Not mine, though...well, never you mind.

Prologue

A five year old boy huddled under a threadbare blanket as a flash of lightning thundered across the sky. Though he could not see the flash, being locked in a small cupboard, the crack was still deafened him momentarily. The sound of the telly had stopped abruptly, and the boy could hear his uncle cussing from the lounge. He heard his uncle, a large man to say the least, pound his way down the hall. To his surprise, the door to his cupboard was quite suddenly yanked open, and his uncles face appeared in its place. Said face was a twisted shade of purple as he spout out angrily:

"The storm put out the telly, boy, get on the roof and adjust the damn satellite dish, and be quick about it."

This was accompanied by a large hand reaching out to grasp him by the front of his over-large tee, yanking the boy out of the cupboard and towards the door. Harry, for this boy was indeed Harry Potter, a name whispered with reverence in the magical community, cowered in fear. There was no reverence from the larger man, where some reverence may have been due. Indeed, the man swung his hand at the boy for good measure as, in his eyes, the boy was taking far too long.

Harry scampered out the door, hesitating momentarily at the edge of the porch, before venturing out into the deluge. He was soaked instantly, and by the time he reached the back of the house, he was shivering severely. As he climbed to the roof, a flash of lightning once again lit the sky accompanied immediately by an overwhelming roar. Harry hung to the rail tightly in fright, as the flash subsided.

Once on the roof, Harry looked to the satellite dish. He could barely make it out even as he crawled towards it. It had been skewed away from it's usual position, easily fixed under normal circumstances. Harry remembered how it should be from his frequent visits on the roof to clean the gutters. He tried pulling the satellite, but he wasn't nearly strong enough. Instead, he stood, using his weight to slowly, painstakingly pull the satellite back to it's usual position.

He did not see the clouds above him rolling with sparks in preparation for yet another strike, focused as he was on the dish and battling the wind and rain. Therefore he did not realize he was the single highest point on his street of strictly identical house, even an enormous bolt of energy hit him straight in the chest, and the last thought in his mind as he tumbled off the roof was: "Why me?"

Down below, the large man, known to Harry as Uncle Vernon Dursley, heard a boom, as the static of the telly flicked back to the news channel. He had already forgotten the boy he had sent to the roof 5 minutes later as the reporter explained a new law being passed on construction equipment.

It was hours later in the wee hours of the morning, when the storm had finally abated and , that Harry awoke. He was a sorry sight indeed. His clothes, though not much to look at before, were now so burnt and ripped that they appeared as no more than rags. His skin was blackened by ash, his hair was a tangled mess, and the side on which he was laying was coated with mud. More surprisingly however, upon closer inspection, one would notice that the body underneath this mess appeared unharmed, a feat few if any could boast of; even in the wizarding world.

Unbeknownst to the boy, he had been saved by a motley collection of random occurrences, even more rare than those leading to his fame. Indeed, the ward his mother created at her death had once again protected him, by absorbing the lightning. However, wards can only contain so much energy, and therefore it was forced to funnel the excess back to the source of the ward. In simple terms, the ward had transformed the lightning strike into a vast amount of magic, and shoved it right into the young Harry. This would have killed the boy under more normal circumstances, as a magical core has it's limits, and has been known to explode under such circumstances, causing immediate death.

Harry, as was noted before, had something to save him though. It was, ironically, a relic of the attempt on his life. Indeed, a soul fragment was imbedded inside of him, using him as a host, impeding his growth, but assuring his survival. This soul was from a very powerful wizard, and was knowledgeable of many empowerment rituals. It knew the excess magic would kill the boy if it did nothing, and so set about assuring it's own survival. It could not assimilate the magic itself, having no physical basis, but it could direct it. It first redirected the magic to the body, where magic is can be stored temporarily, such as right before casting a spell. It then allowed the magic to slowly trickle into the boys core, allowing it the time to stretch, strengthen, and grow. Finally the soul fragment was done, after nearly ten hours, the boys core had grown tenfold, and was nearly threefold the size of an average grown wizard. Something that went unnoticed by all was a large amount of magic swirling and dissipating in the boys brain, where the magic seemed the most concentrated.

