AN: Hello all potential readers, if you have not noticed this is my first story, that's just something I feel I should mention. At some point in the chapter I switched from writing in the third person and decided to do the first person instead, so there might be a couple of errors. I know it's not a very long chapter but it's kind of to lay the premise of the story down and to see if I get any feedback from reviewers. (If you like the story tell me so, not sure if I should continue or not.) Anyways, the Harry Potter world isn't mine, it's owned by J.K. Rowling,(Do I have to say that, or is just something people do?) and all credits to the world she created goes to her and what not. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the story, review if you liked it please and thank you.

October 31st, 1981.

As Dumbledore sat in his office full of small and large, silver, whirring magical artifacts. Creating white noise that he preferred to think under. His Phoenix Fawkes beside him, who was managing to stand upright on his stand while sleeping. His fiery golden feathers glimmering under the soft glow of his night lamp. His eyes settled onto the one and half-year-old child in front of him, Harry Potter.

Earlier in the night, he had arrived at the Potter home only to find it in shambles. Upon discovering the child he quickly took the babe to his office, to ponder on what exactly he thought he should do with the child. He knew that Lord Voldemort had created at least one horcrux, but during the war, he couldn't find the time to search for a single one. Between being the headmaster of Hogwarts and the leader of Order of The Phoenix, he couldn't steal the time to go traipsing throughout the country looking for the dark artifacts. He had hoped to destroy Voldemort's body and then start a search for the horcruxes and it seemed he'd finally get the chance, thanks to the young boy in front of him. Or at least he believed it was due to the boy. The fact of the matter was that no one, not even himself, could ever understand how the child had survived the killing curse.

The words "he will have power the Dark Lord knows not" echoed in his mind. There was only one thing he knew for certain Lord Voldemort did not know and that was love. Perhaps Lilly's love for Harry allowed him to survive somehow? But that was a stupid line of thought. He was sure there were plenty of mothers who loved their sons even though they were Death Eaters. Why would the love of Harry's mother, Lily, be more important than the love of the Death Eater's mothers? Or were there no other mothers who cared for their children? No. So it must be something to do with magic.

Although there was one thing he knew for certain, and that was that he could not leave the child unprepared and undefended for what was to come, and he'd also need to mold Harry Potter into a powerful wizard. It didn't matter if he had the power the Dark Lord knew not if 5 seconds into their duel he was overpowered and killed. But powerful wizards and wizards powerful enough to equal Lord Voldemort hardly came a dime a dozen. He'd need to ensure that the child would gain certain attitudes and qualities. That would hopefully help him become an equal to Lord Voldemort. The ones he believed would help the child the most were intelligence, curiosity and a willingness to work hours on end to achieve a certain goal. Some cunning and perceptiveness wouldn't hurt too. But how could he ensure all these qualities?

Children who grew up in the magical world tended to become far too satiated around magic, forgetting about the wonders and mysteries hidden inside of it. So he'd need to be raised, at least in part, at the most ordinary and boring place he could find. He'd also need to make sure the only source of entertainment the young Harry could have was books, so he'd grow up with reading as his only escape from his incredibly boring life. In hopes that it'd cause him to be eternally fascinated by magic as well as cause him to study more. That hopefully would ensure his traits of intelligence and curiosity, and a few compulsive charms on the first few books wouldn't hurt to start his reading obsession. He couldn't plot a way to ensure perceptiveness or cunning, he'd just have to leave it to luck to see if he'd learn the traits.

He'd also have to introduce Harry to the wizarding world earlier than eleven, allowing him to only start his education at the same time as all the other children wouldn't be giving him any advantages, perhaps eight or nine? He might even be able to persuade Ollivander to give Harry a wand earlier in exchange for some favour, and allow Harry to practice inside the impenetrable wards of Hogwarts where the ministry couldn't detect underage magic.

With his plan in place, he apparated to the doorstep of the Dursleys. The hedges surrounding the property seemed to be cut to an almost unbearably perfectly normal degree. The lawn looked as though it was freshly cut. And even though it was mid Fall, there were no leaves on the manicured garden. Yes, this would do. He approached the door and knocked on ready to makes his specific demands. Perhaps some legilimency would help "convince" them to his plans.

August 3rd, 1988.

I woke up at 8:00 am, my alarm clock blaring a loud irritating sound. I hit the off button and sat up on my bed. I looked around his room, noting my grade 9 textbooks despite only finishing grade 2 last summer. But while others may have found it odd, if they knew that I was, in fact, reading about things only taught once you reached grade 9, I did not. The only times I was ever let out of his room upstairs was at meal times, or when the school year was on, in the mornings so I could leave for it. And having nothing else to do but read books I could take from the library, I had reached the grade 9 curriculum. I could have been reading about the grade 12 curriculum if I had only focused on school textbooks, but at times I got bored of the subject, or it took a longer period of time then usual to grasp a concept, and so I switched to my other, "light" reading material. Having nothing else to do but read, my mind was forced to grow almost painfully fast, to be able to understand the scriptures and have some sort of entertainment in the form of books.

