking him to the ground with me. My adrenaline gives no choice other than to rip the helmet from his fat head, repeatedly swinging my fists at him left and right.
He guards his face with his arms as I continue to wail on him.
"Peterson! Cooper! Knock it off!" Coach Nelson sprints toward us before having to quite literally tear us apart.
Two of our teammates use a hell of a lot of wasted energy holding me back.
Four years of being bullied by this prick, on and off the field, and I finally had had enough. He was twice my size but from what I had experienced, anger provided the ability to morph into someone, something else.
"LET GO OF ME!"
I successfully release myself from their grasp clenching both bloodied fists.
"Walk it off," our goalie Reid sternly advises patting me on the back.
I aggressively pace toward my abandoned helmet with my hands on my hips. I head toward the bench to re-gather myself.
It wasn't worth it.
Sean wasn't worth it.
But unfortunately, the valiant effort toward 'walking it off' doesn't coordinate well with my rival.
Sean bolts my direction from out of my peripheral. He charges me, forcefully launching the both of us off well off of the field. The un-groomed 12 inch grass surrounds us as we tumble, mutually exchanging punch after punch.
I'm quickly growing weaker.
The unanticipated attack knocks the wind out of me and I'm having trouble catching my breath. Though he was clearly winning this round, he mounts me continuing to sucker punch the hell out of me. I lay flat on my back gasping for air as a mixture of sweat and blood stream into my eyes.
"FIGHT BACK YOU PUSSY!" he yells grasping the front of my jersey pulling my back up from the ground.
"S-Stop," I try to let out. I'm on the brink of consciousness. Everything is spinning and I'm certain if I take one more blow to the head I'll knock out. My fingers dig into the dirt as he tugs my shirt again lifting me closer to him. His other hand is wound back ready to throw one last power punch.
My eyes widen as I incessantly cough and gag off a healthy dose of grass, dirt, sweat, and blood.
Sean freezes in place, his fist still cocked back.
"What the fuck," he mutters as I feel the tightening of his grip loosen. "What's wrong with your eye you freak?"
I viciously blink in an attempt to push the bodily fluids from my eyes. But I intently keep my gaze on him beginning to feel a bit of strength restored.
I didn't know it was possible for someone to get punched so hard that the ability to see color was temporarily lost, but I can only see black and white out of my left eye.
There's a sudden rustling of the grass adjacent to us further loosening Sean's grasp of my jersey. His other arm remains cocked and loaded. "What're.. what're you doing?" There's a sudden hint of fear in his tone as he exchanges glances between myself and the weeds.
My head lethargically hangs to the side, my eyes steadfast on the shaking shrubbery.
"Peterson, what are you.. what're you- AHH!"
I never thought I'd hear this bulky of a man's voice reach that high of an octave in my life. After he finally lets go of my shirt I fall back hitting my head against the ground.
I stare up at the ocean blue sky noticing that my breathing had substantially restored. Each distracted moment of his was a heavy revival. I hoist myself up to find what appears to be Sean on his ass, scooting his body away from me as fast as he can stumbling on all fours.
I rub my bum eye in an attempt to make sure that I was properly perceiving the scene in front of me. The ability to see color out of my left eye had turned from black and white to some sort of ultraviolet vision.
But either way, black and white or ultraviolet vision, I'm certain that the numerous blows to my head were causing hallucinations.
Because If I hadn't known any better, a fucking 6 foot long diamondback rattle snake had just slithered past my leg on a relentless mission toward Sean.
It was now towering over him as rigid as a board. Based off shit I'd seen in the movies, this snake was about to strike.
"Hunt- Hunter, s-stop man, please, I'm-I'm begging you."
I remain silent, eyes wide, my breath hitched in my throat.
Unexpectedly, the snake turns its upper body toward me, its tongue rapidly flickering in my direction. It's warm green and brown toned scales shimmer against the sunlight. The rare-sighted creature is simply stunning.
