Journey of a Hero

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter…sadly.

Chapter 1: A Journey Unfolds

'Thinking'

"Talking"

"Death Talking"

"~Parseltongue~"

- Unknown Location -

A moment of bliss, as if having just woken up from a long, restful sleep. Feeling nothing but an overwhelming sense of peace, our young hero slowly begins to drag himself up into a seated position, sparing nothing more than passing thought in confusion over when he had fallen asleep.

Taking a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes, our hero can't help but revel in the wondrous sleep he had woken from.

Slowly, he spares a cursory glance at his surroundings as his brain slowly begins to process what he's seeing. Freezing in place, he eyes grow wide.

'…What?'

Refusing to believe what he sees; he quickly closes his eyes and begins to aggressively rubs his palms into them. A desperate attempt to clear away the memory, refusing to acknowledge what he saw as anything other than a figment of his imagination.

Fearfully opening his eyes, fear and desperation settle into full-blown panic as he looks on in utter bafflement.

'That's not possible.'

Unfortunately for our young hero, as much as he tries to deny it, what he's seeing is real.

For what lied around him, as far as the eye can see, lies an endless galaxy spanning across every direction. A black void, decorated with the bright lights of distant stars and the fluorescent glow of multi-colored nebulae, painting a canvas of silent beauty.

Looking down, all he can see is more of the galaxy, as if he is floating and yet his feet feel like they are standing on solid ground.

'What the…Where am I?'

"You are in the Void."

- The Void -

Startled, he quickly spins around to see where the voice came from. The unprepared movement, combined with shock at the new surroundings, causes him to trip and fall.

Landing on his back, he can't help but grimace at the rough impact. The fleeting thought of how he could land on what seems to be thin air, crosses the hero's mind.

Taking a second to let the pain fade, he glances over to where the voice came from.

Standing perfectly still, as if having been there the entire time, is a hooded figure.

Dressed in floor-length black robes bearing a wide hood that hides all but the lower half of their face, the figure watches on silently as the hero slowly gathers himself.

The hero can't help the blood rushing to his face as his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Sparing a glance at the figure, he notices their full lips, painted black with lipstick, are set in an amused smile.

Quickly rising to his feet, the hero tries to ignore the feeling of their eyes on him seemingly observing his every movement, as if studying him.

Feeling his blush start to fade, the hero tries to peer deeper into the shadows of the hood, hoping to meet the figure's eyes. Unfortunately, the hood performs its task all too well, and nothing but shadows can be seen.

Giving up searching, he momentarily clears his throat before speaking up.

"Um…Hello."

"Hello, young hero." The figure responds, a slight tilt of the wide hood the only indication that it had bowed it's head in greeting.

With a start, he realizes that the figure's voice is that of a woman's. Her tone is surprisingly soft and comforting, like that of a dear friend.

Gazing at the newly identified woman, he can't help wondering how he could have missed that fact, finally noticing the subtle curves hidden beneath her robes. It takes a moment for his brain to finally process what the woman had said.

Blinking, he stops gazing over the woman's robed form to stare at the shadowed face once again. His confusion clear as day as he asks, "Sorry but, what do you mean by that? Why did you just call me a hero?"

Tilting her head, the woman stares silently from under her hood. Once again speaking in that soft, comforting tone she replies, "That is what you are. A young hero, about to take the first steps on his journey." Strangely, but he can't help feeling that her gaze became much more intense at that statement.

"What do you mean, my journey? I'm sorry, I'm not sure what's going on…or how I got here. But I think you have the wrong guy. I'm not a hero."

The hooded figure steps closer to him, placing herself within arm's reach. Momentarily, he's surprised to find that she's the same height as he is. The idle thought disappearing with her next words. "Do you recall your name?"

Staring at her, confused as to why she would ask such an obvious question, he replies. "Of course I do, I'm…"

His voice trails off as nothing comes to mind when trying to recall what his name is. The realization bringing with it a feeling of ice filling his veins.

As he starts to panic, his voice becomes more and more desperate. "I…I don't remember. Why can't I remember my name?"

The woman, as if sensing the hero's growing panic, brings her right hand up to his face. Drawing attention to her incredibly pale skin as her soft hand cups his cheek with a gentle touch that surprisingly soothes the panic beginning to cloud his thoughts. "You do not remember it, because you gave it up."

