A/N

I have a lot planned for this story. Unlike Mind Cager, this story does revolve around Hogwarts and will use certain 'milestones' from the main books to move the story along. Like many stories on here, there will be a massive divergence from cannon starting fourth year. But, the divide will begin in third year. Enjoy!

End A/N

If you asked Harry Potter how his life was, he would most likely tell you it was grand - just to get you to drop the topic. Deep down he hated that he lost his mother on Halloween of 2001. He was only a year and half at the time but still clung to a couple memories that seemed to be ingrained in his mind. His father, James Potter, threw himself into his work as an auror following his wife's death. James didn't blame his son for Voldemort coming for them but on some level did blame him. His son's birth brought more problems and challenges than what he signed up for. He tried to raise his son the best he could but was unable to shower the boy with proper love and emotional care. The relationship between the two had always been transactional.

The majority of his childhood was spent by himself but under the watchful eyes of the Potter family house elves. Harry came to view the elves, Alex and Maria, as more loving and capable parental figures. He explored the vast grounds of Potter Manor as a child and at one point discovered a den that used to be home to centaurs. Harry never forgot the one-sided conversation with his father that really framed just what kind of person James Potter was.

_

"Father, I went exploring the property today."

"Hmmm? Oh, that's great," James said absently as he looked over paperwork inside his office.

"I found a cave."

"Oh? Sounds fascinating…" came his father's dry reply.

"There were drawings on the walls! Footprints in the ground that looked old but not like the ones my feet leave…"

"Those beasts no longer call our property home," James snarled, cutting off his son's enthusiastic tellings. "Anything short of a wizard is a disgrace to our kind and magic! You would count yourself lucky to be a Muggle instead of anything with tainted blood! Beasts, half-breeds, dark bloods - any of those would be worse than living without magic," James' voice became a whisper. "While magic has been gifted to all of these things in some capacity, they are still abominations and you would do well to forget you ever saw that cave." Lord Potter's hard stare holding Harry in place until he responded with a nod.

"Yes, father. I will not return to that place again," Harry whispered as a scolded child does.

"Good… now leave me. I have much to do," James dismissed the eight year old with an absent wave of his hand, not breaking eye contact with the folders on his desk.

Harry jumped at the chance to go to Hogwarts when his letter of acceptance arrived. He wasn't thrilled with being around Albus Dumbledore - the school's Headmaster. The older he became, the more he noticed the Headmaster and his father meeting frequently inside their manor. These meetings would go to all hours of the morning but Harry was never able to get any clues as to what was discussed in secret.

The train ride to Hogwarts was uneventful for the future Lord Potter. Children knew of him but none knew him. The current Lord Potter never took his son with him when he left the property. Harry never had socializing with those his age - his father and both house elves were his social interaction in total. Alex had taken him to get his supplies for Hogwarts shorty after he received his letter. James was out of Europe for business, therefore Harry's fanfare in response to his acceptance letter fell on the deaf ears of the manor. The day before Harry was to leave for Hogwarts, his father was called away to an ICW meeting in Iceland. He had Maria apparate him to Platform 9 3/4 and found his way onto the train at 9:30am - well before any other children would be arriving.

Upon placing his trunk on the seat across from him, he cast a wandless locking charm on the compartment door. A result of his copious time alone, exposure to house elves, and a penchant for keeping himself busy - Harry turned accidental magic to intentional wandless magic as he grew older. Alex and Maria gave him many lessons on intent, creativity, will, and emotions when it came to magic. James' attention - never being on Harry - did not pick up on the fact that his son was accomplishing small feats of wandless magic. Locking and unlocking charms, lumos and nox charms, summoning and banishing charms, stinging hexes, and an affinity for fire elemental magic.

Harry's first contact with his father in months happened shortly after being sorted into Slytherin. Three days after the sorting - he was having breakfast at the end of the Slytherin table when the morning mail was delivered. A tawny owl dropped a red envelope in front of him. Students in his vicinity moved away knowing that the howler would likely go off since the young heir had no intention of opening it. The howler ranted for five minutes, in James' voice, about how he was disappointed, embarrassed, Harry was no son of his, and anything else that came to mind at the time the howler was created. The whole time, Harry sat there, an emotionless husk, continuing to eat breakfast while staring at the table. The only positive thing to come out of this - it was the first time his father showed him true and pure emotion in years.

Christmas came and went - just like the other twelve - without presents or anyone wishing him a Merry Christmas. This was the first time Harry saw how others celebrated Christmas - the festivities, gifts, joy, food and drink, and time spent together. For the first time in thirteen years, Harry felt anger and jealousy.

On Valentine's Day, Harry was roaming that castle when the staircase stopped on the third floor. Knowing that it was off limits, Harry sat down on the steps and waiting for staircase to move. It was until his head of house came by an hours later and all but shouted at him when he told Professor Snape that the staircase had not moved in an hours time. Dumbledore was summoned and was able to move the stairs to allow Harry to head back to the dungeons. As Harry passed the staff members he did not miss the look of disappointment on Albus Dumbledore's face. Harry had no want or need to be roaming as he found that many classrooms or closets were taken by couples looking to get some alone time. He felt a pang in his chest for the third time this school year. The first being Halloween and second being Christmas. He wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl.

The end of his first year saw him at the top of the list of first years. Harry saw O's in every subject - much the dismay of some of his classmates: Daphne Greengrass, Hermione Granger, Terry Boot, Draco Malfoy, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-something or another, and Hannah Abbot.

The ride back to King's Cross was the same as the first trip - sitting in silence. Only this time Harry was reading some advanced charms books and working on his fire elemental magic. His goal was to create ten balls of fire, each a different color, with his hand and have them orbit his head while he continued to read his charms books. By the time the train pulled in to the station he was able to manage four balls of fire.

Harry's summer was better than any other previously. His father was away most of it and this allowed him to practice all the magic he wanted. Harry put additional time in at the dueling room in the manor's dungeons. He made an effort to use become proficient in using the wand since not every spell could be casted wandlessly as his skill level. While he preferred to do as much wandlessly as he could, Harry did put effort into maintaining the wand. Twice a week he would grab the wand polish and a special cloth to clean it. Each time he clean and polished the wand he would take the time to appreciate just how special of one he had.

The wand was blood bed in color, Redheart - from Central America. The main body was three 'branches' of redheart that were twisted around each other. The core was the heart string of a thestral - rare because usually it is hair used instead. The grip was of the same wood piece and continued where the twisting 'branches' stopped and made a solid grip. The wand accepted him but he was reluctant to accept the wand.