It's body sways back and forth into a small dance as if it were contemplating something.
Pausing.
"Hunter," Sean pleads. The 250 pound jackass was blubbering like a baby before me.
And if I was being honest, I was getting quite the kick out of it.
The gargantuan reptile keeps its line of vision directed at me and appears to nod it's head before-
Faster than the speed of light, the rattlesnake attacks Sean sinking it's fangs into his left arm. His screams can presumably be heard from across the field.
The sound of an army of people approaches from behind us.
"God dammit Peterson! Cooper! What the hell is going- OH MY GOD! Call an ambulance!" Coach Nelson shouts kneeling next to Sean.
"Get him away from me!" Sean shouts kicking his feet toward me. "Fucking freak!"
The chaos surrounding us gives the serpent the perfect opportunity to slither away unnoticed.
But it hadn't left my sight for one moment.
It camouflages amongst the lengthy grass until it is no longer in view.
"Hunter, what the hell just happened?!" Reid throws his equipment on the ground next to me. I accept my teammate's offer to help me up as I grasp onto his arm putting myself back on my feet.
I'm confused, shocked, drained.. liberated.
I direct my attention back to Reid and respond with complete sincerity.
"I.. I don't know."
I enter my parents mansion launching the beat up lacrosse stick from my hand as it slides across the wooden floor. The heavy duffel bag that hangs from my shoulder thuds to the ground shortly thereafter.
I'm greeted by my mother washing dishes in the kitchen with her back to me. Her blonde hair is kept up in a nice neat bun. The apron wrapped around her waist protects the pale blue knee length dress beneath.
"How was the game honey?"
"Fine," I blatantly lie wiping the inside of my blood, sweat, and grass stained jersey across my face. My mother was never too interested in my sport, and there was no need to fire up her interest today.
My cleats clunk against the stairs as I adamantly ascend to my destination. I'm exhausted and my vision still hadn't returned back to normal. I clench my injured and contaminated left eye shut.
"Hunter? You forgot your mail," mom calls after me as I stop in place. I turn on my heels listlessly headed back to the kitchen. She turns to me holding a magazine and a few envelopes. I reach to grab it from her but she quickly retracts her arm.
"Oh, Honey!" Her eyes search my bruised and bloodied face with concern. "What happened?" she asks brushing my hair to the side.
"Rough game." I swipe the mail from her as a petite envelope that was stuck to my magazine leafs to the floor.
"Is everything okay?" She cups my chin as her other hand wipes the dirt from my cheeks with a wet cloth. My lack of response continues her nervous banter. "You know, I wish your father hadn't scheduled this cruise during your 18th birthday.. it's only a few weeks away before you leave for college-"
"Mom," I interject more agitated than intended. "I could use the alone time anyway. Just go." I peck the side of her cheek before swiftly picking up the small envelope from the floor and stuffing it in my back pocket. "Good night."
The steam from the shower clouds the mirror above my sink. I wipe a portion of the surface using the back of my forearm.
My unkempt black hair straggles across my forehead. I have a busted lip, several bruises, and a gash below my eyebrow. After opening the medicine cabinet my fingers fumble in several attempts to scout out the neglected prescription eye drops that were most likely expired. I tilt my head back forcefully separating my eyelids as the heavy liquid spreads across my left eyeball with the sensation of hot lava.
Both hands clutch the side of my face as I exhale with great force in more pain than I had felt all day.
Cursing under my breath, I try to rub the horrific sensation away. After blinking relentlessly for what feels like hours on end, I finally manage to open my eye steadily peering back at my reflection.
My eyebrows furrow as I inch closer to the mirror. My injured eye not only has a laceration above it, but the overall coloration and appearance had changed. My normal hazel toned eyes are no longer matched.
I stare back at the broad, diamond shaped pupil surrounded by a bright yellow hue that muddles into a dark orange tone.