Not expecting that response, the casual statement does more to clear the last of his panic than any assurances she could have given. His brow crinkles in confusion.

"What do you mean, I gave it up?"

Silently, she brings her left hand up to join in cupping his face.

Upon making contact with his skin, his mind becomes flooded with flashes of memories as the she begins to speak.

"You were born the youngest child of a family of three. You had a father, a mother, and an elder sister."

Flashes of a smiling family appear in front of his eyes.

- Memory -

A tall, bearded man with greying-brown hair in a tailored suit. An equally tall, gorgeous woman with vibrant red hair done in a braid stands at his side, dressed in an elegant, form-fitting dress. Between the two stands a shorter, pretty young girl with equally vibrant red hair, dressed in a smaller, child's version of the woman's own dress.

The three of them stand close together, bright smiles on their faces. The sight conjuring the feeling of a truly happy, loving family.

- End of Memory -

"Unlike the rest of your family, you were born sick. An incurable illness that forced you to spend your days trapped in bed, never getting the chance to experience life outside your bedroom walls."

Flashes of an empty room replaces the family's image.

- Memory -

A spacious bedroom with a large window looking out over a backyard on one side, and a door leading to the hallway on the other. In the center, a bed surrounded in medical equipment.

- End of Memory -

"When you were eight, your parents gave you your first storybook."

- Memory -

The blurry image of a book appears.

- End of Memory -

"That first storybook, told the tale of a young hero. A boy, who suffered much on his journey, ultimately proved to be a worthy hero."

As she continues to speak, the blurred title on the book becomes clear.

Harry Potter

"That first storybook, inspired you to read other tales about similar heroes."

- Memory -

Flashes of hundreds of books, all of them filling multiple bookshelves that now line the bedroom until the walls can't be seen.

- End of Memory -

"And soon, a desire in you began to take shape. The desire, to rise above your illness, and become a hero like those you read about in the stories."

"By the time of your eighteenth birthday, your illness had finally run its course. In your last days, you asked that your organs be donated to those suffering, in the hopes that it might save their lives."

As the last word leaves her lips, a new memory appears as a scene plays out.

- Memory -

The family of three gathers around a hospital bed, crying as the young boy laying in it smiles brightly at them. His vibrant and energetic smile in complete contrast with his weak and frail body.

- End of Memory -

In an instant, the flashes stop as the memories fade. He feels the woman hands still cupping his face, and for some reason has no desire to ask her to remove them. Their presence a balm against the surge of emotions brought up by the memories.

"An act worthy of any hero. And for that, you were given a choice. To continue on to the afterlife and await your family, or give up your name and be given the chance to live a new life and eventually become a hero like those in your storybooks."

It's here that the bottom half of her face, still the only visible part, blooms into a radiant smile. "You didn't even hesitate. Your wish to become a hero, and the idea that there were others who could use your help, meant that you were more than willing to give up your name in return for the chance."

The happiness in her voice and the radiant smile eliciting a feeling of embarrassed pride, causing the hero's cheeks to warm.

Watching his reaction with that same radiant smile, she leans forward to kiss his forehead. Shocked at the surprising move, he sputters out, "W-What was that for?"

Leaning back, she rubs her thumbs over the now burning cheeks comfortingly. "That, was for all the struggles you suffered and still retaining a pure soul."

Her smile turns seductive as her thumbs cease their rubbing in order to firmly grip his face. "And this, is for being who you are." With that, she leans in once again for a kiss, only this time not her target slightly lower.

'Mmph'

The hero's eyes widen in shock as he feel her soft lips impact, gently moving them against his own. Her lips caressing softly, guiding him through the unfamiliar movements. The feel of her lips eventually goading a responding as his eyes drift shut, basking in the moment.

After some subtle encouraging, he decides to try something new. Bringing his arms up from laying limply at his sides, they slowly wrap around the woman and gently pull her against his body.

In response, she releases his face and brings her own arms up to wrap them around his neck. The movement finally knocking back her hood, unknowingly revealing her face for the first time as the two deepen the kiss.

For what feels like an age, the two spare no thought for anything else except the feeling of the other's lips.

Reluctantly, she pulls back from the kiss, the pair breathing heavily as they smile at each other.

It takes a moment for the hero to realize that her hood is down, and that her face can finally be seen. Her beauty momentarily stuns him.