I had actually found out that 2 years before I started attending school, the school that I went to, was in fact fairly small, and only went from grade 1-5. But had a complete overhaul and turned into a 4 story school that went from grade 1-12. I even heard the librarian say that the old library wasn't bigger than a simple living room, now the library boasted being the biggest school library in all of Western Europe. Only being outdone by a state-funded school somewhere in Moscow. I was quite lucky that the changes took place when they did, or I wouldn't have been able to even take out textbooks higher than those for the 5th grade.

From what I could tell of the event, the change was incredibly abrupt, and no one knew why it happened or who thought it was a good idea.

A loud knock at the door startled me and interrupted my musings. It was my cousin, Dudley.

"Breakfast" He simply said and left the door to my room open so I could get out.

It was perhaps the only time the two of us ever interacted. Must've been his parents doing. Leaving the room and walking downstairs, I sat at the far side of the table. I inspected my legal guardian's faces as I ate my breakfast. Whenever my aunt Petunia looked at me, I could notice a small tinge of fear in her eyes. But why she was scared of an 8 year old, was beyond him. Noticing that his Uncle was staring at him, I glanced at him. My uncle's face always looked angry when he looked at me. Even though my uncle always seemed to be offended with my presence, he never did anything about it, even though he quite clearly wanted to. Unless you count locking me up in a room and only letting him out if my uncle needed to. I could never find the source of my uncle's hatred toward me, other then him sometimes muttering "strangeness", "freak" and "strange boy" all in tandem, there was nothing else to go on.

Although I could agree sometimes strange things happened around me. At times I was looking for a book and they almost magically appeared on his bed or nightstand when I could've sworn he had checked them thoroughly. Or at times when I was looking for a specific book in the library and it somehow appeared on an empty desk when they were almost all empty. There were also some other, smaller incidents, that he couldn't quite remember, but the fact of the matter was, I knew I was different. I wasn't sure how. But I'd find out. My uncle and aunt may think that I'm nothing special, that they could just lock me up in my room and treat me as though I didn't exist, but one day I'd show them, that I was something extraordinary, I'd show the world that. With that, I stood up and deposited my plate into the sink and left to go back into his gilded cage.

As Harry laid down in his bed later on the same day, reading his grade 9 science textbook about how electricity reacted to different elements. There was a knock at the door again.

"Dinner" was all Dudley said as he left the door open and ran back downstairs.

As I went downstairs and looked at my parents, it looked like we'd be having some mashed potatoes with some baked chicken.

"Oh, this all looks lovely Petunia, just lovely. What do I call this mushy thing again?" Vernon exclaimed

"Hmmmmm, I can't seem to remember. What was it again, oh yes, mashed potatoes!" She seemed pleased to be able to remember the word for it, for some odd reason.

Actually, they seemed incredibly odd in general. Uncle Vernon started cutting up the chicken into mismatched proportions. One of the pieces of chickens was almost half the thing! He even handed that piece to Petunia instead of himself.

Were they on drugs? I looked closely at their eyes but I couldn't see any tinge of redness or the pupils expanding and contracting at odd intervals. So, were they just, acting weird for some reason? Vernon was holding his knife and fork in the wrong hands, which I couldn't remember him doing anytime before. Even though he was the size of half a school bus with how much he ate, he always had good table etiquette. Now that I looked at my uncle's plate I noticed that the amount of food he took was incredibly small, less than half of what he usually took. Okay then, that couldn't be right. Vernon Dursley never ate small proportions, if he had, he wouldn't have managed his greatest achievement of weighing the same as the rest of the neighborhood put together. So there must be something wrong with them.

Deciding to keep a close eye on the two of them, I started eating my food. I dug into my food, to which I attest to you was absolutely delicious, my aunt may be a terrible guardian towards me and probably a crap person in general, but one thing you couldn't disrespect about her was her cooking skills.

As I ate, I got thirsty, right before I was about to grab my cup, it just floated towards me. Everyone stared at me.

"What did you just do you freak!" He had happened to me before, where I had done something that seemed almost magical, in front of my uncle and aunt. They had always screamed at me with a barely restrained rage that spoke promises of pain, but even then, they had always held back. Even though like it seemed like it was one of their greatest regrets not being able to do so as they wished.

Deciding to save his ears from death by screeching banshees. He started to head for the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going you freak! I've had it long enough, you living in the house as though you're normal like the rest of us! I can't remember why in God's name I ever put up with you! But you're going to learn your place in this house! And that's beneath my feet you useless mongrel!" Vernon was yelled at the top of his lungs.