After my shower I finally make it to the final destination I had craved for the last six hours or so.
My bed.
Before I hop underneath the sheets I brush my mail to the other side of the mattress. I habitually pick up my sports magazine mindlessly shuffling through the pages as the same juvenile envelope from before detaches fluttering to my chest.
I hold it close to my face mumbling the content out loud.
Mr. Hunter Walker
Hogwarts University
That was it. There's no return address.. in fact, there wasn't even an incoming address.
I mindlessly finger the envelope open.
My eyes nonchalantly scan the correspondence. It's written in what looks like a personalized letter, in calligraphy, inviting-
I can't resist letting out a well needed chuckle.
Dear Mr. Walker,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts University, School of Witchcraft and Wizadry.
The Next Evening
I'm alone at a bar on my eighteenth birthday and I had just received the worst phone call of my life.
Due to the events of yesterday my scholarship to the University of Southern California had been revoked. I don't know how I'm going to break the news to mom and dad.
I can barely digest it myself.
On the upside, my fake ID had worked for once.
My fingers lace through my hair as my eyes flicker between the Jameson on the rocks before me and the beastly man hunched over at the bar on my left.
"Bloody muggles. Can't tell the difference between gin and water if it hit 'em upside the head," the enormous man with a heavy British accent suddenly booms. I do a vicious double take before lightly sipping from the brim of my glass. I pray that my innate curiosity goes unnoticed as I examine the giant before me.
He's easily 7-8 feet tall with an enormous beard matching his equally bushy hair. His attire is.. unique. A petal pink umbrella appears to be attached to his waist.
"Some game, eh?" He references toward me as his beady eyes observe my face.
The visible injuries I had sustained from yesterday most likely objectify the appearance of a professional UFC fighter.
"Ay, pardon my manners," he continues, draining the martini glass held between three chubby fingers. "I don't mean to be a downer.. after all, it is 'yer birthday."
The expression on my face must resemble my inner conflict encouraging the giant to end the one-sided conversation.
"Right," he says nonchalantly reaching his arm into the knee length leather jacket hung around his broad shoulders. His hand practically the size of my face reaches across the bar, holding an all too familiar minuscule envelope.
It was the same unprecedented piece of mail I had opened the night before. I give in, hesitatingly accepting the parchment as I was in no position to deny the offer at this point.
"I think 'yers was lost."
I watch him multi-task flagging the bartender down by holding up two fingers with his other hand.
"I'm sorry," I finally respond in remembrance that I have vocal chords readily available. "I think.."
I glance at the envelope once more shaking my head.
Mr. Hunter Walker
Hogwarts University
".. I think you have the wrong Hunter."
My eyes flutter once more between he and the imitated envelope.
"Erm.. I think not," he says with a hearty chuckle. I grimace at the poor man's delusion. Deep down I was in no mood to reason with the drunk, yet there was something about the friendly twinkle in his eye that holds my patient attention.
"My last name is Peterson," I encourage pointing toward my chest.
The giant does half an eye roll before guzzling both freshly served martinis back to back.
"Maybe 'yer adoptive parents' last name," he replies with a wink. "McGonagall wasn't lyin'. You really do have 'yer mother's eyes."
The increasingly fascinating creature has to be delusional. But how did he know it's my birthday? After all, even if he had gotten a glance at my fake ID, it read a December birth date. It's the middle of June.
I can't shake the overwhelming curiosity he had evoked.
This Hogwarts University salesman - or alcoholic professor - whatever he was, is adamant and I'll give him that.
"My mother is half way across the world carelessly sipping on pina colada's as we speak," I reply in an unexpected spout of misery. I watch the dwindling ice cubes clink together finishing my drink.
The thud of his hand against the bar surface startles me as he waves down the bartender once more.
Another two martini's requested extra dirty.
My eyes search the man's defeated, almost annoyed expression.