Pitch black locks flowing down on both sides of a pale face, neatly framing a pair of thin eyebrows that rest atop eyes whose color is as dark as the Void; and seem to be staring straight into his very soul. Noticing how expressive they are, he seems to almost lose himself in their depths.

Making an almost physical effort to pull away from her eyes, he takes the chance to glance down at her thin, cute nose before coming to rest on her smiling, now slightly plump lips. Their subtle swelling a reminder of the intimate moment they just shared together.

Stunned at her beauty and still reeling from kiss they shared, the hero can't help revealing an embarrassing secret to her.

"I've…never actually kissed a girl before." He whispers softly, embarrassed at his inexperience.

Her smile grows wide, revealing her perfect white teeth; a sharp contrast against her black lipstick as she giggles, "I know, and I'm glad to be your first."

Running her hand through his hair, she simply smiles as she takes in his flushed features. At this point, he's not even sure if the blush is from the kiss, the embarrassment, or from how she's looking at him. Frankly, he couldn't care less, choosing to instead enjoy being on the receiving end of her affections.

Finally, after a long moment she speaks up, "I admit, I had no idea if you would take my offer. What you did, focusing on trying to save other children's lives while ignoring your own fate. And the bravery you displayed, putting on a smile and trying your best to ease the suffering of your family in such a difficult time…showed me that you truly are a hero."

His face slowly stretches into a smile as he pulls her against him, this time bringing her into a hug as he rests his cheek against her shoulder. "Thank you, it really means a lot to hear that."

Saying nothing, she rests her chin on his shoulder as she hugs back, her smile softening as she closes her eyes.

All too soon, the moment ends and they both let go of each other. With a start, he realizes something. "I'm sorry, here we are going through all of this and I don't even know your name."

Smirking, the woman takes a step back before reaching behind to bring her hood back up. With it in place, once more casting her face in shadows, she replies. "I wondered when you would get around to asking me that."

"I…am Death."

Blinking, the hero can't help but wonder if he misheard her.

"I'm sorry, did you just say your name is…Death?" Incredulity clear in his tone.

Death's smirk grows, as if finding his disbelief incredibly amusing. "I did."

Standing there stunned, his thoughts casting back to everything he's learned, before once again looking around at the impossible galaxy all around them. There's really only one response he can think of.

"Oh."

Soft laughter escapes her black lips, "Yes, 'Oh' indeed."

"Do not worry yourself Hero, you have nothing to fear from me. Many believe me some horrible creature, desiring nothing more than to take their lives and them away from their loved ones. All out of a desire for cruelty."

"What they do not realize, is that all things must end. Every story must come to a close."

"Not out of cruelty, but kindness. For when a story does not end, it's shine is lost, becoming dull and lifeless…and eventually, forgotten. Abandoned."

As much as he would like to disagree, the truth in her words is compelling.

Feeling his mouth begin to close, having opened in preparation to voice disagreement, he realizes that he can't think of anything to truly counter her words.

Seeing her knowing smile, the hero wonders if she had expected that exact reaction. Pausing a moment to see if she had more to say, he speaks up.

"So, what happens now?"

Spreading her arms out, as if making a grand reveal, Death replies. "Now Hero, you choose where your new story begins."

Seeing the look of confusion, she elaborates.

"It is as I said, you must now choose where your story begins. There are countless stories out there, waiting to be told. You merely need to choose one, and you'll begin the first step of your journey."

As he goes over the stories he remembers reading, his mind drifts back to earlier when Death gave him back flashes of his old memories. One memory in particular standing out.

The first storybook he was ever given. The story that inspired him to want to become a hero in the first place.

Harry Potter

Decision clear, the hero straightens up, staring into the shadows where he now knows her captivating black orbs hide.

Death silently watches, as if already knowing what the choice is, but waiting to hear him speak it.

"I choose Harry Potter."

The determination resounding in his voice surprises himself.

"So be it." Death speaks with an air of finality, and it's then that he realizes there's no turning back. "Your choice has been made."

"You will experience the hero's life as if your own. From the moment you arrive in your new body, your choices are yours to make…as are the consequences."

"Remember this, your choices will impact the outcome of the story. Do not expect things to always plan out how you think they will."

That makes all too much sense. While he had read the story of Harry Potter from cover to cover, that doesn't necessarily mean he wants to just follow in the main character's footsteps. Some of the things Harry made in the story bothered the hero. But if he's going to do things differently, then it stands to reason that the story would change as well.

