{Prologue- Unpleasant Greetings}
Harry smiles anxiously as his green eyes wonder the familiar train station he's come to know. To say that he's excited for another term at Hogwarts is an understatement. He's thrilled, ecstatic, adrenalized. Harry can already hear his mates, Ron and Hermione, bickering away at some ridiculous thing that isn't important. But the best part? He knows for certain that the Dark Lord won't be making an appearance. After all, the Dark Lord is finally vanquished for good... Yet even so, he's still rather jumpy about that subject.
All Harry has to do to begin the new, and his last year, is locate platform nine and three- quarters so he could board the enormous vehicle in which will take him to his friends and to his school.
Weaving through the crowd of Muggles, the Wizard begins to pull his heavy trunk behind him with his left hand. His eyes start to dance along each platform number, his throat suddenly running dry as he does so.
Stopping a few hundred feet behind his destination, Harry turns to his right the moment he spots a drinking fountain. He pulls his trunk up in perfect balance, ceasing the tight grip he has on it. Using his right hand, he pushes the button on the appliance before leaning in and taking a big desperate long sip of water. Unfortunately, a stupid Muggle bumps into the young Wizard, making his head hit the dirty tiled wall extremely hard before he even had a chance to waist more than ten seconds using the appliance.
Yanking away from the modern day machine, Harry turns around in an attempt to find the individual that bumped into him. He lifts his hand up to his forehead in failure a minute later, turning back around to study the rather large dent he unintentionally created on the wall.
Suddenly, a buzzing noise nears his right ear while his famous scar begins to burn and his vision becomes blurry despite the fact he's wearing glasses. Adding onto that, his breathing pattern increases insanely, causing him to pant heavily and his skin turning into an ugly ghostwhite color. Mortals gaze at the wizard oddly, wondering what on earth has caused him to behave so inhumane.
Gulping down the bit of water that was still sitting on his tongue, Harry rubs his forehead in agonizing pain. Shutting his eyes and shaking his head erratically, the wizard's vision returns to normal. He then yanks his body three feet away from the drinking fountain, lifting his head from the machine and finally realizing the many sets of eyes inspecting him. His cheeks turn into a deep scarlet shade of red, his body language representing uneasiness at the unwanted spotlight beaming at him brightly.
Clearing his now moist throat, he rolls his trunk once again and resumes walking towards his assigned platform, ignoring the cop that has asked him "Are you alright, son?"
Harry makes a disgusted face as the odd flavored water finally sinks in and quickly runs down his throat.
Dismissing the unusual flavor, Harry focuses on trying to reach his destination. His green eyes dance around each platform number as his pace starts to become faster. Just as his migraine reached its peak, Harry halts in front of the platform he has been trying to find for the past half hour.
"Finally." He exhales in exhausting relief, gazing at the escape he's been wanting all Summer.
Analyzing his surroundings cautiously, Harry prepares himself to run through the pillar. He averts his attention back towards the pillar, later putting weight on his right leg. Hesitantly, he begins to run towards the pillar. Luckily for him, he was able to pass through without any dilemmas.
The fresh air of Witchcraft and Wizardry travels through the young lad's nose the second he entered the Wizarding World. His eyes shine with challenge as he gazed around the train he now walks about. Attempting to find his mates, the Wizard acknowledges the many greetings from different students he receives along the way. He reaches the end of the train, finally finding his friends.
Not seeing Harry, Hermione and Ron continue their conversation with their back facing towards their friend.
Snatching a delicious Chocoballs of a plate, Hermione inches farther away from the ginger. "That's your fifth chocolate frog, Ron. You're going to get ill."
Throwing the card across the seats that was previously tucked in the box, Ron grunts in annoyance. "Ugh! Not again."
Taking a small bite of her treat, Hermione pauses for a short period of time. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Before Ron had the opportunity to reply, Harry took this quick moment of silence to make himself known to his friends. "Another Hengist card, I assume is what's wrong."
"Harry!" The two young Wizards gasp in happiness.
Both Ron and Hermione stand up to fully take on Harry's mature appearance. Of course, Hermione was the first to hug the lad while Ron played it cool and just gave Harry a friendly punch to the shoulder.
"How are you, mate? We haven't heard from you all Summer." Ron ponders curiously, wondering why Harry hasn't replied to any of his or Hermione's letters all Summer. Again.
Harry takes his seat in front of his friends by the window, setting his shoulder bag on the empty spot next to him. "That's not my issue; you lot haven't answered any of my letters."
Ron and Hermione exchange a strange look in which their friend catches instantly. Harry suddenly felt a bad feeling bolt through his veins.
"We never received any letters, Harry." Hermione says, confirming Harry's suspicions.
Harry shakes his head, knowing that he had indeed send his friends letters. Over a hundred in fact. He has the paper- cuts and the ink stains on most of his clothes to prove it.