"Have ya ever.." He pauses before slamming back both drinks. "Have ya ever had something happen.. something you can't explain? Eh?"
His all-too familiar eyes meet mine sending a chill up my spine.
"No," I bluntly reply in a failed attempt to act less intrigued than I am. "No," I repeat, shoving my hand in my pocket. My fingers fish out a crumpled twenty dollar bill placing it on the bar top.
"Something like at 'yer game there, yesterday?" He inches forward well aware that he has my full attention. "'Yer eye did heal up pretty quick, if I do say so myself."
My body heat rises and a cold sweat breaks out across the surface of my skin. My fingers twitch quickly brushing the hair across my forehead toward my left eye.
I need to get out of this bar.
Now.
"I.. I have to get going."
With half a nod and not another word, I rotate the bar stool away from him placing my feet on the ground. I don't risk giving him another look as I bolt toward the exit.
The warm California summer breeze hits my face exiting the swinging doors. My eyes scale the surroundings deep in thought as my vision remains safely on the sidewalk. My destination, similar to the night prior, was desperately needed.
My bed.
"Hey, Peterson!"
The eerie shadow of a group of about five to six guys approach me from the alleyway to my right.
I pay no mind keeping my pace at the same rate.
But it doesn't stop them.
"Hey FREAK! I was talking to you!" one of them shouts. My left eye twitches as I instinctively rub it with the back of my index finger.
The distraction of my bum eye, once again, acting up neglects the warning that I was about to run straight into someone.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Watch where you're going, buddy."
I stare up at one of the members of Sean's crew shaking his head with a chuckle.
"I don't want any trouble," I reply in all sincerity.
"Maybe you should have thought of that before sending our boy to the hospital."
The asphalt scratches my chin and palms as I'm aggressively shoved to the ground. The jocks swarm around me in laughter like a pack of hyenas.
"Ay!"
A bellowing voice from down the street distracts the herd of idiots as they freeze in place.
"Six against one, eh? Well is that really fair, now?"
The drunken friendly giant from the bar casually approaches them, opening his flask with one hand. The other grips the curious pastel pink umbrella.
"And who are you?" another from the group inquires puffing his chest out.
With one flick of the wrist, the tail end of the behemoth's umbrella illuminates casting a blinding beacon of light against the night sky.
All six members of the group vanish into thin air before my eyes transforming into dog-like creatures.
I want to scream, or piss my pants, but I'm too terrified to do either.
The colossal being crouches next to one of the animals as I stare on in horror and awe.
"Rubeus Hagrid," he answers, delicately patting it on the head. "Keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts University."
"What.. what are you?" my voice squeaks. I subconsciously kick myself in the ass; I had just watched him turn six guys my age into a pack of coyotes for questioning him, for fucks sake.
But I can't contain my intrigue.
"Er, an old friend." I hold my breath as he sluggishly makes his way toward me. He offers a humongous hand, pulling my whole body weight up above the ground before setting me on my feet. "Now don't you be telling Dumbledore about this. Not supposed 'ter use magic in the muggle world."
"Mr.-Mr. Hagrid.." I stutter.
"Call me Hagrid. Mr. Hagrid would be me father," he chuckles delighted with his joke.
"Hagrid," I correct myself. "How did.. you.. magic?" I had completely lost the ability to format sentences.
"Ay, enough of that nonsense," he chuckles once more unscrewing the flask. "We ain't 'round muggles no more. No need 'ter hide it. Now let's get goin'."
Turning his back to me, Hagrid waves from behind indicating me to follow.
"Get- get going where?"
"Oh for peets sake," the giant turns silencing me. "Hogwarts, o' course. Now 'yer comin'.." he then points to Sean's friends - I mean coyotes - barking and sniffing each other in confusion. ".. Unless yeh'd like to stay o' course." He turns his back to me again, his long legs striding down the alley.
Without another thought, I glance at the dogs once more before sprinting after him.