"Is there anything I should know beforehand?" Wanting to make sure there are no hidden surprises waiting in store.

"You will be sent to the beginning of the story; at the moment he awakens. There, you will have the choice to follow the story or go your own path. As events unfold, I will appear from time to time and provide you with tasks I'd ask you to complete for me. One task in particular I'm certain you can guess."

Death pauses here, waiting for him to figure out what she means. It takes a moment, but truthfully there's one thing that stands out the most.

"You mean Voldemort."

Pleased, Death confirms, "Yes. His attempts to escape me through the creation of his soul fragments, these…Horcruxes…is something that I cannot abide by. No mortal can truly escape Death, and his attempts to do so are an insult. Therefore Hero, I give you your first task."

"Find Voldemort's Horcruxes. When they are in your possession, simply call out my name, and I will appear before you. I will then take the soul fragments into the afterlife, and leave you with the items to do with them as you will."

"Know that I will be watching, and shall only come at your calling when one of them is in your possession."

At her words, a bit of weight lifts off his shoulders, the hero knew that dealing with them on his own was going to be a daunting task.

"Do this for me, and for each soul fragment I take, I will grant you a gift."

Now that is nice to hear. "What kind of gifts?"

In response, Death steps back into his personal space, bringing her hand up to caress his cheek once again, the action now familiar and comforting. "Ones that will help you on your journey. The more difficult the task, the greater the rewards I'll give you."

Her voice takes on a hint of a warning tone. "Be warned, do not try to complete more than you are capable of undertaking in the hopes of receiving my gifts quicker. I do not wish to see you suffer or fail your journey out of a desire to please me."

Surprised, and inwardly pleased to hear how much this gorgeous woman cares for him that she is even warning to be careful, causes his heart to beat a little faster.

In lack of an adequate response, the hero decides to take this chance to lean in and place a light kiss on her lips.

The kiss is soft and short, lacking the passion of the previous one, but carrying with it a sense of heartfelt gratitude at her worry.

Pulling back, he can't help his smile at seeing the faint blush dusting Death's pale cheeks.

'She looks cute when she blushes.'

"I'll be careful, I wouldn't want to upset you. Not after everything you've done for me."

And isn't that an understatement. She gave him a second chance at life, and the opportunity to be a hero in his favorite story. What more could someone ask for?

"Good. But remember this. As you complete your journey, do not forget to live."

"Have fun, make friends, fall in love. Find yourself a lover, or two. Enjoy this second chance at life and live it to the fullest." When she said the 'or two' part, he worriedly notices the little smirking accompanying it.

Before he has time to ponder that thought, Death waves her hand to her left. A chilling black energy coats her hand as she effortlessly creates a tear out of thin air. Without a sound, the tear splits wide open, creating a portal.

Taking a second to get one last look at the endless galaxy surrounding him, the hero steps up to the portal.

Looking to the side, he commits as much of Death's appearance to memory as he can. Unsure how long it will be he sees her again.

Giving her one last smile, the hero steps into the portal.

Before crossing the portal's boundary he hears Death give one last farewell.

"See you soon, Hero."

- 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey -

Unlike when he woke up in the Void, there is no feeling of bliss or having had a restful sleep.

Quite the opposite, he wakes up to the feeling of his head pounding and back sore, from what must have been the worst sleep of his life. Groggily pulling himself up into a seated position, the hero slowly take in the surroundings.

The first thing he notices, is that wherever he is , it's incredibly cramped. The ceiling is low enough that he could touch it simply by raising his hand up, without even needing to get out of bed.

The second, is that the pounding he thought was in his head, was actually the sound of someone knocking loudly and repeatedly on the small door next to the bed.

Mercifully, the pounding stops after a few words are shouted. Unfortunately for whoever was shouting, his brain was still slowly waking up and had missed everything they had said.

It takes his brain a second to remember where he is, and the events leading up to it.

Memories of the time in the Void, the conversations with Death, and the kisses they shared with flood his mind. The memories of the kisses in particular bring a familiar heat to his face as he sits in disbelief.

'I can't believe that all of that actually happened.'

And yet, the undeniable proof of it is right in front of his face.

Or to be more specific, on his face.

For he is now in the body of one Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

The pounding starts up again, this time from above him as someone jumps up and down; raining dust all around the cramped room like falling snow. Trying to ignore it as best he could, focusing more on trying to recall everything from the Harry Potter series.

