Chapter one
The moon was rising high over number four Privet Drive as a snowy owl glided silently into the open window of the smallest room in the house. She landed softly on the desk and moved, without disturbing her owner, into her cage to enjoy the late night treat she had just caught herself.
Her owner himself was an odd fellow. He was sixteen-years-old- nearly seventeen but who's really counting?-, and sleeping, but he did not look restful. His brow was furrowed as if his head were aching and he sighed and turned as though something were tormenting him in his dreams. While he was actually quite handsome, though his hair was very untidy and there was an exhaustion on his young face that ought not to have been there considering his age.
But the most interesting and compelling things about him were things that you couldn't see at the moment. His bottle green eyes, enherited from his mother, were stunning. And he had a small scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning that he had gotten the night he had defeated the most evil wizard in the recollection of the magical community. But that was covered by the arm he had flung over his head. The boy's name was Harry Potter.
While there was nothing compellingly interesting about just looking at him, Harry was very interested in what he was seeing. He was having a dream about something he hadn't thought of in years. He was on the playground of his primary school, watching a scene being played out from when he was younger. His older cousin and his gang were after him again. Harry hadn't had any friends until he had begun attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry nearly three years after the events of this dream had taken place, and his cousin was always bullying him.
He watched himself, small and skinny at only eight years of age, as he ran away from the group of five boys chasing him to beat him up. His hands and knees were skinned from falling and his glasses were tucked for safety in the oversized pocket of the cast off trousers of his cousin's he used to be forced to wear in those days. Harry watched himself as he jumped behind a group of dustbins and turned to look out for his cousin.
From seemingly out of nowhere, a small girl stepped in front of Dudley and his gang who were lumbering along in their Harry hunting party. "Outta my way, you!" Dudley shouted, making a move to shove the girl away.
The girl was smaller than even Harry was, with blonde hair hanging in ringlets down her back. But in the next second, she did something that took everyone by surprise. She grabbed the hand Dudley had been about to shove her with, yanked once hard, and stepped out of the way so that Dudley, who was beefy and clumsy to begin with, overbalanced and fell hard, face first, on the ground. The girl smiled and looked up directly at Harry, who was still hiding behind the dustbins. He had felt frozen by those eyes, which were a clear metallic silver.
She then turned and walked to the older Harry. Looking up at him with complete confidence, she said, "See. I told you I'd never let anyone hurt you if I could help it." She then smiled and took his hand. The next instant, she was enveloped in a white fog. Harry had just caught sight of the girl, about the same age as him and beautiful, when a sharp crack woke him up.
He sat up straight in bed, his heart rate going faster than it should, when he realized the crack had simply been his owl, Hedwig, finishing her treat. He shook his head and scrubbed his eyes furiously with his hands. The dream wasn't right. Something strange was happening, he knew it. Instead of the girl simply walking away when they were younger, she had come over to Harry and informed him that she wouldn't let anyone hurt him if she could help it. He had never learned her name or even where she had come from and after that day she had disappeared.
The only other time he had seen her was the next holiday when he had been in a Muggle store and she had come up to him. She had shushed him with a finger to her lips, and given him two candies. One was for him, but she told him to make sure that Dudley, who was quite greedy, saw the other. Dudley had an Harry had been shocked when, after stealing and gobbling up the sweet, Dudley had been unable to lie for the next three hours.
Harry shook his head in order to dispell these dreamlike images from his mind. He stood without making a sound and made his way to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, but was startled in the next second by his Uncle's voice coming from the doorway.
"Whatdaya think you're doing?" Uncle Vernon asked in his usual crusty manner. He was glaring at Harry suspsciously as if he had been about to go murder his relatives in their beds. It had always been that way. Because they feared what Harry could do, they treated him especially nastily. In the Dursley's opinion, Harry was the worst sort of person simply because he wasn't exactly like them. Harry himself was surprised that he had actually survived living with the Dursleys for nearly seventeen years, but it didn't matter because his time was nearly up anyway.
"I had a bad dream," Harry replied. "I was awake and I thought I'd go to the loo, is that a crime?"