Harry was unconcerned by all this, being distracted by the intense aching he felt through his entire body, and a foreboding migraine at his temples.

The incident passed unnoticed by Harry's relatives, and was quickly forgotten by Harry himself. In his opinion, he had either been very lucky, or it had something to do with his "freakishness", something his relatives were quick to believe. In either case he preferred not to think or speak of it, as the last time he acted freakishly, allegedly turning his teachers hair blue, his relatives had left him over a week in the cupboard with no food or water. He was still to young to know this would have killed a normal child.

No, nothing changed quite abruptly. He had been one of the best students of his class, and continued to be the best. He was no longer in the same class as his cousin, Dudley, and so he needed not hide when in class. He did however become very apt at faking his uncle's signature on his impressive reports, so as not to provoke his family, particularly his cousin. He took to waking up early and fetching the mail so as to intercept letters from his teacher as well. After his uncle received the first sometime around the age of four, he had been left bleeding after a "play-date" with Dudley and all his mates

Though he did not notice it, Harry exhibited some remarkable after effects. His memory improved dramatically to the point where he had perfect recall, also known as eidetic memory. This was also around the time he discovered the library. His teacher had recommend some "advanced reading", seeing as he was so far ahead of his class, and he had been given directions to the local library. This was possibly an even more formative event than the lightening, for Harry simply devoured books. He would hide at the library, at bookstores too sometimes if he got away with it, and read book after book. He would come home late and tell his relatives he got in trouble. They would be pleased, and would not question why they received no phone calls as they often did for their son.

In this way that an nine year old Harry found himself in year 7*, and physically as big to boot. As he had an enormous magical core, which only grew in time as all other things do, his body had been forced to expand alongside it. To those non magic folk around him, it appeared he had simply undergone puberty. An early bloomer if you will, not at all uncommon.

It was to this and the fact that he was now a head taller than his cousin, though still significantly less massive, that Harry attributed a recently noted change in his family's treatment of him. They were in no respects kind, or loving, but they no longer abused him, for abused him they had. He had requested and received the smallest bedroom of the house, not without much fuss, but as he had pointed out, he longer fit in the cupboard, and they were forced to agree, especially if they didn't want the Rozzers*1 to go about investigating why a boy lived in a cupboard. He had by this time mastered delicate manipulation of his family mainly through thinly veiled threats.

Despite his apparent genius, in almost all fields, Harry was still extremely ignorant in a critical field: Himself. He did not understand that others did not have perfect recall. He did not think of himself as special in any way. Indeed humility was maybe a quality that the Dursleys had succeeded in drilling into him. It also meant that he ignored many otherwise apparent signs. For instance, animals or all sorts loved him, and would often even obey commands, sometimes even unspoken ones. He also had an uncanny f moods, particularly feeling for moods especially in animals, since they did little to hid their feelings, but he also had a knack picking up when a women was having her "time of the month", at least when it was particularly bad.

It just so happened that one day something happened that young Harry could not ignore. He was sitting in what had become his usual spot at the library, reading a Year 9* Biology textbook. He was thinking of taking his KS3* exams at the end of the next year, and had already begun to study. He wanted to move of to KS4* as quickly as possible.

As the librarian passed by with her trolly, collecting discarded books, he distinctly heard her mutter: "That boy is still here, I wonder what his family did for him to hide out here." Surprised, he looked up. She was still staring at him sullenly. As he watched her, he heard: "If it weren't for him, I would be on my home already!". Her lips hadn't moved.

A/N: Uhm, first serious story. I wrote this pretty quickly, about 3-4 hours or so. I chose a specific omniscient exterior to set the story quickly, but the rest of the story will follow Harry or Luna's perspective, occasionally others for plot purposes. This is only the prologue, and I think I can write a 4K chapter per week, so stay tuned !

I would really appreciate Reviews, obviously, anonymous or not, flames or not, and I am looking for a BETA, particularly to speak to about what I can and can't do with the story.

I am open to ideas to direct the story, though I make no promises. If you would like the story to go in a certain direction, then pm me ( or leave a review, but that may turn into spoilers for other people.)

*Years are the equivalent of grades in the UK, and KS3 is the equivalent of middle school.