'If I remember correctly, this is the day when Harry…or…I guess 'Me', unknowingly finds out he's a Parseltongue, and winds up in trouble after doing a bit of Accidental Magic.'

As Harry tries to recall what is supposed to happen, he hears the person jumping above start shouting. "WAKE UP Potter! We're going to the zoo!"

The shout is followed by the sound of someone loudly stomping their way down the flight of stairs as he slowly gets out of bed.

Opening the small door of Harry's 'bedroom', he can't help the disgust at seeing it truly is nothing more than a cupboard under the stairs.

Staring at the small space, he barely has time to react before a large boy appears from the stairs. His red face and labored breathing testament to his poor diet and lack of exercise as he pants.

Shoving Harry back roughly onto his small cot, the large boy quickly slams the door shut. Momentarily stunned, Harry hears his loud footsteps as the boy heads into the other room.

Through the door, a woman's voice reacts to the his presence. "Oh, here he comes! The Birthday Boy!"

'I forgot about that.'

It still comes as the shock that the Dursleys could be so remorseless in their treatment of someone who is considered 'family'. The few memories he had of his previous life shows that, for all of the struggles his illness put on his old family, they still loved him wholeheartedly.

The differences between the Dursleys and his old family bring to mind a quote from one of his storybooks.

'To judge a person's true character, look not at how they treat those above them, but at how they treat those below them.'

For all of the Dursleys belief in their 'normality' and the idea that they are good, decent folk, the way they treat Harry proves otherwise.

*Sigh* 'No point in sitting here getting philosophical. Time to face the music.'

Getting back up out of his cot, Harry steps out of the small cupboard and into the kitchen. Already dreading how this day is going to go.

- Kitchen -

Inside the spotless kitchen of 4 Privet Drive, a family of three can be seen joyously celebrating the birthday of the youngest among them.

The happiness on Vernon and Petunia's faces outshone by the joy of their only son Dudley as they smother him in hugs and congratulations. The feeling of celebration in the kitchen bringing a smile to anyone who witnesses the happy family.

With the sound of the kitchen door opening, that feeling of cheer that had filled the room quickly becomes muted. Caused by the mere presence of the fourth member of the household.

Walking through the door is a small, messy black-haired child. Dressed in oversized clothes that practically drape over his much too thin frame. His glasses, slightly crooked on his nose from all of the tape used to hold it together in its damaged state. All together painting a picture of what most would mistake as an orphaned, homeless child.

Harry's appearance, unfortunately, is not by accident. To try and reinforce the idea that Harry is lesser than them, and that he should be grateful for everything they give him, the Dursleys always ensure that the only things he has to wear are Dudley's old, worn clothes that are far too big for his frame.

Thankfully, for all of their emotional abuse, the Dursleys have never been physically abusive to Harry. The only times they had ever physically harmed him had been when Vernon smacked him on the back of the head hard enough to send him to the floor, after Harry had accidentally broken a plate.

Or when Petunia hit him in the head with an iron skillet after he nearly set the kitchen on fire, by accident, the first time they had forced him to cook for them.

He couldn't help but reflect on the previous Harry's suffering, 'For all of the horrible things he was forced to go through, it's a wonder that Harry had turned out as good of a person as he did.'

Thankfully, the new Harry had access to memories of a happier life, with a much better family, to think back on.

His ruminations were quickly cut short by the shrill voice of his Aunt.

"Why don't you just cook the breakfast, and try not to burn anything." The annoyance in her voice matched by the looks of the other two as Harry slowly shuffles his way past them to the stove, Petunia's abnormally long neck twisting to follow him.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." The response comes out almost subconsciously as Harry's body moved about the kitchen with practiced movements brought on by muscle memory.

'It's a good thing too, because I have no idea what I'm doing.'

And it's true. Because of his illness, Harry never had to cook in his past life. His frail body had been too weak to move around the kitchen, or even lift the pans and utensils.

In no time at all, Harry found himself plating the food and placing them onto the kitchen table.

It seemed however, that he was moving far too slow for his Uncle's liking. "Hurry up! Bring my coffee, boy."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Again, the response coming automatically.

As Harry quickly grabs the coffee, Petunia and Dudley walk towards the living room where a mountain of presents resides. Enough piled into the room to make it difficult to see the floor.

The obnoxious voice of his cousin pipes up from the living room, "How many are there?"