"I've sent you letters." He exhales, tensing up a bit from paranoia. "Tons of them, I swear."
"Well, maybe you incorrectly addressed them or your messenger lost them." Hermione tries, nervously blinking afterwards.
Ron clears his throat. "Yeah, Errol does that all the time. He's so clumsy it's actually astonishing he delivers the mail correctly half the time."
Harry knows for a fact that his friends are attempting to reassure him of things. However, he doesn't believe them. He wants to but he just doesn't and he can't even pretend to either. After all, having to go through some stuff as he and his friends did you tend to have a hard time with trust issues and also tend to grow rather anxious.
Hermione leans forward and rest a hand on Harry's right knee. "Everything is fine, evil itself has been trounced. There's nothing left and we can go through this term without anything getting in the way."
Looking between a fearful Ron and a stressed Hermione, Harry licks his chapped lips. Just as he was about to speak, an actual bolt appeared. But not in his veins, in the dark mysterious blue sky. Ron of course jumped, dropping the sweet balls of candy that was once in his hand while Hermione violently pulled back. Harry, on the other hand, freezes in his place.
Thunder booms throughout the air causing the trio to look out the window. Relief washes over them like a gigantic hurricane. A second later, water drops from the invisible clouds above, landing on everything, harshly, outside the interior of the train.
Suddenly, weary takes over Harry and both his mates took note of this.
"How long haven't you slept?" Ron asks worriedly, seeing how pale his mate has become.
"I.. I don't know." The famous Wizard answers, trying to dodge the question in hopes to not give his friends another pathetic thing to worry about it.
"Harry." Ron demands, surprising Hermione by his intense use of strictness.
Potter ruffles up his hair. "Alright! Uh, about a week or so, I believe."
Ron and Hermione frowns deeply. Hermione moves a string of hair behind her ear, chomping on her bottom lip.
"Harry, you should get some rest- going without it is most certainly is not good for you." She suggested, earning a nod of agreement from Ron.
Harry exhales a sharp breath. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."
Finally giving into the sleep that's been summoning him for days, Harry shifts his position and leans his head on the window. He ignores the rain drumming against it and watches as Hermione dives back into her book and Ron returning back to making love with his food. He traps himself into a staring contest with the glistening moon. Hoping to not dream another vicious nightmare, Harry nervously yet slowly shuts his eyes, letting sleep welcome him easily.
Falling from the sky he was previously staring at, the Wizard lands on his bottom with a loud bang. Having yet feeling more pain, Harry whimpers at the contact.
"Bloody hell." Harry complains, achingly standing up from his place on the floor. He rubs his sore, mild injury while gazing around the random, unfamiliar room he's been driven to.
It's not just any room, in fact, it's a living room. This room contains two brown soft couches, a polished dark auburn hardwood floor, many pictures hanging on the eggshell wall, a red old piano, a tall bookshelf, a telly, two small coffee tables and an electrical fireplace with a few unique lamps set in different corners. And as if it couldn't get any stranger, the room Harry's been sent to has no windows or doors whatsoever.
Walking cautiously towards his left where the bookshelf is, Harry curiously scans it and removes a random book from the middle. Flipping through the pages, Harry stops, suddenly catching movement from the corner of his right eye.
"Who's there?" He ridiculously calls out, deciding to put the book back on its shelf.
Walking towards to the front of the room where the telly and the other couch is, he gets ready to take out his wand from his back pocket. Squinting his eyes, he carefully listens to an shaky thick breathing noise. Detecting the source of the breathing, Harry shifts his attention towards the couch in which is planted neatly in the corner. A small space of air is in between the wall and the couch, allowing anything that's the Wizard's size or smaller to fit in it. And Harry strongly believes that there is something in that space.
"Come out." Harry inhales, taking a couple steps forward and tightening the grip he has on his wand. "Come out, now!"
A few seconds of intimidating silence later, the couch slowly moves forward and surprisingly, a Muggle enters Harry's vision.
The Wizard's eyes widen at the scene that has unfolded. He analyzes the stranger's features in shock and in confusion.
The Muggle is without a doubt attractive; any person straight or not will think so. He currently has on dark blue skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, a grey unzipped thin jacket and a pair of tennis shoes. The size of his muscles are huge and extremely impressive. To top it all off, this Muggle has green eyes just like Harry's, but a better green. He also has short black hair as well.
The Muggle moves away from the corner and stands in the middle of the side of the room he's on. Harry releases the grip he has on his wand, putting it back in his back pocket and starts to walk towards the middle as well. Both teenage boys stare at each other with the same expression planted on their faces.
The Muggle broke the ice first. "What in the world is going on?" He asks, copying Harry's thoughts. "Who are you? Why have you invaded my dream?"
