Author's note: This is my first fic, and I would like to have
some reviews to help me improve it. Just to clarify, this is one
of those Harry superhero fics, where he becomes really powerful
and all the girls love him. Also this is planned to be
Harry/Ginny, and Ron/Hermione. Sorry if it isn't your flavour.
This chapter is going to be nothing more than a background
chapter, I'll start the good stuff soon enough. Happy reading!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related material belong to J.K. Rowling, although I wish it belonged to me.
Harry Potter and the Beginning of War Chapter 1 When it begins.
If one was to look into Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, tonight, one would see a huge whale of a man asleep in bed with a horse like woman, a somewhat smaller whale of a teenager passed out in his room, and a slightly built, unkempt looking young man with a haunted look in his eyes furiously scratching away at an old piece of paper. Now you would think that everyone would be asleep at 3.00 am, but no, Harry Potter had to be awake, another reason for the rest of the house, if they knew, to shun him even more.
Harry Potter is no ordinary teenager, but you have guessed that just by looking. What kind of person writes with a feather? Or on old paper? Or even at three in the morning during the summer holidays? But then, as you can see, he isn't ordinary. In fact he's far from it, which is why his family, not that he'd call them that, treats him the way they do. He can do magic. Harry Potter is a wizard, perhaps the most famous one in the world at that. As Hagrid, his half giant friend, currently the groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor at his school, Hogwarts, he was a "thumpin' good un, once he got trained up a bit". His family, for lack of a better word, despised him because he was a freak, as they put it, although he never really understood why his aunt, the horse like woman, hated him so much. After all, his mother was her sister, and a witch at that, but then, right now he was too busy to care.
As far as Harry was concerned, he had to study. He had already finished his homework a few weeks before, but now he was trying to expand his knowledge as far as humanly possible, because as things stood right now, he needed to. On Harry's forehead, right in the middle,running from his hairline for an inch and a half, was a lightening shaped scar. It was thanks to the killing curse being sent at him when he was one year old by the most evil wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort. The only thing that saved him at that time was the fact that his parents died trying to save him, and his mother's death gave him protection from Voldemort. Because of her love and sacrifice, the killing curse rebounded on the Dark Lord and left him without a physical form for thirteen years, allowing Harry to escape, and in effect, become the hero of the wizarding world. His school's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard who could scare Tom Riddle (as Dumbledore remembered Voldemort's true name to be), left him in the care of his aunt, under protective spells that needed his mother's family to work. The aged wizard knew that one day Harry would have to save the world again. It was due to a prophecy of Harry, one of the few real prophecies cast by the current Divination teacher in Hogwarts, Sybill Trelawney, which made him the target of Voldemort. Harry was meant to kill Voldemort, or die trying, and the only way that either Harry could live, is if the other one dies.
But poor Harry, because he was meant to be a hero, he had to undergo a horrible childhood, without love, respect or even the barest knowledge of his past, because his guardians took it upon themselves to force the magic out of him. In fact he lived in a cupboard under the stairs for the first ten years if his stay at Privet Drive, with nothing but overly large hand- me-downs from his cousin Dudley as clothes, and no one but spiders as friends. He had often gone hungry, and had cried himself to sleep more nights than he could remember. He was happy when he found out he was a wizard, but that was pretty much all he had to give thanks for, besides his few friends at school, because from that point on, he was marked for death by no one less than Voldemort himself, who tried to kill him in his first, second, fourth, and fifth year. But it was the last two years that took the worst toll, he saw a fellow student die simply for being there when Harry himself was taken to resurrect Voldemort's body (he had the scar on his arm to prove it), and last year, just two months ago, he saw his only real family, his godfather, Sirius Black, die in front of him, trying to rescue him.
That is what galvanised Harry into action this summer, because on that fateful night two months ago, he was fooled by Voldemort and lured into the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic, carrying with him five other students, who almost died in the attempt to escape the trap. And as Harry saw it, it was entirely his fault, because he didn't practice Occlumency hard enough (a magical form of mind protection, preventing people from reading your mind), because of a petty hatred of the teacher, and because he wasn't wise enough to know he was being used. It tore him apart when the year ended, but after he saw the trust and love that the Order of the Phoenix had for him, when they threatened his guardians to take good care of him, he vowed to live up to his destiny, and make the bastard who was set destroying everything he held dear pay. And thus he started.
He had owled Remus Lupin, a werewolf, the last best friend of his parents, for all the books on all types of magic he had. Needless to say, Remus was surprised, but had no reluctance in filling Harry's request. So now he was writing two things, a thank you note to Remus, and comforting him, because his best friend was Sirius, and Harry knew that the werewolf must be grieving even more than he was, and this fortified his conviction as he was writing.