As Harry pours his Uncle a fresh cup of coffee, he listens as Vernon speaks up. "Thirty-Six. Counted them myself."

At the number, Dudley's face turns red in anger as he bellows, "Thirty-Six! But last year I had Thirty-Seven!"

The disgust on Harry's face at Dudley's spoilt tone thankfully goes unnoticed as his Uncle struggles to come up with a response to calm Dudley down. "W-Well yes, but some of them are quite a bit bigger than last year."

Unfortunately for Vernon, Dudley's anger is backed by a lifetime of spoilt upbringing, meaning he isn't so easy to calm. "I don't care how big they are!"

Petunia quickly rushes to kneel in front of her son. Turning his attention onto her, she speaks up. "N-Now, this is what we're going to do. When we go out, we're going to buy you two new presents! How's that Pumpkin?"

Dudley's face scrunches up in thought, "So that would mean I'd have, th-thirty…um. Thirtyyy-"

"Thirty-Eight, sweetums." Encourages Petunia, relieved at seeing Dudley start to calm.

Dudley's eyes widen, "That's more than Thirty-Seven!"

His cheer at realizing this fact quickly settles the mood of the house.

Uncle Vernon chuckles at Dudley's actions. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father!" Reaching a large, meaty hand across the table, he ruffles Dudley's hair.

The three settled down after that to eat breakfast while making comments on their preparations for their trip to the zoo. Dudley's desperate attempts at convincing his parents to not take Harry with them sadly fall on deaf ears. "But I don't want him to come! He spoils everything!"

As much as they all wish to leave Harry behind, there was simply no one in the neighborhood available to watch him. The neighbor that usually did, an elderly woman with a far too many cats and a tendency to rattle on all day about them, Mrs. Figg, had recently broken her leg and was too busy resting to watch over him.

The thought of leaving Harry alone in their house an idea too horrifying to even utter.

As the family continued to voice their disappointment at Harry's presence over breakfast, Harry silently continued refilling drinks and bringing them more food from the stove. A daunting and laborious task as Vernon and Dudley's sheer size testament to their ability to consume an absurd amount of food.

Mercifully, Dudley's excitement over the Zoo meant that the three finished their breakfast quickly; leaving the kitchen in a rush to get ready for their trip.

As they leave, Harry quickly rushes to put their plates in the sink to wash later, before silently sitting down at the now empty kitchen table to eat his small portion of food. The most that the Dursleys allow him to have.

Once he's finished with his meager breakfast, Harry quickly returns to his cupboard and changes into a set of Dudley's massive old clothes. His stretched, baggy shirt can thankfully be tucked into a pair of oversized pants. The pants are then held up by a worn belt with a few extra holes hand-made to fit his much smaller waist. To try and cover the clothes, Harry grabs a dark flannel shirt that thankfully was not as ridiculously oversized and would hopefully not draw attention to himself.

As the Dursleys trample down the stairs, each step creaking under the weight, Harry rushes to try and smooth out his messy hair before racing out the cupboard after them.

As Petunia and Dudley climb into the painstakingly clean car (a chore that Harry has to do once a week, ever week), Vernon shuts the open car door before Harry can get in.

Getting in Harry's face, Vernon's massive size casting a vast shadow over his much smaller frame, Vernon gets close enough for Harry to feel his revolting labored breath wafting over his skin.

As Harry tries to subtly lean away from him, Vernon pokes Harry roughly in the chest, "I'm warning you now boy…" The way Vernon says 'boy' makes him think that what Vernon wanted to say was 'freak', but being outside and fearful of their neighbors overhearing, he holds himself back.

"Any…funny business, any at all…and you won't have any meals, for a week." What he means by 'funny business' goes unsaid, but the message clear.

His threat made, Vernon points a massive sausage-like finger towards the car and demands, "Get in."

- Time Skip: 1 Hour Later -

As Vernon parks the car and the four of them get out, Harry can't help but think back to the threat made by his 'Uncle'.

'Threatening to starve a helpless child in order to get your way. What kind of person thinks like that?'

It's one thing to read in storybooks about how cruel some people can be, but seeing it and experiencing it first hand for yourself is something else entirely.

Harry's thoughts on the subject trails off as they enter the Zoo.

For the next several hours, the Dursleys explore the Zoo with Harry following several feet behind, wanting to keep as much distance as possible so as to not incur any more threats.