I tried to scramble for the stairs, but a meaty hand slapped down onto my ankle dragging me down.

" I thought I told you to stay put! It's time for you to learn to respect us."

Vernon dragged me down the staircase. I tried to twist around so I could face him, but as he dragged me down the stairs, the back of my head hit the edge of a stair and my head began to swim. He dragged me up by the shoulders and his hand closed around my throat, lifting me up by the neck and pushing me against the wall.

I desperately tried to breathe, but my young body was hardly going to win against Dursley who was built like some fatter than average sumo wrestler.

" I'm going to put you in your place!" he yelled as he cocked back his fist.

The other Dursleys just stared at the scene, my aunt almost with glee, and Dudley looked like he didn't really get what was happening.

Just as he was about to break my face in with his gigantic hands, the doors to the house slammed open!

"Stop." Said the most commanding voice I had ever heard. It was odd, if I tried to listen to the voice objectively, I wouldn't have thought it of anything. Yet for some reason, it commanded respect and power as I had heard from no one else.

Vernon's grip on my neck slackened as he stared at the man standing in the doorway. I slid to the floor, my back against the wall gulping in deep breaths, my lungs greedy for some much needed oxygen. For a few seconds there I thought I would've suffocated.

As I looked at my aunt and uncle's faces, their faces complexion seemed to whiten to something comparable to paper.

"Please don't do anything to us, I didn't mean to hurt the boy, I swear!" Vernon got on his knees and practically begged to the stranger.

Wait a second… did Vernon just beg to someone? What the hell. Who the hell was the man at the door? I tried to scrutinize the person at the door, my eyes still blurry with tears wasn't able to pick out many details. He looked as though he was wearing robes or some sort of dress with sleeves. The colour of the robes looked as though it changed with the light, or something similar? He looked quite old with a long a white beard, and he was wearing an odd looking deep blue hat that looked that was circular but flat at the top with some sort of pompom on the top. As an altogether image, it wasn't something he could really compare to the voice. In fact, it was something someone off their rockers would wear, and yet there was some indescribable aura around the man. As though when he walked forward, all the objects around him would move out of the way.

"Silence." The old man simply said in the same commanding voice. He then stared at me. When he started at me it felt as if he was looking at me deeper then anyone ever had before. As though his gaze went straight through my eyes and into my very soul.

"Ah Harry, I've come to pick you up," He said in a much too casual manner for what was happening around him. Petunia looked as though she was 5 seconds from fainting. Vernon looked as though he wanted to barf. And I could swear that there was a small stain around Dudley's private area.

"Pick me up?" I asked in obvious confusion.

"Yes, I've come to take you to a new home," He said.

Who the hell was this man? He decides to just walk in the house he's been living in for the last near decade, walk all over his aunt and uncle, mind you that I wasn't really mad about that. And just say, Let's go? I'd never seen the man in my life, not even heard of him, and he expected to just walk away from his life and go with him for whatever reason?

But do you not feel it? The power the man has? The way he demands respect from all who gaze at him? You want to be different, special, unforgettable? Do you not? Could this man not help you? I thought in a voice that didn't sound much like my own.

"Who… Who are you?" I asked suspiciously.

"I, young Harry, am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, but you may simply call me Dumbledore." Now that didn't make me any less confused.

"And why do you want to take me... wherever?" I continued to question him.

"You may be surprised to learn this Harry, but the both of us are special, and we are not the only ones. There's a whole world full of people like the both of us, and that's where you belong. I wished for you to live with your family after your parents passed on. But it seems like they can not take appropriate care of you."

At this point, my head was spinning. He was creating a lot more questions then he was answering. I chose to question the one that interested me the most.

"Special? How am I special?" I asked

" We are wizards, Harry." He said with a faint smile on his face.

"W-wizards?" I repeated, stunned.

"Yes Harry, we're wizards."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" I questioned as I started to gain my bearings.

At that, he simply turned to the dining table, took some long stick out of his sleeve, pointed it at the desk. A stream of purple came out of it and it hit the table, morphing it into a wolf, the wolf just slowly blinked for a few seconds before turning back into a table.

"That is what we call transfiguration magic." He calmly explained.

I simply stared at the dining table that had previously been alive. I slowly turned my eyes to the old man. Did I want to go with him? This could be my chance to be different, couldn't it? But didn't he say there was a whole world full of them? All these different people capable of seemingly impossible feats? But in the end, it didn't matter, he'd be the best of them if he had to. This world seemed simply too amazing.

"I'll come with you," I said

He smiled at me with a soft twinkle in his eyes. "Now then, if you just grab onto my arm. I'll take you to your new home."

I hesitantly approached him and grabbed onto his arm.