Harry bit back the smile that threatened as his Uncle swelled like an enraged bullfrog at his baiting. It wasn't as if Harry had much joy in his life anymore, pestering his relatives was the closest to fun he had during the holidays.
"Well, get back to bed now," his uncle muttered gruffly. "Crazy, no good freak, up at all hours of the night. Waking good, decent people who have to work in the morning..."
Harry ignored his uncle's beligerent grumbling as he moved back to his room. Once there, he realized that he was not at all tired. "Well, guess I'll just finish up on my homework," he murmured aloud, flopping onto his bed and pulling out a spellbook.
A couple of blocks away, another family was having trouble sleeping, but it was more because they were arguing than anything else.
"You're not doing it, Aaryn, I forbid it!"
The young girl stomped her foot and stared at her father in anger. "Well, what else is there? I've been thrown out of every other school you've sent me to! He needs me!"
"No, Aaryn, he does not need you. He has friends and he's done perfectly well without you." Her father raked a frustrated hand through his graying hair and wished with all of his might that he could change things. "Your mother-"
"Mummy would be doing the exact same thing as me if it were you instead of Harry!" she shouted, cutting him off effectively. "And you wouldn't change a thing about it!"
Her father gave her a grudging smile. She was right. Her mother had always had more spirit than was good for anyone. And it had gotten her killed when their child was less than a year old. The thought was a sobering one.
"Aaryn, I don't want anything to happen to you," he told her in a tired voice.
She moved over to sit in his lap. She had always done this when they were together while she was growing up, although she didn't fit as well as she used to. "I can't promise that nothing will happen to me, Da. But I can't stand the thought of him being hurt again. I promised. It killed me when Sirius died and I couldn't go to him. And now Dumbledore-"
Her father shook his head, feeling suddenly exhausted. "All right. I'll send you to Hogwarts. But no one can know about me. You'll have to use your mother's name." He suddenly found himself caught in a stranglehold hug. He smiled and hugged her back with all his might, feeling as though he was sending his only child, the only contact he had left with his dear wife, to her death.
The moon was rising high over number four Privet Drive as a snowy owl glided silently into the open window of the smallest room in the house. She landed softly on the desk and moved, without disturbing her owner, into her cage to enjoy the late night treat she had just caught herself.
Her owner himself was an odd fellow. He was sixteen-years-old- nearly seventeen but who's really counting?-, and sleeping, but he did not look restful. His brow was furrowed as if his head were aching and he sighed and turned as though something were tormenting him in his dreams. While he was actually quite handsome, though his hair was very untidy and there was an exhaustion on his young face that ought not to have been there considering his age.
But the most interesting and compelling things about him were things that you couldn't see at the moment. His bottle green eyes, enherited from his mother, were stunning. And he had a small scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning that he had gotten the night he had defeated the most evil wizard in the recollection of the magical community. But that was covered by the arm he had flung over his head. The boy's name was Harry Potter.
While there was nothing compellingly interesting about just looking at him, Harry was very interested in what he was seeing. He was having a dream about something he hadn't thought of in years. He was on the playground of his primary school, watching a scene being played out from when he was younger. His older cousin and his gang were after him again. Harry hadn't had any friends until he had begun attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry nearly three years after the events of this dream had taken place, and his cousin was always bullying him.
He watched himself, small and skinny at only eight years of age, as he ran away from the group of five boys chasing him to beat him up. His hands and knees were skinned from falling and his glasses were tucked for safety in the oversized pocket of the cast off trousers of his cousin's he used to be forced to wear in those days. Harry watched himself as he jumped behind a group of dustbins and turned to look out for his cousin.
From seemingly out of nowhere, a small girl stepped in front of Dudley and his gang who were lumbering along in their Harry hunting party. "Outta my way, you!" Dudley shouted, making a move to shove the girl away.
The girl was smaller than even Harry was, with blonde hair hanging in ringlets down her back. But in the next second, she did something that took everyone by surprise. She grabbed the hand Dudley had been about to shove her with, yanked once hard, and stepped out of the way so that Dudley, who was beefy and clumsy to begin with, overbalanced and fell hard, face first, on the ground. The girl smiled and looked up directly at Harry, who was still hiding behind the dustbins. He had felt frozen by those eyes, which were a clear metallic silver.