It's when they reach the Reptile section of the Zoo that Harry's focus is brought back to the present, having let his mind wander as he followed his 'family' toward the building marked Reptile Habitat.

'Best not to do anything that can get noticed, like making a whole glass pane disappear and release a massive snake. I need to try and stay far away from the snakes.'

Unfortunately, upon entering the building it becomes very clear that such a thing is easier said than done.

The reason being?

His Parseltongue ability is picking up the voices of every snake near him. And as the Dursleys walk up to each enclosure, loudly pounding on the glass panes to try and force the snakes to move, the snakes' voices become harder to ignore as they get louder in their complaints.

"~Ssstupid humansss. Asss if thisss one would lisssten to it.~"

"~Sssilence! Thisss one isss trying to sssleep.~"

"~Sssstop it'sss pounding, Fat Human!~"

The constant hissing of the snakes complaining, combined with the general ruckus of all of the people walking around, and the obnoxious shouting from the Dursleys causes a massive headache.

Panicking to escape the noise, Harry quickly rushes out the nearest door of the Reptile Habitat.

Once outside, Harry begins desperately rubbing at his temples, hoping to relieve some of the pain.

As his headache mercifully begins to fade, Harry feels something wet dripping down his forehead. Rubbing the back of his hand across his forehead, Harry quickly pulls it back to see what it was, only to look on momentarily stunned at the blood smeared across it.

With a start, Harry remembers an important fact from the storybook he had nearly forgotten. 'That's right! Later in the story you find out that Harry's scar contains a Horcrux.'

'I need to wait for a moment when I'm alone; preferably in a place where someone won't walk in on me, if I want to call Death and have her take care of it.'

Quickly rubbing the blood off onto his oversized flannel, hoping that it's dark pattern will hide the blood, Harry looks around to make sure no one noticed. As he does, he spots the Dursleys making their way out of the Habitat.

Thankfully it seems, nothing 'funny' had happened in his absence. Sparing him from being locked in the cupboard without food.

Walking back towards the Dursleys, Vernon's face fills with annoyance after spotting him approach. "We're leaving boy. Dudley's grown bored of this place and wants to home and open his presents. If you run off again, we'll leave you here."

Nodding wordlessly, Harry follows them back to the car, not at all surprised that Dudley would grow bored. 'He has the attention span of a fish; I'm surprised he lasted this long.'

Back in the car, Harry is forced to listen to Dudley brag on about how many presents he has to play with when they get back. Hoping for a distraction, he turns to look out the car window.

'I hope the Hogwarts letter gets here soon. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.'

- Time Skip: 2 Weeks Later -

A hot summer morning sees a sweating Harry standing in the driveway of 4 Privet Drive, washing Vernon's car by himself as the Dursleys relax inside. The last two weeks had thankfully been relatively peaceful. No accidental magic had happened, and Harry had learned how to stay out of the way of his 'family' while going about completing his chores.

One thing he discovered while living under the Dursley's 'care'; was that if he tried to finish the chores quickly, Petunia would always find some new chore for him to do. That fact led to him slowing down and taking his time in completing them, for a long as he could resonably get away with. Including moments like now as he's washing the car.

'Technically, the car has been clean for the last 10 minutes and I'm just spraying it with water to waste time. But! As long as it looks like I'm still washing it, I can have a few more minutes to myself.'

Peace and quiet, Harry had learned, was a luxury at the Dursleys. Between Dudley's childish tantrums and Vernon's loud commentary while watching television or discussing his work, it became clear that Harry would not find any peace or quiet while he's inside the house.

As he continues mindlessly spraying the hose at the car, Harry notices something moving out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, Harry spots an owl sitting on the roof of the house, seemingly watching him.

Realizing what this could mean, he finishes drying the car before racing to the mail.

Sure enough, after sifting through the pile of mail, he finds a thick envelop different from the others.

Taking a moment to feel the thick parchment before focusing on writing on the front, Harry can't help the smile that begins to stretch across his face as he reads the elegant writing.

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

- END -

Author Notes:

Since everyone apparently hated the Second Person perspective, I've rewritten the first chapter.

This is actually the first story I've ever written, so I'm going to make a few mistakes, including (apparently) picking the worst point of view to use.

That said! If you have any ideas or opinions on my story, I'd love some feedback.

Hope you all are liking it so far! Thanks for checking out my story.