"I must defeat this bastard" Harry growled under his breath. His bright emerald eyes were filled with quiet fury as he continued to scribble away. "I hope Moony is okay, I really need him to be. We will take down Voldemort, and have revenge on him for what he did to all of us. There,"
He muttered as he signed the parchment and rolled it up. He called his beautiful white owl, Hedwig, from her perch in the corner of his book littered room, "Hedwig, deliver this to Remus, and come back as soon as possible, I need you for a special delivery".
Hedwig softly hooted her understanding and gave Harry a loving look as he tied the letter to her foot. She immediately took off through his open window as soon as he was done, looking back only once to see if her master was okay, and seeing that he had immediately started his second letter, she flew off into the cold night air to complete her little mission.
Harry had started to write a letter to Albus, asking him to help teach him occlumency, when an owl sped through his window. It was a light dun colour, with a very hyperactive personality. It looked a lot like Pig, his best friend Ron's owl, but just a bit larger.
"Hey girl, hold on, you don't need to be all haywire over it!" Harry laughed as the owl flew into his perpetually messy hair. "Just give me the parchment, and keep still, for heaven's sake!" And just as he said this, this owl stopped right on top of his head, causing Harry to smile as he looked in the mirror.
"I look like Neville's gran like this. Maybe I ought to keep this look; it might cause the death eaters to die from laughter. Maybe not" as the bird hopped into his palm and began to hoot loudly.
"Okay, okay already! You aren't by chance related to the Ron's owl Pigwidgeon, are you?" he asked the little noisemaker. At this question this owl stopped moving and glanced at Harry with a murderous look, causing Harry to laugh again. "Merlin, even owls think Pig is nutters!" he soliloquized as he took the letter from the clearly miffed owl and fed it some owl treats trying to placate it. "Please don't be angry with me, I was just joking. I think you are a very nice owl" he whispered. The owl just looked at him and flew off, clearly not appeased with the apology.
Harry looked at the owl flying away and glanced at the parchment in his hand. "Hold on a sec," he stuttered, as he recognised the flowing script on the letter. "Why would Michael Corner owl me? I hope Ginny's not in trouble." he murmured as he unfurled the parchment.
"To Harry Potter" he read. But that night wasn't about to give him any answers, because at that moment his scar started to pulse with pain, the world turned white and Harry fell to the floor unconscious.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related material belong to J.K. Rowling, although I wish it belonged to me.
Harry Potter and the Beginning of War Chapter 1 When it begins.
If one was to look into Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, tonight, one would see a huge whale of a man asleep in bed with a horse like woman, a somewhat smaller whale of a teenager passed out in his room, and a slightly built, unkempt looking young man with a haunted look in his eyes furiously scratching away at an old piece of paper. Now you would think that everyone would be asleep at 3.00 am, but no, Harry Potter had to be awake, another reason for the rest of the house, if they knew, to shun him even more.
Harry Potter is no ordinary teenager, but you have guessed that just by looking. What kind of person writes with a feather? Or on old paper? Or even at three in the morning during the summer holidays? But then, as you can see, he isn't ordinary. In fact he's far from it, which is why his family, not that he'd call them that, treats him the way they do. He can do magic. Harry Potter is a wizard, perhaps the most famous one in the world at that. As Hagrid, his half giant friend, currently the groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor at his school, Hogwarts, he was a "thumpin' good un, once he got trained up a bit". His family, for lack of a better word, despised him because he was a freak, as they put it, although he never really understood why his aunt, the horse like woman, hated him so much. After all, his mother was her sister, and a witch at that, but then, right now he was too busy to care.
As far as Harry was concerned, he had to study. He had already finished his homework a few weeks before, but now he was trying to expand his knowledge as far as humanly possible, because as things stood right now, he needed to. On Harry's forehead, right in the middle,running from his hairline for an inch and a half, was a lightening shaped scar. It was thanks to the killing curse being sent at him when he was one year old by the most evil wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort. The only thing that saved him at that time was the fact that his parents died trying to save him, and his mother's death gave him protection from Voldemort. Because of her love and sacrifice, the killing curse rebounded on the Dark Lord and left him without a physical form for thirteen years, allowing Harry to escape, and in effect, become the hero of the wizarding world. His school's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard who could scare Tom Riddle (as Dumbledore remembered Voldemort's true name to be), left him in the care of his aunt, under protective spells that needed his mother's family to work. The aged wizard knew that one day Harry would have to save the world again. It was due to a prophecy of Harry, one of the few real prophecies cast by the current Divination teacher in Hogwarts, Sybill Trelawney, which made him the target of Voldemort. Harry was meant to kill Voldemort, or die trying, and the only way that either Harry could live, is if the other one dies.
