Harry Potter was a boy of many titles.
The first was son, which he lost just as he gained his second title; The Boy Who Lived.
But he didn't learn about that until he turned eleven.
No the titles that he grew up knowing about were The Future Boy and The Boy Who Changed Everything.
He got those titles because at the age of six the government had got a hold of him.
It started with simple research; they learnt everything they could about him and continue to do so to this day causing medical breakthrough after medical breakthrough. Next they had to adapt and advance their technology as no matter how advanced, the technology broke down after too long exposed to Harry. Through this they ended up making a computer so advanced that it could not be hacked by even the best hackers.
Now the world looked much different than it had just a few years before with multiple cures for nearly ever minor ailment soon to be on store shelves and with advanced ailments being studied in depth.
Now everyone carried a mobile phone and laptop, both of which were more advanced than anything they could have dreamt of before.
And still they were not satisfied, they would not be satisfied until they'd wrung every bit of knowledge that they could out of him. Even then his life as a government employee wouldn't end.
For now his only job, other than letting himself be studied, was to learn. They'd taught him well into the A Level materials and now it was time to study magic, he'd pick up the rest again after he graduated. They'd been upset to learn that the Ministry could monitor underage wanded magic which pushed back their plans by nearly seven years.
To satisfy their desire to learn they had gone on a book spending spree the likes of which Diagon Alley had never seen, using Harry as the go between. He was already being called The Biggest Ravenclaw. It had made the news.
It was through that book spending spree that he learnt about the title The Boy Who Lived. It was rather hard to believe. It wasn't that he was famous, he was rather well known in the right circles after all. It wasn't even that he was special as that had been ground into his head from age six. Instead it was that he, as an infant, had somehow killed someone. The tale seemed rather fantastical.
Then again, he was entering a fantastical world.
One that the Prime Minister hated. One that they planned to destroy with all of their research.
As Harry hurried through the Platform 9 and 3/4 he wondered about that. As he pretended to say goodbye to Terrance and Jennifer as if he hadn't already said goodbye back at the lab he realized that he did not feel the hatred the Minister felt. He'd been subject to several of the Prime Minister's rants on the subject, both in person and over video chat, but having been exposed to the magical world now he mostly felt… pity.
The world was small, tiny even. With less than a million in all of the UK the Wizarding World was massively dwarfed by the nonmagical world. It showed too, in their shopping center which could fit in two streets and not feel crowded. Here too, all of the country's magical children fit in this train platform.
No he didn't hate this small, backwards, stagnating country. That didn't mean he wouldn't help the people who had rescued him from hell, even if they had done it just to get back at this tiny world.
His goodbyes said he climbed aboard the train and sat in the first empty compartment he found and pulled out a book on Mandarin Chinese. He already knew French and Latin, so he'd chosen Mandarin Chinese as the next language he would learn. Ideally he would know the five most popular languages in the world by the time he graduated. In practice Mandarin Chinese was giving him a migraine and he'd just started. Maybe he should have done Spanish instead of jumping into the deep end.
He was interrupted multiple times by various people but, having been raised almost exclusively around adults he found himself clamming up around children, so he shooed them all away. His luck ran out when two third years, who were almost late to the train, declared that there was no more room anywhere else on the train and he'd just have to deal with it. The redheads were joined by a boy with dreads and the three spent much time fawning over a spider and what mischief they could get up to with it. It was easy enough to ignore them in favor of his migraine inducing work.
The time passed quickly with his work consuming him until suddenly it was dark and the third years were getting dressed, so he followed their lead.
He had to admit, if only to himself, that the view of Hogwarts from the boats on the lake was beautiful.
As they were waiting in the antechamber to be sorted he was approached by a blond who had two hulking brunettes on either side of him, "So…" the boy drawled, "The Biggest Ravenclaw. Welcome to Hogwarts, I can help you make the right sort of friends."
Before Harry could think of a response there were several screams. Harry whirled around to find several ghosts floating above them and holding a conversation, seemingly not noticing them. Slowly he allowed his breathing to calm back down just in time for Professor McGonagall to come back and lead them into the Great Hall.
He couldn't help but feel skeptical when he realized a hat would be sorting them. A hat.
Still, when it was his turn he dutifully sat on the stool and allowed the hat to be lowered onto his head.
Ah, another skeptic eh? Well time will take care of that! Now, where to put you…
He'd been expecting Ravenclaw, like everyone else so when the hat whispered to him, Could be Slytherin, his stomach dropped and he rapidly shook his head. He'd read all of Hogwarts, a History and plenty of books besides and it was clear that everyone hated Slytherins. But you could be great you know! You've got such ambitions… The hat trailed off for a minute, then said, sounding sad, Such terrible ambitions…
Not Slytherin! He thought back urgently. The hat was quiet for a moment before saying Not Slytherin, eh? Better be "GRYFFINDOR!" The last was shouted and Harry almost collapsed in relief.
As Harry sat in his room, hidden behind curtains in his four poster bed, typing up his report of the day, a meeting, of sorts, was going on in the Headmaster's office.
"I have something that I need to tell you."
Albus looked at the hat in shock, "I thought you couldn't tell me anything about the sorting ceremony."
The hat paused, looking as unhappy as it was possible for a hat to look, "You're right, I can't. But not telling you puts far more people in danger than telling you."
Albus considered that, wondering what could rattle the hat to try to undo a century's old rule. If he gave the hat permission it probably wouldn't cause the magic of the hat to unravel, but could he set that kind of precedence?
"Come on, old man. Its important!"
What could be so important in an eleven year old's mind that the hat was this urgent? As he turned it over in his mind the portraits shouted their own arguments on the matter. Most agreed with his instincts, that it was a bad idea. Phineas Nigellus Black was one notable exception and he had a gleam in his eyes as he tried to convince him. It was ultimately that which decided him.
"I can not give you permission," he said solemnly causing the hat to slump.
"You'll regret this. I swear you will."
The words sent a chill down his spine and for a moment he almost went back on the decision.
The office was quiet now, all the portraits watching them.
After some consideration he said, "There's only one student I can think of that would have generated this kind of reaction."
The hat leant forward, staring at him intently.
"Something to do with Mr. Potter."
The hat relaxed back onto it's shelf, seemingly pleased that he'd gotten something of his warning.
With the centuries old rule now circumvented, as best as it could be anyways, Albus settled back into his own chair, making plans and trying to figure out just what could have scared the hat so badly.