She then turned and walked to the older Harry. Looking up at him with complete confidence, she said, "See. I told you I'd never let anyone hurt you if I could help it." She then smiled and took his hand. The next instant, she was enveloped in a white fog. Harry had just caught sight of the girl, about the same age as him and beautiful, when a sharp crack woke him up.
He sat up straight in bed, his heart rate going faster than it should, when he realized the crack had simply been his owl, Hedwig, finishing her treat. He shook his head and scrubbed his eyes furiously with his hands. The dream wasn't right. Something strange was happening, he knew it. Instead of the girl simply walking away when they were younger, she had come over to Harry and informed him that she wouldn't let anyone hurt him if she could help it. He had never learned her name or even where she had come from and after that day she had disappeared.
The only other time he had seen her was the next holiday when he had been in a Muggle store and she had come up to him. She had shushed him with a finger to her lips, and given him two candies. One was for him, but she told him to make sure that Dudley, who was quite greedy, saw the other. Dudley had an Harry had been shocked when, after stealing and gobbling up the sweet, Dudley had been unable to lie for the next three hours.
Harry shook his head in order to dispell these dreamlike images from his mind. He stood without making a sound and made his way to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, but was startled in the next second by his Uncle's voice coming from the doorway.
"Whatdaya think you're doing?" Uncle Vernon asked in his usual crusty manner. He was glaring at Harry suspsciously as if he had been about to go murder his relatives in their beds. It had always been that way. Because they feared what Harry could do, they treated him especially nastily. In the Dursley's opinion, Harry was the worst sort of person simply because he wasn't exactly like them. Harry himself was surprised that he had actually survived living with the Dursleys for nearly seventeen years, but it didn't matter because his time was nearly up anyway.
"I had a bad dream," Harry replied. "I was awake and I thought I'd go to the loo, is that a crime?"
Harry bit back the smile that threatened as his Uncle swelled like an enraged bullfrog at his baiting. It wasn't as if Harry had much joy in his life anymore, pestering his relatives was the closest to fun he had during the holidays.
"Well, get back to bed now," his uncle muttered gruffly. "Crazy, no good freak, up at all hours of the night. Waking good, decent people who have to work in the morning..."
Harry ignored his uncle's beligerent grumbling as he moved back to his room. Once there, he realized that he was not at all tired. "Well, guess I'll just finish up on my homework," he murmured aloud, flopping onto his bed and pulling out a spellbook.
A couple of blocks away, another family was having trouble sleeping, but it was more because they were arguing than anything else.
"You're not doing it, Aaryn, I forbid it!"
The young girl stomped her foot and stared at her father in anger. "Well, what else is there? I've been thrown out of every other school you've sent me to! He needs me!"
"No, Aaryn, he does not need you. He has friends and he's done perfectly well without you." Her father raked a frustrated hand through his graying hair and wished with all of his might that he could change things. "Your mother-"
"Mummy would be doing the exact same thing as me if it were you instead of Harry!" she shouted, cutting him off effectively. "And you wouldn't change a thing about it!"
Her father gave her a grudging smile. She was right. Her mother had always had more spirit than was good for anyone. And it had gotten her killed when their child was less than a year old. The thought was a sobering one.
"Aaryn, I don't want anything to happen to you," he told her in a tired voice.
She moved over to sit in his lap. She had always done this when they were together while she was growing up, although she didn't fit as well as she used to. "I can't promise that nothing will happen to me, Da. But I can't stand the thought of him being hurt again. I promised. It killed me when Sirius died and I couldn't go to him. And now Dumbledore-"
Her father shook his head, feeling suddenly exhausted. "All right. I'll send you to Hogwarts. But no one can know about me. You'll have to use your mother's name." He suddenly found himself caught in a stranglehold hug. He smiled and hugged her back with all his might, feeling as though he was sending his only child, the only contact he had left with his dear wife, to her death.