But poor Harry, because he was meant to be a hero, he had to undergo a horrible childhood, without love, respect or even the barest knowledge of his past, because his guardians took it upon themselves to force the magic out of him. In fact he lived in a cupboard under the stairs for the first ten years if his stay at Privet Drive, with nothing but overly large hand- me-downs from his cousin Dudley as clothes, and no one but spiders as friends. He had often gone hungry, and had cried himself to sleep more nights than he could remember. He was happy when he found out he was a wizard, but that was pretty much all he had to give thanks for, besides his few friends at school, because from that point on, he was marked for death by no one less than Voldemort himself, who tried to kill him in his first, second, fourth, and fifth year. But it was the last two years that took the worst toll, he saw a fellow student die simply for being there when Harry himself was taken to resurrect Voldemort's body (he had the scar on his arm to prove it), and last year, just two months ago, he saw his only real family, his godfather, Sirius Black, die in front of him, trying to rescue him.
That is what galvanised Harry into action this summer, because on that fateful night two months ago, he was fooled by Voldemort and lured into the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic, carrying with him five other students, who almost died in the attempt to escape the trap. And as Harry saw it, it was entirely his fault, because he didn't practice Occlumency hard enough (a magical form of mind protection, preventing people from reading your mind), because of a petty hatred of the teacher, and because he wasn't wise enough to know he was being used. It tore him apart when the year ended, but after he saw the trust and love that the Order of the Phoenix had for him, when they threatened his guardians to take good care of him, he vowed to live up to his destiny, and make the bastard who was set destroying everything he held dear pay. And thus he started.
He had owled Remus Lupin, a werewolf, the last best friend of his parents, for all the books on all types of magic he had. Needless to say, Remus was surprised, but had no reluctance in filling Harry's request. So now he was writing two things, a thank you note to Remus, and comforting him, because his best friend was Sirius, and Harry knew that the werewolf must be grieving even more than he was, and this fortified his conviction as he was writing.
"I must defeat this bastard" Harry growled under his breath. His bright emerald eyes were filled with quiet fury as he continued to scribble away. "I hope Moony is okay, I really need him to be. We will take down Voldemort, and have revenge on him for what he did to all of us. There,"
He muttered as he signed the parchment and rolled it up. He called his beautiful white owl, Hedwig, from her perch in the corner of his book littered room, "Hedwig, deliver this to Remus, and come back as soon as possible, I need you for a special delivery".
Hedwig softly hooted her understanding and gave Harry a loving look as he tied the letter to her foot. She immediately took off through his open window as soon as he was done, looking back only once to see if her master was okay, and seeing that he had immediately started his second letter, she flew off into the cold night air to complete her little mission.
Harry had started to write a letter to Albus, asking him to help teach him occlumency, when an owl sped through his window. It was a light dun colour, with a very hyperactive personality. It looked a lot like Pig, his best friend Ron's owl, but just a bit larger.
"Hey girl, hold on, you don't need to be all haywire over it!" Harry laughed as the owl flew into his perpetually messy hair. "Just give me the parchment, and keep still, for heaven's sake!" And just as he said this, this owl stopped right on top of his head, causing Harry to smile as he looked in the mirror.
"I look like Neville's gran like this. Maybe I ought to keep this look; it might cause the death eaters to die from laughter. Maybe not" as the bird hopped into his palm and began to hoot loudly.
"Okay, okay already! You aren't by chance related to the Ron's owl Pigwidgeon, are you?" he asked the little noisemaker. At this question this owl stopped moving and glanced at Harry with a murderous look, causing Harry to laugh again. "Merlin, even owls think Pig is nutters!" he soliloquized as he took the letter from the clearly miffed owl and fed it some owl treats trying to placate it. "Please don't be angry with me, I was just joking. I think you are a very nice owl" he whispered. The owl just looked at him and flew off, clearly not appeased with the apology.
Harry looked at the owl flying away and glanced at the parchment in his hand. "Hold on a sec," he stuttered, as he recognised the flowing script on the letter. "Why would Michael Corner owl me? I hope Ginny's not in trouble." he murmured as he unfurled the parchment.
"To Harry Potter" he read. But that night wasn't about to give him any answers, because at that moment his scar started to pulse with pain, the world turned white and Harry fell to the floor unconscious.