Harry blinks, surprised as to how this boy doesn't know who he is and confirming the fact that he is indeed a Muggle. "I'm Harry." He introduces himself confidently. "And this isn't your dream, it's mine."
The Muggle scoffs. "It is so my dream! I've been dreaming of this place for weeks and then you randomly show up and interrupted the only time I have peace."
Harry rolls his eyes in annoyance at the Muggle's mad theory. "Listen, this is my-"
The Muggle loudly snaps his fingers, stopping Harry from speaking any further. "I got it, I'll just vanish you. After all, you aren't real, you're just a figment of my imagination."
Feeling offended at the statement the Muggle just announced, Harry glares at him. He knows for a fact that he is too real- he has the evidence to prove it.
The Muggle closes his eyes, clenching his fists. "Be gone." He chants, looking very determined to make his wish come true.
Harry crosses his arms over his chest, smirking at the failed plan. The Muggle then opens his eyes having shock shadowing over them a moment after.
"That's impossible, you should have disappeared by now." The Muggle claims, walking quietly towards Harry who then follows the individual's actions.
The Wizard resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I told you, this is my dream."
The young Muggle shakes his head in disapproval. "No, this is my dream. I fell asleep about five minutes ago after I-" The Muggle pauses, showing off hesitance in his eyes. "After I... came back home from work." He swallows, exhaling a deep breath.
The Wizard halts his walking the same time the Muggle did, putting a distance of at least four feet. The Wizard then noticed the glass wall in the middle of the room during the process of starring down the stranger before him.
Once again, he blinks. "What's with the glass wall?" He quizzes, reaching out to touch it.
"Oh, that? It showed up about a week ago- made me almost piss my pants." The Muggle widen his eyes in fear. "Don't touch it! What are you, nuts?!"
Harry freezes in warning, curiosity beginning to flood his body. "Why mustn't I touch it? It's just a wall."
"Because, this wall isn't just a wall. It is a wall that will do very harmful things to you if you even try to touch it." The Muggle gulps, gaining Harry's full attention. "Trust me, I learned that the hard way."
Lowering his hand, the Wizard awkwardly gazes at the Muggle, appreciating that although they are strangers, he warned him about the wall. "Alright, so a harmful wall, a weird room and a companion to go with it." He concludes, finding this entire thing unusual. "Better than having a bloody nightmare, I suppose."
The stranger awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. "What's up with the robe? I mean, you're a geek, yeah, but a robe, seriously?!"
Harry forwards his eyes, anger boiling inside of him. The stranger presses his mouth into a thin line. "Well, damn. This is nuts; I can't believe I'm dreaming about a geek." He laughs, his head throwing back in amusement.
"What's your problem?" Harry asks, not really meaning to voice his thoughts aloud.
The stranger lets out a chuckle. "You're my problem, British Boy. I ordered you to disappear yet you don't move an inch."
"How many times do I have to get this through your thick head?" Harry rolls his eyes, trying to convince the stranger of his ways. "This. Is. Not. Your. Dream."
The stranger calms down his chuckling. "And how many times do I have to tell you it is? Look British boy, I arrived here earlier, I know this place well."
This time, Harry didn't resist the urge to roll his eyes but the stranger didn't let it affect him. "That's stupid."
"No it is not." Before silence was able to surround the two boys, the stranger continued speaking.
"I'm real." Harry hissed, curling up his fingers against his palm.
This time the Muggle crosses his arms over his own chest. "Prove it." He scoffs, holding his head up high, unintentionally allowing Harry to see in his nostrils. The Wizard wrinkles his nose in disgust.
"I have a name."
"Oh, is that so? What is it then?" The stranger laughs in amusement.
"I mentioned it earlier, you imbecile." The young Wizard rolls his eyes.
The idiotic Muggle huffs, his ears turning slightly pink. "I'm not an imbecile- I meant your full name, British Boy."
"Harry James Potter." The Wizard informs him, catching the Muggle's short defeated scowl. "If you're so real, what is your name?" Harry challenges, finding the sudden courage to put the hothead on the spot.
"I don't have to tell you my name." The Muggle snaps, unfolding his crossed arms. "You would make an infinite amount of jokes about it just like everyone else I had met."
Harry places his hands on his hips. "I don't really fancy my name that much either but I told you nevertheless."
Silence drips between the two individuals as both of their heart rates pick up. The Muggle slightly moves his fingers at his side while letting his tongue run over his lips. Harry has been completely still while the stranger in front of him has not. And this fills frightens Harry deeply; it causes him to pessimistically believe that this stranger will without a doubt try to hurt him. But then again, there is a wall that's apparently dangerous.
"Fine, I'll tell you my name." The boy agrees, pausing for dramatic effect, still moving all ten of his fingers. "But only if you tell me how you got that hideous scar on your forehead, first."